The other woman tried to hide it, but she brightened at Mia’s words. ‘What about Dylan?’
‘I think you should call him.’
‘I meant what about you and Dylan?’
Oh. She glanced down at her hands. ‘I don’t know. I need to go somewhere quiet and think.’
‘So there’s hope?’
She met Carla’s gaze. ‘I hope there’s hope.’
After a moment Carla said, ‘I’m going to ring Dylan. I want Uncle Andrew charged with assault.’
Mia’s head shot up, a fierce gladness gripping her. ‘Good for you. Women shouldn’t have to put up with violence at the hands of men.’
Carla twisted her hands together. ‘It’ll create a media circus, though.’ She eyed Mia uncertainly. ‘And the reason for our argument will come out—which means you’ll be spotlighted in the media too.’
‘Me?’
Carla reached out and took Mia’s hand. ‘I know how much you’ve dreaded the media getting hold of the story that you and Dylan are dating. If the thought of publicity freaks you out that much, I won’t go ahead with it.’
Her heart thumped. She waited for dread and fear to fill her, but they didn’t. Why wasn’t she crippled with fear?
The answer came to her in an instant. Ever since she’d been released from jail she’d thought that scandal and losing her job, losing the chance of the quiet life she craved, were the worst things that could happen to her. She’d been wrong. Watching Dylan walk away this morning—that had been the worst thing.
Very slowly she shook her head. ‘It doesn’t freak me out. At least, not much.’ She met her friend’s gaze. ‘You have every right to slay your dragons. I’ll help in any way I can.’
Carla wrapped her in a hug. ‘Thank you.’
* * *
At four o’clock Mia let herself into the Plum Pines office. Sunday was one of the busiest days as far as the general public were concerned—lots of barbecues, picnics and viewing of the exhibits. It was a busy day for the volunteers who helped to run the wildlife displays too, but the administration of the reserve was a strictly Monday-to-Friday enterprise. Which meant she’d have the office to herself.
With a heart that pounded too fast, she switched on one of the computers and then pulled Felipe’s memory card from her pocket. Swallowing hard, she retrieved the image he’d snapped of her.
It filled the screen. She flinched and had to look away.
It’s only a photograph!
She glanced back and tried to study the picture objectively, but after only a few seconds she had to look away again.
Muttering something rude under her breath, she pushed out of her chair and paced across to the far wall. Hauling in a breath, she turned back to the image once more.
Her heart squeezed tight and her eyes filled. Felipe had captured something that attracted and repelled her at the same time. He’d captured something that both soothed and frightened her.
What was it?
In that photo her expression was so unguarded it made her head spin. Was it hope?
She moved back towards the computer monitor to study the image more minutely, biting down on her thumbnail.
Hope was part of it, but...
She reached out and touched the face on the screen.
That smile...
The emotion pulsing through the photograph was joy. It was so present she could almost feel the laughter wrap around her.
Joy? She’d spent so long feeling ashamed of herself, so determined not to repeat her mistakes, she’d forgotten. She’d forgotten she had a lot of good inside her too.
Her hands clenched and unclenched. She’d told herself that she couldn’t have fun and hope and joy in her life because she didn’t deserve them—not after the things she’d done.
But...
She’d made a mistake—a big one—but that mistake didn’t have to define the rest of her life unless she let it. Her heart hammered against her ribs. She didn’t need to shut herself away. She just needed to choose the right path...the right life.
She fell back into the chair, her cheeks wet. There wasn’t a tissue in sight, so she dried her cheeks on the sleeves of her shirt and sniffed rather inelegantly.
‘Right, then.’
She might as well start living that life right away.
She seized the phone and punched in a number.
‘Felipe Fellini.’
‘Felipe, it’s Mia.’
‘Mia, darling—what can I do for you?’
She told him.
After she’d hung up she pulled in a breath and rang Dylan.
He answered immediately. ‘Mia! Is everything okay?’
His caller ID must have given her away.
The sound of his voice made her throat dry and she had to clear it before she could speak. ‘Yes.’
‘I’ve spoken to Carla. Are you sure you’re all right with the publicity that a suit against Andrew will involve?’
She nodded, and then realised he couldn’t see her. ‘I’m sure.’
There was a pause. ‘That’s a surprise.’
She nodded again, more to herself this time. ‘Yes.’
‘What can I do for you?’
‘I was wondering...’ She wiped a damp palm down her jeans. ‘I was wondering if I could invite you on a date next Saturday night. There’s something I want you to see.’
‘Has this anything to do with Carla and Thierry?’
‘No. It’s to do with me.’
‘What time would you like me to pick you up?’
* * *
Dylan’s heart thumped when he knocked on Mia’s door. All week he’d alternated between hope and despair. Hope that this was the new beginning with Mia that he craved. Despair that this would be her way of bringing things between them to an end once and for all.
She opened the door. For a moment all he could do was stare. ‘You look stunning!’
She wore a scarlet dress with a shimmering satin bodice, fitted beneath her breasts. The skirt fell to her knees in a cloud of chiffon that moved as she walked.
She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘You look very nice yourself.’
He was glad he’d worn a dinner jacket. Especially when her hand fluttered up to her throat, as if the sight of him made it hard for her to breathe. The smile she sent him, though, held a hint of shyness—like a girl on her first date.
This probably was her first real date in nearly four years. Tenderness washed over him.
After she’d locked the front door he held out his arm, ridiculously pleased when she placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. ‘Your chariot awaits.’
For good or for ill, he had a feeling he’d remember tonight for the rest of his life.
‘Where are we going?’
She gave him an inner-city address. He had no idea what was there, but he didn’t ask any further questions. He’d let the evening unfold at the pace