When Harriet Came Home (7 page)

“I’m meeting some friends there. I should be back by the afternoon.”

Harriet drew in a breath and said, “I don’t think it’s a good idea to leave Jarrod here today. Dad needs his rest, and Mum isn’t coping well.”

Cindy stopped dead in her tracks. “Oh. And you?”

“I’ll be out most of the day, looking for supplies for the Harvest Ball.”

“Perfect.” Cindy dumped the kiddie bag at Harriet’s feet. “Jarrod loves driving around in the countryside. And you can use my Land cruiser because Nikki is picking me up from here. The keys are still in the car.”

Harriet planted herself in front of her sister before she could escape. “Wait, not so fast. I love Jarrod, but you can’t just dump him on me without warning while you go gallivanting off with your friends.”

Cindy’s jaw dropped. “But I’ve been looking forward to this trip for weeks. I never get to have any fun these days.” She blinked her heavily mascara’d eyes several times almost as if she were fighting back tears. “Come on, Harriet. All I’m asking is a few hours of freedom. Can’t you do me this one little favour?”

Harriet felt herself wavering before she stiffened her resolve. “Cindy, I’ve got appointments with suppliers all around Wilmot, and it’s going to take me most of the day.”

A bright yellow convertible pulled up at the curb and tooted three times.

“Can’t you do that another day?”

Harriet shook her head. “I don’t have much time to get things organised. I’m sorry, sis.”

Cindy pouted. “Oh, all right, then. Damn. I suppose I’ll just have to tell Nikki to go without me.”

Cindy started toward the convertible. She dragged her feet and slumped her shoulders. She looked like she had a date with an executioner. Harriet sighed.

“Okay, I’ll look after Jarrod, but just this once.”

Cindy spun round, her face lighting up. “Really? Oh, you’re a star.” She began to run toward the convertible before Harriet could change her mind. “Bring Jarrod back to my house after three. I’ll be back by then. Toodles!”

Harriet watched as her sister made her escape. At least she had saved Jarrod from a sulky mother for one day, but she couldn’t leave him with her parents. Her father would quickly become worn out by the three-year-old’s high-pitched energy, and her mother had already cried this morning.

Harriet sighed and hitched the kiddie bag on to her shoulder. Looked like she’d be playing Auntie Harriet today.

Using her right shoulder, Harriet shoved open the door to Cindy’s house. Draped over her other shoulder was the limp body of Jarrod, his face miraculously angelic in sleep. She crab-walked inside and staggered down the hallway toward the kitchen. She regarded herself as a fit, strong person these days, but it amazed her how heavy and cumbersome a three-year-old could be when he slept. His bulky head slipped forward. Anxious not to let him slide off, she paused to rebalance her load.

“I’ve got him,” said a familiar voice. Strong hands lifted the child out of her arms.

She watched in surprise as Adam strolled over to a couch in the family room and gently laid down the boy. Without a sound Jarrod curled up beside a cushion and continued sleeping.

“Isn’t Cindy home?” Harriet asked.

“No. I’ve been working here all day and haven’t seen her. Isn’t she in Newcastle?”

She inspected her wristwatch. “Yes, but she said she’d be home after three, and it’s almost four.”

Adam shrugged as if Cindy’s tardiness came as no great surprise. “You look beat.”

Under his scrutiny she shifted self-consciously. Her T-shirt was rumpled and bits of hair had escaped from her ponytail. “I’ve had Jarrod with me all day.”

“All day? That’s generous of you.”

He was dressed in his khaki work trousers and an olive T-shirt that hugged the muscles of his chest. He didn’t have his tool belt, and he’d taken off his work boots, revealing thick black socks covering his feet. When she lifted her gaze back to his face and discovered the tiniest grin there, she realised she’d been caught staring at him, and a wave of heat rose in her cheeks.

“We’ve been driving around the countryside looking for lemon myrtle and honey. I found a wonderful farm growing all kinds of Australian bush foods like bush tomatoes, and native plums. They’ll be able to supply me with all the lemon myrtle I need.” She spoke quickly, aware she was almost babbling, hoping to draw attention away from her hot cheeks. “And honey’s no problem. There are three honey farms in the area.”

“Sounds like you had a productive day at least.” He picked up the kettle and turned on the sink tap. “Cindy lets me have the run of the kitchen, which is handy when my thermos runs dry. I was just about to make myself a mug of tea. Can I make you one too?”

“That would be great.” Her throat was parched after her long day. “I’ve had to sing ‘Little Bunny Foo Foo’ about a hundred times today. It’s the only song Jarrod likes when he’s bored.”

