Читать книгу Summer Beach Reads - Natalie Anderson - Страница 33

HE’D made his point but he didn’t feel particularly good about it. Hours later and far out to sea, Hayden was still rattled by that kiss. The kiss he’d initiated then rapidly lost control of.

He’d lost control before, but it was always a carefully reined surrender. Even letting himself go came with some strict rules and recovery solutions. At all times.

With Shirley he’d literally lost it. His body participated in direct defiance of his will. On its own agenda. Nice little karmic reward for being a bastard and bending her to his will.

Just because you can …

He released his fingers from the punishing fists he’d made standing there at the bow of the Paxos, resting his arms on the aperture in the high wall which protected the crew and cargo from potentially high seas. Other people clenched their teeth when they were stressed, he clenched his fingers. To the point of pain.

It was unconscious but it made his dentist happy.

‘Hayden.’

Shirley spoke, soft and tentative, behind him. Knowing he was the cause of her uncertainty only infuriated him more. He turned slowly and faced the music.

She was in black from head to toe but it was just a T-shirt and leggings and she’d toned her make-up right back to a translucent foundation. Closer to what it had looked like the day she’d wiped Boudicca from her skin. Hayden stared at her and she shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny. When he wasn’t being distracted by dramatically highlighted eyes and burnished coffee lips it was possible to appreciate the fine texture of her skin. He’d attributed its smoothness to her make-up. But it looked as if it was all natural.

He cleared his throat. ‘You honoured our bargain.’

One elegantly plucked brow arched. ‘You thought I wouldn’t?’

‘I thought I might have voided it.’ By kissing you.

She glanced away briefly. ‘I asked you a question and you answered it. It wouldn’t be reasonable to protest.’

‘Most people would.’

‘I’m not most people.’

No. She wasn’t.

‘Anyway, I came to get you. There’s something you need to see.’

‘Where?’

‘Towards the back of the ship.’

A mosaic of sea-containers? He could see those from here. But what else did he have to do with his time other than humour her? Even a half-hour in the stuffy little cabin had done his head in.

‘Lead on.’

She led him down the length of the ship and then stopped as she slipped one shoe on from its resting place against a giant blue sea-container. It was only then he realised she’d come to him barefoot. It seemed so comfortable on her he hadn’t stopped to think how out of place it was on a working freighter.

‘I worried I might not find it again,’ she said, her face strangely alight, turning down a gap between the high-rise of stacked containers.

‘For someone who takes things so seriously you seem unnaturally delighted by shipping containers.’

She laughed but didn’t turn, continuing into the man-made valley. ‘Just wait …’

They turned at her next shoe and he began to understand why she’d needed markers. Without the horizon to keep you oriented, this was a maze. She marched onwards then peered to her right—straight into another container from where he stood—paused and turned back to him, looking for all the world like a delighted child.

Was it a coincidence that he’d only been able to remember her after she’d shed the Shiloh mask?

She grinned at him. ‘What’s the thing least likely to be around this corner? In the whole world?’

The rapid mental shift that question required took him a moment to adjust. He thought of the craziest and most unlikely thing he could conceive. ‘My parents having high tea.’

The delight fell from her face just slightly and her slim fingers rested gently on the edge of the container as she frowned at him. She wouldn’t know—about them, about why that was such a ludicrous concept, whether they were at sea or not—but she was smart enough to read between the lines.

‘I assume it’s not that,’ he said to cover the silence. To mask his sudden pain.

She straightened and backed up, holding one hand out as though to take his across the emptiness between them, keeping her eyes firmly locked on his. Warm. Beckoning.

A true Siren …

It was only as he stepped towards her that he realised it wasn’t a solid wall of sea containers to her left; it was another turn. A turn which opened out to—

‘What the—?’

Her face split into a radiant smile and he stumbled to a halt, utterly and genuinely dumbfounded for the first time in his entire life.

A giraffe.

It stood, munching happily on straw and staring at him with a general sort of curiosity as he stood gaping at it. It was housed in the biggest animal crate he’d ever seen, with an opening large enough for it to stretch its long neck and head out of and get a whiff of the sea. A large sort of container clearing had been built around it at the heart of the ship to shelter it from rough weather but give it some sense of air and space.

