by Fiona Lowe
Her palm dug into the sand and then she raised her hand, letting the tiny particles run through her fingers as her mind released her memories. ‘My father was a charming but controlling man and he dropped in and out of my life. My mother finally left him when I was ten but the legacy of him never left us.’
A restrained kind of tension lined Leo’s shoulders but his expression was one of sympathy duelling with interest. ‘How much of it do you remember?’
She stared straight ahead. ‘I remember the fear. I remember the routine my mother had before he came home every night, a sort of ritual. She believed if she followed it to the letter it would mean the evening would be pleasant. She’d make dinner and I’d set the table. Then she’d go to her room, reapply her make-up, change into a pretty dress and insist on brushing my hair. After that we’d wait.’
‘Wait for what?’ Two lines furrowed down at the bridge of his nose.
We have to look pretty for Daddy so he loves us. She tugged at her now short hair as the memory of the plastic brush snagging through her long hair made her scalp prickle. ‘We’d wait for my father. On a good night he’d barrel through the door, twirl me around and call me his princess. He’d compliment my mother’s cooking and after dinner he’d crank up the music, grab my mother around her waist and they’d dance through the house.’
‘And on a bad night?’ Leo’s hand spilled sand close to hers.
She glanced at him, expecting to see the prying look that people got when they heard a story so at odds with their preconceived ideas of who she was and where she’d come from, but the only thing she saw was understanding. ‘A storm cloud would enter the house and we’d be on high alert cyclone watch, just like Port Headland was last week. Will it hit or will it blow past and miss us? It was terrifying even when he didn’t hit us because the fear was always there.’
‘I can’t even imagine what that would be like.’ He spoke quietly. ‘We’re Italian and, believe me, my parents can yell and argue with the best of them, but there was never any fear in the house.’ His eyes lit up with a memory. ‘Usually Anna did something crazy which distracted them and it blew over very quickly. Did you have a brother or sister to share this with?’
She shook her head. ‘Just me.’
‘Sorry.’ His fingers skated across the back of her hand in the lightest caress before falling back to the sand.
Heat roared through her and self-loathing filled her. His touch was one of understanding and friendship. Only she could put a sexual tinge on it and, heaven help her, hadn’t she learned anything from her life? From Greg? She blew out a breath and fixed her gaze on the peeling bark of a tree on the opposite bank and forced the words to keep coming.
‘One night he hit Mum so badly he fractured her ribs. The next day when I was at school a taxi arrived with Mum in it. She’d packed one bag for the both of us and we went into supported accommodation.’
Her eyes burned from staring at the tree but she didn’t dare look at Leo. She didn’t want to see pity in his eyes—she’d seen that too often over the years from too many people, which was why she kept her story buried deep.
‘And you took care of your mother. Just like Alec was doing today.’
She gave a silent nod, letting his deep voice wash over her with its startling insight. She turned towards him, suddenly needing to see his face. Not a trace of pity marked his cheeks, only admiration and respect. He gets it. The realisation jolted her and Warrior Abbie laid down her shield, although her fingers stayed close to it. The tightness in her chest slowly slackened and an unexpected peace rolled through her, seeping into places that hadn’t experienced calm in a long time. Yet again, Abbie had just glimpsed another side to Leo Costa. He confused her so much with his multi-facets, making her question what she believed, but most of all it made her wonder why was he hiding behind all that superficial charm when there was so much more to him.
‘So did things settle down for you and your mother?’
She shrugged. ‘Not really. We got out of the refuge and got set up again. Mum got a job and had a few boyfriends who always seemed to arrive with presents and leave us with debt. I craved stability but, by sixteen, I realised Mum wasn’t able to give me that. I knew then I had to find it for myself and make a life so I was never dependent on anyone ever again. I got a scholarship to university and studied medicine. People always need doctors, right?’ She smiled, trying to lighten the mood. She’d had enough talking about herself.
