Nick was still focusing intently on the paintings. Too intently, Rosie got the feeling. Again, she couldn’t quite figure out why. She let go of his hand and moved on just a metre to admire the mermaids but a life-size carving of a nude male then caught her attention.
The figure was carved from a lighter wood, giving it a realistic shine. It was so warm and lifelike she reached out, intending to run her hands over it, stopping when she realised what she was about to do and stealing a guilty glance about her. She wasn’t sure of the etiquette but didn’t imagine it was the done thing to touch artworks, especially when the subject was naked.
When her gaze settled on Nick, she found he’d emerged from his reverie in front of the painting and was looking in her direction. Had he seen her about to touch the figure?
Then she realised he was hardly aware of her and was looking at the carving, seeming somewhat bewildered. Was he doubting her artistic taste, admiring a naked man?
He gave her a brief nod, in an absent-minded fashion, before turning back to the painting. She would have gone back to his side but she was mesmerised by the carving. She checked the artist’s name and flicked through the catalogue, compelled to find out more. She wasn’t surprised to find the information on page fifteen. The artist was one of the two Alison had recommended. She was reading the biography next to a picture of the artist, a stunning dark-haired woman who looked mighty happy with herself, when a voice made her look up.
‘Nikolai!’
Nikolai? The slight pained expression that crossed Nick’s features told her that wasn’t his full name but an affectation on the stranger’s part. Rosie didn’t recognise the slim, blond man walking towards them but Nick clearly did. Rosie wasn’t at all sure Nick was happy to see him. The undercurrents she’d sensed with Nick over the last minutes deepened.
The man was by Nick’s side, draping a hand over Nick’s shoulder, leaning in to kiss him on both cheeks.
Nick seemed to be standing rigid and he simply stated, ‘Paulo,’ by way of greeting. The feeling of tension wasn’t dissipating.
‘What a surprise to see you.’ Paulo stressed the ‘you’. He waved a hand to indicate the carvings. ‘Blast from the past, yes? Miriam will be titillated to hear you were here.’
Rosie looked back at the catalogue in her hand, recalling the name. Miriam Te Rito, the artist. There was a photo, showing a tall, striking woman, her Maori lineage evident in the gorgeous creamy, caramel colour of her skin and the black hair falling past her shoulders in a shiny swathe. Was it just her imagination or was the woman exuding sexual energy even from the photo? Or was Rosie just picking up on the tensions simmering in Nick?
Pretty clearly, Miriam Te Rito was the artist Nick and his friend knew. The way he’d mentioned her, though, hadn’t implied there was anything out of the ordinary. The way he’d been acting since he’d seen the carvings and now since Paulo had arrived suggested something more.
With Paulo draped over him, Nick remained as stiff as a board while Paulo chirped a series of inanities that required no real answer from the man he was persistently calling Nikolai. There were serious undertones going on here and she had no idea what they meant, except that Nick clearly wasn’t comfortable. Now Paulo seemed to notice Rosie for the first time. And, more importantly, that Rosie was standing with the catalogue opened to the page with Miriam. He disentwined himself from Nick and stepped over to her.
‘You like Miriam’s work?’ His tone was confident, seemingly friendly, but again Rosie was sure there was a calculated desire to cause trouble behind the friendly façade.
‘She’s very talented. This one in particular is fabulous.’ She turned her attention back to the figure of the naked male, keen to disengage from Paulo.
The sculpted figure was lying on his side, facing the wall, one arm under his head, the other thrown across his face as if shielding it from the sun. The wood had a rosy glow and the sculpture gleamed in the light. The broad shoulders tapered into a narrow waist, continuing down into perfectly shaped, tight buttocks before the sculpture ended mid-thigh.
‘This is one of her best pieces.’ His tone was self-satisfied and Rosie waited for something more from him, some sort of dig at her, but he turned his back on her. Maybe he’d got what he wanted from their brief exchange? He turned back to Nick, effectively excluding Rosie and chatting just to Nick so Rosie couldn’t hear.
