Tempted By The Single Doc

CHAPTER TWO

WHO’S TAKEN ALL the air out of this box? Zac stared around the elevator car, looking for a culprit. His eyes latched onto Olivia. He had his answer. It was her fault he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t keep his heart beating in a normal, steady rhythm. Olivia Coates-Clark. CC for short. CC was short. Delicate looking—not delicate of mind. Tiny, yet big on personality. Filled out in all the right places—as he well knew. Fiery when pushed too far, sweet when everything was going her way. An itch.

An itch he would never scratch again. He absolutely had to ignore it.

She’d dumped him. Hard and fast. Slapped at his pride. He did the leaving, when he was good and ready, not the other way round. He should’ve been grateful, was grateful. Having more than his usual three or four dates with Olivia had got him starting to look out for her. On the rare unguarded moments when something like deep pain had crept into her gaze he’d wanted to protect her; and that was plain dumb. Given his past, that made him a danger to her. He hurt people; did not protect them. He also didn’t feel like having his heart cut and cauterised again when she learned of his inadequacies. No, thanks.

Hang on. Had she found out? Was that why Olivia had pulled the plug on their affair? Because she’d found him to be flawed? No. She still looked at him as she always had—hot and hungry, not disgusted or aloof.

Breathing was impossible. Not only was Olivia using up the oxygen, she was filling the resulting vacuum with the scent of flowers and fruit and everything he remembered about her. Hell, let me out of this thing. Fast. He took a step towards the doors, stopped, glanced at the control panel. They were moving between floors. Get a hold of yourself.

Yeah, sure. This is what Olivia always did to him. Tipped him upside down with a look, sent his brain to the dump with a finger touch, and cranked up his libido so fast and high just by being in the same air as him. Exactly what was happening now. His crotch was tight, achingly tight. As was his gut. Nothing new there. Eighteen months without setting eyes on her, with only once talking on the phone about the auction, and he was back to square one. Back to lusting after her. Unbelievable. How could a grown man with a successful career as an orthopaedic surgeon, presumably an intelligent and sane man dedicated to remaining uninvolved with women, lose all control because of this one?

Olivia Coates-Clark. She was why he felt three sheets to the wind—and he hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol all week. He’d been too busy with scheduled surgeries and two emergencies involving major operations to have any time to enjoy a drink and take in the ever-changing view from his apartment living room. But within minutes of being with CC he felt as though he’d downed a whole bottle of whiskey. This was shaping up to be a big night in a way he didn’t need.

A phone buzzed discreetly. As nothing vibrated on his hip it had to be Olivia’s. He listened with interest as she answered, totally unabashed about eavesdropping.

‘Olivia Coates-Clark speaking.’ Her gaze scanned the ceiling as she listened to her caller. Then, ‘Thank you so much. Your efforts are really appreciated.’ Her finger flicked across the screen and the phone was shoved back into her pocket. ‘One problem sorted.’ She smiled directly at him.

‘Had a few?’ he asked, trying to ignore the jolt of need banging into his groin as his gaze locked on those lush lips.

‘I guess it would be too much to expect arranging something as big as this has become to go off without some hitches. It hasn’t been too bad, though.’ Had she just crossed her fingers?

‘Whose idea was it to raise money for Andy Brookes? Yours?’

Olivia nodded, and her copper-blonde hair brushed her cheek, adding further to his physical discomfort. ‘I’ll put my hand up, but from the moment I started talking to surgeons at Auckland Surgical Hospital it went viral. Everyone wants to be a part of supporting Andy. I imagine tonight’s going to raise a fair whack of dosh. People have been unbelievably generous with offering art, holidays, and other amazing things to auction.’ She smiled again, her mouth curving softly, reminding him of how he used to like lying beside her in his bed, watching her as she dozed after sex. All sweet and cute, and vastly different from the tigress who could sex him into oblivion. ‘Thank you for your generous gift,’ she was saying.

He’d put in a weekend for a family of four on his luxury yacht, with all the bells and whistles, and he’d be at the helm. ‘Andy was the most popular guy in our senior registrar years. He never failed to help someone out when they were down.’

‘You forget the practical jokes.’ Again she smiled, making those full lips impossible to ignore.

