Читать книгу One Unforgettable Summer: The Summer They Never Forgot / The Surgeon's Family Miracle / A Bride by Summer - Sandra Steffen - Страница 13
ОглавлениеTHE FIRST THING Sandy noticed on the beach early the next morning was the dog. A big, shaggy golden retriever, it lay near a towel on the sand near the edge of the water with its head resting on its paws. Its gaze was directed out to the surf of Big Ray Beach, the beach she’d reached via the boardwalk from the bay.
Twelve years ago she’d thought ‘Big Ray’ must refer to a person. No. Ben had informed her the beach had another name on the maps. But the locals had named it after the two enormous manta rays that lived on the northern end of the beach and every so often undulated their way to the other end. He had laughed at her squeals and hugged her close, telling her they were harmless and that he would keep her safe from anything that dared hurt her.
This morning there were only a few people in the water; she guessed one of them must be the dog’s owner. At six-thirty, with strips of cloud still tinged pink from sunrise, it was already warm, the weather gearing up for sultry heat after the previous day’s storm. Cicadas were already tuning up their chorus for the day.
Sandy smiled at the picture of doggy devotion. Get dog of own once settled in Melbourne, she added in a mental memo for her ‘to do’ list. That-Jerk-Jason had allergies and wouldn’t tolerate a dog in the house. How had she been so in love with him when they’d had so little in common apart from their jobs?
She walked up to the dog and dropped to her knees in the sand. She offered it her hand to sniff, then ruffled the fur behind its neck. ‘Aren’t you a handsome boy?’ she murmured.
The dog looked up momentarily, with friendly, intelligent eyes, thumped his plumed tail on the sand, then resumed his vigil.
She followed the animal’s gaze, curious to see the object of such devotion. The dog’s eyes were fixed on a man who was body-surfing. His broad, powerful shoulders and athletic physique were in perfect sync with the wave, harnessing its energy as it curled behind him and he shot towards shore.
The man was Ben.
She knew that even before he lifted his head from the water, a look of intense exhilaration on his face as he powered down the face of the wave. He was as at home on a wave as he had been when he was nineteen, and for a moment it was as if she were thrown back into the past. So much of her time with him that summer had been spent on this beach.
She was transported back to a morning like this when she’d run from the guesthouse to the sand and found him riding a wave, accompanied by a pod of dolphins, their grey shapes distinct on the underside of the wave. Joy and wonder had shone from his face. She’d splashed in to meet him and shared a moment of pure magic before the pod took off. Afterwards they’d lain on their backs on the beach, holding hands, marvelling over the experience. Did he remember?
Now he had seen her watching, and he lifted off the wave as it carried him into shore. She wanted to call out to him not to break off his ride on her account, but knew he wouldn’t hear her over the sound of the surf.
He waved a greeting and swam, then strode towards her through the small breaking waves that foamed around his legs. Her breath caught in her throat at his near-naked magnificence. He was so tall and powerfully built that he seemed to dominate the vastness of the ocean and the horizon behind him.
His hair was dark and plastered to his head. The water was streaming off his broad shoulders and honed muscles. Sunlight glistened off the drops of water on his body so he seemed for one fanciful moment like some kind of mythical hero, emerging from the sea.
Desire, sudden and overwhelming, surged through her. Her nipples tensed and she seemed to melt inside. She wanted him. Longed for him. How could she ever have left him? She should have defied her parents and got back to Dolphin Bay. Somehow. Anyhow. Just to be with him.
That was back then. Now they were very different people who just happened to have found themselves on the same beach. But the attraction was as compelling as ever, undiluted by the years that had passed.
Why couldn’t she forget that special time they had shared? What kept alive that fraction of hope that they could share it again? It wasn’t just that she found him good-looking. This irrational compulsion was more than that. Something so powerful it overrode his rejection of her overtures. He didn’t want her here. He had made that clear from the word go. She should just return his acquaintance-type wave and walk on.
But she ran in to the knee-deep waves to meet him. The dog splashed alongside her, giving a few joyous barks of welcome. She squealed at the sudden chill of the water as it sprayed her.
Remember, just friends, she reminded herself as she and Ben neared each other. Give him even a hint of the desire that had her so shaky and confused and he might turn back to that ocean and swim all the way to New Zealand.