With Paulo’s eyes off her, Rosie gave in to temptation. Unable to resist any longer, despite knowing she would be betraying just how much she liked the piece, she reached out and ran a hand along the smooth curve of the man’s hip. Running her fingers up to the waist, she lingered, feeling the satin of the smooth wood under her fingers. The wood was warm to touch, adding to the lifelike appearance.
‘You can see she had—’ Paulo had once again swivelled to face Rosie, including her again, and a flicker of a smile appeared when he saw Rosie touching the piece of art. ‘You can see she had an ideal model.’ Paulo paused a moment, and Rosie instinctively knew it was for effect. He wanted Rosie’s full attention before he spoke again. ‘Nikolai, be a darling and turn around, see if Rosie can see the resemblance.’
Rosie snatched her hand away from the sculpture as though it had self-combusted. She stared at Nick. ‘This is you?’
He nodded, looking increasingly uncomfortable at the way things were going. Paulo’s gaze darted back and forth from Rosie to Nick, his smirk making it clear he was enjoying the impact he was making.
‘It’s good, isn’t it? It’s taken me a long time to convince her to be able to part with it.’ He touched Nick on the arm. ‘That would come as no surprise to you, Nikolai, given what you love-birds shared, but Miriam could no longer resist the sort of money this will fetch in Sydney.’
A thousand questions sprang to Rosie’s mind. Before she could ask any of them a short, very effeminate man bustled up to them and interrupted. ‘Paulo darling, come, there’s someone you need to meet.’
Paulo was whisked away, winking at Rosie as he left, leaving the two of them standing in silence.
For a good sixty seconds neither of them spoke, then Nick let out a soft whistle.
‘I’d have to say,’ he said, his tone dry, ‘that was one of the more awkward moments of my life.’
He’d managed to lighten the moment, enough for Rosie to try out her voice despite knowing her cheeks were still burning.
‘You’re embarrassed?’ She forced herself to look at Nick as if she wasn’t ready to crawl under the nearest installation and spend the rest of the evening hidden. ‘At least you knew it was you and didn’t stand here like a twit admiring it.’ She bit her lip. ‘Should I apologise for touching it?’
‘Touching?’ The grin he sent was lopsided, teasing and much too appealing. He’d recovered his equilibrium a lot quicker than she had. ‘I think caressing longingly would be a more accurate description.
‘Tell you what,’ he went on, when she found herself speechless with embarrassment, ‘this is not the most relaxing situation for either of us. Let’s go for a walk. I’ll give James a call and meet him in an hour or so. In the meantime, I think I’ve got some explaining to do. Besides,’ he added, his cheeky grin widening, ‘I need to get out of here, I’m not used to having my naked butt on full public display.’
She laughed at that, starting to relax at the mere prospect of getting out of there, away from Paulo and away from Nick’s perfect rear, or at least another woman’s representation of that part of his anatomy.
Rosie made her excuses to Ally, who squealed at the thought Rosie was leaving early with her hot man. At the front door she found Nick waiting for her, two glasses of champagne in his hand.
He handed one to Rosie as they left the gallery, saying, ‘Tonight, we’ve suffered for the sake of art. Consider this our compensation.’
Just outside, away from the din, Nick rang James, and Rosie stood pondering what tonight really meant. Especially the neonbright question: when had Nick posed for Miriam? And why?
‘James is fine with that.’ Nick came to her side and slung his arm around her for a moment, leading her away from the gallery. The sun had set but the night was still warm and the scent of frangipani was heavy in the air.
Together they walked where Nick led, crossing the road, heading towards the cliffs on the eastern side of Sydney’s South Head.
‘Where are we going?’
‘Macquarie’s Lighthouse. I guarantee there will be neither ex-partners, mine at least, nor naked sculptures there.’
The whitewashed lighthouse buildings were silhouetted against the darkness of the night and a curtain of stars draped across the sky as a background. A wooden bench sat just inside the cliff-top fence and Rosie perched on the backrest, her feet on the seat, Nick dropping onto the seat by her side. The smell of the sea drifted up from far below the cliffs and as she took a sip of her drink, the yeasty aroma of champagne filled her senses, replacing the salty tang of the sea.
