by Coleen Kwan
“Yes, I know that now, but when you’re young it’s hard to accept the faults of a father.” He covered her hand with his, and his warmth instantly flowed into her. “And I also understand now why you did what you did. Why you took those photos of him in the first place.”
She stared at him. The intent expression on his face made the panic rear up in her. She tried to pull her hand free, but his grip tightened on her.
“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, the shaking pitch of her voice giving her away.
“Harriet…” He wrapped his fingers around hers in an inescapable knot. “Look at me.”
But she couldn’t. “You can’t possibly know.”
With his free hand he tilted her chin up. “I do know. Cindy told me last week.”
The shame in her coalesced into disbelief. “Cindy! I don’t understand. Why? Why would she ever tell you that…that…”
“That she had a secret affair with my father?” His mouth compressed to a thin line. “Yes, she told me everything.”
“Oh, God.” She wrenched her hand free and covered her eyes. For years she’d kept her sister’s secret, but now Cindy had blabbed and to the person who would be hurt the most. How could she do such a thing? Anger flooded through her. She lifted her head. “I’m going to kill her.”
Adam looked startled. “Why?”
“Because she swore me to secrecy. Because she had no right to tell you.” She balled her hands into fists. “She had no reason to cause you even more pain. Not now, after all you’ve been through…” Her shoulders heaved, and to her horror she sensed she was close to tears.
“I have to admit I was shocked when she first told me. I mean, I knew about my father’s other lovers, but Cindy was young enough to be his daughter!” He exhaled a deep gust of emotion. “But when I’d gotten over my initial outrage, I finally understood why you took those pictures of my dad. You knew about his other secret lovers, but Cindy didn’t believe you. So you decided to get some hard evidence, and you ended up getting more than you bargained for.”
Harriet couldn’t seem to swallow down the bitter lump in her throat. “I tried to warn her, but she accused me of being jealous. Jealous! How could she have thought that?” She sniffed and gulped. “But I guess I’m not totally blameless. I mean, I told myself I couldn’t stand by and watch her ruin her life, even though she was thoughtless and vain and superficial, but if I’m being truly honest, I’d have to admit I didn’t like being dismissed and ignored by my own sister.”
She paused and tinkered with the zip of her handbag as her memories roiled. “I started carrying my camera down to Patterson Park where I knew your father had his trysts, and where he also met that property developer. I think Cindy had dreams of becoming the next Mrs Blackstone. When I showed her the photos, she realised she’d been duped, and she couldn’t bear the thought of being publicly humiliated. I kept quiet about the relationship, and your father must have too, because no one was ever the wiser. She started dating Brett a year later, and they got married soon after. He seems besotted with her, so I don’t know why she’d want to risk everything by telling you about the affair.”
“She thought it was time it came out,” Adam said slowly. “She was trying to make amends.”
Still angry with her sister, Harriet shook her head. “How is that supposed to make amends?”
“She knew it was dragging both of us down, that I still harboured resentment, but now I know the whole truth, and I feel—” he let out a sigh, “—released.”
“Released? Doesn’t it revive all the anger and bitterness you’ve felt for so long?”
“No, it doesn’t.” He rubbed his fingers across the steering wheel. “I realise now my father couldn’t cope after my mother died. He indulged my whims, but he couldn’t confide in me. He neglected the business, ran into financial trouble and didn’t do anything about it. He tried to forget by having multiple affairs. He used Cindy, exploited her gullibility. I don’t feel any anger or bitterness toward her. Or toward anyone else.”
He leaned toward her and touched the curl of hair lying on her shoulder. “How about you, Harriet? Do you still hold any lingering anger and bitterness toward me?”
His light touch sent a quiver through her. “Me? Why would I?”
“Because I was such an arrogant smart arse when I was young. Because I was so full of myself. Because I was cruel and thoughtless.”
“No you weren’t,” she said quickly, too quickly.
