Second Chance in Sri Lanka, page 1
“Because all I have wanted to do since I saw you is this.”
As he stepped toward her, she moved toward him. He could see her pulse pounding in her throat, saw the taut neediness of her body, knew her every nerve ending was tingling just as his were.
She gave a small sigh. The familiarity of her scent spun his head, and he glanced down as she laid a hand against his chest and looked up at him, her eyes wide. Her lips parted, and now he was no more capable of stopping this momentum. It would be simpler to stop breathing altogether.
One kiss—there could be no harm in that. A bittersweet reminder of the past.
Then he did kiss her, and it felt gloriously familiar and yet oh so new, and as she moaned, a fierce satisfaction rocketed through him and he deepened the intensity of the kiss, wanting to plunder the sweetness of her lips.
Then they sprang apart, their ragged breaths mingling as they stared at each other in mirrored shock.
Dear Reader,
This book was written during turbulent times both globally and in my own life. As such, it was wonderful to escape into, and where better to escape to than to Sri Lanka? A sentiment not initially shared by my hero and heroine!
Matt and Zoe would rather be anywhere else—they haven’t seen each other since the end of their brief ill-fated marriage. But now they are on an idyllic beach resort to celebrate Zoe’s sister’s wedding to Matt’s best mate. And there is no escape!
And yet as they are thrown together against the backdrop of sun-dappled sand, turquoise skies and a vibrant Sri Lankan festival, they begin to remember why they fell for each other in the first place.
Could there be a happy ending this time? I hope you enjoy finding out.
Nina x
Second Chance in Sri Lanka
Nina Milne
Nina Milne has always dreamed of writing for Harlequin Romance—ever since she played libraries with her mother’s stacks of Harlequin romances as a child. On her way to this dream, Nina acquired an English degree, a hero of her own, three gorgeous children and—somehow!—an accountancy qualification. She lives in Brighton and has filled her house with stacks of books—her very own real library.
Books by Nina Milne
Harlequin Romance
The Casseveti Inheritance
Italian Escape with the CEO
Whisked Away by the Italian Tycoon
The Secret Casseveti Baby
A Crown by Christmas
Their Christmas Royal Wedding
Marooned with the Millionaire
Conveniently Wed to the Prince
Hired Girlfriend, Pregnant Fiancée?
Whisked Away by Her Millionaire Boss
Baby on the Tycoon’s Doorstep
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.
To my family—you are all amazing!
Praise for Nina Milne
“Their Christmas Royal Wedding is an escapist, enjoyable and emotional contemporary tale that will touch readers’ hearts with its beguiling blend of searing intensity, heart-warming drama and uplifting romance. Nina Milne writes with plenty of warmth and heart and she has penned a poignant and spellbinding romantic read.”
—Goodreads
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
EXCERPT FROM THE SINGLE DAD’S ITALIAN INVITATION BY SUSAN MEIER
CHAPTER ONE
ZOE STARED OUT of the villa window, focused on the scene, the peaceful, idyllic scene, focused so hard the vista blurred as she desperately tried to summon up a corresponding tranquillity.
After all, how hard could that be? Sand curved in a crescent of different-hued tones: honey and amber and the haze of absorbed sunlight. The blue of the ocean, a glorious swirl of azure and teal that stretched to the horizon, blended with the light turquoise of the sky. Palm trees fringed the landscape and the only sound was the caw and coo of the exotic birds that plumed this gorgeous bit of Sri Lanka.
But none of it made an iota of difference to the turbulence that had taken hold of her nerves. All because in the next hour or so she would see Matt again. The idea churned her stomach, accelerated her heart rate and turned the view from her window into an anodyne tawdry souvenir postcard vista.
Get over it, Zoe.
This was not about her. It was about Beth, her much-loved older sister. Zoe was here in Sri Lanka to celebrate Beth’s wedding to Dylan. It was simply unfortunate that Dylan’s best friend and best man happened to be Matt Sutherland. Of course, if Matt and Dylan weren’t friends Zoe would never have met Matt. Five years ago she had agreed to let her sister arrange a date, a single mojito; she had met Matt, the mojito had been followed by dinner and she’d fallen for him. Six months later she’d fallen pregnant and fallen into a hasty marriage.
Remembered pain struck, her miscarriage and the aftermath. She’d only been ten weeks pregnant, had known she wasn’t ‘safe’ yet, but it hadn’t made a difference to the pain she’d felt, at the loss of the potential life, the son or daughter she’d never now hold or know, or even feel kick in her womb.
‘No particular reason,’ the doctor had said in an attempt to reassure her. ‘No reason not to try again.’
And Zoe had known that was what she wanted to do—she might not have planned to have a baby, but her pregnancy had given her a bone-deep knowledge that she wanted a family, wanted to be a parent, wanted the family life she’d never had herself.
But then she’d told Matt how she felt and that was when he’d dropped the bomb that had blown their short, ill-fated marriage up. Words that were etched on her brain, burnt there for ever.
