Helen Lacey - Date with Destiny

He wanted her…

But he knew he should ignore every feeling he had. Because he was going to get his heart smashed. Again. Her next words proved it.

“You know why I left, Cameron. Why I couldn’t be with you then. You were getting serious and I couldn’t settle down.”

“So you left for New York and didn’t look back?”

“Yes,” she replied. “And in two weeks I’ll be going back. So, if anything happened it would—”

Cameron pushed off the counter. As he moved, the air shifted on some invisible axis. Hotter, thicker, as if a gust of something sinfully seductive had blown into the room.

“The thing is, Grace, if you want comfort—I can give you that. If you want sex—I can give you that. But tomorrow I’ll still be me. And you’ll still be the same woman who wanted to get away from here.”

She moved closer. “Tomorrow isn’t tonight. Make love to me.”

HELEN LACEYgrew up reading Black Beauty, Anne of Green Gables and Little House on the Prairie . These childhood classics inspired her to write her first book when she was seven years old, a story about a girl and her horse. She continued to write, with the dream of one day being a published author, and writing for Mills & Boon ®Cherish ™is the realization of that dream. She loves creating stories about strong heroes with a soft heart and heroines who get their happily-ever-after. For more about Helen, visit her website, www.helenlacey.com.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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For Gareth

1966–2009

Forever in my heart

Grace Preston stared down at her bare feet peeking out from the hem of her long dress. Her sister’s beach wedding had been romantic and casual—exactly what the bride and groom wanted. But it had left her without shoes and feeling more than a little exposed.

Grace didn’t bother to pull up her dress as she walked toward the water’s edge. To hell with it—she’d never wear the halter style blue-green chiffon concoction again anyway. The water was cold and she ignored the wet sand clinging to her heels. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a great sliver of light across the ocean. The sound of cresting waves was faintly hypnotic and she relaxed a bit, taking a long swallow from the champagne flute in her hand. Once the glass was empty she quickly refilled it from the bottle she held in the other.

It wasn’t like she intended to get drunk. That wasn’t her style. She simply needed to be alone. Away from the cloistering effects of wedding guests and the party.

She’s been home for five days and already felt as though it was time to leave.

But I won’t .

She had a month. Four weeks to recharge and pull herself together. Not that she really believed she needed it. But her boss did. Her therapist did. She had her instructions—go home…go home and spend time with her family. Go home and forget the car crash that had killed a colleague and changed her life.

So, I’m here .

She took another sip, finishing her drink. One glass down. Maybe getting drunk would give her some relief from the heavy band of pressure pressing at her temples.

Relief now, perhaps. But regret in morning.

Grace Preston didn’t do hangovers. She did fourteen-hour days and skipped lunches and four-inch heels. Vacations were usually a long weekend in her apartment with a laptop and one eye on the stock market.

And Crystal Point, the small beachside Australian town where she’d been born and raised, was a long way from her office, her apartment, her Jimmy Choos and her life in New York.

She took a few steps and cautiously dipped her toes into the ocean. The sound of music and laughter and clinking crockery faded as she headed farther from the huge tent and the celebration of Evie and Scott’s wedding. The stars above seemed particularly bright, like they were mocking her, like they knew all her secrets.

Like they knew she wasn’t quite whole and there was a tiny window of emptiness aimed directly in the center of her chest. Maybe it was the happiness radiating from her sister that had Grace thinking things she wouldn’t normally think. With a new husband and a baby on the way, Evie had never looked happier.

While Grace had never been more alone in her life.

The fact her boss knew as much was the reason she was back. She was home to recharge and be with the people who loved her. Not that she was about to admit that to anyone anytime soon. her family thought she was simply home for the wedding and an extended vacation.

She kicked at the tide with her toes and gasped as cold water splashed up her calf, but then ventured in a little more. When she took a swallow of champagne the bubbles zinged up her nose and down her throat. A couple more glasses, she thought, and she might be on her way to sweet oblivion.

The idea made her laugh and she heard the sound echo and then ripple and somehow quietly disappear into the night as she took another step into the water.

Across from the river mouth, where the waterway met the sea, was Jay’s Island. It had been part of the mainland once, but years of sand trenching to allow sugar cane ferries to pass had created a gulf between the two banks. Now it was home to nesting herons and sea turtles. When she was young she’d swum the distance, not put off by the fast current that dragged many swimmers along. But she hadn’t done that in a long time.

Despite what some people believed, Grace didn’t hate Crystal Point. She just had little in common with the small beachside community that boasted a population of barely eight hundred residents. Not after so many years anyway. Time had a way of creating distance and building walls. Grace simply didn’t fit in. She never had.

“Don’t think I’m gonna jump in and save you if you fall in and get pulled down by the riptide, Princess,” she heard a deep and infuriatingly familiar voice say from behind her. “I have no intention of ruining a perfectly good suit because you can’t hold your liquor.”

Grace swiveled in shock at the sudden intrusion and almost toppled over. Clenching her toes into the sand for balance, she moved up the bank to where Cameron Jakowski stood about ten feet away.

She scowled and fought a guilty look at the glass and bottle clutched between her fingers. She absolutely would not rise to his Princess jibe.

“What do you want, Hot Tub?”

She saw his smile in the moonlight, knew instinctively that his velvet brown eyes would light up, ready for battle with her. They had always called one another names—always worked out new ways to needle each other. Hot Tub, Princess—silly names meant to antagonize.

“Just making sure you don’t drown.”

Grace shrugged her bare shoulders. “I didn’t realize you cared.”