He dropped into his chair. This last month in Africa had provided him with some perspective, given him some distance. It had renewed his determination, had al owed him to gather his strength again. With Kit, he’d made a mistake. He’d paid dearly for that mistake too. He’d made love to her and in the next instant the nightmares about little Chad had started up again. He couldn’t go there, couldn’t do that again. Not for anyone. Not even for Kit.
He’d learned his lesson and he would never make the same mistake again. Not with Kit. Not with any woman.
He swung in his chair to survey the harbour, a scowl building through him. Reckless. Idiotic. That was what he’d been. He should’ve taken more care around her. He should’ve…
He shouldn’t have hurt her.
The knowledge that he had pounded at him, lashed him with guilt. Even now. She deserved so much more than anything he could ever offer her.
She deserved the best. She would never find the best with him. He didn’t do family, forever and commitment. He couldn’t do it.
He tried to focus on the scene before him, wil ed himself to appreciate its beauty. When that didn’t work he dragged a hand down his face. It took an effort of wil to stop his shoulders from slumping.
He’d regret hurting Kit til the day he died, that was something he couldn’t change. But no doubt she’d found a way to move on and so had he.
There was just one more test.
He leant across and pressed a button on his intercom. ‘Phil ip, can you set up a meeting with Kit Mercer for some time tomorrow afternoon.’
There was a hesitation at the other end of the line.
‘Sir, Kit resigned. Al the details are in a file in your in-box. She finished up at the end of the week before last.’
Alex didn’t say anything. He sat back and stared at the intercom. He stared at his in-box. He tried to work out how he felt.
Betrayal. And relief.
The betrayal was nonsense. Kit owed him nothing.
He rubbed the back of his neck. Relief? Maybe she was right. Maybe this was the answer—cut al ties and never clap eyes on each other again.
He leapt up, paced, stopped to track the Manly ferry’s
progress
into
Circular
Quay,
and
remembered Kit tel ing him how much she loved working for Hal am Enterprises. She’d said it was her dream job. He remembered her smile, the way her eyes had shone…and her gratitude to him.
His hands clenched. He recal ed how, in their few His hands clenched. He recal ed how, in their few meetings since then, two faint lines would appear on her forehead whenever she looked at him and how her eyes would dim. He’d taken her dream job, al the satisfaction she found in her work, and had turned it to ashes.
Letting her walk away, never having to see her again, that would be easy. It’d also be incredibly selfish. Kit had loved her job. She shouldn’t be made to suffer on his account any more than she already had. He had to make this right!
He swore loud and hard. That was what his trip to Africa had been about—wanting to do something positive rather than negative, helping rather than hurting, making someone’s life a bit better rather than a bit worse. He’d needed to feel that he could make a difference in a good way instead of a bad one.
Letting Kit walk away was making a difference in a bad way. He’d done enough damage where she was concerned. He had no intention of adding to the score.
He scattered the contents of his in-box across his desk until he found the file he wanted. He tucked it under his arm. ‘Tel Donald he’s stil in charge,’ he shot at Phil ip as he strode from his office. He punched the button for the elevator…twice…three times. ‘There’s something I need to take care of.’
Phil ip did his best not to gape. Kit would’ve stood, hands on hips, and demanded to know where he was going, what time he’d be back and what he expected her to tel al his appointments for the day.
Alex shot into the elevator before Phil ip could ask him anything so unanswerable.
Al of those answers depended on Kit.
Alex double-checked the file that lay open on the car seat beside him, and glanced again at the house opposite. There was no doubt about it, this was the address. This was where Kit now lived.
He frowned. It was a far cry from her stylish one-bedroom flat in French’s Forest. That building had been al square blonde brick with a couple of wel -
trimmed hibiscuses out the front. This wasn’t anywhere near as wel -ordered. This was…messy.
Paint peeled from weatherboards, and one end of the tiny veranda sagged. What lawn there was needed cutting. Shrubs grew wil y-nil y in the front garden. Most of it was obscured, though, by the enormous