The strangest sense washed through him—alien and long-forgotten.

Wonder.

Had it really been that long since something had amazed him? Moved him the way those enormous thick-lashed, liquid mercury eyes did. This extraordinary creature standing in this extraordinary place.

Maybe so.

‘Back again?’ A blonde woman stepped out from behind the crate and murmured quietly to the giraffe before turning her attention to Shirley. She was dressed casually but had the boots and tan of someone who worked outdoors for a living.

‘Hayden, this is Caryn,’ Shirley said next to him. ‘And that—’ she nodded at the enormous chomping head fifteen feet above them ‘—is Twuwu. She’s en route to a new home in New Zealand.’

Shirley greeted the woman as he still struggled to find words. En route to a zoo. Of course she was. He’d never had occasion to think about how else you got an animal as big as a giraffe across an ocean.

Shirley went straight into Shiloh mode, asking what were clearly not her first questions of the day, examining the box, leaning back on a tower of containers and just … contemplating. He watched her do her thing but mostly he watched Twuwu. She was so very unconcerned by what was happening around her, content to merely munch on her hay.

‘Is she sedated?’ he asked.

Caryn turned to him and gave him a winning smile. She was every bit a daughter of nature. Golden-haired, tanned, fit. And interested. Instantly obvious.

‘She was lightly sedated for the drive down to the port, and the loading. But she’s fully recovered now.’

‘She’s placid.’

‘She’s spent a lot of time in that crate preparing for the journey. It’s become like her stable.’

He glanced around at the multicoloured wall of containers that surrounded the crate on all sides. ‘What would happen if she saw the ocean?’

Again the brilliant smile. Caryn sank on one hip and looked up at him. ‘Hopefully we won’t find out.’

Shirley rejoined them. ‘Will you stay out here for the whole journey?’ she asked tightly.

‘Most of the day, monitoring her condition, but I’ll sleep up in the cabins with everyone else.’

Did she just flick him a glance? Yes, she did.

Well, well …

Shirley continued with her questions and, before long, they knew everything there was to know about international wildlife transactions and the toiletry habits of giraffes. He watched Shirley work—drawing conclusions, filing away every answer for a future story. Eventually all the questions were asked and all the good reasons to be hanging around evaporated.

‘You should come back and visit Twuwu during the trip,’ Caryn said to Shirley but her eyes flicked to his again. ‘She likes company.’

Shirley thanked her and they retraced their steps back through the maze of containers from the heart of the ship to the edge.

‘You seem very relaxed.’ Just when he thought he liked her best off kilter. Mellow Shirley made him think about long, lazy summer sleep-ins. Naked.

Not appropriate.

‘There’s something about this ship … Maybe it’s the gentle sway … But it chills me out. I find myself relaxing.’

‘Maybe it’s me?’

Her immediate laugh ricocheted off the containers. ‘It’s not you.’

Right. Then again, his first instinct on getting her alone in a room with a bed in it had been to paw her. So …

‘The giraffe then?’ Twuwu had certainly done wonders for his blood pressure.

‘Maybe.’ They turned out of the massive load of containers at the edge of the ship. ‘I’ll certainly be visiting again. What an awesome bonus.’

Their next steps passed in silence. Until he couldn’t take it any more. ‘What do you want to do now?’ he blurted.

She turned and blinked at him. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Us. What will we do now?’ And for the next four days.

She laughed and started walking again. ‘Don’t know about you, but I’m going to start a story for next week.’

He frowned. ‘You’re working on this trip?’

‘Of course. So are you.’

He was supposed to be. But … ‘We’re in the middle of the ocean. Surely that demands some down time?’

‘You’ve had two years of down time. Are you really so hungry for more?’

No. But he was hungry for something and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. It was an odd kind of … emotional famine. Then it dawned on him.

He wanted company. Shirley’s company.

‘I’m bored. Sea life is interminable.’

She laughed again and jogged ahead of him up the functional steel staircase. He lagged back to appreciate the view. ‘We’ve only been out of the harbour for a couple of hours, Popeye,’ she said.

