Short and Sweet

by Anna Jacobs

  When they stopped kissing, they stood close together and let the silence wrap them round. At last she pulled away and he made no move to hold her back. ‘I – wasn’t expecting that,’ she said shakily.

  ‘Nor I.’ His voice was quiet and his smile gentle. ‘I didn’t mean to take advantage of you being upset, but I must admit I was attracted to you the first time I saw you.’ He picked up the tea towel and held the ice against his cheek, but his eyes, his beautiful eyes, didn’t leave her face for a second.

  She was relieved when the timer pinged. ‘There!’ She managed a more normal tone. ‘The meal’s nearly ready, if you’d like to come through into the dining room, Mr Gregory.’

  ‘Daniel, surely, after that kiss.’ He eyed the table, set for one. ‘Aren’t you eating with me?’

  ‘Well, I–I . . .’

  ‘Please join me, Tacie. Can’t we forget business for tonight and just enjoy each other’s company?’

  She stood there, as embarrassed as a teenager on her first date. She was afraid to appear to be encouraging more intimacy, and she didn’t want to upset the man who might decide her future. But most of all, she was afraid of missing the opportunity to get to know him better, afraid of never kissing him again. Oh, she was a fool!

  ‘Whatever is going on between us has no connection with business and I don’t expect you to fall into my bed to get that mortgage.’ His gaze was warm, understanding.

  She took a deep breath. ‘Well – I don’t usually eat with guests, but – all right. For you I’ll make an exception.’

  After the meal, they lingered at the table, sipping her best cooking port in a companionable silence as they watched the moon rise over the lake. The long enclosed veranda was shadowed, apart from their small oasis, and when he went to switch the light off, she made no protest. She often sat here in the dark in the evenings, enjoying the reflection of the moon in the water.

  At his prompting, she told him how she and Richard had set up this small tourist development when her grandfather left her the farm, and how much, how very much she loved living here.

  He was, he explained in return, between jobs but financially independent, so was only taking on short-term projects until he could see his way clear.

  ‘This place is incredibly beautiful,’ he said after a while. ‘Have you ever thought of expanding it into a large-scale operation?’

  ‘No. I’ve got as much on my plate as I can manage. And, as must be obvious, I don’t have the capital.’

  The talk drifted on to travel and the places he’d seen.

  ‘I’d love to travel. I’ve never been further than Sydney.’

  ‘You can get tired of living out of suitcases, however exotic the location.’

  They even found that they shared similar tastes in books and music. In fact, it was a long time since she’d enjoyed a man’s company this much. Since her marriage broke up, she hadn’t even wanted to date, and anyway, she’d been too busy.

  When Daniel left her for the night, he squeezed her shoulder. ‘You will lock up carefully, Tacie?’

  She didn’t allow herself to lean towards him. ‘Yes. And, um – just come up to the house for breakfast tomorrow whenever you want.’

  As she cleared up, she told herself she was glad he hadn’t kissed her again, but deep down she knew that was a lie.

  In the morning she had everything ready by seven o’clock, but he didn’t turn up for breakfast until nine. By that time she was very much on edge, not knowing whether he was now regretting their evening together.

  ‘Am I too late for breakfast?’

  She was furious with herself for blushing. ‘Of course not. What would you like? Cereal? Bacon and eggs? Toast?’

  ‘Sounds wonderful. I haven’t been this hungry for ages. Must be the country air.’

  ‘I saw you walking round the lake.’

  ‘Yes. I couldn’t resist it.’

  When he’d eaten, he brought his dishes into the kitchen.

  ‘I don’t expect guests to clear away.’

  ‘No trouble. Look, are you busy today, Tacie?’

  ‘Um—’

  ‘Would you have time to show me round your property?’

  ‘Well—’

  ‘I need to get an insight into its potential, for the bank. Your brochure talks about bush walks.’

  ‘They’re all clearly signposted.’ She wasn’t going to throw herself at him!

  ‘I’m sure they are, but it’s always nicer when you have someone to talk to. Please?’

