‘Well, you get the story. I wrote the copy for the client. There’s not much I don’t know about the merits of those candles.’ She was almost gabbling now to cover her embarrassment.
To seduce.
When he’d been nineteen, seducing Sandy had been all he’d thought about. Until he’d fallen in love with her. Then respecting her innocence had become more important than his own desires. The number of cold showers he’d been forced to take...
Thunder rumbled ominously over the water. ‘C’mon,’ he said gruffly, ‘we’d better turn back.’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Though I suppose it’s too late now for my birthday lunch...’ She hesitated. ‘Please—forget I just said that, will you?’
‘It’s your birthday today?’
She shrugged dismissively. ‘Yes. It’s nothing special.’
He thought back. ‘It’s your thirtieth birthday.’
And she was celebrating alone?
‘Eek,’ she said in an exaggerated tone. ‘Please don’t remind me of my advancing years.’
‘February—of course. How could I forget?’ he said slowly.
‘You remember my birthday?’
‘I’d be lying if I said I recalled the exact date. But I remember it was in February because you were always pointing out how compatible our star signs were. Remember you used to check our horoscopes in your father’s newspaper every day and—?’
He checked himself. Mentally he slammed his hand against his forehead. He’d been so determined not to indulge in reminiscence about that summer and now he’d gone and started it himself.
She didn’t seem to notice his sudden reticence. ‘Yes, I remember. You’re Leo and I’m Pisces,’ she chattered on. ‘And you always gave me a hard time about it. Said astrology was complete hokum and the people at the newspaper just made the horoscopes up.’
‘I still think that and—’ He stopped as a loud clap of thunder drowned out his voice. Big, cold drops of water started pelting his head.
Sandy laughed. ‘The heavens are angry at you for mocking them.’
‘Sure,’ he said, but found himself unable to resist a smile at her whimsy. ‘And if you don’t want to get drenched we’ve got to make a run for it.’
‘Race you!’ she challenged, still laughing, and took off, her slim, tanned legs flashing ahead of him.
He caught up with her in just a few strides.
‘Not fair,’ she said, panting a little. ‘Your legs are longer than mine.’
He slowed his pace just enough so she wouldn’t think he was purposely letting her win.
She glanced up at him as they ran side by side, her eyes lively with laughter, fat drops of water dampening her hair and rolling down her flushed cheeks. The sight of her vivacity ignited something deep inside him—something long dormant, like a piece of machinery, seized and unwanted, suddenly grinding slowly to life.
‘I gave you a head start,’ he managed to choke out in reply to her complaint.
But he didn’t get a chance to say anything else for, waiting at the top of the stairs to the hotel, wringing her hands anxiously together, stood Kate Parker.
‘Oh, Ben, thank heaven. I didn’t know where you were. Your aunt Ida has had a fall and hurt her pelvis, but she won’t let the ambulance take her to hospital until she’s spoken to you.’
SANDY WAS HALFWAY up the stairs, determined to beat Ben to the top. Slightly out of breath, she couldn’t help smiling to herself over the fact that Ben had remembered her birthday. Hmm... Should she be reading something into that?
And then Kate was there, with her worried expression and urgent words, and the smile froze on Sandy’s face.
She immediately looked to Ben. Her heart seemed to miss a beat as his face went rigid, every trace of laughter extinguished.
‘What happened?’ he demanded of the red-haired waitress.
‘She fell—’
‘Tap-dancing? Or playing tennis?’
Kate’s face was pale under her freckles. ‘Neither. Ida fell moving a pile of books. You know what she’s like. Pretends she’s thirty-five, not seventy-five—’
Ida? A seventy-five-year-old tap-dancing aunt? Sandy vaguely remembered Ben all those years ago talking about an aunt—a great-aunt?—he’d adored.
‘Where is she?’ Ben growled, oblivious to the rain falling down on him in slow, heavy drops, slicking his hair, dampening his shirt so it clung to his back and shoulders, defining his powerful muscles.
‘In the ambulance in front of her bookshop,’ said Kate. ‘Better hurry. I’ll tell the staff where you are, then join you—’
Before Kate had finished speaking, Ben had turned on his heel and headed around to the side of the hotel with the long, athletic strides Sandy had always had trouble keeping up with.
‘Ben!’ Sandy called after him, then forced herself to stop. Wasn’t this her cue to cut out? As in, Goodbye, Ben, it was cool to catch up with you. Best of luck with everything. See ya.
That would be the sensible option. And Sandy, the practical list-maker, might be advised to take it. Sandy, who was on her way to Melbourne and a new career. A new life.
But this was about Ben.
Ben, with his scarred hands and scarred heart.
Ben, who might need some support.
Whether he wanted it or not.
‘I’m coming with you,’ she called after him, all thoughts of her thirtieth birthday lunch put on hold.
Quickly she fastened the buckles on her sandals. Wished for a moment that she had an umbrella. But she didn’t really care about getting wet. She just wanted to be with Ben.
She’d never met a more masculine man, but the tragedy he had suffered gave him a vulnerability she could not ignore. Was he in danger of losing someone else he loved? It was an unbearable thought.
‘Ben! Wait for me!’ she called.
He turned and glanced back at her, but made no comment as she caught up with him. Good, so he didn’t mind her tagging along.
His hand brushed hers as they strode along together. She longed to take it and squeeze it reassuringly but didn’t dare. Touching wasn’t on the agenda. Not any more.
Within minutes they’d reached the row of new shops that ran down from the side of the hotel.
There was an ambulance parked on the footpath out of the rain, under the awning in front of a shop named Bay Books. When she’d driven past she’d admired it because of its charming doorframe, carved with frolicking dolphins. Who’d have thought she’d next be looking at it under circumstances like this?
A slight, elderly lady with cropped silver hair lay propped up on a gurney in front of the open ambulance doors.
This was Great-Aunt Ida?
Sandy scoured her memories. Twelve years ago she’d been so in love with Ben she’d lapped up any detail about his family, anything that concerned him. Wasn’t there a story connected to Ida? Something the family had had to live down?
Ben