So he didn’t; studied them instead. Covered in a deep pink sheen, he could almost feel them on his skin as she kissed his neck just below his ear, or touched his chest, his belly, his … He groaned inwardly and leaned away from her, concentrating on having a polite conversation with his ex-lover. ‘I have vivid memories of some of the things Andy did to various people.’ He sighed as he tried to ease his need. Memories. There were far too many of Olivia stacked up in his mind. He should’ve heeded them and replied no to the invitation to join his colleagues tonight. He could’ve said he was doing the laundry or cleaning his car. But he’d wanted—make that needed—to get her out of his system once and for all, and had thought joining her tonight would be the ticket. Now he’d like nothing more than the gala to be over so he could head across the road to his quiet, cold apartment and forget Olivia.

‘Have you met Andy’s wife?’

‘Kitty was at a conference with Andy that we attended in Christchurch last year.’ The conference you were supposed to speak at and cancelled the day after you walked out of my life.

Olivia must’ve recalled that too because a shadow fell over those big eyes, darkening the hyacinth blue shade to the colour of ashes. Why did he always think of flowers when he was around her?

‘I had an emergency. At home.’ She spoke softly, warily.

‘You lived on your own.’ She didn’t have kids. Not that he knew of. Hell, he didn’t even know if she had siblings.

‘My mother was unwell.’ She straightened her already straight spine and said, ‘Andy was going places back then. Hard to believe he’s now facing the fight of his life to remain alive, instead of continuing his work with paraplegics.’

What had been the problem with her mother? If he asked he doubted she’d tell him, and if she did then he’d know things about her that would make him feel connected with her. The last thing he wanted. Feeling responsible for her was not on his agenda. So, ‘Andy’s got a chance if he has the radical treatment they’re offering him in California.’

‘It must be hard for Kitty too.’

‘Unimaginable.’ Zac took a step closer to CC, ready to hug away that sadness glittering out at him. Sadness for their friend? Or her mother? Something had disturbed her cool facade.

Zac understood confronting situations that threatened to destroy a person. He’d been eighteen when the accident had happened that had left his brother, Mark, a paraplegic. Two years older than Mark, he was supposed to have been the sensible one. Try being sensible with an out-of-control, aggressive younger brother intent on riling him beyond reason. Nearly twenty years later the guilt could still swamp Zac, despite Mark having got on with his life, albeit a different one from what he’d intended before the accident.

The guilt was crippling. Being ostracised by his family because he’d been driving the car when it had slammed over the wall into the sea was as gutting. That’s what put the shields over his heart. If his parents couldn’t love him, who could? If he wasn’t to be trusted to be responsible then he had no right to think any woman would be safe with him. Or any children he might have. So he had to keep from letting anyone near enough to undermine his determination to remain single, even when it went against all he believed in.

Olivia shuffled sideways, putting space between them. ‘Here’s hoping we raise a fortune tonight.’

Zac swallowed his disappointment, tried to find it in himself to be grateful Olivia had the sense to keep their relationship on an impersonal footing. It didn’t come easily. He’d prefer to hug her, which wouldn’t have helped either of them get past this tension that had gripped them from the instant he’d sauntered into the hotel. He wanted her, and suspected—no, he knew—she wanted him just as much. The one thing they’d been very good at had been reading each other’s sexual needs. There hadn’t been much else. Shallow maybe, but that’s how they’d liked it. Their lives had been busy enough with work and study. Their careers had been taking off, leaving little time for much else.

But right now hugging Olivia would be wonderful. Why? He had no idea, but being this close to her he felt alive in a way he hadn’t for months. Eighteen months, to be exact. This feeling wasn’t about sex—though no denying he’d struggle to refuse if it was offered—but more about friendship and closeness. No, not closeness. That would be dangerous. He hauled the armour back in place over his heart. One evening and the itch would be gone.

The elevator doors slid open quietly. Zac straightened from leaning against the wall, held his hand out to indicate to Olivia go first. ‘After you.’

Following her, his gaze was firmly set on the backs of those wonderful legs and the sexy knee-length black boots highlighting them to perfection. Was it wrong to long for what they used to have? Probably not, but needing the closeness with her? That was different from anything he’d experienced, made him vulnerable. Earlier, seeing Olivia standing in Reception, looking like she had everything in hand, he’d felt the biggest lurch of his heart since the day his world had imploded as that car had sunk into the sea and his brother had screamed at him, ‘I hate you.’

