by Robyn Grady
“You can swim on the surface,” he said, “or hold your breath, dive down and really get in there.”
A huge groper glided past below her feet and an alarm sounded in her head. “Should I be scared?”
He laughed. “You should be excited.”
The next hour was spent drifting near the coral. So many brilliant hues and fascinating shapes…fans and fingers and flowers…cones, pancakes and igniting stars. Fish featuring as many colors and forms swirled around, sometimes straight up to her mask to have a closer look, other times grazing her legs, even nibbling her fingers when she held them out.
On another plane, she knew she didn’t normally like the sun and outdoor sport, but this was different. Here with Daniel she felt at home. Whenever she surfaced and cleared her hose, she only wanted to dive straight back down and weave among the inhabitants of this tranquil submarine world.
Underwater, through his mask, Daniel caught her eye and gestured upward. Feeling light and surreal, she shot to the surface. He slid back his mask.
“We should eat. Have a rest.”
“I’m not tired.”
“You’re hooked?”
“I can’t wait to do it again.”
“For now, let’s get you out of the sun for a while.”
Daniel had had the fridge stocked ahead of time. They enjoyed cheese and pâté, then the finest selection of seafood Scarlet had ever tasted. The shrimp were salty and überfresh. Oysters were huge and too delicious to talk about. Sweetest melon—pink and orange—melted on her tongue. Leaning back in the shade of the deck, she wondered if there could possibly be a better life. A more handsome companion. A stronger wish to keep things between them just as they were now.
He was pouring more water; apparently keeping fluids up was superimportant. His hair had dried in a series of dark-blond spikes and his broad bare shoulders were laced with traces of sea salt. As he handed over a plastic cup, she longed to tell him how perfectly happy she was. It was an exuberant, although slightly melancholy, feeling.
She might never be this happy again.
An all-encompassing shadow passed over the deck. Overhead a series of clouds were drifting in. Gauging the sky, she took two mouthfuls of water.
“Do you get many bad storms?” she asked.
“A couple of years ago,” he said, setting down his cup, “a cyclone swept through here. Ripped the town up. Houses were torn down. Boats lay piled up on top of one another on the harbor like crumpled cards. We had some time to prepare before it hit. A few of us holed up in a shelter I had built a little inland.”
“You deliberately stayed? Weren’t you terrified?”
Far as she knew, cyclones, hurricanes, typhoons—they were pretty much the same. Essentially violent storms sweeping in from the ocean. If she’d owned a private jet, she’d have gotten her family and friends together and flown as far away as possible.
“It was scary,” he said. “The constant crashing. We stayed in the shelter until the winds eased. The scene outside was devastating. The footage I took was the first of its kind and was re-Waved around the world. When I got home, there was a thirty-foot boat anchored in the second-story window.”
Trying to imagine that kind of force, she glanced around. “It’s hard to believe this calm could turn into something so vicious. It’s so quiet now.”
“It sometimes happens like that,” he said, leaning over and dropping a kiss on her cheek. “There’s the quiet. Then there’s the storm.”
Like the one she felt slowly building inside of her. Memories—small, fragmented—were creeping back in. How soon before they all came together? She only hoped that when they did, all hell didn’t break loose.
* * *
Late in the afternoon, a bale of turtles befriended them.
Scarlet sat on the back bench, her chin resting on the ledge of her folded arms as she leaned on the deck’s fiberglass rail and gazed, entranced, over the edge. Aside from being on the open road on his motorbike, this was the place Daniel felt most at peace. Out here he didn’t need to think about business or the world’s mounting problems. When he powered out to sea, he forgot about everything but the lap of water against the hull and the blessed heat of the Capricorn sun on his skin.
During this trip he’d enjoyed the company of a woman who had seemed as enthralled by the experience as he was. And every time he looked at her, his evaluation of Scarlet Anders changed a little more and he saw something different. Something innocent, unique and begging to be set free, and not for just a day but for the rest of her time on this earth. Everyone deserved the chance to feel this natural. To be themselves.
