A pang shot through her. He hadn’t even considered staying with her. Yet they were lovers. Unless she had imagined the scene on the beach at Drummer Island. Yet every touch, every movement and every one of her shooting-star responses resonated through her as a kind of cellular reminder.
Even if she forced her mind to do so, her body would never forget him. There was no way she could have imagined a scene of such beauty and passion. Just thinking about it sent waves of heat shimmering through her.
‘I’ll drop you at your flat, then go on to my hotel,’ he said, his tone cool and distant. The island seemed like a long way away.
‘Do you want to stay for a meal? I left the freezer fairly well stocked.’
Did he know how reluctant she was to let him go? ‘Sounds good,’ he agreed.
Then she remembered. He probably wanted to use the time to look around for his precious photo. If he found it it would be the last she would see of him. The certainty took some of the pleasure out of his acceptance of her invitation.
Nevertheless, she found herself wanting to show off her flat. She was particularly proud of having furnished and decorated it stylishly on a limited budget. When she’d bought it the furniture was mostly glass and chrome and the upholstery done in heavy dark velvets. As soon as she could she’d replaced it with lighter fabrics and bamboo furniture, in keeping with the tropical location, just one block back from the waterfront and a short walk from the centre of town.
A decorator friend for whom she’d booked a successful world trip had advised her to use mirrors to make the small rooms seem larger. Then she’d found a superb glass and rattan table with chairs covered in cream French linen at Rusty’s Bazaar. Rusty’s was a Cairns landmark, where you could buy almost anything. Her collection of oriental prints and scrolls came from the same place.
‘I hope you like house-plants,’ she told Harry when they started up the staircase to her flat. ‘Since I moved in mine have grown to jungle proportions.’ Her cordyline now reached the ceiling.
‘The rain forest atmosphere will remind me of home,’ he said on a laugh. ‘How do they survive when you’re away travelling?’
‘I have most of them in self-watering pots, a travel agent’s best friend,’ she confessed. About to say more, she had to stifle a cry instead at the sight of her front door standing open.
The chaos inside shocked her to her core. Her precious plants were overturned, the water wells spilling on to the carpet. The linen chair covers had been slashed open, and every print on her walls had been vandalised. She stared at the mess, too stunned to cry.
Harry pushed past her into the room. ‘Stay here. I’ll make sure the intruders have gone.’
She grasped his arm. ‘Be careful.’ She didn’t know what she would do if anything happened to him.
He gave her a wry look. ‘Thanks. I intend to.’
She heard him moving from room to room, opening and shutting doors and cupboards. Finally he returned, his face set. ‘Whoever they were, they’ve gone.’
‘Do you think Tyler Thornton could have done it?’
Harry’s eyes roved over the chaos. ‘Anything’s possible, but it isn’t really his style. From what I know of Thornton, he hates to get his hands dirty.’
‘And he called you from Brisbane,’ she remembered. Then she bit her lip. ‘I suppose he could have said he was in Brisbane to establish an alibi.’
Harry shook his head. ‘Too easy to check with his editor.’
She gave a shaky laugh. ‘I must be getting paranoid. It’s probably just your everyday burglar who hasn’t a clue about any photo.’
‘It’s possible.’ He didn’t sound convinced. ‘Just in case, don’t touch anything until the police have had a look.’ Taking his own advice, he wrapped a handkerchief around the telephone handset before making his call.
While they waited for the police she offered him a cold drink from the refrigerator, one of the few items which hadn’t been vandalised, although most of the contents looked as if they had been opened and checked.
Perched on kitchen stools, they sat silently sipping their drinks. After a while Harry said, ‘Are you sure you’re all right, Lisa?’
‘I’m fine,’ she said determinedly. If she gave way now she would crumble into little pieces. Her control was the thinnest possible veneer. But giving way wouldn’t help, and it wouldn’t change what had happened.
‘This place means a lot to you, doesn’t it?’
‘It’s my base, my security—or it was.’ Knowing her family background, he understood how important it was to her to have a secure base, something she’d never enjoyed while she was growing up. Moving from place to place, always looking back over their shoulders, she’d vowed to have her own home as soon as she was an adult.
