When Only Diamonds Will Do (2 page)

‘Of course,’ Kim said without hesitation.

‘Of course?’ he queried, glancing down at her with some irony.

She paused and looked up. She wasn’t short, five feet six, plus her wedges tonight, which meant he had to be well over six feet, and a little frisson ran through her because he was not only tall but beautifully proportioned …

But why that look of irony? she wondered.

‘Have I said something wrong?’

He took her hand and swung it. ‘No, I suppose not.’

‘Now come on, tell me,’ she insisted.

He stopped walking and turned her to face him but it was a long moment before he replied. In fact as his gaze roamed up and down her figure then lingered ruefully on her legs, Kim experienced another frisson but this one seemed to sizzle between them.

Then he shrugged and said, ‘It’s just that I get the feeling you do everything well—ride, swim, surf, play
tennis, play the piano, draw or paint, speak fluent—something or other and—’

‘Stop!’ She held up her free hand. ‘You’re having a go at me, aren’t you? You still think I’m rich and idle, despite the fact that I work.’

He rubbed his jaw reflectively. ‘Not idle, no, but for the rest of it, you have the sort of assurance that leads one to suspect you of attending a good finishing school. Do you do any of those things?’

‘I …’ Kim closed her mouth and shrugged resignedly. ‘I do swim and surf. I ride. I don’t play the piano but I do play the harp, I do play tennis, I do speak fluent Spanish—but I do not draw or paint!’ she finished triumphantly. ‘Mind you, I have a good eye for art,’ she confessed. ‘But, tell me this, what’s it all got to do with surfing?’

‘Should we go down to Margaret River for a surf tomorrow?’ He paused. ‘The weather forecast is good and the swell is up.’

Kim’s lips parted and her eyes lit up. ‘I can think of nothing nicer, Mr—what
is
your name?’

His eyes narrowed for no reason she could detect. ‘Richardson,’ he said and waited a moment. ‘Reith Richardson.’

‘Well, Mr Richardson, I’d love to! I haven’t surfed for a while.’

‘And you can just take off from your teaching job when and wherever?’ he queried.

‘Oh, no, but I have time off at the moment. I did some overtime in the boarding house.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘Where shall we meet?’

‘Would you mind driving down to Busselton?’

‘No-o,’ Kim said slowly.

He swung her hand. ‘I have a very early appointment down there—it would save me driving back. We can go on in one car.’

‘Sure,’ she said easily.

He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles.

Kim swallowed as a tremor of pure physical attraction towards this tall, dark, rugged stranger ran through her. But he didn’t feel like a stranger any more, although she didn’t know much more about him than she’d known earlier in the day.

Well, she knew he preferred steak to lobster, beer to champagne, that his hands were clean and scrubbed but scarred and callused as if he’d done plenty of physical work at some time or another. Yet he sounded educated and well-read.

He released her hand as they reached her car. ‘Try not to lure any more men to their doom against large, immovable objects, Miss Theron,’ he advised as she unlocked the driver’s door.

She laughed, ‘I won’t!’

‘Oh, and this.’ He took her purse from her and tucked her hundred-dollar note into it.

‘But—’

‘I’d like to pay for the flowers, that’s all. Goodnight.’

‘You know—’ Kim stared up at him ‘—I’ve got the feeling you’re quite addicted to getting your own way.’

‘I have been accused of that, yes,’ he agreed gravely. ‘It’s nonsense, of course.’ He paused. ‘On the other hand, we could be two of a kind.’

‘Do you think so?’ Kim asked wryly. ‘That could make for some uncomfortable times between us, assuming we last any kind of distance. Goodnight.’

His lips twitched. ‘It could. Yes, it could. Goodnight.’

Kim drove home in a thoughtful mood.

The moon was silvering the familiar landscape, so it wasn’t familiar any more but an exotic surround with secretive dark patches.

Of course, she knew it off by heart but, thinking of how secretive and unknown in the moonlight it looked now, her thoughts took off down another path. Was she entering an unknown period of her life?

How could she be as affected as she was by a man she’d only just met? There was no doubt he sent shivers down her spine—shivers of pleasure. One light kiss on her knuckles had not only raised goose bumps for her but it had caused her to warm to him as if they could be friends who cared for each other.

Or was that being extremely fanciful? she asked herself as she swung into the driveway of the estate called Saldanha, the place she had always called home.

