Their polite, businesslike exchange was eminently sensible, but Sally mourned the loss of the sizzle that had scorched between them during her previous visits.
I can’t complain. I told him this was what I wanted.
She vowed to squash any lusty thoughts as they carried the panels into the house and laid them carefully, still wrapped, in a safe corner.
‘So what do you think of the progress?’
They were in the front living room and Sally turned, looking around her, past a trestle strung between ladders, to the back of the house.
‘Oh, wow! You’ve taken out the kitchen wall.’
The big timber archway still divided the lounge and dining rooms, but she could see all the way to the back wall of the house.
‘I’ve been studying those magazines of yours and I decided to open everything up, to make the main living space into one big area.’
‘It’s fantastic. It feels huge now. With the high ceilings, it’s enormous.’ Sally hurried to the kitchen area and looked back. ‘Wow! Anyone working in the kitchen can look right through the whole space to the French doors and the verandah and beyond. The view seems endless now. I can’t believe what a difference it makes.’
‘The floor’s box wood so it should come up nicely.’
‘Yes, lovely. What about the walls? Have you decided on a colour?’
‘I’m thinking I might stick to white. A pure semi-gloss white for the ceiling and trims and something a bit softer, more of an antique white for the walls.’
Sally was grinning as she looked around, imagining the final result. ‘It’s going to be gorgeous. Honestly, it’ll be amazing, Luke. Really modern without spoiling the traditional Queenslander feel.’
He looked quietly chuffed and she would have loved to rush over to him and plant a congratulatory kiss on his cheek.
‘Think of the parties you could throw here,’ she said instead. ‘All this space inside, and then the verandahs, spilling out into the garden.’
‘It’s hardly a garden.’
‘Well, it will be a garden one day.’
Luke lifted an eyebrow. ‘Do you like throwing parties?’
‘Love it.’
Oh, God. As soon as she said that, Sally’s mind zapped to the last party she’d thrown, the one party that she could never forget: the evening when all her friends were excitedly hiding in the flat, waiting for Josh to arrive.
Once again, she felt the rush of terror that had arrived with the police on her doorstep.
‘Sally, are you okay?’
‘Sorry.’ She gave a little shake, trying to black out the memory – for now at least – and she flashed Luke an extra-bright smile. ‘To be honest, I do like throwing parties, as long as I don’t have to do all the cooking.’
But although Luke nodded, acknowledging her response, he’d apparently opted to change the subject. Crossing to a small workbench, he picked up a magazine – one of the ones Sally had left with him.
‘The tricky part for me is trying to decide on the kitchen.’
He flicked the magazine open at a well-thumbed page showing an attractive country-style kitchen with a traditional freestanding dresser painted white, and open shelves displaying an arrangement of bottles and decanters and all kinds of kitchen odds and ends. In front of the dresser there was an ancient, slightly battered, solid timber table and an eclectic collection of unpainted timber chairs.
‘That has a nice nostalgic feel,’ Sally said. ‘I think it would work really well here. My dad deals in antiques. If you like, I could get him to look out for a really lovely dresser.’
‘That could be handy,’ Luke agreed. ‘But see what you think of this one.’ He flipped to a double-page spread of a stunning, sleek and very modern kitchen with fitted cupboards. Everything was gleaming white and streamlined with acres of pale stone benchtops.
‘Oh, yum.’ Sally widened her eyes as she considered Luke’s dilemma. ‘Now that is rave-worthy.’
She glanced up at him, caught his bright gaze fixed on her. Flustered, she looked down quickly to the magazine and hoped her cheeks weren’t flaming like distress beacons.
‘Or there’s another option,’ Luke said in his slow, easy drawl, putting the magazine aside. ‘It’s a compromise, I guess, but I was thinking of an island bench like that modern one, sheeted with tongue and groove panelling like the walls here. I’d probably paint it the same off-white as the walls and maybe give the cupboards the same treatment.’
‘With open shelves on the wall to give it that country feel,’ Sally added with a grin.