An increasing stirring breeze caught her hair and swirled it around her head like a living river of gold. Catching it, she spied him studying her. Her smile was wide, white and trusting. Frankly, the message it sent melted his heart. Angling around to face him, she rearranged the silk beach shirttails around her thighs.
His fingertips tingled. Other than pecks, he hadn’t kissed her the entire time they’d been out here. Perhaps he ought to remedy that.
“Mr. Daniel McNeal,” she announced. “Your ancestry’s obviously Irish.”
About to head over and join her, his head kicked back. He didn’t want to spoil the day by bringing up subjects like his history. But hers was a guileless query. She was curious, even if he’d sooner forget his last name was McNeal.
On his feet, he dug a cloth out from a nearby compartment and began polishing a stainless-steel fitting. “My father’s ancestry was Irish.”
“I love the accent. So friendly. Kind of lilting. Did your mother fall in love with him at first sight?”
“I believe it was mutual.”
Arching a brow, she leaned elbows back over the rail. “And?”
“And they married quickly,” he said, moving to the next fitting to shine that up bright. “Had a son.”
“And named him Daniel.” Her head cocked. “My dad looks so…nondescript. So by the book. I bet your father was a character.”
A character? That was one way of putting it.
“He liked to work hard.” He’d already told her that, although she wouldn’t remember. Vigorously rubbing the stainless steel, he sent over a quick grin. “He wanted to save for a rainy day.”
“Did a rainy day ever come?”
His cloth stopped moving. He wanted to brush the subject off. But he’d already decided. When they hit Sydney, he would take Scarlet along when he visited his foster dad—the man who had been like a father to him for twenty-odd years. So he’d have to explain at least some of his past.
“When I was five, my father lost his job. Not because of performance,” he pointed out; he wanted to be fair. “It was a corporate cost-cutting measure, the type that’s really caught on these days. You know, where companies chase higher profit margins to keep stockholders happy, which equates to workers, many with families, being flicked like the stub of a used cigarette. As for my father, small jobs dribbled in,” he went on, “but not enough to pay the bills. My father…” His gut swooped and kicked. This was harder then he’d thought. “Well…he changed.”
She crossed the deck and laid a supportive hand on his arm. “Everyone deserves the right to work, to earn a decent living.”
Absolutely. He might own a billion-dollar company but he made damn sure his staff was treated well and received the highest benefits. Every employee from Morgan Tibbs to a night-duty cleaner was given respect and rewarded for a job well done.
“My father grew sullen,” Daniel said, absently running his cloth back and forth over the stainless steel as he thought back. “He started to drink. He’d always enjoyed a shandy. Half beer, half lemonade. But he was home a lot now, spending all his time in the shed or down the pub. I think whiskey made him forget. It also made him violent.”
Scarlet squeezed his arm. He wanted to smile and say it was okay. His father never really hurt anyone. Only that wasn’t true.
That same prickly, sick feeling swelle
d in his chest, clogging his throat. It came whenever he thought too long about “back then.” He wanted to push the nausea, the anger, away but he wasn’t finished telling Scarlet what she needed to know. Not everything, of course. The abridged version was crappy enough.
“My father did things he couldn’t recall doing in the morning,” Daniel said as a darker cloud covered the sun and the temperature on deck cooled a degree. “One day my mother told him to leave.” He remembered her screaming at him to get out, get out, get out! He used to dream about it. Nightmares that had left him shaking. “The old man moved out. But every other night he’d sneak in my window, sit on the edge my bed and promise me this wasn’t forever. I’d smell hard liquor on his breath. Days of sweat on his clothes. I wanted him to come home, but I didn’t want him home like that.”
He hadn’t meant to go into that much detail. But by saying it aloud, he realized he should have told his mother about those midnight visits. It had never occurred to him to tattletale; he’d kept all those dark feelings to himself.
