‘We might rival Dubai with the heat but you do know there’s no seven-star service out here.’
‘My needs are simple. Food, sleep and…’ he eyed off the contrary air-conditioner, ‘cool air.’
Now was not a good time for laughter to gleam in his blue eyes.
‘Summer here,’ she said in what she hoped passed as a comment and not a snap, ‘only has one temperature setting and today is just a taste of what will be on the weather menu.’
Stiffness reclaimed his features. ‘Is warning me about the weather your way of saying my niece is too hard to work with?’
‘No, not at all.’ She looked toward the play area where Tilly made splashing sounds as Stardust leapt in and out of the pretend pool. ‘Tilly does have a speech delay but with appropriate therapy a positive outcome is achievable.’
‘How long…until my ward’s speech can be understood?’
Had a ragged note of desperation torn through his words? Impossible.
‘With all speech therapy it’s important we retain perspective. Even though Tilly is close to five, she hasn’t mastered the three-year old sounds ‘k’ and ‘g’ that occur at the back of the throat. So she substitutes the easier sounds ‘t’ and ‘d’ instead. Hence ‘Kade’ becomes ‘Tade’ and ‘goat’ becomes ‘doat’. Her programme would involve mastering the ‘k’ and ‘g’ sounds and then, like a ladder, progressing up a series of steps. A single step may take over a week to achieve and I must warn you we can only work on one sound at a time.’
His lips thinned.
Mia gritted her teeth. She was in no mood to be patient with yet another man who demanded an instant fix. ‘This is the outback town of Whylandra, not the Sydney CBD. And this is a child we’re discussing, not a business negotiation. There are no bonuses for reaching targets early.’
‘Believe me, I know.’ He speared a hand through his thick hair. ‘I’m only trying to do the best that I can for my ward.’
Astonishment held her silent. The sincerity of his voice, the earnest line between his brows, he appeared almost…human. She studied the computer screen. The heat was melting her defences, sucking the life out of her common sense. For a nanosecond she’d actually considered the possibility a heart beat beneath his designer shirt.
She’d once thought the same about her father.
‘Have you finalised a place to stay?’ she asked after a long moment.
‘Yes. Berrilea.’
An edge hardened his voice as though he were telling her information she should have already known. The accommodation details must have been in the unsalvageable paragraphs of the client notes.
Berrilea. She’d heard of little else but the historic property and its helicopter-flying city owner who was returning to the family home. Rumour had it that Whylandra’s only hair salon had doubled its business in the last week. Wait until the bush telegraph got wind that the very eligible bachelor had a ward in tow. Every maternal instinct in the district would be taken off the shelf and polished until it shone. Just as well her interest would be one of strict professionalism.
She bit the inside of her cheek and looked across at Tilly’s sweet flushed face as she played with Stardust and softly hummed. Exhaustion smudged dark bruises beneath her eyes. A single meeting with Mia would sentence the little girl to a three-hour round trip.
‘You couldn’t have picked a further away place to stay,’ she said. ‘Berrilea’s quite a drive from here.’
‘Yes, I know. That’s why your flexibility is much appreciated.’
What was he talking about? She was a speech pathologist, not a gymnast.
‘Of course,’ he said, ‘it goes without saying that I’ll make your co-operation financially worth your while.’
There it was. The single universal truth of her father’s world and of this man’s world. Money solved everything. A world she’d worked so hard to distance herself from.
‘That won’t be necessary.’ Mia was past caring if her words sounded abrupt. ‘It’s my job to help your niece the best way I can.’
She scrolled through the computer time-table. Blood throbbed in her ears. Her frayed nerves were unravelling as fast as the heat dried her blouse. She had to complete this assessment and get this man out of her office. She had to plug the leak on her memories.
On Monday she was heading to Sydney for a fortnight to work with a child called Matilda. Her old university mentor had sent an SOS that Mia hadn’t been able to ignore. Yesterday’s power surge had knocked out the internet as well as the air-conditioner and her travel details and paperwork were trapped in her inbox. But it would be safe to assume she’d have an opportunity to see Tilly before she left for the city.
