by Robyn Grady
In her haze, she slowly smiled. Staying in sounded divine. But a name he’d mentioned had stuck in her mind. She’d heard about Australia’s most famous amusement park, its huge smiley face entrance, and she remembered…
She turned around. “Wasn’t there an accident there years ago?” Before he could ask, she explained, “I’m not sure…I might have read about it somewhere once.”
He was looking at her curiously, clearly wondering what else she might have recalled. “There was an accident. In the Ghost Train tunnel.”
“People were killed.”
“That was forty years ago. Everything’s updated. Regularly safety checked.”
She listened as he explained how the rides had been removed, restored and, in some cases, redesigned. How nothing like that had ever happened since. Still…
She held his sandpapery jaw in two hands. “Is it okay if we don’t do any roller coasters today?”
He chuckled. “Where’s my little thrill seeker?” he asked.
She’s being moderated by the more sensible mature me, Scarlet thought. But she wouldn’t tell him that. Not yet. She’d choose the best time for this spell to be broken, even if she felt guilty about keeping the truth from him in the meantime.
She changed the subject.
“Weren’t we going to see your dad?” Daniel had mentioned he wanted to catch up. Then she remembered to qualify her words. “I mean, your foster dad.”
* * *
Daniel did want to drop by and see Owen. He’d give him a call soon. But first he needed to satisfy a craving, one that seemed to grow more powerful every day. With Scarlet looking as if she had something to share, he lowered his head and imparted a kiss that only left him aching for more. Deep, thorough, but also steeped in meaning.
He was glad she didn’t want to do the sightseeing thing today. Not that he wouldn’t enjoy showing her the unique sights and sounds of his city—seeing her eyes widen in wonder and hearing her tinkling laughter each time he introduced her to something new. But tasting her again now, feeling her so supple and giving against him, he wanted to take her to bed first. He intended to relieve her of her clothes, cloak her body in caresses, before considering anything else.
Except making that call.
Reluctantly he broke the kiss and left Scarlet to pore over the view. Pulling out his cell, he moved inside and down a hall that led to the master suite. While he waited for Owen to answer the phone, Daniel considered the way Scarlet had returned his kiss just now. Her more uninhibited moods got his blood pumping so hard, restraint was an enormous challenge. But these past twenty-four hours or so, he’d been just as okay with her inclination toward “less explosive, more thoughtful.”
Even cautious.
Which linked to her hesitation over doing Luna Park when a few days ago she’d have been first in line to volunteer for a base jump. And she’d recalled reading about an accident from almost half a century ago? So she’d regained some memories. Some understanding of who she’d been before. If that were the case, it made sense that she’d be feeling unsettled or cautious now, caught and even torn between two realities—pre- and postamnesia Scarlet. She might be wondering how she’d let Daniel talk her into flying away so far from home.
Before her fall, she didn’t want to see him again. She’d called him a sports-mad, unconventional playboy who was only interested in pursuing pleasure. Her complete opposite. With recollections filtering back, was she secretly shocked at how close they’d become? How very intimate they’d been?
Wandering into the bedroom, he pulled back the bed covers and was in the master bath flicking on the indoor hot tub’s faucet when his call connected. His foster dad laughed when he heard Daniel’s voice.
“I’m in town,” Daniel said.
“What are you doing tonight?”
“Visiting you.”
“Perfect. I’m hosting a bush dance.”
“Raising money for one of your community causes?”
“Whenever I can.”
Although Owen refused any kind of handout himself, in the past he had suggested charities Daniel might want to assist with a spare buck or two. That’s how he’d come across Youth Rules, among others.
“So it’ll be all country music?” The squeak of a fiddle made him cringe. “No chance of slipping in a bit of rock?”
“What if we take a vote?”
And Daniel knew if he brought it up again, Owen would do just that. Owen always listened. He was always fair.
“Mind if I bring a friend?” Daniel asked.
