Maybe This Time
Just when they thought they were through…
What are the chances of running into your ex-wife on a singles cruise? Apparently very high, as Darcy Lewis discovers. With their messy past, surely he and Emma can stay on opposite sides of the ship and leave each other alone.
They can’t. Instead, they spend a sinfully hot night together. Too bad the morning after proves they separated for good reason. Even when Emma tells him she’s pregnant, they decide they’re better apart. Or are they? Because somehow they keep turning to each other for support. And it’s clear the attraction is still there. Maybe this is their second chance—a new baby, a new chance to make this work.
Darcy stood on her doorstep, flowers in hand.
Emma checked through the peephole again. Yep. He held a fistful of purple irises and orange gerberas. Great. Just when she was totally completely angry and hated him, he brought her flowers.
Emma opened the door. One bare foot crept over to rest on top of the other. “What brings you here?”
He presented her with the bouquet. “Sorry I acted like a jerk.”
In his button-down shirt and with his tousled dark hair he looked sexier than he had any right to. And younger than his forty years. How could she possibly feel attracted when she was so angry at him?
Why was she even angry? She wasn’t supposed to feel anything anymore.
“Thanks,” she said, accepting the flowers. Their fingers brushed. She felt nothing. That was static from the carpet, not a spark of electricity.
And any second now she’d actually believe that.
Dear Reader,
Do you ever wish you could have a do-over of some day, week or month in your life, some moment in time when everything went bad because of some wrong choice or a decision you wish you could take back? I’m fascinated by the idea of
Sliding Doors,
where even a tiny choice, like turning right or turning left, or arriving a minute earlier or later will change the course of a person’s life. We all have trillions of such moments over a lifetime.
When my hero and heroine both make wrong choices, a tragedy ensues that destroys their marriage and threatens their future chance at happiness. Afterward, while they appear to be moving on with their lives, they’re stuck in a limbo of regrets and thinking “if only” they’d done something different on that fateful day.
In real life we don’t get a do-over, but we can learn from our mistakes. I believe that even if you make a wrong decision you can usually fix it by recognizing where you’ve gone astray and working hard to get back on the right track. You might not get where you would have been had you not made the mistake in the first place, but life is made up of an infinite number of paths. If you’re self-aware, and know what you want and where you want to go, you’ll usually get there.
Getting there can be a hard lesson and a painful one, as my hero and heroine found out in
Maybe This Time.
The rewards can be joyful and at the same time bittersweet. But as the saying goes, life is all about the journey, not the destination.
I love to hear from readers. Contact me through my website,
www.joankilby.com
, or c/o Harlequin Enterprises Ltd., 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario M3B 3K9, Canada.
Warmest wishes,
Joan Kilby
Maybe This Time
Joan Kilby
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Joan Kilby enjoys writing about the fictional seaside town of Summerside, Australia, because it bears an uncanny similarity to the town where she lives with her husband and three children. Although her pubbing days are long over, she has a soft spot for the colorful and quirky pubs found in small Australian towns. When she’s not writing Joan likes to read, cook and go to the gym. She’s a longtime member of Toastmasters International.
Books by Joan Kilby
HARLEQUIN SUPERROMANCE
1212—HOMECOMING WIFE
1224—FAMILY MATTERS
1236—A MOM FOR CHRISTMAS
1324—PARTY OF THREE
1364—BEACH BABY
1437—NANNY MAKES THREE
1466—HOW TO TRAP A PARENT
1681—HER GREAT EXPECTATIONS*
1687—IN HIS GOOD HANDS*
1693—TWO AGAINST THE ODDS*
1772—PROTECTING HER SON
1808—TO BE A FAMILY
*Summerside Stories
Other titles by this author available in ebook format.
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Contents
CHAPTER ONE
January
Melbourne, Australia
D
ARCY
L
EWIS STRAIGHTENED
his cream linen jacket. The cruise ship’s crowded ballroom was decked out in a Brazilian Fiesta theme and the live band’s spicy Latin beat had him tapping his foot. Hot women in sexy dresses clustered around the room, sipping cocktails and eyeing up the men, including him.
How long had it been since he’d done something new and exciting? Way too long. His mates in Summerside were right. Twelve months of celibacy was too damn long for any red-blooded man with fully functioning hormones. They’d known what he needed even if he hadn’t.
“Have a fling,” Riley Henning had said as he and John Forster—Darcy’s old surfing buddies and now both police officers—presented him with a ticket for a weekend singles cruise. The three of them had gathered one night after hours in Darcy’s pub for a few drinks in honor of his fortieth birthday. “No strings attached. No emotional commitment. Definitely no moping. Just hot sex and fun.”
Darcy cleared his throat, a little choked up at the generosity of his good mates. The past two years had been hard, really hard. “Thanks, guys.”
John clapped Darcy on the shoulder. “Riley’s right, sex and fun. When was the last time you had either?”