‘Right, Tilly’s first appointment can be nine o’clock Monday morning.’ She threw Kade a quick glance. ‘Is that suitable?’
He nodded.
She entered Tilly’s details onto the computer. ‘The next appointment will be in two weeks, again at nine o’clock. We can discuss further dates then.’ She typed in the second appointment details and stood. Relief rendered her light-headed. ‘I believe we’re done.’
Kade too came to his feet. ‘Not so fast. I understood our arrangement provided more than a single initial appointment?’
‘Pardon?’
‘I understood that Tilly was to receive back-to-back intensive therapy?’
She squared her shoulders. His sub-zero tone wasn’t going to work on her. ‘We don’t have an arrangement.’
Other than for all future appointments you’ll be in the waiting room.
‘Didn’t you receive an email outlining the change in plans?’
‘Change of plans? I’ve received no email. The power surge didn’t only take out the air-conditioner, the internet is down too.’
His gaze narrowed before amusement kindled in his blue eyes.
She pulled her heavy hair off her forehead and fought the slow burn of her short fuse. The loss of her cyber-lifeline to the world had been no laughing matter. Today was day two of battling email-withdrawal symptoms.
‘Well, when it is working be sure to check Dr. Sheldon’s email,’ Kade said.
Her hair slipped through her fingers to fall around her face. ‘Dr. Sheldon? Dr. B–B– Bruce Sheldon from the University of Sydney?’
She didn’t need the return of her childhood stammer to confirm what every beat of her racing heart told her. She’d been again catapulted out of her comfort zone.
‘Yes, that’s the one.’ The left corner of Kade’s mouth lifted. He turned to his niece. ‘You’re looking forward to Ms. Windsor coming to stay at Berrilea with us for a fortnight, aren’t you, Matilda?’
Chapter Two
A CAR DOOR slammed outside Kade’s makeshift office in his grandmother’s old sitting room. He stretched his stiff arms above his head and leaned back in his chair. It would be nine o’clock. The indomitable Ms. Windsor would be right on time.
His arms lowered. He shouldn’t have doubted she’d not honour their agreement or have allowed the dismay widening her eyes at the realisation he and Tilly were her Sydney clients whisper to him that she’d not show. If he was a betting man he’d have wagered that nothing would rattle Ms. Windsor’s composure. But the prospect of her coming to Berrilea had for some reason drained all colour from her cheeks.
He stared unseeingly at the lap-top screen before him. He’d also have wagered the vulnerability that pinched her face wouldn’t have triggered a strange uneasiness within him. But it had. He’d barely time to honour the terms of his brother’s will, let alone ponder the shadows in a pair of pretty amber eyes.
Money is as important as breathing, son. Don’t ever lose focus.
Even out here, in the middle of nowhere, his father’s edict applied. He couldn’t afford to slow the momentum of Matchtec, the dating agency of the corporate world. Seth Black, his ambitious protégé, would have tried out the fit of his CEO chair before Kade had even turned the ignition key in his luxury car.
The door
bell rang. The tap of Mrs. Shepherd’s shoes sounded in the hall as his housekeeper heeded the call. Martha, the wife of his farm manager, Patrick, would show Ms. Windsor into the drawing room where Tilly had set up camp with all her books, toys and DVDs.
He pushed himself to his feet and quit the room. Five minutes would be all that it took to go downstairs and check Ms. Windsor had everything she required to do her job. Then he’d finish looking over the contract due on the Sydney lawyer’s desk within the hour.
He grasped the staircase balustrade as he descended the stairs two at a time. Things with his niece would soon be running as smoothly as the polished cedar sliding beneath his palm. Tilly’s speech would be understandable and finally their lives would diverge to run along separate well-oiled tracks. Dr. Sheldon had assured him Mia was the best speech pathologist he’d ever trained. He’d also praised her commitment and work ethic. Twice.
He reached the hallway. The sound of a woman’s and child’s mirth greeted him. His steps faltered. Dr. Sheldon had mentioned nothing about Mia’s laughter possessing a light-heartedness that echoed long after the musical notes faded. He continued walking. He had a corporation to run and a bottom-line to watch. He had no time for fun and frivolity. And neither did Ms. Windsor. He pushed open the drawing room door with a firm hand.
