by Robyn Grady
Ivy emptied her lungs. ‘The perfect way to spend a Sunday.’ She crossed her arms over the waist of her pink cotton dress and pegged out a leg. ‘When was the last time you went out to dinner? And I’m talking attractive female, not wheeling and dealing with some boring businessman type.’
‘Businessmen aren’t boring,’ he eyed his colour-coded charts and mumbled, ‘.necessarily.’
‘So when?’
‘As a matter of fact, I took a lady out night before last.’
Ivy’s gaze sharpened. ‘Have you seen her before?’
‘Affirmative.’
‘Plan to see her again?’
He thought for a moment and admitted, ‘I’d like to.’ Irrespective of the disappointing way the night had ended—how much Roxy obviously still didn’t trust him—simple truth was he’d like to a lot.
‘Ohmigod.’ Ivy sank into the chair beside him. ‘It’s serious.’
‘Don’t go choosing bridesmaid’s shoes just yet. I would never let it get that far.’ And neither would Roxy.
Before tossing him out, she’d made herself clear. Roxy was attracted to him physically, intellectually, but she didn’t want to rub shoulders with his demons. Perhaps she thought he used his family history as an excuse, a trick so she wouldn’t expect him to call—at least not regularly.
He hadn’t stopped thinking about her since and, for the first time in years, he was questioning his beliefs. Still, curse or not, he did not want to get hitched. But he did want to spend time with the woman who his mind respected and his body craved—more every minute.
‘So, will the family meet this mystery girl at the anniversary dinner?’ Ivy asked. ‘I mean before you whisk her off somewhere quiet and romantic, away from your terribly supportive dreary family?’
Shoving the reports aside, he moved to a glass slider’s view of Sydney’s cityscape and Harbour Bridge. ‘She’s not going to that party.’
Even if he did decide to brave the endless questions from family members—their over-the-top encouragement—and ask her, Roxy wouldn’t accept.
Ivy sniffed. ‘Anyone might think you’re ashamed of us.’
‘You know that’s not true. It’ll be the same old crowd going over the same old stories. The food will be more extravagant, the fireworks brighter and higher, but the couple of the moment will still be trying to set me up with some woman or other. Drives me nuts.’
They’d grown up poor but five years ago a distant relative had left his mother a stack of money, so the anniversary parties were the same—only bigger.
Ivy grinned as she had when they were kids and she beat him at checkers. ‘They won’t try to set you up if you bring someone of your own along. I for one am dying to meet her. What does she do for a living? Blonde or brunette? Is she wildly in love with you already or playing it cool?’
‘Depends which day it is.’ When Ivy’s ears seemed to prick, Nate waved his hands. Scrap that. But he did have something he wanted to share or, rather, ask. A question that had eaten at him since leaving Roxy’s place so abruptly Friday night.
‘Ivy, what do you know about the Sparks family curse?’
‘Don’t call it that. It’s a—’
‘Blessing. Right. What do you know?’
‘It stems from an epitaph Great-grandfather Sparks found on an ancestor’s gravestone back in England. Read something like … “I live only for your heart and wither without your love.” The wife was buried one day, her husband a month later. More ancestral research led our great-grandfather to the conclusion that we have a history of falling in love quickly and staying that way.’ Her sigh eased into a soft faraway smile. ‘I get such a buzz from telling the kids how Nan and Grandad fell in love at first sight just like a prince and princess from a fairy tale.’
‘Our grandparents too,’ he said, crossing back from the view.
‘Don’t you melt whenever you see those two walking hand in hand? I hope Cameron and I are still cuddling when we’re eighty-five.’
Nate didn’t doubt Ivy and her husband would be. Those two adored each other, and their two children. Another happy family Sparks success story. But that wasn’t what he wanted to know.
‘So, is there anything in it? Is the curse real or not?’
She blinked and then her eyes widened to saucers. ‘You are serious about this girl, aren’t you? You’re afraid you’ll beg for her hand, the curse, as you call it, will be awakened and all the effort you’ve put into this business hope will come to nothing because you’d have found something that matters more than money.’
