The Girl he Never Noticed (11 page)

She licked her lips.

‘And they
have
been two crazy months, haven’t they? Like a slow form of torture.’

She released a long, slow breath. ‘Yes,’ she said at last. ‘Oh, yes.’

His hands relaxed at last on her waist. He took them away and drew her into his arms. ‘Maybe we need a couple of days on our own—to get used to this idea. Would you come away with me for a while?’

‘What about the kids?’

‘I only meant a few days, and Archie is used to that. Perhaps your mother would come up to be with Scout?’

She took a breath. ‘Well…’

‘Well?’ he repeated after a long moment.

It occurred to Liz that one of her hurdles in this matter was getting to the core of Cam Hillier. Discovering
whether she could trust him or not. Finding out what was really behind this amazing offer of marriage.

‘I—if I did it,’ she said hesitantly, ‘I couldn’t make any promises. But you’ve been very good to me,’ she heard herself say, ‘so—’

‘Liz.’ His voice was suddenly rough. ‘Do it or don’t do it—but not out of gratitude.’

She sat up abruptly. ‘I
am
grateful!’

‘Then the offer’s withdrawn.’

She sucked in a large amount of air. ‘You’re not only incorrigible, you’re impossible, Cam Hillier,’ she told him roundly.

‘No, I’m not. Be honest, Liz. We want each other, and gratitude’s got nothing to do with it.’

She opened and closed her mouth several times as her mind whirled like a Catherine wheel, seeking excuses, twirling round and round in search of escape avenues. But of course he was right. There were none.

‘True,’ she breathed at last. ‘You’re right.’

His clasp on her hand tightened almost unbearably. ‘Then the offer’s open again.’

‘Thanks. I’ll—I’ll come.’

He released her hand and put his arm round her shoulders.

Liz closed her eyes and surrendered herself to the warmth that passed between them. At the same time she was conscious that she’d put her foot on an unknown path—but she just didn’t seem to have the strength of mind to resist Cam Hillier.

She took refuge in the mundane, because the enormity of it all was threatening to overwhelm her.

‘I’m a bit worried about Mrs Preston. She got herself into quite a state tonight.’

‘I’ll get her some help before we go. Don’t worry. You’re worse than Archie.’ He slipped his fingers beneath her chin and looked down into her eyes. ‘In fact,’ he murmured, ‘don’t worry about a thing. I’ll take care of it all.’ And he started to kiss her.

H
E TOOK HER
to the Great Barrier Reef three days later. He’d told her that much, but said the rest would be a surprise.

They flew to Hamilton Island, just off Queensland’s Whitsunday coast, on a commercial flight. She was quiet at first—until he put his hand over hers.

‘They’ll be fine—the kids.’

She looked quickly at him. ‘How did you know I was thinking about them?’

‘It was a safe bet,’ he said wryly. ‘Unless you’re regretting coming away with me?’

‘No…’

He narrowed his eyes at her slight hesitation, but didn’t take issue with it.

She marvelled as the jet floated over the sparkling waters, the reefs, the islands of the Whitsunday Passage and right over the marina, with its masts and colourful surrounds, to land. Then she discovered they were not staying on Hamilton, although they walked around the busy harbour with its shops and art galleries, its cafés. Their luggage—not that there was a lot—seemed to have been mysteriously taken care of.

Her discovery that they weren’t staying on Hamilton came in the form of a question.

‘Have you got a hat?’ he asked, as they stopped in front of a shop with a divine selection of hats. ‘You need a hat out on the water.’

‘Out on the… No, I don’t have one I can squash into a suitcase. Out on the water?’ she repeated.

‘You’ll see. Let’s choose.’ So they spent half an hour with Liz trying on sunhats—half an hour during which the two young, pretty shop assistants got all blushing and giggly beneath the charm and presence of Cameron Hillier.

But it was light-hearted and fun, and Liz found herself feeling light-hearted too. It was as if, she thought, all the pressure from all the difficult decisions was flowing out of her system under the influence of the holiday spirit of the island.

She chose a straw hat with a wide brim, and wore it out of the shop. They stopped at a café and had iced coffees, and shared a sinfully delicious pastry. Then, swinging her hand in his, he led down to the marina to a catamaran tied up to a jetty.

Its name was
Leilani,
and she was the last word in luxury: a blend of glossy woodwork, thick carpets, beautiful fabrics, bright brass work and sparkling white paint. The main saloon was huge, with a shipshape built-in galley. The staterooms—there were three—were wood-panelled and had sumptuous bed clothing.

There were two decks—one that led off the saloon, and an upper deck behind the fly-bridge controls.

Liz was wide-eyed even before she got to see
Leilani’s
interior. A young man in whites named Rob welcomed them aboard with a salute, and showed her to her stateroom. He returned upstairs and she heard him talking to Cam, but not what was said. When she got back on the upper deck the conference was over, and to her surprise the young man whom she’d assumed was the skipper hopped off onto the jetty as Cam started the engines and untied the lines.

‘He isn’t coming?’ she queried.