‘I hadn’t thought of that, but it would work, wouldn’t it?’
‘I think it would be perfect.’ Sally restrained from dancing a little jig, but she was genuinely excited. ‘A lovely modern kitchen, but still totally in tune with this old homestead. Wow, I can just picture it, Luke – maybe with thick, honey-toned timber benchtops rather than stone.’
He grinned. ‘Perhaps I should show you my ideas for the bathrooms while you’re here.’
‘Absolutely. Lead the way.’
It was fun, way too much fun. Sally had never before enjoyed these kinds of conversations with a male. Josh had always seemed to resent any talk about houses or interior décor.
‘I have no idea about that stuff,’ he used to say, almost as if he felt it would somehow diminish his masculinity. ‘I’ll trust your judgement, Sal.’
It had meant there were no arguments, of course, but Sally had found it rather lonely trawling around furniture stores on her own and having to choose items like sofas and bedside lamps without any consultation.
And here was Luke going through the same solitary process.
‘You’ve been working so hard on the house,’ she commented as they left the bathroom. ‘And now you also have these extra cattle to look after for your uncle. It’s a lot to take on.’
Luke shrugged. ‘I’m getting loads of experience, having to figure everything out for myself.’
‘But it must be lonely working out here on your own.’
They were standing in the hallway now and wariness crept back into Luke’s eyes.
‘I’ll have company soon,’ he said. ‘A plumber and a tiler for the bathrooms.’
But Sally was thinking of the long, lonely nights. She’d experienced enough of them to know how hard they could be. ‘You don’t even have a dog to keep you company.’
A dark colour stained Luke’s neck and for the longest moment he stood very still, watching her, his expression stern and impossible to read.
Her stomach tightened. She’d probably put her foot in it well and truly. Everything had been okay when they were talking about the house . . . but this was too personal. They were supposed to have set all this kind of awkwardness behind them.
‘Stuff it,’ Luke muttered abruptly, almost under his breath, and he reached above him and gripped a lintel bridging the hallway.
With his arms extended, he leaned towards Sally, his eyes lit by a surprisingly fierce glow. ‘This isn’t working, is it?’
‘I – I – what isn’t?’
‘You know what I’m talking about . . . us.’
21
Us . . .
The tiny word, so loaded with meaning, sent a shiver through Sally . . . a mix of nerves and gathering excitement.
‘We need a little honesty here.’ Luke eyed her sternly. ‘We’ve never really talked about that night, have we?’
‘After the ball?’
‘Exactly.’ He let go of the lintel and his hands swung down to rest lightly on his hips. ‘You said it was casual, which was fair enough, until you told me you were a widow and it was all a big mistake.’
‘Not – not a mistake, exactly.’
Luke’s gaze was fixed on her now, not missing a millisecond of her reaction. ‘But it was casual?’ he clarified.
Slowly, Sally nodded.
‘Casual usually means occasional . . . now and again.’
‘Now and –’ She swall
owed quickly. ‘What are you suggesting?’
It was a foolish question. She knew exactly what he was suggesting, and the knowledge sent heat rioting through her, kickstarting her heart, scrambling her thoughts.
While she was coming undone, however, Luke seemed more at ease. He leaned a bulky shoulder against a doorframe. ‘I’m suggesting that you and I can keep everything cool and super-casual, and repeat that night on a casual, occasional basis.’
Sounds perfect, she wanted to say, but her voice didn’t seem to be working. She tried again, but she was still forming the words when Luke stepped closer, set a hand beneath her chin, lifted her face . . .
For an exquisite second their gazes met and she read the silent, heated message in his eyes. Gently, he lifted a strand of hair that had fallen over her face and then he brushed his lips over hers, ever so softly, teasing her mouth with the briefest and sweetest caress.
‘We can start with a casual kiss,’ he murmured.
‘Mmm . . .’ was all she could manage. She was already melting, swaying towards him.
Fortunately, his arms came around her at just the right moment and she sank against him, taking pleasure in his muscled strength and catching the scent of the outdoors on his skin.
