Carrie nodded, but she didn’t look at him. ‘Thanks.’
Max stood for a moment, stalled by uncertainty.
‘I’m fine now, Max.’ Carrie waved towards the doorway. ‘I’ll wash my face and join you in the kitchen in a moment.’
Clearly dismissed, he retreated. As he headed down the hallway he heard the snap of the suitcase’s locks and a wardrobe door sliding open. No doubt the mystery parcel was being stowed away.
* * *
Despite having washed her face, Carrie still had the blotchy, drawn look of someone who’d done too much crying when she came into the kitchen.
Max had made a pot of tea and he filled a mug for her, added a little milk and sugar, the way she liked it.
‘Thanks,’ she said, leaning her hip against a cupboard as she took a sip. ‘That’s great. Just what I needed.’ She took another sip. ‘How’s the windmill pump? Did you manage to fix it?’
To hell with the pump. It was hardly relevant now.
But Max kept the tension from his voice as he replied. ‘Sure, the pump’s fine.’ His heart thudded again. ‘More importantly, how are you?’
Carrie dropped her gaze to her tea mug. ‘Right now I’m pretty messed up, I’m afraid.’
‘That’s...rough.’
She sighed. ‘It’s very hard to remember everything—both the way I was before the accident and—’ Her brown eyes met his in a sideways glance filled with guilt. ‘And the way I’ve been lately.’
He swallowed, hardly daring to hope, but unwilling to push her to explain.
‘I know it must be messing with your head, too,’ she said next. ‘But I can’t really talk about it at the moment, Max. It—it’s still spinning me out.’
What could he say? He was desperate for answers, but Carrie looked so exhausted and strained. To force her to explain how she felt about everything wouldn’t help, and yet it would kill him to remain patient.
‘Oh!’ Carrie groaned and tapped at her forehead with the heel of her hand. ‘I haven’t given a thought to dinner.’
Dinner was the last thing Max cared about, but he hastened to reassure her.
‘There’s bound to be something in the freezer we can throw in the microwave.’
* * *
Dinner was fine—a reheated beef stroganoff. And afterwards, Carrie went to bed early, pleading a headache, which was more than likely, given how exhausted she looked.
Max checked his emails and watched a little TV, mainly flipping channels without any real interest. He was too restless for light entertainment, too distracted to concentrate on anything serious. Eventually he knew it was pointless, sitting up, staring unseeingly at the flickering screen. He should turn in, too. But that involved a delicate decision—to join Carrie or head to the spare room again.
He didn’t wrestle with this for long. He had no intention of letting Carrie withdraw from him. After the closeness of the past few days he was determined to hang on to the ground they’d regained.
As he moved quietly into their darkened bedroom there was just enough moonlight to show Carrie lying on her side with her eyes closed. He stopped, his chest tightening at the sight. The spill of her shiny hair across the pillow, the soft curve of her cheek, her lips softly parted...
He’d left his clothes in the bathroom and now, clad only in boxer shorts, he lifted the bedcovers and climbed in beside her. He held his breath as he listened for the regular rhythm of Carrie’s breathing that signalled she was asleep.
She was silent, and utterly still, so there was a very good chance that she was probably awake.
A new tension gripped Max. Carrie was unlikely to fall into his arms with the eagerness she’d shown last night, but would she stir? Would she turn to him? Say goodnight?
Was there a chance of them talking quietly and calmly now, under the protection of darkness? Or was she still too tense, still battling with her memories?
Or, worse, was she already planning her escape?
* * *
Carrie couldn’t sleep. Despite her exhaustion she was as tense as a bowstring when Max came to bed. She’d half expected him to stay in the spare room this evening, but she’d hoped he wouldn’t. She didn’t want to be alone.
In a perfect world they would make love again. But her world was far from perfect. And, given the mess she’d created by her recent behaviour, she had no idea how to respond to Max now.
