And perhaps her efforts to curb her growing obsession might have worked if she and Daniel hadn’t shared that intimate conversation after dinner. How could she not feel emotionally involved with him now?
Thing was, she had no idea how he was feeling. He’d been gone all day—working on one of Ironbark’s distant boundaries—so she hadn’t been able to gauge his mood. Now, she felt ridiculously nervous.
In the bathroom mirror, she saw a sudden rush of colour in her cheeks, almost as deep as her crimson T-shirt. Fool.
She quickly ran a comb through her damp hair, straightened her towel on the rail, took a deep breath and opened the bathroom door.
Daniel was standing just outside, dressed in his working gear. His shirt was crumpled and dusty, his face streaked with sweat, and his jaw shadowed with dark stubble. But he was—in a word—breathtaking.
‘I—’ She passed her tongue over lips that were suddenly dry. ‘I guess you’d like to use the bathroom? I’ve just finished.’
He didn’t answer straight away. He simply stood there, looking at her, letting his eyes travel slowly over every detail of her appearance—from her damp hair hanging loose about her shoulders, to her halter-neck red T-shirt and white jeans, to her bare toes with their pearly pink nail polish.
His Adam’s apple moved up and down in his throat.
And Lily literally couldn’t breathe. Thoughts of his kiss filled her head. The memory of it teased her lips. It shimmered alive in the air between them.
A strangely strangled sound, a cross between a gasp and a sigh, escaped her. ‘If you’ll let me past,’ she said, in little more than a whisper, ‘the bathroom’s all yours.’
Slowly, too slowly, he stepped to one side, and Lily edged past him. She could smell the not unpleasant mix of dust and manly perspiration that clung to his clothes, and she felt a shocking need to stay right there in the narrow hallway, almost touching him. Almost… Almost…
‘Did you go for a swim today?’ she asked.
Fool! She’d been thinking too much about his body. What a dumb, dumb question.
Daniel grinned. ‘Yeah. Smiley and I both had a cooling dip in the river around noon.’
Quickly she hunted for a change of topic. ‘I—I hope you didn’t have anything special planned for dinner?’
‘Nothing that would smell as good as what you have cooking.’
‘I—thought I’d save you the trouble.’
‘Great thinking, Lily.’ He smiled lazily. ‘I like the way you think.’
The terrible thing was, Lily was quite sure Daniel knew exactly what she was thinking. And he knew it wasn’t about dinner.
Again, she felt a need to moisten her lips. ‘Dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes. I’ll—um—just be setting the table.’
She turned and fled to the kitchen.
The table took two minutes to set, and Lily found herself pacing nervously.
‘How silly is this?’
Smiley, watching from a corner, wagged her tail, and Lily consoled herself that at least one member of the household was becoming more relaxed. Smiley might not have lost the anxious and haunted look of a war refugee, but she had come ahead in leaps and bounds as a tail-wagger.
We need music, she decided, but not the radio tonight. She went through to the living room. She’d already checked out Daniel’s CD collection when she’d dusted this room. He had a rather extensive mix, covering everything from heavy metal back to the folk groups of the sixties. There was even some opera. She chose something soothing, but just a little moody.
And then she went back to the kitchen and stood at the sink, looking out at the bush. A kookaburra was perched on a fencepost, its beady eye fixed on something in the grass. A light breeze fluttered the pink feathery tops of the grass at the edge of the track, and the kookaburra swooped, then took off again with what looked like a lizard in its beak.
Nearby, in the home paddock, the red heifer grazed while her new calf slept at her feet.
‘Oh, so you’ve set the table in here?’
Lily spun around at the sound of Daniel’s voice. He’d shaved and changed into clean stone-washed denim jeans and a white shirt. He looked drop-dead divine.
A sweet pang pierced her chest, and she had to cling to the edge of the sink. Oh, heavens, I’m in love with him.
Daniel was frowning at the seersucker tablecloth and the blue and yellow china she’d set on the table.
‘Is something wrong?’ she asked.
