A brand-new Bunyip Bay novel from bestselling Australian romance author Rachael Johns
They spent one magical night together, but when he woke up she was gone …
Eight years later, Gabriela Jimenez is hoping a couple of weeks in Bunyip Bay with the Grand Jimenez Family Circus will give her and Luna, her daughter, the chance to reconnect after the tragic death of Luna’s father. The last thing Gabi expects is to run into the man she once knew. Mark Morgan is still as sweet and sexy as she remembers, but Gabi is harbouring guilt and dealing with the grief of her in-laws. She can’t afford to let him get under her skin again.
After his successful career in AFL was cut short due to a crushing injury, Mark is struggling to readjust to small-town life and working the family farm. As if this isn’t bad enough, his wife’s betrayal means he may never be able to risk his heart to love again. Mark couldn’t be less interested in the circus that has arrived in town … until he discovers that the woman who vanished from his bed all those years ago without saying goodbye is part of it.
Will a chance meeting lead to something more?
Prologue
Sometimes Gabi Howard felt like she was living her own personal Groundhog Day. Such was the life of circus folk, and as a performer in the Grand Jimenez Family Circus it was all she’d ever known. Day after day, night after night, week after week she trained hard, worked hard, glammed up and performed the same acts over and over again.
Was it any surprise she occasionally felt a desire for more? An itch somewhere deep inside her to get out and see the world outside this bubble?
What would her life be like if she hadn’t grown up under the wing of the Jimenez family? Who would she be? What would she do? And what would it feel like to stay in one place, to have a home where you could put down roots? The caravan she’d shared with her boyfriend, Dante, for the last couple of years was comfortable, but too small for more than the bare necessities. Besides, they moved towns every couple of weeks—sometimes even more frequently—and too many things would take too long to pack up. For this reason, they didn’t accumulate ‘stuff’, which was what Dante called anything he didn’t deem necessary. Sadly, that included her favourite novels.
You’re just tired.
Usually, it was only on the exhaustingly long days that she felt like this. Days where they’d begun pull-down right after a matinee show, had hardly any sleep and then woken early to travel to the next town where they’d immediately start the build—two more days of hard yakka.
Today was their final build day—the Big Top, lighting tresses, seating, ring area, curtains, Globe of Death and Wheel of Steel were up—and tomorrow would be a full-on day of rehearsals before their first show that night.
Melbourne. Bright lights. The big smoke.
Everyone was buggered, so most of the circus had retreated to their trailers and caravans for an early night, but Gabi felt restless. Dante was already snoring when she emerged from their tiny bathroom, his arm muscles bunching as he hugged a pillow to his chest. He slept like the dead, but she knew the moment she climbed into bed, he’d sleepily discard the pillow and pull her into his arms, unconsciously spooning her body against his. Tonight, instead of changing into her PJs, she pulled on her black puffer jacket over her leggings and baggy jumper, slipped her feet back into her work boots and snuck out the door.
Loud Mouth, Dante’s prized rainbow lorikeet, looked over from his perch in his night cage just outside their caravan.
‘Midnight runner!’ he screeched. ‘Midnight runner! Midnight runner!’
Gabi winced as she pushed a finger to her lips. ‘Shh,’ she hissed. ‘I’ll be back soon.’
In a clear strop at missing out on an adventure, Loud Mouth turned his back on her and buried his red beak beneath his bright green wing. Such a drama queen.
She chuckled silently as she walked quickly through the lot towards the exit, the lights of the city glittering in the distance.
Although it wasn’t late, the only sounds came from the show dogs scuffling about in their pen and some moans and groans from the company accommodation—two long trailers divided into bunk rooms. These trailers housed everyone who didn’t have their own vans, from tent boys, sound and light technicians to ‘circus tourists’—performers and other employees who worked with the circus for a while and then moved on. Gabi herself had spent a few years of her teens sleeping in one of those bunks and she knew there was even less privacy in those trailers than the rest of the circus. No wonder everyone here knew everyone else’s business.
The temporary gates creaked a little as she pushed them open and she stilled a moment, waiting to see if a caravan door would open for a security check, but when none did, she slipped victoriously out. It wasn’t like she was a prisoner here or planning on doing a midnight runner, like many in the industry did when they wanted out, but she still felt a little bit sneaky. Circus folk tended to stick to themselves, and Dante and his family would be worried about what might happen to her late at night, walking the streets of Gladstone Park where they were currently camped.
But she’d like to see anyone try anything. Years of training as an aerial performer, not to mention the physical work and heavy lifting involved in other aspects of circus life, meant she was stronger than most men and could easily hold her own if anyone did anything untoward.
