‘So am I—very private,’ she said shortly then relented as Charlie’s expression became wounded. ‘Look, it was just one of those...things. He got furious with me over the accident. I got furious with him because I thought he was arrogant and high-handed and it all seemed to blow up again into—’ She stopped and took a breath then said laconically, ‘If I hadn’t slapped his face I wouldn’t have got myself so thoroughly kissed.’
‘Slapped his face!’ Charlie was wide-eyed and incredulously admiring.
‘Yes,’ Harriet replied shortly. ‘Not that I’m proud of it, but he did call me Stretch, which is something I can’t abide. And that is the last word I intend to say on the matter. So, off you go, Charlie, please. I need to concentrate on this recipe.’
* * *
The studio that had been converted from stables was a pleasure to work in. There was plenty of light, plenty of bench space, a lot of shelving, a sink, even a microscope as well as a computer.
But, of course, the other thing that made Harriet feel at home was Tottie’s presence. The big dog became her constant companion. They went for walks together. They went down to the beach and they visited the stables together, where Harriet made special friends with one of the horses, a bubbly grey mare that went by the name of Sprite.
Stan, the stable foreman, offered to let her ride Sprite, if she rode, which she had as a child, but she declined and contented herself with taking the mare carrots every evening.
And there were other times when Harriet caught herself talking to Tottie as if she were human.
She’d wondered how Isabel would take this but it only amused her. ‘She’s always been Damien’s dog,’ she told Harriet, ‘but of course he’s away a lot so she doesn’t get to see that much of him.’
* * *
So far as the business side of her stay at Heathcote went, one thing Harriet had insisted on was a system whereby all of Damien’s mother’s treasures were dual-catalogued. In other words, Isabel handled them first, kept her own record, then handed them over to Harriet.
‘Did you think we’d not trust you?’ Isabel had asked curiously when Harriet had suggested the scheme. ‘You come so highly recommended.’
‘It’s always better to be safe rather than sorry,’ Harriet had replied. ‘This way we’re both protected.’
And Arthur, who drove up from Ballina occasionally, agreed.
* * *
Three weeks after she’d arrived at Heathcote, it was a glorious summer’s day and she and Tottie went down to the beach. No one else was home. Charlie had gone back to his base and Isabel, who sat on several committees, was in Lismore helping to co-ordinate a charity drive and was spending the night with a friend.
They were the only ones on the beach, she and Tottie, and they frolicked in the surf and played with a ball until finally Harriet called out that she had to get back to work.
But something else had engaged the dog’s attention after she’d dropped the ball at Harriet’s feet. She stiffened, growled low in her throat and then took off like a shaggy arrow in full flight.
Harriet turned and discovered there was a man standing beside her towel where she’d dropped it on the grass verge above the beach—a man Tottie obviously knew because she skidded to a halt in front of him, barked with obvious joy this time, and leapt up to lay her paws on his shoulders—Damien Wyatt.
Harriet froze. Then she swallowed nervously as their last encounter and the last thing she’d said to him, the insult she’d offered him, stood out clearly in her mind.
Plus, even from further down the beach she could see he was wearing a suit, just as he had the day of the accident when he’d been so angry.
She hesitated and looked down at herself. Her lemon and lime flowered bikini was reasonably modest but it was still a bikini and she would have much rather been wearing a boilersuit or a combat uniform with all its paraphernalia for this encounter.
There was nothing for it, however, than to stroll up the beach, to say hi as casually as she could and to pick up her towel and wrap it around her. Perhaps then she could say something along the lines of You’re home early! or Welcome home! I have enjoyed Heathcote— Stop it! she commanded herself. Just do it...!
It was a nerve-racking trudge up the beach but, when she was halfway there, Tottie came prancing back to her with delight written into her movements and a smile on her doggy face.
In fact Harriet had to grin in spite of herself, so infectious was the dog’s enthusiasm.