‘I reckon this meal tonight deserves something a little better than the kitchen. And, as you’ve done such a great job on the veranda, why don’t we eat out there?’
He smiled. Gorgeously.
Was it her imagination, or was there something new in his voice? Almost as if he’d made a conscious decision to put the darkness of his past behind him this evening. Perhaps last night’s confession really had helped him. The thought excited her as she began to gather up the things on the table.
Daniel stopped her with a hand on her wrist. ‘Let me look after this.’ In an easy movement, he hooked a chair in each hand and carried them out onto the veranda, set them beside a cane table. Then he disappeared into the dining room and emerged with a white tablecloth. Soon he’d added silver cutlery and his best, elegant china—white, edged with gold.
‘Oh, wow! This is lovely. We should have candles and flowers, too.’
He scratched his head. ‘I suppose there must be candles here somewhere.’
‘I think I saw some in the sideboard in the dining room.’
While Daniel went in search of candles, Lily hunted in the weed-tangled garden and found three creamy gardenias.
‘Perfect,’ Daniel said, when she placed the flowers on the table between two tangerine candles in glass holders. They stood looking down at the elegant table they’d created, and the gardenias’ sensuous perfume drifted up and around them.
‘All we need now is the food and wine,’ said Lily.
‘And sunset. Followed by moonlight.’
‘Yes.’ Her heart leapt into her throat, and she couldn’t help wondering where all this was leading. Was it merely a pleasant meal? Or something more? She was intensely aware of Daniel, of the way he looked, of his every movement.
In the kitchen she took the casserole from the oven and carried it outside. She heard the clink of glasses and the pop of a cork as Daniel opened the wine she’d brought on that first night. Music drifted through the open French doors, and down near the creek curlews sent out their haunting calls.
The veranda was bathed in the golden light of sunset. The candles glowed like little warm home fires. Everything looked so romantic, and she felt strangely light-hearted. Happy.
They sat, and Daniel poured wine into their glasses. ‘I spent long, long months dreaming about sharing a lovely meal like this, out here on this veranda,’ he said.
Her throat tightened at the thought of all the meals he’d had on the prison farm, day after dreary day, for eighteen long months. ‘Here’s to good times ahead, Daniel.’ She touched her glass to his.
‘Good times indeed.’
They tasted their wine—a full-bodied South Australian red—rich and mellow.
Daniel looked at her. ‘It’s time to make amends.’
‘What for?’
‘You have to admit I haven’t been the easiest to get along with.’
His sincerity flustered her. ‘Don’t worry about it. It’s understandable…all things considered.’ She lifted the lid of the casserole pot and warm cumin-and-chicken-scented air rose between them. ‘Are you ready to eat?’
‘Absolutely.’ He sniffed appreciatively. ‘That smells amazing.’ And then, as he tasted the food, ‘It is amazing. This is sensational, Lily.’
She tried not to look too pleased.
They talked about Ironbark, and Lily learned that three generations of Daniel’s family had lived on this property, that his parents were quite elderly now and had moved to Brisbane, where his older bro
ther lived.
‘I’m surprised your family didn’t look after the property for you while you were away,’ she said, trying not to sound too shocked by their lack of support.
He shook his head. ‘Mum and Dad are too frail now, and my brother’s just not interested. He actually urged me to sell up. He offered to invest any profits in the stock market.’
‘How kind,’ Lily said, doubtfully.
‘Bill was trying to do the right thing, but he doesn’t understand how I feel about Ironbark, and he doesn’t see its massive potential. If I ever get this place back to its full carrying capacity, it’ll bring bigger returns than any investment he’s ever made.’
‘What does your brother do?’
‘He’s a dentist.’
‘A dentist? Did he grow up here with you?’
‘Until we went to boarding school. He fell in love with the suburbs—couldn’t wait to have a neat brick home, with a neat little wife, a rotary clothesline and two-point-four kids. Bill’s never looked back.’