I don’t feel the same way, Zoe. I would have done the best I could to be a good father. But I don’t want children.
The words had devastated her, made her feel as though everything was a lie.
Why didn’t you say?
Because there wasn’t any point. You were pregnant and I...
Thought you’d have to make the best of it.
Her voice had been small and tight as the cold hand of grief had touched her again.
I thought you wanted our baby, I thought...
I did.
He’d made a helpless gesture with his hand.
And I am devastated we lost the baby. I swear it.
And she’d known he spoke truth; had witnessed the white face, the set expression, the storm of grief in his brown eyes.
But that doesn’t mean I want to try for another one.
Zoe had known she couldn’t live with a man who didn’t want a family and so she’d left. Packed a bag, taken off travelling, decided to spend a few years honing her cooking skills abroad, before fulfilling her dream to open her own restaurant. So she’d taken jobs as waitress, kitchen assistant, worked her way up to chef status, and had just completed a six-month contract managing a restaurant in Switzerland to cover maternity leave.
She had put Matt out of her mind, a small sliver of her past, a blip, no more. After all, in truth, as his words had proved with such bleak clarity, they had barely known each other, their marriage a mistake. Even if she hadn’t lost the baby, what real chance had they had? With hindsight the wedding had been a foolhardy venture, and yet, looking back, Zoe could recall the heady rush that had carried her away. Being with Matt had made her feel alive for the first time since Tom’s death. Tom, her first doomed love. Together they had spun off the rails so far they hadn’t seen tragedy bearing down on them. Tom had been so vital and alive and then he’d died, aged eighteen, of an accidental overdose.
So with Matt it had seemed almost as though fate had given her a chance to make up for the tragedy she felt responsible for. Had gifted her an opportunity, to have a baby, have a real family, and she’d snatched at that chance. She’d wanted to give her baby a father who wanted to be there, and Matt’s instant insistence on marriage had seemed proof of exactly that. And so she’d believed in the fairy-tale ending—oh, he’d never claimed to love her but that hadn’t mattered. In truth she’d believed they could live happily ever after, had been carried away on a sweeping tide of attraction and illusory optimism, headed towards the dream where she would give her baby the perfect family she’d craved for herself. Well, that hadn’t happened, and Matt had been consigned to history. A sliver of history.
Until today. When she had to acknowledge that the idea of seeing him had sent her into an out of proportion spin. She closed her eyes and started reciting spices in alphabetical order in her head. It would all be fine. It had to be. Beth had always been there for her and no way would she spoil the next few days that her sister had planned with such care.
Dylan’s mum was from Sri Lanka and, though she had not been back for many years, she had always wanted Dylan to know and understand his heritage and so Beth and Dylan had decided to get married here, combine their wedding and honeymoon with the chance to spend time on Lavantivu, an island where his family had once lived.
Today was arrival day and everyone was about to congregate for lunch in the central building that housed a large kitchen and dining area. Everyone except their parents. The all too familiar sense of anger, frustration and sadness ran through her. Neil and Joanna Trewallen had missed nearly every single one of their daughters’ important life events, their lives dominated by the number of charitable causes they supported, one of which always needed them. In this case they had decided at the last minute not to attend as it would be hypocritical, given they were about to march for climate change.
So you see, darling, getting on a plane to Sri Lanka wouldn’t look good.
I understand, and I agree, but don’t you think you could miss this one protest to be at your daughter’s wedding? Zoe had asked.
No, because, as we’ve told you all your life, you can’t put individuals first. Even when they’re your family.
But...
Zoe had stopped herself, because she’d long since learnt anger, discussion, spectacular gestures... Nothing pierced her parents’ devotion to a plethora of causes. Zoe had tried everything and it had resulted in tragedy. Tragedy that had taught her the only way forward was to abandon all attempts to win her parents’ attention, to stand on her own two feet and live the best life she could.
I know Beth will understand. Much love, darling. Bye.
Back in the present Zoe gritted her teeth—she would not let it get to her. She welcomed the knock on the door with relief, smiled as her sister entered.
‘Hey,’ Beth said. ‘Just came to check if you were ready.’ She paused and said with overstudied casualness, ‘And tell you that Matt is here.’
‘I’m ready.’ Zoe gestured downward. ‘And that’s fine.’ Even if her heart had chosen this moment to hammer her ribcage and she could feel nerves twist and strum inside her. At least whatever happened she looked good; one last glance in the mirror confirmed that.
Her dress was both elegant and eye-catching, a vivid bold floral mix of red and orange that would complement the red of her auburn hair. High-heeled sandals completed the ensemble, and she’d clipped her hair back with barrettes on both sides in a ‘casual, but I’ve made an effort’ style.
The whole hopefully conveyed insouciance, verve and flair and concealed the fact that inside she was a wreck.
‘You sure you’re OK with this?’ Beth asked.