“I wish I could go back to that time and give you a great big hug.” Scarlet pressed closer. “And they both died when you were young?”
“I was fostered out to a man by the name of Owen Cedar.”
“A good man?”
“Very good. I’ll take you to meet him when we’re in Sydney.”
“And your biological dad—”
“I don’t think about it,” he said, tossing the polishing rag aside. “That’s all in the past.”
He wiped at the sweat that had broken out on the back of his neck. Damn, he wished the temperature would drop a few more degrees.
An answer from above! Dots of rain began hitting the deck and, beyond that, made tiny expanding circles in the water. He peered into the depths. The turtles were gone.
“We need to get going.”
Her face filled with disappointment. “Couldn’t we just go inside?”
And ride out the squall? He reached for her, brushed his mouth over hers, felt her quiver in response. And a good measure of those bad feelings—the remnants of those unpleasant memories—disappeared. He threaded an arm around her waist and guided her through into the cabin.
They needed a shower to wash the salt off. He intended to clean every grain from her body, then personally pat every inch dry.
* * *
As the wind whipped around them and she held on to Daniel’s leather-clad back, Scarlet couldn’t believe that she’d been such a baby about getting on and riding this beast.
They’d already spent three days cruising the Great Ocean Road on Daniel’s motorbike and she wasn’t certain which she’d enjoyed more—this amazing road adventure or those tranquil days spent up north on the ocean.
They’d stayed on at Port Hinchinbrook three days. A great deal of the time was spent on the yacht, visiting the reef and their regular turtle fans. Daniel had shown her Hinchinbrook Island, too. Together they’d strolled along breathtakingly beautiful beaches, spotting dolphins jumping in the bay and taking in a glorious sunset from the lookout.
On the fourth day, they’d flown down to Victoria, Australia’s most southern east-coast state. His prized bike was waiting for them there, garaged at one end of the Great Ocean Road, a span of highway that wound along Victoria’s lower rim. Daniel had been champing at the bit to get going. But she’d hesitated. There were no seat belts. No car cabin to provide protection.
Now Scarlet hung on tighter and, pressing her front closer to Daniel’s back, reveled in the sense of liberty that two fast wheels and a sexy billionaire could provide. As they swerved around a bend and another picturesque bay came into view over the rise, she rested her cheek against his shoulder blade and thanked the powers that be for the fall that had led to this adventure.
But the memories were coming back.
Snippets about her life in D.C., parts about her parents and starting up the business with Ariella. Her brain hadn’t yet released information about that first meeting with Daniel. Some foggy recollection of being unhappy with him at a recent black-tie function was filtering back…she was telling him they shouldn’t be together because…
Because…well, she didn’t know all of it yet.
And she hadn’t let on that her memory was coming back. She didn’t want Daniel wondering when all the swirling pieces would eventually fall into place. She’d sooner enjoy their time together without that complication. Right now she only wanted freedom. Wanted fun. This other world.
They’d visited places with soaring rock stacks, majestic monster cliffs, crashing surf as well as peaceful bays and lush forests. On a bushwalk, they’d come across koala after koala sleeping, perched in the forks of gum trees. She’d never forget the fresh smell of eucalypt, the supersoft fabric of the koalas’ fur beneath her fingertips.
They’d also watched people taking surf lessons, another of Daniel’s hobbies. He took short videos featuring some of the amazing sights, of her petting a wallaby and ducking as a flock of king parrots swooped and squawked. He posted photos along with captions on Waves. As if he didn’t have enough followers already, his numbers went through the roof. Everyone wanted to comment. Everyone wanted to see where they’d be next. They wanted to know the name of the lady he was with, the woman whose face he was careful to conceal.