Beside Tilly, Ms. Windsor sat on the cream lounge, a poster girl for professionalism. Her curls were tamed into some sort of too-tight concoction on top of her head and instead of a damp blouse she now wore an immaculate blue-and-white checked shirt tucked into black trousers. At her feet rested a plastic green crate filled with colour-coded files. His tension eased. Ms. Windsor looked efficient, capable and not at all fun. Perfect.
‘Un–tle T–ade!’ Tilly leapt off the lounge, her grey eyes shining. He braced himself. Her tiny arms wrapped around his leg in a hug that seemed as though it would never finish. She pulled away and offered him her hand. Horror held him immobile. It was as though her simple gesture was an invitation, a summons. Come into my world.
His fingers twitched. He could no sooner take her hand than he could let her teddy bears have the picnic she was so intent on arranging in his office. Their worlds couldn’t merge. The only life he’d ever known was an adult one.
Tilly entwined her warm fingers in his. Ms. Windsor stood and smiled at his niece. He forgot Tilly’s hand in his and forgot the prickle of panic crawling over his skin. Ms. Windsor’s smile was the same smile that had stolen his breath in her office. The same true, sweet smile that made him forget where he was, who he was. It was a smile his grandmother had warmed him with a lifetime ago. A smile he wouldn’t ever receive again. He stiffened and slammed the lid shut on his memories. He had a contract to finish and a ward to disentangle from his life. He freed his fingers from Tilly’s grasp.
Ms. Windsor walked toward him. The soft fabric of her shirt clung to her feminine curves. The black trousers silhouetted the swell of her hips, the tapered slimness of her waist. He mentally slapped the back of his head. Focus.
He extended his right hand. ‘Welcome to Berrilea, Ms. Windsor.’
‘Thanks.’ Her slim fingers gripped his and then slipped from his hold. ‘Please, call me Mia.’
He nodded, blanking out the strange yearning that her smile wouldn’t have faded the instant their eyes met. ‘Mia it is. You had no trouble finding us?’
‘Apart from some kangaroos playing Russian roulette with my car, I had a clear run. I must apologise again for the confusion of last Friday, Dr. Sheldon’s email arrived along with all of his file notes. You can be sure I’m up to speed.’
‘Excellent.’ He glanced at Tilly who’d returned to the lounge to watch television. ‘It’s crucial my niece benefits as much as she can from your two weeks here.’
If possible the temperature of Mia’s gaze dropped. ‘You do remember what I said in my office, don’t you? There’s no quick-fix for a speech delay.’
‘How could I forget?’ He allowed a brief smile to cross his lips. ‘But surely after a fortnight there’ll be an improvement in how Tilly speaks and she’ll be easier to understand?’
‘I’ll make no guarantees. Each child’s therapy experience will be different. What I will say is we’ll work hard toward the goal of Tilly using ‘k’ and possibly the ‘g’ sound correctly.’
Mia mightn’t be wearing any heavy-framed glasses to look over the top of, but her stare was none the less lethal. He didn’t know whether to smile or scowl. In the corporate corridors of Matchtec he was king. He’d forgotten what it was like to be regarded with anything but deference. The novelty would soon wear off.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘to help you reach such a goal I’ve had the music room prepared for your use.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Don’t mention it. I’ve always found an organised and clutter-free work space crucial in maximising output.’
Yes.’ Laughter illuminated the golden shards of her brown eyes. ‘That pesky middle management can be prone to distraction.’
He rammed his hands on his hips. It also had been a long time since someone had laughed at him. ‘Middle management, it sounds like you know your way around an office?’
‘Something like that.’ The sparkle in her eyes dimmed. ‘Now, just to make everything clear, the work I’ll be doing with Tilly will be play-based.’
‘Play-based?’
‘Yes. Through play Tilly will learn, model and practise the new sounds. It is a documented fact that children learn better when they are having fun.’
‘Fun?’ He tried, and failed, to stop his lip from curling.
