Amy Andrews - Just One Last Night...

Grace, who’d opened her mouth to launch into her how-dare-you diatribe, shut it again. He was grinning at her and it seemed like nothing had ever gone wrong between them. How many times had they sat in a cafeteria, eating some awful uni food and laughing at his silly jokes?

It seemed like yesterday.

She raised an eyebrow. ‘Surely the director of emergency medicine gets his own car space?’

Brent grinned again. ‘Yeah, you got me there. So, just my cafeteria bill, okay?’

Grace felt all the angst melt at his infectious smile. Seemed like she was still a sucker for that mouth.

The urge to reach out and stroke the rich-looking fabric of his shirt, as she once would have done, prowled inside her like a living, breathing beast. She forced herself to pick up her cutlery instead.

As they ate they chatted about her orientation and Grace also told him about the house she’d bought. Twenty minutes passed easily. He loved listening to her talk. Her voice was just the way he remembered—soothing and melodic.

In fact, so many things about her were the same. Familiar. Her great big smile. Her mannerisms.

But the way her eyes crinkled at the corners when she laughed was new. She’d obviously done it a lot and he was torn between being happy for her and annoyed that she’d obviously had a rich and full life without him.

Of course her hair was completely different. And then there were the glasses. He knew she was severely long-sighted and was essentially as blind as a bat without some kind of corrective device, but what had made her switch from contacts?

‘So, why the glasses?’ he asked as conversation dwindled.

Grace shrugged and adjusted them with sudden nervousness. This was moving into personal territory.

‘I’ve had so many problems with contacts over the years. Glasses are simpler. And they’re excellent splash protection. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve copped an unexpected spray of blood in my face and they’ve saved my eyes every time.’

Brent nodded. Having had a couple of splash injuries over the years, he could relate to that.

He liked the glasses very much—they, along with the short, layered hairdo, took her to a whole new level of sexy. There was a maturity to her sex appeal now that pulled even more treacherously at his libido than it had when he’d been a teenager.

She seemed all schoolmarm, all touch-me-not.

Perversely, it had the opposite effect.

He swallowed his last mouthful and pushed his plate away, sinking back into his chair. ‘Have you been avoiding me?’

Grace looked at him, startled for a moment, before forcing herself to calmly pick up her cup and take a sip of her tea. They’d definitely moved beyond hospital safe-lift policy and dreadful wallpaper.

‘The boss of the emergency department has an ego, I see,’ she said dryly.

Brent chuckled. ‘Is that a yes?’

Grace fought the urge to shut her eyes as his laughter bathed her in testosterone. No one chuckled quite like Brent. ‘It’s been a busy few days—that’s all.’

‘If you say so.’

Grace ignored the jibe and watched as he picked up his coffee cup the way he always had. His long, strong fingers disregarded the convenience of the curved handle, preferring to encompass the whole cup.

No ring. ‘You’re not married.’

The statement slipped out unchecked. Not surprising since his marital status had weighed on her mind since her mother had put it there.

But not something she’d wanted him to know she’d been thinking about.

Brent looked at her for a moment before looking down at his bare left hand. ‘No. Not now.’

Now? Oh. ‘Divorced?’

Brent nodded. ‘Twice.’

Grace blinked. ‘Twice?’

He nodded. Marrying twice and failing at both wasn’t a record he was proud of. ‘In my early twenties.’

After Grace had walked away Brent had been determined never to date another career-woman. And while party girls had been fun and up for anything, the reality of married life with a poor medical student or an overworked, underpaid resident had soon lost its sparkle.

‘They were both brief. My first one didn’t see out a year. The second one didn’t see two. Both of my exes have since happily remarried. One now lives in Hong Kong. The other in Darwin. They were both amicable.’

‘Okay,’ she said. Because frankly she didn’t know what else to say. She certainly hadn’t expected that.

Deep down she’d secretly thought he’d never find anyone to replace her. That what they’d had was a once-in-a-lifetime thing. She’d certainly never found another man who’d come close to measuring up to Brent.

Brent could see she was grappling with the news. ‘I was looking for … I wanted …’

He stopped. He hadn’t known what he’d wanted.

Grace. But not Grace.

She nodded. ‘Yeah … I know.’ He’d wanted connection. Family. Roots. The perfect white-picket life he’d never had. ‘Any kids?’

Brent shook his head. Forty years old and the kids he’d always imagined he’d have hadn’t panned out.

He’d never been short of partners. In fact, he’d earned quite the playboy rep. But the problem with dating party girls was that they were as reluctant to settle and have babies quickly as career-women were.

And after two divorces, the idea of the perfect family had taken a battering. He’d resigned himself to the fact that he just wasn’t meant to be a father.

‘I guess I never found the right person. It just hasn’t happened.’

Maybe perfect only came along once? Maybe he’d been holding out for another Grace? Sitting opposite her, he suspected that it could possibly be true. The thought alarmed him and he opened his mouth to distract himself from it.

‘I coach a football team, though. Made up of kids in the system. It’s run by a Melbourne-based charity.’ He smiled, thinking about his beloved Little Warriors. ‘They range in age from five to twelve. They’re a bit of a ragtag bunch, but they’re keen and they love their Aussie rules.’

Grace watched as Brent’s face softened, his sexy mouth moving into an easy smile. His admission didn’t surprise her. His time in foster-care had given him deep insight into a fraught system. That he would be doing his bit to improve it all these years later was typical of the Brent she’d known.

And after remembering him with her siblings, it was easy to visualise him running around on a field, chasing after a bunch of kids, a whistle in his mouth, laughing.

‘Every few weeks I hire a corporate box at the MCG and we all go and watch a game together.’

Grace whistled. That wouldn’t be cheap. ‘They’re lucky to have you.’

Brent shook his head. ‘I’m lucky. They’re great kids.’ He gave a half-smile. ‘They keep me young.’

Grace wished she could say the same about her kids. Tash was single-handedly turning her grey. ‘Sounds great,’ she said, trying not to sound resentful. Coaching a bunch of kids who hero-worshipped you for a couple of hours was very different to parenting day in, day out. Especially when you weren’t wired that way.

‘Enough about me,’ he said, looking directly at her. ‘You never married?’

She shook her head. ‘Nope.’

‘Why?’

There was a certain amount of amazement in his voice and she laughed. ‘Women do chose to stay single, Brent. It’s not a crime. Especially in a field like medicine where the climb to the top is a long, hard slog. I made a choice to put my career first.’

And it hadn’t even been difficult. Sure, there’d been relationships over the years but none of them had stimulated her like medicine. Or Brent. She’d always figured she’d had her shot at grand love and blown it.