‘Entertain me.’

She threw him an arch look back over her shoulder. ‘Entertain yourself.’

He thought about Caryn. Then dismissed it. Prodding at Shirley was so much more fun. ‘You can write your story when it’s dark.’

‘I plan to be sleeping when it’s dark.’

‘Really?’ He followed her from the deck into the long corridor that their cabins were in. ‘That’s a lot of cabin time. What will I do?’

She paused at her door. ‘Whatever you want. I have work to do.’

Seriously? She was ditching him? ‘Will I see you in the mess room?’

She turned back from unlocking her door. ‘Seven p.m. sharp.’ She stepped into the room, faced back out at him and leaned on the door. Smiling the way you did to door-to-door salesmen you wanted to get rid of. ‘See you then.’

And then she was gone and Hayden stood staring at the flaking paint on the timber, speechless for the second time in a day.

Blonde.

Of course she was. And, in case Hayden hadn’t noticed her golden locks, Caryn had tossed them around unmissably. Her skin as tanned as Twuwu’s markings and with lashes just as long, too. And all the while she’d hovered off to the side, ignored, with her thick hair hauled back in a sea-sensible ponytail and her face virtually make-up-less.

Shirley lay back on one of the two beds in the room and glared at the ceiling. Could it be any more grey or uninspiring?

Could she be any grumpier?

She’d liked Caryn just half an hour earlier. They’d chatted for ages about her work and destination. Then she’d introduced Hayden, picked up on the none too subtle vibe pinging between the two of them and rapidly gone off her.

Not that it was Caryn’s fault. She was blonde, gorgeous and willing. Exactly Hayden’s type, even if she was wearing steel-capped boots and serviceable shorts and not something slip-thin and expensive. And she herself had been the genius to go and find him and hand him, gift-wrapped, to the only blonde on the freighter. It was entirely self-inflicted.

She sighed.

She’d just … She’d wanted him to have the experience she’d had. The discovery. Coming around that corner and seeing that beautiful animal, so misplaced and unexpected. And she’d enjoyed giving it to him. Everything had gone slow motion just then, as she’d fixed her eyes on his and stepped backward to bring him out into the giraffe’s eye line. His face had transformed in that moment, practically glowed, and she had—for precious seconds—a glimpse of the old Hayden. The young man who’d found every aspect of life a revelation. She remembered that face from when she’d hidden under the stairs and watched him through the door crack on Saturdays.

And she’d given him that today.

And then his eyes had refocused on their target—a blonde, the only kind of woman he ever dated—and they’d hardened back into the new Hayden. The Hayden she’d met that very first day at his cottage. The Hayden who was bored with life and out to wring its riches. He hadn’t done much else—he hadn’t needed to, really, because Caryn seemed happy to carry the burden of the flirting—but her implication was clear.

Come back and visit …

Yay.

She pushed herself onto her side and sat up. Work. She’d said it to get a clean break from Hayden, but suddenly it did seem like a reasonable distraction from her unsanctioned thoughts about the kiss. First, unpacking had been a good excuse to stay in here long enough to lose him to his curiosity about how freighters worked. Then roaming the deck and the Lego-stacks of containers.

Now work.

Caryn’s chat had triggered a blog idea. About the unseen challenges of international livestock transactions. Zoo animals, racing horses, stud bulls. How many other unique passengers were sitting in crates on ships, planes and trucks around the world right at this moment? It was as unsung as travelling the world on passenger freighters.

She sketched out the preliminary outline of a story and jotted down some research ideas. That neatly took care of … oh … minutes.

‘Ugh.’ She threw herself backwards and stared again at the offending ceiling. Had they not painted this vessel at all since it was commissioned?

Hayden was responsible for this off-balance mental mess. His incendiary kiss. It had been as unexpected as the giraffe. Though, like the giraffe, once discovered, it was a hard thing to put out of your mind. She’d had to work hard out there on the deck not to keep staring at his mouth. Remembering.

No doubt Caryn the zookeeper would be discovering it very soon.