He held onto his groan and asked again. ‘Do you think there’s some kind of voodoo involved or it’s just a matter of, well … emotion?’
‘Maybe it’s both.’ Gazing down, she twirled the gold band circling a finger on her left hand. ‘Falling in love is a magical experience.’
He sat down at the table again. ‘There’s nothing magical about wearing patches to school.’
‘Your pants may have been patched from time to time but it was a good school. A private school. You got a great education, Nate. We all did.’
‘It wouldn’t have been such an almighty struggle if Dad had finished his own education.’
‘I imagine children from divorced families struggle more than we did. Money was tight—’
‘We couldn’t afford to have the phone on. The electricity sometimes.’
‘Which is an even greater testimony to our parents’ dedication.’
What about their father’s obsession with their mother to a point where nothing else mattered? Husband, fathers, were meant to be strong. Why couldn’t his father have been a man as well as an enamoured spouse?
‘I guess you and I see things differently,’ Ivy said. ‘Maybe because I’m happily married and …’
When her lips pressed together and her gaze veered off, he prodded.
‘And what?’
She shrugged. ‘I’m sorry, Nate. It’s not something a person can explain.’
He assessed his sister’s pitying smile and growled, not at her as much as himself. Would he still be torn this way at forty, fifty, sixty? He wanted to have a family some day, just not before he’d set himself up. Before he’d achieved what he’d worked so hard to secure.
Although, he shouldn’t forget that Roxy felt the same way. She wasn’t after a gold ring. But he also knew, despite her stand the other night, she wanted to spend time with him as much as he wanted to spend time with her.
Ten minutes later, Ivy was saying her goodbyes and Nate was still thinking about Roxy. Maybe he would call. He could pretend to keep busy, pretend he could forget, but the truth was he needed to talk with her again. Talk … and more.
Dammit, he couldn’t get away from the fact that he wanted to know Roxy in the most intimate way. He wanted to make love to her—fiercely, then slowly, then all night long. Even now he could feel the satin of her skin beneath his fingers as his hands moulded over her bare limbs, her belly. Her breasts. Awake half the night, staring at the ceiling, he’d imagined the secret taste of her and how she might arch up and grip her legs around his thighs at the same time he lowered and plunged into her damp sweet warmth.
Ivy was right about one thing. He did need a hot date.
He needed Roxy.
He was saying goodbye to his sister at the door when his phone beeped with a text. Nate checked the ID and near fell over.
I’LL PROBABLY REGRET THIS, the message read, BUT GUESS I’M IN. It was signed ROXY T.
CHAPTER FIVE
TWO days later, Roxy and Marla arrived in the red dry plains of Australia’s Outback.
From Sydney they’d flown north to Brisbane to board a small aircraft, which had taken just the two of them into the centre of Queensland. Nate had organised a later private flight for himself and Greg. All very clandestine. Another word that came to Roxy’s mind was underhanded. She was still in two minds as to whether she ought to have given in and agreed.
After their Scrabble game and
Marla’s admission that she wished those photos and her doubts regarding Greg were somehow a mistake, Roxy had confirmed she’d go along with Nate’s plan—but she was far from comfortable. Whether it was sweet-talking her customers or working his way around her and almost into her bed, Nate was a master manipulator. She only had to think of her parents’ relationship to know a man’s charm—even declarations of love—could be turned on and off to suit. But she wasn’t here to dwell on that.
As the four-wheel-drive transfer vehicle pulled up now outside what would be their lodgings for the next few days, she only hoped that Nate’s faith in his friend was true and well founded, and a happy ending would justify these deceptive means. She could only pray that her friend would make the right decision for her. And, hey, maybe Marla would say ‘I do’ and wear the gorgeous gown specially created for the occasion … the gown that might make that contest deadline after all.
With a hot breeze blowing in her face and a blazing midday sun beating down, Roxy alighted from the vehicle to study the eerily quiet landscape and sprawling, obviously once-grand but presently wholly unglamorous, homestead.