Adam’s grin widened. “And did the Good Fairy turn the bunny into a goose?”

She smiled at him. “You know the lyrics?”

“Hey, I was three years old once, too.” He swung toward the counter as the kettle began to boil.

She watched him make the tea. Impossible to think of Adam as a three-year-old. He was such a manly hunk now—she couldn’t drag her eyes away from him. She found him even more attractive now than a decade ago. His muscled body was sculpted not by gym machines but by hard, honest labour. He didn’t need fancy clothes or cars or an illustrious pedigree to enhance his attractiveness. He wore his masculinity with deep maturity, without a shadow of swagger. His privileged world had been destroyed, and somehow from that destruction, he had carved out his own niche and become his own man. She admired him for that.

“Let’s sit outside on the deck.” He held out two steaming mugs of tea. “That way I won’t muck up Cindy’s place, and we can still keep an ear out for Jarrod.”

They sat down on the wide wooden steps leading from the deck down to the lawn.

“Where are your workers today?” She gestured toward the silent building site of the pool house.

“Tony managed to put a nail through his toe, so Ivan’s taken him to the hospital.”

“Ouch.” She winced.

“He’ll be more afraid of the tetanus injection.” Adam didn’t look very sympathetic as he stretched out his long legs. “They’re good workers, but sometimes the pair of them are like Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dumber. When Tony recovers he’ll get an earful from me about why he didn’t have his safety boots on.” He took a swig of tea from his mug and studied the half-finished pool house. “I don’t have time for stupid accidents. We’re behind schedule as it is, and I have other projects backing up.”

Harriet glanced down at her tea. “I hear Cindy’s been chopping and changing her mind about the pool house. It must be very frustrating for you.”

“It’s my own fault. I knew what she’d be like before I took on the job.” He gave her a long, considering look. “You know, you two couldn’t be more different if you tried.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” She forced a light laugh to her lips. She paused, thinking about her sister. “Cindy is just like my mother. When Cindy was still living at home, they were more like sisters than mother and daughter. They’d always be doing their nails or talking about fashion and hairstyles.”

He leaned back on one elbow and cradled the mug in his palm. “Did that make you feel left out?”

“Left out?” She studied her fingernails, remembering her mother and Cindy giggling together, and decided to be honest with him. “Yeah, I guess. I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t feel a teensy bit left out, but—” She expelled a small sigh.

“But what?”

Harriet shrugged. “I was never into clothes and makeup like they are. I never understood their obsession. Besides, I knew I’d never look half as good as Cindy.”

He stared into the depths of his mug, a slight frown on his brow. “That’s not true, you know.”

She chewed on her lip. Somehow their conversation had veered into deeply personal territory. She wouldn’t normally talk about her sister and mother so candidly, but something about Adam had unlocked her tongue.

“It’s the truth. Oh, I know Cindy’s a bit too loud for some tastes, but you’ve got to admit underneath all that bling she’s stunning.”

He swirled the contents of his mug, his frown deepening. “Yeah, but so are you.”

She heard his words, but they didn’t sink in at first. When they did, heat raced across her cheeks, licking her skin to a fiery colour.

“Oh, please.” She waved her hand. “You’re embarrassing me.”

He compressed his lips, and his eyes grew even more intense. “You shouldn’t be so self-deprecating.”

Adam thinks I’m beautiful.
The incredible notion flashed through her scrambled brain. Past boyfriends had told her that before, but their views counted for nothing compared to Adam’s. He was more to her now than just an old high school crush, and his opinion of her mattered in a very real and sobering way. Her ears blazed, her tongue grew dry and thick, and her mind was a blank. She drew in a deep breath.
Say something!

“Self-deprecating? Ha-ha.” She laughed nervously. “Now you’ll think I’m fishing for compliments…”

Her voice trailed off as she winced at her inane comment. She couldn’t wrench her gaze from his. She felt as if she were drowning in the hazy depths of his eyes. Mellow afternoon sunshine slanted across his face, picking up the fine creases in the corners of his eyes, gilding the curve of his mouth, the angles of his nose. He leaned closer, and she caught a heady whiff of his body. He was so close she could see the irises of his eyes widening to black pools. A tiny pulse ticked in his left temple. He traced a finger across her cheek, and her pulse leaped too.

“You don’t need to fish for compliments,” he murmured.

A trail of pleasure ignited across her cheek where he touched her. His fingers drifted to the tendrils of hair around her forehead.

