|Mass market paperbound 2011||R 508||In Stock.|
|Hardcover 2012||R 1,267||In Stock.|
|Mass market paperbound 2011||R 1,622||In Stock.|
Your gorgeous ex roars up in a red sports car and offers to sweep you away from the mess you've made of your life.... What would you do?
With her wedding dreams in tatters and the local grapevine ablaze, Bella Shaw is getting out of town and speeding across the country with delicious, dangerous Damon Cavello. Bella's been playing it safe for so long--but not anymore. It's high time she faced up to her past--and with Damon by her side, that time is now!
From the book
The sports car was very low, very bright and shiny. Very red. It growled to a throbbing halt right in front of Bella, and the driver killed the motor.
'Morning, Bella.' His faintly amused gaze dropped to the overnight bag at her feet. 'Going somewhere?'
Damon Cavello. Again?
Twice in one week was too much.
Damon...with the same wild, dark hair and brooding, bad-boy looks she'd fallen in love with in high school.
No, not now. I can't deal with this now.
In the last ten years, she'd seen him many times on TV, of course, in a flak jacket reporting from a war zone, or poised precariously above raging floodwaters in South America, playing the ultimate foreign correspondent.
But it was a very different matter seeing him again in the flesh, especially on this morning of all mornings.
Bella felt as if she'd been snap-frozen. She couldn't have smiled even if she'd wanted to, and she had to swallow before she could speak.
'Hello, Damon. I've come straight from the hotel.' Last night had been her hen night. 'I've had a call about my grandfather, Paddy.'
She nodded in the direction of the sign for the Greenacres retirement home on the stone wall behind her. Then with businesslike briskness she picked up her bag, dismissing Damon Cavello with a coolness that she hoped matched his. 'Sorry, I can't chat. It's important family business.'
About to hurry inside, she was dismayed to hear the driver's door opening.
'Hang on a minute,' Damon called as he got out.
With the flashy sports car as a backdrop, he should have looked cocky or faintly comic, but he looked neither.
Unfair. He was dressed in a faded black T-shirt and jeans, and in these clothes, with the added advantage of darkly lashed grey eyes and rumpled dark hair, he was as disturbingly sexy as ever.
'I said I can't talk, Damon. I have to go. Paddy's disappeared.'
'Take it easy, Bella. I can tell you what's happened.'
Dumbfounded, she gaped at him.
He said, 'Your grandfather has run away with my grandmother.'
A wave of dizziness threatened Bella. Her knees sagged. She really couldn't deal with this now.
A mere hour ago her fiance, Kent, had left her hotel room with her diamond engagement ring in his pocket and a new lightness in his step. Minutes later, she'd received a phone call from Greenacres with the news that her grandfather had apparently disappeared.
She'd assumed the old trickster was simply playing hooky. It had happened before. Any minute now there'd be news that Paddy had been found at the bowls club, or on the banks of Willara Creek, fishing. She'd never dreamed--
'The Greenacres people rang me an hour ago and I've been checking it out,' Damon said. 'From all accounts, Paddy and Violet took off from here last night in Violet's car.'
'For heaven's sake. A joy-ride?'
'I've spoken to the fellow who runs the servo on the outskirts of town. He says they woke him up some time past midnight and begged him to fill their tank. They told him it was an emergency and they were heading north.'
'An emergency?' She frowned. 'It's not a joy-ride, then. How far north?'
'That's the burning question. They could be heading anywhere up the coast, possibly all the way to Cairns, and that's at least two days' drive. An elderly couple might take longer. The guy at the servo reckons they were on some kind of mission, and they were headed north-east, for the coast road.'
Bella rubbed at her brow as she tried to take this in. 'But--but that's crazy. They're too old to just take off like that. They're in their eighties, for...