by Coleen Kwan
He cleared his throat. “Do you take milk or sugar with your coffee?”
“Milk, no sugar.”
He brought over the two mugs of coffee and sank down on the couch diagonally opposite her. For a while the crackling of the fire was the only sound in the room. She faked an interest in the picture hanging on the wall, ignoring his gaze which she knew was fixed on her like a spotlight. When she could pretend no longer, she met his eyes.
He tilted his head toward her. “How did you get that scar on your arm?”
Surprised, she lifted her left arm. The black, figure-hugging singlet she wore revealed her bare upper arms and the faintly discoloured line a few inches long just below her shoulder.
“This thing? Don’t you remember? I fell off my dad’s dirt bike.”
His face altered. “I didn’t realise the cut was that bad. You didn’t complain much at the time.”
Because at first she’d been too dazzled by his presence to feel the searing pain, and then too anxious about blubbering in front of him. “I was distracted.”
Adam leaned across and touched her scar, and instantly she trembled. “Did I hurt you?” he quickly asked.
“No.” Her voice was unsteady, betraying her emotions. Did he know how sensitive she was to his touch? How the lightest stroke got her pulses revving?
He kneeled down in front of her and replaced his fingers with his lips.
“What are you doing?” she gasped, liquid lightning streaking through her at the sight and feel of his mouth caressing her scar.
“I wanted to find out what it felt like.” His voice thickened as he lifted his head. He was very close now, and she could see the tiny jet-black flecks in his grey eyes, the subtle creases at the corners of his eyes.
Still on his knees, he cupped her face and brought her even closer to him. “I’m fascinated about every little thing about you. I want to learn everything about you, find out all your hidden secrets.”
She couldn’t allow Adam to discover her biggest secret—that she cared about him more than ever before. She knew she should yank herself free and run out of that cottage, but the feel of his hands cradling her face was so mesmerising and the smell of his skin so tantalising she couldn’t budge an inch.
From deep inside she managed to find her voice. “Adam, I—”
“Don’t say a word,” he shushed her as the pads of his thumbs drew circles on her cheeks.
He drew her closer, and when their lips met a sigh escaped her. A sigh of relief at all her pent-up anticipation. A sigh of delight as his mouth moved slowly and deliciously over hers. She had missed him so much. Her heart felt close to bursting as she recognised her pain, her longing, her wanting. With a muffled moan she pulled him nearer, and his hands slid from her face and wrapped around her waist.
His tongue teased the line of her lips, and when she opened her mouth, he deepened the kiss, flooding her with his heat and passion. He trailed his mouth over her cheeks, her jaw, her neck, stringing soft, exquisite bites along her skin until she was drowning in her own desire. She was so lost in his kisses she didn’t know up from down, and only when a log in the wood heater broke with a shower of sparks did a little sanity penetrate her foggy brain.
Adam’s hands had slipped beneath her black singlet and were roaming across her back and abdomen, trailing fire across her heated skin. When his fingers reached the catch of her bra, she stopped breathing, her resolve teetering on a knife-edge.
“Adam?”
His fingers stilled as he lifted his head. For what seemed like an eternity he stared at her hot face, before he let out a deep gust and slowly withdrew his hands.
She opened her mouth to speak, but he laid his finger across her lips.
“Shh. Don’t say anything.” He smoothed down the rumpled edges of her singlet.
Why was he shushing her again? “Why can’t I—”
“Talk?” He tucked her hair behind her ears. “Because I can see you just want to argue with me.”
“That’s not true. I don’t want to argue—”
“And if you argue with me, I’ll just be goaded into kissing you again.”
Her cheeks flushed. “That’s just plain silly—”
“And I can’t trust myself if I keep on kissing you.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and fixed her with a steady gaze. “I’m determined to keep tonight PG-rated.”
She shook off his hands and jumped to her feet. “I…Adam…I…” She didn’t know what to say.
He rose to his feet. “I can’t seem to get it right with you, Harriet. Why is that?”
The dismay in his eyes puzzled her. She shook her head. “What do you mean?”
“I wanted tonight to be about starting over again. I thought we could just chat and get comfortable with each other.” He ran his fingers through his hair, making it even messier. “But I can’t help kissing you, it seems, and as soon as the kissing starts, I can see all the doubts and questions popping into your brain, spoiling all the pleasure of the kiss.”
She backed away from him. She needed all her strength to keep herself together; she couldn’t afford to break down now. “You shouldn’t have brought me here.”
“You don’t leave me much choice when you’re leaving in the morning.”
The roughness in his voice pierced her resolve. Was he reluctant to see her go? Did he realise that she had nothing to look forward to on her return to Sydney?
“Please stay.” His face was serious, his body tensed. “Please stay, Harriet, and I promise we’ll just talk.” He sat down on the couch and patted the seat beside him.
Cautiously she sat down again.
“Tell me about your life in Sydney.”
“My life in Sydney?” She wrinkled her brow. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything.” He handed her mug to her. “Ken tells me you have plans to rent a bigger commercial space soon and expand your market. I want to know all about your plans.”
