by C. Fonseca
Sign up for our newsletter to hear
about new and upcoming releases.
www.ylva-publishing.com
Table of Contents
Dedication
Acknowledgements
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
About C. Fonseca
Other Books from Ylva Publishing
Rewriting the Ending
Stowe Away
Collide-O-Scope
Times of Our Lives
Coming from Ylva Publishing
Welcome to the Wallops
Flinging It
Where the Light Plays
by C. Fonseca
Dedication
Jane. Thank you for all the countless hours you sacrificed so I could pursue my dream. With you beside me, my life is the perfect romance novel.
Acknowledgements
They say the road to a published novel is long and winding. Astrid Ohletz and the fantastic team at Ylva Publishing have made my journey so much easier. Astrid, thank you for your patience, nurturing, and support. Special thanks to my sensational editor, Jove Belle, aka superwoman; to project manager, Gill McKnight; and to my copy editor, CK King. I couldn’t have got here without you.
There are many people who helped me along the way with this book. My friends Marlies, Paula, Carole, Kathryn, Fiona, Meryl, and Deb—I am incredibly grateful for your feedback and encouragement. Paula, I remember fondly the time spent with your family. Their example of growing, cooking, and sharing nutritious and simple food was inspirational.
To my family—I love you all. Thanks for your good humour and gentle nudges when I needed it.
I extend my sincere gratitude to my online lesfic family—to Salem West and the Rainbow Reader for re-establishing my love of reading and writing after a ten-year absence from fiction. You started me on my journey; watch this space…
Also to L.T. Smith and RJ Samuel for their messages and friendship. Linda, thank you so much for taking the time in your busy life to read that very rough first draft.
Thank you, reader for taking a chance on me. I hope you have as much fun reading this novel as I had writing it.
To Jane and Pia, for all your love and cuddles, I am forever grateful. Jane, your perseverance and unflagging optimism during the countless read-throughs was phenomenal. You really do deserve that gold star.
I am fortunate to have a home on the beautiful southern coastline of Victoria, Australia. I live and breathe this landscape everyday; it keeps me sane and provided a perfect backdrop for my first novel.
CHAPTER 1
Andi Rey meandered along the windswept beach and inhaled the sharp, salty air as the boom of breaking waves echoed in her ears. A gentle breeze ruffled Andi’s dark-blonde hair and swept it into her eyes. She pushed it away instinctively. The tide was on its way out, exposing new treasures and leaving ripple patterns in its wake. Andi nudged her red Converse boot into the pale, golden sand to reveal tiny sparkling seashells. Plump balls of cottony-red seaweed blew across the water’s edge, and newly created blue-green rock pools glistened with washed orange and brown pebbles. Ripples and reflections. This was nature’s own magical canvas.
The beach was almost deserted, but Andi didn’t feel the loneliness she’d experienced while living in Melbourne. In the city, she’d felt suffocated, hemmed in by thousands of people. She lifted her face and listened to the roar of the incoming tide, inhaling the fresh, clear air. Inspired by wide-open spaces and the beauty of her surroundings by the ocean, she had the latitude and breathing space she required; anything was possible.
Seagulls glided and swooped over the wave tops, shrieking as they followed shoals of fish. She marvelled at the tube-shaped spinning clouds; their movement cast ghostly shadows along the towering ochre cliffs that skirted the beach. Located between Gull Rock and Rocky Point, where the creek enters the strait through undulating sand dunes, Hakea, Andi’s home, was renowned for its surf. The booming swells steeped over the shallow reefs and produced outstanding waves that dropped into the powerful Southern Ocean.
She picked up a smooth piece of sea-foam glass, rolled it through her fingers, and tucked it into her jacket pocket. As an artist working towards her first solo exhibition, she was experimenting with finely ground glass and sand mixed with acrylic paint. She used it to enhance the texture and increase the vibrancy of colours.
There were fewer tourists around than usual. The cooler-than-average temperatures and higher-than-average rainfall resulted in a slower start to spring and fewer visitors to Hakea.
A sudden gust of wind blew briny mist across the beach. Andi pulled the hood of her rain jacket around her damp hair and jogged towards the stairs.
As the rain started to fall in heavy droplets, she bounded up the wooden steps and reached the well-trodden path at the top of the cliff in record time. She dropped her hands to her knees and slowed her breathing. The rituals of running the steps, walking the beach, and surfing kept Andi healthy and connected to her surroundings. These activities provided structure to her otherwise free-flowing existence.
She jogged towards home along the shale track through lush ground layers of coastal grasses and wildflowers. Gold dust wattle trees dripped with clusters of bright-yellow balls, the abundant flowers that attracted flocks of yellow-tailed black cockatoo and crimson rosella to this coastal mosaic.
As she approached the popular wooden viewing platform that overlooked Gull Rock, she noticed a pair of shapely legs, clad in formfitting trousers, teetering unsteadily over the guardrail. She stared, wide eyed, momentarily mesmerised by the perplexing vision before her. It took far too long for Andi to register that the top half of the woman dangled over the cliff.
