Playing for Love (Summer Beach Vets 1) - sweet vacation romance

by H. Y. Hanna

  It was the Beagle. He was standing up in his crate and barking at them. A minute later, they heard footsteps approaching. Quickly, Craig let Sara go. By the time Megan popped her head around the door, Sara was back beside the Beagle’s crate, several feet away from him.

  Craig looked at the dog thoughtfully. First that time by the crate when the Beagle’s sudden head movement had caused Sara’s hand to brush his, and now the barking which had provided them with a timely warning. You could almost imagine that the dog was playing matchmaker and guardian angel!

  He smiled inwardly at the fanciful thought and pushed it aside. He nodded absently at what Megan was telling him and, when she had left, he turned back to Sara.

  “I’m going to Sydney tomorrow. I need to see my agent—but I can stay the whole day; I don’t need to get back until evening. Why not come with me? You haven’t seen any of the big sights in Sydney yet, have you? It would be a shame to come to Australia and not visit the Opera House or any of the other famous landmarks.”

  Sara hesitated, then gave him a shy smile. “I’d love that.”

  “Great. Then I’ll come by Ellie’s place tomorrow morning and pick you up. Say eight o’clock… is that too early? It’ll take us a couple of hours to drive down.”

  “No, eight is fine. I’ll be ready.”

  “Beauty. See you then.”

  CHAPTER 11

  Sara watched nervously as a silver Jeep Wrangler pulled up in front of Ellie’s house. She took a deep breath. She hoped she wasn’t making a terrible mistake. It had seemed so cut-and-dried when she first saw Craig’s picture in the gossip magazine. She had been so sure that she should stop spending time with him, that she couldn’t take any risk with her heart again. But then, after she saw him in the vet hospital, everything had changed. And after that kiss…

  Suddenly, she wanted to take risks. Any risk. As long as it might mean that she could have Craig in her life. A part of her brain knew that she was still going home in less than two weeks, that this couldn’t go anywhere, that it was hardly going to be more than a vacation fling—and she’d always vowed that she would never do those—but it was as if that part of her brain had been forced into hibernation. A different part of her brain was taking over now. A part that was telling her to live in the moment, grab it with both hands, and enjoy it while she could.

  Ellie had approved. She had beamed when she heard about Sara’s plan to join Craig on his daytrip to Sydney and had insisted on helping her find an outfit to wear. Since Sara hadn’t really packed anything else “date-worthy”, Ellie had lent her some clothes. Luckily, the two girls shared the same curvy figures—Sara found to her delight that several of Ellie’s clothes fit her perfectly.

  In fact, it had been great fun trying on different things from Australian brands she had never heard of—almost like going on a shopping spree without spending any money! She and Ellie had wasted away a couple of enjoyable hours, chatting and giggling last night as she modelled various items in front of the mirror. Finally, Sara had chosen a strappy white cotton top, edged with broderie anglaise, paired with a simple denim mini-skirt which somehow managed to accentuate the curve of her hips without making her thighs look fat.

  “This skirt is a miracle,” Sara had said with a laugh, smoothing her hands over the denim as she looked at herself in the mirror. “You’ve got to take me to the store it’s from, before I leave, so I can get one too!”

  Now she smoothed her hands over the skirt again and took another deep breath to calm herself. Then she went out the front door, locked it behind her, and climbed into the Jeep. Craig was wearing a gingham check shirt in a shade of blue that matched his eyes, and looked incredibly handsome and dashing behind the wheel.

  “I brought you some brekkie from our local bakery, in case you didn’t have time to grab any.” He nodded to the space between their seats. A paper cup sat in the holder and a brown paper bag rested next to it.

  Sara picked up the cup gratefully. He thought of everything. It was true that she hadn’t had any breakfast that morning—although more because of nerves than because of lack of time. She took the lid off the cup and sipped, feeling the steam waft up into her face. The fragrant aroma of hot coffee filled the car.

  “Mmm…” Sara sank back in the leather seat, savouring the rich flavour of the coffee. She was no connoisseur, but this coffee was good.