Cam looked over his shoulder as the cat started to reverse out of the berth. ‘Nope.’

She blinked. ‘Do you know how to handle a boat this size?’

‘Liz, I virtually grew up on boats.’ He cast her a laughing look. ‘Of course I do.’

She chewed her lip.

This time he laughed at her openly. ‘You’re getting more and more like Archie,’ he teased, as he turned
Leilani
neatly on her own length and headed her for the harbour mouth. ‘I’ll show you how to do it—but maybe not today.’

‘Do you own her—is she yours or have you borrowed her?’

‘I own her.’

‘I’m surprised she hasn’t got a Shakespearean name!’

He said wryly, ‘She was already named when I got her. It’s supposed to be unlucky to change a boat’s name. But funnily enough Leilani was a famous racehorse. OK. I’ll need to concentrate for a few minutes,’ he added as they cleared the harbour entrance.

‘Where are we going?’

‘Whitehaven,’ he said. ‘We should be there in time to see the sun set. There’s nothing like it.’

He was right.

By the time the sun started to drop below the horizon they’d anchored off Whitehaven Beach, Liz had unpacked, and she was starting to feel more at home.

She’d been helped in this by the fact that once Cam was satisfied the anchor was set, and he’d turned off the motors and various other systems, he’d followed her down to the lower deck and taken her into his arms.

‘A difficult few days,’ he said wryly.

She could only nod in agreement. They’d decided to maintain a businesslike stance at Yewarra in front of staff and children alike—even Liz’s mother, when she arrived. ‘It’s nothing to do with anyone but us,’ he’d said. ‘And we’ll tell them it’s a business trip to do with real estate.’

‘But they’ll probably be dying of curiosity,’ she’d responded. ‘Not the children, but…’

‘Would you rather I kissed you every time I felt like it?’ he’d countered.

Liz had blushed brightly and shaken her head.

‘Thought not,’ he’d said, with a glint of sheer devilry.

In the event he’d spent quite a bit of those three days in Sydney tidying up loose ends before going away. And Liz had spent the time he was away feeling like pinching herself—because, hard as it was to remain unaffected in his presence, it was harder to feel she’d made a rational decision when he wasn’t around.

The one argument she’d bolstered herself with was that she owed it to Cam Hillier to at least try to understand him. It might be close to gratitude, but she couldn’t help it; she certainly wouldn’t be telling him that, though.

Now, anchored off Whitehaven Beach on his beautiful boat, he put his hand on her waist from behind and swung her round. ‘I’m sorely in need of this,’ he said huskily.

Liz smiled up at him and relaxed against him. ‘You and me both.’

He released her waist and gathered her into his arms, making her feel slim and willowy, and said against the corner of her mouth, ‘No desire to fight me or call me a menace?’

Liz suffered a jolt of laughter, but said ruefully, ‘I don’t know where it all went.’

‘All the hostility?’ He nuzzled the top of her head and moved his hands on her hips.

‘Mmm… Could be something to do with—I mean it’s very hard to say no to a guy with a boat like this!’

He laughed down at her and she caught her breath, because in all his dark glory he was devastatingly attractive and he made her heart beat faster and her pulses race.

‘Tell you what.’ He kissed her lightly. ‘Why don’t you change into something more comfortable whilst I whip up the sundowners that are traditional in this part of the world?’

She drew away and looked down at her clothes. She
was still wearing the jeans and top she’d travelled in. ‘I guess I could. It
is
warm. How about you?’

‘I’m going to sling on some shorts—but don’t be long. The sun goes fast when it makes up its mind to retire.’

‘Just going!’ She clasped his fingers, then went inside and down to her stateroom.

‘A maxi-dress! You
must
have a maxi-dress,’ had been her mother’s emphatic response upon learning her daughter was going to Hamilton Island in the Whitsundays, even if it was on business. ‘They’re all the rage. I’ll bring you one!’

And despite the short notice she’d done just that—a lovely long floaty creation in white, with a wide band of tangerine swirls round the hem. It was strapless, with a built-in bra, and had a matching tangerine and white scarf to drape elegantly around her neck.

Liz slipped it on and discovered the lovely dress had a strange effect on her. It made her feel as light as a feather. It made her feel flirty and young and desirable.

In fact she stretched out her arms and did a dancing circle in front of the mirror. Then, mindful of the sun’s downward path, she brushed her hair, shook her head to tousle it, put on some lipgloss and, barefoot—because that seemed to fit the scene—moved lightly up to the saloon and out on to the back deck.

Cam was already there, changed into navy shorts and a white T-shirt. He was sitting with his long legs propped up on the side of the boat. On the table beside him stood two creamy white cocktails, complete with paper parasols.
There was also a pewter tray of smoked salmon canapés, topped with cream cheese and capers.

‘You’re a marvel, Mr Hillier!’ She laughed at him with her hands on her hips. ‘I had no idea you were so domesticated.’

He turned to look at her, and it was his turn to catch his breath—although she didn’t know it.

