‘Uh-huh.’
‘Then maybe the two of you would like to go down to the beach and have a quick game while I finish tossing the salad and get the casserole on?’
The blood drained from his face. Ice pierced his veins. He took a step back. ‘No!’
If something happened to Jesse whilst he was in Simon’s care, Simon would never forgive himself.
Kate would never forgive him.
Her head shot up. She stared at him as if she couldn’t believe she’d heard him properly, then she very slowly set the knife down on the chopping board. With sickening clarity, he recognised each and every emotion that passed through her eyes—concern, shock, consternation, disappointment and finally…anger.
Then her eyes became as opaque as frosted glass and she turned away from him.
‘Oops, that’s right, chook. You won’t have time for a game of cricket this afternoon. Not if you and Nick want to camp out in the tent tonight.’
Jesse’s face lit up. He flung his arms about her waist. ‘Can we?’
Kate hugged him close. ‘Sure you can.’
Bitterness filled Simon’s mouth. Kate and Jesse formed a closed circle, effectively shutting him out. Even though he knew he deserved it, and even though he knew it was for the best, the bite of their rejection seared through him like poison.
Kate hugged Jesse close, giving him the reassurance he needed after Simon’s abrupt rebuff. Then she said, ‘Why don’t you run over and make sure it’s okay with Nick’s mum?’
Jesse shot out the back door, everything right with his world again, and Kate spun to Simon. ‘What on earth was that about?’ she demanded, her hands going to her hips.
She wanted to hit him. She wanted to kiss him too, but she tried to ignore that bit. She tried to focus on her sense of injury. How could he have been so darn brutal? Jesse was a great kid. He hadn’t deserved that.
Simon hunched up his shoulders and shrugged. She tried not to notice how long and lean his legs looked in sand-coloured chinos, tried to ignore the broad strokes of his chest and shoulders in their forest-green polo shirt.
Okay, well, maybe it was impossible to ignore them, but they didn’t excuse his behaviour.
‘Well?’ she demanded.
He shrugged again. ‘Look, Kate, I’m just not that into children, that’s all.’
‘Not into kids?’ That’s all?
‘Look, it’s no big deal.’
No big deal?
That’s all!
With those few words, Simon dismantled all the castles in the air she’d built around him since that kiss—that stupid, ridiculous kiss. They fell around her like they deserved to—silently and strangely weightless—whilst she tried to get her head around the extent of her own stupidity.
All her adult life she and her friends had warned each other—don’t mess with the tourists. And here she was messing with the worst kind—the kind that kissed you senseless, made you fall in love with them, took all you had to offer, then buggered off back to wherever it was they’d come from without so much as a backward glance. Well, this little black duck wasn’t falling in love with anyone! Not this week.
One—love at first sight was a myth.
Two—hot, steamy kisses did not indicate a warm heart or a good person or anything else of the kind.
Three—Jesse’s happiness took priority over all else. Not that she was in any danger of forgetting that, but it felt good to tell herself all the same.
And four—don’t mess with the tourists!
Simon shifted from one foot to the other. ‘You’re not all right with that, are you?’
She stared at him. Her hands clenched and she started to shake. ‘You have no idea how not all right with that I am. I am so not all right with it that I want you to forget all about taking me out to dinner on Sunday night.’
He stiffened. ‘But I’ve already booked at—’
‘I don’t care if you’ve organised dinner with the Queen!’
‘All because I’m not into children?’
‘That’s right.’ She gave one hard nod.
‘But you and me…can’t we keep that separate—?’
‘Separate!’ She advanced on him. ‘You have no idea, do you?’ Then she had to retreat before she did something stupid like cry.
‘But—’
‘Face facts,’ she ordered, as much to herself as him. ‘You’re not into kids and I have one. I’d say that’s a pretty major problem from the outset, wouldn’t you?’
She seized a tomato and ordered herself not to squash it. ‘Me and Jesse, we’re a package deal. End of story.’
Simon took a step back.