“Such shiny hair.” He twined her hair through his fingers, gently slipping it around his digits. “Like a chestnut.”

The air between them felt sweet and rich with the fragrance of ripening fruit and rocketing pheromones—not just hers but his, as well. She wasn’t just imagining this. Her pulse hammering, she found herself swaying closer, irresistibly drawn toward him. All she could think about was Adam—his drugging voice, his twirling fingers, his warm mouth. Reality faded away. She was in a dream, a romantic, rose-scented dream where Adam told her she was beautiful. The dream lifted her up and carried her away, unfolding just like her teenage fantasies, and the vision could climax in only one way—in one exquisite kiss.

The edges of reality frayed away as everything began to spin out of control. Adam closed his hand around her nape. His eyes were heavy and dark. The warmth of his palm made her senses reel. She lifted her head toward him, parting her lips, her mouth and tongue already tingling with anticipated pleasure.

A high-pitched screech split the afternoon stillness. They jerked apart as if hit by lightning. Adam yanked his hands away from her, fingers snagging in her hair, dismay flashing across his face. Harriet’s fantasy disappeared in a puff of smoke as cold reality doused her. She rubbed her eyes. Had she come within an inch of flinging herself at Adam? Her breath caught at the back of her throat at the horror of what she’d done.

Another cry shuddered from the house.

“Jarrod…” She scrambled to her feet and stumbled back into the house.

The little boy stood in the middle of the family room, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks. He bolted toward her and latched on to her legs. Soothing him with nonsensical babble, she picked him up and gave him a cup of water. He took a few gulps, whined and pointed toward a jar of pink iced biscuits.

“Bikkie!”

“Cindy usually lets him have a handful of those in the afternoon.” Adam stood in the doorway.

He didn’t seem keen to reenter the kitchen. Perhaps he feared she might launch herself at him a second time. Cold dismay fought with her blushes, leaving her cheeks feeling blotchy. Jarrod wrapped his arms around her neck and grizzled into her hair.

“They look too sugary. I think I’ll make him a cheese sandwich instead,” she said, struggling to sound normal.

Jarrod refused to let go of her. When she tried to lower him to the floor, he clung to her even tighter, moaning as if she’d asked him to walk on hot coals.

“Jarrod,” Adam called. “Do you want to come outside and help me build something?”

The moaning stopped. The boy jumped off Harriet and ran toward Adam with a shriek of joy. Adam scooped him up and carried him outside.

Harriet breathed a sigh of relief, but as she busied herself making a cheese sandwich, her mind began to churn. What had she done out there on the deck a minute ago? Adam had paid her a mild compliment, and it had all gone straight to her head like cheap wine. She’d swayed against him, leaned in and puckered up her lips. Ugh! How humiliating! But hang on, didn’t he put his hand on her neck? Probably just to haul her off him. Double ugh! What would have happened if Jarrod hadn’t woken up? Would she have grabbed Adam and pashed him against his will? Her stomach rolled.

She found a plastic plate for the cheese sandwich, cut an apple into quarters and filled a beaker with milk. She had a strong inclination to loiter in the kitchen, but she couldn’t let Jarrod go hungry. She ferried the food outside to find Adam and Jarrod playing on the deck with a stack of wood off-cuts. Jarrod was totally immersed in constructing a bridge, while Adam sat cross-legged next to him, giving him advice and encouragement.

Harriet stopped, caught by the unexpected scene. Adam looked so at ease playing with the three-year-old. He glanced up at her, no disgust or wariness apparent in his face, and she sat down gingerly beside them, laying the plate of food and the milk next to Jarrod.

“Looks like Jarrod might be an engineer one day.”

He sounded so normal, she thought. As if nothing had happened between them just a few minutes ago. As if she hadn’t experienced a temporary brain explosion. Adam wanted to ignore what had happened just as much as she did, that much was obvious.

“Thanks for helping me with him,” she said. “I hope we’re not keeping you from your work.”

He glanced at her over Jarrod’s head. “That’s okay. I was just finishing up for the day.”

An uncomfortable silence settled on them. Jarrod demanded Adam help him with his bridge, and Adam obliged. Thank goodness for three-year-olds, Harriet thought. Without Jarrod’s distractions she would have gone crazy under the tension.

Cindy arrived home a few minutes later and Jarrod launched himself on to her like a spider monkey, refusing to let go. Dropping her clutch of shopping bags, Cindy collapsed onto the nearest couch, and gave in to her son’s noisy greeting.