‘Good morning, Mr President,’ she said. Ben as leader of the business community? It took some getting used to. And yet the air of authority was there when he dealt with his staff at the hotel—and they certainly gave him the deference due to a well-respected boss.
‘Just Ben will do,’ he said as he walked beside her onto the dry sand. As always, she had trouble keeping up with his stride.
She was finding it almost impossible not to look at his body, impressive in red board shorts. Kept casting sideways glances at him.
‘So you’ve met Hobo,’ he said, with an affectionate glance at the dog.
‘No formal introductions were made, but we said hello,’ she said, still breathless at her physical reaction to him. ‘Is he yours?’
She felt self-conscious at Ben’s nearness, aware that she was wearing only a bikini covered by the skimpiest of tank tops.
‘My mother helps out at a dog shelter. Sometimes she brings dogs home to foster until they find permanent homes. This one clapped eyes on me, followed me to my house and has been with me ever since.’ He leaned down to pat the dog vigorously. ‘Can’t get rid of you, can I, mate?’ He spoke with ill-concealed affection.
So he had something to love.
She was glad.
‘He’s adorable. And he guarded your towel like a well-trained soldier.’
Ben picked up the towel from the sand and flung it around his neck. How many times had she seen him do that in just the same way? How many times had he tucked his towel solicitously around her if her own towel was damp?
‘What brings you to the beach so early?’ he asked.
She pulled a face. ‘Had to walk those Snickers bars off.’
‘How many gone?’
‘Only two.’
‘One for dinner and one for breakfast?’
‘Chocolate for breakfast? I’ve got a sweet tooth, but I’m not a total sugar freak.’ She scuffed her foot in the sand. ‘I couldn’t sleep. Kept thinking of all I don’t know about managing a bookstore.’ Kept thinking about you.
He picked up a piece of driftwood and threw it for Hobo. The dog bounded into the water to retrieve it.
‘You took a lot of notes from Aunt Ida yesterday.’
‘It’s just nerves. Bay Books is so important for Ida and I want to get it right.’
‘You’ll be fine. It’s only for a few days.’
No doubt he meant to sound reassuring. But it seemed as if he was reminding her yet again that he wanted her out of Dolphin Bay.
‘Yes. Just a few days,’ she echoed. ‘I guess I won’t bankrupt the place in that time.’
Hobo splashed out of the shallows with the driftwood in his mouth, grinning a doggy grin and looking very pleased with himself. He dropped it between their feet.
Sandy reached down to pick it up at the same time as Ben did. She collided with his warm, solid shoulders, felt her head connect with his. ‘Ouch!’ She rubbed the side of her temple.
‘Are you okay?’ Ben pulled her to her feet and turned her to face him.
They stood very close, her hands on his shoulders where she’d braced herself for balance. He was damp and salty and smelled as fresh and clean as the morning. It would be so easy to slide her hands down, to tangle her fingers in his chest hair, test the strength of his muscles. Every cell in her body seemed to tingle with awareness where his bare skin touched hers.
She nodded, scarcely able to speak. ‘That’s one tough skull you’ve got there. But I’m fine. Really.’
He gently probed her head, his fingers sending currents of sensation coursing through her. ‘There’s no bump.’
‘I think I’ll live,’ she managed to choke out, desperately attempting to sound flippant.
His big scarred hands moved from her scalp to cradle her face. He tilted her head so she was forced to look up into his eyes. For a long moment he searched her face.
‘I don’t want to hurt you, Sandy,’ he said, his voice hoarse.
She knew he wasn’t talking about the collision. ‘I realise that, Ben,’ she whispered.
Then, with her eyes drowning in his, he kissed her.
She was so surprised she stood stock-still for a moment. Then she relaxed into the sensation of Ben’s mouth on hers. It felt like coming home.
* * *
When Ben had lifted his head from the wave and had seen Sandy standing on the beach, it had been as if the past and the present had coalesced into one shining moment. A joy so unexpected it was painful had flooded his heart.
And here he was, against all resolutions, kissing her.
Her lips were warm and pliant beneath his. Her breasts were pressed to his chest. Her eyes, startled at first, were filled with an expression of bliss.
He shouldn’t be kissing her. Starting things he could not finish. Risking pain for both of them. But those thoughts were lost in the wonder of having her close to him again.
It was as if the twelve years between kisses had never happened.