Leo watched her eyes and tried to read them. His own childhood had been carefree in comparison to hers and at that precise moment he totally understood her self-containment. Anyone who’d lived a roller coaster childhood of over-indulgence followed by abandonment would be very wary of people. Of men.
But she kissed you. The memory of their kiss hadn’t dimmed at all. It stayed so strong and clear inside him—a kiss that told the story of an incredibly sensual woman, someone who’d had some experience. The women he most enjoyed being with were totally independent and relationship-free but still staked their claim for a healthy sex life. But in the last few days he’d dropped enough hints to Abbie that he was open to some fun and good times that there was no way she could have missed them. Nothing he had said or done had lowered her major ‘road block’ signs; in fact she’d done everything she possibly could do to shut him out. And it wasn’t because she wasn’t attracted to him—tangible lust close to the point of combustion burned between them at every meeting and, had their kiss been anywhere else, sex would have followed.
Lust is just a nuisance that can be controlled.
So I was never dependent on anyone ever again.
Her sweet voice replayed in his head and it was like someone switching on a lamp and illuminating a dark corner. Right then he knew exactly what he had to ask. ‘And have you been?’
She glanced up from the sand, confusion creasing her brow into a row of deep lines. ‘Been what?’
‘Dependent on anyone again?’
She rolled her plump lips inward and a shudder ricocheted across her shoulders, down her torso and into the sand. Without thinking, his fingers moved to slide between hers, needing to give her some support, needing to feel connected to her in some way.
She pulled her hand away and fisted it into her lap. ‘Let me put it this way; I had the usual casual and fun uni flings everyone has in the first and second year before they grow up. Then I had a relationship that ran off the rails at six months. But it was well after that I had one serious lapse in judgement which cured me for life.’
I hate what you’ve done to me. Memories of Christina bubbled up inside him and he spoke before thinking. ‘Don’t be too hard on yourself. I had one of those.’
Her head jerked up. ‘I can’t imagine you being dependent on anyone.’
Her accurate words whipped him. She was right; he’d never been dependent on anyone but people had been dependent on him. Dom. Christina. He’d failed them both. ‘I meant a relationship that cured me for life. I got married at nineteen.’
Her eyes shot open so wide it was like looking into a tropical pool. ‘You…I…you’re divorced?’
Regret at telling her clawed him because it opened him up to questions like why he’d married his brother’s girlfriend. Questions he didn’t want to answer. ‘Yep.’
Her astonishment slowly faded, replaced with a knowing look. ‘I bet Maria wasn’t happy about that.’
The corner of his mouth jerked and he took the segue with open arms. ‘That would be the understatement of the century, but we all make mistakes.’
She nodded in agreement. ‘Oh, yeah, and Greg was my ultimate. I’d got through the gruelling years, I’d qualified and was working in Adelaide.’
Relief flooded him. He’d managed to divert her. ‘Financially and emotionally independent?’
‘For a short time, yes. I think I’d been working so hard since third year that I’d forgotten how to have fun. When I finally raised my head up to look around at the world, there was Greg
, a silver-tongued actor who told me what I wanted to hear.’
For some unknown reason, Leo really wanted to reassure her. ‘We’re all susceptible to that.’
‘Yeah?’ Sceptical green eyes flashed at him. ‘Well, given how I’d seen all my security disappear again and again as a kid, I should have known better but I stupidly fell hard for the cliché of the happy-ever-after dream. He moved in, I chose china patterns. We shopped and nested and I was the happiest I’d ever been in my life.’
‘So what happened?’ Half of him wanted to know; the other half didn’t want her to relive what he knew would be painful.
‘Piece by tiny piece over two years and under the guise of love, he dismantled my independence and, dear God, I let him.’ Her ragged sigh reverberated between them. ‘After what “the experts” would call the “honeymoon period” his charm started fading and the insidious controlling behaviour came out. He needed me to be with him when I wasn’t at work, he didn’t pass on messages, he chose my clothes, and he decided where we went and who we visited. Every time I started to question this he’d revert to the man I’d first met and convince me I was over-tired from working too hard, that after a good night’s sleep I’d understand I was being unreasonable. He had me second-guessing myself to the point of going crazy.’