  She peeked inside the paper bag and found two croissants nestled inside. Pulling one out, she bit into it carefully, trying to catch any flakes that peeled off. It was delicious: light and buttery, with none of that lumpy stodginess that croissants often had.

  Sara chewed and swallowed, washing it down with another mouthful of the hot coffee, and said with a laugh, “First that café and now this. Is food this amazing everywhere in Australia?”

  “Traditional Australian food is pretty ordinary, actually,” said Craig with a dry chuckle. “I think it must be the baggage of our English ancestry. Sausages and meat pies and that kind of stuff. But a lot of modern places are taking those old classics and redoing them in fresh, new ways. You don’t usually get much gourmet cooking outside of the big cities like Sydney, but we’re lucky in Summer Beach. And our baker’s French, actually. Came out to Australia on a backpacking holiday, stopped off in Summer Beach, and never left.”

  “I can’t blame him,” said Sara. “In fact, I’m surprised that you aren’t flooded with more people moving to Summer Beach. I don’t think I’ve ever been anywhere so idyllic.”

  “Well, we’ve been a well-kept secret so far,” said Craig with a wink. “That might be about to change, though, with the opening of the new resort. Might bring a lot more tourists to Summer Beach and put it on the map.”

  “I hope it doesn’t spoil it,” said Sara fervently. She picked up the other croissant. “Have you eaten? D’you want this?”

  “I grabbed something when I was at the bakery,” said Craig. “You have it.”

  Sara needed no further urging. She sighed as she finally crushed the empty paper bag and drained her coffee. “That was awesome.”

  “We should really have gone for brunch at Bill’s,” said Craig. “That’s a café in Darlinghurst that’s a Sydney institution. But we would have had to leave a lot earlier and there’s always a queue… Maybe next time.” His deep blue eyes flicked to hers and it was clear that he was hoping there would be a next time.

  Don’t think about the future, Sara told herself. Just enjoy today. She leaned back in her seat and looked out of the window. They had driven away from the coast and were now speeding along the highway, the Jeep’s powerful engine humming softly beneath them. The landscape had changed from thick bush to rugged sandstone cliffs which towered on either side of the freeway, their orange colour startling against the blue sky. Sara saw the road ahead of them straighten out into a long bridge, just as a sign saying “Kangaroo Point” flashed past. And then they were crossing a wide expanse of glittering blue water on a huge, six-lane bridge, with the arching steel frame of an older bridge running parallel next to them.

  “That’s the Hawkesbury River,” said Craig, nodding towards her window. “Aboriginal legends say that there’s a monster that lives in there. Sort of like the Australian cousin of Nessie.”

  Sara laughed. “I’m not that green! You can’t just make up random garbage and feed it to me as ‘Australian legends’!”

  “It’s true,” insisted Craig. “The Dharuk tribal Aborigines have cave paintings showing these creatures in the river. They called them ‘mirreeulla’, which is an Aboriginal word for giant water serpent.”

  “Hmm…” said Sara sceptically.

  “Well, go on, then,” said Craig. “Tell me some ‘garbage’ Californian legends. That’ll make us even.”

  “All right,” said Sara, thinking hard. “We have a version of Nessie too. In Lake Tahoe… it’s called the Tahoe Tessie and there are like half a dozen sightings every year. Even Jacques Cousteau, the famous French explorer, is supposed to have seen it.
And the local Washoe Indians talk about it in their legends.”

  “Don’t tell me—it’s really just a bloody big fish,” said Craig with a grin.

  Sara shook her head, laughing. “Well, a lot of the sightings do say it looks like a huge fish, so one of the theories is that Tessie is really a giant sturgeon living somewhere in the depths of the lake. I mean, sturgeons can grow to ridiculous sizes—there was a sturgeon that was washed up on the banks of Tampa Bay in Florida that was nearly a hundred and thirty pounds—so I guess that could easily be true.”

