by Robyn Grady
Wynn rapped a set of fingertips on the counter. “Is your manager in?”
A little girl, around April’s age, had wandered out from a room adjoining the reception area. She tugged on Mick’s sleeve. “Daddy, wanna help me color?”
Mick called the manager before combing a palm over his daughter’s wispy fair hair. “Hang on, peaches.”
After a three-hour drive, Grace was simply happy to be here. She didn’t care what kind of room they had. She certainly didn’t want to upset that little girl.
Setting a forearm on the counter, Mick leaned closer. “I can do a great deal on that room, but all the suites are taken.”
Another man strolled out. Introducing himself as the manager, he enquired, “Is there a problem?”
As Mick explained and Wynn put his objection forward, Grace stepped back. The manager was apologetic. Then, when he realized who Wynn was—the Hunter family was legendary in Australia—he was doubly so. When Mick got tongue-tied—he couldn’t explain the missing email or botched booking—the little girl crept back and hid behind that door. Her chocolate-brown eyes were wide. She had no idea what the problem was, why her daddy was upset.
Wynn saw her too and held up his hands. “Don’t worry,” he said. “We’ll take that room.”
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Hunter,” the manager said again.
Wynn took the key card. When they reached their compact double room on the ground floor, Grace was curious.
Wynn dropped his cell phone on a table. “Not what I had in mind.”
“You weren’t happy.”
“I’m not a fan of incompetence.”
“You wanted to tell them both that.”
“I think I had a right.”
“But you didn’t.” She moved over. “Why not?”
He shrugged. “No point.”
“It was because of that little girl, wasn’t it? You saw her watching so you dropped it.”
“It wasn’t that big of a deal, Grace.”
Grinning, she trailed a fingertip around his scratchy jaw. “You backed off.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “You like a man who backs down?”
“For those kinds of reasons, absolutely.” She circled her finger around the warm hollow at the base of his throat. “You can be quite chivalrous, do you know that?”
“As opposed to what you thought of me as a kid.” His hands skimmed down her sides. “You didn’t think that I was behaving in a gentlemanly fashion back then, remember?”
“Except whenever I teased you, no matter how much you wanted to belt me, you always walked away.”
His lips twitched as he moved in closer. “I remember at least one time when Cole needed to hold me back.”
Standing on her toes, she brushed the tip of her nose against his. “Face it, Wynn Hunter. You’re one of the good guys.”
“Uh-uh.” He angled his head to nip her lower lip. “I’m bad to the bone.”
Before she let him kiss her, she admitted, “But in a very good way.”
* * *
Two hours later, Grace was gazing upon the most incredible site she could ever have imagined. And this place was used for wedding ceremonies? Wow.
Wynn had bought tickets for a tour of the Lucas Cave, the most popular of the three hundred forty million-year-old Jenolan Caves, which were within walking distance of the hotel. After climbing hundreds of steps, they entered an anteroom and then the Cathedral Chamber, which soared to a staggering fifty-four meters at its highest point. It reminded her of that scene out of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer.
Grace instantly forgot the muscle burn from the climb as she stood in the midst of such amazing limestone formations. Some looked like stained glass windows. The guide pointed out a limestone bell tower and a pulpit, too.
The chamber could accommodate up to one hundred guests and the acoustics were apparently perfect; orchestras and a local Aboriginal band regularly entertained audiences here. When the guide wanted to show how disorientating the caves could become without electricity, she turned out the lights. As they were dropped into darkness, Grace gripped Wynn’s arm while he chuckled and held her tight.
Farther along the flights of narrow stairs that wove through the caverns, the temperature dropped and they were introduced to formations that looked like sheets of white lace, as well as ribbons of stalactites that flared with reddish-orange hues. In another cave, pure white calcite formations looked like icicles dripping from the ceiling and snow-dusted firs sprouting up from the ground.
When they emerged from the cave and were greeted by warm sunshine again, they walked hand in hand around the fern-bordered Blue Lake, which was, indeed, a heavenly, untouched deep blue. They spotted a platypus; Grace stood spellbound as the mammal, which looked like a cross between a duck and an otter, wiggled around the bank, foraging for food. As they approached a group of wallabies, she expected them all to hop away. One actually let her brush a palm over its supersoft fur and look into those liquid black eyes. Later, however, she was more than a little hesitant, skirting around the frozen, guarded posture of a dragon lizard.
She flicked on her phone’s camera, snapped a few shots of the wildlife and sent them straight through to April via her mom’s cell. Grace got a reply back a minute later. April wanted to know if her auntie could bring home a wallaby.
Back at the hotel, she and Wynn showered and changed for dinner at a nearby first-class restaurant. Thankfully there weren’t any hiccups with reservations this time.
They were halfway through their meal when conversation turned to work. Wynn had asked about her studies.
“Before getting my masters,” she said, “I had dreams of starting my own practice.”
“What does a person need to study to get a license for speech therapy?”
“Speech-language pathology. I learned about anatomy, physiology, the development of the areas of the body involved in language, speech and swallowing.”