‘You won’t stay here now?’
‘How can I?’ Despite herself, her voice rose on a note of despair.
‘It’s all right to let go,’ Harry suggested, watching her worriedly. ‘You don’t have to be a hero.’
‘I’m not being a hero.’ At the same time she was taking food out of the refrigerator and lining it up on the counter-top. When Harry’s hand on her wrist stopped the compulsive movement she jerked back as if stung: Her hand went to her mouth. ‘Oh, God!’
The tears came then, hot and sharp, and he held her against him, stroking her hair while he murmured meaningless words of comfort. When the worst was over she lifted a tear-stained face up to him. ‘It’s so awful, Harry. What am I going to do?’
‘Go on. We don’t have any choice.’
She wondered if he was thinking about Kim. How had he managed to go on after such a tragedy? Finding her home in ruins was devastating, but at least no one had been hurt. ‘I feel so—so violated,’ she said.
‘It’s a fairly common reaction when something like this happens,’ the police officer explained when she arrived to investigate.
Lisa’s sweeping gesture encompassed the chaos around them. ‘Why did they have to make such a mess?’
The police officer murmured in sympathy. ‘Sometimes the vandalism is harder to take than the loss of personal possessions. At least they can be replaced. Restoring your feeling of safety in your own home takes a lot longer.’
The woman’s partner moved to the door, which they’d been careful not to touch. ‘No signs of forced entry,’ she commented, making notes. Then she turned to Lisa. ‘Have you lost a key recently, or given a key to anyone?’
Beside her she felt Harry tense. Was he waiting for her to say she’d given a key to Simon? ‘I haven’t lost or given a key to anyone,’ she said firmly.
‘Well, at least you don’t have to replace your front door,’ the police officer said. ‘Do you have the serial numbers of the valuables you’ve lost?’
‘I keep a list, but there doesn’t seem to be anything missing.’ It had been puzzling Lisa since she’d noticed the fact. Her television, video recorder and compact-disc player were all in plain sight and unharmed.
The police officer chewed her pen thoughtfully. ‘That is odd. Maybe it was older teenagers, out for kicks.’
Sick at heart, Lisa turned away. ‘I can’t believe people would do something like this for kicks.’
The officer’s smile was wry. ‘You’d be surprised.’ She closed the notebook. ‘There isn’t a lot for us to go on, so don’t hold out too much hope that we’ll catch the culprit. We’ll check for fingerprints, but, with nothing taken, the case is pretty flimsy.’
Lisa wondered whether she should mention the photo, then decided against it. Since she’d never seen the photo and seriously doubted whether it still existed, it would only waste the police’s time.
She watched dispiritedly as the officers finished their investigation. Harry slipped an arm around her. ‘When they’ve gone I’ll stay and help you clean up.’
The lump in her throat made speech impossible, so she nodded dumbly. She had wanted to delay his departure, but not this way.
After the police left
they began the thankless task. Clutching a cushion against her chest, she asked Harry, ‘Do you think I should have told the police about the photo?’
‘Possibly, but they seemed convinced this was the work of teenagers.’
‘It couldn’t be the photo, could it? Nobody knows about it but you and me.’
‘And Tyler Thornton,’ he added pointedly.
‘He could have told someone, I suppose.’ Suddenly she hurled the cushion against a wall. ‘How could anybody do this to me?’
There was admiration in the look Harry gave her. ‘Good girl. You’ll need a bit of fighting spirit.’
‘Who’ll need fighting spirit? Good grief!’ She looked up to see Simon Fox framed in the doorway, his eyes as round as saucers as he surveyed the damage.
‘What happened here?’ he asked, stepping gingerly over an upturned footstool.
‘As you can see, I had visitors while I was away,’ she informed him, her voice metallic with unshed tears. Her fighting spirit was rapidly evaporating. Belatedly she remembered her manners. ‘Simon Fox, this is Harry Blake. Harry is an old friend of my family’s.’
