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‘Hell, Ana, I’m sorry.’
    ‘It’s OK. It was a long time ago.’
    ‘Oh.’ He matched her small smile and aimed to lighten. ‘So what did your dad say?’
    Her smile faded. He should have known better—total foot-in-mouth syndrome.
    ‘They died together in an accident, Seb. I was six.’
    Seb sucked in a breath. ‘Ana, that’s terrible.’
    She stepped back, was going to walk away. But he didn’t want her to walk away. He wanted to know now—ask all the questions he hadn’t bothered with before. Maybe then he could understand her more. And his hand was cold now it wasn’t touching her. ‘Who did you go to, then?’
    ‘My mother’s brother and his wife.’
    Seb walked slowly beside her, wary about asking the obvious but unable to resist. ‘Are they nice?’
    She stopped walking. ‘You really want to know, Seb?’
    He nodded.
    She shook her head. ‘I was the stereotypical lonely orphan. They already had two children of their own—perfect little blonde things. I just didn’t fit in. Could never make the grade. And I was grieving. I guess I made it difficult for them right from the start. I closed up. I was hard work.’
    She was smiling, a touch of sarcasm acting as cover-up, but Seb got the glimpse of a pain that just had to run deep. ‘You were six. You had a right to grieve. You were lost. They should have found you.’
    She should have been brought safely home. And Seb understood what it was not to be wanted—hadn’t he had that vibe from a step-parent or two? ‘Did it get better? Did you get on with your cousins?’
    ‘Not really.’
    It had got worse, huh?
    ‘I left home as soon as I could.’
    Definitely worse.
    ‘What about you? You have brothers and sisters?’
    Seb hesitated. Where to begin on any of that nightmare? Yeah, he knew how hard it was to try to get along with other kids you had nothing in common with but that you had to live with because of the adults in your life. In his case it was because of the marriages—and remarriages—of his parents. But that was too big a can of worms and he went for the easy option. ‘No.’ He looked at her, waited for her to look at him. ‘Jeez, we really didn’t know each other at all, did we?’
    She held his gaze for a moment. Then laughed and turned away. ‘I don’t think we wanted to. I think we were both too happy in our own la-la lands.’
    He laughed at that. It was true. It had been such madness. ‘But it was good, wasn’t it?’ He couldn’t resist pointing it out. ‘What we did have.’
    There was a slight rise of her shoulders—and a total avoidance of answer. As a result he was compelled by the need to press her for more. ‘So why did you come to Africa? Did you send the divorce papers and then run away?’ That was a talent of hers, wasn’t it—running away?
    ‘I didn’t run away. I wanted an adventure. One that I was in control of.’
    As opposed to the adventure they’d had together? The one in which neither of them had been in control? ‘Were you going to see me when you got back?’
    ‘No.’
    She’d sent him the divorce papers, a brief note outlining her plans and asking for the paperwork to be sent to her new lawyer. She hadn’t wanted to see him;she’d hoped he’d simply sign and send it all away. ‘You’re a coward, Ana.’
    She was silent for a moment. Then he saw her chin go up. ‘I was. For a long time I was,’ she agreed quietly. ‘But I’m not any more.’
    Ana spent the late afternoon reading in the shade and ignoring the football game Seb had organised amongst the lads. She didn’t need reminding of how fit he was. She was already spending far too much time thinking of his incredible sex drive.
    But at dinner he sat beside her and made her converse—asked her about other highlights of the Africa trip, about what she’d seen and done. Safe topics. And yet not safe—because it was so easy to smile, to laugh, to relax. And as darkness swooped the conversation lengthened, deepened until she