Читать книгу Harry St Clair: Rogue or Doctor? - Fiona McArthur - Страница 9

IT SEEMED Jimbaran Bay had become an institution like Kuta with a long strip of restaurants.

The beach lay stretched to the north of them with choose-your-fish and lobster tanks, flame-leaping barbecues and the biggest array of fresh seafood Bonnie had seen for years.

Then there were the hundreds of wooden tables spread across the sand almost down to the lapping water, each restaurant’s tables abutting each other as they squeezed side by side.

A pall of barbecue smoke lay over the parking area when the taxi dropped them off, people coming and going, taxis and private cars and even limousines jostling for space. And, of course, hundreds of motorbikes parked in orderly rows.

Bonnie gazed in awe at the confusion and choice. ‘How do you know which restaurant to eat in?’

‘Been before. I have my favourite and they’ll save a good table for me.’ Harry watched her drink it in. Her pleasure made him look again, inhale the smoke, hear the chatter between the competing restaurants, and recognise some of the reasons he seemed to end up here when he came down to this end of Bali.

But most of his unusual lightness of heart seemed to be emanating from being with the woman at his side. Strange, that.

She walked with him down the concrete passage between two vying shopfronts and he could feel her presence near his hip like a little force-field of energy reacting with him. Swirls of awareness prickled like the sprays of loose sand that flicked off their shoes as they walked.

When they hit the beach the sun had well and truly gone, a darkening silhouette of a fishing boat glided out on the waves as the candles flared into life along the tables. Darkness fell softly, like one of those cashmere pashminas the women wore here. He heard her sigh out a little more tension from those militant shoulders and it made him feel good.

Bonnie felt herself relax as she looked around. This was different. Time out of the real world, maybe because of the semidarkness. She could get used to eating in the dark on a beach too. It was so unlike her to come with a stranger but there were enough people to keep her safe here and she could always catch her own taxi home. And suddenly it felt fun to be out with a good-looking man for an uncomplicated dinner. Her friends would be very proud of her.

They crunched through the sand all the way down to the water’s edge. Bonnie glanced at couples and families and noisy groups of tourists all munching and laughing in groups as they passed.

To her delight every table had at least one person sucking milk from a coconut through a straw. The cheerful mood lifted her spirits even higher. She used to be a happy person and it was nice to glimpse a little joy again.

Finally their waiter stopped at a table. It wasn’t quite in the water but there was no one in front to obscure the last of the glow on the horizon. She stood for a moment and just gazed out over the waves. Definitely a cool place to have dinner.

Harry beat the waiter to her chair and pulled it out for her. ‘Your throne, madam.’

She could feel the hairs on her arms respond to his nearness. Visceral response. Pheromones. This wasn’t good. She wanted flirtation, not irreversible fascination. Please, not that sort of happy. Her eyes met his and she didn’t smile. ‘I’m your dinner partner, not your date.’

Snap. Reality bit. Harry was silent as he sat down and then picked up his fork to examine it. Carefully—while he let her words sink in. Nice fork. Silver with three tines. Not much of interest there. ‘Got it. No chairs held. And I’ll have no deep and meaningful conversations from you either,’ he joked, but there was an underlying truth in his words.

He glanced up and caught the fiercely guarded expression on her face. She was as bad as him. Funny how he’d never realised how bad he was. ‘What about car doors? Did that offend you?’ He saw her face tighten even more.

She closed her eyes and held up her hands and he could foresee the moment when she’d say she shouldn’t have come.

Panic flared in her eyes and he cursed his stupidity.

Some bloke had done a doozy on her. Oops, he thought, but didn’t say it out loud. He accepted the message and tapped the table so she looked at him. He tried selling his smile again. ‘I’m sorry.’

That was when he realised he didn’t know her name. Pleasant and non-threatening dinner conversation coming up. ‘I really don’t want to eat alone. But what shall I call you?’

Bonnie forced herself to calm down. Panic weakened defences and that was the last thing she wanted. Her name? Now, there was a dilemma. She had this stupid urge to make up a name, something wildly outrageous that he’d know wasn’t real, so it didn’t cause problems but would maintain distance in case she needed more space than he was willing to give.

Brain vacuum didn’t help. ‘Bonnie.’

‘So tell me, Bonnie …’ He paused and she smiled to herself because it was plain he didn’t believe that really was her name. Delicious.