He gave a rueful laugh. “I was. But you know I’m not that same smart arse anymore. I’ve changed.”
“I know that.”
“You’ve changed too.” His hand shifted and settled on her shoulder. As his eyes glimmered, her pulses started up a crazy drum beat. “I want…”
His words lingered in the darkness between them. She was sure he could hear the clashing of her heart; it seemed to fill every crevice in her head.
“Yes?” She gulped.
“I want a dance.”
She blinked. “A dance?”
“You turned me down at the Harvest Ball, but now you’ve got no excuses, and I’m out to collect.”
“You want to dance right here?” She glanced out at the night-soaked bush. “There’s no music.”
“I have music.” He rummaged through a collection of CDs in the storage compartment between them, and slid a disc into the CD player. He opened his door. “Come on, then.”
She climbed out of the car slowly, wondering at her folly. This was dangerous ground she was straying into. Here she had no place to hide, and she was running scared. Scared that he might guess her true feelings, that her whimsical crush had developed into fully fledged love with all its fangs and claws and blood. Yearning after Adam from afar was quaint. Loving him up close was simply frightening.
Adam had cut the headlights, so the only illumination came from the waning quarter moon and the splash of stars across the black sky. Her shoes crunched on the dry sand underfoot, and the air smelled cool and fresh, with the light tang of lemon eucalyptus.
The soft sounds of a slow jazz melody began to drift over them as Adam moved toward her, black on black, and held out his hand toward her.
“Shall we?”
She stepped into his embrace, and he wrapped his arm around her waist, drawing her close until their bodies brushed against each other. As they danced, he felt a quiver running through her body, a quiver she couldn’t suppress, and a surge of fierce satisfaction at the response she couldn’t hide warmed him.
The Milky Way soared over them; the night air brushed cool against the back of his neck. He closed his eyes, savouring the feel of her body so close to his, her soft scent of oranges and sugar tantalising him. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her, ever since that first evening he’d run into her at the hospital. And ever since she’d scarpered back to Sydney without saying goodbye, he’d been subconsciously counting the days until she would return.
She wouldn’t get rid of him so easily this time. He pulled her closer to him.
She turned her head, her hair flicking against his cheek, and his heart somersaulted at the contact. He had a sudden urge to bury his face in her hair.
“Our love is easy,” sang Melody Gardot. It was one of his favourite songs.
Was it that easy to love someone?
As the stars wheeled overhead, and the night crickets chirped, and they slow-danced in the dark, the answer came to him in a flash.
Yes. It was easy to love Harriet. He had been in love with her for weeks. He knew it to be true—there was no one else he’d rather be with. Not this minute, this hour, this night, or any other time.
“I wouldn’t have picked jazz as your kind of music,” she said.
He swallowed. His emotions continued to crash over him in waves. Could Harriet detect the change in him? Could he really be in love with this woman?
“No?” He managed to steady himself. “What kind of music did you think I liked?”
; “I don’t know. Maybe hard rock.”
He laughed, finding a release for his tumult. He felt his chest vibrating against hers. The scent of her set off a hot rush of blood that raced through his veins straight toward his groin. He tried to put a few discreet inches between them, but his body refused and hugged hers even closer.
“What are you doing?” She sounded breathless. “I think you should stop.”
He didn’t want to stop. His hips pressed against hers, her thighs were taut and firm against him, and all he could think about was getting nearer.
“Is this what you always do out here?” Her voice was as stiff as her shoulders.
Great. His euphoria glided lower. She thought he was only interested in sex. Not that there was anything wrong with sex—in fact, the way his pelvis was nuzzling hers it appeared sex was the only thing on his mind—but he’d be damned if he let his roaring libido take over and ruin everything after all the effort he’d expended to get her here in his arms.
He swung her around in time with the music, determined she wouldn’t get the better of him. “I’m not doing anything except dancing.”