She noticed his eyebrows arch menacingly at her description of him. Well, let him! The role of Dutch uncle was his choice, not hers.
Simon offered his hand. ‘Pleased to meet you.’ Under the pleasantry there was a wary edge in his voice.
She compared the two men. Simon’s blond good looks made him look like the sun to Harry’s shadow as snapping blue eyes appraised steely grey ones. They were almost the same height, but Harry’s uneven shoulder and outdoorsman’s build made him look more ruggedly masculine alongside Simon’s gym-honed muscularity.
Her heart gave a lurch. How could she have thought of Simon as a substitute for Harry? Not sun and shadow, she amended to herself, light and shadow. Simon came across as disappointingly lightweight alongside Harry’s dark solidarity.
Simon gave Harry a look of distrust. ‘Have you called the police?’
Harry had gone back to work and didn’t look up. She answered for him. ‘They’ve just left. The odd part is, nothing of value seems to be missing.’
‘Maybe it was a teenage prank,’ Simon suggested.
‘That’s what the police think. Whatever happened to ringing doorbells and running away?’
Simon’s arm slid possessively around her shoulders, and she saw Harry look up then away. Discreetly she moved out of Simon’s reach. ‘Did you come for something special?’ she asked him.
He gave Harry a resentful glare. ‘Do I need a reason? I wanted to see if you were back yet. I thought maybe we could go out for dinner.’
Considering that she hadn’t known she was returning today until Harry had announced that the cruiser was ready, this struck her as odd, but she dismissed it. Simon sometimes dropped in unannounced, on the off-chance that she’d be at home. ‘As you can see, I’m not going anywhere for a while,’ she said with an apologetic smile.
Simon took his jacket off and hung it from the door-handle, loosening his tie with one hand. ‘In that case, I may as well pitch in and help.’
Her sense of disappointment was almost palpable. Distressing as the break-in was, she had taken comfort from knowing it allowed her to spend more precious hours with Harry. ‘It’s kind of you,’ she said, aware of how lame she sounded.
Harry straightened abruptly. ‘Since you have your friend here to help, I’ll go and check into my hotel. I’ll give you a call later and make sure you’re all right.’
Harry, don’t go. The request came so intensely that at first she thought she’d voiced it aloud, until she recognised it as a silent plea. With a sick feeling she watched Harry dust himself off and pick up his travel bag which stood near the open door. ‘Thanks for everything,’ she said, aware of how empty the words sounded. Should she thank him for becoming her lover then turning her out of his life?
He swung his bag over his shoulder. ‘I’ll be in touch. Call me if you need me.’
He meant for anything practical, not for the sake of her aching heart. ‘I will,’ she said dully.
‘Thanks for taking care of Lisa,’ Simon said, stepping between her and Harry. The proprietorial sound of it made her stomach clench in protest.
Harry’s jaw tightened but he said nothing as he stepped into the hall. The pain of watching him go hit her like a physical blow. Everything in her longed to run after him. If she hadn’t known why he was so anxious to be on his way she might have suited the deed to the thought.
But she knew all right. The photo was obviously not to be found, so there was nothing to keep him here. It’s over, she thought as a dead feeling settled on her chest. To Harry she was yesterday’s news.
CHAPTER TEN
‘CHEER up, I’m here.’
Lisa’s thin smile didn’t reach her eyes as she turned back to find Simon sifting through a pile of debris. ‘There’s no need to go through those,’ she told him. ‘I’ll probably throw the lot away.’
He continued his careful assessment of the damaged prints. At this rate it would take them all night to clean up one room, she thought crossly.
Something in her manner alerted him. He dropped the prints and came to her, his arms outstretched. ‘I’ve missed you this week.’
He was waiting to hear that she’d missed him, but the words stalled in her throat. In truth the only time she’d given Simon a thought was when she’d wanted to make Harry more aware of her as a woman.
As his arms came around her she tensed involuntarily. His mouth was on her hair and he pulled away, looking down at her in surprise. ‘Not even a welcome-home kiss?’ He tried again to pull her into his arms.