‘Are you in Bali long?’ He sat back in his chair with a little smile curving his lips. Good grief, he had gorgeous lips.

She blinked. ‘A week. Then I start a new job.’

‘So what’s your new job?’ When he leaned back his shirt stretched over his chest and her mouth dried.

She tried to unobtrusively rustle up some saliva so she could answer. ‘Outreach nursing, at Ayers Rock. I’m a registered nurse and midwife and do short stints in isolated places.’

A strange expression crossed his face so fast she couldn’t guess the cause. Interesting but he didn’t explain it. Just nodded.

Blimey. Talk about danger, Harry thought. The same place as the job he’d declined. And too close to a town he wanted to forget. His wife had been a midwife, they’d met at Katherine when he’d worked for the RFDS. Fate was out to smack him apparently.

When he changed the subject she didn’t seem to notice. Thank goodness. He’d already said he only wanted a dinner partner, which apparently suited her fine.

Back to discussing her might be safer. ‘So what have you done here in paradise you wouldn’t have done at home?’

She gestured to the beach in front of them. ‘Apart from dining with a man I don’t know, you mean?’

He wasn’t silly enough to fall into the trap. ‘Hmm.’

She shrugged. ‘Nothing, really. Swam, but I did that in Darwin, shopped at markets and watched the sunset over the ocean, but we do that at Mindil on Thursdays and Sundays in Darwin too.’

He watched her think about it. Her thoughts may as well have been typed up on a screen. It was amusing how transparent she was and he found it delightfully refreshing. ‘While I’m here I’d like to see some of the countryside. The terraced rice fields and a volcano—none of those where I come from.’

He nodded. He’d found a topic. ‘So you should do the bike ride from Agung.’

He could tell she’d vaguely heard of it but couldn’t place it. ‘And that would be …?’

He gestured loosely in the direction of Kuta. ‘Up in the mountains, a couple of hours’ drive, well worth it. The bike ride’s about twenty-five kilometres long.’

‘Probably not happening, then.’ She shrugged. ‘I haven’t ridden a bike for ten years.’ She laughed at the thought. ‘That’d be a sight. I wouldn’t be able to stand up after.’

Bonnie tried not to get sucked under his spell but his smile was infecting her. Flashing like a beam over the waves when she least expected to see it in the gloom and made her think of the lighthouse again. He sat forward a little, leaning towards her in an effort to enthuse her. ‘The ride’s all downhill. Through villages, rice fields, over a river. You’d love it.’

She only had a few days left. She doubted she’d organise herself enough for that. ‘I don’t think bike riding’s on my list.’

She watched him frown. ‘Sure it is. If you’re up for it, let me know. I have great contacts.’

She’d love it but she didn’t need his help. Or his company. One night of exposure and flirtation was enough to start with and this guy was just too potent for a bruised heart like hers. ‘I’ll see what the girls say.’ They’d probably ask how many men were going. But she wasn’t debunking the myth that she had protection.

Thankfully it seemed he’d accepted she wouldn’t be pinned to a decision. ‘So what else would you like to do while on beautiful Bali?’

Well, she knew she didn’t want to talk about herself. Never had really. ‘How about you tell me what you’re going to do. How long you’re here for?’

He raised his dark brows and smiled. ‘So bossy,’ he said. She wished.

Then, as if vaguely surprised at himself, he did answer her. ‘I’m here indefinitely. There’s a house up in Ubud. My mother lived there a few months every year. I’ve been visiting for a while.’

Real watch evidently. ‘Wow. And I’m guessing you have servants and everything.’ Even she could hear the reverse snobbery in her voice. Where had that come from?

He tilted his head and she guessed he’d heard it too. ‘There’s a family that maintain the buildings, yes. Have done for fifty years. Ketut and his wife have looked after my mother and she looked after them. But like family—not servants. You have a problem with that?’

Of course she didn’t. And the idea of extra family was a sweet one. She’d be happy to have a distant aunt, let alone a Balinese family looking after her. No reason on earth why she should mind except to wonder why he wanted to waste his time with her. ‘No. I’m sorry. I keep putting my foot in it with you—not sure why. It’s not common for me.’

‘Maybe it’s because I keep you off balance.’ He grinned. ‘But, then, that’s not nice for a platonic friend so I’ll apologise too.’ He glanced down at the menu. ‘We’d better order before it’s too dark for you to see what you’re eating.’