‘Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?’ From somewhere she manufactured a light laugh. ‘Matt and I were such a long time ago now—there is no reason for there to be any awkwardness.’ Beth didn’t know about the miscarriage—she and Matt had told no one about the pregnancy, had been waiting until the ‘safe’ date. The date that had never come. Then when she’d miscarried the grief and pain had been too raw and Zoe had retreated inside herself, and once her marriage had detonated, she’d run for the hills. So Beth believed that the marriage had been a foolish whim, a mistake soon realised and moved on from without hard feelings. ‘It will be good to catch up.’
Liar, liar.
But the words achieved their aim, erased the look of concern in Beth’s blue eyes. ‘So let’s go. This is all going to be fabulous. But...I am sorry Mum and Dad aren’t here.’
‘Don’t be. I don’t think I even thought they would be. They have said they’ll attend by video link so that’s something. I need Mum there for some of the ceremony. Some of the rituals involve the mother-daughter relationship and she does have a role to play. At least she’s agreed to do that.’
Beth and Dylan were incorporating both Sri Lankan and Western traditions in their marriage and Zoe knew they’d put a lot of thought into making it feel right, a balanced mix.
‘I’m so happy how close you are to Dylan’s parents.’ David and Manisha had taken Beth into their family and Zoe was glad, hoped it made up for their own chaotic parents.
‘Me too.’ Beth grinned. ‘Come on, little sis, let’s go and get this party started.’
* * *
Matt Sutherland surveyed the room, forced himself not to look at the doorway, told himself to stop scanning for Zoe. It wasn’t as though he even wanted to see her; he would certainly never have solicited a meeting of his own free will. But needs must—this was Dylan and Beth’s wedding—and there was no way to avoid Zoe. Especially given how small the guest list and the fact the itinerary necessitated spending masses of time together. His eyes returned to the doorway.
Perhaps it was simply a desire to get it over with, the requisite awkwardness of the initial meeting. How did one greet the woman who had turned one’s life upside down, then walked out with no warning or discussion?
He’d returned home to find their penthouse flat purged of her belongings. She’d even left the windows open as if to cleanse the very air. That had oddly hurt more than anything else, the way she had so completely erased herself from their home as if showing him that she had erased him from her life.
Just as his parents had done, just as so many foster carers had done. To the latter he’d been one of many, a revolving door of troubled, traumatised, unwanted kids. Some homes he’d only been there a day or a week. But he’d nearly always arrived to a room with open windows, opened to rid the air of the child before.
But that was then and this was now. And if he had relearnt one thing from Zoe it was to never put himself in the position of expecting loyalty or, dare he say it, love. That was how he’d survived childhood, teenage years...life. Play the game, get along, survive—but rely only on yourself, not others. That way you wouldn’t get let down.
He figured he must have worked out a survival strategy from the moment he opened his eyes or perhaps even in the womb itself. His parents had been alcoholics who had pretty much ignored his existence, the first five years of his life spent in a state of criminal neglect. The only saving grace was that he couldn’t actually remember it, though things would trigger panic in him even now. Hunger, or certain smells... And sometimes the nightmares still came, strange, distorted visions, faces he couldn’t quite remember in the morning. Yet he’d eked out a way to survive. But his baby brother hadn’t, perhaps hadn’t cried loud or hard enough, had relied on a trust in his parents. Matt closed his eyes, opened them again. Now wasn’t the time or the place to think about the baby brother whose life had been so brief, a brother who had fallen ill and died.
That had alerted social services and Matt had been saved. Guilt panged through him—along with a deep yearning that he could have saved Peter.
But wishes didn’t change anything; they couldn’t turn the clock back. Bottom line was he hadn’t. Had done nothing, couldn’t even recall his brother’s existence. What sort of person did that make him?
Enough. That was then, this was now.
Now he was here, on the beautiful island of Lavantivu, to celebrate his best friend’s wedding. He would never forget his baby brother, but equally he had learnt to carry the memory and the guilt within him, a memory he had shared with no one—not Dylan, not Zoe, not anyone.
As if on cue his eyes roved to the doorway once again; Beth entered, and his heart lurched as Zoe came in behind her.
Any pretence of calm was a sham; it took every ounce of his iron will to keep himself still as his lungs constricted, the twisting, seething emotions becoming an uncontrollable blur. Memories filtered and streamed his consciousness in vivid images, laughter, pain, grief, anger, joy. Confusion, discomfort, failure.
Matt braced himself and focused.
He would not let Zoe back under his skin, would not give her that power.
Luckily he knew how to neutralise power—had perfected the technique in childhood. A time where he had spent so much time feeling powerless. Social workers had been in control of his life, his destiny. Their reports had influenced which foster family he would end up with and that had filled him with fear, enough so that at first he’d lashed out in panic. And so he’d been labelled as disturbed, problematic, in need of help. Matt hadn’t wanted the label or the help, so he’d figured out what to do.
