least it did in Dane’s opinion; it seemed his parents thought differently.
‘I moved out years ago. Soon after you left, in fact. I’ve got my own place in North Adelaide. It’s close to work. Jus and I have an IT business there.’
‘Then I’m taking you out of your way.’
‘Not a problem. I like driving.’ He glanced in the rear-vision mirror, frowned at the car which had been tailing them since they’d left the wedding, and with a sharp twist of the steering wheel pulled over to the edge of the road. ‘Especially when you get a view like that.’
An almost full moon lifted out of the landscape, bleaching the fields and spilling inky shadows beneath the gums. From the corner of his eye Dane watched the car behind slow down, pass, then continue on.
‘Oh…wow.’ Mariel shimmied upright, her face animated in the soft glow. ‘I’ve missed this. It must be the atmosphere here, but the Aussie moon looks so much bigger than the Parisian moon.’ A quick grin danced over her features. ‘And wouldn’t they kill me back there for saying that?’
‘They wouldn’t if they were here,’ Dane murmured, his thoughts tumbling back in time. As a kid, how many evenings had he spent watching possum shadows play amongst the trees against a star-studded sky? Gazing at the moon in all its phases?
Waiting until it felt safe enough to go inside?
He shook his head, edged back onto the empty road. Being with Mariel after all this time was tossing up old memories.
The last time he’d seen her she’d been careening down his father’s driveway, grating gears and spraying gravel as she fishtailed onto the road.
He pressed his foot harder on the accelerator. The sooner he got her home, the better off he’d be.
The better off they’d both be.
A few moments later they approached her parents’ home. Dane checked the road behind him again before turning into the driveway. Since Mariel didn’t have a remote, he climbed out, punched in the code Mariel gave him on the panel set into the stone pillar and the tall gates swung open. They continued down a long drive, where blue agapanthus bordered a healthy lawn on one side, a row of old pines on the other. Ivy climbed the walls and iron lace framed a wide veranda. As they came to a stop three security lights winked on, but no light shone through the front door’s stained glass.
He peered up at the blackened windows. ‘Your parents out?’
‘They left for a Pacific cruise yesterday. Thanks for the lift.’ Her eyes flicked to his. He glimpsed nothing in those dark depths, as if she’d blanked all thought.
He didn’t want her to go in yet. Not this way. Hell, not as this polite and distant stranger.
He reminded himself their childhood friendship had been years ago. She wasn’t the young, innocent girl he remembered, with her fairytale dreams. She was a successful, mature and independent woman.
And what a woman she’d grown into. Those youthful curves had only grown lusher, and if it were possible her face more beautiful.
He switched off the ignition, sensed her instant panic. ‘Mariel…’
‘No.’ She closed her eyes briefly. ‘Not tonight.’
His hands tightened on the steering wheel momentarily. But tension showed in the lines around her mouth, the smudges beneath her eyes. ‘I’ll walk you to the door.’
‘It’s okay; this isn’t the city,’ she said, swinging the car door open.
‘I’ll walk you to the door,’ he repeated, and pulled his key out of the ignition. Some things hadn’t changed—still as stubborn as she’d always been.
And as fast—she was already halfway up the path before he’d climbed out. The aftermath of the day’s heat still blanketed the earth, thick and smelling of dried eucalypt and pine.
Metal tinkled as she fumbled with house keys, holding them aloft and squinting at them under the porch light.
‘Allow me.’ Dane took the keys from her hands. The brush of skin against skin sent a tingle through every nerve-ending in his fingers, up his arm and straight to his groin.
The flash of awareness when their eyes met was a stark reminder that they could never go back to the easy camaraderie they’d once had.
He wasn’t sure he even wanted that with her any more. Less than an hour in her company and his wants, his desires, were fanning to life inside him like a bushfire sweeping up from the valley floor.
She broke eye contact first, and a breathlessness caught at her throat when she said, ‘Phoebe gave them to me, but I didn’t ask her which one opened the front door…’
He fitted a key into the lock but the door opened without it. ‘Not locked,’ he said.
‘Oh…that’s probably my fault. I assumed the door automatically locked once closed.’ Someone who didn’t know her as well as he did wouldn’t have noticed the slight sag in her posture.
Dane stepped past her and through the doorway, located the light switch. A warm glow from the antique foyer lights gleamed on polished wood and brass fittings, and brought a rich luxury to the burgundy carpet runner.
She glanced at the discreet panel on the wall as she followed him inside. ‘Damn. I didn’t even remember to set the alarm. Dad’ll throw a fit if he finds out.’
‘Only if you tell him.’ Without looking at her, he started down the hall. ‘I’ll check the place before I leave.’
‘That’s not necessary,’ she assured him quickly. A sudden nervous energy spiked her voice.
‘Yes. It is. Anyone could have come in.’
‘I look after myself these days.’
‘I’m sure you do.’
A few moments later, ground floor covered, he started up the stairs, switching on lights as he checked the rooms. Mariel followed, muttering protests. He paused at the last door on the left.
Mariel’s room.
So he left the light off. But as soon as he’d stepped inside he realised he’d made a mistake. Moonlight flooded the room, spilling over an open suitcase, a dressing table strewn with tubes and bottles. He breathed in the mix of feminine potions, powder and perfume like a man who’d gone too long without.
He’d never denied himself the pleasures to be found in a woman’s bedroom, but at this moment he couldn’t remember a single one that had ever compared to that one all-too-short time in Mariel’s arms.
Dangerous thoughts. He dragged his attention back to the task he’d set himself. ‘Everything seems to be okay, so—’
‘Of course it is,’ she snipped. ‘I told you it was. But did you ever listen to me? No. Oh…Why did you have to come in and…? Be you.’ She punctuated those final agonised words with a long slow breath.
The old guilt rolled nastily through his gut. In the pregnant silence that followed he heard the wind sigh through the trees, an echo of his own feelings. ‘I thought that was what was so good about us,’he said, his eyes fixed on the moon but not seeing it. ‘We could be ourselves.’
‘Once upon a time, in a galaxy far, far away. Maybe.’ Mariel switched on the light. He didn’t know why, except that maybe the moonlit scene reminded her, too. He turned to face her. She’d folded her arms across her chest and was watching him with unnerving calm. Either that or she was a damn good actress.
‘It’s been a while, Queen Bee.’
He felt rather than saw her little hitch of breath at the use of her old nickname, then she pulled herself up straighter, lifted her chin. ‘I’m not that inexperienced, trusting little girl any more.’