They stopped at inexpensive hotels or bed-and-breakfasts along the way. On this, their third day, he pulled the bike off the road near a quiet horseshoe beach and hand in hand they walked down to the sand. Waves rolled in. The huge orange ball of sun was sinking behind them. As she gazed out over the water, inhaling the salty air and feeling the cool breeze on her cheeks, he stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” He murmured against her ear. “Almost as beautiful as you.”
Her eyes watered because of the wind, but more so because of a surge of emotion. She held on to his arms, hugging them and pressing her back against his solid frame.
“I should tell Max to bring Cara here for their honeymoon,” he said. “I could make it my wedding gift to them. That could be my surprise.” He chuckled. “I’m definitely mellowing.”
And for some reason that was all it took for those missing pieces to spring to vivid life in her mind and fall into place. She remembered him showing up at DC Affairs when she was hanging the cupids. She remembered the roses and bow-tied kangaroo. More than anything she remembered their first steamy kiss. And—
Oh, God. She remembered it all.
Nine
Standing speechless on the back balcony of Daniel’s Sydney home, Scarlet swept her gaze over a panoramic view that could only be described as humbling.
“This must be the most beautiful city in the world,” she said as Daniel moved from the open French doors to join her.
The giant shells of the Opera House, surrounded on three sides by water, made a statement about architectural genius and parochial pride. The cityscape on their left looked young and bold and full of life. Sydney Harbour itself was so vast and picture-book blue.
“You should stand here on New Year’s Eve,” he said. “So many boats and crowds lining the shoreline.” He pointed out the Harbour Bridge in the distance. “At midnight the bridge fireworks go off and the entire sky is filled with endless explosions of light and color.”
She pointed to a spire, a structure that reminded her of the Washington Monument back home.
“It’s called the Sydney Tower Eye,” Daniel explained. “The turret holds close to a thousand people.”
“It looks amazingly high.”
“It’s also ranked as one of the safest buildings in the world. Each year hundreds participate in the Tower Run-up, a charity event that involves racing up 1,504 steps to the top. It raises money for beach safety.”
“Which brings me to something I must see. Where’s Bondi Beach?”
He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “Across the other way. We’ll go have an ice cream and sit on the sand tomorrow.”
&nb
sp; She studied his home’s manicured lawns sprawling out toward harborside parkland. Wide stone steps led from the lower story of the house to a massive triangular pool. He’d given a tour of the building—it was big and luxurious. But the style didn’t fit with her understanding of his tastes. Turning around, she studied what she could of the rear of the house.
“When was this place built?”
“An entrepreneur had it made to order in the twenties. He wasn’t five feet tall but he became a giant in business…farming, newspapers. It’s had a few owners in between, but the first time I drove through the gates, walked in the front door, I felt the energy. The view was a bonus.”
“You should have someone commission a painting.”
“Know anyone good?”
She almost provided a name but bit her lip.
Her memory was back—everything. But she needed to find the right time to tell him. When she’d taken up his offer to fly away—to escape—she’d accepted a part of herself that she never would have dreamed existed. Impulsive. Impassioned. Because of this experience—because of what Daniel had given her these past days—she was a different person. More balanced. Less black and white.
Of course, she couldn’t hide away here with him forever. Soon this amazing holiday would need to come to an end. But how would she broach the subject and confess that every one of her memories had returned and she hadn’t said a word?
Daniel had slanted an arm behind her on the rail. Now he tilted toward her, tracing his lips over her crown, dropping slow purposeful kisses on her temple. Closing her eyes, Scarlet let herself relax as his other arm wound around her front, his palm grazing the exposed band of skin above her jeans. When his fingers trailed lower, she quivered and didn’t think about tomorrow.
“Want to go for a ride around the harbor?” he asked.
Scarlet heard more the sexy growl in his voice than the question. She roused herself enough to respond.
“Hmm. What did you say?”
“Ferries crisscross all over the place. We could spend the afternoon on the north shore at Luna Park.” His fingertips skimmed her belly, then dipped lower still. “Or we could stay in.”
