Chapter 26

Chapter Twenty-Six

A bby stepped out of Mark's office, her head spinning.

When he'd said there could be a ‘huge deal' if the Sapphire Island shoot went well, he hadn't been kidding.

For a freelance fashion stylist to be offered every big job Finesse had for the next two years was a dream come true.

Not to mention she wouldn't be tied into any long term contracts so she could freelance too.

She could hardly believe it and normally, she would've jumped at the chance. But accepting the opportunity of a lifetime came with strings attached, huge strings, tied up in one giant bow around Judd Calloway's neck.

Mark had left her in little doubt that having Judd at Finesse was a coup and she'd be working closely with him if she accepted.

How could she refuse? Her job meant everything to her.

So what if she'd been dumb enough to fall for Judd? She'd already told him they could be friends. Given a little time she was sure they could slip back into their old camaraderie.

Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the last door on the left where Judd had his new office. She had to get this over and done with, make sure he understood exactly where they stood.

She barely had time to tug her favourite white suit jacket down before the door opened.

"Hey, I've been expecting you. Welcome to my new digs."

Judd stepped aside and waved his arm in a flourish while she fixed a smile on her face, wishing her traitorous body would calm down. The moment she caught sight of him wearing a charcoal pin-striped designer suit, her heart flip-flopped, her pulse thundered, and a quick-fire heat she thought she'd conquered and left behind on the island flowed through her like molten magma.

"Nice," she said, stepping into the office with its postcard view of Sydney Harbour, funky stainless steel desk, and matching ergonomic chairs.

Very minimalist, very sleek and unlike anything she'd ever pictured the Judd she knew would go for.

"So you've had a chat with Mark?"

"Uh-huh." Perching on the end of his desk, she tried to act like being offered her dream job—with her dream guy working alongside her, ironically—happened every day.

"What do you think? I assume you're going to take it?" He tried to look nonchalant and failed miserably.

"It's a great opportunity. I'd be a fool to pass it up."

His face lit up and he let out an excited whoop. "That's great."

He crossed the room to perch next to her, his thigh brushing hers and sending tiny electric shocks up her stocking-clad leg. He captured her hand before she could move. "We're going to be working closely together."

She should've snatched her hand out of his the moment his voice dipped to a husky murmur. Instead, she sat there like a dummy, frozen, immobile, while he raised her hand to his lips and branded her palm with a hot, lingering kiss. The type of bone-melting kiss that sent electricity sizzling through her body, the feel of his warm lips a poignant reminder of what they'd shared on the island, of what they could never have again.

"Not that closely," she said, wrenching her hand out of his and crossing to the window to put some much needed distance between them.

He didn't move, his casual stance screaming confidence, and she wondered what it would take to get through to him.

"After what happened on the island, I'm not buying this ‘let's be friends' spiel anymore," he said, his tone blasé. "It doesn't make sense considering how great we are together. The Abby I know is always up for a challenge so what are you going to do about it?"

Abby gnawed on her bottom lip, knowing only one thing would get through to him, but all too aware that telling him the truth might drive an irreversible wedge in their friendship forever.

"Give it to me straight, Weiss."

The moment she heard him call her by her surname, slipping into old familiarity, she knew she owed him the truth.

Either way, it would settle this once and for all.

"I'm not willing to take a chance on a relationship with you because I know where it will end, with you running out on me and me picking up the pieces of a broken heart. Again ."

He paled beneath his tan. "Again? What's that supposed to mean?"

"You honestly don't have a clue, do you?"

Realisation dawned and he took a step towards her before thinking better of it. "You had feelings for me when we were teenagers?"

She nodded, biting down on her bottom lip until she tasted blood, not willing to blab the rest of the truth to him, that ‘feelings' was a poor substitute for how much she loved him, had always loved him.

"Hell." He ran a hand over his face, as if trying to erase the mistakes of the past. If only it was that easy. "I didn't know. I thought we were just fooling around that night, a couple of kids experimenting. You never said anything…"

And she'd kept her silence ever since, bottling up her feelings all these years, not admitting she'd never gotten over her first kiss—her first love, if she were completely honest.

"What could I say? We were both young and I had no idea if you felt the same way I did. Besides, you had places to go, things to do. You were my best friend and I didn't want to stop you, to rob you of your dreams."

"You did that for me?" His tenderness almost undid her as she struggled not to blurt the rest.

"Of course. That's what friends do. They put the other person's feelings ahead of their own, no matter how much it hurts." She paused and balled her hands to stop from reaching for him. "But not anymore. This time, I'm taking care of me."

Stricken, he shook his head. "I'm sorry I hurt you, and I'm sorry you had to go through all that, but this time will be different. I'm not planning on going anywhere anytime soon."

"That's what you say now but how do you know?" She hated the devastation in his eyes, hated the pain splintering her heart into tiny pieces. "Moving around is a part of who you are and I won't want to lose you again, especially if we're involved in a relationship. And if we do give it a go, either you'll feel stifled and end up resenting me or I'll feel guilty for being the reason you're sticking around when you'd rather go. Ultimately, we both lose, and when you eventually leave, because you will, I'll be left to pick up the pieces all over again and I can't do it. I won't do it. I'm not strong enough."

She huffed out a long breath after articulating her fears and revealing her true feelings, but instead of a weight lifting off her shoulders she'd never felt so shattered.

"All I'm asking for is a chance."

She heard a hint of desperation in his voice and anger replaced her pain. Why was he doing this to her? She'd been honest with him, had hoped he'd get the message once and for all.

In a blinding flash, she knew how to get through to him, to ram her point home.

"You want a chance? Okay, tell me how long you're planning on sticking around?"

The second his glance wavered from hers, she knew she'd won.

Then why did it feel like he'd ripped her heart out all over again and she was the biggest loser ever?

His lips set in a stubborn line before he replied, "I'm not planning on going anywhere."

Determined to end this before she started blubbering, she said, "How long is your contract for?"

He stiffened and thrust his hands into his pockets. "What's that got to do with us?"

"Everything." She tilted her head up and eyeballed him. "How long?"

Defeat dulled the gleam in his hazel eyes. "It's open-ended."

Hating how her heart sank when he'd already managed to break it without trying, she said, "Let me guess. Your idea, not Mark's."

His barely perceptible nod was all the confirmation she needed.

"Well, then, there's your answer." She stalked across the room, her stilettos clicking against the polished floorboards and echoing in the room, reinforcing the empty echo in her heart.

"You're wrong about me."

Abby knew that tone; Judd had it down-pat and used it to great effect when he wanted to get rid of someone he didn't like or couldn't resolve an unsolvable problem.

She'd first heard it way back in high school when he'd taken on the biggest bully and won without using his fists. Who needed to resort to violence when the right tone, combined with clever words, could cut someone down to size much quicker? Or when he couldn't figure out the answer to a complex issue.

Pausing at the door, she turned to face him. "Am I wrong about you, Judd? Really?"

Without waiting for an answer she walked out, wishing she had the guts to slam it like she'd slammed the door on any chance they ever had of a future.