She drew in a deep breath, but that made matters worse as her breasts swelled up against the wall of his chest. She felt so good against him that his bones started to melt. He loved her, and all he could think about was kissing her. But if he started kissing her, he didn’t know if he could stop, and that would only confirm her opinion of him. He didn’t want that. He wasn’t interested in a brief fling with Harriet; he wanted so much more than that. More than maybe she was prepared to give.
As he was still tussling with his lust, he felt her wriggle against him. What the…? Blow him down if she wasn’t snuggling up against his chest. Through the thin layers of material her luscious curves lured him, and as their heat began to mingle, he felt her nipples springing to attention, and his brain turned to slush.
His feet faltered as he brought her to an abrupt halt. “Harriet,” he muttered thickly, “that’s not the wisest thing to do.”
She seemed confused, as if she didn’t have control of her body either. “Can you let go of me. Please?”
He tried to release her, but their bodies remained entwined. Her hands, he realised, were clutching on to him for dear life, her legs rubbing up against his, her chest glued to his.
He smiled. “I’m trying to, but you don’t seem all that keen to let go of me.”
Hope pounded in his veins. The way she was holding him, Harriet must want him bad. “Not that I’m complaining,” he added. “I like the feel of you plastered all over me.”
Even in the darkness he saw her blush. “Oh, damn.” She pulled away. “We should leave.” She sounded upset. She turned away from him and hurried toward the car.
“Harriet, wait!” He wasn’t quick enough. She jumped into the passenger seat and closed the door.
He followed her, easing himself into the driver’s seat. Her arms were crossed over her chest, hands gripping her elbows, as though she needed to defend herself. Against what—him?
“I thought we were having a nice dance together.” He tried to sound reasonable, calm.
“It was getting out of hand…” She trailed off, tugging at her seat belt too hard so it wouldn’t release.
Out of hand? She had no idea.
She blew out a sigh. “Look, I know what it means when a guy brings a girl here to the Lookout, but believe me it’s not going to happen. Not with me. Not tonight.”
His facial muscles tightened up. “That’s not why I wanted to come here.”
She didn’t seem to hear him. “I’m not some quick and easy lay for you just because you know I’m going back to Sydney tomorrow.”
Did she think he was just some randy slimeball? He started up the engine. “Hell, there’s nothing easy about you, that’s for sure.”
“You shouldn’t have brought me here.”
He revved the engine, and the car bounced over the rutted track. His head ached from his rigidly locked jaw. “Don’t worry. I won’t make that mistake again.”
His heart was still strumming, his body still tingling from their close encounter. Their slow dance had been filled with dreamlike magic and sensuality. For him, at any rate. For her, it had apparently felt like a cheap grope.
The CD player clicked over to the next song—“Baby I’m a Fool.” With a vicious jab he flicked off the music.
She grabbed her handbag and clasped it to her chest. “I don’t want you to think I was leading you on or anything…”
“Of course not,” he said, his voice sounding harsh to his ears. “I don’t think anything of the sort.”
She hunched her shoulders and stared out her window. A chill crept over him. If he didn’t do something, she would slip through his fingers like autumn mist and disappear. He couldn’t let that happen.
He leaned forward and peered at the road ahead. He knew what he had to do.
Adam swung the car through the gates of Blackstone Hall.
“Where are we going?” Harriet asked.
The headlights cut through the darkness, reflecting dazzling orbs on the windows of the mansion as they drove past it. “I thought we’d stop by my place for a while,” Adam said.
Harriet jack-knifed in her seat. “I’d rather not.”
“Why not? It’s not that late.”
Her throat grew dry. “I have a long drive tomorrow. I need a good night’s sleep.”
He pulled up the car outside his cottage and cut the engine. “So you’re determined to go back to Sydney tomorrow?”
Not just determined—desperate. “Like I said, first thing tomorrow morning. So I’d like to return to my parents’ place, if you don’t mind.”