‘For the record, I had no idea Paulo was going to be there tonight. James told me Miriam wouldn’t be there but I didn’t think about Paulo. He’s been Miriam’s agent for years but it didn’t occur to me he’d come across from New Zealand for the opening. Even if I’d known, I wouldn’t have thought much of it but it seems he was in the mood for trouble tonight. I also had no idea she still had the…’ Words seemed to escape him for the first time. ‘Still had the…’
‘Carving.’
‘That’s the one.’
‘Yes. The One.’ In her mind, she capitalised the piece of art that seemed now to stand as a barrier between them. ‘When did you sit for her?’
‘Years ago, before we were married.’
She’d just taken a sip of champagne and she choked on the bubbles, her throat stinging as she swallowed the mouthful too sharply. ‘You’re married?’ This was going from bad to worse. She was filled with a sensation which she suspected was jealousy and the champagne bubbles stung her nose.
‘Not now, we’re divorced.’
He seemed unflustered, her discomfort emphasising his calmness.
She scrutinised him through narrowed eyes. He didn’t look like the sort of man to be with the sort of woman she was sure Miriam was. For one thing, Miriam looked older than Nick. By quite a lot. And she looked hard. Self-interested, too. All that from a photo? Rosie quizzed herself. She conjured up the image in the photo again. Yes. She was sure of it. What would have brought them together?
She summarised those thoughts with a simple statement: ‘You don’t look divorced.’
‘Tell me.’ Nick was smiling up at her, the tension evident in him earlier seeming to have disappeared the moment Paulo had. ‘How does a divorcé look?’
At that, Rosie turned her hands palms up. She didn’t have the first idea what she meant by that. What she really meant was he didn’t look like he’d have married a woman like Miriam in the first place, but she could hardly say that. Could she?
He went on when she drew a blank. ‘I promise I’m divorced. I have been for two years.’
‘But she still has the carving?’ Somehow the carving was at the nexus of what was bothering her.
‘It looks that way. But what you’re really asking,’ he continued, precisely reading her unasked question, ‘is why.’ She nodded and he said, ‘You like it.’ He grinned at his thinly veiled reference to her clear appreciation of the piece. ‘Maybe she does too.’
Rosie resisted the urge to kick him for his light-hearted answer but couldn’t suppress a smile. There was a funny side to the chain of events of tonight, even if she wasn’t quite seeing the humour in it yet as much as he was.
‘Listen,’ he said as he raised himself up until he, too, was sitting on the back of the wooden bench. ‘I shouldn’t tease. I’m just trying to make the best of it.’
Rosie shook her hair back from her face, feigning a nonchalance she didn’t feel. ‘It’s fine. I’m j-just a little embarrassed that I—I was running my fingers over you,’ she stuttered, and corrected herself, ‘it, in front of you, not knowing.’
‘Don’t be, I’m flattered. It’s not every day I get to watch a beautiful woman stroke my—’
Rosie held up a hand, cutting him off, before hiding her face behind her hands as she spoke. ‘Don’t say it, don’t, I’m only just coping now.’ Which was true, but embarrassment was only part of what was eating at her.
None of this was a big deal. It didn’t matter he was divorced. It shouldn’t matter she’d just been stroking a lifesize, naked representation of him right in front of him.
True, that was embarrassing. Cringe-worthy, in fact, but nothing she couldn’t cope with.
It also shouldn’t matter that the carving had been created when he and Miriam had been involved.
But there she came unstuck because it did matter. A lot.
Why? It was proof positive Miriam had affected him in a way Rosie had been daydreaming of doing. She didn’t think for a moment that Nick was harbouring regrets and wishes of reunions with his ex. She didn’t know how she knew that—body language, woman’s intuition—but she knew it just the same. The rub wasn’t there. The sting was she’d been making do with fantasies and pretending to be happy with the story about being just friends. But being confronted by the knowledge Nick had been seriously involved before had blown apart her pretences. She could no longer deny what she wanted.
What she wanted was Nick.
She’d not only been bitten by the green-eyed monster, she was right this minute being devoured by it.