She’d been foolishly reckless these past few days—flinging herself at him when she’d had no idea of their past or their true situation. Now she was painfully aware of the real picture.
A week ago she’d walked out on her husband, declaring that their marriage was over, and she’d taken that suitcase with as much gear as she could fit into it to her father’s place. It had been the first leg of her return trip to Sydney.
A couple of days later Max had collected her from the hospital and she’d requested to come back here, to Riverslea, and promptly set about seducing him.
How appalling was that?
The poor guy mustn’t have known what had hit him.
She had to admit Max had handled the situation manfully. Her heart trembled when she thought about the way he’d made love to her, with such touching tenderness and passion. For just a short time their relationship had been fabulous, lit by the fire that had brought them together at the start. There’d been an extra dimension, too—a deeper layer of heart and soul that had left Carrie in no doubt about her husband’s love.
Oh, good Lord. If only she hadn’t thrown herself at him. She’d been unwittingly cruel, and she almost groaned aloud when she thought about the havoc she’d created.
Now she was super-aware of Max lying so close beside her. She could sense the warmth of his body, could smell the scent of soap on his skin, but she knew—no matter how tempted she was—she couldn’t snuggle close. She’d forfeited that right.
There was no point in turning his way, wishing him goodnight like a normal wife. Now she had no choice but to accept the grim and terrible lesson that her returned memory had delivered.
Consumed by fresh misery, Carrie lay stiffly on her side, careful to keep a safe distance, but she couldn’t stop her mind from trailing through the years of retrieved memories. The happiness and the heartbreak.
Against her better judgement she was remembering right back to the night she’d met Max at Grant and Cleo’s wedding.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
IN THE CHURCH, Max was sitting three rows in front of Carrie, and she found herself fascinated by the back view of him—by the breadth of his shoulders, the fit of his beautifully cut evening suit and the neat line his dark hair made across the back of his suntanned neck.
Then he turned around and she encountered her first flash of his amazing blue eyes. She was smitten. But she had to make discreet enquiries via several of the other wedding guests before she wangled an introduction.
At the reception, the bride’s mother came to her rescue when she invited Max to meet her daughter’s workmates. Max gave everyone warm smiles and nods, repeating their names as they were introduced, but when it was Carrie’s turn she could have sworn there was an extra sparkle in his stunning blue eyes, a deeper warmth to his charming grin.
She fell fast and hard, and by some lucky alignment of the planets the attraction was mutual.
Max engineered a little sly rearrangement of the place card settings, so they could sit together throughout the reception. In the breaks between the wedding speeches they chatted animatedly like speed daters, collecting as much information about each other as they could, and no doubt grinning like love-struck fools the whole time.
Max seemed genuinely interested in Carrie, which made a nice change from the guys she usually dated, who were so intent on impressing her they only talked about themselves.
‘You’ll dance with me, won’t you?’ Max said after the speeches were over and they had watched and applauded as Cleo and Grant had given a beautiful rendition of the bridal waltz.
‘Of course.’ Carrie knew she shouldn’t sound quite so eager, but she couldn’t help herself.
Even before the sizzling magic of that first physical contact she was already abuzz. Then she placed her left hand on Max’s shoulder and felt the rock-hard muscles beneath his expensive suiting. He placed his hand at her small of her back and took her right hand in his...and the impact of his touch tingled and zapped through her, clear to the soles of her feet.
She was floating as they danced, almost giddy with excitement and with building heat, swept away by the sparkle in Max’s eyes and smile.
When the band took a short break they returned to their table, and one of Carrie’s workmates leaned close to her ear. ‘Crikey, girlfriend, I reckon you two might self-combust before the night’s over.’
Carrie hadn’t realised their chemistry was quite so obvious, and she found herself blushing, but she didn’t want anything about this night to slow down.
Max obviously felt the same way. The bride had only just thrown her bouquet, and she and her groom were still completing a final circuit, farewelling their guests, when he whispered to Carrie, ‘You think anyone will notice if we slip away now?’
