But another reminder of the past, Ric thought. Did Lara want that understanding of her marriage from the people around her? For what purpose?
'Do you have any plans for where you will go once the house sells?' 'I haven't had time to look yet.'
'But you've thought about it,' he prompted.
'Yes.' She shrugged. 'Somewhere smaller.' A wisp of a smile. 'A place to call my own.'
Another pointer to complete independence. 'In Sydney?'
She nodded and sipped again. 'Any suburb in particular?'
'I want to be reasonably close to my mother.'
Her mother? Who hadn't listened to her problems? Who'd sided with Gary?
Ric found his jaw clenching and it took considerable willpower to unclench it. Lara was choosing to be near people who hadn't lifted a finger to help her, while he had been kept out on the perimeter, barely acknowledged by her. It made no sense to him.
Unless he was the most painful reminder of all she had been through— the one closest to it because of the intimacy she had begged of him.
But what of the feelings that had surfaced that night? Was she now embarrassed by them?
Wishing she hadn't laid herself quite so bare with him?
'Is everything going well with you, Ric?' she asked, assuming an expression of bright interest.
'Business-wise, yes. On a personal level…' His gaze locked onto hers, searching, questioning. '…I've been missing you, Lara.'
His choice of words were pointedly deliberate and she flinched from them, tearing her gaze from his and dropping it to the glass of water which she turned around and around on the table. He felt no sympathy whatsoever for her tension. If she'd lied to him about missing him all these years, she deserved to stew in her lie.
'Mitch Tyler assured me that Gary hadn't done you any injury, either personally or professionally,' she said stiffly.
'No. I guess you could say I did him one.'
It startled her into looking up, a pained confusion in her eyes. 'What injury?'
'I did take you from him,' he reminded her, returning a look of black irony.
'I went willingly. I'd already tried…'
'Yes, I know. But then it was also me who gave him the lead to Gundamurra, which ended in his death.'
'You? I don't understand.'
He shrugged. 'I guess Mitch didn't tell you that Gary's private investigator had bugged his home telephone.'
She shook her head.
'After you e-mailed me not to come, I called Mitch to ask if he knew of any reason why I shouldn't go to Gundamurra, with all due care taken.
That's how your husband found out where you were, Lara.' 'Oh!'
'Though I daresay all's well that ends well,' Ric mocked. 'You're not only completely free of him now, but also left a wealthy widow.'
She took offence at the mercenary aspect. 'I'll only be taking what I need to…to…'
Ric waved a dismissive gesture. 'You're entitled, Lara. God knows what you put up with as his wife.'
'It's not about money,' she stated with fierce pride.
'No,' he agreed. 'You've already made it clear it's about independence.' 'And setting things right,' she quickly added.
'Oh?' He raised his eyebrows. 'Is that what this lunch is for…setting things right with me?'
She stared at him, through him, her eyes becoming unfocused. She finally dropped her gaze, shook her head, and muttered, 'I don't know how to do that, Ric.'
The wine waiter arrived with the bottle of Chardonnay Ric had selected. There was the usual process of showing him the label, uncorking the bottle, pouring a taster. Ric gave his approval. The waiter moved to pour Lara some of the wine. She covered her glass with her hand.
'None for me, thank you. I'll stick to water.'
Wanted to keep her head, Ric instantly thought, while I lose mine.
The waiter filled his glass and left.
Ric didn't touch it. He'd ordered the wine automatically—an appropriate complement to the seafood they'd selected. If he'd known he'd be drinking it alone, he wouldn't have even glanced at the wine list. Lara's refusal of it felt like another point of separation—one less thing shared.
Was he overreacting…reading this all wrong?
If he put himself out to be charming instead of challenging, would it make any difference?
She had come to this lunch.
He tried to push his anger and frustration aside, tried to come at the situation through her mind. 'I'm sorry.' He managed a self-deprecating smile. 'I'm not making this easy, am I?'
She sighed. Her eyes reflected a weariness of spirit that held out no hope for him. 'It never was going to be easy, Ric.'
Undoubtedly the reason why she had evaded—postponed—any personal contact with him. He decided he might as well be direct.
'Why, Lara? Is it because of that night?'
Again she flushed and couldn't hold his gaze, dropping hers to the glass of water again.
'I remember it as good,' he stated quietly. She closed her eyes.
No reply.
The memory was very vivid in his mind…how she had responded to everything he'd done. Not once had he moved on without being certain it was what she wanted and welcomed. And afterward…the sense of loving and being loved. No hint of regret. No second thoughts about its rightness. She'd snuggled up to him and fallen asleep in his arms.
'I thought it was good for you, too,' he murmured.
She shook her head. 'It was wrong,' she blurted out. 'I shouldn't have asked. Shouldn't have pressed.'
Her tone was pained, carrying thousands of regrets.
Shame…guilt…humiliation…were all those negative feelings attached to him now, making it difficult for her to look him in the face?
'It didn't feel wrong to me, Lara,' he softly assured her. 'I don't think any less of you for wanting what you did. It's a natural impulse to use sex as an affirmation of life.'
'Please…' She raised anguished eyes. 'I'd rather you didn't refer to it, Ric.'
She was skewering him, giving him no room to move. He frowned, certain now that this was at the heart of the problem she had with being in his company. 'You want me to sit here and pretend it never happened?'
'I can't do that, either,' she cried, the calm composure she'd greeted him with now in total tatters. 'I'm sorry. You've been so good to me but…' Her eyes pleaded. '…I want to close the door on it, Ric.'
Wipe it out.
He'd made love to her because she'd wanted to wipe out Gary. She didn't need that anymore.
Gary was dead.
But Ric Donato was still alive and kicking…kicking hard against her wish to wipe him out of her life. Futile…if she'd made up her mind.
'I guess you'd better spell that out to me, Lara. Do you only want the door closed on what we shared in the past? Or do you also want it closed on any future we might have together?'
She took a deep breath. Her eyes looked sick but she said the words. 'There is no future for us, Ric.'
It was a flat, unequivocal denial of the bond he'd felt with her—a bond that had spanned eighteen years for him and would probably haunt the rest of his life.
He couldn't stop himself from asking, 'Are you sure about that?' 'Yes. I'm sure.'
No hesitation. No room for doubt.
He should move. Go. Couldn't make himself do it. It felt as though every atom of energy had drained out of his body. He stared at the glass of wine the waiter had poured. A cup of poison, he thought.
'I'm sorry,' she murmured. 'I owe you so much and there's no way I can repay…'
His gaze flicked to hers in savage derision. 'There's no debt. Everything I did…was what I wanted to do.'
Her cheeks were burning. 'I kept all the dockets from the clothes you bought me. I've written you a cheque. At least let me repay that, Ric.'
She reached down for her handbag. He exploded onto his feet. 'Don't!'
She snapped back up without the bag. He glowered down at the strained appeal on her face. 'This isn't about money,' he grated, trying to contain the mountain of emotion erupting inside him. 'It never was. Though I tried to
close the gap between us by stealing the Porsche. That was the blindness of a boy who thought he wasn't good enough for you. I don't know what your measure is, Lara, but I will not accept being paid off.'
He had the grim satisfaction of seeing her look shattered. 'Enjoy your freedom,' he said.
And walked away.