What the? The guardrail protected viewers from a ninety-metre drop onto the rocky foreshore and pounding waves. If she didn’t take immediate action, the woman could fall and be injured. Or worse.
She ran towards her and grabbed the woman’s calves firmly just above her two black leather ankle boots.
“Arrah…crikey, what the hell are you doing?” the woman yelled as Andi pulled her to safety. Andi didn’t release her until her feet rested safely on the wooden deck. Before she could respond, the woman continued her rant. “Get away with you. What on earth did you do that for?” the woman cried out, her singsong Irish accent mimicking the shriek of the silver gull circling above.
Andi stepped back, letting her hands fall to her sides. Why was this woman so angry with her? She wasn’t the one leaning over a safety rail trying to get herself killed. Was it too much to hope for a simple thank-you for saving this ridiculous woman’s life? She swallowed the heated words that threatened to escape from her mouth and looked directly into fiery, dark-blue eyes.
Andi averted her gaze when she realised she was still s
taring into the eyes of a stranger. The woman was elegantly dressed and wore plaid wool trousers, but who wears plaid wool trousers to the beach?
“I was this close.” The woman held up her hand centimetres from Andi’s face, her finger and thumb almost touching each other. “My lens cap… I nearly had it… I was this close!” she repeated. Her voice was lilting and sweet, almost lyrical despite her angry words. She drew her graceful body to full height and leaned towards Andi menacingly. She was tall, undeniably beautiful, and furious.
* * *
Before Caitlin Quinn had time to stop her, the woman discarded her rain jacket and tossed it casually onto the ground. In one sweeping movement, she launched herself effortlessly over the barrier with the agility of a deer and disappeared into the void. It was startling to witness, even though she knew there was a ledge on the other side of the railing where her lens cap lay.
Why the hell did she go and do that? It was just a silly lens cap. Okay, she did make a fuss about the situation but really didn’t expect the other woman to leap over the barrier after it. Caitlin wiped her hands on her trousers. Her clothes were wet and clung to her skin uncomfortably. She retrieved her camera from where she’d placed it under the bench on the platform, removed her jacket, and used the garment to protect it. Her white linen shirt soaked through in moments and was embarrassingly translucent. Tiny rivulets of water trickled along her neckline and down her back.
She moved towards the wooden handrail and sighed with relief when a hand came into view, clutching the lens cap. Caitlin blinked in disbelief as the woman swiftly leapt back over the barrier to land a few centimetres away from her.
Through the drizzle, a few persistent rays of sunlight hit the woman’s short, wavy, dark-blonde hair. She wore a sodden, red T-shirt that hugged her subtle curves. Her loose fitting cargo pants sat low enough on her hips to show a hint of tanned, smooth skin along her midriff. She stood three or four centimetres shorter than Caitlin and grinned triumphantly as she presented her with the lens cap.
Caitlin’s anger dissolved. It was impossible to hold on to it when standing face to face with this attractive woman and her irresistible smile. She allowed herself a moment to stare, and why wouldn’t she? Caitlin wouldn’t be alive if she didn’t notice her agile, graceful figure and natural beauty.
A sudden flash of lightning and a rumble of thunder caught Caitlin by surprise. She looked up at the threatening sky with alarm, before she accepted the runaway lens cap from the woman’s outstretched hand.
The woman stared at her. “You’re not exactly dressed for what’s coming. The rain will most likely get heavier.” She spoke confidently as she angled her head towards the sky laden with heavy clouds. “Maybe you should take your lens cap and get under cover ASAP…and I hope your camera kit is waterproof.”
Caitlin breathed a sigh of relief; she’d thought the woman was going to tell her to shove it.
Instead, she pulled her discarded raincoat over her wet clothes, dismissed Caitlin with a wave, and raced away along the pathway.
“Hey wait,” Caitlin called. “I didn’t thank you…What is your name?”
Rain pelted down on her; the huge drops forced Caitlin to clutch the camera gear and run to her car.
“I’m Andi. And you’re welcome,” she yelled from a distance.
“Thank you, Andi,” she replied, but Andi was already gone. Caitlin hit the key fob, hastily opened the door, and fell into the plush leather seat of the BMW Roadster.
She grabbed a towel from the back seat and quickly wrapped it around her wet, tangled hair. She pulled the cold, drenched shirt away from her body as she turned the ignition and brought the engine to life with a low-pitched purr. She revved the car and pulled out onto the side road.
Her stereo came to life in the middle of London Grammar’s latest release, and Caitlin hummed along with the smoky voice of the lead vocalist. The weather had caught her by surprise, and she hoped the rain wouldn’t spoil her entire weekend. On the positive side, the woman, Andi, was just as unexpected but also thoroughly appealing.
* * *
Five minutes later, Caitlin slipped her Roadster into the garage, gathered her belongings from the rear seat, and walked towards the house as the timber garage door automatically closed behind her.
Her clothes were saturated and unpleasantly clammy in places. She needed a hot shower and a cold drink. Or should that be the other way around?
The encounter on the viewing platform was still on her mind. Andi had delivered the weather report as though she was a local. She was cute in her delivery, cheeky, and possibly excitable.