‘Zac.’ Olivia stopped, waited for him to come alongside her.

That slim neck he remembered so well was exposed where her coat fell open at her shoulders. ‘CC.’ If he used the nickname he might stop wanting something he couldn’t have. This woman had already shown she could toss him aside as and when it suited her.

He watched as the tightness at the corners of her mouth softened into another heart-wrenching smile. ‘Funny, I haven’t been called CC for a while. I used to like having a nickname. More than anything else it made me feel I belonged to our group.’

‘You never felt you belonged? Olivia, without you we wouldn’t have had so many social excursions or parties. You held our year together.’ She’d worked hard at organising fun times for them, sometimes taking hours away from her studies and having to make up for it with all-night sessions at her desk. But to feel she hadn’t been an integral part of the group? How had he missed that?

Her smile turned wry. ‘I’ve always taken charge. That way I’m not left out, and I get to call the shots. No one’s going to ignore the leader, are they?’

His heart lurched again, this time for the little girl blinking out from those eyes staring at some spot behind him. He certainly didn’t know this Olivia. ‘I guess you’re right.’ With his family he’d learned what it felt like to be on the outside, looking in, but at university he’d made sure no one had seen that guy by working hard at friendships. A lot like Olivia apparently. Everyone at med school had adored her. She could be extroverted and fun, crazy at times, but never out of control. It was like she’d walked a tightrope between letting go completely and keeping a dampener on her feelings.

Except in bed—with him.

Damn, he’d like nothing more than to take Olivia to bed again. But it wouldn’t happen. Too many consequences for both of them. The vulnerability in Olivia’s eyes, her face, told him he could hurt her badly without even trying. That blew him apart. He wanted to protect her, not unravel her. He cared about her.

Trying to get away from Zac and her monumental error, Olivia rushed through the magnificent double doors opening into the banquet room now decorated in blue and white ribbons, table linen, chair covers. Since when did she go about telling people about her insecurities? Not even Zac—especially not Zac—had heard the faintest hint of how she didn’t trust people not to trash her. She did things like this fundraiser so that people thought the best of her. That was the underlying reason she could not fail, would not have tonight be less than perfect. The same reason everything she did was done to her absolute best and then some. She must not be found lacking. Or stupid. Or needy.

Coming to a sudden halt, Olivia stared around the function room, which had been made enormous by sliding back a temporary wall. The sky-blue shade of Andy’s favourite Auckland rugby team dominated. In the corner countless buckets of blue and white irises had finally been delivered and were waiting for the florist to arrange them in the clear glass bowls that were to go in the centre of each table. Everything was coming together as she’d planned it.

She was aware of Zac even before he said, ‘Looking fantastic.’

Zac. Those few minutes in the elevator had been torture. Her nostrils had taken in his spicy aftershave, while her body had leaned towards his without any input from her brain. When he’d looked like he’d been about to hug her she’d at least had the good sense to move away, even when internally she’d been crying out to have those strong arms wound around her. Now she stamped a big smile on her face and acknowledged, ‘It is.’ Too bad if the smile didn’t reach her eyes; hopefully Zac wouldn’t notice.

‘You’re not happy about something.’ He locked that formidable gaze onto her. ‘Give.’

Once again she’d got it wrong when it came to second-guessing him. ‘The florist’s running late, the wineglasses haven’t been set out, the band assured me they’d be set up by four and …’ she glanced at her watch ‘… it’s now three twenty-five.’ And you’re distracting me badly. I want you. In my bed. Making out like we used to. Actually, I’d settle for that hug.

‘We can do this. Tell me what you want done first.’ His eyes lightened with amusement, as if he’d read her mind.

He probably had. How well did she know him? Really? They hadn’t been big on swapping notes on family or growing up or the things they were passionate about. Only the bedroom stuff. Shoving her phone at him, she said, ‘Try the band. Their number’s in there. Eziboys.’

‘You’ve got the Eziboys coming to this shindig?’ Admiration gleamed out at her. ‘What did you have to do? Bribe them with free plastic surgery for the rest of their lives?’

With a light punch to his bicep she allowed, ‘One of them went to school with Andy’s younger brother. They want to help the family.’

‘Not your formidable charm, then?’ He grinned a full-blown Zachary Wright grin, one that was famous for dropping women to their knees in a begging position.