She’d never met anyone as cynical and miserable as Hayden. That he believed love was a challenge you negotiated rather than something that just struck you … And that he thought it so pathetic that she believed otherwise. That he developed plans for big businesses to better exploit the community.

That was not the boy she’d hidden in the shadows to watch.

The man he’d become might have a full bank account but his moral account was sadly lacking.

Judging him made her feel vaguely better about letting him kiss her.

She forced herself up, back to her laptop, back to the outline of the story she could feel burbling, and verbalised it to tell herself she really meant it.

‘Enough.’

A knock at the door ripped her out of the concentrated place where she’d lost time.

‘Shirley? It’s Hayden.’

Seriously? Could the man not amuse himself for an hour? She had that thought even as her chest tightened around the anticipation. She hit ‘save’ on her work, stood and yanked the door open. ‘Yes?’

He stood there, casually but gorgeously dressed. A clean shirt and well-fitting trousers. Shaved, even. And smelling pretty much like ambrosia.

‘Are you coming up for dinner?’ he said. ‘I thought we were meeting up there?’

She blinked. Half at his appearance and half at what him being showered and shaved meant. ‘Now?’

‘It’s past seven.’

‘Right!’ How many hours had she lost in her story? That was always a good sign for an engrossing read but not great for saving face in front of Hayden. ‘Coming.’

Every instinct called her to put on Shiloh’s face—eyes, lips, pallor, carefully chaotic hair—because she’d be meeting strangers, but she remembered her commitment to Hayden and she was determined not to be the one to break faith. On principle. She slipped on her shoes and untwisted the elastic holding her hair back. Sea or not, if tumbling masses were good enough for Caryn …

She raked her fingers through the waves to give it body and then smiled at Hayden. ‘Sorry. Let’s go.’

Mistake number one.

The wind conditions buried below deck—or even behind a wall of sea containers—and the wind conditions at the top of a freighter were not the same thing. Immediately her hair whipped like silken razors around her face in the gusts, tangling and flying. She wrangled it down as best she could and twisted it in her hold until they reached the outer door of the Paxos’s galley. Hayden held the door for her from outside and she stepped through.

Six people turned to look at her—five crew and one zookeeper.

Awesome. Nothing like a subtle entrance.

She blew loose strands from her sea-whipped face and plastered on a smile. ‘Sorry I’m late, everyone. I got absorbed in my work.’

She summed up the seating arrangement at a glance. Two empty seats on opposite sides of the table and the one next to Caryn had a half-drunk bottle of Hayden’s favourite non-alcoholic beverage in front of it.

Okay …

She moved towards the second vacancy, flanked by the ship’s crew.

Introductions were brief, given most of the crew spoke only Greek, but a man she hadn’t yet met had good English and proved himself an admirable translator. He was the Paxos’s Captain. Just as Greek as the rest of them, just as old and weathered, but somehow more … striking.

Or maybe it was just the uniform.

Hayden sank back into his seat next to Caryn, who immediately drew him back into conversation.

As dinners went, it wasn’t the worst she’d had. The food was unexpectedly good and the mood at the table was genial. In fact, the buzz of tension between her and Hayden was the only thing marring it. He glanced up often, inspired by the booming laugh of Captain Konstantinos or the smiles of the crew, or to frown at something one of them said to the other in Greek. And she did her best to follow along between sips of Australian wine. Caryn was outstripping her in that regard, putting away two glasses to her one.

The wine brought immediate colour to Shirley’s cheeks in a Mrs Claus way rather than the appealing slash of colour up the jaw like it did on the vivacious blonde.

Typical.

Caryn talked and Hayden listened, apparently rapt, and responded on cue. Brief but sufficient. She was certainly doing all the talking in that little relationship. But then Caryn’s conversation was not what he was interested in. Fortunately, it looked as if she was equally prepared to let body language do the real talking. She turned three-quarters in to him and leaned forward to brush or touch him, a lot.

Eventually the night and the meal drew to a close and the crew retired to their bunks or to their shifts. Shirley stood as the man next to her did and smiled at him. ‘Thank you, Captain. That was lovely.’