  Craig raised a wicked eyebrow at her. “Speaking of rivers, have you heard of the Bunyip? It’s an Australian Aboriginal spirit monster that sleeps in rivers and swamps and billabongs…”

  They continued swapping monster stories for the rest of the drive into Sydney. Sara couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed so much or felt so comfortable with a guy. Although she had met Craig barely five days ago, she already felt like she had known him for years. She was sorry when the Jeep finally pulled into the parking lot of a tall building in downtown Sydney.

  She followed Craig silently as he led the way up through the elevators to the top floor and the offices of the talent agency. The place had a slick, sophisticated vibe that reminded her of the showbiz offices she had visited in Hollywood during the brief time she had been dating Jeff and, for the first time since arriving in Australia, Sara felt vulnerable. The feeling wasn’t helped when Craig’s agent—a large woman in a bright fuchsia pant suit—came out to greet them and her eyes gleamed when she saw Sara.

  She recognises me, thought Sara uncomfortably as Craig made introductions and they shook hands. Craig had simply called her a “friend visiting from the States”, saying that he’d invited her along to show her some of the Sydney sights, but Sara could see that Wendy, his agent, was putting two and two together and making five.

  “I’ve got some great news for you, Craig,” gushed Wendy as they were ushered into her office. She pressed her hands to her heart in a dramatic gesture. “They’ve increased their offer for the sponsorship deal. We’re talking high six figures now.”

  Craig laughed. “Good onya, Wendy. I knew you’d wear them down.”

  Wendy gave an arch smile. “Well, I know what you’re worth, Craig. Nothing but the best for my favourite blue-eyed boy, eh?” She patted him on the cheek, her long, red fingernails gleaming against his skin. “Now we’ll just have to play our cards right. They’re keeping their eye on you, Craig—they’ll be weighing up your media influence, public profile, gossip rating… We need to keep that publicity machine well oiled, make sure you’re seen as ‘hot news’. That story about you and the rescue shelter was very nice, but we need something with more meat. Something more personal. Something that captures people’s imaginations…”

  She turned and eyed Sara speculatively. Sara shifted uneasily. This whole conversation was making her nervous. It was all cutting a little too close to home. She knew that media manipulation was something all celebrities—or other public personalities, such as politicians—had to learn to handle. In today’s world, it was a necessary step for a successful career. Still, that didn’t mean she wanted to be involved in any part of it.

  She was grateful when Craig pulled out a sheaf of papers, and he and Wendy sat down to go over the proposals for the upcoming season. Sara wandered over to a white leather seat by the window and looked out at the view of the Sydney skyline, wishing they could soon finish and leave. This whole place made her uneasy.

  “So what are your plans for the afternoon?”

  Sara gave a start and turned around as she realised that Wendy was addressing her. The agent had come over to join her at the window while Craig was busy signing a few documents. Sara stood up hastily.

  “I’m not sure. I’m leaving it up to Craig. I’d like to see the Opera House—”

  “So are you and Craig old friends then? I thought I knew all of Craig’s friends.” Wendy arched an eyebrow and gave a coy smile.

  “Um…” Sara hesitated. What should she say? If she told the truth—that they’d met barely five days ago—the agent would be even more interested in why she was accompanying Craig to Sydney on this daytrip.

  “You’re that Sara Monroe, aren’t you?” Wendy said suddenly, leaning forwards. “Jeff Kingston’s ex-girlfriend!”

  “Uh… I…” Sara stammered, taking a step back. She could feel her cheeks flushing and was furious with herself, with Wendy and with Craig for bringing her here.

  “So was it true? All those juicy stories? Did he really ditch you because you were too fat? Was he cheating on you? And what are you doing in Australia?”

  “Wendy, stop teasing Sara,” said Craig with a smile as he came over to join them.

  Sara glared at him. Teasing her? Didn’t he realise it was more than that? Surely he didn’t think it was okay for his nosy agent to be grilling her like that? Sara compressed her lips and said nothing more, just standing stiffly as Craig bade his agent goodbye. Then the two of them made their way back down to the basement parking lot.