A shower would relax Caitlin’s muscles, help her escape a fleeting dash of loneliness, and chase away the memory of those chocolate-brown eyes that flashed in sheer exasperation.
Caitlin was accustomed to rain. Spring on the Victorian coast was milder than at home in Cork. South-West Ireland experienced plenty of rain, averaging one hundred and fifty days annually—and there was the fog. She pictured the way the fog, moody and romantic, would lift over a patch of woodland as she crossed the River Lee and made her way from her apartment to the arts campus of University College. Caitlin grew nostalgic for her parents’ house, situated near the dramatic and picturesque university grounds where it overlooked the river. Patrick, her English professor father, loved to quote Jerome K. Jerome, and he often did.
“But who wants to be foretold the weather? It is bad enough when it comes, without our having the misery of knowing about it beforehand.”
Caitlin thought it wise to reserve her judgment on the mildness of this coastal climate. After all, she had yet to experience an Australian summer and all of this region’s other weather extremes. She wasn’t looking forward to facing the peak of the summer heat.
She climbed the stairs, unlocked the door, and punched in the alarm code as she stepped inside. Her eyes were drawn towards the floor-to-ceiling windows that enhanced the remarkable view from the cliff-top house. From this elevation, it was impossible not to notice the stunning outlook. No matter how many times she saw it, the rolling dunes and sweeping expanse of ocean took her breath away.
She kicked off her boots and peeled away her rain-soaked clothes as she walked into the luxury, ground floor bathroom.
Caitlin made it a point to exercise regularly. She ran at least three times a week and practiced yoga daily. She looked forward to running along the beach to improve her stride and was adamant about taking advantage of the pure sea air whenever she spent time at her grandaunt’s house. Her grandaunt Isabella had named the property Kinsale, after her birthplace in Ireland.
Next April, Caitlin would be thirty-nine years old. Not quite forty, but not far off it. Thanks to a combination of exercise, a healthy diet, and good genes, she was in fine shape. Caitlin intended to stay that way.
The cascading double shower, built to cantilever over the cliff edge, was the perfect place to indulge herself. The 180-degree view was spectacular and one of her favourite features of the house.
Caitlin stood under the massaging jets, and the water soothed her restless spirit. She thought about Andi and grinned. Andi? Bambi? She’s certainly as nimble and light footed as a deer. Caitlin hoped she wasn’t offended by her outburst, because if she were a local, it would be nice to see her again. The way Andi stared at her with those passionate eyes made Caitlin wonder if she had a hot-blooded temperament to match. She’s attractive and fiery. Definitely cute.
It was dinnertime when Caitlin finished her shower and pulled on her favourite pair of faded jeans and a sage-green, ribbed T-shirt. The sea air always made her hungry. A glass of red usually went down nicely too.
On her way from Melbourne to the coast, she’d abandoned the idea of buying fresh fruit and vegetables at the Queen Victoria Market, trying to avoid the heavy afternoon traffic. Shopping for provisions would have to wait until tomorrow. It was her fourth visit to Kinsale, and she looked forward to preparing simple meals from the fresh seafood and locally grown pr
oduce. But not tonight. Tonight, she was weary from her hectic week and the two-hour drive from Melbourne. Birdie’s, the only café in Hakea, would provide a light meal, a glass of Pinot, and the possibility of some local distraction.
* * *
The sound of clinking glasses and laughter greeted Caitlin as she stepped into the café. She waved to the chef, Birdie, who dispensed drinks from behind the main bar. Birdie waved back and nodded in welcome as Caitlin made her way to one of the small tables by the window.
“I’ll have a glass of Jack Rabbit pinot noir, the salmon with roasted fennel, and a spinach salad, please.” Caitlin thanked the server as he moved away. She scanned the room, drawn towards the chatter coming from a group standing at the bar.
Andi?
There she was, the woman Caitlin had met earlier. She leaned against the bar with her thumbs casually tucked in the loops of her black cargo pants. As if she sensed Caitlin’s presence, she turned. Their gazes met across the room, and Andi grinned shyly in recognition. She lowered her eyes, absent-mindedly pushing a lock of hair from her face.
Caitlin watched as Birdie handed Andi a glass of red wine and a schooner of pale ale.
“Two glasses? Who’s the wine for, Birdie?” Andi asked.
Birdie replied, “Would you be a darling and deliver the wine to the table by the window?”
Andi took a quick gulp of the amber ale before she strode across the room. As she looked directly at Caitlin, she fumbled and nearly spilled the wine.
That was a close call. Luckily it didn’t land in her lap. Caitlin was relieved she wasn’t wearing the wine, but she enjoyed the flush that crept across Andi’s face.
Andi placed the glass down gently and stood at the table. Her hand trembled as she circled the icy rim of the beer glass with her index finger. Caitlin wondered if she was making Andi nervous.
“Hi.”
“Hello again, and thank you. It is Andi, isn’t it? I’m Caitlin.” She casually picked up her wine glass, lifted it to her lips, and let her gaze roam over Andi’s body. “I didn’t expect to see you again so soon. Do you work here?”