He murmured in Greek and then kissed her hand in a sweeping gesture and told her, in English, that the ship’s cook had something suitable for breakfast or lunch at any time they cared to visit the mess room but that everyone dined together nightly.

‘Tomorrow night, then,’ she said smiling.

Hayden stood and gave Caryn his arm to help her to her feet. ‘Tomorrow night, then,’ he echoed brightly.

Maybe if she’d had less wine under her belt Caryn wouldn’t have let the stab of confusion actually show on the outside, but Shirley saw it as Hayden turned to shake the Captain’s hand. She allowed a momentary pang of sisterhood sympathy; Hayden had given Caryn his undivided attention for over two hours now suddenly it was ‘goodnight’? She shot her a smile she hoped would be equal parts sympathetic and confederate.

Shirley moved to the door and Hayden crossed to stand behind her, reaching over her shoulder to push it open.

‘Batten down the hatches,’ he murmured as it gusted open.

The wind had picked up in the time they’d been in the warmth of the Captain’s table, so her hair immediately exploded into a tangle around her face. Hayden moved to her other side to help shield her from the worst of it, but all she could do was move as fast as possible back along the deck and down to the floor below where the cabins were, her arms curled around the billowing mess.

She practically fell through the door into the accommodation corridor and he tumbled in behind her. They occupied the few metres to their doors by exclaiming relief at the sudden drop of the elements and then they stood, facing each other, at their respective thresholds.

‘I’m coming in,’ Hayden announced.

She studied the trace of anger at the corners of his lips. But there was no point fighting it and, truth be told, nine o’clock was rather early to be going to bed, even for her. She opened her door and stood back to give him access and prepared for an onslaught.

‘Please, speak to me of something of consequence,’ he declared, tumbling like a felled tree onto the second little bed in her room.

The door hung open. It saved her mouth from having to similarly gape. She gently clicked it shut and released the handle. ‘You’ve had nothing but conversation all night.’

‘No.’ He slid his hands behind his head to replace the pillow she’d stolen to stack on top of her own. ‘I’ve had nothing but yammer all night.’

‘She was talking of her home. Her family. Things that were important to her.’

‘How could you hear through all the Greek on your side of the table?’

Because she’d been motivated to eavesdrop. And because she’d always been a good lip-reader—a skill she’d perfected under the stairs. ‘It was a small table.’

‘Longest two hours of my life.’

‘That’s not fair. If you weren’t interested you could have changed the subject.’ By the moment, her loyalty was swinging back Caryn’s way. Poor woman. She spent all day in the company of a giraffe and he begrudged her a little verbal offload. ‘Or gone wild and contributed to the discussion a little.’

He snorted. ‘You think the conversation lacked momentum? She talked for two hours solid.’

‘It wasn’t a conversation. She was doing all the work and you just sat there being enigmatic and mysterious.’

‘I wasn’t striving for enigma. I was striving for polite.’

Oh, really? ‘Was it polite to skip out immediately the food was taken away?’

‘You were about to.’

‘I didn’t have an offer so clearly on the table.’ She balled her hands at her hips and glared down at him. Suddenly the flirtatious Caryn had taken on Everywoman status. And Hayden had assumed the wrongs of every man who had ever done womankind a bad turn.

He stared at her for heartbeats. She struggled to rein in the inexplicable heaving of her lungs.

‘I wish you could see yourself right now,’ he murmured, his eyes dark and keen.

Her hands immediately went to the disaster that was her hair and she hated that they’d acted of their own free will. It shouldn’t matter what she looked like. Kiss or no kiss.

‘Don’t,’ he warned. ‘You’ll ruin it.’

Her fingers paused a breath away from contact, trembled just slightly. ‘Ruin what?’

‘All that colour. All that chaos. It’s perfect.’

She dropped her hands. ‘You think windswept shambles is the right look for me?’

‘I think anything that brings life into your eyes is a good look. But that one particularly.’

She narrowed her eyes. ‘Why?’

He grinned and wriggled in more comfortably. ‘If I told you that, Shirley, you’d throw me out. So how about a new subject?’