“Been a while.” First Holly’s death, then the divorce... His cocooned existence had involved eating, sleeping and working—not necessarily in that order. It was time he made an effort to get into the dating scene. And this cruise was just the ticket, so to speak.
He dragged his thoughts to the ballroom and the nearest woman—a brunette wearing a red dress sipping from a drink with an umbrella. “Would you like to dance?”
“Thanks, but I’ve got a partner for this one. He’ll be back any second. My friend would like to.” She pushed forward the petite woman wearing a blue dress standing behind her.
“Tracey, I can find my own— Oh.” Emma’s blue-green eyes widened. A smattering of freckles stood out against a peaches-and-cream complexion framed by flaming red hair. “Hey, Darcy.”
Darcy swore silently. What were the odds? What were the frickin’ odds? Of all the ballrooms on all the singles cruises in the world... He pasted on a smile. “Hey, Em. What are you doing here?”
“On a cruise. Same as you.” She glanced around desperately, as if hoping someone would rescue her. Or a fire would break out, or the ship would hit an iceberg. Anything to put an end to this awkward moment.
Was she looking for a good time, too? A roll in the sack? Well, why shouldn’t she? She was absolutely free to sleep with whomever she wanted. It did
not
make him jealous. Or hurt. Much.
He started to ease away. “Sorry to bother you.”
The brunette grabbed him by the arm. “Where are you going? Do you two know each other?” She turned to Emma and whispered, “Come on, Em—he’s hot. This makes the third man you’ve passed on.”
“This is Darcy,” Emma hissed. “My ex-husband.”
“Oh!” The woman dropped his arm as if it were infected.
Nice. What exactly had Emma said about him?
“Wonderful running into you.” He gave them double thumbs-up as he moved away. “It’s a big ship. I’m sure it won’t happen again. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to see a man about a dog.”
“Huh?” Tracey’s nose wrinkled. “What dog?”
“Forget it.” Emma waved a hand. “Let him go.”
He felt Emma’s glare burning a hole in the back of his jacket all the way to the bar. What was she saying about him to Tracey? Was she warning her?
“He likes to party but if you’re looking for happily ever after, forget it.”
Darcy slid onto a stool, automatically taking note of the efficient, uncluttered layout of the bar. It was set up mainly for cocktails with features he would never use. But those sliding doors on the fridges would be great instead of the swinging ones he had.
Seeing Emma unexpectedly was almost as disconcerting as sitting on this side of the bar. He had an urge to hop the divider and start polishing glasses. He caught the bartender’s eye. “Coke with plenty of ice.”
“Everything okay, mate?” The bartender, a man about his own age with receding blond hair, tipped a scoop of ice into a glass and squirted in the soft drink.
“Just ran into my ex-wife.” He lifted the glass and took a big swig. Whiskey would have been more welcome right now.
“Still got a thing for her, do you?”
Bartenders had an instinct for people and their troubles. He knew he did but he didn’t care to be on this side of the conversation. “It’s complicated.”
He wanted to hate Emma—but couldn’t. He wished he could love her the way she wanted to be loved—couldn’t manage to do that, either. Would have liked to stay friends—that was too painful after what they’d had together. He wished he could ignore her—one look and every other woman in the ballroom faded into insignificance.
So where did that leave him? In limbo, that’s where—unable to forget her, unable to move on. This cruise was supposed to be his first step toward a new life.
Instead he was torturing himself by watching her on the dance floor. Even though their last six months together had been the worst of his life, even though they were divorced now, the thought of her on the prowl for another guy twisted his insides into knots. Through the bobbing heads he glimpsed her doing the mambo with some bozo with two left feet. The guy’s hands were all over her. Darcy didn’t know which was worse, the liberties the guy was taking or that a terrific dancer like Emma was wasted on him.
Darcy turned around, unable to watch. He hadn’t seen her in nearly six months, not since the house had sold for a song. Both of them wanted rid of the memories and had been unwilling to wait for a decent offer. She’d moved to Mornington, to a rental unit. He’d moved into the apartment above the pub once the previous tenant’s lease was up.
The first night of this cruise and already her presence had ruined the whole experience for him. How was he going to chat up other women with her on board? Sure he was divorced, but it would still feel like cheating on his wife. He would be constantly looking over his shoulder. Even now he imagined he could smell her perfume—
Hell. She slid onto the next stool.
Blue-green eyes fringed with dark auburn lashes flashed at him. “I can’t believe you’re here, too.”
“I’m fine. Thanks for asking.” He gulped his soda, wishing it was Scotch more than ever. They’d both resorted to animosity to cover a whole host of more difficult emotions. It worked but it was draining. “You?”
“Pretty crap, actually, now that I’ve run into you.” She signaled to the bartender. “Can I have a mojito, please? Only instead of rum I’d like vodka, and instead of lime, I want pineapple juice. Oh, and no mint leaves, thanks. Lots of ice. And just a dash of pomegranate.”