The Girl he Never Noticed

by Lindsay Armstrong

  Thanks to the computer program Liz had set up for Bob, and her involvement in the stables, it wasn’t all double Dutch to her. She was even able to describe several of the latest foals that had been born in the past few weeks.

  That was when she realised that all the guests had come to view the latest crop of yearlings Yewarra had bred.

  It grew on Liz that the vibrant woman—her name was Vanessa—with her golden pageboy hair, her scarlet lips and nails, her trim figure and toffee-coloured eyes, was a little curious about her. Twice she had surprised those unusual eyes resting on her speculatively.

  And twice Liz had found herself thinking, If you’re wondering about me in the context of Cam Hillier, Vanessa, that’s nothing to my utter confusion on the subject! But what are you doing here? A new girlfriend? No, that doesn’t make sense. But…

  Finally the evening came to an end, and all the guests went to bed.

  Liz retreated to the kitchen, to find it empty and gleaming. She breathed a sigh of relief and poured herself a glass of water. Daisy had obviously been a tower of strength in the kitchen tonight.

  Something prompted her to go out through the kitchen door and wander through the herb garden that was Mrs Preston’s pride and joy until she came to the lip of the valley.

  It was only a gradual decline at that point, but it was protected by a low hedge and was an amazing spot to star-gaze. There was even a bench, and she sank down onto it and stared upwards, with her lips parted in amazement at the heavenly firmament above her.

  That was how Cam Hillier found her.

  ‘One of my favourite spots, too,’ he murmured as he sat down beside her. ‘I was looking for you. Put your glass down,’ he instructed.

  Liz opened her mouth to question this, but did as she was told instead, and he handed her a glass of champagne.

  ‘You hardly had a mouthful of wine at dinner, and there’s a refreshing quality to a glass of bubbly at the end of the day. Cheers!’ He touched his glass to hers.

  ‘Cheers,’ Liz repeated, but sounded notably subdued—which she was. Subdued, tired, and entirely unsure how to cope with Cam Hillier.

  ‘What’s up?’ he queried.

  Liz took a large sip. ‘Brrr…’ She shook her head, but found her tongue suddenly loosened. ‘Up? I don’t know. I have no idea. If you were to ask me what’s going on I wouldn’t be able to tell you. I’m mystified. I’m bothered and bewildered. That’s what’s up,’ she finished.

  He laughed softly. ‘OK, I’ll tell you. We got into a verbal stoush the last time we met.’

  She made a slight strangled sound.

  He stopped, but she said nothing so he went on. ‘Yes, a war of words after a rather lovely interlude, when I made an unfortunate remark which incensed you and you slammed your way inside, whilst I slammed my way back to Sydney in the dead of night, where I remained, incensed, for some days.’

  He paused and went on with an entirely unexpected tinge of remorse, ‘I don’t very often get said no to—which may account for my lack of graciousness or my pure bloody-mindedness when it does happen. What do you think?’

  ‘I…’ Liz paused, then found she couldn’t go on as a lone tear traced down her cheek. She licked the saltiness off her upper lip.

  ‘I mean,’ he went on after a long moment, ‘would I be able to mend some fences between us?’

  ‘I can’t…I can’t move in with you,’ she said, her voice husky with emotion. ‘Surely you must see that?’

  ‘No, I don’t. Why not?’

  ‘I’d…’ She hesitated, and breathed in the scent of mint from the herb garden, ‘I wouldn’t feel right. Anyway—’ She stopped helplessly.

  ‘Liz, surely by now you must appreciate that you have a rather amazing effect on me?’

  ‘You don’t show it.’ It was out before she could help herself.

  ‘When?’

  ‘Earlier. When we first met.’ She clicked her tongue, because that wasn’t what she’d meant or wanted to say, and moved restlessly. ‘I even wondered if you’d brought Vanessa up here to…to taunt me.’

  ‘Much as I don’t mind the thought of you being jealous of Vanessa,’ he said dryly, ‘she’s happily married to a champion jockey who rarely socialises on account of his weight battles.’

  Liz flinched. ‘Sorry,’ she murmured.