“Oh, Adam, you can give Harriet a lift home, can’t you?” Cindy yelled as she unwrapped a chocolate bar for Jarrod. “I think I’ve had too much to drink.”

Adam was still out on the deck, lacing up his work boots. He paused to shoot Harriet an enigmatic look. “Sure,” he said. “No problem.”

Wonderful, Harriet thought. Now she’d be alone with Adam again. She climbed into Adam’s truck and perched her cardboard box of honey and lemon myrtle on her lap. The drive home would only take fifteen minutes, she told herself. Surely she could survive that? As soon as they hit the road Adam wound down his window and turned on the radio to a music station. The sound of a soft jazz song filled the car.

Fine. He didn’t want to talk. That was fine with her. Because she couldn’t think of a single thing to say, not when she was still kicking herself.

“You’re good with Jarrod,” he said out of the blue.

She turned toward him in surprise. “I am?”

“Jarrod likes you because you set boundaries. He needs boundaries.”

“I think he needs his mother,” she retorted. “But Cindy seems to find motherhood a bit of a challenge.”

“I don’t think it’s that. I think Cindy has too much time and not enough to do. She needs something to occupy her.” He angled a quick glance at her. “You could ask her to help you with the catering.”

Harriet burst out laughing. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh like that, but the idea of Cindy doing something in the kitchen is…mind-boggling. She’s never shown the slightest interest in cooking or anything to do with The Tuckerbox.”

“It was just a thought.” Adam shrugged. “She seemed impressed when she learned you were taking over from your father. Badgered me with all sorts of questions about it.”

Harriet shook her head in a daze. Cindy impressed with her? That couldn’t be right. Cindy had never been impressed by anything she did.

“That doesn’t sound like my sister at all.”

Adam slowed down the car at an intersection and checked for crossing traffic. “People change, you know,” he said as they pulled off again. “You, of all people, should know that.”

The rebuke in his voice made her squirm. “Yeah, well, I don’t think Cindy’s changed that much.”

“Okay, fine. Let’s drop it.”

His brow remained furrowed. His mouth was taut. The silence prickled.

She tightened her grip on the box on her lap. “Look, about what happened on the deck… I’m sorry. I didn’t know what I was doing and…and it won’t happen again. I promise.”

“What?” He flashed her an incredulous look. The wind whipped through the windows for several seconds before he spoke. “You’re sorry, are you?”

“Of course I’m sorry—”

“Hell, don’t apologise. Nothing actually happened.”

His abrupt tone stopped her cold. Nothing. So, as far as he was concerned, nothing had happened on the deck. Maybe this happened to him all the time. Maybe he had to fight off infatuated women every week. Yes, that was it. She was just as bad as Cindy mincing around in her ripped jeans and slutty heels.

“Yup. Okay. Fine.” Her stomach clenched and her fingers cramped up.

She thought that she and Adam had entered a new phase, that they’d set aside their differences and found a common goal, but now all the old uneasiness welled up in her, and she couldn’t wait for the ride to end.

Harriet’s car choked and jerked like an asthmatic. “Come on,” she urged.

The engine gave one final splutter before giving up the struggle. She just had time to steer the slowly rolling car onto the verge before it came to a dismal halt. She glanced at the countryside around her and bumped her head against the steering wheel. Oh, no. This could not be happening to her. She could not be stuck right outside Blackstone Hall.

It got worse. Her mobile phone was completely out of juice. She groaned louder and shut her eyes. Perhaps a car would come along this road, and she’d be able to flag it down. She waited for ten minutes, but the road remained empty. Saturday noon was not peak-time around here apparently. She tried to start the engine, but the hatchback was a stubborn beast and refused to respond. She knew better than to open the bonnet; her knowledge of cars could be engraved on a pinhead.

A few fuming minutes later, she got out of the car and slammed the door shut. She grimaced as she contemplated the solid iron gates of Blackstone Hall just a few metres ahead of her. Why did her car have to break down here of all places? Adam would think she was stalking him.

She hadn’t seen him for three days. She’d thrown herself into the preparations for the ball, and in her spare time she’d taken care of her dad and her mother. She’d kept herself so busy. And yet…she couldn’t stop thinking about the near-kiss on the deck. Over and over she replayed the incident in her mind. Each time she did so, she wondered—had all the desire really been on her side alone? Hadn’t she caught a glimpse of passion in his eyes? Hadn’t Adam stroked her cheek and curled his fingers through her hair? Maybe he’d wanted the kiss just as badly as she had?

She thunked the heel of her hand against her forehead.
Stop thinking these futile thoughts. Stop seeing things that aren’t there.