“As long as she can promenade and do-si-do!”
Daniel didn’t ask why his dad thought his friend was a woman. Over the years, Owen knew his foster son had enjoyed the company of more than a few ladies. But Daniel had never felt the kind of connection he’d formed with Scarlet, and in such a short time.
Weird.
But when all the pieces of their past were slotted into place, would she want to know about him or sharpen her boot to kick his behind?
They quickly ended the conversation; Owen still had hay bales to arrange before the party. Daniel left the faucet running in the hot tub and returned to the balcony.
“We need cowboy hats,” he said, strolling out into the sunshine.
“We’re going to a rodeo?”
“A bush dance at Owen’s. There’ll be lots of stomping and swinging and country music, and maybe later some AC/DC.”
Holding an imaginary guitar, he let loose with a “Johnny Be Good” duckwalk across the balcony. He wondered which Scarlet would respond to his mini-performance…the adventure-loving woman he’d come to know these past days, or the far more restrained lady from D.C. with her classical tastes and restrained ways.
When her lips pressed together and her expression seemed to set, Daniel slowly straightened. Guess he had his answer. The re-emerging socialite was not amused, or didn’t want to show that she was.
But then her expression ignited and once again she came alive. Skipping over, she caught his arm with hers and swung them both around and around in a classic square dance move. Laughing, relieved, he swept her up into the sling of his arms. Hearing her sandals land as she heeled them off along the way, he headed into the house and down the hall. Entering the bedroom, she blinked.
“Water’s running,” she said.
“Warm and deep and very soon sudsy.”
In the bathroom, he set her down on the shaggy king-size mat laid out on the expansive tiled floor. Then he poured a mixture under the faucet. Bubbles foamed and the scent of lavender swirled out and all around.
“That looks incredibly relaxing.” Stretching, pretending to yawn, she wound her hands and arms up through her hair and over her head. “I might just fall asleep.”
“You can try.”
He slipped her T-shirt up and off. Damn, he loved the fact she didn’t wear a bra. In quick time, he peeled the jeans down her legs. As she kicked away the denim pooled around her feet, he ditched his own clothes. Then he took her hand and climbed into the spa.
As he found the ideal spot to settle against the elevated, padded headrest, she stepped in. He savored every movement as she edged carefully into the bubbling pool. Her calves disappeared beneath the surface, her upper legs. When she was submerged, he swirled her over and she straddled his lap. While his mouth made love to each breast in turn, she held his head and moved against him.
His arms slid up her back, holding her in place while their legs slipped over one another and his erection throbbed and grew. With her fingers twining through his hair, she nuzzled him while his tongue and teeth toyed with her nipples.
“You can do that all day,” she murmured at the same time she slid an arm between them. Then her magic fingers began to work his engorged length up and down until he reached an inhuman, smoldering state. He wasn’t sure what she was doing with her nails, but the combination of submerged slide and graze was going down very well. When she maneuvered herself a little higher, the tip of his e
rection trailed between the tops of her thighs and slid just a little inside her. Her hips moved as she held and steered him an inch higher, circling the head of his length around the most sensitive, responsive part of her. He groaned at the molten surge through his veins. His tongue rode around a tight nipple, then flicked it until she shuddered out a sigh and her neck rocked back. Knowing that she was using him to arouse herself more created an erotic image in his mind that had him throbbing, balanced on the edge. He wanted to enter her again, this time fully. He longed to grind her hips down while his ground unforgivably up.
But he didn’t have protection. It was too difficult to use in the water. Not safe.
Easing her off, he stepped out of the hot tub, then helped her onto dry land, too. He grabbed two towels. After wrapping her in one and lashing the other around his hips, he carried her into the main suite and lowered her onto the bed. He took his sweet time wiping the beads of water and scented oil from her skin while she simply lay there, her gaze searching his face as she let him move this arm or that leg to get to all the interesting places.