  She looked across into his smiling eyes and was lost.

  She put up a sign saying ‘Back in an hour’, in case someone came looking for accommodation, and took him along her favourite walks, showing him the tracks of kangaroos and emus, laughing with him at the shrieking squabbles of the cockatoos, and stopping to admire the wild flowers, which were just beginning to bloom. It was one of those early spring days, when the sun lit the world delicately, without its summer harshness, and she was proud that her little kingdom was showing to its best advantage.

  ‘It’s a far cry from London and Melbourne,’ he said at last.

  ‘Yes, I suppose it is.’

  ‘I hadn’t realized how attractive the West Australian bush can be.’ His eyes were on her as he spoke, though, not the scenery.

  He helped her over a fallen log, which she could perfectly well have jumped over herself, and she let him, just as she let him keep hold of her hand afterwards.

  ‘May I kiss you again?’ he asked abruptly, just as she had convinced herself that nothing was going to happen today.

  She didn’t know what to say and he smiled. ‘That was silly of me, wasn’t it, Tacie? I should just have taken hold of your shoulders – like this – swung you round to face me – like this – and raised your chin – like this.’

  The kiss went on for so long that she panicked and tried to push away from him, but he kept his arms firmly round her.

  ‘Tacie Johnson, you’re delicious! How can you do this to me when we’ve only just met?’

  ‘Hey!’ Her voice was shaky. ‘That was my line. It’s you who’s doing it to me!’

  His eyes glinted at her in the filtered sunlight beneath the trees. ‘Let’s agree that we do it to each other, then. Will you dine out somewhere with me tonight?’

  ‘I’d rather dine here.’ She was finding it hard to breathe evenly with him so close. ‘There’s only the hotel in town, and you’ve already tried that.’

  He grimaced. ‘Point made. I’ll buy us some good champagne, then.’

  She gave a sudden gurgle of laughter. ‘Not in Marybrook, you won’t!’

  ‘I have to drive into Bunbury this afternoon, on business. I’m sure I’ll find a liquor store there.’

  They walked back hand in hand, then at the house she pulled away, suddenly nervous.

  ‘It’s all right,’ he said softly. ‘I shan’t try to push you into anything.’

  What did he mean by that? she wondered, as she watched his car pull away.

  The place felt empty without him. It was ridiculous. They’d only just met.

  She attacked the housework like a madwoman to keep her mind off him. It didn’t work.

  Later, she went to his cabin to take clean towels and clear up. She’d just straightened the corner of his bed, when she noticed a piece of paper on the floor. As she bent to retrieve it, her own name leaped out at her.

  She couldn’t resist reading it and what she saw made her sparkling new happiness turn to bitter ashes, and tears well in her eyes.

  Daniel didn’t return until six thirty, by which time Tacie had calmed down enough to prepare a meal and set a table for two. You’re going to deal with this in a very mature, businesslike manner, she had told herself. No losing your temper, my girl. Cool disdain. That’s what you’ll radiate as you tell him you know what his little game is.

  She was grateful that no one else had turned up wanting accommodation, grateful when Daniel only returned in time to put the
champagne in the fridge and greet her briefly, before he went to his cabin to change out of his dark suit.

  She forced herself to chat calmly to him as they ate their starters of locally raised yabbies and rice salad.

  ‘I’ve never eaten these before,’ he said. ‘They’re better than crayfish, sweeter.’

  ‘They’re a regional speciality. Farmers are starting to breed them commercially in their dams.’ Anger rose suddenly in her that he could pretend to be so open and friendly. If we were standing near a dam at this moment, she thought, I’d push you in, you liar!

  ‘You’re very quiet,’ he said, as they went on to the tender local beef, pot-roasted with fresh herbs. ‘Is something wrong, Tacie?’

  ‘I’m a little – er – on edge. You haven’t given me any clues about how the bank has reacted to my request.’

  ‘Do we have to talk business tonight? I’m not on duty twenty-four hours a day, you know.’