Carrie gulped. ‘Slip away?’
‘I’m staying in this hotel.’ His smile held just the right balance between country boy shyness and sexy intent.
Carrie had never been so reckless and wanton, had never had sex on a first date, but they had already said goodbye to Cleo and Grant and they’d thanked Cleo’s parents.
Another smile from Max and she was willing to throw caution to the wind. She’d sensed that beneath his sexy good looks there was a steadiness she could trust.
They took the elevator up to Max’s hotel room, and the door was barely closed before he drew Carrie in and kissed her.
And, oh, what a hot and steamy kiss it was. Incendiary.
They were both so burning for each other they stripped off in a frenzy, their clothes falling to the floor. It was only as they shamelessly slid naked between the sheets that Carrie felt a flash of fear. Was she being totally foolish, leaping into bed with a stranger?
Then, almost as if he knew how she felt, Max kissed her gently...tenderly...such a sweet, comforting kiss that it melted her fear as easily as the sun melted mist...
* * *
How on earth could she ever have forgotten it?
Everything about meeting Max had been perfect.
Until the next day, when her mother had called.
‘Something terrible has happened, Carrie.’ Her voice had been shaky and high-pitched, as if she was crying. ‘I—I can’t possibly talk about it on the phone. You’ll have to come to my place. Please? It’s important.’
Carrie had never heard her mum sounding so shaken. Reluctantly, she’d said goodbye to Max. Told him if she was free she would ring him later in the day and possibly see him that evening. He’d been spending one more night in Sydney before returning home to Outback Queensland. In case another meeting wasn’t possible, they’d both promised fervently that they would keep in contact—no matter what.
Then Carrie had hurried home to her flat to change before going to her mother’s. It had been like riding a rollercoaster, to go from the heady glory of her night with Max to her mother’s apartment.
Sylvia had looked deathly pale and about ten years older.
‘Mum, what is it?’ She looked so terrible she had to be ill. ‘Have you called a doctor?’
Tears spilled from her mother’s eyes and she stabbed at them with a tissue. ‘There’s someone here, Carrie. He—he needs to speak to you.’
Carrie was more worried than ever. Why would a visitor make her mum look so distressed? ‘Who is it? He’s not threatening you, is he, Mum?’ She was beginning to wish she’d asked Max to come with her.
Her mother gave an impatient shake of her head. ‘Don’t ask questions, Carrie. Just come in.’
Bewildered, and more than a little worried, Carrie followed her mother into the open-plan living area. There was a tall, silver-haired man standing the far end of the room. He was at the window, looking out at a view of suburban rooftops. He turned as they entered.
‘Oh,’ Carrie said with surprise as she recognised one of the wedding guests. She couldn’t remember his name, though. She’d been too busy falling for Max. ‘We met last night, didn’t we? You’re Max’s neighbour.’
His tanned outdoorsy aura reminded her of Max.
‘Yes, Carrie. My name’s Doug Peterson.’
He was smiling as he came forward, but Carrie fancied the smile was strained.
She glanced to her mother, who was twisting the tissue in her hands and looking as scared as someone about to be executed. What on earth was going on?
‘I know this is completely out of the blue,’ Doug Peterson said. ‘And I’m sorry you haven’t had more warning, but your mother and I have something to tell you.’
‘Your mother and I.’ Why did this sound so ominous?
‘Perhaps we should all sit down?’ he said.
Completely bewildered, Carrie sat on the sofa with her mother, while Doug Peterson took the armchair opposite them.
Across the coffee table her mother and Doug exchanged nervous glances, and then, in bits and pieces, they told Carrie their story. Doug, despite the silver sheen of tears in his eyes, spoke relatively calmly and reasonably, while her mother sobbed as she made her halting confession.