She’d only planned on going for a short walk—hoping the fresh air would shake the itchiness from her head enough that she could sleep—but she soon found herself passing a pub and, like the music of the Pied Piper luring the children away from the safety of their parents, the sound of tunes and laughter drifting from inside piqued her interest. She hadn’t ever been in a bar, restaurant or club on her own. At just over nineteen, she’d only been legal a year, and the few times she had gone for a meal or a drink it had usually been with Dante and his parents or other circus performers.
Just one drink, Gabi told herself as she stepped across the threshold. Inside was more modern than she’d expected, with funky bronze lamps dropping from the ceiling and the bar a pearly white with a pattern that reminded her of a waffle cone. There weren’t many people here, but that was fine. She wasn’t here to socialise; she simply wanted a little time-out.
An elderly barman with curly grey hair and a scar on his lip gave her a warm smile as she approached the bar and perched herself atop a stool. ‘What can I get ya, love?’
‘Um . . .’ Not a big drinker, Gabi stared at the rows of bottles behind the bar. ‘What do you recommend?’
‘That depends on why you’re drinking. Let me guess. Heartbreak? Celebration?’
She shrugged. ‘I’m exhausted but can’t switch my mind off.’
‘Ah, right. Well then, I recommend a Brady’s Milk Punch. That’ll have you catching zeds in no time.’
Gabi had no idea what that was. ‘Sounds good. Thanks.’
‘Hate to ask, but can you show me your ID? Not that I don’t trust you, but the fines are killers if you serve anyone underage.’
She flashed her driver’s licence at him.
‘Long way from home,’ said the old man, clocking the rural South Australian address. ‘What brings you to our parts?’
‘Work,’ she said, deliberately not specific as she didn’t want the questions that would inevitably come if she told him she belonged to a circus. South Australia was where the family stored old equipment and lived during their one month off per year.
He nodded and began to mix a white concoction in a shaker. He poured the creamy cocktail over ice and was sprinkling something that looked like cinnamon over the top when a shadow fell over her.
‘Be with you in a moment,’ said the barman, barely looking up from his handiwork.
‘No rush. Just wanted to pay for my dinner,’ replied a deep voice belonging to the shadow. ‘Evening.’
It took Gabi a second to realise this last word had been addressed to her. She opened her mouth to say ‘Hi’, but the word died on her tongue as she turned and came face to face with his piercing blue eyes. No; blue was too dull a word to describe all the shades and flecks of colour she saw. Perhaps crystal or electric blue was more apt.
Crystal Eyes smiled. ‘You here on your own?’
This might have sounded creepy, but she was too bamboozled by the mystical colour of his eyes to do anything but nod.
The bartender placed her cocktail down in front of her. ‘Here ya are, love.’
Gabi dug into her jacket pocket to retrieve a twenty-dollar note she’d shoved there a couple of nights ago when someone had bought fairy floss—she hadn’t had time to put it in the till before heading back to the Big Top to perform.
‘It’s on me.’ Crystal Eyes pressed his card against the EFTPOS machine before she could hand over the money. ‘And I’ll have another mid-strength, please.’
‘You didn’t have to do that,’ she blurted. ‘I can pay for myself.’ He smiled. ‘I’m sure you can. Don’t worry, I’m not expecting anything in return.’
She forced a laugh as she lifted the drink to her mouth. ‘I should hope not.’ It tasted delicious. ‘But just in case . . . I’m paying for your beer.’
The barman chuckled as he put a frothy pint in front of the guy and Gabriela thrust the twenty-dollar bill at him.
‘Thanks.’ Crystal Eyes smirked, lifted his glass to clink against hers and then offered her his free hand. ‘I’m Mark. Pleased to meet you.’
For a few seconds, all she could do was stare. She guessed he was about the same age as her although the dimple on his right cheek gave him a boyish expression. In addition to those eyes, he had lovely, tanned skin, thick hair the colour of brown sugar that curled a little at the ends and a smile that caused her breath to catch in her throat. He was taller than her, taller even than Dante, and had broad shoulders, a muscly chest and arms that his t-shirt did nothing to hide.
‘And you are?’ His hand still hovered awkwardly between them.
‘Sorry.’ Her cheeks burning, she shoved her hand into his and gripped, totally flustered by her reaction to this man. She couldn’t blame the alcohol because she’d only had one sip, and it wasn’t like she was a stranger to hot guys. Dante was very good looking and had an amazing body—most circus folk did—but there was just something about this man. ‘I’m . . . Gabriela.’
The unforgettable, hotly anticipated return to Bunyip Bay from bestselling Australian romance author Rachael Johns.