  Oh, aren’t you! she thought, and jerked out of her seat to take away their dirty plates before she gave herself away.

  It was when she was carrying the desserts in that he said, ‘Will you let me stay and get to know you better, Tacie darling?’ And gave her a loving look as he said it!

  That was the final straw. ‘You cheating, scheming worm!’ she yelled, and tipped the bowl of fruit salad over the top of his head. She turned to flee, tears rolling down her face.

  Before she could reach the door, he had caught her, his fingers digging hard into her shoulders.

  ‘Let me go, you . . . you rotten, sneaking . . .’

  He swung her round to pin her against the wall. ‘I haven’t the faintest idea what’s upset you, you stupid wild-woman! Just calm down for a moment and tell me!’

  She struggled against him and was horrified when the anger faded from his face, to be replaced by something else, and she felt herself soften against him.

  ‘Whatever it is that’s upset you, you’re wrong to think I’d cheat you,’ he growled. ‘But before we discuss it, you’re going to help me clean this mess out of my hair.’

  She glared at him and pulled away, but he kept hold of her arm and dragged her into the kitchen. As they passed the serving bench, she had visions of pouring the jug of iced water over him, of emptying the bowl of cream over him, of . . .

  ‘Don’t even think about it!’ he snarled, before releasing her near the sink.

  For a moment, anger flickered hotly within her, then she pressed her lips together and grabbed a clean tea towel. I’ve blown it now, she thought, beginning to calm down. How could I have been so stupid! When will I ever learn to control my temper?

  He stood quietly as she dampened the towel and tried to clean his hair and face, but she could see that he was still angry. Well, so was she!

  When she’d finished, she tried to move away, but he caught her shoulders again, shaking her slightly. ‘I thought we were getting on well, really well. What happened today, Tacie?’

  ‘You were just using me, you – you unscrupulous, conniving mole!’

  ‘Why on earth should you think that?’

  Her hands felt sticky as she clenched them into fists. ‘When I cleaned your room today, I saw a letter—’ She saw his eyes narrow and shouted, ‘It was on the floor – I wasn’t prying!’ She sniffed away a tear.

  ‘Go on!’

  ‘It was from Richard – to you – describing me and my h–home. Suggesting how to approach me.’ Tears welled in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. It was all too much. From anxiety to love to betrayal in two short days. She blinked in shock. Love! She didn’t love him! And he certainly didn’t love her!

  He closed his eyes for a moment. ‘Aaah!’ Then he opened them again and said more gently, ‘Come and sit down, you crazy redhead. We need to talk.’

  But he kept hold of her arm still, and his touch stopped her thinking clearly.

  ‘Let go of me, then.’

  ‘Not till this is sorted out.’ He grinned. ‘I might not be safe. You might have more fruit salad in the fridge.’

  She nearly smiled, but held back in time. People like him didn’t deserve to be safe.

  On the couch, he took both her hands in his. ‘Tacie, I’m not here on your ex-husband’s behalf. I’m here purely as a representative of the bank. But,’ a wry smile crept across his face, ‘I am here under false pretences.’

  Pain lanced through her and her hands jerked in his.

  ‘The bank only asked me to have a quick look over your property on my way to Bunbury, not to stay and do a thorough analysis.’

  ‘But that letter said—’

  ‘The letter from your ex-husband came out of the blue just before I left Perth. How he found out about my visit, I don’t know. I certainly haven’t replied to the letter, nor have I agreed to help him and his backers to acquire this property. I don’t operate that way, Tacie.’

  He sounded sincere. She looked at him through a haze of tears.

  He brushed one wet trail away from her cheek with a fingertip. ‘It’s the truth, Tacie!’

  She sagged against him. ‘But Daniel, I—’

  ‘I’m coming off duty this very second,’ he breathed in her ear, his hands molding her body to his. ‘I’m sticky, I smell of that damned fruit salad, but I’m about to kiss you until you beg for mercy. Then we’re going to discuss our future plans. You have a dreadful temper, woman, but I’m afraid I’ve fallen in love with you.’