Ah, yes, her plans. She had plans—big plans for her catering business, but…none of that mattered anymore. Nothing mattered as much as this man sitting beside her, listening to her talk about her ideas and turnover, her staff and clients.
She knew where her heart lay. She would trade all her accomplishments for the right to be by this man for the rest of her life, for the privilege of sitting here by the flickering fire. She half feared, half hoped he would reach for her again, but he didn’t, and gradually she relaxed in her corner of the couch in the soporific warmth of the fire.
When Adam got up to poke at the fire, she leaned her head on the armrest and watched him, drowsily admiring his figure. She was tired, and she knew she should ask him to drive her home, but somehow she didn’t. She would rest her eyes for a few minutes before she reluctantly called an end to the night. Snuggling down into her corner, she closed her eyes.
A shaft of sunlight across her face woke her up. She yawned and rubbed her eyes, wondering why her back felt kinked. The room came into focus, and she saw the dead ashes of the fire, her shoes on the carpet and a thick woollen blanket tucked around her. With a gasp she jumped to her feet.
She’d spent all night at Adam’s cottage, and it was already past nine in the morning. How could she have slept for so long? How could he have let her sleep for so long?
She pushed open the door to his bedroom. It was empty, the bed already made. No sound from the bathroom; no sound from anywhere. She was alone.
Damn, where had he gone? By the time he drove her back home, her parents would be well and truly up, and there would be no hope of concealing the fact that she’d spent the night with Adam. Her parents would never believe nothing had happened between them. Neither would anyone else who saw Adam driving her home on a Sunday morning. The rumour-mills would be working overtime.
With a groan she slipped on her shoes, and hurried over to the kitchen sink to wash her face under the cold-water tap. Her eyes were blurred as she straightened up and gazed out the window. She wiped them
and gasped.
Up on the hill the Blackstone mansion stood solid and mellow in the morning sunshine. And billowing out of a second-storey window was a thick pall of black smoke.
Adam’s house was on fire.
Chapter Eleven
Harriet skidded to a halt at the open door of the mansion. She stepped into a hallway reeking of smoke.
“Adam!” Her quavering cry echoed through the empty rooms.
She could hear nothing except for a muffled roar coming from above. She clutched the newel post and craned her neck upstairs, calling Adam again. There was no reply.
But she knew in her bones he was in the house. Knew he was somewhere upstairs. In danger.
The bitter tang of smoke stung her throat. She drew in a deep breath and flung herself up those stairs before she could think twice. The roar of the fire grew louder, and, as she reached the first floor, she saw the flames, red and angry, shooting out of a bedroom. The room where she’d helped Adam with his woodwork.
Her knees turned to water. Sweat poured into her eyes as the heat of the fire blasted her face. Oh God, all she wanted was to turn around and escape.
But she couldn’t.
She dropped to her knees and crawled forward, hugging the wall as she entered the bedroom. It wasn’t a room anymore. It was a cave of roaring flames and thick black smoke. Tears poured from her eyes. Acrid heat scoured her lungs. She couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.
Somehow she kept on crawling, feeling her way through the nightmare. A few metres in, her trembling hands fumbled against something solid, inert. Adam. Lying unconscious on the ground.
Through her streaming tears she made out his head and shoulders. She shook him, but he didn’t move. She shook him again, harder. Still no response. Her fingers sought out and found the reassuring pulse beating in his neck.
“Adam!” She screamed before a paroxysm of coughing shook her, doubling her up in agony. If they didn’t get out of here soon, the smoke would kill them both.
He groaned, and his eyes flickered open. Oh thank God!
“Get out of here,” he croaked.
“Not without you.”
She helped him roll onto his hands and knees. He was groggy and disoriented. The smoke thickened until she couldn’t see two inches in front of her. She took the lead, crawling toward the door, with Adam holding on to her. With agonising slowness they began to inch away to safety. The heat and terror sapped her energy, but she wouldn’t give up, wouldn’t stop until she had him safe.
They were almost out. She could see the murky outline of the door. A burst of flames suddenly roared down on them.
“Look out!” Adam shoved her out of the room.
A second later the ceiling of the bedroom came crashing down in a blaze of heat and sparks and crumbling, red timbers. The explosion sent fire and smoke billowing toward them. Adam cannoned into her, flinging her to the ground, his body protecting her. She twisted round, saw he’d been knocked out by some flying debris. There was no time to stop. The danger had followed them. The hallway was thick with poisonous smoke, the walls creaking and melting in the face of the voracious inferno.
She had to get him down the stairs, but she didn’t think she was strong enough. Crying with desperation, she yelled at him to wake up, but only a dry croak came out of her desiccated lungs, lost in the monstrous roar of the flames.
It couldn’t end here. Not like this.
If she could only gather up her last scraps of strength. If she could only have a few moments of rest. But by then it would be too late. Too late for both of them. She pressed her blackened, sweat- and tear-streaked cheek against his and shut her eyes.
Adam.
