Daniel's Bride (15 page)

The door slid shut behind him.

“Great,” she muttered. The next few months were clearly
going to play out in front of her like a long, torturous prison sentence.

She went to the phone and dialed her mother’s number for
their daily chat.

I’m doing this all for you, Mum, she whispered, and she knew
it would be worth it. Even though in this ridiculously short space of time,
with a man she barely knew, she was beginning to fall in love.

He’d apologized to her. He’d as good as groveled. Surely
that was enough.

Daniel reached the bottom of the elevator shaft, and
hesitated. He should go back up. Apologize again.

He turned, reached to push the button to his apartment, then
stopped

No. Tension rippled through his body and he made his way to
the car park. He wasn’t going to apologize to Melinda again. It was becoming a
habit and he did not care for it. The first day he’d met her, he’d apologized,
for goodness sake.

If he had any sense, he wouldn’t do anything that required
saying 'sorry' in the first place.

He got in his car, and headed down the road, but the picture
of Mel wouldn’t leave.

Nor would the look on his Grandfather’s face when he’d
promised him he’d look after Barnaby.

Mel changed into shorts, a white t-shirt, and laced up her
trainers. She checked out the window down towards the beach. The sky was blue
with floating wisps of clouds; another beautiful day. She grabbed sunglasses
and a baseball cap and in the kitchen, filled a bottle with water, and located
plastic bags for any Barnaby deposits.

“Walk, Barnaby,” she said. His ears perked up. She took the
leash and waggled it. Instantly, he was at her feet, tongue hanging out, stumpy
tail wagging crazily. She attached the leash and grabbed her keys from the
counter.

As they went down the lift, she thought back to her mother.
Ellie was feeling all right, but from Mel’s side of the conversation, it had
been strained. She should never have called her when she was so het up over
Daniel. She’d had to respond to questions she didn’t know how to answer,
especially when it came to questions about who she worked for. She’d downplayed
it, but felt guilty as sin lying by omission.

It was more a case of not getting her mother worried and the
less information she gave her mother at this stage, the better. A young woman
living in with her employee was not all that common and her mother had been
openly curious.

As they stepped outside, Barnaby began to strain at the
leash. When they’d gone to collect him from Sir Arthur’s place, his housekeeper
had mentioned he hadn’t been walked in a couple of days. He’d had space to run
around the garden in the secure fully fenced grounds but had seemed to lack
energy. Because he knew what was happening, Mel thought.

She breathed in the air, and decided to take him down to the
beach. She wasn’t sure if he was allowed – some beaches didn’t allow dogs, but
they could at least walk along the footpath, and she’d enjoy the views.

She stepped out on the footpath when Daniel’s Audi suddenly
pulled up beside her. She was tempted to keep walking.

He wound his window down. “Mel, wait.”

Her pulse skipped a beat and she tightened her grip on
Barnaby’s leash. “Your grandfather’s dog needs walking.”

“Wait here. I’ll join you.”

She balked, and turned to stare at him. “You’ll do what?”

“Two minutes. Wait here.”

The car screeched off to the ground level car park.

“Always giving the orders,” she sighed, as Barnaby sat on
the pavement. He looked up at her, mournful, sad.
Lost
.

“You and me both,” she muttered, stroking his back. But
Daniel had come back. For some reason he’d turned around and come back.

A minute later he came striding out to join them.

“I’ll take the leash.” He was about to reach out but he
stopped. “If you want me to.”

She shrugged, and handed it over. “We’re going down to the
beach.”

They turned on to the main road and began to walk down to
the beach. They’d gone barely fifty feet before Daniel sighed. “Mel, I’m sorry
about what I said.”

She opted for silence, but her heart pounded loudly in her
chest. It was hard not to be aware of him. She focused on Barnaby running ahead
happily, stopping every so often to sniff at grass or a new smell on the
footpath. At this rate it would take a long time to get down to the beach.

“There is a lot at stake,” he went on. “This business has
been my life – all my life. But it isn’t just about me. It’s about thousands of
employees; it’s about contracts with other companies. I made a commitment to my
grandfather to run this company the way he ran it for his family. Most of the
time it means working seven days. It’s what I’ve always done.” He looked at her
hard, searching. “You must see that.”