‘Bastardo.’ Pure white anger surged through Leo.
She mustered a small wry smile. ‘Exactly. The day he hit me I told him to leave. I went to work and when I came home that night the apartment was empty. Utterly empty. He’d taken everything, including the mothballs in the linen press.’
‘He took your clothes?’ Leo wanted to commit murder. How could someone do that to a person?
She nodded and her shoulders straightened with what he was starting to recognise as her trademark strength. ‘Everything. Thankfully, I had work and slowly I paid off my debts and the moment I finished my GP training I came up here.’
‘Good for you. New start?’
‘Totally.’
‘And since then?’
Her brow creased. ‘And since then, what?’
‘Have you had another go? Tried a healthy relationship?’
She shook her head. ‘God, no. I choose the wrong men so I’m leaving all that for the people who know how to do it and do it well.’
‘Fair enough.’ He could understand that line of thinking because he had no intention of ever again entering the black pit of despair that was a long-term relationship. ‘What about dating?’
‘Nope, nothing.’
‘Nothing at all?’ He couldn’t keep the incredulity out of his voice. An amazingly sensual woman sat calmly telling him she was actively avoiding any sort of liaison. It was just plain wrong.
Her lips twitched. ‘It’s not a tragedy, Leo. I’m happily single and I plan to stay that way.’
Lust is just a nuisance that can be controlled.
‘Dio mio! Yes, it is a tragedy. I’m happily single too but I’m here to tell you that it doesn’t mean you have to lock down every sexual emotion that you have.’
Her mouth tightened. ‘Don’t be over-dramatic. What’s important here is that it’s my choice and it works for me.’
He didn’t believe that for a minute. ‘Really? A lifetime of no sex works for you?’
Everything inside her stilled. Get out now! Like the terrifying spray of wild-fire burning embers, his words scorched and burned into her. Warrior Abbie grabbed her shield and ran for a bolt-hole. Abbie stood up abruptly, determined to end this conversation right now. ‘Murphy, here, boy.’
The wet and soggy Border collie shot straight to her, shaking sand everywhere.
Leo brought his arms up to protect his face from the sand and then shot to his feet, his eyes blazing with a mixture of pity and desire. ‘If we’d been somewhere more private when we’d kissed you know we would have ended up having sex.’
She knew that too but no way was she going to admit it. With shaking hands she reattached the dog’s lead and gave Leo her best disdainful glare. ‘In your dreams, mate.’
‘Oh, but it is.’ His usually smooth voice cracked slightly as he stepped in close. ‘You can’t deny this incredible thing that boils between us every time we’re together.’
Her mouth dried. ‘I can and I will.’ I have to so I stay safe.
‘Abbie, neither of us is looking for a relationship and we’re both very clear on that.’ He tilted his head forward so his forehead touched hers. His aroma of mint and citrus overlaid with an all-masculine scent stormed her nostrils. Her heart pounded fast, driving hot blood through her veins, sending her nipples into tight buds of anticipation and pooling moisture between her trembling legs. Every part of her wanted him so badly she thought she’d explode from the bliss.
But she clenched her fists against every tempting sensation and desperately tried to block him out.
He slowly lifted his head and stared down into her eyes, his expression deadly serious. ‘Please know that I’m not any of the men who’ve marched through your life demanding your love with controlling conditions.’
And on one level she really did know that but it didn’t stop the fear about herself from battering her.
His expression morphed from serious to a wicked gleam. ‘Abbie, remember those casual flings at uni? The ones you told me were fun?’
Panic fluttered so fast in her chest she thought she’d faint. Dear God, he’d really listened to her. Warrior Abbie stamped her foot. How could you have been so dumb to say something like that to him?
His voice rumbled around her, warm and enticing. ‘We have four weeks where we could have a lot of fun and some amazing sex, enjoy it all and then say goodbye. Use me to banish that bastard’s memory with some fun.’ His finger trailed down her cheek. ‘The invitation’s on the table and the RSVP is up to you. Think about it.’