“Did you say swallowing?”
“People don’t tend to realize how important it is.”
He grinned. “I’ve always been a fan.”
Setting down his cutlery, Wynn reached for his glass. He’d chosen a wine produced in Victoria—an exquisite light white. After forking more of the creamy scalloped potato into her mouth, Grace picked up the thread of their conversation.
“We studied the nature of disorders, acoustics, as well as the psychological side of things. Then we explored how to evaluate and treat problems.”
“I knew a boy who stuttered. Aaron Fenway could barely get his name out. It must have been tough. But it didn’t seem to faze him. He was always top of the class at math.”
“Sounds like my younger sister. A head for figures.”
“Aaron owns a huge dot-com now.”
“Bruce Willis and Nicole Kidman stuttered. Winston Churchill and Shaquille O’Neal, too.”
“I’m trying to imagine anyone being brave enough to tease Shaquille.”
“Apparently, when Shaquille was a kid, he’d sit in class, sweating over whether the teacher would ask him a question. He knew he wouldn’t be able to get the words out.”
“Must make you feel good, helping.” Wynn set down his glass. “The business I’m in doesn’t have that kind of reputation, I’m afraid.”
“News needs to be told. It’s a noble profession.”
“It can be. Lots of challenges ahead of us there, though. More and more readers are getting their news off the Net.”
“So, what’s the future?”
“Keep our eyes open to all the options. Change is the one constant. We need to look at cutting costs on the print side. Factory and distribution overheads. I’m talking with someone at the moment.”
“To share those costs?”
“More t
han that. We’re looking to merge parts of our companies.”
“Ooh, sounds very highflier.”
“And very confidential. Not even my father knows.”
She studied his expression and put down her fork. “You don’t look as if you’re punching the air about telling him.”
“Guthrie’s idea of building success is to buy out the opposition or run them out of business. He doesn’t merge.”
“Isn’t that your decision? You run Hunter Publishing now.”
“For things to go smoothly, I need his approval.” He pushed his plate aside. “And I need it soon. Better to explain face-to-face.”
“Sometime this week?” He nodded. “Maybe keep it for after the wedding.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
After the meal, the young waitress served coffee and asked if they’d enjoyed the tours.
“I saw you this afternoon,” the waitress explained, “wandering back from the Grand Arch.”
Grace well remembered the Arch. According to the guide, while that particular cave had collapsed many centuries ago, the giant rock arch of the original structure remained—a truly awe-inspiring sight.
Grace sighed. “It was all amazing.”
“Did anyone mention the ghosts?” the waitress asked, setting down the cups.
Wynn’s lips twitched. “We missed that tour.”
But Grace remembered seeing a mysteries and ghosts tour outlined on a brochure.
“There’s evidence of strange things happening down there—photographs and videos.” The waitress lowered her voice. “There’s even supposed to be a ghost living right here, in this restaurant.”
“Does she float around the town, as well,” Wynn asked, “rattling her teapot?”
“If she does,” the waitress said, “don’t worry. She’s friendly.”
Later, when Grace and Wynn were back at their hotel and entering their room, Wynn suddenly grabbed her from behind, around the waist. Grace’s heart leapt to the ceiling before, spinning around, she smacked his shoulder and, heart pounding, turned on the lights. Why did guys think stuff like that was funny? It wasn’t—or at least not when she’d imagined the sound of footfalls following them up the street. She might have heard a teapot rattle, too.
“You’re such a child.”
He laughed as she strode off. “Oh, I’m a child? Will we leave on a night-light tonight?”
“I’d love to see how smart you’d be if a ghost sailed through that door right now and poured cold tea all over your head.”
He followed her. “So you believe all that haunted house woo-ha.” Lashing an arm around her middle, he growled against her lips, “Good thing I’m here to protect you.”
Refusing to grin, she set her palms on his chest, which seemed to have grown harder and broader since the last time they’d made this kind of contact.
“I have an open mind. I can also look after myself.”
“Just letting you know,” he said, lowering his head to nuzzle her neck, “I’m here if you need me.” He nuzzled lower. “For anything.” His hand curved over her behind. “Anything at all.”
Her eyes had drifted shut. Damn the man. She couldn’t stay mad.
“You want to help?” she asked.
“Want me to order a medium? Organize a séance? Sprinkle some salt on the threshold?”
She grabbed his shirt and tugged him toward the cozy double bed. “You’re going to help me with a whole lot more than that.”
Ten
“Promise me one thing,” Grace said.
Wynn squeezed her hand. “Anything?”
“No stunt today like the one you pulled at that other wedding.”
When she and Wynn had returned from their magical stay at the Blue Mountains with a hundred snaps and a thousand memories, the final preparations for Cole and Taryn’s big day were in full swing. They’d watched the extensive back lawn and gardens being pruned to perfection. A giant fairy-tale marquee had shot up and the furnishings had been arranged both inside and out.
Now Grace looked around at the marquee’s ceiling draped with white silk swags and the fountains of flowers, as the sixty or so guests took their seats on either side of a red-carpeted aisle.
