The Right Mr Wrong. Natalie Anderson
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her brain. ‘Why are you at the chateau so far ahead of the wedding? Isn’t your life so busy you could only fly in the day before?’
‘I’m on holiday. Thought I’d help her out with some arrangements.’
As he’d helped prepare for that Christmas years ago? He’d worked alongside her—helping out in all kinds of ways. As if he, like she, couldn’t cope with sitting around idly all day. She’d always wanted to feel needed. But she didn’t think he craved other people’s approval in the same way she did. ‘You don’t want to laze on the beach?’
He shook his head. ‘I’d want to be on the water.’
‘You’re not good at having a holiday.’ He’d always sought out something to do.
‘I prefer to keep busy.’
‘Why’s that? You can’t relax?’
She glanced at him. His eyes were hidden by the sunglasses, but his mouth curved into that wicked grin.
‘I can relax,’ he said softly.
‘By ‘getting busy’, right?’ she asked sarcastically, knowing that was exactly what he was thinking of. ‘But you can’t cope with quiet? You scared of being alone with your thoughts?
‘I’m a professional sportsman, right? Therefore I don’t have thoughts.’
Oh, he was no brainless jock type. He was smart, successful—you didn’t need to note the expensive watch and discreet-but-mega-expensive clothing labels to know that.
‘So what have you been keeping busy with these last five years?’ Once more she gave into her urges and asked.
‘You don’t know?’
She sent him a cool look. ‘No. You left on Christmas Day and that was that.’
His brows waggled above his sunglasses. ‘You mean you didn’t Google me?’
‘No.’ Laughter bubbled out at his irrepressible arrogance. ‘I’m sorry to deflate your ego, but I haven’t spent the last few years cyber-stalking you.’ Which wasn’t to say she hadn’t ever thought about him. But she’d resisted curiosity then and pushed him from her mind. Now his answer made her wonder. ‘Did you ever Google me?’
He smiled at the road ahead, his fingers rhythmically tapping the steering wheel.
Oh, my. ‘You did.’ She twisted in her seat and stared at him. ‘When did you Google me?’ It would have been easy to find her. She hadn’t changed her name—something that had really bothered Oliver. She had a website—it even had her picture on it. And she was on Facebook like anyone. She frowned, drew her lip between her teeth. What had Liam found out about her online? What info was out there that she didn’t know about?
‘When I heard you and Oliver had broken up,’ he said.
All that time later? A lone butterfly fluttered in her stomach. ‘How did you hear about that?’
‘I’m still in touch with some people in London.’
But not Oliver? ‘You know he’s gone to Canada.’
He nodded.
So he probably also knew Oliver hadn’t gone to Canada alone. What else did he know?
Suddenly cold, Victoria didn’t want to find out. She didn’t want to think what some of her old acquaintances might have said about how it all fell apart.
‘How do you know Aurelie?’ She turned back to stare out of the windscreen, folding her arms across her tummy.
There was a pause. ‘I’m one of her ex-boyfriends.’ Victoria clenched her fingers into fists, glad they were hidden under her arms. She kept her eyes firmly on the window. So he had wanted Aurelie. He’d had Aurelie. Then she remembered the expression that had briefly flared in his eyes when she’d interrupted him hugging Aurelie. Was he hurt because his former love was marrying someone else?
Victoria released the breath she’d held too long. ‘You’re still friends?’
‘We’re close.’ He inclined his head and briefly glanced at her. ‘Is that hard to believe?’
Frankly yes. What woman could be ‘just friends’ with Liam Wilson? He was too intensely attractive.
And what surprised her more was that he chose to remain in touch with Aurelie. He’d been the burning bridges type a few years ago.
‘Is she the one who got away?’ She tried to joke but it sounded flat to her. ‘Do you still hold a torch?’
‘I care very much about Aurelie, but—’
‘You care about yourself more?’ She couldn’t help interrupting rudely—she regretted asking anything now. She didn’t want to know.
He chuckled. ‘What is it about me that threatens you so much?’
‘Nothing. You don’t. I’m not bothered by you.’ Lord, could she sound any more flustered?
She tilted her head back and hoped the breeze would cool her cheeks.
‘No? I bothered you once. I made you want something you thought you shouldn’t.’ His smile was still there but all sense of joking was dead.
‘As arrogant as ever, I see.’ And a game player. He’d considered her sport. He’d done it because he couldn’t help himself—consumed by that driving need to win. Even over his best friend. Oliver had told her about the new sailor who’d come into the team—that he was driven like no one else.
He was driven to win in everything.
But even though she knew that to be the truth, her heart puckered. Surely it hadn’t entirely been a game? That attraction had been intensely fierce. Surely there was no way it had only been her feeling it for real?
And the night they’d first met, Liam hadn’t known she was Oliver’s girlfriend. Not until that heated look and those soft, searing words had already been exchanged.
‘You’d be disappointed if I wasn’t.’
She rolled her eyes but she couldn’t help those urges again. ‘So you and Aurelie?’
The wry smile on his lips told her he was amused by her curiosity. She lifted her chin and ploughed on anyway. Because, damn it, they’d shared something. They weren’t mere acquaintances. A moment of connection had forged a thread between them. Incredibly, she almost felt a right to know. He’d once interfered in her personal life—didn’t that give her certain leeway in return? ‘How long were you together?’
‘On and off, almost three years.’
She snapped her mouth shut, almost as shocked as when she’d first seen him walk into that room at the chateau. He’d been with Aurelie longer than she’d been married to Oliver? He must have loved her.
Liam chuckled. ‘I’ve surprised you.’
‘Yes.’ She drew a breath and nodded. ‘You have. But in a good way.’
‘Why good?’
‘You committed that long.’
‘You didn’t think I could commit?’ His brows shot high, an odd note sounding in his voice.
‘It doesn’t fit with your image.’
There was a pause. ‘What’s my image?’
Victoria swivelled in her seat again to look directly at him, determined to play it up and ease them back into that slightly wary, almost joking mood. ‘Untamable. Challenging. Arrogant.’
There were so many more adjectives she could add to his definition. But she wasn’t going to feed his ego any more.
‘And that makes me seem like I wouldn’t commit?’
‘Well,