‘Hello, Damien,’ she said as she reached him, almost confident that Tottie had eased the situation for her. She certainly didn’t trip or fall as she picked up her towel and wrapped it around her sarong-wise but then she glanced up at him and things changed.
He wore a grey suit with a white shirt and a dark blue tie but he’d loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. His hands were shoved into his trouser pockets.
And it struck Harriet like a blow to her heart that she’d fooled herself over the past weeks. Fooled herself into believing she’d completely rationalised the effect Damien had had on her.
More than that; she’d buried herself in his mother’s treasures and convinced herself she wasn’t even thinking of him. Only to know now that he’d been there on the back roads of her mind all the time; he must have been because every intimate detail of the passionate encounter they’d shared came back to her.
Not only did they come back to her but they trapped her into immobility, with her breathing growing ragged and her senses stirring as she stared at him and thought of the feel of his tall body against hers, the delight his hands had wrought on her.
Trapped her staring at him as a sea breeze lifted his dark hair off his forehead and brought her out in goose bumps—was it the breeze or was it part of the effect he was having on her, so she couldn’t speak, she couldn’t tear her eyes away?
Then she noticed he was watching her just as intently and there was a muscle flickering in his jaw that told a tale of its own as his gaze slid down to her legs, barely hidden under the towel.
Tottie came to the rescue. She bunted them both playfully, as if to say—Come on, you two, don’t just stand there!
Harriet had to relax a little and smile. So did Damien.
He also said, ‘I hope my dog has been taking good care of you?’
‘She’s been a very faithful friend these last couple of weeks.’ Harriet squeezed out her hair. ‘I didn’t know you were coming home.’
‘No.’ His dark eyes lingered on her figure and her legs again below the towel. ‘Something came up unexpectedly. You look...well.’
Harriet smoothed the towel. ‘Thanks.’ Her voice was husky and she cleared her throat. ‘So do you.’
A smile appeared fleetingly in his eyes. ‘We sound like a mutual admiration society, a stilted one at that. But anyway, how’s your brother?’
He turned and indicated they walk up to the house.
‘He’s making good progress and I’ve enrolled him as an external student at the Southern Cross University in Lismore.’
‘What subject?’
She grimaced. ‘Sports Psychology. I was hoping to wean him away from that kind of thing but—no go.’
‘Better than nothing—a lot better,’ Damien commented.
‘Yes—ouch.’ Harriet stopped walking as she stepped on a stone in her bare feet.
He stopped immediately. ‘All right?’
‘Yes!’ She stood on one leg and awkwardly tried to examine the sole of her other foot. ‘Oh, it’s nothing, I’ll be fine.’
‘Here.’ And, before she knew what he was about, he’d picked her up and was carrying her towards the studio.
‘You don’t have to do this,’ she protested after a silent, shocked couple of seconds.
‘Too good an opportunity to a
llow to pass, on the other hand.’
‘Mr Wyatt—’
‘Ms Livingstone?’ he parried. ‘Surely we can go one step further—upstairs?’ he asked as they arrived at the studio.
‘Well, yes, but—’
‘What I mean about one step further is surely we can use each other’s given names now,’ he said as he mounted the stairs and sat her down on the refectory table and examined the sole of her foot.
‘Well, yes,’ Harriet conceded and immediately felt like a broken record.
‘Good. There’s nothing wrong with your foot. You might have a bruise, that’s all.’
‘Thank you.’ Harriet rested her palms on the table and could think of not another thing to say.
Damien Wyatt grimaced. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘I seem to have rather bowled you over. Why don’t we go our separate ways for the next couple of hours—I’ve got things to do anyway—then have dinner?’
Harriet licked her lips. ‘I was planning to work.’
‘Say that again.’ Something rather chilly entered his eyes.
She blushed. ‘I...’ But she could only gesture helplessly.
‘Still running away, Harriet?’ he said softly.