Now her hunger seemed to have soaked into the sand under her feet and she wished she could follow it. Who was out of practice as a relaxed dinner companion? ‘What are you having?’

He put the menu back on the table. ‘I’ll do the set plate with lots of seafood and a side salad.’

She couldn’t even read the menu in the dark. ‘Sounds good.’

He sat straighter and glanced around. ‘You get a drink with it. Have you tried the local beer? It’s very light.’

She’d seen it advertised everywhere. ‘No, but bought the T-shirt.’

He grinned and signalled the waiter, who appeared like magic. ‘We’ll have two Jimbaran specials, two beers and a coconut drink, please.’

Obviously she’d been blatant with her curiosity about the coconuts. But it was nice he’d seen her interest. Or was it? She’d need to watch this man. He was unobtrusively delightful.

The waiter produced two beers from his passing friend, set them down and departed with a big white smile. Harry handed one over to her. Then he carried on the conversation as if there’d been no break.

‘Those T-shirts are the most common exports with tourists. Hope you didn’t pay more than twenty thousand rupees for it.’

So he was focused. She’d need to watch that too, but she’d been dying to talk to someone about this.

She tapped her glass with her fingernail. ‘I have issues with bartering. I can see the Balinese enjoy it, but I’d prefer just to buy the darn thing without the hassle. I find it very stressful to pretend I’m offended at the price.’

He took a sip and when he didn’t answer, she decided to copy him. A tentative sip. The drink was light, still beery and she wasn’t that much of a fan, but it was cold and wet and felt wonderful going down.

Then he said, ‘Wimp,’ and she nearly choked. He grinned and went on. ‘Barter is fun. It’s part of Balinese culture, like mental gymnastics. Good bargaining can make a huge difference to a family wage if they’re lucky. But the experience should never be unpleasant or too pushy.’

‘Yeah, well. I’m such a sucker.’ She sighed. ‘What do you do when people look sad and you feel guilty you haven’t bought anything?’

‘You smile.’ He grinned and showed her how. If he smiled at someone like that they’d probably give him the thing, she thought. Free.

He went on. ‘It’s the secret of Bali. Smile and mean it. For bargaining, if they start at fifty thousand rupees, you offer twenty-five. They’ll look horrified, you smile and they’ll smile and counter with forty. Then you say thirty and they’ll take thirty-five. It’s always good to aim for about five thousand under what you want to pay so the seller wins. It’s good luck for the seller and we can all do with that.’

Not an accurate picture of barter when she was involved. She tended to wilt at the first horror and fake accusation. ‘Forty-nine thousand would be a good barter for me. That sounds easy but it’s not.’

The light from the candle flickered across his face. He shook his head and she decided he didn’t have a bad angle she could concentrate on. ‘That’s because you’re thinking personal. It’s not personal. When it all boils down to it, if you want something, think about what you’d pay for it and be happy. Then change what they’re asking into your currency and you’ll see you still have a bargain. Carry a printed version of your dollar versus their currency. It’s simpler to remember that way.’

She wasn’t sure she was ever going to enjoy bargaining but maybe she’d give it a go with a little more enthusiasm. She could write out a conversion table. ‘Okay.’

Or maybe she hadn’t sounded as convinced as she’d thought because he said, ‘Or look for fixed-price shops. There’s always one around and then you’ll get a fair price, not quite as cheap but they’ll take out the wild swings when someone really good reels you in.’

She glanced at his confident face. ‘I bet you don’t get reeled in.’

‘Not often. By the Balinese anyway.’ There was an added nuance she didn’t want to identify and thankfully their food arrived.

By this time it was darker, and even though her eyes had adjusted, the candle gave off small circles of light that didn’t include the platter beside her. The waiter brought two more tiny candlelights but she still couldn’t see what she was eating. ‘So this is a taste sensation, not a visual one?’

He laughed, deep and amused, and she felt like a trickle of that cool sand under her feet had slid down her back and along her arms. Well, she was on a beach. It was okay. But she had a strong premonition there was more trickling sand to come.

‘Want to see your dinner?’ She watched him shift his body and reach into his pocket and then suddenly there was a blinding flash.

She rubbed her eyes. He laughed again. ‘Sorry. Should’ve warned you.’ His smile beamed in the night as her vision began to recover and he handed her his camera. ‘It looks like this.’