A sob rose in her throat as she curled her arms around him and rested her face against his, holding him tight All she could hear was the awful roar of the fire, and…was that a siren? It was. She sat up, listened. Other noises came to her, distant but real. Sirens wailing, voices yelling, boots pounding on the stairs. She smeared away the gunk from her eyes just in time to see a fire fighter reach the top of the stairs. In his breathing equipment he looked like an alien, but she’d never seen a more beautiful sight. A fresh flood of tears poured down her face.
Two days later, Harriet marched through the hospital, her head held high, her step confident. It was a paper-thin disguise. Her mouth was dry with nerves, her stomach knotted. At the nurses’ station the medical staff looked at her curiously and exchanged knowing smiles with each other. Heat crawled up her chest. She knew it’d be like this, knew she’d attract stares and comments. But she couldn’t leave Wilmot without seeing Adam.
One of the nurses leaned her hip against the counter and flashed her a grin. “Hi, Harriet. He’s down the hall in 2B.”
The heat shot up her neck. The nurse didn’t even elaborate on who “he” was. Didn’t need to. Everyone within a twenty-kilometre radius of Wilmot knew. She nodded at the nurse and surged onward to room 2B. A private room, of course. Feeling everyone’s eyes glued on to her back, she pushed open the door and barged in.
Adam swung round at the window.
He was standing up and fully dressed in khaki chinos and a black cotton shirt. Apart from a few scratches and bruises on his face, he looked wholly recovered and composed.
“Ah,” she stuttered as her heart-rate kicked up even further. “I should have knocked.”
“Luckily I’m decent.” He gave her a crooked little smile. “I’ve been watching you through the window. You’ve been sitting in your car in the parking lot for the past fifteen minutes. I thought I’d have to come out and get you.”
That explained why he didn’t look the least surprised to see her. It had taken her all that time to screw up her courage to enter the hospital. She ran her fingers along the bed rail. “Um, you okay?”
“Doctors say I’m fine. I heard you suffered a bit of smoke inhalation.”
“Not much,” she hastened to assure him. “I just spent a few hours at emergency strapped to an oxygen tank.”
She looked him over, relief washing through her once more. She already knew he was all right, but nothing could comfort her as much as seeing him for herself. He looked so solid and healthy and unfairly handsome that the urge to fling her arms around him and squeeze him tight bloomed in her. Instead she dug her fingernails into her palms.
“I’m just waiting for my discharge papers.” He shot her a keen glance. “What are you up to?”
“I’m about to drive back to Sydney.”
His shoulders tensed. “And you thought you’d just drop in on your way? Why didn’t you visit sooner?”
She gestured toward the flowers, balloons and get-well cards massed around his room. “I heard the crowd was three deep around your bed. Everyone wanted to see you. I thought you’d appreciate a little peace.”
“Really?” He took a few steps toward her. “Is that the only reason?”
She eased out a sigh. There was no point in concealing the truth. “I also wasn’t too keen on being more fodder to the gossip-mills by visiting you in hospital. The phones around Wilmot have been running hot ever since…well, you know.”
“Ever since you risked your life to rescue me from a fire?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t rescue you. The firemen carried you out of the house. I probably just gave you some extra bumps and bruises.”
“You saved my life, Harriet. Let’s not quibble about that. If you hadn’t found me, I wouldn’t be alive today.”
She wrapped her arms around herself and hunched her shoulders. “Yeah, well, that’s not what’s going round town. All everyone can talk about is how the fire crew found me sprawled all over your body, not to mention the fact that I spent the night with you.”
He gave a rasping laugh which quickly turned into a cough. “Why does that get your goat?” he said when he had recovered. “You and I both know our night together was perfectly innocent.”
“No one would ever believe that!”
“
And that’s the only reason you haven’t come to see me?”
She shuddered and hugged herself tighter.
“No,” she admitted in a low voice. “The real reason is I was afraid. I was afraid that when I saw you again I’d break down in front of everyone…” She covered her face with her hands as she suddenly felt herself go to pieces. “Oh, Adam, I was so scared. I still have nightmares. I thought…”
He crossed the room in a couple of strides and pulled her into his arms. She leaned her head into his chest and cried until his shirt was soaked through. He didn’t seem to mind. He drew her closer and buried his face in her hair.
“I put you in terrible danger,” he said. “That morning, I woke up early. You were still sleeping, so I thought I’d finish up something at the house. I was in a hurry to get it done before you woke, so I took my power tools upstairs, and the damned electricity shorted out and started the fire. I would have been okay if I hadn’t been up a ladder at the time. The shock knocked me off my feet. I must have hit the ground pretty hard.”
His arms tightened around her, and she felt his heart thudding against her wet cheek. “I’ll never forgive myself for endangering you like that. God—” he gave a disgusted grunt, “—and after all the safety drills I drum into my crew, I go and do a stupid thing like that.”
It felt so blissful to be in Adam’s arms, but she knew she was only making it harder for her to leave. Reluctantly she disentangled herself from him and found a wad of tissues to clean her face.
“I’m sorry about your house, too,” she said as she balled up the tissues. “I heard the upstairs has been badly damaged. All your hard work gone to waste…” Her voice trailed off, everything in her aching for him and his loss. She knew how much Blackstone Hall meant to him.
Adam shrugged. “It’s insured.”