‘I...’ She trailed off then gathered herself. ‘There’s nothing to run away from but—’ she hesitated ‘—if you don’t mind pasta you could come here for dinner.’
He looked surprised.
‘What?’ she queried.
‘I guess I wasn’t expecting that.’
‘You may have some preconceived ideas about me that influence your judgement; you obviously do,’ she retorted.
There was a challenging glint in her eyes as she continued. ‘Uh, let’s see.’ And she started to tick off her fingers. ‘Head-in-the-clouds, accident-prone, academic—oh, let’s not forget superior and neurotic. No wonder you were surprised to be asked to dinner!’
His lips twisted and he looked about to reply, then as if he’d changed his mind. He did say, ‘I’ll look forward to it. Around six? I’ll bring some wine. You can stay,’ he added to Tottie, who was looking visibly torn as he walked to the door.
Harriet stared at the doorway for a long moment after he’d disappeared then she clicked her fingers and Tottie came to the refectory table and put her chin on Harriet’s knee with a soulful sigh.
‘You could have gone with him,’ she said as she stroked the dog’s nose. ‘I’d quite understand. He may not appreciate divided loyalties. In fact I get the feeling he’s a hard man with a lot of hang-ups.’
Tottie sat down and thumped her tail on the floor.
Harriet smiled then slid off the table and glanced at the kitchen clock and discovered she only had an hour to shower and change as well as produce dinner.
But when she reached the bathroom, she dropped the towel still wound round her and stared at herself in the mirror. Then she closed her eyes and breathed deeply as every sensation she’d experienced from the moment he’d picked her up in his arms and carried her upstairs to the moment he’d sat her down on the table—and beyond—came to her again.
The easy strength that had made her feel quite light despite her height. The movement of his muscles against her body, the feel of his heart beating against her as her own heartbeat had tripled. The hard wall of his chest that made her feel soft and so sensuous. The pure aroma of man she’d inhaled with delight...
She opened her eyes and stared at herself in something like shock as she thought—this can’t go on!
* * *
It was a hurried shower she took. And she pulled on a pair of grey leggings patterned with white daisies and a white cotton shirt with puffed sleeves. She tied her hair back severely with a pink ribbon and didn’t bother with any make-up, not that she needed any; walking in the sun and swimming in the sea the past few weeks had given her a golden glow.
* * *
‘This is delicious but—correct me if I’m wrong—it’s not pasta,’ Damien said.
He’d changed into a denim shirt and jeans and they sat opposite each other at the refectory table that Harriet had set with blue woven mats, matching linen napkins and one of her herbs in a colourful pottery pot.
‘Changed my mind,’ she confessed. ‘It’s paella.’
‘What’s it got in it?’
Harriet rested her elbows on the table and dangled her fork in her fingers. ‘Let’s see, chicken and prawns, rice, saffron, of course, tomatoes, onions, garlic, baby peas—that’s mainly it. I guess people have their own variations but that’s mine.’
‘If you’d told me I could have brought some Sangria.’
Harriet put her fork down and picked up her wine glass. ‘It’s a very nice Beaujolais.’
‘Thanks. So,’ he said thoughtfully, ‘cooking is another of your accomplishments. You’re a talented girl.’
‘That’s about the sum of it, though,’ she said wryly. ‘And I don’t think I was born to cook. It came about through necessity.’
‘How come?’
She explained about how she’d grown up.
‘So that’s why you’re so protective of your brother,’ he commented. ‘I suppose in a way I’m the same with Charlie. Our father died when he was seventeen. I’ve been standing in loco parentis ever since.’ He grimaced.
Harriet pushed her plate away and picked up her glass. ‘Charlie’s a honey,’ she said warmly.
Damien narrowed his eyes. ‘He hasn’t been chatting you up, has he?’
‘Not at all. He’s been trying to pin me down, if anything. As in trying to work me out. He believes, he says, anyway, I’m not like anyone else he’s met. Mainly, from what I can gather—’ she shrugged ruefully ‘—because of my work ethic.’