‘I appreciate the surprise,’ Marla said, ‘but when you asked me to push back my plans for California to fit in a girlie escape to a secret location, I expected a tropical island. You know? Lying on some powdery beach, sipping a creamy cocktail.’ She swiped at a noisy fly. ‘Why this place?’
Roxy took in the homestead’s flaky paint then a Frilly lizard scrambling over a bed of dead flowers and tried to make light. Not the Hilton, but didn’t the charm of this old homestead make their trip more … interesting?
‘Didn’t you ever want to experience kangaroos bounding free? The enormous majesty of an Outback sunset?’ She recited a couple of lines from a famous poem about a sun-burned country and sweeping plains. ‘Who knows how long you’ll be in California? This might be your only chance to experience your native country’s true character.’
‘I don’t plan to be gone for ever.’ Ducking, Marla waved away another pea-sized fly. ‘Just long enough to escape for a while. To forget.’
When Marla’s eyes welled and she slid the sunglasses perched atop her head onto her nose to hide the glisten of tears, Roxy tried to swallow the lump swelling in her own throat. Since they’d met in university, she and Marla had been as close as sisters; being an only child from an unstable home, that meant a lot. Too much to lose. And yet here she was jeopardizing that relationship. Then again, this might pay off in the best way possible and make their friendship even stronger.
Roxy held her swooping stomach. God, how she wished everything about this time were over.
At the same time the vehicle pulled away, the homestead’s screen door squeaked open and a couple in their fifties moved out onto the wide verandah that surrounded the entire length of the house. The silver-haired man wore pressed jeans, a checkered shirt and a warm smile. In a faded printed dress, his beaming wife held onto his arm until the couple was close enough to extend a hand to greet their city guests.
‘I’m Celia Glenrowan,’ the woman said, and Roxy shook her weathered hand after Marla. ‘Welcome to Glenrowan Station.’
‘Celia can show you to your rooms,’ Mr Glenrowan said, filing back hair before placing a battered Akubra square on his head. ‘Then we can have a bite to eat and maybe take a ride around. You girls know how to handle a horse?’
Roxy spoke for them both. ‘I do. I’m sure Marla would love to learn.’
‘We got a couple of real ladies that’ll suit you both just fine,’ Mrs Glenrowan said, heading back to the homestead.
Mr Glenrowan collected the luggage. ‘We’ll keep the stallions for the other guests. Think the man said they liked to ride hard.’
Marla’s brows lifted. ‘There’s other guests?’
‘Due later today,’ Mr Glenrowan replied, following his wife.
Marla murmured to Roxy, ‘As long as it’s not a couple of bad boys on the prowl. Then again, that type usually hit the hot spots—’ she plucked at her blouse ‘—and I don’t mean Simpson Desert hot.’
Roxy hid a cringe as her guilt barometer hit an all-time high. While an unsuspecting Marla headed off after the Glenrowans, she took in another sweeping glance over the gum-tree-studded panorama before folding her sleeves up another turn, saying a quick prayer and following.
The last through that screen door, Roxy was apparently the first to hear the churning rumble filtering in from afar. Cupping a hand over her brow, she squinted through the haze and spied a four-wheel-drive hovering on the shimmering horizon. She didn’t think she or Marla had left anything behind but had their driver spotted something that he was good enough to want to return? Except the approaching vehicle was red whereas theirs had been white—which meant more visitors?
They four were supposed to be the only guests, but Nate and Greg weren’t due for another two hours. Still, as the vehicle rumbled closer Roxy couldn’t shake the feeling that one of its occupants was indeed her accomplice in crime. Perspiration beaded across her forehead and her thoughts began to race.
She and Nate had talked over the phone at length about arrangements, including the fact she’d secured the services of her younger cousin, who was in between jobs and grateful for the opportunity to mind the store for some extra cash. But they hadn’t discussed a plan B should they land here at the same time. She and Marla were meant to be taking a tour around the property when the boys arrived.