He stared at her for a long moment then sighed. “Actually, I do mind.” He angled his head toward her. “I was hoping you’d stay a bit longer this time, but since you’re hell-bent on running back to the big smoke, I want to ask you something.”
She put a hand to her throat. Why did she feel so breathless? “What?”
“I want you to use your imagination. Imagine that I’ve talked you into staying a few days in Wilmot, and that I’ve also persuaded you to have dinner with me over in Scone.”
“Why would I have dinner with you?”
“It’s my way of saying thank-you for all your hard work on the Harvest Ball. We’ve had a great meal at the restaurant, danced at the Lookout, and now we’ve come back to my place.”
Her fingers cramped on the seat belt. Her chest heaved with indignation as she rounded on him. “Boy, you’re persistent. Didn’t you hear what I said back at the Lookout? Or didn’t you think I was serious? You think just because I had a secret crush on you ten years ago that I’m going to fall into bed with you at the snap of your fingers? Sorry, but I don’t enjoy pity sex.”
He backed off and held up his hands, palms facing. “Hey, where did that come from? Did I mention anything about sex?”
“What else do you mean by coming back to your place?” She glared at him as she struggled to master her breathing.
“I meant we could have some coffee. And that’s not just another euphemism for sex,” he quickly added. “I really do mean coffee and a chance to talk.”
He looked so perturbed and genuine that the backs of her eyes stung. She blinked hard several times. “About what?”
He rubbed his jaw awhile, as if he needed time to gather his thoughts.
“Harriet,” he said, “I’m not the same person I was ten years ago. And in a way I have you to thank. If my father hadn’t been caught, my life would have been very different. I’d have a job in finance and a swanky apartment in Sydney. I’d come up to Wilmot on weekends to oversee the farms and stay in that mansion up there. I’d be rich, self-satisfied and shallow, and I wouldn’t even realise what a wanker I was.
“But you changed all that. Because of you, all my preconceived ideas about myself and about my family were stripped away. I practically had to rebuild myself, but I’m not complaining
because I came out a better man. All thanks to you. And now, since you came back to Wilmot, you’ve given me the final pieces of the puzzle. Instead of brooding about the past, I can remember my father and appreciate him for what he really was.”
His eyes glimmered at her. He drew in a deep breath and stuck his hand out. “I want this to be the start of a new beginning for us. Will you grant me that at least?”
What was he asking of her? She studied his outstretched hand warily as if it concealed a trap.
“You want us to be friends?” she asked.
He remained silent for a few moments, his expression unreadable. “Of course. Friends.” His tone was neutral.
Friends. How could she be friends with Adam and not betray her true feelings? But then again, it wouldn’t mean much, since she would be in Sydney and he would be here. What harm could it do? On the odd occasion when she visited her parents and she couldn’t avoid running into him, they would have a quick five-minute conversation and that would be all.
“Sure.” She shook his hand briefly. “Friends.”
He smiled at her. “Coffee?”
She followed him into the cottage, still tingling from the touch of his hand. She would have a quick cup of coffee with him, and then she would insist he drive her home. She didn’t want to return to her parents’ place in the small hours of the morning and have them jumping to conclusions.
The interior of Adam’s cottage was still warm from the lingering heat of his wood heater. He tossed in another log and opened the damper, and soon the fire was blazing.
“Make yourself comfortable,” he called out as he began to make the coffee.
Harriet hovered next to the couch. She couldn’t look at it without being reminded of the last time she’d sat on it. Not sat, but lain on it. With Adam on top of her, their mouths glued to each other. The back of her neck grew hot with the memories. She shot a glance at Adam standing at the stove, and the gleam in his eye told her that he hadn’t forgotten what had happened on the couch either. Hastily she averted her eyes.
She perched on the edge of an armchair near the wood heater and pretended to study the fire. Within a few seconds she was roasting hot. She stood and pulled off her sweater. A sharp clatter of a spoon dropping made her turn round. Adam was gripping the edge of the kitchen bench, his face flustered as he stared at her.