‘Simon, stop, please.’ The urgency in her voice finally reached him and he dropped his arms. She took a step back. ‘I have something to tell you.’
He wrinkled his brow distastefully. ‘It sounds like bad news.’
‘Not really, although you might think so at first. I want to hand in my resignation from your employ.’
He folded his arms across his chest, presenting a picture of paternal understanding. ‘It’s all right, darling, I know what this is about.’
It was her turn to look puzzled. ‘You do?’
‘It’s the burglary. You’re tired and overwrought, still in shock if anything. You want to turn and run away from everything familiar.’
‘Don’t tell me what I feel,’ she snapped, annoyed by his arrogance. Why hadn’t she spotted his irritating father-knows-best attitude before? ‘My decision has nothing to do with the burglary. I’m setting up my own travel agency concentrating on the Torres Strait region.’
‘It’s a bit sudden, isn’t it? If I’d known you were planning to go into competition with me I’d have thought twice about approving your leave.’
A vestige of the friendship she’d felt for him until now surfaced. ‘Don’t make it hard for me, Simon. The leave was owed to me, as it happens. But I’d rather you didn’t pay me for it than regard it as some kind of conspiracy.’
‘But it is, isn’t it?’ he said darkly. ‘You go away knowing you’re the woman in my life, and come back with “don’t touch” signs all over you.’ He reached for her and again she recoiled. ‘You know how I feel about you, Lisa,’ he appealed. ‘I want you to be my wife.’
This was the first time he’d mentioned marriage in so many words. Now that she was slipping out of his grasp he was upping the stakes considerably. He mistook her hesitation for interest. ‘You must have known I want to marry you?’
‘I didn’t know, Simon, and I’m sorry. I thought we were good friends.’
‘Only because you insist on keeping things friendly. You know I want more from you.’ He moved towards her, his hands sliding around the back of her neck. As he bent his head to kiss her she ducked beneath the circle of his arms.
‘I was hoping we could stay friends, but I suppose not,’ she said in a small voice. Turning, she opened her hands in a gesture of appeal. ‘If you must know, I’m in love with Harry Blake.
’ There, it was said. The mere mention of his name sent cleansing whispers of air through her soul.
Simon’s eyebrows shot up. ‘The hot-shot journalist friend of your family?’ He gave the last four words a heavy emphasis. ‘Isn’t he the man who wrote your father’s life-story?’
‘Yes, among many other books and newspaper articles, but these days he owns Drummer Island. He’s thirty-two, a widower and has all his own teeth,’ she finished tiredly, wishing Simon would leave. But he hadn’t finished with her yet.
‘I suppose as well as teaming up with him on his little island you plan to share the spoils from the Russian royalty story?’ he asked, a nasty smile turning up the corners of his mouth.
Her head came up in astonishment. ‘How do you know about the story?’
He looked smug. ‘Tyler Thornton told me. He came to the agency looking for you and we had a few drinks together. More than a few, actually. By the end of the evening he was only too keen to tell me what he was looking for.’
‘Did he do this?’ Her gesture encompassed the chaos around them.
‘He flew back to Brisbane the next day. I haven’t seen him since then.’
Something odd in his voice told her that there was more. It came to her in a rush. ‘It was you, wasn’t it? You were the one who ransacked my flat. You must have taken my spare key from my office drawer—my locked office drawer,’ she finished pointedly.
‘Sensibly I have keys to every lock in the office,’ he informed her. ‘If you hadn’t returned without warning, I’d have had time to finish here. As it is, there are a few places I haven’t looked yet.’
All of which explained his sudden arrival at her flat, and his willingness to help her clean up. ‘Why are you doing this?’ she asked despairingly.
He seemed almost eager to satisfy her curiosity. ‘The photo is worth money, which I happen to need. I thought having the media’s little red darling on my staff might turn things around, but last week the bank called in my overdraft. What with the new premises in Cooktown and Townsville, I have to find cash from somewhere.’
‘So it was all a lie. I was simply a promotional tool to you all along.’ She felt as if someone had snatched a rug out from under her feet.
Island of Dreams Page 13