Such a disturbing story they told, of falling in love too quickly and marrying in haste, only to regret it when her mother came face to face with the realities of living in the Outback. Then the unconvincing decision that Carrie had been better off not knowing about Doug.
Throughout this recounting Carrie said nothing. She couldn’t speak. She was too shocked. Too upset. Too angry. For as long as she could remember she’d understood that her father was dead. She couldn’t believe her mother had kept him a secret all these years. And she couldn’t believe Doug had been prepared to stay out of her life.
‘Doug was reluctant,’ her mother admitted. ‘But I was sure it was best for you.’
‘Why?’ Carrie demanded. ‘How could it be best to tell me my father was dead?’
‘It was a mistake, Carrie,’ Doug said. ‘A bad mistake. I should never have agreed. I knew that as soon as I met you last night.’
It would have been nice if this had been like a scene from a movie, but Carrie knew that wasn’t going to happen. Not yet. She wasn’t going to simply fall into her father’s arms for a fond hug, making up for lost time. And the two of them wouldn’t be hugging her mother either, with everything forgiven.
Carrie had only so recently met her own Outback cattleman, and she was too upset by her parents’ story—too angry with her mum, with both them. She was remembering, too, all the derogatory remarks Sylvia had made about the Outback, always downplaying life on the land throughout her childhood.
She wasn’t ready for any kind of hugging.
But the situation only got worse when Doug made the mistake of mentioning his neighbour, Max, and the fact that Max and Carrie had hit it off so well last night.
‘A cattleman?’ her mother whimpered, going white as a sheet. ‘Carrie, you don’t want to make my mistake.’
Sylvia became even more distressed when she learned that Carrie planned to see Max again.
‘Oh, please...no. Don’t tell me it’s happening all over again.’
Then she fell back against the sofa, with her head hanging at an awkward angle.
For an appalled moment Carrie and Doug could only stare at each other, then Doug rushed to kneel at her mum’s side while Carrie whipped
out her phone.
‘I’m calling the doctor,’ she said.
It was late in the day when Carrie rang Max from the hospital and told him that her mother had been admitted.
‘She’s being kept in overnight for observation, and they’ll also run some tests,’ she told him. ‘At this stage it doesn’t appear to be anything really serious. Mainly stress, they believe. She’s being treated for hypertension as the first step.’ A small sigh escaped her. ‘I don’t think I can come out with you tonight, Max.’
‘No,’ he agreed. ‘I’m sure your mother needs to have you close by.’
Which deepened her belief that he was a really nice guy. She didn’t tell him about Doug Peterson. It was too soon to admit that her family was like something out of a soap opera.
They talked about when they could see each other again.
‘I’m going to be busy mustering over the next few weeks,’ Max said. ‘But after that’s done I’ll try to get down to Sydney again. Or perhaps your mother will be better by then and you might be able to make a trip up to Queensland.’
Carrie smiled. ‘That sounds like a plan. I’ll text you my email address and we can keep in touch.’
* * *
Perhaps it should have ended then, Carrie thought now, lying uneasily in bed beside Max and remembering. I would have saved everyone a great deal of heartache.
But of course ending her relationship with Max had been the last thing on her mind. When the mustering was over she had taken leave and travelled to Riverslea Downs. There she’d met Max’s parents and Barney, who had welcomed her with open arms.
By then Max had been fully informed about her parents, and he’d taken her to Whitehorse Creek, where she’d met Meredith and deepened her connection with Doug. She’d enjoyed seeing her father in his own environment, and it had been at Whitehorse Creek that she’d had her first horse riding lesson. She’d sensed that in time she and Doug could become close.
The very best part about that first trip to Riverslea Downs, however, had been when Max had taken Carrie on a tour of his property. With a canoe tied to the ute’s roof rack and swags stowed in the back, along with an ice cooler, a camp oven and cooking gear, they’d set off on the adventure of Carrie’s lifetime.
The Husband She'd Never Met Page 12