A clamp tightened around her organs way down deep inside. ‘What if my conversation also fails to meet the rigid standards of Hayden Tennant?’

‘Impossible. You could speak of the weather and I’d find it interesting.’

She stood firm. ‘Shall we test that theory?’

The grin graduated into a full smile. ‘No. Let’s talk about the list. About how we’re going to get ourselves up to Queenstown.’

The list. That was safer, yes.

‘I don’t know.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s an adventure. Let’s just see how we go.’

She should know. Flying by the seat of her pants was not how Shiloh usually rolled. She really needed to start getting her mind around what would happen beyond the four days with Hayden.

‘And so we get there, jump, and then come back to port and these cabins? Seems rather a shame. New Zealand’s very beautiful. And romantic.’

‘We’re not going for the romance. We’re going for the adrenalin rush of leaping off a bridge.’

‘This doesn’t strike me as something Carol would have been into. Needlessly scaring herself witless.’

She sat on her own bed and tucked her legs up next to her. ‘I don’t think it’s about the fear; I think it’s about the sensation. The free fall. She might as easily have picked skydiving.’

‘I don’t see her as a sensation-seeker, either. She was so …’

Shirley lifted a brow. ‘Serious?’

He shook his head. ‘Cerebral.’

‘So bright people trade their right to feel for intelligence? You, of all people, think that?’

He looked up. ‘Why “of all people”?’

‘Because you’re the ultimate sensation-seeker. Or you were.’ The photos online showed that.

‘Are you saying you think I’m bright?’

She’d thought so once. As brilliant as a polished gem. ‘Don’t fish for compliments, Hayden. It belittles you.’

‘I’d like to know. I know you think I’m disparaging and mean-spirited and idle. It might help balance things out a little if I thought there was any positive in there at all.’

She hadn’t called him any of those things out loud so it must have leaked through in her attitude. Natural justice made her confess, ‘You were always brilliant, Hayden. And ten years hasn’t done anything to diminish that, it seems.’

He considered her. ‘For what it’s worth, the feeling is mutual.’

She tossed her hair back further from her face. ‘It’s worth nothing. I don’t care what you think of me.’

‘Oh, that’s clearly not true, or you wouldn’t be sitting here twitching to comb your hair.’

Again her fingers betrayed her. She curled them into her fist.

He didn’t miss it. His eyes darkened and grew sharp. ‘Ask me what I meant when I said this look particularly suits you.’

‘No. I don’t care what you meant.’ And the thump thump of her heart was a powerful motivator to silence.

‘Yes, you do. You’re just too scared to know.’

She glared at him silently.

‘I meant that you look like you’ve just crawled out of a particularly warm and sensual bed.’

Heat instantly returned to her cheeks.

‘There it is again. The splash of passion.’

Damn him. She tightened her fists. ‘If you’d wanted to play with someone’s emotions you should have stayed upstairs.’

‘Why can’t I just be commenting on fact? You’re usually so impeccably presented, so seeing you like this is … stimulating.’

‘You should have stayed upstairs for that, too.’

‘Are you trying to force me to go knocking on Caryn’s door?’

Tension cranked up her spine. ‘Actually, no, I don’t think she’s done anything to deserve the heartbreak you’d inevitably bring.’

One dark blond brow lifted. ‘Harsh words, Shirley. You doubt she would understand the concept of a one-night stand?’

‘I doubt she’d ever have conceived of what a one-night stand with a man like you might mean.’

The suavadore act dropped. Immediately. The air turned dangerous. ‘Meaning?’

Her heart thumped for a different reason then. But she’d started it … ‘Meaning it might not be enough for you just to have her and leave. You’d have to break her first.’

He stared. ‘“Break her”? Is that what you think?’

‘It’s what you do, Hayden. You take people apart. And you don’t always take care to reassemble them again.’

His jaw flexed. ‘Have I done that with you?’

He’d done it to year after year of idealistic students on Saturdays. ‘I won’t give you the chance,’ she vowed. ‘Ever.’

‘Forever’s a long time.’

‘Fortunately, I have outstanding discipline.’

His smile deepened. ‘Oh, yes, you do. But don’t you see what that is to a man like me?’