She gripped her shoulder bag tightly, and began the long walk up the driveway. Her shoes crunched on the gravel as she neared the house. One set of French doors was wide open, and the buzz of an electric saw whined through the still air. She hopped up onto the veranda and peeked through the open doors.

Adam stood bent over a couple of work trestles supporting a piece of timber. He held an electric saw in one hand, the muscles in his arm bulging as he drove the sharp blade through the wood. She must have made some movement, because as soon as he’d cut the timber, he glanced up at her. The safety glasses wrapped around his eyes hid his expression as he straightened up.

“Harriet.” He flicked off the saw and pulled off the safety glasses. Wood shavings dusted the hairs on his forearms. His damp T-shirt clung to his powerful shoulders. Her heart tumbled over. It wasn’t fair that she found him so gorgeous, that one glimpse of him turned her into a wreck.

She ran her tongue over her dry lips. “My car broke down and my mobile phone is dead. I was wondering if I could use your phone?”

God, how lame she sounded! He would think this was all a weak excuse to barge in on him.

“Sure.” He bent his head and shook it, and a cloud of sawdust sifted from his hair and onto the floor. “I’ll just be a minute here.”

She backed away a couple of steps. “I hope I’m not interrupting you too much.”

“You’re not interrupting me.” He wiped his forehead across the sleeve of his T-shirt. “In fact, you came just in time. I could use your help with something upstairs, if you don’t mind.” He waited for her nod before lifting two freshly sawn pieces of wood and making for the staircase.

He led the way up the stairs and down a panelled corridor. There were numerous rooms, most of them empty, some with a few sticks of furniture. They came to a stop in a large bedroom at the end of the hall. Harriet looked around at the faded wallpaper and scuffed floorboards.

“I’m replacing some of the rotted timber in this window.” He set down his pieces of wood beside a window with half its bits missing. “You can help me get the measurements right.”

“Wouldn’t it save you some time if you cut your wood up here?” she asked as she held the length of wood up against the window as he instructed.

“The electrical wiring is a bit iffy up here.”

He shifted toward her, and her senses went into overdrive. He stood mere inches behind her, the heat of his body warming her back. Her hands trembled, and she almost dropped the piece of wood.

“Up a bit,” he instructed.

She obeyed, her stomach tangling into knots as she held her breath.

“Why were you driving past my house?” he asked, his tone conversational.

Was she imagining the hidden edge to his enquiry? “Uh, I had to see Dave and Tina, my dad’s kitchen assistants. I wanted to go over the schedule for the ball with them.”

“How did it go with them?”

Not as well as she’d hoped. Dave had been fine, but Tina had been suspicious and difficult right from the start. She had questioned everything on Harriet’s schedule and raised a lot of objections. She didn’t seem to think Harriet had any business doing the catering.

“I think I managed to allay their concerns.”

Adam stepped back, a speculative gleam in his eye. “You’re saying Tina wasn’t a pain in the butt?”

She sighed. So much for trying to be diplomatic. “How did you know?”

“Because I know Tina. I coach her son’s soccer team. She doesn’t suffer fools gladly, and she’s very free with her advice.”

“Isn’t she just! She advised me I was doing everything wrong.”

He picked up the second piece of wood and lined it up against the window. “I’m sure you can handle her.”

“If I had the choice, I wouldn’t have her working for me at all.”

He frowned. “Here in Wilmot you work with what you’ve got. You learn to cope with all types. You’re not in Sydney anymore.”

“So I’ve noticed.”

He lowered the piece of wood and gave her a hard stare. “You can’t wait to get back to Sydney, can you?”

She couldn’t mistake the strong whiff of criticism in his tone. “Can you blame me?” She lifted her shoulders. “I have my own apartment and my own business there. I make my own decisions, and nobody gossips about me. City life suits me.”

“Doesn’t suit me. I tried it once, back in uni.” He zipped up the measuring tape and shoved it into his work belt. “It’s okay when you’re young and carefree, but not when you want to put down roots.”

“So you’re here for good, then?”

He nodded. “This is where I belong.”

He stood tall, hands on hips, feet apart and planted on the wooden floorboards. He looked like a tree rooted to the spot, a stubborn pride etched across his face. No one would move him, his stance implied. He was here to stay.

“And this is where I’ll never belong.” She heard herself utter the words before she could stop herself.

Adam tensed. “Nonsense. Of course you belong here. You grew up here. Your whole family lives in Wilmot.”

“Not me. I’ll never live here again.” She turned to the window and stared out blindly.