Click, click. Her knees locked and she stayed upright. Just. ‘Phone them, please.’ Begging didn’t count if she remained standing. Anyway, she wanted the band at the moment, not sex with this hunk in front of her looking like he’d stepped off the cover of a surfing magazine. Another lie.

Zac was already scrolling through her contact list. ‘Got a dance card? I want the first one with you. And the second, third, and fourth. Oh, I know, I’ll put those in your diary for tonight.’

Dance card, my butt. How out of date could he get? ‘You’ll be inundated with offers.’ Did he really want to dance with her? She’d never survive. What little control she might exercise on her need would sink without trace if he so much as held her in his arms, let alone danced with her. Anyway, he wasn’t making sense. He’d been peed off when she dumped him, so he wouldn’t want to get close to her on the dance floor. Or did he have other plans? Plans that involved payback? Tease and tempt her, then say bye-bye?

As Zac put the phone to his ear he shook his head. ‘If you didn’t want dancing tonight you should’ve gone to the retirement village to find a group of old guys with their tin whistles to play for us.’

‘I enjoy dancing.’ Just don’t intend doing it with you.

‘I didn’t know that. Looking forward to it. Looks like your florist has arrived.’ He nodded in the direction of the doors, then went back to the phone. ‘Jake, is that you, man? How’re you doing?’

Olivia stared at Zac. He knew Jake Hamblin, the band’s lead guitarist? That could be good for getting the band to actually turn up. Zac was full of surprises. Hadn’t he said something about the florist too? Spinning around, she came face-to-face with a neat and tidy woman dressed in black tailored trousers and an angora jersey under her jacket. Nothing flower-like about her. ‘You’re the florist? I’m Olivia Coates-Clark.’

The woman nodded, sent Zac a grin. ‘That’s me. I see the flowers finally turned up. Show me exactly where you want these arrangements and I’ll get on with it.’

Zac was handing the phone back to Olivia. ‘How’s things, Mrs Flower?’ That really was her name. ‘Your hip still working fine?’

‘You were the surgeon. What do you think?’

Zac’s laughter was loud and deep, and sent pangs of want kicking up a storm in Olivia’s stomach. ‘Good answer,’ he said.

So he knew this woman too. Probably used her for sending beautiful flowers to all his women. Ouch. He’d sent her flowers when she’d dumped him. A stunning, colourful bouquet of peonies, not thorns or black roses, as well he might’ve.

‘Do we have a band?’ she asked in her best let’s-get-on-with-things voice.

‘Filling the service elevator with gear as we speak,’ Zac said. ‘What’s next? Want those buckets of flowers moved somewhere?’

The band was on its way; the flowers were about to be fixed. Olivia shook her head in amazement. Two more ticks on her mental list of outstanding things to get finished. Things just happened around Zac. Somehow it had all got easier with him here. ‘We need two long tables up against that far wall for the auction. The hotel liaison officer went to find them an hour ago.’ She needed to display the gifts that’d been donated.

‘Not a problem.’ Did he have to sound so relaxed?

The clock was ticking. That long soak she’d planned on in the big tub in her room upstairs before putting on her new dress, also from the shop where she’d got her coat, might just be a possibility. ‘Easy for you to say,’ she snapped.

Zac took her arm and led her across to where the florist was already wiring irises into clever bunches that were going to look exquisite. ‘You explain where you want everything and try to relax. We’ll get this baby up and running on time. That’s a promise.’

‘I am relaxed.’

‘About as relaxed as a mouse facing down a cat. A big cat.’ He grinned and strolled away before she could come up with a suitable rejoinder.

Very unlike her. She always had an answer to smartass comments. Watching Zac’s casual saunter, she noted the way those wide shoulders filled his leather jacket to perfection. Her tongue moistened her lips. No wonder she wasn’t thinking clearly—the distractions were huge and all came in one package. Zachary Wright.

CHAPTER THREE

AN HOUR LATER, Zac handed Olivia a champagne flute filled with bubbly heaven. ‘Here, get that into you. It might help you unwind.’

‘I can’t drink now. I’ve got to finish in here, then get myself ready.’ Her taste buds curled up in annoyance at being deprived of their favourite taste. But she had a big night ahead of her so having a drink before it had even begun was not a good idea.

