When Harriet Came Home (14 page)

He muttered something beneath his breath, moved in even closer. “And now? Do you have any other, more pressing priorities now?”

The rasping note in his voice made her fingers curl into her palms. She couldn’t decide whether she wanted his next step to be toward or away from her. “Um, no…”

“So what’s stopping you?”

He was determined to get her into his car, that much was clear. It was also clear to her, standing there in the darkness, that she wanted to go with him.

She fished out her handbag from her car and hooked it over her shoulder. “Okay. Let’s go for a ride in your car.”

“Where are we going?”

“Nowhere in particular.” Adam slanted her a brief glance. “That’s the beauty of going for a ride. We can just cruise around for a while.”

Like a pair of teenagers looking for some action on a Saturday night, Harriet thought. Except she’d never done anything like this when she was a teenager. And she had no idea what kind of “action” was involved. They rolled down the quiet avenue. The street lights petered out after two blocks, and the night swallowed them up. The darkness pressed in on them from all sides, and the glow from the headlights made the interior of the car smaller, more intimate.

“Are you cold?” he asked, flicking on the heater.

She was shivering, she realised, not so much from cold but rather because of his nearness. “Thanks.”

He drove on without speaking. He wasn’t as relaxed as she’d first assumed. His hands gripped the steering wheel a bit too tightly, his shoulders were stiff, and there was a coiled quality about the way he sat, as if he were anticipating something. His suppressed tension rippled straight into her, feeding her own nerves until her body hummed with static.

She couldn’t bear the silence any longer. “What did you want to talk about?”

He flicked her another enigmatic look. “How’s business in Sydney? Are you busy?”

“I’m busy, yes. I have a lot of bookings…” She swivelled in her seat to peer at him. “Are you really interested in my catering company?”

“Of course I am.” He steered the car around a swooping bend before he continued, “Sounds like you didn’t suffer much loss of business because of your stay in Wilmot. I’m glad.” He slowed the car down, pulling off the main road and onto a narrow dirt track which wound its way through a stand of trees.

“Where are we?” she asked as the pale trunks of eucalypts reared up like ghosts in the car’s headlights.

“Don’t you know? We’re heading for the Lookout.”

The car bumped and crawled down the potholed track. Trees and bushes crowded around them, blocking out what little light there was. A minute later, they emerged into a clearing perched on a small promontory, and Adam brought the car to a halt just in front of a metal railing. The night sky arched high above them, while the valley below was a dark quilt stitched with threads and knots of lights. Adam switched off the engine, and the silence was dense, complete.

Harriet clutched at the leather handbag in her lap and blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “Is this where you used to bring all your girlfriends?” Oh, jeez. Now he would think she was comparing herself to his girlfriends. At least the darkness hid her blushes.

“Not
all
my girlfriends.” He turned to study her closer. “Just the naughty ones.”

Her blush deepened until she felt like a lit flare. His fingers brushed across her cheek, making her breath catch in her throat.

“Are you blushing, Harriet? You should know I’m only joking.”

She wriggled away from his fingers. “Sheesh, of course I’m not blushing.”

“Why don’t you relax? It’s a beautiful night tonight.”

“I can’t relax. I have an early start tomorrow.”

Silence throbbed for a beat. “In a hurry to get back to the city?”

She exhaled a quiet sigh. “I’m in a hurry to forget tonight’s dinner.”

He sighed too. “It could have gone better.”

He fiddled with the cuffs of his jacket, rearranged his long legs then cleared his throat. “So,” he said, “at high school did you really harbour a crush on me?”

She twisted the straps of her bag together. “Every girl in school harboured a crush on you.” She made light of it. “It was as mandatory as the plaid skirt we had to wear.”

“I’m not asking about every girl in school. I’m asking about you.”

His persistence chafed at her most sensitive spot. She shrugged in exasperation. “Yes, okay, I had a crush on you. Is that what you wanted to hear? Are you satisfied now your ego’s been sufficiently stroked?”

His body stiffened as if she’d slapped him across the face. He jerked his head away, so all she could see was his stern profile and a muscle ticking in his jaw. He stared out at the valley, but she knew he wasn’t even aware of the scenery.