Nor could she know that it crossed his mind that she’d never looked so lovely—slender, sparkling with vitality, and absolutely gorgeous…

He stood up. ‘I cannot tell a lie. I did make the cocktails, but Rob organised the canapés along with a catering package. You—’ he held out his hand to her ‘—are stunning.’

She laughed up at him as he drew her towards him. ‘I also cannot tell a lie. I
feel
stunning. I mean, not that I look stunning, but I feel—’

‘I know what you mean.’ He bent his head and kissed her. ‘OK.’ He released her. ‘Sit down. Cheers!’ He handed her the cocktail. ‘To the sunset.’

‘To the sunset!’ she echoed, and stared entranced at the white beach so well named and the colours in the sky as the sun sank below the tree-lined horizon.

That wasn’t all there was to the sunset, though. The sky got even more colourful after the sun had disappeared, with streaks of gold cloud against a violet background that was reflected in the water, and a liquid orange horizon.

There were several other boats at anchor, and as the sunset finally withdrew its amazing colours from the
sky they lit their anchor lights. Cam did the same, and then went to pour them another Mai Tai cocktail.

Liz stayed out on the deck, enjoying the warm, tropical air and the peace and serenity. It was a calm night, with just the soft lap of water against the hull.

‘You could get addicted to this lifestyle,’ she said with a grin when he brought their drinks out, then she sat up, looking electrified, as soft but lively music piped out onto the deck. ‘How did you know?’

‘Know what?’

She cocked her head to listen. ‘That I was a frustrated disco dancer as a kid? I haven’t danced for years. Except with Scout. She loves dancing too.’ She smiled and sat back. ‘I feel young all of a sudden.’

‘You
are
young.’ He pulled up his chair so that they were sitting knee to knee, and leant forward to fiddle with the end of her scarf. ‘Actually, you make
me
feel young.’

Liz looked surprised. ‘You’re not old. How old are you?’

He grimaced. ‘Thirty-three. Today.’

Liz sat forward in surprise. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

He lifted his shoulders. ‘Birthdays come and go. They don’t mean much when you start to get on. What would you have done, anyway?’

She thought for a moment. ‘You seem to have everything that opens and shuts—so a present might have been difficult. But at least a card.’

‘To put on my mantelpiece?’ He looked amused.

‘No,’ she agreed ruefully. ‘OK, here’s my last offer.’
She leant right forward and kissed him lightly. ‘Happy Birthday, Mr Hillier!’

‘Miss Montrose—thank you. But I hope that was only an appetiser,’ he replied wryly.

Liz trembled as she saw a nerve beat in his jaw—she’d seen it before, and she knew that under the light-hearted fun there lurked a rising tide of desire. It caused her nerves to tighten a fraction—not that she was feeling like a block of wood herself, she thought dryly, but was she ready for the inevitable?

He didn’t press the matter. Whether he sensed that slight nervous reaction or not, she didn’t know, but he merely kissed her back lightly and handed her a cocktail.”

‘Finish that. Then we have a veritable feast to get through.

A feast it was: a seafood platter heaped with prawns, crab, calamari and two lobster tails. There was also a side salad, and there was white wine to go with it. It was the kind of meal to eat slowly, often using fingers and not being too self-conscious about the smears left on your glass, despite the fingerbowl and linen napkins.

It was the perfect feast to eat on the back deck of a boat surrounded by midnight-blue sea and sky—although she could just make out the amazing sands of Whitehaven Beach.

It was a meal that lent itself to talking when the mood took them, about nothing very much, and to not feeling awkward when a silence grew. Because—and Liz grew
more aware of it—there seemed to be a mental unity between them.

‘That was lovely,’ she said as he gathered up their plates and consigned their food scraps overboard. She got up and helped him carry the plates and accoutrements back into the galley, then washed her hands.

He did the same. ‘Coffee?’

‘Yes, please—I don’t believe it!’

He raised an eyebrow at her.

‘It’s eleven o’clock.’

He grinned. ‘Almost Cinderella time. Sit down. It’s getting a bit cool outside. I’ll make the coffee.’

Liz sank down on to the built-in settee that curved around an oval polished table. The settee was covered in mushroom-pink velour that teamed well with the cinnamon-coloured carpet, and there were jewel-bright scatter cushions in topaz, hyacinth and bronze.

She looked around. There were two lamps, shedding soft light from behind their cream shades, and beyond the saloon up a couple of steps was the wheelhouse, almost in darkness, but with a formidable array of instruments and pinpricks of light. A faint hum echoed throughout the boat.

Where she sat was superbly comfortable, and she could see across to the galley where her boss—she amended that. Her lover-to-be?—was making coffee.

‘I could have done that,’ she said.

‘I can make decent coffee.’ He reached for a plunger pot from the cabinet, then a container of coffee from the freezer. ‘I have it down to a fine art,’ he continued. ‘Same coffee, same size measuring spoon and I can’t go
wrong.’ He took down two Wedgwood mugs, spooned the coffee into the pot, poured boiling water on and balanced the plunger on top. ‘Four minutes, then plunge.’

Liz couldn’t help herself. She started to laugh softly. ‘So you have an identical set-up in all your houses?’