  ‘Have another sip,’ he advised. ‘What would you do if I told you that, along with wanting to stick pins into an Ice Queen effigy, I haven’t been able to sleep. I’ve been a monster to work with. I kept thinking of how good you felt in my arms. I kept undressing you in my mind. Incidentally, how have your few days been?’

  Liz swallowed as she recalled her days—as she thought of how she’d exchanged the swings for the roundabouts in her emotions. Round and round, up and down she’d been, as she’d alternated between maintaining her anger and wondering if he was right. Was it time to let go of her past and try to live again? Was she being unnecessarily melodramatic and tragic? But of course that hadn’t been all she’d grappled with over the week.

  There’d been memories of the pleasure he’d brought to her, memories of the man himself and how he could be funny and outrageously immodest when he wasn’t being an arrogant multi-millionaire. How he was so good with kids—the last thing she’d have suspected of him when she’d gone to work for him. All the little things she couldn’t banish that made up Cam Hillier.

  ‘I was…a little uneven myself,’ she admitted, barely audibly.

  ‘Good.’

  She looked askance at him. ‘Good?’

  ‘I’d hate to think I was suffering alone.’

  For some reason this caused Liz to chuckle—a watery little sound, but nonetheless a sound of amusement. ‘You’re incorrigible,’ she murmured, and with a sigh of something like resignation she laid her head on his shoulder.

  But she raised it immediately to look into his eyes. ‘Where do we go from here, though?’ There was real perturbation in her voice. ‘I still can’t move in with you.’

  ‘There is another option.’ He picked up her free hand and threaded his fingers through hers. ‘You could marry me.’

  Liz stiffened in disbelief. ‘I can’t just marry you!’

  ‘There seems to be a hell of a lot you can’t do,’ he said dryly. ‘What can you do?’

  She went to get up and run as far away from him as she could, but he caught her around the waist and sat her down. He kept his hands on her waist.

  ‘Let’s not fight about this, Liz,’ he recommended coolly. ‘You said something to me once about two sane adults. Perhaps that’s what we need now—some sanity. Let’s get to the basics.’

  He watched the way her mouth worked for a moment, but no sound came and he went on. ‘I need a mother for Archie. You need a father for Scout and a settled background.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘You couldn’t find a much more solid background than this.’

  Liz stared at him with her lips parted, her eyes stunned.

  ‘Then there’s you.’ He tightened his hands on her waist as she moved convulsively. ‘Just listen to me,’ he warned. ‘You’ve settled into Yewarra and the life here as if you were born to it. If you don’t love it, you’ve given a very good imitation of it. Has it been an act?’ he queried curtly.

  ‘No,’ she whispered.

  ‘And Archie?’

  ‘I love Archie,’ she said torturedly. ‘But—’

  ‘What about us?’ His gaze raked her face, and his eyes were as brooding as she’d ever seen them. ‘Let’s be brutally honest for once, Liz. We’re not going to be a one-night wonder. We wouldn’t have felt this way for two crazy months if we were.’

  She licked her lips.

  ‘And they have been two crazy months, haven’t they? Like a slow form of torture.’

  She released a long, slow breath. ‘Yes,’ she said at last. ‘Oh, yes.’

  His hands relaxed at last on her waist. He took them away and drew her into his arms. ‘Maybe we need a couple of days on our own—t
o get used to this idea. Would you come away with me for a while?’

  ‘What about the kids?’

  ‘I only meant a few days, and Archie is used to that. Perhaps your mother would come up to be with Scout?’

  She took a breath. ‘Well…’

  ‘Well?’ he repeated after a long moment.

  It occurred to Liz that one of her hurdles in this matter was getting to the core of Cam Hillier. Discovering whether she could trust him or not. Finding out what was really behind this amazing offer of marriage.

  ‘I—if I did it,’ she said hesitantly, ‘I couldn’t make any promises. But you’ve been very good to me,’ she heard herself say, ‘so—’

  ‘Liz.’ His voice was suddenly rough. ‘Do it or don’t do it—but not out of gratitude.’

  She sat up abruptly. ‘I am grateful!’

  ‘Then the offer’s withdrawn.’

  She sucked in a large amount of air. ‘You’re not only incorrigible, you’re impossible, Cam Hillier,’ she told him roundly.