Set against the background of the Darling Range foothills, Saldanha was special. The Harvey and Margaret River districts south of Perth in Western Australia were beautiful and diverse, with their white beaches, jarrah forests, sleek cattle and the sheer fertility that produced glorious gardens. And adjacent to Saldanha was the Balthazar Winery, also owned by her parents—the other, and probably most famous, export of the area that grew premium grapes was wine.

Both Saldanha and Balthazar—a Balthazar was a
twelve-litre wine bottle—were the names brought by the Theron family, of Huguenot descent, from South Africa to the similar conditions and climate around Perth. The Theron family had also brought their viticulture skills and the Balthazar Winery had flourished. At the same time Saldanha, named after a sheltered bay north of Cape Town, had flourished and the Cape Dutch–style architecture of the house, white gables and a thatched roof, had become distinctive in the district.

So had the classic dry white that Balthazar was famous for as well as its Cellar Door, run on the estate and visited by wine-lovers from all over the world.

It was none of this Kim Theron was thinking of as she parked her car, greeted her dog, a devoted blue heeler that went by the name of Sunny Bob, and let herself into the darkened house.

Her parents were out and her brother no longer lived at home, although he kept his horses there, and the housekeeper had taken the opportunity to visit family.

But, as she switched on some lamps and kicked off her shoes, Kim’s thoughts were still firmly centred on Reith Richardson.

Was it unusual to suggest they go surfing? she wondered. Perhaps, but a great idea nonetheless.

She paused at the foot of the stairs as she tried to analyse her emotions. She was intrigued, without a doubt. But, of course, as the saying went: look before you leap …

She had no idea, as she stood with her hand on the banister, how that phrase was going to come back to haunt her.

Margaret River was beautiful.

The peaceful river gave its name to a district that stretched between two capes—Cape Naturaliste and Cape Leeuwin—and ran inland as well. The town of Margaret River was not the only one in the area; there were quite a few, from Busselton to Yallingup and Cowaramup and more. There were some magnificent kauri forests as well as some fascinating limestone caves. The whole district was renowned not only for its wine but also its cuisine.

It was straight to the beach that Reith Richardson steered his four-wheel vehicle, though, after he’d collected Kim from their appointed meeting place in Busselton, along with her surfboard—and her dog.

‘Hope you don’t mind,’ Kim said as she introduced them. ‘Reith, this is Sunny Bob, and this, Sunny Bob,’ she said to the blue heeler sitting politely at her feet, ‘is Reith. He’s a friend.’

‘How do you do,’ Reith said gravely but with his lips twitching as he patted the dog. ‘Is he for protection—or what?’

‘Oh, no!’ Kim denied. ‘Well, if the need ever arose—’ She gestured and shrugged. ‘But no, he loves the sea and he loves going out with me.’

Reith studied her for a moment. She wore colourful knee-length board shorts and a shocking pink bikini top under a string vest. Her hair was tied back and her beautiful designer sunglasses alone would have cost a small fortune.

‘You look the part,’ he commented as he transferred
her board across, then looked at what was left in her boot. ‘What’s all this?’

‘I thought as much,’ Kim replied with a mischievous grin. ‘You’re a typical iron-man surfer with no thought of creature comforts. You can put it all in your car,’ she directed.

‘But—’

‘There’s only a sun umbrella, a couple of folding chairs and a cooler with food and beverages. What’s wrong with that?’ she asked, with her hands planted on her hips.

He grimaced, then grinned. ‘Nothing, I guess. I was going to drive us somewhere for lunch.’

‘Perish the thought,’ she said and looked around. ‘On a perfect day like this, who wants to leave the beach?’

Several hours later, Reith, with a beer in one hand and a chicken drumstick in the other, said, ‘You’re a genius. How did you know cold roast chicken, beer—or, in your case, wine—go down perfectly after a surf?’

Kim giggled. ‘Anyone knows that.’ She lay back in her folding chair and sipped her wine. Sunny Bob lay contentedly beside her, having had an energetic few hours chasing waves whilst Kim and Reith had had a magnificent surf. He had his own bowl of cool fresh water.

She’d wrapped a pink sarong around her before she’d set out lunch. The sun was just starting to slide down from its zenith and there were a few wispy clouds trailing across the sky. The tide was out now so the roar of the surf was muted but you could still taste the salt in
the air and feel the prickle of it on your skin. And it was hot and still, apart from some cicadas in the bush behind the beach.