She watched him, critically aware that they were alone, in a room full of beds and not much else. And critically aware of what had happened between them the last time they were here. He twisted his body into a seated position, facing her. Closer.

‘It’s a red rag.’

She lifted her chin. ‘I still have free will.’

‘I think we’ve seen how far your free will got you, just this afternoon.’

‘I’m not interested in a one-night stand.’

His brow lifted. ‘You’d be interested in something longer?’

‘No, but that’s a moot point. You’d never want something longer.’

‘You think not?’

‘I know not. If you did you’d have shacked up with any one of those women years ago.’

‘What do you have against them? They were all perfectly nice women.’

‘Give me one single name.’

He blinked at her.

‘Just one, Hayden. If they were so lovely.’ She waited. ‘I think there’s a reason you’re so sold on the idea of a love that’s intellectual, because it means you can explore the physical with no risk of attachment. Keep the two firmly separate.’ She stood. ‘But I’m not interested in being your intellectual intimate any more than your physical one.’

Liar!

His face hardened. ‘Why not?’

‘Because you’re too much like hard work. And too risky.’

Blue eyes narrowed. ‘What are you risking? Not your heart, which you’ve firmly stated is inviolate. And not your body, which you protect behind layers of sod-off. So what’s left?’

My soul.

‘Is this the conversation you were looking for when you came in here tonight?’ she gritted.

‘No. But maybe it was overdue. I certainly appreciate knowing how you really see me.’

Guilt niggled. ‘Hayden, I wouldn’t be here with you at all if I thought you were a horrible human being. You’re not. But you’re not someone that a woman should be backing, emotionally. Not once she gets to know you.’

He reeled back on the bed.

Then he stood. ‘Right.’

She stood behind him, stepped towards him. ‘Hayden—’

Hayden stopped her with an upheld hand. ‘I’ll see you in the morning, Shirley.’ He got through the door and pulled it shut behind him before breathing again.

Not pity. Not on top of the mouthful of reality she’d already delivered. Just when he thought he didn’t have anything soft and squishy left inside, along came Shirley in her metaphorical commando boots and ground what little was left into pulp.

Not once she gets to know you.

Not that he hadn’t long suspected it—or could even disagree with it—but something about having it spelled out quite so dispassionately …

By her …

Well, he’d wanted conversation. And one thing he knew about Shirley was that any time spent with her would never go where he thought it would. He’d imagined himself a cosy little scenario that involved the two of them talking long into the night, sharing. Bonding. He’d not let himself imagine anything beyond that, but her wild and dishevelled state over dinner had teased and taunted and distracted him for most of the evening as he’d pretended to listen to Caryn but in fact fantasised about ways of getting Shirley that mussed up himself.

She’d been happily engaged in a long conversation with their trusty Captain about piracy on the high seas—though, given a chance and despite his age, he’d bet his life that the charming Captain Konstantinos would have proven just as untrustworthy with his passenger—and he’d had the double assault of endless monologue on one side and the Shirley Marr show on the other. Complete with seamen who didn’t know he understood some Greek discussing with much hilarity the comparative merits of tanned blondes versus sultry brunettes.

The brunettes won.

It wasn’t fair to blame Caryn for not being as interesting as the only other woman in the room. The two were completely different people. Night and day. Except he’d spent his entire life indulging in bright, obsequious day when deep down inside he was all about the cool, mysterious night. The cover of night disguised so many more faults.

Shannon. Courtney. Louisa. Dominique.

He had as many names as Shirley could possibly want to hear. It wasn’t a struggle with recall that had kept him silent; it was the implication of her words. That he should have started a life with one of them by now. That he was late to some kind of party and that it was his personal failing.

Did she not see the irony?

Shirley had more shields around herself than any man could possibly negotiate. She’d be single and stoic until her last breath, despite her great faith in the random lightning-bolt strike of love.

Who was she to judge his choices?

He reached into his room and grabbed his coat, then headed for the wind storm outside. It was too early to sleep, even if he believed he could. But there was a lot of unexplored ship out there yet.

And a lot of disquiet to burn off.