She wanted to be special to Nick. All she’d had was a kiss on the cheek.
She’d been happy to play it safe. But now it wasn’t enough. Now she’d seen evidence that he’d had more than that, but with someone else.
She wanted that someone to be her.
For the first time the mantle of being a responsible aunt and guardian sat heavily around her shoulders. Before, she’d entertained fantasies of going wherever Nick cared to take her, but she’d known they were just that: fantasies. Daydreams she wouldn’t actually act on, events she knew wouldn’t happen anyway. Now? She didn’t begrudge the twins a moment of her time, she’d never regret changing her life to care for them. But she wanted Nick, too. There was no denying it. Fantasies weren’t enough to satisfy the desires he’d stirred in her.
Her whole life she’d put everyone else first. Someone asked for help, she was the first to jump. For once, did she dare to not question every damn move she made or, in her case, didn’t make? Could she go after what she wanted purely because she was the one wanting it?
Could she push things between them a little harder or was she only ever going to play life safe?
A fling, that was all, it didn’t have to undermine her commitment to the twins. They didn’t even have to know! It would all be over soon enough, there wasn’t enough of her left to be looking for real involvement.
Safety or desire, fulfilling duty or pursuing what could be an incredible experience?
It all came down to one thing: was she prepared to risk falling flat on her face?
Or wasn’t she?
CHAPTER SEVEN
WATCHING the display of emotions flickering across Rosie’s face made Nick’s heart leap. He was right, the spark of attraction was definitely not one-sided. But why did the timing have to be so lousy?
He’d almost kissed her twice before tonight and each time common sense had stopped him. After the day he’d had he’d probably missed his chance altogether. There were issues at work that had arisen today that needed serious consideration, meaning he couldn’t afford distractions, and, as if that wasn’t bad enough, seeing Paulo had hit him between the eyes with a stark reminder of Miriam. His involvement with her was the main reason he was now scrabbling to play catch-up with his career and finances. The reason he’d pledged not to get involved with another woman. He had things to do—security, stability, success to build, to recapture.
Then his thigh brushed against Rosie’s and he was aware of her right arm resti
ng inches from his. She smelt of roses, just like her name, and she was delectable. And therein lay the dilemma.
Could a kiss be just a kiss?
Could he kiss her and remain steadfast in pursuing his goals?
A kiss wasn’t a declaration. It didn’t mean he was getting distracted from his mission to rebuild his life, to make it damage-proof.
A kiss couldn’t undo all the progress he’d made to rebuild his life. A kiss didn’t have that sort of power.
Then he looked sideways right into Rosie’s eyes and almost laughed out loud at what he’d been thinking.
Rosie’s kisses would have the power to do all sorts of things.
He’d been swayed from his course in life before, badly. He’d promised himself not to let that happen again, under any circumstances. So the fact that Rosie had him thinking about straying from his course was the best evidence that he should steer clear.
For both their sakes.
He’d turned his head and their eyes had met and this time she was certain she’d read his intention correctly. He was about to kiss her. She leant in ever so slightly, prepared to take the risk, prepared for this to be a one-off. She had to know what his lips felt like on hers, how he tasted. A kiss could just be a kiss. She needed it, needed it just for her, wanted something just for her.
And then, ever so slightly, he moved back a little.
The spell was broken and, instead of kissing her, he said the thing she’d have least expected. ‘I should explain about Miriam.’
She was at a loss for words.
Truth be told, she’d been dying to know how Miriam fitted into Nick’s life since the moment she’d arrived on the scene. But couldn’t it wait until he’d actually kissed her? Or was that the problem? Had thoughts of Miriam intervened?
Her frustration and curiosity made her words sound uptight and offended. ‘You don’t have to, it’s none of my business.’
‘No, except if things were different, for both of us, I’d be kissing you right now.’ He raised one finger and ever so lightly touched her bottom lip. For a brief moment she was in danger of swaying right off the back of the bench, but the touch was over almost the moment he’d made contact. ‘But as much as I want to, I can’t. My life is complicated right now.’
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