Feeling queasy, Roxy stepped back from the door. Greg was in trouble because of his alleged subterfuge. Roxy could make excuses for herself—for this—but was she really any better?
Soon the vehicle pulled up. The driver let the engine run while Greg jumped down from the back seat, overnighter in hand. Having exited the other side, Nate rounded the tailgate. In such a harsh setting, under such intense circumstances, the sight of him took Roxy’s breath away.
Walking into her shop the other day, he’d cut an impressive figure in a dark, tailored suit. In chinos and a more casual white button-down that night, he’d looked so hot, the sight of him had left her parched. But today—now—her every thought, every cell, was drawn to the uncompromising masculine sight of him. She wanted to tell herself that she couldn’t stand the sight of him. But that would be the biggest lie of all.
When a simple chambray shirt, cuffs folded halfway up two tanned forearms, covered that broad chest and shoulders, it was transformed into something extraordinary. Watching those light blue jeans hug his thighs as he sauntered around the vehicle left her feeling giddy. By the time a black Akubra was fitted atop dark hair that ruffled in a rippling breeze, her heart was hammering double time up near her throat. Suddenly she was consumed by thoughts of the sensations he’d so effortlessly brought out in her the other night … feelings that had left her boneless, yearning to have him naked, hard and unapologetically close.
Why did he have to be so screwed up about curses and blessings and drag her into the mix?
She watched as Nate took in the bordering straggly gums and a drunken wire fence that disappeared into a drowsy infinity before shaking hands with the driver through the opened window, then saluting him off. A moment later, the vehicle rolled away, churning plumes of red dust in its wake. Roxy’s stomach churned too. Was she meant to stand here, frozen, waiting for Marla to wander out and the bomb to fall? She’d rather dig a hole and disappear for good.
In a deep wry voice, Greg said to Nate, ‘Could you have taken us anywhere more remote?’
‘The idea was to get away.’ Nate moved forward with the gait of a man expecting to step on a landmine any minute. He must feel as anxious as she did.
‘Look, I know you’re worried about the business,’ Greg said, following, ‘but you don’t need me to make that company of yours a success.’
‘That’s one man’s opinion.’ Nate broke into a smile and clapped his buddy on the back. ‘Let’s get these bags inside and see what’s what.’
Roxy shut her eyes as her stomach swoope
d again. This was the moment. Rather than them run into her here, hiding, better she get her butt out there and face the music now.
At the same time she pushed at the screen door Marla came up behind her and Roxy jumped and swallowed a surprised yelp.
‘Our rooms are gorgeous,’ Marla said. ‘So big and comfy-looking. What’s keeping you?’ She must have seen the dread in her friend’s face and, worried, she lowered her voice. ‘Roxy, what’s wrong? You look ready to faint.’
Roxy held her friend’s shoulders. ‘There’s something I need to tell you. And before I do, I want you to know that there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. You know that, right?’
At that moment, Marla must have heard the men speaking, recognized the voices, then immediately dismissed it all as imagination because her expression went from worry to alarm to self-reproach in the blink of an eye. But when those voices grew louder, closer, Marla frowned and stepped around Roxy to peer out through the screen door. A heartbeat later, she made a sound as if she’d been kicked in the gut at the same time her knees gave way; Roxy had to dive to hold her friend up before she crumpled to the floor. Together they gazed out as the men strolled nearer, chatting, laughing, although, to someone in the know, Nate’s body language seemed guarded.
Marla didn’t consult her friend. Rather she straightened and burst through the door. Marla was a deeply feeling person but she could also be steely tough when the situation demanded. It was one of the reasons Roxy respected her so much. And why she was so worried now.
When Greg saw Marla, his smile slipped from his face and his lazy pace ground to a halt at the same time his head slanted to one side, as if looking from a different angle might change what he saw. Carefully he removed his sunglasses and his complexion drained.
Marla spoke first, directly at Greg. ‘What on earth are you up to, sneaking around and following us out here like this? Must have taken some doing, Greg Martin, but if you think this is a way to wheedle back into my life, you’re mistaken.’