‘Yes. Fun.’ She swept a hand toward another plastic crate he hadn’t noticed on the floor beneath the table. ‘I know how you feel about toys but a share portfolio just won’t reap the same benefits as, say, Play-Doh.’
Foreboding flooded him. The second crate was filled to the brim with more items than just whatever Play-Doh was.
‘So knowing you want results, I brought every toy in my arsenal.’ Her saccharine tone suddenly had him craving sugar.
‘Every toy?’
‘Yes. Every. Single. One. Actually, there are another two crates in the car if you would be so kind as to bring them in?’
Frustration burned the back of his neck. Since when did a perfunctory quick meet-and-greet turn into a battle of wills? A battle he was fast losing.
‘Anything to help you get your job done.’ He contented himself with a fierce frown. ‘It goes without saying all toys will stay in the music room.’
Displeasure fired in her eyes but when she spoke her voice remained as silky as the melted caramel in his favourite dessert. ‘Again, I won’t make any guarantees. Tilly’s therapy will be conducted in formal as well as informal settings. But what I will say is we’ll do our best when out of the music room to not…distract you.’
‘I appreciate your thoughtfulness,’ he said, lips twisting. ‘Of course, it goes without saying I’m not prone to distraction. I’m upper management.’
‘Of course.’
He knew he should check his watch. His five-minute deadline had passed. He had a contract to finish. But he couldn’t look away from Mia’s unwavering gaze or suppress the suspicion that she simply didn’t like him.
He flexed his shoulders. It shouldn’t matter what one opinionated country girl thought of him. It wasn’t relevant that he could have said he was the head of the United Nations and still approval wouldn’t have softened the set of her lips. He really did have work to do. He glanced toward Tilly as she continued to watch television. And so did Mia.
‘Now if all you need to get started are the crates from your car, I’d like to return upstairs to my office,’ he said in his best CEO tone. ‘I believe we both have things to do.’
The sound of Kade’s firm steps faded from the drawing room. Mia released a deep breath. One minute she was doing all she could to not laugh out loud. She’d hadn’t ever heard anything more ridiculous than Kade comparing Tilly’s learning to speak
to the handling of middle management. The next, she had to seal her mouth shut to stop words escaping before they’d been sanctioned by her inner editor. She’d never been so close to saying something unprofessional.
She ran a quick hand over her hairspray-cemented hair and checked all her blouse buttons were secure. Physically, every crease and curl had been ironed flat. Her speech pathologist hat was wedged in place. Unlike in her office, her composure wasn’t supposed to be rattled. Her frustration at the uncle of her small client wasn’t supposed to undermine her professionalism.
She lifted the crate from the floor and placed it onto the floral tablecloth-covered table. So much for any doubts that her first impression of Kade may have been wrong. Every impatient inflexion of his voice had confirmed he hailed from a world she’d long ago forsaken. Her hands stilled on the top of the plastic crate. A world that favoured wealth and success over people and especially over family.
She glanced toward Tilly. The little girl’s pale lips were rounded with wonder as animated ponies danced across the television screen. Just like at their first appointment, a sense of connection plucked at Mia’s heart-strings. Thanks to her own speech struggles she always bonded with her clients, but with Tilly her empathy ran much deeper. The common denominator between them was far more than unintelligible words and the loss of a mother as a child. They both occupied the same position on the bottom rung of the priority ladder. Emotion formed a wedge in Mia’s throat. She had to do all that she could to help Tilly survive the inevitable hurt associated with having an emotionally unavailable care-giver. And she’d start now.
Mia selected a folded white cloth from the items in the crate and walked over to Tilly. ‘My rumbling tummy’s telling me it will be morning tea time soon. How about we make some popcorn?’
Tilly’s answering smile shone sunflower bright. She clambered off the lounge, the television show forgotten. Mia shook the white cloth open into a child-sized chef’s hat. Kade could disapprove all he wanted but she wasn’t sentencing Tilly to a clutter-free classroom. She had a far cosier place planned for Tilly’s introductory lesson.
What Love Sounds Like Page 2