When their lips met again, he reached for her hips and pulled her against him, heat seeking heat.
Ohhh.
She’d forgotten how dead sexy his body was, how amazing his kisses felt and tasted. When she slipped her arms around his neck, he deepened his kiss by slow degrees and longing coiled and spiralled inside her.
I’ve missed this . . .
She’d missed the excitement and the comfort, the closeness and the tenderness and even the wildness . . . and she’d missed Luke, who was in so many ways her ideal lover, easygoing and sexy, tender and passionate – the perfect combo.
All she wanted was to glory in his kisses, to revel in his touch and in his sexy confidence. She wanted to burn off the doubts and the questions and to simply feel and respond, as now, trailing kisses over her neck, he began to undo the buttons on her shirt.
Against her warming skin, he murmured, ‘Just a little casual undressing . . .’
And if there had ever been a reason to stop him, she could no longer remember what it was. When he slipped her shirt from her shoulders, she was aching with need, arching into him, sighing with pleasure as his hands cupped her breasts.
She wanted this man – needed him . . . and as he steered her in a lazy, shuffling twostep towards the open doorway of the bedroom, she was already lost in a mist of longing. No matter how he whistled, she would dance to his tune.
The swag was still that – just a swag, little more than a slim mattress on a bare wood floor in the puddle of sunlight from an uncurtained window, but luckily Sally didn’t seem to be fussy.
Take it slowly, man, Luke warned himself.
Not so easy, given that he’d been going quietly insane since her arrival this morning. Every time he’d caught her smiling at him he’d felt his heart turn over. And now . . .
Now Luke believed in miracles, for here was Sally in his bed, wriggling out of her jeans, flashing her long, slender legs, as pale as the moon.
She was smiling at him as she kicked her jeans free and rolled towards him, a heart-stopping picture of pink, white and auburn perfection.
Almost too perfect to touch . . . but he managed . . .
Take it easy, he warned himself again, as he let his hand glide from the smooth curve of her hip to the silky dip of her waist and then, tracing upwards, to the soft swell of her breast.
‘Have you any idea how gorgeous you are?’ His voice was rough around the edges.
She went pink. ‘Have you?’
Choking back a laugh, he kissed her shoulder, her neck, her chin, her mouth, nipping gently at her soft lower lip. ‘You taste gorgeous, too.’
Playful now, she rubbed her nose against his. ‘Must be the river water I swallowed.’
‘You know I nearly drowned in that damn river. I was going so crazy with wanting you.’
‘Poor Luke.’ She grazed her teeth along his jaw and sent his blood pounding. ‘Do you remember what you said about kissing me senseless?’
‘How could I forget?’
‘That wouldn’t be casual exactly.’
‘Maybe senseless was taking it a bit far.’
‘Let’s find out.’
As he kissed her now, he wondered, momentarily, about her dead husband and the hundreds of times they must have made love. But as his lips found her breasts she made a soft sound of yearning and any thoughts about her past quickly melted in the fever of here and now.
Take it easy, man . . .
But Sally was impatient.
In no time their kisses and caresses grew hotter and bolder and she went a little wild beneath his touch, responding with writhing excitement to his every stroke, to every lavished intimacy.
She made him feel like a god.
‘Luke!’ The cry broke from her as she bucked and trembled and then lay still, while her heart raced beneath him.
But within moments, she was kissing him again, running her hands over his bare chest.
‘Hey, slow down. I’m in charge today.’ Smiling, he reached for her seeking hands and lifted them above her head, pinning them there as he kissed her.
She didn’t try to argue and as their kisses gave way to a needier urgency, she clung to him, wrapping her legs around him and lifting her hips, urgently, sweetly beseeching . . .
Of course, there was nothing casual about the finale as their bodies locked together, building, building, until it seemed impossible to go higher . . . and yet he took them to the very brink . . . to the peak, to the ultimate, heart-stopping starburst.