Beside her, Wynn wore a tuxedo in a way that would impress James Bond. Now, responding to her request that he behave himself, he sent her a wicked grin and stage whispered, “No surprise kiss in front of the multitudes? Why? Can’t handle it?”
She tugged his ear. “Mister, I can handle anything you care to dish out.”
“Except letting people know that there might be more.”
“More of what?”
“More to us.”
That took her aback. What did he mean more? They were here in Australia, doing exactly as he’d suggested: relaxing and enjoying themselves. There wasn’t any more to it.
Or she was reading too much into his words. That tease was more likely a warning that she shouldn’t become too complacent. He just might shock the crowd again. She had news for him.
“Just remember whose show this is, okay?”
“Yep.” The corners of his smoldering eyes crinkled. “Can’t handle it.”
When he leaned closer, she put on a business-only face and dusted imaginary lint from his broad shoulders. “Time you went and joined your brothers at the altar.”
He gave her a curious look. “You think so?”
She hesitated before laughing. He was acting so strangely today.
“You look amazing in that dress,” he said.
“You told me,” she grinned. “Maybe ten times.”
He tipped close and took a light but lingering kiss that brought a mist to her eyes. His warm palm curved around her cheek. “You’ll be here when I get back?”
She wanted to laugh again, but his gaze was suddenly so serious.
“Yes,” she said and softly smiled. “I’ll be right here. I promise.”
* * *
On Wynn’s way to the platform where Cole and Dex waited, Guthrie pulled him aside to introduce a couple who seemed familiar, in more ways than one.
“Son, you remember Vincent and Kirsty Riggs,” Guthrie said with his father-of-the-groom smile firmly in place.
“Of course.” Wynn shook Vincent’s hand and nodded a greeting at the wife. “Nice to see you both again.”
Mr. Riggs’s expression was humble. “Christopher’s so pleased that you’ve allowed him this chance in New York.”
“I’m sure he’ll be an asset to the company,” Wynn replied.
“We should catch up after the ceremony,” Vincent went on. “I’d like to know what you have in store for him.”
“But right now,” Mrs. Riggs said, nodding at the altar, “you have an important job to do.”
“Guthrie mentioned that Dex will be joining his older brother soon,” Vincent said, “tying the knot.”
When Vincent flicked a glance Grace’s way and waited for some kind of response, Wynn only grinned and replied, “It’s true. Dex will soon be a married man. Another reason to celebrate.” Wynn bowed off. “Please excuse me.”
Strolling up to the platform, Wynn concentrated on the task ahead. He and Dex were to stand beside the oldest Hunter brother as he took this important step in his life. But another related thought kept knocking around in his brain.
After that initial hiccup with their booking, he and Grace had enjoyed every second of their time away in the mountains. They’d explored, eaten out, talked a lot and when they weren’t otherwise engaged, made love. He had assumed the constant physical desire would, in some way, slack off. Anything but. His need to feel her curled up around him, have his mouth working together with hers, had been a constant. He understood sexual attraction, but he and Grace seemed to have
created their own higher meaning.
Ever since he’d been here, when he and Cole and Dex sat down at the end of the day with a beer, he listened to their banter about how much they looked forward to settling down, and the ache he’d suffered after that bust-up with Heather had begun to fester again. In the past, whenever he’d looked ahead, Heather had been there, standing alongside him. But seeing Grace tonight in that knockout strapless red gown with the sweetest of all sweetheart necklines, silver bangles jangling on both wrists and her eyes filled with sass and life...
He didn’t want a relationship, and yet he and Grace were doing a darn fine imitation of having one. A moment ago, after he’d hinted at perhaps wanting more, for just a second, he’d meant it. But he didn’t need to go down that track again. Why rock a perfectly happy boat?
He was nearing the platform when another guest stopped him—a tall, well-built man in his twenties.
“You’re Wynn, right?” the man asked.
“We’ve met?”
“I’m Sebastian Styles.”
Wynn thought back and then apologized. “No light bulb, I’m afraid.”
“Talbot’s son.”
Wynn had known to expect his long-lost cousin today, but no one had passed on a name. And while the brothers had speculated, no one seemed to know the story behind this surprise addition to the Hunter line. Which wasn’t a problem. Sebastian Styles was family now and more than welcome.
As the men shook hands, Wynn confirmed, “Good to meet you.”
“I wasn’t sure whether Guthrie had explained my sudden arrival on the scene.”
“Only that you’d caught up with your father.”
The rest really wasn’t any of Wynn’s business. He glanced toward the platform—he needed to take his place alongside his brothers right now.
“I’ve heard plenty about you,” Sebastian was saying, “and your brothers. Can I join you for a drink after the ceremony?”
“I look forward to it.”
Wynn skirted around the front section of chairs, which were filling with guests, and came to stand alongside Dex—three Hunter brothers all in a row.
Assuming the apparently obligatory “hands clasped in front” stance, he asked the others, “We set to go?”