Bonnie’s meal was captured for posterity and illuminated clearly on the camera screen. ‘You’re really a do-now-think-later kinda guy, aren’t you?’ But she could see a long barbecued fish, brown and crunchy, and one gruesome eye. She wished she hadn’t seen that but at least she wouldn’t accidentally eat it in the dark. She shuddered.

‘The less thinking the better,’ he said cryptically, then went on. ‘The ones in the shells are mussels, and despite the thought if you’re not a shellfish eater, they taste wonderful. King prawns, calamari on skewers, crab and lobster meat piled on the side. And the green salad.’

It was all recognisable now. Actually, quite a neat trick to take the photo, she acknowledged, at least to herself. ‘Obviously you’ve used this in the dark before.’

He tucked the camera away in his pocket. ‘Too many times on my own. I’m glad you came.’

‘So am I.’ She was. And feeling more relaxed. Bonnie didn’t think it was the beer, though maybe it had more of a kick than he was letting on, but the atmosphere here would make anyone feel good.

Smiling Balinese waiters, the muted wash of the waves just a few feet away, candles all around them and brighter lights in the distance. Every now and then a plane took off or landed at Ngurah Rai airport across the water and the stars had started to shine more brightly as the night deepened. ‘This is pretty cool. Thank you for bringing me.’

‘You’re welcome.’ Her coconut drink arrived and even in the dark it looked huge. ‘Do you want me to take a photo of that so you can see it?’

She thought of the brightness of the flash and the disruption of the mood. ‘I can guess. It’s not worth the eye pain.’ She picked it up and the milk inside sloshed. ‘I’ll never finish this.’

‘That’s why I only bought one. Drink what you fancy and leave the rest. I’ll finish it so you don’t feel guilty.’

There was something disturbing about the thought of him drinking from her straw, too easy to picture and not without sensory ramifications. She turned the conversation.

‘The stars are amazing.’

‘Bit too much light here to do them justice.’

‘I love stars but wish I knew more about them.’

‘I’m not much better,’ he said, and they both glanced up then down at each other and for some reason they both laughed. The beginnings of a dangerous rapport. They both sobered.

Bonnie broke the silence. ‘So what do you do while you’re over here?’ She took a sip and the strong flavour of coconut overlaid the beer.

He attacked his meal as if he wanted distance from that moment too. ‘Nothing.’

He paused as if waiting for her to say how terrible to drift between jobs, but she wasn’t going to.

For a short time, nothing would be great. And that pastime would be as far away from Jeremy as possible. Her ex didn’t know anything about cultivating stillness. The longer they were parted the better she was feeling, except she’d learned a very valuable lesson about people who lied.

‘So you don’t get bored?’ She took another bite and chewed while she waited. The fish melted in her mouth and the tang of lime made her sigh with bliss.

He put down his fork. ‘Not yet. I do a bit of diving up at Lovina, some surfing.’

She picked up the coconut again. This meal was a symphony of different flavours and she was glad she hadn’t chickened out. Surfing, diving, eating on beaches. Sounded idyllic. For a while. ‘Do you do anything constructive? What’s your profession? Your job when you’re not surfing?’

Anything worthwhile? His raised eyebrows noted the observation that lay unspoken between them, but still the question had popped out and mentally she shrugged. Well, she did want to know because surfing and scuba diving wasn’t a lifestyle, especially if he was trained to do something useful, or had done in the past.

She’d been devastated by her love life bombing out but she hadn’t given up her life to hide in a distant country. No. If she was honest, she’d hidden in work. Which was the reverse of what he’d done, she supposed.

He was silent for a few beats. ‘Sometimes I build things, work in the fields every now and then. And I’m studying yoga.’

The last thing she would have connected with him but then, he did occasionally give off restful vibes. ‘I can’t quite see you and yoga together.’ She thought about it some more. ‘So you’re going to be a yoga teacher? I guess both our professions are about health.’

‘No. I’m studying it for myself.’

She laughed. He amused her, he really did. ‘Selfish ‘R’ Us? Who will look after you if you don’t?’

‘That’s right.’ He sat back in his seat and smiled. If she wasn’t mistaken, she’d say he was relieved by her amusement.

She couldn’t imagine not having work to take her mind off the rest. ‘So what about your parents? What do they think of you growing old on an island?’

‘They’re both dead.’

