Love or Money (22 page)

‘Sorry. It's a done deal. You signed the blank contract before you left, remember.'

‘I'll find Borlotti,' she choked. ‘I'll beg him. Threaten him. Whatever it takes, I'll—'

‘I'm beginning to think I might have been wrong about you.' Hamish said. Was that a supercilious grin creeping across his face? ‘You have a certain…ruthlessness I hadn't noticed before.'

‘Well, about time, Mr Bourke. But the property. Borlotti. I've absolutely got to find him. Where on earth could he —'

‘Borlotti didn't buy it.'

‘Who did?' she choked. A long, suspenseful Hamish Bourke silence unfolded.

‘Us.'

A dump of multi-coloured emotions cascaded over Erin — relief, bewilderment, hysteria, worry. Could it mean the property was safe? A stray tear trickled down her left cheek. What on earth did he mean? The silence settled. Hamish's grin grew. He allowed himself a soft chuckle.

‘But — we — you — you can't afford it,' Erin said eventually.

‘Not true.' His smile hinted at more surprises. ‘I've come into a bit of cash since you left. And more to follow. I'll tell all later. Had a little chat with my friendly banker. More than enough for bridging finance for the property, he says.'

‘I don't understand. You mean you're a millionaire?'

‘Not quite yet. But —'

‘Well, how could you…'

Still grinning, Hamish reached for a pale blue paper that lay on his desk.

‘Perhaps you'd like to take a look at your contract, Ma'am.' He pushed the paper towards her and watched as she snatched it off the desk.

He didn't have to tell her he'd printed it just minutes before. Early that morning, after he'd climbed up from Sea Eagle's Nest, he'd sprinted home for a hot shower, then hit the office and his laptop. Erin took the paper, scanned it, saw the box marked Purchaser. In it she read the names

Erin Catherine Spenser

Hamish Rutherford Bourke.

You mean we both bought it? But how can that —'

‘No,' he said. ‘A partnership bought it.' He grinned. ‘A legal partnership. That means a legal entity. Spenser and Bourke. Which is quite different from sweety-pie Erin and good old Hamish, you understand.'

‘You mean Spenser and Bourke Inc.?' Erin asked, still reeling from her jetlag, the taxi ride, and shock of the spinning whirlpool she'd just fallen into.

‘Yes,' Hamish said. ‘But forget the Inc. We're not incorporated. Not yet, anyway.' He looked into her puzzled eyes, wanting to kiss away the perplexity, but resisting for the moment.

‘Here's how it works,' he said. ‘I put in half the agreed price. You don't put in a cent. We sign a few things. Then the partnership owns the property.'

Erin stared at him, gasping with relief that she hadn't lost the property, but still not understanding what his fixed grin was about.

‘If you want the contract to read, well — a little differently, here's another version,' he said. Still grinning, he pulled another blue paper from a drawer and handed it to her. Again, her eyes locked onto the Purchaser box. As she read, still trying to catch up with the whole confused string of happenings, she watched him trace the newly printed words with a finger, heard him read aloud, voice just above a whisper.

‘Purchaser, Erin Catherine Bourke, Hamish Rutherford Bourke,' he read, his grin a mile wide. ‘I'd be happy to run with that version of the contract. If you'd be happy to sign.'

‘But — that's not my name.'

‘Would you like it to be?'

‘Hamish?' Her heart thudded like an out-of-control steam hammer. ‘Are you — are you — proposing?'

He jumped from his chair, grabbed her, kissed her. Wildly, like in her dreams. The kiss engulfed her. She pulled him close, felt his arms crush her. They flowed towards the old leather sofa, fell on it, a tangle of arms and legs. His hands slid over her shoulders, down to her waist, cupped her hips. A second later, he pulled back from the kiss. She saw his eyes flick to the open door of his office.

‘One second, Ma'am,' he whispered. He disentangled himself, stepped to the door and closed it softly. Erin guessed that Jenny would arrive at work any minute. Perhaps she already had. Hamish strode back to the sofa, sat beside her, took both her hands in his.

‘Ms Spenser. Do you think we could get — would you like to — will you marry me?'

She looked into his eyes — saw them smiling into hers.

‘I love you, Erin.' He waited.

‘I — believe you.'

‘And?' He waited again.

‘I love you, too, Hamish. You could never, never know how much.'

‘I did ask you a question,' he whispered.

She looked down at the tanned hands holding hers, looked up into the tall rangy man's eyes. Then she turned to the window, caught a glimpse of the sea, the embrace of the forested hills. A picture of the cottage popped into her mind — the garden, the circle of trees, the blue ocean in the background. She saw a child — no, two — rolling, laughing on the lawn. A huge blue towering wave of happiness reared over her. Then it broke, drowning her in joy.

‘Yes!' she shouted.

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ISBN: 9780857990570

Title: Love or Money

Copyright © 2013 by Peter McAra

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