cradled his mug of tea while he watched the sun lift out of the water. It swam on the horizon, a ball of fire shimmering in the early morning haze. Fingers of crimson spread along the yacht’s decking and stroked his skin with sultry warmth. The air was thick with humidity and the smell of the ocean, the way he liked it.
To his right, tropical rainforest capped a steep peak, then dipped all the way down to a golden ribbon of sand. If he looked to his left he could see the conical shape of one of the Barrier Reef’s unspoiled islands rising out of an indigo and turquoise sea.
This was paradise.
Who wouldn’t give their all to be in his place right now? He breathed deep as he watched a flock of seabirds dip and dive, and took a bite out of his toasted bacon sandwich. The water lapped at the hull, the sails flapped lazily.
This was freedom.
He could take the time to enjoy the wind in his hair and the sun on his back. No one to tell him what to do and how to do it. No one to tell him when to get up, where to go.
No one.
He shook off the edgy feeling. He wasn’t lonely. He could drop anchor at the nearest marina any time and chat with the locals at the yacht club. He didn’t need company.
Why waste time building relationships that always ended? Why build a home, settle in one place when he could take his seafaring home anywhere he wanted?
This was living the dream.
All he needed was a seaworthy boat, food on his plate and a comfortable bed. He curled both palms around the railing. All he wanted was peace and solitude and a blue horizon.
The hell it was.
One night after she’d closed up, Lissa looked at a tiny apartment that was becoming available at the end of the following month. No sea views but she couldn’t afford to be choosy. She drove home feeling happier than she had in a while.
As she pulled into the driveway she saw a stretched limo out the front of Gilda’s house. Off to one of her charity events, no doubt.
It wasn’t until she was walking along the path to the front door that she heard the footsteps behind her.
‘Ms Sanderson?’
‘Yes?’ She turned as the uniformed driver approached and it occurred to her that she’d felt none of that tingling alarm that had dogged her for so long.
‘Good evening.’ He took off his chauffeur’s cap. He was medium height with an easy smile and greying hair and he handed her his ID. ‘My name’s Max Fitzgerald and I’ve been asked to give you this package then wait until you’re ready. I’m to transport you to your dinner meeting.’ He handed her a large flat box.
She frowned at the ID. He appeared to be who it said he was. Should she be suspicious? ‘I don’t have a dinner appointment,’ she said. ‘I bought a frozen meal on the way home.’
‘You didn’t receive a text message explaining?’
Oh? ‘I haven’t checked, I’ve been … busy …’ She fished in her handbag for her phone. The screen lit up at her touch and she opened the text.
Lissa, you can trust Max. It’s time we discussed moving on with the rest of our lives.
She recognised Blake’s number.
For a few stunned seconds she couldn’t move. Then her heart flipped over and dropped like a stone. Now he wanted to talk? Just when she was getting used to not having him around?
He probably had tenants waiting to lease the house and wanted her to vacate. He wanted to get on with the rest of his life.
Or did he think that he could just turn up out of the blue and whistle—or text—and she’d come running? Other women might but not Lissa Sanderson. He couldn’t even be bothered inviting her personally to have this discussion or collecting her himself?
‘I’m not free tonight,’ she told Max, slipping her phone back into her bag. ‘I’ll text him. Thanks, you can leave.’
‘He told me you might say that. He asked me to beg you to reconsider.’
‘I don’t—’
‘Please, Ms Sanderson.’ Max ran his fingers over the cap in his hand. ‘He asked me to get down on one knee if I had to and I’m getting too old for all that.’ His eyes lit with humour. ‘My joints aren’t what they used to be.’
Lissa stared at him. Blake had begged? Pleaded? He wanted to see her that badly? A glimmer of something like hope flickered inside her but she pushed it down. ‘There’s no need for that.’ She looked at the smooth, white, expensive-looking box in her hands. ‘Why don’t you come inside and I’ll just see what’s in this package.?’
‘I’ll wait in the vehicle, if that’s all right with you, ma’am. Take your time, I’ll be here till dawn.’
‘Dawn?’ Was he serious?
‘Mr Everett explained you like to party on occasion.’
‘Did he?’ she murmured. Obviously he thought she’d got on with her life. She didn’t know whether to be amused or offended. ‘Okay, Max. I’ll be sure to let you know my decision soon.’
The moment she was inside, Lissa pulled the string off the box. Her heart raced as her fingers scrabbled through the mountain of tissue paper.
A slimline gown of the palest aquamarine. It shimmered in the light as she drew it out. Or maybe it was the tears that sprang to her eyes making it seem so.
‘Oh, my … goodness.’ She’d never seen anything more exquisite.
Her arms shook as she held it against her. It flowed to the floor like a slender stream of clear spring water. Shoestring straps and a low back that dipped to her waist.
As she raced upstairs to try it on she didn’t let herself think, dared not allow herself to hope.
MAX was out of the limo the moment she stepped through the front door twenty tension-fraught minutes later. ‘Very becoming,’ he said, nodding as she approached. ‘You look lovely.’
‘Thank you.’ She smoothed a hand down the slippery fabric. It fitted like a dream. She wondered if that was what this was. Just a dream. Like the ones she’d had so many years ago.
He reached into the vehicle and withdrew a small bouquet of creamy gardenias and presented them to her as he opened her door.
‘Oh …’ She inhaled their delicate green fragrance. ‘Thank you, again.’
She slid inside and set the flowers beside her on the soft leather seat. Through the speakers, Robbie was singing about angels. A bottle of champagne chilled in an ice-bucket beside a crystal flute.
‘Can I pour you a glass of champagne before we leave?’ Max asked.
‘Oh, no.’ She pressed a hand to her jittering stomach. ‘I really couldn’t.’
As they drew smoothly away from the kerb she tried to remember the last time she’d refused champagne. But right now her insides simply wouldn’t tolerate it. And she needed a clear head to face Blake.
This might seem like a dream but she couldn’t be sure it was the dream she wanted. Wouldn’t allow herself to think beyond the next step. According to his text, he was expecting them to have a discussion. Over dinner. Maybe he liked women to look sophisticated when he dined. Or maybe. She shook her head and looked out at the darkening tropical sky with its anvil thunder-heads building over the hinterland. She refused to contemplate any more maybes.
The journey took only a few minutes. At the Mooloolaba Marina she stepped into the deepening