“I do see it.” The problem of course was that this wasn’t
just a financial arrangement as he’d said at brunch yesterday. It had evolved
rapidly into something more for her, something she was at a loss to control.

Barnaby came to a complete stop at a tree, sniffing crazily.
“Barnaby misses your grandfather,” she said then.

Daniel looked as though he hadn’t even considered that. “I
suppose he does.” He shrugged and stared at the dog. “He looks normal to me,
though. How can you tell?”

“He’s just – sad.”

“Looks pretty happy. If you let him off the leash, he’d run
for miles.” He grinned suddenly. “At least as far as those stumpy legs will
carry him.”

His grin was infectious and she felt some of the tension
lift. “It’s going to be hard at night.” They stopped as Barnaby finally lifted
his leg against the tree, and they both looked away, as if to afford him some
privacy. “He used to sleep in your grandfather’s room in his basket,” Mel
added.

Daniel’s lips flattened. “Are you suggesting I should have
him in my bedroom?”

She gave a half snort. “You’d scare him half to death.”

Daniel looked affronted and it was all Mel could do to not
laugh out loud.

Barnaby strained at the leash and as they neared the beach,
Mel realised there were more people milling around than one would consider this
far out from summer. A lot of them, she observed, were already taking advantage
of the surf.

“I think I read something about this.” They stopped to read
a sign on a street pole. “They’re gearing up for swimming season in a few
months, holding lifesaving demonstrations.”

Daniel glanced out at the gathering crowd. “I’m sure this is
enough for Barnaby. We should head back.”

They’d barely even got here. She shook her head. “You can if
you want but I think I’ll stay. It’s a beautiful day and it’s not too crowded.”

Daniel gazed out across the surf. “I used to do a bit of
surf lifesaving when I was at university.” He paused, reflectively, and added,
“It seems a lifetime ago now.”

“You were a surf life saver?” This was new to Mel and she
scrutinized him. It wasn’t a chore to imagine. He was strong, and had broad
shoulders. Swimmers shoulders, she realised now. He probably swam laps in the
company pool a few times a week.

The unreality of it struck her hard. She was married to the
man and she still knew so little about him.

He turned to her now. “Are you sure you want to stay and
watch this, Mel?”

“It would be nice to stay.”

“Then I’ll stay, too.” They found a grassed spot where they
could sit and watch. Barnaby looked exhausted, and a fellow dog walker loaned
them his dog’s water bowl, which amused Daniel no end as Mel poured water from
her bottle into it and Barnaby lapped thirstily.

A pair of surf lifesavers ran in front of them, dressed only
in blue and black club Speedos.

He glanced to see if Mel had noticed. She had.

A feeling pitched in his stomach as her gaze followed the tan
legs, six pack stomachs and muscular shoulders.

She glanced up at him. “I can’t believe you used to be a
surf lifesaver.”

He eyed her warily. “Why? You don’t believe I can cut it in
speedos?”

Her eyes widened. “No, I’m sure you’d look very…” She appeared
to be lost for words and gestured in the vague direction of the groups.

“Not out of place?” he said in a low voice.

She was refusing to look at him and it was all he could do
not to turn her face to him so he could see what she was thinking.

He leant back, crossed his ankles and glanced out at the
sea. It had been years since he’d relaxed like this. Even the day he’d met Mel,
he hadn’t been relaxed – he’d been wound tight.

He shut his eyes for a second against the brightness of the
sun. “I did a couple of seasons when I was a student. Arthur encouraged me. He
was a great swimmer, summer and winter. He was a member of the Bondi Icebergs
for years. He taught us to swim when we could barely walk.” He opened his eyes
and watched her stroke an adoring Barnaby. “Did you ever hear about the Black
Sunday tragedy in 1938?”

She frowned. “It’s familiar.” She shook her head.

“It was here at Bondi. There was a series of massive waves
and hundreds of swimmers were swept out to sea. It was horrific, people
fighting for their lives. The club saved over 300 lives in that one afternoon
but five people died. Arthur was one of the swimmers that was saved. He never
forgot it. And made sure we never did either.”