By the time she was dry, the water had evaporated off his own steaming skin. He trailed his lips up the inside of her leg, stopping for a good long moment to open her folds and use his mouth to make sure she was as ready as he was. Then he found a condom.
Sheathed, he joined her again, kissing her deeply, showing her how much this meant.
How much she meant.
Her arms and legs wound around him as he positioned himself between her opened thighs. Using as much restraint as he could muster, he thrust inside.
As he moved above her, his arm curled around her head. His focus on her dreamy expression and parted lips, he knew this time was different, even if he couldn’t pinpoint why. Perhaps because they were in his home, because they’d been constant companions for days on end, mainly just the two of them.
Because he hadn’t been with a woman anything like Scarlet before.
When the friction built and his climax slammed home with a force that rocked him, body and soul, he buried his face in the damp mantle of her hair and almost uttered the words. A phrase he hadn’t said since he was a child. Riding the waves, feeling her contract and spasm as her own peak hit, he flinched at a stab of concern. A flash of insight.
Maybe he wasn’t as in control as he’d thought.
* * *
Daniel had appropriate clothing and accessories brought in—hats, boots and chaps for him and a sexy black waistcoat for Scarlet.
When they arrived early at Owen’s place, the music was already blaring. Daniel ignored the squeak, squeak of the CD’s fiddle and ushered his beautiful date around the back of the house. The generous yard was decorated with hay bales and rustic plank fencing. Busy arranging a giant gum branch in front of a table filled with bush memorabilia, Owen had his back to them. When Daniel turned the music down, his foster dad swung around. Welcoming arms shot out.
“You snuck up on me!”
They gave each other a bear hug. “Need any help?”
Moving back, Owen dusted off his large hands. “All done.”
Then he noticed Scarlet. Walking over with his easy stride, Owen offered her his hand. As they exchanged a few words about her time here, Daniel’s stomach muscles twinged. His dad had met other women he’d dated but he’d never had this feeling before. Like he wanted them to meet again.
Another couple appeared, moving through the back gate into the yard. Owen greeted them, too, more introductions were made, drinks were poured. Only the soft stuff. Owen never drank, either, and his fundraising events were always alcohol-free. Then the music was turned up as more guests arrived.
“He’s lovely,” Scarlet said, tapping a boot to the music and looking around as the party lights blinked on.
“Don’t know a person who wouldn’t agree with you,” he replied.
“You were lucky he asked to foster you.”
She was looking at him as if to say, I know about your father leaving, about your parents dying, but what happened in between? His shoulders went back.
“Owen was a friend of the family. He offered to take me in.” That’s it.
“But what happened to your parents? I mean, you don’t mind me asking, do you?”
He wanted to say, Actually, yes, I do.
“I don’t talk about that part of my life.”
“Never?” she asked.
“Ever,” he replied.
Inside of twenty minutes, nearly a hundred people were chatting around the perimeter of the lawn dance floor or joining in the boot-scootin’ fun. A small group had set up a barbecue. The aroma of sizzling sausages mixed with the scent of eucalypt. Everyone was in high spirits and in the mood to have fun.
Daniel caught up with people from the neighborhood he didn’t see often enough. He kept Scarlet close and was certain to include her in conversations about sport meets from his school days and the antics they had gotten up to at blue light discos, the police-supervised dances for kids he’d attended when he was young. Daniel was pleased when a mate he’d known forever mentioned that his former teacher and mentor, Mr. Fielding, was doing well and visiting relatives in England. But no one brought up the connection—the trouble he’d got into as a teen and how Fielding had saved rebel Daniel McNeal from self-destructing.
In his last years in high school, he’d become angry. So full of rage, even now he couldn’t put into words precisely why he’d suddenly wanted to put his fist through a wall, start arguments and be an ass to practically everyone, including poor Owen.
