on a cast.’
‘Exactly.’ Gray sat forward, eager to voice the question that had been plaguing him. ‘So—how do you think Anna and Josh will cope with going back to Australia with me?’
He hoped she would answer with an easygoing shrug and a quick reassurance.
They’ll be fine. They’re over the worst now.
To his dismay, she dropped her gaze to her coffee cup and twisted it in her hands.
His throat tightened uncomfortably. ‘I thought my place—somewhere completely different—might help them. Might be a…a distraction.’
Holly looked up again and, when her dark eyes met his, she was frowning. He saw no hint of reassurance.
He spoke again quickly, needing to strengthen his case. ‘This apartment must hold so many sad memories for the children. Won’t it help them to get away?’
Her mouth opened again as if she was going to reply, but then she hesitated.
Gray’s entire body tensed. ‘You agree, don’t you?’ He forced an awkward shrug. ‘I admit you know my children better than I do. I’d value your opinion.’
She responded with a faint smile. ‘I certainly hope they’ll be fine, but I can’t promise it’s going to be easy, Gray. I’m no expert, but from everything I’ve read—’
‘Everything you’ve read?’ He felt himself tense. As a cattleman who’d always relied on purely practical skills, he was sceptical about the glorified merits of the written word.
Perhaps Holly sensed his doubt. Her cheeks flushed deep pink but, when she spoke, she lifted her chin and her dark eyes narrowed. ‘I’ve never had any first-hand experience of grief, certainly not with helping children who’ve lost a parent. So I consulted a GP who referred me to a psychologist, and I’ve done some reading, too. After all, the books are written by experts.’
The skin on the back of Gray’s neck grew hot. Not quite meeting her gaze, he said, ‘So what did the experts have to say?’
Holly set her coffee mug on the table with exquisite care, as if it were a rare antique. ‘It seems that children who’ve suffered a loss can benefit from a predictable routine and structure. The familiarity of a routine helps them to feel secure.’
A predictable routine.
Structure.
Security.
Gray’s heart sank. Predictability and security were scarce commodities in the Outback. Cattlemen and their families lived at the mercy of the elements, or at the whim of fluctuating markets. Daily, they dealt with the problems caused by isolation and vast distances.
He recalled all the things his ex-wife had hated about his lifestyle, and he thought about his experience over the past three months—being cut off by the floods, almost running out of supplies, busting his leg in a flooded river.
Doubts crowded in. What was he doing here? How could he take his kids away from this safe and secure world that they knew and loved?
Abruptly, he stood and strode to the window where he dipped a slat in the blinds with one finger and stared down at the crowded pavements and busy traffic below.
Without looking at Holly, he said grimly, ‘If the experts in your books are right, the last thing my children need is another big change.’
Unhappily, he folded his arms over his chest and his jaw jutted belligerently. ‘I’m planning to drag Anna and Josh halfway across the world to a place that’s completely different from here, and your book-writing experts are telling me it’s the worst thing I can do.’
FOR a moment, Holly was seriously tempted to tell Gray that yes, his children would be much better off if they stayed right here in Manhattan. Of course they’d be happier if they were allowed to continue in this familiar environment—living in this apartment, going to their highly acclaimed school, playing with their select circle of appropriate friends.
For three months she’d been trying to follow the psychologists’ advice. She’d built little rituals into the children’s days so they always had something to look forward to.
She’d carefully planned mealtimes around their favourite nutritious foods, and she’d scheduled regular after school treats. Of course, she’d made sure that bedtime was special with their favourite stories. And plenty of hugs.
But she couldn’t suggest that Gray would not be able to meet his children’s needs. She’d witnessed his deep emotion when he’d first greeted his children, and she could see the incredible tension in his face right now as he waited for her answer.
Gray wasn’t just a proud, possessive male reclaiming his rights. He was a man who loved his children very deeply. Chelsea’s parents had told her that over the past three years he’d made the arduous journey from Australia to America several times a year, just to see them.
Holly knew that her possibly selfish opinions about the benefits of staying in America had no place in this conversation.
She drew a deep breath. ‘Anna and Josh want to be with you, Gray. You’re their father.’ After a beat, she added gently, ‘They’ve missed you very much.’
His face softened a fraction. ‘But it’s still going to be hard for them to leave here and to make the change, isn’t it?’
She couldn’t deny this. ‘You should probably be prepared for one or two tricky moments.’
‘I was hoping that if I stayed in New York for a few days, and gave them a chance to get used to me again—’
‘I’m sure that will help. And, while you’re here, we can both talk to them about what to expect on the journey and when they arrive in Australia.’
Gray nodded, and let his thoughtful gaze fix on the row of windows on the opposite wall, as if he was seeing far into the distance. Then he sent Holly a slow smile.
Despite the fact that Holly was thinking about Gray’s children and not his looks, something very odd happened to her insides. She dropped her gaze from the sudden flare in his light blue eyes and found safety in the tan leather duffel bag, dumped on the floor by the sofa.
It was the sort of bag that would look at home on a dusty homestead veranda, or in the back of a battered pickup. Here, in this city apartment, however, the scuffed leather holdall looked out of place, almost like a symbol of everything that had been wrong about Gray’s marriage to her cousin.
Chelsea had rarely talked about the problems that had sent her scurrying home from Jabiru Creek to New York. It was clear to everyone that her decision had been painful—that she hadn’t stopped loving Gray, but that she’d loved her ballet and choreography more. There’d been no jobs for a choreographer of Chelsea’s calibre in Outback Australia and, in the end, she’d found it too difficult to relinquish her city life and her career.
She’d told Holly once, ‘It was a fatal attraction. Gray and I were wrong for each other and in almost every way. I think we both sensed from the start that our marriage was doomed, but our feelings were so intense we still had to give it a try.’
Now, sitting mere metres from Gray Kidman’s intensely masculine presence, Holly was all too aware of the force that had urged Chelsea to take that risk. He was still disturbingly attractive. Looking at him, the word manly seemed to take on new meaning.
Abruptly, she jumped to her feet. ‘If you’ve finished your coffee, I’ll show you to your room and you can stow your things away.’
She charged across the room, feeling a need to put a sudden distance between them.
‘Holly, before you go—’
Slowly…she