  ‘No, I’m not. Be honest, Liz. We want each other, and gratitude’s got nothing to do with it.’

  She opened and closed her mouth several times as her mind whirled like a Catherine wheel, seeking excuses, twirling round and round in search of escape avenues. But of course he was right. There were none.

  ‘True,’ she breathed at last. ‘You’re right.’

  His clasp on her hand tightened almost unbearably. ‘Then the offer’s open again.’

  ‘Thanks. I’ll—I’ll come.’

  He released her hand and put his arm round her shoulders.

  Liz closed her eyes and surrendered herself to the warmth that passed between them. At the same time she was conscious that she’d put her foot on an unknown path—but she just didn’t seem to have the strength of mind to resist Cam Hillier.

  She took refuge in the mundane, because the enormity of it all was threatening to overwhelm her.

  ‘I’m a bit worried about Mrs Preston. She got herself into quite a state tonight.’

  ‘I’ll get her some help before we go. Don’t worry. You’re worse than Archie.’ He slipped his fingers beneath her chin and looked down into her eyes. ‘In fact,’ he murmured, ‘don’t worry about a thing. I’ll take care of it all.’ And he started to kiss her.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  HE TOOK HER to the Great Barrier Reef three days later. He’d told her that much, but said the rest would be a surprise.

  They flew to Hamilton Island, just off Queensland’s Whitsunday coast, on a commercial flight. She was quiet at first—until he put his hand over hers.

  ‘They’ll be fine—the kids.’

  She looked quickly at him. ‘How did you know I was thinking about them?’

  ‘It was a safe bet,’ he said wryly. ‘Unless you’re regretting coming away with me?’

  ‘No…’

  He narrowed his eyes at her slight hesitation, but didn’t take issue with it.

  She marvelled as the jet floated over the sparkling waters, the reefs, the islands of the Whitsunday Passage and right over the marina, with its masts and colourful surrounds, to land. Then she discovered they were not staying on Hamilton, although they walked around the busy harbour with its shops and art galleries, its cafés. Their luggage—not that there was a lot—seemed to have been mysteriously taken care of.

  Her discovery that they weren’t staying on Hamilton came in the form of a question.

  ‘Have you got a hat?’ he asked, as they stopped in front of a shop with a divine selection of hats. ‘You need a hat out on the water.’

  ‘Out on the… No, I don’t have one I can squash into a suitcase. Out on the water?’ she repeated.

  ‘You’ll see. Let’s choose.’ So they spent half an hour with Liz trying on sunhats—half an hour during which the two young, pretty shop assistants got all blushing and giggly beneath the charm and presence of Cameron Hillier.

  But it was light-hearted and fun, and Liz found herself feeling light-hearted too. It was as if, she thought, all the pressure from all the difficult decisions was flowing out of her system under the influence of the holiday spirit of the island.

  She chose a straw hat with a wide brim, and wore it out of the shop. They stopped at a café and had iced coffees, and shared a sinfully delicious pastry. Then, swinging her hand in his, he led down to the marina to a catamaran tied up to a jetty.

  Its name was Leilani, and she was the last word in luxury: a blend of glossy woodwork, thick carpets, beautiful fabrics, bright brass work and sparkling white paint. The main saloon was huge, with a shipshape built-in galley. The staterooms—there were three—were wood-panelled and had sumptuous bed clothing.

  There were two decks—one that led off the saloon, and an upper deck behind the fly-bridge controls.

  Liz was wide-eyed even before she got to see Leilani’s interior. A young man in whites named Rob welcomed them aboard with a salute, and showed her to her stateroom. He returned upstairs and she heard him talking to Cam, but not what was said. When she got back on the upper deck the conference was over, and to her surprise the young man whom she’d assumed was the skipper hopped off onto the jetty as Cam started the engines and untied the lines.

  ‘He isn’t coming?’ she queried.

  Cam looked over his shoulder as the cat started to reverse out of the berth. ‘Nope.’

  She blinked. ‘Do you know how to handle a boat this size?’

  ‘Liz, I virtually grew up on boats.’ He cast her a laughing look. ‘Of course I do.’

  She chewed her lip.