Lily looked out at the extravagant sunset and the purple hills, the peaceful, lavender-tinged paddocks, and choked back a laugh. ‘He gave up a chance to live here, like this, to stare down people’s mouths and drill teeth?’
‘As fast as he could.’
They exchanged bright glances of mutually amused disbelief.
‘It takes all types,’ she said.
Daniel sent her a sparkling, skin-crinkling smile.
Oh, man—when he decided to smile properly, he pulled out all the stops. Suddenly overcome, she dropped her gaze. She let a small piece of chicken slip to the floor for Smiley, and watched the morsel disappear in one blissful doggy gulp.
Daniel lifted his glass again, but paused with it halfway to his lips. ‘Now it’s your turn,’ he said. ‘I want to hear about you, Lily. Tell me about Sugar Bay. How long have you lived there?’
It was a revelation to discover how pleased she was that Daniel wanted to know.
‘I was born in the bay,’ she told him. ‘I went to school there, but there weren’t many jobs for young people, so I moved to Sydney when I was eighteen.’
He seemed surprised. ‘Why Sydney? It’s a long way from home.’
‘I was restless. You know how it is when you’re eighteen. Far-away places seem more exciting. And I knew a guy from the bay who’d already moved there.’
‘A boyfriend?’
‘Yes.’ To her amazement, she was able to speak about Josh without the usual accompanying lurch of her heart.
‘So…how did you take to life in the Big Smoke after the peace and quiet of Sugar Bay?’
Looking up, she saw that Daniel was watching her carefully, and she sensed a sudden alertness in him, almost as if her opinion of Sydney was important. Why? What did Sydney mean to Daniel?
‘I loved it,’ she told him honestly. ‘I was lucky enough to share a flat in one of the beach suburbs, and my boyfriend Josh helped me to find my first job—working in a video store. Once I found my feet, I got a job with a community radio station. Then I signed up for a part-time course in photography and scored a job on a suburban newspaper. A couple of years later I had a really lucky break—hitting the big time with a job on a fashion magazine.’
‘As a photographer?’
‘Mmm.’ She nodded and sipped her wine.
‘So, what happened to the boyfriend when you went to Sri Lanka?’
She shrugged carefully. ‘He was ancient history by then. Already moved on to greener pastures.’ Wow! She’d actually said that without a wobble.
‘And the job?’
‘I had to resign.’
Daniel’s eyebrows lifted high. ‘That’s a tough call.’
‘Not really. Not for a girl who’s grown up in the bay. When I saw the terrible damage after the disaster in South-East Asia, I couldn’t bear it.’
‘A lot of people couldn’t bear it, but you took action, Lily.’ He said this gently. ‘That’s pretty special.’
She shrugged again, and ate a forkful of lentils.
Daniel leaned forward, eager to make his point. ‘Most people are moved by terrible disasters. And a lot of us have good intentions. But we don’t actually down tools, give up secure jobs and rush over there to help.’
‘Other people don’t have a role model like mine.’ She drank some more wine. ‘Fern, my mum, has spent her whole life helping others—delivering their babies, taking them food when they’re sick, giving them a bed when they’ve nowhere to sleep. I guess that sort of thing rubs off on you.’
He sent a glance along the veranda. ‘So, all this is your mother’s fault?’
‘All what?’
‘My beautifully clean house.’
‘Oh? Well, yes. You can blame my mother for all my bad habits. Without her influence I would never have barged in here, taken over your house and turned it into a showpiece of rare and distinguished beauty.’
They both chuckled.
After a bit, Daniel said, ‘You’re very close to your mother?’
Lily nodded. And then she pictured Fern as she’d seen her last, looking too tired and in too much pain, barely able to walk, and she sighed heavily.
‘Something the matter?’
‘My mother’s not well.’
His eyes were instantly shadowed with concern. ‘That’s a worry for you.’
She tried to make light of it. ‘Fern would insist she’s OK. It’s just a bad hip—nothing life-threatening—just incredibly painful.’ She looked away to the last of the sun—a thin golden line along the distant tops of the hills—and she wondered if it was her turn to confide.