‘Precisely!’ She nodded. Then she picked up her knife and very carefully set about chopping the tomato. When Simon turned and left the room, she refused to waste another moment thinking about him. Not one more thought.
Kate tried to keep things as normal as she could for the rest of the afternoon. Once she’d finished preparing dinner, she, Jesse and Nick put up the tent.
Eventually Simon emerged out of hiding to sit at the outdoor table. She set a beer in front of him. He murmured his thanks, but he didn’t offer to help with the tent.
Not that she, Jesse and Nick needed any help.
She kept up a steady flow of chatter during dinner—again, mostly with Jesse and Nick. She tossed the occasional comment to Simon, but each time she did he’d have to rouse himself and she’d have to repeat what she’d said. In the end she left him to himself.
Which suited her just fine.
A more charitable part of her knew he must be jet lagged. If she’d flown into Sydney from London this morning, jumped straight into a hire car to drive three hours north and had then spent a couple of hours doing handstands and back flips on the beach, she’d be jiggered.
He’d do handstands with her on the beach, but he wouldn’t spare her son even half an hour to play cricket? What kind of Jekyll and Hyde did that make him?
What kind of idiot did that make her? What on earth had possessed her to offer him Felice’s old room? She wanted to take that offer back now, tell him to find some fancy hotel to book into. She wanted to forget how he’d made her feel like a princess in a fairy tale—beautiful, desired…at the centre of his world. It was hard to forget when he sat across the table from her.
The more rational part of her brain told her that kicking him out might be construed as a wee bit of an overreaction. He and Felice needed to sort out whatever it was they had to sort out. Build bridges. Mend fences. Instinct told her that would be important to Felice. Which would make it important to Danny. Which made it important to her.
Besides, kicking Simon out would mean admitting she’d placed too much importance on that kiss.
And she didn’t. Not now. She’d read more into it than she should have, that was all.
But as she stared across at Simon, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d got someone so wrong.
‘Are you really going to let them sleep out here all night on their own?’ Simon asked when Jesse and Nick dived into the tent with Game Boys, popcorn and torches.
It was the longest sentence he’d uttered since their set-to in the kitchen.
‘They won’t last past nine-thirty out here. They’ll freak each other out with ghost stories and end up in their sleeping bags on the lounge room floor. Why? Do you have a problem with children camping out?’
Stupid question. He had a problem with children full stop.
He shrugged, shifting on his seat. ‘I just thought it might be dangerous, that’s all.’
The sun had finally set and light from the house threw shadows across his face. It was hard to read his expression. ‘Dangerous how?’
‘I don’t know.’ He grimaced, clearly uncomfortable. ‘A tree could fall on the tent, they could get bitten by a spider, a stranger could take them.’
‘Any of those things could happen in broad daylight,’ she pointed out.
He shoved his chair back an
d shot to his feet. ‘I’m going to bed.’
He stalked into the house and Kate did not call a cheery goodnight after him. She didn’t trill, Don’t let the bedbugs bite. She didn’t tell him what time to set his alarm or what time they were having breakfast. No sirree. She kept her mouth well and truly shut. She’d opened her heart to him a little too quickly, a little too widely, earlier in the day. She had to find a way to close it again.
And keeping her mouth shut seemed a good place to start.
CHAPTER FOUR
SATURDAY dawned as golden and blue as the previous day. When Simon opened his eyes, the sunlight spilling in through the open window and across his bed melted the mist that had held him in thrall last night. All in one blink of his eyes.
He could not mess around with Kate Petherbridge.
Not for a casual holiday fling and not for anything longer term.
Jeez! He shot up and scrubbed both hands down his face before scratching them back through his hair. Definitely not for anything longer term.
He tossed the covers back, sat on the edge of the bed and cradled his head in his hands. He didn’t mess with single mothers.
Yesterday, down at the beach, the strange magic that had surrounded him for a while…he had to put that out of his mind. Put it down to relief at discovering Felice was okay, and the culture shock of finding himself on a warm beach in summer with a woman who didn’t care a jot about his title, about dignity, and who smiled as if she had sunshine in her soul.