‘How’s it going, work-wise?’
Harriet studied her wine. ‘Another week should do it.’
‘You would have finished before I came home, if things had run to schedule, in other words.’
Harriet took a sip of her wine, put the glass down and plucked a basil leaf from the herb pot and crushed it between her fingers. ‘Yes.’
He shrugged. ‘Still hell-bent on being fancy-free, in other words?’
‘Ah.’ Harriet got up and collected their plates. She took them to the sink then opened the fridge and withdrew a lemon meringue dessert. She put it on the table, together with a tub of ice cream.
‘If that’s meant to placate me,’ he said with a sudden wicked gleam of amusement in his dark eyes, ‘you’ve hit the right button, ma’am. I cannot resist lemon meringue. Just don’t tell the cook. He believes he and only he can make a perfect meringue. Incidentally, I’m in his black books.’
Harriet looked a question at him.
‘He wanted to cook dinner for me.’
She smiled absently and set a coffee pot on to percolate. ‘You’re popular.’
He didn’t respond and she sat down and served his dessert in silence.
‘What about you? Of course,’ he said, ‘you don’t have a sweet tooth.’
She nodded and he ate in silence until he said, ‘You know, you haven’t tripped or spilled anything tonight, which means you must be feeling more at ease so—can I put a proposition to you?’
Harriet blinked several times. ‘What?’
‘That we at least agree we have a rather devastating effect on each other.’ He paused as Harriet looked away at the same time as she coloured.
‘Yes,’ she said after a long moment, and started as the coffee began to perk.
‘I’ll get it.’ He got up and, without much fuss, found mugs and milk and sugar. ‘However,’ he continued, ‘for reasons best known only to us, we’re not keen to—start anything.’ He looked briefly amused. ‘Sounds a bit juvenile, doesn’t it, but you probably get my drift.’
Harriet nodded.
&
nbsp; ‘Incidentally, why did you,’ he said as he began to pour the coffee, ‘ask me to dinner tonight?’
Harriet hesitated. ‘I...I felt I owed you some explanation.’
He sat down. ‘You don’t “owe” me anything,’ he said abruptly.
‘Mr...Damien,’ Harriet said sternly, ‘you told me once you didn’t appreciate being told what you should or should not feel, didn’t you?’
He grimaced. ‘Did I?’
‘Yes! Well, I’m telling you I feel as if I owe you an explanation and that’s that—damn!’ she said with great feeling. ‘Now you’ve got me all...’ She trailed off frustratedly.
‘Het up about nothing?’ he suggested mildly.
She cast him a speaking look. ‘Do you want to hear this or not?’ she asked acerbically.
‘Go ahead.’
‘I fell in love. I...’ She paused. ‘I guess you could say I gave it my all. And we had...we did have some wonderful times. But then he noticed another woman and I could literally feel him slipping away from me. That’s why...’ She stopped.
‘That’s a fairly common thing to happen,’ he said slowly. ‘How long ago was this?’
‘A year or so ago.’ She shrugged.
‘That’s all?’ he queried with a frown.
No, it’s not all, Damien Wyatt, Harriet thought, but that’s all you’re getting, well...
‘Well, I’ve wondered ever since whether I brought it on myself. I guess...’ she twined her fingers together ‘...I may have been looking for someone to take over my life. No...’ she frowned ‘...not that exactly, but someone I could depend on to make the right decisions for us. Rather than me having to, as I seemed to have grown up doing.
‘But when it started to fall apart I couldn’t help thinking I may have come across as too “needy” and it was probably a relief for him to get away,’ she said with a wave of her hand. ‘I still don’t know the answer to that but, whatever, I’m not prepared to go through all that again. I thought...I should explain, though.’ She hesitated because, of course, there was more but telling anyone was something she’d never been able to do yet...
Their gazes caught and held.
An Exception to His Rule Page 5