“You know, my mother died when I was fourteen.” His voice was strained and unfamiliar. “My father tried to make up for the loss by giving me whatever I wanted. Overseas trips, electronic gadgets, expensive clothes, fancy cars. I thought I was really something. And I thought my dad was the bees’ knees. He could do no wrong in my opinion. So when you took those pictures of him, when you exposed his corruption, his infidelity, you tore down my hero. I couldn’t handle it. I was in denial. And I thought we had some sort of understanding after the bike incident. I felt you had betrayed me as well. It was so much easier to blame you instead of my father. Especially after you left Wilmot.”

He drew in a long breath, his eyes dark and intense on her. “You made a very convenient scapegoat for my misplaced anger. I’ve been condemning you all these years when instead I should have been making my peace with my father.”

The rawness in his voice bit into her. She touched his arm. “Adam, your father was a good man, but he was human, just like everyone else.”

“Yes, I know that now, but when you’re young it’s hard to accept the faults of a father.” He covered her hand with his, and his warmth instantly flowed into her. “And I also understand now why you did what you did. Why you took those photos of him in the first place.”

She stared at him. The intent expression on his face made the panic rear up in her. She tried to pull her hand free, but his grip tightened on her.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, the shaking pitch of her voice giving her away.

“Harriet…” He wrapped his fingers around hers in an inescapable knot. “Look at me.”

But she couldn’t. “You can’t possibly know.”

With his free hand he tilted her chin up. “I do know. Cindy told me last week.”

The shame in her coalesced into disbelief. “Cindy! I don’t understand. Why? Why would she ever tell you that…that…”

“That she had a secret affair with my father?” His mouth compressed to a thin line. “Yes, she told me everything.”

“Oh, God.” She wrenched her hand free and covered her eyes. For years she’d kept her sister’s secret, but now Cindy had blabbed and to the person who would be hurt the most. How could she do such a thing? Anger flooded through her. She lifted her head. “I’m going to kill her.”

Adam looked startled. “Why?”

“Because she swore me to secrecy. Because she had no right to tell you.” She balled her hands into fists. “She had no reason to cause you even more pain. Not now, after all you’ve been through…” Her shoulders heaved, and to her horror she sensed she was close to tears.

“I have to admit I was shocked when she first told me. I mean, I knew about my father’s other lovers, but Cindy was young enough to be his daughter!” He exhaled a deep gust of emotion. “But when I’d gotten over my initial outrage, I finally understood why you took those pictures of my dad. You knew about his other secret lovers, but Cindy didn’t believe you. So you decided to get some hard evidence, and you ended up getting more than you bargained for.”

Harriet couldn’t seem to swallow down the bitter lump in her throat. “I tried to warn her, but she accused me of being jealous. Jealous! How could she have thought that?” She sniffed and gulped. “But I guess I’m not totally blameless. I mean, I told myself I couldn’t stand by and watch her ruin her life, even though she was thoughtless and vain and superficial, but if I’m being truly honest, I’d have to admit I didn’t like being dismissed and ignored by my own sister.”

She paused and tinkered with the zip of her handbag as her memories roiled. “I started carrying my camera down to Patterson Park where I knew your father had his trysts, and where he also met that property developer. I think Cindy had dreams of becoming the next Mrs Blackstone. When I showed her the photos, she realised she’d been duped, and she couldn’t bear the thought of being publicly humiliated. I kept quiet about the relationship, and your father must have too, because no one was ever the wiser. She started dating Brett a year later, and they got married soon after. He seems besotted with her, so I don’t know why she’d want to risk everything by telling you about the affair.”

“She thought it was time it came out,” Adam said slowly. “She was trying to make amends.”

Still angry with her sister, Harriet shook her head. “How is that supposed to make amends?”

“She knew it was dragging both of us down, that I still harboured resentment, but now I know the whole truth, and I feel—” he let out a sigh, “—released.”

“Released? Doesn’t it revive all the anger and bitterness you’ve felt for so long?”

“No, it doesn’t.” He rubbed his fingers across the steering wheel. “I realise now my father couldn’t cope after my mother died. He indulged my whims, but he couldn’t confide in me. He neglected the business, ran into financial trouble and didn’t do anything about it. He tried to forget by having multiple affairs. He used Cindy, exploited her gullibility. I don’t feel any anger or bitterness toward her. Or toward anyone else.”