‘Why did you suggest this?’ Kim’s question seemed to pop out of nowhere.

‘Why not?’

She hesitated. ‘It just seems unusual for a businessman—look, I’m not complaining,’ she said with a grin, ‘but think barristers, stockbrokers, CEOs, medical men and you tend to spend a lot of time going out to dinner or cocktail parties or nightclubs or the theatre. Occasionally you may get a day out on a yacht or a day at the races but they’re often too busy making money even to do that.’

‘I spend a lot of time working behind a desk these days. Whereas I used to—’ He paused.

‘Go on. Used to—?’ she prompted.

‘Work on cattle stations, then I was a miner.’

‘I wondered about that.’

He looked at her. ‘Is it so obvious?’

‘No,’ she said slowly. ‘It was your hands.’

He looked at his hands and grimaced. ‘Anyway, I love the sea—most people who don’t get to see it until their teens do—and it’s good exercise.’

‘So you grew up inland?’

‘Yep.’ He stared out over the ocean and for a moment there was an intensity to his dark gaze that made her frown and believe that he did love it. ‘And beyond the black stump, speaking metaphorically,’ he added.

Kim smiled. ‘Are you married?’

He stirred. ‘What makes you think that?’

‘All the best ones are, according to Penny.’ She pushed herself up against the back of her chair, bent her knees and smoothed her sarong over them. ‘What kind of answer is that—are you or aren’t you?’

‘I’m not. I once was but she passed away.’

Kim sat up, looking appalled. ‘You mean she died? What from?’

He nodded. ‘A rare complication in childbirth.’

‘Is…Did the baby survive?’

‘Yes. His name’s Darcy and he’s ten now.’

Kim lay back. ‘I’m sorry—very sorry.’

‘Thanks,’ he said briefly, then smiled slightly. ‘What will Penny make of that?’

Kim shrugged. ‘Put you in a special category, I guess.’

‘How did I come up, anyway?’

Kim looked a touch embarrassed. ‘I went to see her this morning before I drove down to Busselton. Naturally, I told her why I was dressed for the beach,’ she said.

‘Naturally.’

‘Oh, look—’ Kim closed her eyes ‘—ever since Penny got married she’s been trying to sell me the state of matrimony as if it’s the only state of bliss on the planet. Mind you, that doesn’t stop her from warning me of the folly of falling for married men.’

‘I think I get the drift,’ he replied seriously.

Kim tossed him an annoyed little glance. ‘Somehow you’ve made me feel about twelve,’ she said crossly. Then her lips twitched. ‘Penny and I have known each other since we were six so we’re pretty close. And I
suppose pretty girlish at times. But it’s not girlish to want to know…Look, it doesn’t matter.’ She got up suddenly, stripped off her sarong and ran out from beneath the shade of the umbrella and across the hot sand to where the tide was tracing silvery crescents of foam on the damp sand.

And, barking joyfully, Sunny Bob streaked along beside her. The last to join her as she splashed in the shallows was Reith Richardson.

‘You know,’ he said, ‘I would actually like to meet your Penny.’

‘Why?’ Kim stood still and stared at him.

‘If it hadn’t been for her I wouldn’t have met you. Besides, maybe I could put her mind at rest.’

She eyed him but if he was laughing at her, he was hiding it well. There was no hiding, however, the streamlined strength of his body. He was lightly tanned and beautifully proportioned and she had to turn away suddenly as her breath caught in her throat at the thought of being in his arms.

She felt his hand on her and she looked over her shoulder and up at him.

It was a long, sober look they exchanged but it sent tremors of excitement and danger coursing through Kim’s body because, in no uncertain terms, it told her that this man wanted her. She could see it in the way his gaze lingered on her breasts, her slim bare waist, her legs. Then he looked back into her eyes.

She licked her lips and curled her hands into fists because she desperately wanted to touch and be touched intimately, but Sunny Bob chose that moment to break
the ‘moment’. He raced up and threaded his way between them, and stayed there.

‘Saved by the bell,’ Reith murmured as he removed his hand.

Her eyes widened. ‘Sunny Bob?’

‘I get the feeling I’m on notice. Behave or else.’

Kim had to smile. ‘Well—obviously,’ she hastened to assure him, ‘I wouldn’t allow him to attack you.’