He stepped back, gave Murphy a scratch behind the ears and with four long strides he reached the bank, jumped up onto the path and walked away.
Abbie’s legs gave way and she sat down hard on the sand with Murphy licking her face, his expression confused. Bright spots danced in front of her eyes and her body tried to get some blood back to her brain but all her pleasure centres refused to give it up. She steeled her mind to close down every single sensation. Greg’s charisma had been her downfall. The day she’d kicked him out, Abbie had gathered her emotions, reclaimed her heart, jammed the lot into a padlocked box and thrown away the key. Warrior Abbie had stood guard over the box ever since—an easy job as there’d never been a single attempt to pick the lock. Until Leo.
Leo, who, when you navigated past the superficial charm, had more facets to him than a radiant-cut diamond. Confusing and contradictory sides, sides that whispered to her that he was a good guy, an honourable man. Whispers she wanted to trust. Whispers that terrified her.
Remember those casual flings at uni? We have four weeks where we could have a lot of fun and some amazing sex, enjoy it all and then say goodbye.
Tingling sensations ripped through her, shaking her to her very marrow and tempting her so strongly she felt weak all over. She blew out a long slow breath. Forget the facets, it was time to regroup. She mentally ran over her ‘life is good’ list. She had a good job, lovely friends, a dog who adored her and she was safe. She’d spent years working to keep safe, making sure she kept safe.
Use me to banish that bastard’s memory with some fun.
Nothing about Leo was safe.
And so help her; that was the one thing that called so strongly to her and threatened her the most.
‘Dottore, you need sleep.’
Abbie sat sharing lunch with Maria. She hated to admit it, but she was also hiding from Leo. He’d already visited Maria so she knew she was safe. Maria was right, she needed sleep, but sleep had refused to need her last night. She’d tried watching TV, reading, a long warm soak in the bath, yoga, deep breathing and relaxation but nothing had kept her mind from constantly re-hearing Leo’s invitation. Fun, amazing sex, good times
and then goodbye.
Every time those words rolled over in her head, images of rolling over with Leo wrapped around her had followed, leaving her skittish and completely wound up. Could she really have an affair and keep safe? Could she pretend she was eighteen again and have fun? The thought kept taunting her, calling her and driving her insane.
‘You’re right, Maria, I need sleep but yesterday was a difficult day.’
‘My grandson, he no sleep either.’ The old woman put her work-worn hand over Abbie’s. ‘This woman and her baby, they are sick, yes?’
‘Very sick.’ Leo had met her at the clinic this morning with the news that Penny’s baby had been stillborn and Penny was in multi-organ failure, fighting for her life. Murphy was spending the day with Alec.
Maria grunted. ‘A crazy world this is when an old woman lives and the young they die.’ She tapped her finger imperiously on the table. ‘I want to go home for the vintage.’
Abbie sighed, knowing that when Maria made up her mind it was hard to dissuade her of anything but the family had agreed that Abbie was the doctor in charge and that Maria was only to be discharged when Abbie considered it appropriate. Maria’s walking was improving each day but it was still a bit too early for her to go home. ‘When’s the vintage?’
‘When the grapes are ready.’
‘Yes, but what date is that?’
Maria rolled her eyes. ‘When the sugar is right. Could be tomorrow, could be next week, could be longer, but I must be home for the twenty-seventh.’
Abbie calculated how many days until the specified date, wondering why Rosa and Anna hadn’t mentioned its significance to her if Maria was going to get so het up about it. ‘Is that a special day?’
Rheumy eyes usually so full of gritty determination suddenly filled with a resigned sadness and an unusual melancholy circled her shoulders. ‘It is a day not to forget.’
Abbie tried not to frown at the cryptic answer. ‘Well, if you keep working hard on the physio and the occupational therapist can install the necessary rails and bars in time, then there’s a chance you could be home for the twenty-seventh.’