  “What’s the matter with you?” asked Craig as they settled into the Jeep.

  “With me?” Sara heard the shrillness in her voice and took a deep breath, fighting for control. “You should be asking your agent that!”

  “What do you mean?” Craig looked at her surprised. “Wendy was just being friendly.”

  “Friendly?” Sara spluttered. “That woman is about as friendly as one of your saltwater crocodiles! She was pumping me for information which she was probably hoping to feed to the press and then—”

  “Come on, Sara,” Craig said with a placating smile. ‘It’s natural for Wendy to be curious about you. Okay, she might have been a bit aggro, but that’s just her way. I think you’re overreacting.”

  “I’m not overreacting!” Sara shouted.

  Craig’s smile vanished. He said, his voice cool, “You admit you got a bit worked up and blew things out of proportion the day you brought the Beagle in. Don’t you think you might be overreacting again now?”

  Sara ground her teeth. His words infuriated her even more. It was bad enough that he didn’t believe her, but now he was treating her like some unreasonable, hysterical woman. She wasn’t overreacting!

  Was she? She gazed out the window as the Jeep pulled out of the parking lot and began winding through the streets of downtown Sydney. She had to admit that Craig was right—she had gotten a bit overemotional with the Beagle. But this was different, wasn’t it?

  “Look, I’m sorry Wendy upset you,” said Craig in a quieter voice. “I’ll have a word with her the next time I speak to her, okay? But I really don’t think she meant anything by it.”

  Feeling slightly mollified, Sara nodded. She didn’t want their day ruined by hostility between her and Craig. Forcing a smile to her face, Sara turned to look out the window and tried to push his nosy agent out of her mind.

  CHAPTER 12

  They parked the Jeep near Circular Quay, Sydney’s main ferry terminal and waterfront precinct, and strolled through the historic old streets and picturesque wharves of The Rocks. Tourists swarmed along the sidewalk, clicking away on their cameras and poring over folding maps. Sara enjoyed window shopping as they passed various souvenir stores and galleries displaying Australian art, jewellery, and other craft items. She paused outside one store window and gazed in wonder at the display of beautiful, iridescent stones glowing with a rainbow of colours. A sign above the store doorway invited visitors to come in and view their “Australian Opal Collection”.

  “Opals are the national gemstone of Australia,” said Craig. “I think about 95 per cent of the world’s opals come from here. Want to go in and take a look?”

  Sara nodded and followed him eagerly into the store. A smiling Asian woman came forwards and ushered them over to the display cabinets. Opals, she explained, came in several types. The most common and least valuable type was the white opal, also known as the “milky opal”, as they didn’
t show the colours very well. Then there were crystal opals which tended to be slightly transparent, so that light passed through the stone. These came in an array of beautiful colours—they reminded Sara of a Caribbean lagoon on a sunny day: vivid pale blues and greens, with flashes of orange and yellow, like tropical fish darting through the water.

  “The most sought-after, of course, are the black opals,” said the shop assistant, leading them over to another display cabinet. Inside were a selection of lustrous gemstones that seemed to each burst with a rainbow of colours. Glowing crimson, brilliant green, turquoise blue, dazzling orange… all shimmering together against a dark background.

  “They’re amazing,” murmured Sara, peering into the cabinet. “It’s almost like there’s a tiny little fire burning inside each one and you can see the different colours of the flames…”

  The shop assistant nodded. “You can see why they’re the most valuable. A top-quality black opal can be worth as much as $15,000 per carat. That’s comparable with diamonds.”

  “Wow,” said Sara. “But what makes those amazing colours? How are opals made?”

  “Ah, well, there are lots of stories. The Arabs believed that opals fell from the heavens in flashes of lightening. The ancient Greeks said that they were the tears of the god Zeus. In India, the legends say that the Goddess of Rainbows was so beautiful, she was chased by all the other male gods and had to turn herself into an opal to escape their advances. Australian Aboriginals have a Dreamtime myth which says that opals were left in the footsteps of the Rainbow Serpent, who created the world and all living things.”