The Billionaire from Her Past by Leah Ashton

objective Seb, capable of simply admiring the attractiveness of his friend without it meaning anything more, and then they’d shaken hands...
    How stupid that such a G-rated touch had robbed him of his ability to think. For long moments, Seb hadn’t been able to grasp at even one reason why he and Mila couldn’t be much, much more than friends.
    Fortunately he’d come to his senses, and Mila had seemed utterly unaware. But Seb had made sure there’d been no handshake at the end of their match the following week, though—just to be safe.
    And now here they were, on a postcard-perfect beach, surrounded by the scents of falafel and satay and pizza. Mila was a few steps ahead, scouting out their dinner options. It was exactly what he wanted—the easy, comfortable, reliable friendship of his past.
    Because he’d realised, when faced with losing Mila, that she was the only constant in his now topsy-turvy life. Everything had changed, Everything was no longer how it was meant to be. His friendships—in London and at Fyfe Technology—had drifted, and floated away, not strong enough to sustain his international relocation. He didn’t mind—he’d eventually make new friends, find new mates to go cycling with, to invite over for a beer. But he wasn’t ready for that yet. He wasn’t ready to share his history with just anyone, or to invite others into this new and uncertain phase of his life.
    Mila already knew him. Not the details of the past few years—and certainly not the mess of his marriage—but she did know him . He didn’t have to explain himself to her. He didn’t have to be anyone else for her. He just got to be with her.
    Except when he was derailed by this continued, unwanted attraction.
    But he could handle it. Surely it would pass with time.
    Mila pointed at a tent to their right, then looked back at Seb over her shoulder. She wore a pale blue summer dress, her shoulders golden in the setting sun.
    â€˜Oh, look— crêpes!’
    They ended up completing a full lap of all the food options before spotting a park bench, shaded by the outstretched boughs of a Norfolk pine, which they promptly claimed. In order to sample most of the food up for offer, they’d agreed to share—with one of them heading out for food while the other saved the seat.
    Seb set out, returning with a shredded beef burger, topped with a shiny brioche bun. Mila finished her half first, and headed back out into the crowd for their second course.
    The sun continued its gradual fall into the ocean, where two container ships interrupted the perfect line of the horizon. As Seb sat there, wiping barbecue sauce from his fingers with a napkin, he felt for the first time as if...
    â€˜Is this seat taken?’
    Seb looked up at the sound of a soft, very female voice. The woman was short, blonde, and very pretty, with long tumbling hair and warm brown eyes.
    Unthinkingly, he ran his thumb over the place where his wedding band had once been—but of course it wasn’t there.
    â€˜Oh,’ he said, wondering if he was jumping to conclusions. Maybe she genuinely just needed somewhere to sit?
    â€˜Seb?’
    It was Mila, cradling a neatly closed white cardboard box and a tray with two forks stabbed into a mound of paella.
    â€˜Oh!’ the blonde woman said. ‘I’m so sorry. I thought—’ She was blushing, her gaze darting to her feet. ‘Have a lovely day!’
    Then she was gone.
    â€˜Who was that?’ Mila asked, settling onto the bench. She put the box down beside her—away from Seb. ‘Dessert,’ she said with a grin. ‘It’s a surprise.’
    Then she carefully served out the paella into the second tray that had been hiding beneath the first.
    â€˜I have no idea,’ Seb said, and then had his first mouthful of paella—all spicy and delicious.
    â€˜So she was hitting on you?’
    Seb coughed, a piece of