With the proffered glass Zac nudged her hand—which seemed to have a life of its own as it reached towards him. ‘One small drink will relax you, Olivia.’ He wrapped her fingers around the cool stem. ‘Go on.’ There was a dare in his eyes as he raised his own glass to his lips.

Zac knew she never turned down a dare. But she’d have to. Tonight’s success rested on her being one hundred and ten per cent on her game. Her mother had taught her well—go easy on the alcohol or make a fool of herself. Not going to happen tonight when everyone’s eyes would be on her.

Zac’s throat worked as he tasted the champagne. Appreciation lit up his eyes. His tongue licked his bottom lip.

And Olivia melted; deep inside where she’d stored all her Zac memories there was a pool of hot, simmering need. The glass clinked against her teeth as the divine liquid spilled across her tongue. And while her shoulders lightened, tension of a different kind wound into a ball in her tummy and down to her core. ‘Delicious,’ she whispered. Zac or the wine?

He nodded. ‘Yes, Olivia, it is. Now, take that glass upstairs to your room and have a soak in the hot tub before getting all glammed up. I’ll see to anything else that needs to be done here before I go across to change.’

She went from relaxed to controlled in an instant. ‘No. Thank you. I need to check on those flowers and—’

‘All sorted.’ From the table he handed her an iris that been tidied and then tied with a light blue ribbon. ‘Take this up with you.’

Even as she hesitated, her hand was again accepting his gift. What was it with her limbs that they took no notice of her brain? ‘My favourite flower.’

‘That particular shade matches your eyes perfectly.’

‘Wedgwood. That’s the variety’s name.’ She stared at it, seeing things that had absolutely nothing to do with this weekend. Or Zac. All to do with her past.

When she made to hand it back he took her hand and held it between them, his fingers firm. His thumb caressed the inside of her wrist. ‘Who does it remind you of?’ Very perceptive of him.

How had she walked away from this man? She must’ve been incredibly strong that day, or very stupid. ‘My father used to grow irises.’ Before he’d left because he’d been unable to cope with his wife’s drunken antics. And I could? I was only twelve, Dad.

Tugging free from Zac’s hand, she stepped back a pace. ‘Why are you helping me?’ He hadn’t decided to target her for sex, had he? Or was that her ego taking a hit? Zac never had trouble getting a woman; he didn’t need her. Even if what they’d had between them had been off the planet.

Zac’s eyes held something suspiciously like sympathy. She hated that. She didn’t need it, had finally learned how to deal with her mother by controlling her own emotions, not her mother’s antics. The same tactic kept men at a distance. Except for Zac, she’d managed very well. When she’d shocked herself one day by realising she cared about him more than she should she’d immediately called the whole thing off. No one would ever leave her again. No one could ever accuse her of being a slow learner.

‘I’m here because you needed help.’ Zac tapped the back of her hand to get her attention. ‘I’m alone, as in no partner, so doing stuff behind the scenes isn’t going to get anyone’s back up. I figured you’d be pleased, not trying to get rid of me.’

I’ve already done that once.

The words hung in the air between them, as though she’d said them out loud. She hadn’t, but her cheeks heated, as if she was blushing. Not something she was known for. ‘I’m sorry for being an ungrateful cow.’ She sipped from her glass while she gathered her scattered brain cells into one unit. ‘It’s great you’re here. I’d still be trying to persuade that florist into doing things my way if you hadn’t worked your magic on her.’ She’d felt a tad ill at the ease with which he’d managed to convince the florist that her way was right. ‘You also got that kid behind the bar to arrange the glasses in a much more spectacular pyramid than he’d intended.’

‘While you charmed the floor manager into putting a dog basket in the corner for the seeing eye dog. It’s against all the rules apparently.’ Zac’s smile was beautiful when he wasn’t trying to win a favour. Too damned gorgeous for his own good. And hers.

‘A blind person is allowed to take their dog anywhere.’

‘But not necessarily have a bed for the night in the banquet room.’ That smile just got bigger and better, and ripped through her like a storm unleashed.

She needed to get away before she did something as stupid as suggesting he give her a massage before she got dressed for the night. Zac’s hands used to be dynamite when he worked on her muscles. He’d done a massage course sometime during his surgical training and was more than happy to share his ability with anyone needing a muscle or two unknotted. He’d done a lot more than that with her at times, but tonight she’d settle for a regular massage to get the strain and ache out of her shoulders.

