He’s back
A Second Chance Romance
PROLOGUE
I kissed him. His tongue pushed into my mouth, probing and plundering and sweet all at once. I pressed my body against his, loving the way it felt when my soft body pushed against his hard, muscular chest. He wrapped me in those strong arms and gripped me close. He kissed me then drew back, gasping.
“Ainsley,” he growled. “You make me crazy.”
I laughed. He had such a sweet way with words.
“You too, Drake.”
He had been my brother's best friend and now he was my post-teenage dream. Of all the places I wanted to be, the Miami International Airport departure lounge was not one of them right now.
I stood back and studied him through tear-blurred eyes. He was so handsome I sometimes couldn't quite believe he was real. High forehead, long, straight nose, thick curling dark hair. I always thought he looked something like the Disney Prince of my little girl dreams, only even better with a muscled body and a smooth voice that drizzled through me like maple syrup on pancakes.
It all seemed a bit surreal now that I was at Miami International Airport with my hand on his suitcase and his goodbyes in my ears.
“It won't be long, will it?” I asked. I frowned up at him. All the joy in my heart was suddenly giving way to sadness.
“I don't know,” he sighed.
I swallowed hard. “I don't want it to be too long.”
He chuckled. “We're still young, Ainsley.” It was true. We were young. He was twenty-six, a freshly-graduated lawyer. I was a twenty-two-year-old Languages graduate. We had our whole lives ahead of us, but it seemed like a weird thing to say now.
He smiled fondly and traced his thumb down my cheek in the way he always did, a comfort for my tears.
“I just want you to be safe,” I whispered.
He kissed his thumb where it had touched my tears. The gesture moved me – so intimate, it lit a fire in my belly that his kisses had fostered already. I felt a sudden thrill of need for him.
“I will be safe,” he said.
I nodded. I turned away, my vision of the Miami International Airport blurred with flowing tears. I could dimly see others – families, couples, air-hostesses with their trimly-cut uniforms – standing in the hall around us. But none of it made sense. All that made sense was that I was here, with him, saying goodbye.
“I love you, Drake,” I murmured.
He closed his eyes. His handsome face took on an expression of pain, suddenly. I saw his throat work as he swallowed hard.
“I love you too, Ainsley.”
My heart thawed. It felt as if the fresh spring sun visited it, filling me with wonder.
“Drake.” I really was crying now. I reached and clung to him and our lips met with passionate urgency. My whole body shivered with my need of him.
“Ainsley.”
He stroked my hair when we parted and I pushed my forehead into his palm like a small puppy, seeking comfort. He smiled at me the way he always did, with that tenderness and care.
Then he walked away to join the queue across the barrier of airport tape.
My eyes blurred with tears, I watched his head move in the crowd until he passed the gate and I lost sight of him again.
Then I walked out to find my way home.
As I drove home, numbed with my sorrow, I thought about how crazy it was, what he was doing. Just through with college, Drake was heading off to Kinshasa, in the Democratic Republic of Congo. He was working for Amnesty International, documenting human rights abuses in prisons and on the mines.
Principled, upstanding Drake.
I shook my head, eyes blurring with tears as I looked through the windscreen. We had been together since my second year in college and I felt a little betrayed. I guessed the child laborers in the DRC needed him more than I did. But I loved him. I wanted him here, with me. It is selfish, but that’s what love does.
Drake was Drake. The needs of ten-year-old kids forced to work in mines were more important than his own needs, never mind those of someone else. Like mine, for instance. He had a big heart and a sense of justice. Unusual for a lawyer, my mom had joked. I'd scowled at her.
If Drake was anything but Drake, I wouldn't love him as much as I did.
And I did love him for an amount indescribable to put in words.
Now, looking out through my window in my apartment at the top of a massive high-rise building, I felt tears prick my eyes again.
It had been over eight years since Drake disappeared. That was the last time I saw him.
His sister, Halley, had told me he was back, but she'd been cagey. He only spent six months in Africa, she told me. He didn't tell me anything.
At least thanks to her I knew he was alive. That was a seven and a half years before now. Since then, I really thought I had moved on.
I sometimes wondered what had happened. Why he'd never contacted me.
I guess he didn't love me that much, really.
I blinked away my tears. If Keith hadn't just walked out on me too, I guess I wouldn't be so sad right now. But I was. Sniffing back my tears I stood and headed outside. No point, I told myself harshly, in thinking about the past.
I wasn't going to get a second chance.