He wandered the entire circumference of the freighter, staring out through the occasional slot in the bulky siding into the vast nothing of the ocean and up into the vast everything of space. So far from the visual pollution of land, and despite the floodlights at the front of the ship and the glow of the full moon, the stars seemed to blanket the dark sky. Together they were more than ample to see by.

But one circumference was complete and he wasn’t yet ready to return to the solitude of his cabin, which was insane because the past two years had been all about solitude. He turned into the heart of the sea-containers massed in the middle of the vessel.

He heard Twuwu’s contented rumination—a kind of chew and snort combo—before he turned the corner into her clearing. A bit of time in the company of a female with no expectations, no opinions and no judgements to cast. That was what he needed.

‘Hayden?’

Hell. Awful timing on his part.

‘Out for a walk?’ Caryn asked. The caution in her voice was immediately obvious and his mind went straight to Shirley’s defence of the woman. He sighed.

‘Caryn, I think I owe you an apology …’

They talked for quite some time as Caryn finished her checks on Twuwu and settled her for the night. She accepted his fumbled explanation and his assurances of regret for his hasty departure earlier in the evening.

‘Is it Shirley?’ she asked, wiping her hands on her jeans.

His denial was instant. Too fast. Like his pulse at the mere suggestion of something more going on with him and Shirley. ‘It’s such a short trip, Caryn …’

She called him on that deflection. ‘You don’t really strike me as a man who would have a problem with something short-term.’

‘I’m not.’ At least he wasn’t. That thought got him frowning.

‘I thought we had a spark.’

And a spark might once have been enough. More than enough. The truth—and the outrage of what it signified—burned. ‘It’s me.’

She stared at him long and hard. But what could she say, really? Other than the obvious. ‘Fair enough. Your loss.’

Maybe so. And given how tightly wound he’d been after storming from Shirley’s room, definitely so. ‘Come on, I’ll walk you back.’

‘Oh, God, chivalry? You really aren’t interested.’ She fell in beside him.

It felt good to laugh. And it felt strangely pleasing to have treated this woman with respect. This woman who loved her family and her homeland and was happy to talk to a stranger for hours about them.

‘Can I ask you something, Caryn?’

‘Shoot.’

‘Is your wildlife park anywhere near Queenstown?’

‘About four hundred kilometres away.’

Oh. It was worth a shot.

She took pity on him. ‘But we go right through Queenstown on the way.’

He lifted his head. ‘Will you need any help with Twuwu on the journey?’

She laughed. ‘No. There’ll be a whole transport team meeting us at Invercargill. Why? You need a lift?’

‘It’s a long story, but yeah.’

‘Let’s see what happens. There’re always multiple vehicles.’

He held the door of the accommodation deck for her and dropped his voice. ‘Thanks. We’ll even ride in with Twuwu if we need to.’

‘Are you kidding? No one gets to do that.’ She stopped a few doors down from Shirley’s room. ‘This is me.’

He shoved his hands into his pockets, carefully away from her. He wasn’t used to negotiating his way out of a woman’s room. ‘I appreciate your understanding, Caryn,’ he whispered. ‘Considering.’

She laughed in the silence and unlocked her door. ‘I think I understand a lot better than you do.’

‘See you tomorrow.’

‘Yep. Bright and early.’ She stepped into her room.

‘’Night.’

Her door clicked shut. Hayden leaned on the corridor wall and looked diagonally down the hall at Shirley’s door. Would she have given him points for that? For extricating himself with care and leaving Caryn’s pride intact?

He gave himself a few. And that was rare.

He pushed off the wall and his expensive shoes took him silently down the hall. He opened his door gingerly to avoid waking Shirley. It closed just as quietly.

The entire time he’d paced the ship’s deck he’d been working himself up to the decision that he would sleep with Caryn just to show Shirley he didn’t care what she thought. To do something with the useless tension resonating through his body and maybe to prove himself as heartless and soulless as she clearly believed. If he was going to burn, it might as well be justified.

Yet here he was, heading to bed solo.

So, all those points he gave himself for treating Caryn with compassion …?

He ripped them off again for being so damn weak.