‘I’m afraid she’ll need a wheelchair before too long,’ she said. ‘And her beach cottage has tiny rooms, uneven paving and misshapen doorways. It’s going to be totally unsuitable. But she’s like your old neighbour. She won’t hear of living anywhere else.’
‘It’s a dilemma, isn’t it?’
‘It would all be solved if she had a hip replacement. Actually,’ Lily added, ‘Fern’s problem is the reason I’m here.’ It was best that she told him everything. ‘I’m waiting to meet with someone on Friday. Someone I hope can—can help.’
‘Someone out here?’ He couldn’t hide his surprise.
‘A—a family connection. Audrey Halliday. She was married to my father.’ She paused briefly. ‘Marcus Halliday.’
‘The artist? The guy with the big house overlooking the river bend?’
‘I haven’t been to his house, but that sounds like the sort of place he’d like.’ Her hand tightened around the stem of her wine glass, and she set it down for fear she’d break it. ‘Marcus died a month ago.’
Dismayed by the tremble in her voice, she said brightly, ‘But I don’t want to get into all that this evening. This is an important celebration.’
He considered her for a thoughtful moment, and then, to her relief, he seemed to accept her lead.
‘Absolutely.’ Lifting the bottle, he topped up their glasses.
By the time they’d finished their meal and the wine, night had fallen. The CD had stopped, the birds had gone quiet, and the only sound was the occasional thump of Smiley’s tail and the muted buzz of insects in the grass.
And, in the midst of the peacefulness, a question that had been building and building inside Lily for the past twenty-four hours—twenty-six and a half hours to be exact—simply begged to be asked.
She tried to ignore it.
But after the mellow wine and the chummy conversation, and the intimate mood on the veranda, she found its pressure irresistible. Like an erupting volcano, it burst from her.
‘Daniel?’
‘Yes?’
‘Do you really think it was a mistake to kiss me yesterday?’
As soon as the question was out, she felt foolish. Was it a mistake to kiss me? That sounded so dumb. How old was she? Twelve?
What she should have asked Daniel was whether he would like another serving of rum-and-raisin ice-cream. Sick and shaky in
side, she began to gather up their plates and cutlery.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Clearing the table,’ she said, without daring to look at him.
‘Why?’
Her head jerked up. ‘Because—because these plates are—’ There was a disturbing light in his eyes. ‘To make room for dessert,’ she finished lamely.
‘But you asked me a question. Don’t you want to hear the answer?’
Her mouth opened and shut.
Daniel stood slowly. ‘If these dirty dishes bother you, let’s move away from here.’ He nodded towards a spot near the veranda railing—just out of the reach of the candles’ light.
Lily rose, and her knees became so suddenly weak she almost fell over. Daniel took her hand and held it lightly as they walked away from the table. He leant a casual hip against the railing and kept her hand in his.
He looked down at her fingers, curling around his, and her heart went crazy, like a bee in a bottle.
‘Was it a mistake to kiss you?’ he asked, and his voice was honey-smooth and molasses-dark—and her insides went into meltdown.
Could he possibly understand how she felt about him?
He raised his other hand to brush her earlobe with his finger, and she decided he knew exactly how she felt. He knew she wanted to drift closer, to curl into him and to feel his lips claim and possess hers.
But then, without warning, his hands dropped away and he turned from her and stared out into the night.
No!
Was he going to tell her again that the kiss had been a mistake? She didn’t think she could bear it.
‘I was selfish, Lily.’ His voice took on a flat, world-weary tone as he stared ahead into the darkness. ‘I kissed you yesterday for all the wrong reasons.’
Her heart seemed to slip from its moorings. How could Daniel change from being so confident and relaxed—and seductive—and now, suddenly, be so stern and remote? Again?
‘Daniel, please, you don’t—’
‘I kissed you,’ he continued relentlessly, as if he needed her to know the worst, ‘because everything about you drove me to.’
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