He leaned toward her and touched the curl of hair lying on her shoulder. “How about you, Harriet? Do you still hold any lingering anger and bitterness toward me?”

His light touch sent a quiver through her. “Me? Why would I?”

“Because I was such an arrogant smart arse when I was young. Because I was so full of myself. Because I was cruel and thoughtless.”

“No you weren’t,” she said quickly, too quickly.

He gave a rueful laugh. “I was. But you know I’m not that same smart arse anymore. I’ve changed.”

“I know that.”

“You’ve changed too.” His hand shifted and settled on her shoulder. As his eyes glimmered, her pulses started up a crazy drum beat. “I want…”

His words lingered in the darkness between them. She was sure he could hear the clashing of her heart; it seemed to fill every crevice in her head.

“Yes?” She gulped.

“I want a dance.”

She blinked. “A dance?”

“You turned me down at the Harvest Ball, but now you’ve got no excuses, and I’m out to collect.”

“You want to dance right here?” She glanced out at the night-soaked bush. “There’s no music.”

“I have music.” He rummaged through a collection of CDs in the storage compartment between them, and slid a disc into the CD player. He opened his door. “Come on, then.”

She climbed out of the car slowly, wondering at her folly. This was dangerous ground she was straying into. Here she had no place to hide, and she was running scared. Scared that he might guess her true feelings, that her whimsical crush had developed into fully fledged love with all its fangs and claws and blood. Yearning after Adam from afar was quaint. Loving him up close was simply frightening.

Adam had cut the headlights, so the only illumination came from the waning quarter moon and the splash of stars across the black sky. Her shoes crunched on the dry sand underfoot, and the air smelled cool and fresh, with the light tang of lemon eucalyptus.

The soft sounds of a slow jazz melody began to drift over them as Adam moved toward her, black on black, and held out his hand toward her.

“Shall we?”

She stepped into his embrace, and he wrapped his arm around her waist, drawing her close until their bodies brushed against each other. As they danced, he felt a quiver running through her body, a quiver she couldn’t suppress, and a surge of fierce satisfaction at the response she couldn’t hide warmed him.

The Milky Way soared over them; the night air brushed cool against the back of his neck. He closed his eyes, savouring the feel of her body so close to his, her soft scent of oranges and sugar tantalising him. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her, ever since that first evening he’d run into her at the hospital. And ever since she’d scarpered back to Sydney without saying goodbye, he’d been subconsciously counting the days until she would return.

She wouldn’t get rid of him so easily this time. He pulled her closer to him.

She turned her head, her hair flicking against his cheek, and his heart somersaulted at the contact. He had a sudden urge to bury his face in her hair.

“Our love is easy,” sang Melody Gardot. It was one of his favourite songs.

Was it that easy to love someone?

As the stars wheeled overhead, and the night crickets chirped, and they slow-danced in the dark, the answer came to him in a flash.

Yes. It was easy to love Harriet. He had been in love with her for weeks. He knew it to be true—there was no one else he’d rather be with. Not this minute, this hour, this night, or any other time.

“I wouldn’t have picked jazz as your kind of music,” she said.

He swallowed. His emotions continued to crash over him in waves. Could Harriet detect the change in him? Could he really be in love with this woman?

“No?” He managed to steady himself. “What kind of music did you think I liked?”

“I don’t know. Maybe hard rock.”

He laughed, finding a release for his tumult. He felt his chest vibrating against hers. The scent of her set off a hot rush of blood that raced through his veins straight toward his groin. He tried to put a few discreet inches between them, but his body refused and hugged hers even closer.

“What are you doing?” She sounded breathless. “I think you should stop.”

He didn’t want to stop. His hips pressed against hers, her thighs were taut and firm against him, and all he could think about was getting nearer.

“Is this what you always do out here?” Her voice was as stiff as her shoulders.

Great. His euphoria glided lower. She thought he was only interested in sex. Not that there was anything wrong with sex—in fact, the way his pelvis was nuzzling hers it appeared sex was the only thing on his mind—but he’d be damned if he let his roaring libido take over and ruin everything after all the effort he’d expended to get her here in his arms.

He swung her around in time with the music, determined she wouldn’t get the better of him. “I’m not doing anything except dancing.”