‘That was . . .’ Sally began and then stopped, partly because she was still panting for breath, but also because she couldn’t quite find the right word. Nice was far too bland. Amazing could sound a bit over the top, as if her past experiences were somehow lacking. Moving might make her sound like a nervy type.
In the end, it didn’t matter, because Luke turned to her with a smile and said, ‘Yeah, it was, wasn’t it?’
She loved that he understood.
22
Moonlight Plains, 1942
Kitty stood on the homestead’s front steps and refused to cry as she watched Ed’s figure growing smaller and smaller.
At one point he turned and waved his hand high over his head and she caught the flash of his smile. A moment later he was gone.
She knew she would never see him again and perhaps her reaction was melodramatic, but she was quite sure she could actually feel her heart breaking.
Fortunately, she was soon distracted by her great-uncle’s return from Charters Towers. He arrived on horseback very soon after Ed left – in fact, he’d actually crossed paths with Ed and so he’d heard the whole story of the crash on his property and Bobby’s death, and he’d already ridden past Bobby’s grave.
‘I offered Captain Langley one of my horses,’ Jim Martin told her. ‘But he said he couldn’t ride. He only knew how to fly.’
Kitty’s mouth twisted as she attempted to smile. ‘He’s from the city. From Boston. He knows nothing about horses.’
‘At least he has a sense of humour.’
Kitty wished she’d seen more of the humorous side of Ed. There hadn’t been much chance for it during their short acquaintance.
‘But will he be all right?’ she asked.
Her great-uncle nodded. ‘He was almost at our neighbours’. They’ve got a truck and petrol and I know they’ll take him into town to phone.’
Apparently, Ed had also sung Kitty’s praises, but that hadn’t stopped her great-uncle from worrying about her.
‘I should never have left you alone,’ he said, over and over, as she poured him a huge mug of strong, sweet tea and assured him for the umpteenth time that she hadn’t come to any harm.
‘I was only scared at first until I knew they were American
s.’
‘But you thought they might have been Japs?’
‘I wasn’t sure.’
‘Oh, Kitty.’
‘And of course, it was just awful when Bobby died.’ Talking about it still hurt. ‘With the creeks up, there was nothing we could do. We felt so helpless.’ She dashed at her tears with a corner of her apron.
Uncle Jim looked grave. ‘War and death go hand in hand, I’m afraid, but that’s for bloody soldiers to deal with, not a young girl like you.’
‘I was never in any danger really.’
‘I can see that, lass, but still . . . alone with strangers . . .’ Worry hovered like a shadowing hawk in her great-uncle’s light-blue eyes.
Kitty guessed the real cause of his concern. ‘The Americans were perfect gentlemen, so you don’t need to worry on that score.’
A faint smile came and went. ‘Well, I’m not going to doubt your word, lass. I certainly don’t want to carry on like that drongo brother of mine.’ He gave an angry shake of his head. ‘Alex should never have sent you out here. What was he thinking, sending a young lass out into the bush in the middle of a war?’
‘He was thinking of you,’ Kitty reminded him. ‘He knew you were here on your own and you needed help with the housework.’
‘Like hell he was thinking of me. His head was full of fire and brimstone and he was gripped by the damn-fool notion that you needed to be protected from the Yanks.’
Kitty was grateful that her great-uncle had never been fully informed about the embarrassing circumstances that had led to her banishment. No doubt her grandfather had been too mortified to share the details of her shameful fall from grace.
Now, Jim shook his head again and rocked back in his chair. Then, to her surprise, he slapped at his thigh and chuckled. ‘I suppose I can laugh about it now. Here you are, supposed to be safe in the back of beyond, like someone out of the Dark Ages, a princess locked in a tower.’ His amusement bubbled over and he let out a great guffaw. ‘And the Yanks turned up on our bloomin’ doorstep anyhow.’
Kitty wished she could laugh. But now that Ed had gone she felt as if she was dangling by a very thin thread. She’d grown up in a dreadful rush during the past two days. She’d learned painful truths about the fragility of life, and she very much feared that she’d fallen in love.
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