The day he’d stolen a car for a joyride—which had almost ended in his wiping out a couple at a pedestrian crossing—he’d expected to go to juvi. He was a ticking time bomb, certain he was going to turn out like his old man. He didn’t deserve or even want anything from life.
But the car’s owner—Mr. Fielding—had seen something golden in that tarnished boy. Behind the raging youth he’d perceived the child who’d suffered unspeakable tragedy and loss. Mr. Fielding had poured time into his student. Kept Daniel busy and focused around the clock. He’d shown endless patience teaching him everything he knew about the various realms of pure mathematics. At the end of that year, Daniel had found a purpose in life. At age nineteen, he’d started his business. Very soon thereafter, he’d made his first million. His first billion came a few years later.
As another song ended, Owen called out on the mic.
“You guys—Marco, Calum—get my son and his jillaroo on the floor, will you?”
Daniel didn’t need to be pushed. He took Scarlet’s plastic cup and set it on a nearby table.
“Let’s do this,” he said.
They moved to the bottom of a chain of couples. As in previous dances, his father gave instructions, this time for the heel-toe polka. After a couple of run-throughs, the music kicked in and the dance began in earnest. Everyone heel-toed, slid together, clapped and swung their partners around. Hooting and laughing ensued until the song finished and many were left out of breath, including Scarlet. Daniel caught her in his arms and swung her around again, high enough for her feet to lift off the ground.
“Want to go again?” he asked.
Sucking down a lungful of air, she nodded eagerly. But he caught something else shining in her eyes. Something different. The same apprehensive glimmer he’d noticed earlier that day.
With the applause dying, Owen announced, “Grab your partner for Ned Kelly’s Last Dance!”
He and Scarlet joined in a group of ten couples who formed two columns. When the music began, Daniel moved in near his partner and bowed. He and Scarlet do-si-doed, then, coming together, bowed again. He swung Scarlet on his arm. Everyone clapped and stomped a foot while the lead couple swung around and around, then peeled away, gent down one side, lady down the other, all to the music’s twanging beat.
When the lead couple circled around to the end of the line, the two joined hands and raised their arms to make an arch while, at the top of the line, couples co
ntinued to peel off, skipping down each side of the formation, then under the arch to reform the columns. The verse started over with a new lead couple—representing a groom and his bride—and the steps began all over again.
Enjoying themselves, he and Scarlet swung and skipped and danced around. When it was their turn at the lead—when they were meant to swing around and around while everyone else stopped and clapped—her boot heel slipped. Daniel caught and swooped her up and, barely missing a beat, he swung her around in his arms. When it was time for the next move, he set her down so he could peel off down one column of dancers while she headed down the other. A moment later, he joined her at the bottom of the formation, took her hands, raised their arms. And as the other nine couples joked and ducked beneath their arch, Daniel’s gaze locked on hers and, in the slipstream of an instant, he felt his center shift.
While the music thumped and couples ducked, his fingers tightened, laced with hers. He was focused on the rhythm of the music, the squeak of the fiddle, the meaning behind this song. They were dancing, celebrating. He was the groom and Scarlet was the—
“The music’s stopped,” Scarlet said. “We can lower our arms now.”
He did. But while the other couples congregated to hear instructions for the next dance, he brought her near, searched her face, her eyes. She was looking at him that way again. Well, if she had something to say, he wanted to hear it.
He led her off to a quiet spot behind a clump a melaleuca bushes. Then he asked her straight out. “What do you remember?”
“I remember I love jelly beans, but only the pink ones. I could eat them all day, but I limit myself. Or, at least, I try.”
“What else?”
“My parents. My job. My friends, Cara Cranshaw, Francesca Orr, Lee, our receptionist at work. I remember Ariella’s situation. I feel terrible having left her when she needed me.”
“Do you remember us?” A beat passed before she nodded. “Everything?” She nodded again. He sucked down a breath. “How long?”
“Pretty much everything since before we left Hinchinbrook. The rest of it on the road trip.”