It had all gone to his head.
A good night’s sleep had sorted him out, though. He’d be okay again now. But as he rose to walk to the shower he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so aware of his body—how strongly the blood pumped through his veins, how deeply he could fill his lungs, how tall he could stretch. This Nelson’s Bay of Kate’s seemed as magical and exotic as an Aladdin’s cave—a place that only existed in the imagination.
Simon pushed the thought out of his mind. He didn’t believe in fairy tales. No matter how hard the sun shone, today’s reality was dull, grey and unyielding.
He didn’t mess with single mothers.
He reminded himself of that fact fifteen minutes later when he made his way to the kitchen. Then he promptly forgot it.
Kate and Jesse sat at the table, haloed in all of their blonde glory by the morning sunlight that spilled into the room at every window. In fact, the room was more window than wall. It made him blink, but Kate and Jesse, faces alive with animation and at home in the sunlight, chattered away to each other about…birds? Simon had never wanted to sit himself down and join a conversation with as much hunger as he did now.
The chattering abruptly stopped. Two faces turned to the doorway as one, as if they’d sensed him there at the same time, both faces wary. Kate’s wary and shadowed, as if she hadn’t slept.
‘Good morning,’ she said, but her lips didn’t lift into yesterday’s ready smile.
‘Good morning,’ Jesse said, following her lead.
He had a feeling that as far as children went, Jesse was a good one. Which was another reason Simon had best keep his distance. ‘Good morning,’ he managed in return.
Kate pointed to the breakfast bar and an array of cereal boxes. ‘Help yourself. There’s bread in the breadbox for toast. Coffee’s in the pot.’
‘Thank you.’
Then she promptly turned back to Jesse and resumed their conversation, excluding him. Simon’s stomach filled with acid. Yesterday, for a while there with this woman he’d felt a part of something bigger than himself. It had probably been a mirage—a product of jet lag and relief…and a kiss that had blown his mind.
He rolled his shoulders and glanced at Jesse. He had to forget about that kiss. He didn’t want to be a part of something this big.
He poured himself a coffee, hesitated at one end of the kitchen table, but as Kate and Jesse’s conversation skittered to another halt and Kate’s shoulders stiffened, he forced his legs to carry him all the way to the sliding glass door and outside to the shabby but obscenely comfortable outdoor setting.
For some reason this eclectic collection of chairs around a scuffed wooden table—round so nobody sat at the head—made him smile. He’d seen enough of Kate’s remarkable home to know she wasn’t the kind of woman who would fit in at Holm House. He had a feeling she’d despise the fuss accompanying valuable antiques, the exaggerated care taken not to scratch or damage them, and the painstaking restoration of fabrics for sofas as stiff and uncomfortable as stone. Kate’s house was feet-up-on-the-furniture comfortable.
It suddenly occurred to him that in his private apartments he didn’t need to put up with the antiques either.
Kate stuck her head around the door and anticipation fired along each and every nerve-ending before he could stamp it out. If only she’d sit down with him for a minute…
‘If you still want to come out on The Merry Dolphin today—’
‘I do.’ The words shot out of him too quickly, but he couldn’t hold them back. He couldn’t mess with her. He couldn’t kiss her or make love with her—his skin tightened at the thought—or flirt with her or try to woo her or do any of the things his body urged him to do. But at least he could go out on her boat.
‘Then we leave in half an hour.’
‘I’ll be ready,’ he promised.
She glanced at his mug of coffee and he waited for her to tell him he should eat something, but she didn’t. She disappeared back inside and she hadn’t smiled. Not once.
‘Ready?’
Simon leapt up from the outdoor table. ‘Yes.’ He followed Kate and Jesse down to the bottom of the garden to a set of wooden steps he hadn’t noticed earlier. They led down into a park lined with flame trees and jacarandas, and around to a perfect crescent of golden sand.