Another lie. She gulped her drink, but forgot to savour the taste as the bubbles crossed her tongue. Lying wasn’t something she normally did, not even to herself, as far as she knew.

‘Here.’ Zac held the champagne bottle in front of her, and leaned in to top up her glass. ‘Take that up to your room.’

‘You’re repeating yourself.’

‘Didn’t think you’d got the message the first time.’ Taking her elbow, he began marching her towards the elevators where he pressed the up button, and when the doors whooshed open he nudged her in. ‘See you at pre-dinner drinkies.’

‘I’ll be down well before six.’ As the doors closed quietly Oliva drew in his scent and along with it a whole heap more memories. The night ahead was stretching out ever further. She’d tried again to change the seating arrangement at the tables, but couldn’t without upsetting someone else. She sighed. Have to swallow that one and hope she’d be too busy to sit down.

Olivia tapped the toe of her boot until the elevator eased to a halt on her floor. Surprisingly she had nearly an hour to herself, thanks to Zac’s help. Plenty of time to wrestle into submission the strong emotions she’d never expected to feel for him again. Then she could carry on as planned: friendly yet aloof. So far her approach had been a big fail.

Inside her room she began shedding clothes as she headed for the bathroom and the tub she wanted full, steaming and bubbling.

After turning the taps on full, she poured in a hefty dose of bubble bath and shucked out of the rest of her clothes. Removing her make-up, she saw a goofy smile and happier eyes in the mirror than she’d seen in a very long time.

Hey, be careful.

Why was she excited? She didn’t want another affair with the man. It had been hard enough walking away from the first one; to do that again would kill her. Even though their affair had had little to do with anything other than sex, she’d stumbled through the following weeks trying to get back on track. It had her wondering for the millionth time how her father had walked out on her and her mother without a backward glance. He’d had more to lose, yet every communication from him—not many—had come through a lawyer. No birthday cards, Christmas phone calls. Nothing. Her dad had vanished from her life. And that was that.

Slipping into the warm water and feeling the bubbles tickle her chin eased every last knot of tension from her taut body. Sure, it’d make a comeback, but for the next twenty minutes she’d enjoy the lightness now in her muscles, her tummy, her everywhere. That might help with facing Zac tonight.

Olivia knew she had to be on her best form because their friends wouldn’t be able to refrain from watching her and Zac, looking for any hints of dissension or, worse, any sign they might be interested in each other again. Not a chance, folks.

Lying back, her eyes drifted shut and she watched the movie crossing her mind. Zac looking good enough to devour in one sitting. That well-honed body still moved like a panther’s, wary yet smooth, the same as the expression in his eyes. Unbelievable how much she’d missed that body. Missed everything about Zac. There’d been the odd occasion they’d shared a meal, because when anyone had had as much exercise as they’d had together they’d got hungry and what had gone best with after-match lethargy had been great food. Ordered in from some of Auckland’s best restaurants, of course. The only way to go.

What she’d never seen in his eyes before was that concern that had shown when he’d moved her towards the elevator. Concern for her well-being, and then there had been the flower, the champagne—which had shown he’d remembered she only drank wine, and then usually this nectar. Yes, she pampered herself, but there was no one else to. Except her mother, and she got her fair share of being looked after.

Was it possible Zac had missed her an incy-wincy bit? She’d never ask. That would be like setting a match to petrol. Anyway, he’d never admit it, even if it came close to being true.

Hah, like you’d admit it either.

Zac prowled the small crowd pouring into the banquet room, and for the tenth time glanced at his watch. Six o’clock had been and gone twenty minutes ago and there was no sign of Olivia. So unlike her. If anything, she’d have been back down here, ready to get things cranking up, almost an hour before it was supposed to start.

‘Hey, Zac, good to see you.’ Paul Entwhistle stepped in front of him. ‘How have you been?’

‘Paul.’ Zac shook his old mentor’s hand. ‘I’m doing fine. What about you? Still creating merry hell down there at Waikato?’ The older man had taken over as director of the orthopaedic unit two years ago, citing family reasons for leaving the successful private practice he’d set up here in Auckland.

Paul gave him an easy smile. ‘I’ve semiretired to spend more time with the family. What about you? I couldn’t believe it when I heard you and Olivia had parted. Thought you’d never be able to untangle yourselves long enough to go in different directions.’