Oops. ‘I’m an orphan too. It sucks.’ She really didn’t want to talk about this and wasn’t sure why she was except she felt somehow responsible for the conversation. ‘My mum died when I was twelve. Never knew my father and my gran brought me up. She died three months ago. I nursed her at home.’ And my sleazy fiancé slept with his ex and stole all my money while I was busy. But she was getting over that. Really.

‘Tough, but special. So you normally work as a midwife?’

‘Mostly. I trained in Darwin, did a little time in ICU, but mostly a midwife. I love working remote in short stints but you miss out on the births mostly that way.’

She speared another succulent piece of fish. ‘And you, before you came here?’

‘Different things. None of them useful.’ Slam. She felt the whoosh from the shutting door. Now she wished she’d shut her mouth. She kept it closed in case something else came out that she’d regret and ate another piece of fish and left him with the silence. He’d caused it.

Harry had a pretty good idea what she was thinking. Well, what could he say? She wasn’t getting the truth. Oh, did medicine, fell in love, lost wife and child because I was stupid, now have abdicated from world.

By the time she’d finished her fish he could see she was full. Not a big eater, he gathered. In fact, she seemed a little on the thin side.

When the waiter returned he shook his head at the proffered menus. ‘I’m guessing you don’t need sweets.’

‘No, thank you.’

‘Any chance of a quick stroll along the beach before we leave?’

She opened her mouth to say no but he kept talking and successfully forestalled her. Another win to him. ‘Just to let the food settle. Only as far as the tables go and it’s in plain view of everyone.’

He could see she hated the thought of giving in to him again. Her independence amused him and only made him more determined to conquer her reserve. He wanted to win! Now how long since he’d felt that?

Bonnie didn’t know where this competitiveness had come from but probably she should listen to it as a warning signal. She was her own woman. Then her mouth said, ‘Maybe for a few minutes and then I must get back to my friends.’

‘Sure.’ He stood up and despite their initial conversation he helped pull out her chair. ‘It gets a little tricky in the sand when the chairs sink in a bit.’

Bonnie felt him beside her. Her arms did that hair-waving thing again and this time the shiver went right down to her toes. To break the mood she said the first thing that came into her head. ‘Are you saying I’m so heavy I bogged my chair?’

His teeth flashed as he glanced at her figure. ‘No.’

He nodded at the waiter to say they’d be back and they took the few steps to the water’s edge and began walking along towards the airport in the distance. They didn’t speak but strangely it wasn’t as awkward as she’d thought it would be.

The waves lapped politely, no big chasers in the occasional wash up like happened at home, just gentle lapping that never threatened her light slides, or her concentration at maintaining a safe distance.

The sand crunched firmly beneath their feet and the stars overhead twinkled benignly down on them. She could feel her annoyance from his refusal to discuss his life recede like the water beside her and she let it go.

It didn’t matter. Really it didn’t. She didn’t know him. Probably wouldn’t see him again and it had been a very pleasant meal.

Then he ruined it. ‘Any chance of meeting up tomorrow?’

She fought back the overreaction she wanted to make, like a full-throated scream of Yes, and impressed herself by the way her answer slid out quite lightly. ‘No.’

‘The day after?’

She wanted a flirtation, not an affair. Already she was too aware of every facial expression, every shrug of those lovely shoulders and the strength in those powerful legs that walked beside her. Sensory overload. She glanced at him. ‘Thanks for dinner. Can we go back now?’

Harry felt her pull away, even though her body didn’t move. It was a subtle stiffening and leaning to increase the distance between them. Unmistakable. Well, he’d blown that. Not something he was used to doing but he was just out of practice. Funny how he could be smooth with someone he didn’t care how it went with and a bumbling idiot with someone he wanted to impress.

Now, why was he trying to impress her? He slanted a glance at Bonnie of the determined chin and wondered why as they walked back to their table. He liked it that she was taller than most women, though she was a little frail. He could easily imagine being able to span her waist with his hands, and maybe he should insist on dessert to fatten her up.

She seemed too fragile to him. Maybe nursing her gran had really taken it out of her. He could feel the swell of empathy pulling bricks out of the walls he’d built over the last two years, snapping mortar and the solid pattern of layers like a berserk tradesman. Now, how had he left himself open to that?

His sensible side began a mental slurry of cement on the cracks and crumbles and hardened his heart. Then the words came easily.

‘I’ll pay the bill and take you home, then.’