Simon’s steps faltered as he took in a picturesque sheltered bay. ‘This is…’ he glanced back the way they’d come to see if he could glimpse a cave sparkling with gold and gems, and turbaned men whizzing around on magic carpets ‘…amazing.’
‘This is Dutchman’s Beach,’ she said, matter of fact. Jesse raced down to the beach. She kept to the path and didn’t lead him down to the sand. ‘Around the point is the marina, which is where we’re headed. Further around are Nelson’s Bay, then Little Beach where we—’
Everything inside him stiffened. He waited for her to say, kissed. The kiss grew shockingly vivid in his mind—the feel of this woman in his arms, the silk slide of her skin against his palms, the trembling of her lips beneath his and the taste of her.
‘Where we were yesterday.’
Her voice wobbled and he knew she remembered too. Then he remembered the things she’d said to him afterwards and a weight crashed down on his shoulders.
‘Large portions of the bay are a wildlife sanctuary,’ she continued, her voice determined now, with not a wobble to be heard.
Simon found it hard enough to walk in a straight line let alone talk too. He stared ahead at Jesse and told himself he could not kiss Kate.
‘For example, you’re not allowed to fish off the marina or the beach at Nelson’s Bay, and it’s forbidden to collect shells and seaweed along here at Dutchman’s.’
Just like it was forbidden for him to kiss her.
Kate continued her spiel, as if she’d memorised it for this precise purpose. He couldn’t focus on fishing and seaweed or environmental preservation. He concentrated on keeping his hands at his sides and prayed he made the appropriate sounds in all the appropriate places.
‘Watch your step,’ she called over her shoulder as she boarded The Merry Dolphin. Simon swore they both breathed a sigh of relief that they’d made it to their destination. The water in the marina was so calm he barely noticed the difference between pier and boat. He followed her past a steep set of stairs and down a short corridor to a generously proportioned lower deck.
‘Guess what, Mum.’ Jesse sat on the counter of a small two-sided bar. ‘Uncle Archie caught a snapper this
big yesterday.’ He held his arms wide.
From the size of Jesse’s eyes, Simon guessed he liked fishing almost as much as cricket.
‘Very impressive,’ Kate said.
A grizzled, grey-haired man stood behind the bar.
‘Archie, this is Simon, Felice’s brother.’
The two men shook hands.
‘Archie is my business partner. He and my father started the dolphin tour business over twenty years ago,’ she explained, but she didn’t look at him as she did so.
‘Did you use your new rod?’ Jesse asked. ‘Did you take a photo?’
‘Sure I did. It’s upstairs. Wanna take a look?’
When Jesse nodded, Archie lifted him down from the bar and, with a wink in Simon’s direction, ushered the child back the way Simon and Kate had just come and up the steep staircase. Kate immediately moved behind the bar and started stocking the refrigerator.
Simon stared at the spot where Archie and Jesse had been and then to the stairs. He scowled. He scuffed the floor with his shoe. Archie had that knack with kids that Simon utterly lacked.
Not that he’d tried to cultivate it. Experience told him not to bother.
‘Are you okay, Simon?’
He swung back to find Kate staring at him with a frown in her eyes and cans of soda clutched in her hands. ‘Yes.’ He settled his customary mask back into place. ‘Nice boat.’ He forced himself to glance around its interior. Then he did a double-take. ‘God, Kate! How big is this thing?’
‘The Merry Dolphin is nineteen point eight metres.’ And for the first time that day a glimmer of a smile hovered on her lips. He watched, he waited, he held his breath, but it didn’t break free. He dragged his gaze away, not wanting thoughts of kissing her to take over his mind again. He focused on the boat instead.
The bar stood on his left and on the right was a nook for making tea and coffee. Polished wood and brass shone in the sunlight pouring in at the windows. The wood-panelled walls gleamed, the windows sparkled and the rich brown of the carpet was reassuringly springy beneath his feet. Two rows of tables and chairs created an avenue down the centre of the lower deck leading to a small ladder and a pair of open glass doors that stretched out to the foredeck.
The Aristocrat and the Single Mom Page 6