“I do remember now. It’s hard to imagine how terrifying it
must have been, to be enjoying a swim then suddenly being caught up in waves
like that. I can see why he encouraged you.” Her gaze was drawn to another
couple of men running down to the water.

An emotion stirred hard in his gut, and he shifted
uncomfortably. It was new to him. Maybe it was jealousy. He glanced at her.
“Yet you seem to find it so hard to believe I did a few seasons surf
lifesaving. Why is that?”

“Because...” She shrugged. “Because that’s such a normal
thing to do. You’re not a normal person.”

He should have been insulted but instead he found himself
intrigued. “I’m not normal?”

She turned to him, her eyes serious, her voice incredulous.
“No, you’re not what I’d call a normal person by a long shot. You’re incredibly
wealthy, you’re clearly intelligent, and you’re incredibly sexy. No normal
person gets all that in one package. God or whoever just doesn’t do it. But
with you...”

She looked as though she’d said too much, and she suddenly
bent and fussed over Barnaby.

Daniel went still as he replayed what she said in his mind.
Or at least, the last bit. Incredibly sexy. She thought that about him? Not
just “okay looking” but incredibly sexy?

He watched her closely. She patted Barnaby. Handed the bowl
back to the other dog owner. Stared out to sea. Looked as tense as a violin
string wound too tight.

But what had she actually meant by it? That he’d been
blessed with good genes, that he punished his body with work outs, that he wore
Italian suits well. It meant nothing. She probably thought the guys running along
the beach were sexy too.

Her hair had fallen around her face, and in the sun, red
shimmered off her brown hair. And what does it matter what Melinda Green –
Melinda Christie – thinks about you? Why does it suddenly seem to matter so
much?

She turned to him, met his gaze. He’d been caught, like an
adolescent ogling the girl in the seat in front of him.

“Maybe,” he said suddenly, “I should get into my speedos,
and head out to join in the carnival.”

Her eyes widened, and he watched her take a sudden intake of
breath. His gaze slipped to the smooth lightly tanned skin of her neck as she
swallowed.

“You didn’t bring them,” she said, turning away.

And it occurred to him, she hadn’t complimented him as
something to be proud of, something she was happy to have in a husband.

The tone of her voice had indicated the opposite.

She had said them as something to stay away from.

Daniel opened the door the following night to find Hugh
standing there.

“This is a surprise,” Daniel told him.

He didn’t bother to hide his suspicion as to why, at eight
o’clock on a Monday night, Hugh was there. If an urgent matter had come up,
Hugh would have phoned. As it was, they’d crossed paths during the course of
the day and taken turns in the large chair at Arthur’s bedside. Mel had come up
to the hospice briefly with the digital camera loaded with photos of Barnaby
she’d snapped in the weekend. She’d given Arthur details of the excursion down
to the beach, and he’d managed to tell her, very briefly, the story of Black
Sunday before he’d tired himself out.

Grief sat permanently at the edge of Daniel’s heart, but he
wouldn’t allow it in. There was a time for that but this wasn’t it, not yet.
Even though it was there, waiting to pounce and catch him.

“I’m checking up on you,” Hugh said finally. “Seeing how
you’re coping.” He reached over, gripped Daniel’s shoulder in an affectionate
gesture. As he did, his gaze slipped through to the living areas beyond. “Are
you going to invite me in,” he asked. “A coffee would go down well about now.”

“Of course.” Daniel stood aside, and gestured through to
where Mel was sitting on a leather couch in blue jeans and a red t-shirt. “Be
my guest.”

Hugh sat on the leather chair, with Mel curled up on the
sofa opposite, sewing a small quilt by hand. Or at least, she was sewing
something that was patchwork. It was too small to be a quilt, Daniel realized
now.

Hugh leant forward. “What’s that, Mel?”

She held up the fabric of browns, greens and blues, a
quarter the size of the purple and pink square she’d made for her mother.

“This,” she told him, “is for Barnaby.”

“Barnaby?” Daniel walked through and nearly spilt coffee.
“Are you seriously making one for a – for the dog?”