  ‘What?’ It came out as a whisper, but she could feel happiness surge through her.

  He smiled and nuzzled her neck. ‘When I go back on duty tomorrow, Tacie, I’ll go over your accounts, but I expect to present an extremely favourable report on you to the bank.’ He feathered a series of kisses along her eyelids and down her cheek to her lips. ‘Even without feeling this way about you.’

  She gasped aloud as she clung to him.

  ‘Though you won’t need the mortgage now, will you, with a rich backer of your own?’ He nipped delicately at the lobe of her ear.

  ‘A rich backer?’ She was finding it increasingly hard to concentrate.

  ‘Yes. Me.’

  ‘But – why would a man like you—’

  His eyes gleamed in the moonlight. ‘I’m absolutely crazy about fruit salad – however it’s served.’

  A long time later, she murmured in his ear, as she brushed a sticky strand of hair from his forehead. ‘I think I’m going off fruit salad, personally. If you’ll come along to my bathroom, Daniel Gregory, I’ll help you to wash the fruit juice off.’

  A Summer Romance

  Anna’s Notes

  This story is based on how a lot of people I’ve met have started trying to write novels. They read a bad book and feel sure they can do better. And some of them can. Even if they can’t, it doesn’t matter, because it’s such fun trying.

  People don’t feel intimidated by the thought of writing a shorter book, a modern romance, so it’s what a lot of people start with. I was one of them. I tried to write Mills & Boon romances and soon found it wasn’t at all my cup of tea. It’s a lot harder than it looks and I put in too many characters and my stories are too long. I learned a lot trying, though, which I carried over to other sorts of books I’ve had published.

  You learn a lot from writing just by doing it, so I’d encourage anyone to have a try. After all, you don’t have to show your work to anyone unless you want to. But be warned: writing/storytelling is addictive. I confess to being totally addicted. Keep me from writing for a few days and I become a grouch.

  Like my heroine, I’ve been to quite a few romance writers’ conferences and they’re great fun, with very friendly people who welcome newcomers. It was at one of them that I got the original idea for this story.

  This is a fairy tale, really – but well, sometimes fantasies do come true.

  Katie closed the novel with a sigh of sheer delight. There was nothing she enjoyed as much as a good romance. The heroines always led such interesting lives, nothing like hers
. Since her mother’s death last year, it was just work, TV and reading – spiced up with a good bit of daydreaming.

  The next day on the way home from the office, she picked up a romance novel from the supermarket, her favourite form of reading. But the new book was so awful, she tossed it aside after a couple of chapters. ‘I could do better than that myself!’ she muttered.

  There was nothing interesting on TV that night, either. She felt cheated, and found herself imagining ways to improve the romance she had tossed aside. This led to another dream, of a man – and he didn’t have to be tall, dark and handsome – coming into the office, paying his account, smiling at her. She sighed. Dream on, Katie! You’re thirty-eight, unmarried and past your prime. Who’s going to fall in love with you now?

  If she hadn’t been so shy, maybe she might have tried Internet introduction sites or speed dating. But the one time she’d gone to a singles gathering, she’d left early because one of the men, who must have been at least sixty and wore his hair in a comb-over, kept pestering her. She wasn’t that desperate.

  On an impulse, she got out her pad and began to scribble down her own ideas, telling the story as she wished it would happen. It was such fun designing her own romance and a hero so luscious he made her toes curl that she was startled to realize it was eleven o’clock. Where had the evening gone?

  After that, things fell into place as if they were meant to be. She found a book on line called, How to Write a Romance. That helped a lot. She hadn’t realized there was so much to it.

  The evenings had never passed so quickly. She simply had to finish telling her story. Something seemed to be driving her.

  She no longer watched much television or read as many novels. But she enjoyed a whole range of wonderful dreams, each about the same dark-haired hero. Every day she longed for evening to come, so that she could get home and follow the adventures of Brett and the lovely Helen.