  This time he laughed at her openly. ‘You’re getting more and more like Archie,’ he teased, as he turned Leilani neatly on her own length and headed her for the harbour mouth. ‘I’ll show you how to do it—but maybe not today.’

  ‘Do you own her—is she yours or have you borrowed her?’

  ‘I own her.’

  ‘I’m surprised she hasn’t got a Shakespearean name!’

  He said wryly, ‘She was already named when I got her. It’s supposed to be unlucky to change a boat’s name. But funnily enough Leilani was a famous racehorse. OK. I’ll need to concentrate for a few minutes,’ he added as they cleared the harbour entrance.

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘Whitehaven,’ he said. ‘We should be there in time to see the sun set. There’s nothing like it.’

  He was right.

  By the time the sun started to drop below the horizon they’d anchored off Whitehaven Beach, Liz had unpacked, and she was starting to feel more at home.

  She’d been helped in this by the fact that once Cam was satisfied the anchor was set, and he’d turned off the motors and various other systems, he’d followed her down to the lower deck and taken her into his arms.

  ‘A difficult few days,’ he said wryly.

  She could only nod in agreement. They’d decided to maintain a businesslike stance at Yewarra in front of staff and children alike—even Liz’s mother, when she arrived. ‘It’s nothing to do with anyone but us,’ he’d said. ‘And we’ll tell them it’s a business trip to do with real estate.’

  ‘But they’ll probably be dying of curiosity,’ she’d responded. ‘Not the children, but…’

  ‘Would you rather I kissed you every time I felt like it?’ he’d countered.

  Liz had blushed brightly and shaken her head.

  ‘Thought not,’ he’d said, with a glint of sheer devilry.

  In the event he’d spent quite a bit of those three days in Sydney tidying up loose ends before going away. And Liz had spent the time he was away feeling like pinching herself—because, hard as it was to remain unaffected in his presence, it was harder to feel she’d made a rational decision when he wasn’t around.

  The one argument she’d bolstered herself with was that she owed it to Cam Hillier to at least try to understand him. It might be close to gratitude, but she couldn’t help it; she certainly wouldn’t be telling him that, though.

  No
w, anchored off Whitehaven Beach on his beautiful boat, he put his hand on her waist from behind and swung her round. ‘I’m sorely in need of this,’ he said huskily.

  Liz smiled up at him and relaxed against him. ‘You and me both.’

  He released her waist and gathered her into his arms, making her feel slim and willowy, and said against the corner of her mouth, ‘No desire to fight me or call me a menace?’

  Liz suffered a jolt of laughter, but said ruefully, ‘I don’t know where it all went.’

  ‘All the hostility?’ He nuzzled the top of her head and moved his hands on her hips.

  ‘Mmm… Could be something to do with—I mean it’s very hard to say no to a guy with a boat like this!’

  He laughed down at her and she caught her breath, because in all his dark glory he was devastatingly attractive and he made her heart beat faster and her pulses race.

  ‘Tell you what.’ He kissed her lightly. ‘Why don’t you change into something more comfortable whilst I whip up the sundowners that are traditional in this part of the world?’

  She drew away and looked down at her clothes. She was still wearing the jeans and top she’d travelled in. ‘I guess I could. It is warm. How about you?’

  ‘I’m going to sling on some shorts—but don’t be long. The sun goes fast when it makes up its mind to retire.’

  ‘Just going!’ She clasped his fingers, then went inside and down to her stateroom.

  ‘A maxi-dress! You must have a maxi-dress,’ had been her mother’s emphatic response upon learning her daughter was going to Hamilton Island in the Whitsundays, even if it was on business. ‘They’re all the rage. I’ll bring you one!’

  And despite the short notice she’d done just that—a lovely long floaty creation in white, with a wide band of tangerine swirls round the hem. It was strapless, with a built-in bra, and had a matching tangerine and white scarf to drape elegantly around her neck.

  Liz slipped it on and discovered the lovely dress had a strange effect on her. It made her feel as light as a feather. It made her feel flirty and young and desirable.

  In fact she stretched out her arms and did a dancing circle in front of the mirror. Then, mindful of the sun’s downward path, she brushed her hair, shook her head to tousle it, put on some lipgloss and, barefoot—because that seemed to fit the scene—moved lightly up to the saloon and out on to the back deck.