He twined his hands in her shiny vanilla-scented hair, tilted her head back as he deepened the kiss, pushed against her lips with his tongue. Her mouth parted to welcome him, to meet the tip of his tongue with hers.
She made a small murmur of appreciation and wound her arms around his neck. His arms slid to her waist, to the smooth, warm skin where her top stopped, drawing her close. He could feel her heart thudding against his chest.
He wanted her. She could surely feel his arousal. But this wasn’t just about sex. It had always been so much more than that with Sandy.
The world shrank to just him and her, and the surf was a muted pounding that echoed the pulsing of their hearts, the blood running hot through his veins.
He could feel her nipples hard against him. Sensed the shiver of pleasure that vibrated through her. He pulled her tighter, wanting her as close to him as she could be.
But then something landed near his foot, accompanied by a piteous whining. Hobo. The driftwood. Damn!
He ignored it. Sand was dug in a flurry around them, stinging his legs. The whining turned to sharp, demanding barks.
Inwardly he cursed. Willed Hobo to go away. But the dog just kept on digging and barking. Ben broke away from the first time he’d kissed Sandy in twelve years for long enough to mutter, ‘Get lost, boy.’
But when he quickly reclaimed Sandy’s lips she was trembling. Not with passion but repressed laughter. ‘He’s not going to go away, you know,’ she murmured against his mouth.
Ben groaned. He swore. He leaned down, grabbed the driftwood and threw it as far away as he could—so hard he nearly wrenched his shoulder.
Now Sandy was bent over with laughter. ‘He wasn’t going to let up, was he?’
Ben cursed his dog again.
‘I know you don’t really mean that,’ she said, with a mischievous tilt to her mouth. ‘Poor Hobo.’
‘Back to the shelter for him,’ Ben growled.
‘As if,’ said Sandy.
She looked up to him, her eyes still dancing with laughter. She looked as though she’d been thoroughly kissed. He didn’t shave until after his morning surf and her chin was all pink from his beard. He felt a surge of possessiveness so fierce it was primal.
‘That...that was nice, Ben.’
Nice? He struggled for a word to sum up what it had meant to him. When he didn’t reply straight away, the soft, satisfied light of a woman who knew she was desired seemed to dim in her eyes.
‘More than nice,’ he said, and her eyes lit up again.
He reached out to smooth that wayward lock of hair from her eyes. She caught his hand with hers and dropped a quick kiss on it before she let it go.
‘Why did you kiss me, Ben, when with every second breath you’re telling me go away?’
Did he know the answer himself? ‘Because I—’
He couldn’t find the words to say, Because you’re Sandy, and you’re beautiful, and I still can’t believe you’ve come back to me, but I’m afraid to let you in because I don’t want to love you and then lose you again.
Her eyes were huge in her flushed face. She’d got damp from hugging him while he was still wet from the surf. Her tank top clung to her curves, her nipples standing erect through the layers of fabric.
She ran the edge of her pink pointy tongue along her lips to moisten her mouth. He watched, fascinated, aching to kiss her again.
A tremor edged her voice. ‘It’s still there, isn’t it, Ben? That attraction. That feeling there isn’t anyone else in this world at this moment but you and me. It was like that from the start and it hasn’t changed.’ She took a deep gulp of air. ‘If only...’
He clenched his fists so hard his scars ached. ‘I told you—no if-onlys. That—the kiss—it shouldn’t have happened.’
‘Why not?’ Her eyes were still huge. ‘We’re both free. Grown-up now and able to choose what we want from our lives, choose who we want to be with.’
Choose to leave when we want to.
Even after that one brief kiss he could feel what it would be like, having found her, to lose her again. He’d managed fine these past years on his own. He couldn’t endure the pain of loss again.
She looked very serious, her brow creased. ‘That time we had together all those years ago was so special. I don’t know about you, but I was too young to appreciate just how special. I never again felt that certainty, that rightness. Maybe this unexpected time together is a gift. For us to get to know each other again. Or...or...maybe we have to try it again so that we can let it go. Have you thought of that?’
He shook his head. ‘It’s not that easy, Sandy.’
‘Of course it isn’t easy. It isn’t easy for me either. I’m not in a rush to get my heart broken again.’
He noticed again the shadows under her eyes. Remembered her ex had got married yesterday. Typically, she wasn’t letting on about her pain. But it was there.
‘I can see that,’ he said.
He was glad the beach was practically deserted, with just a few people walking along the hard, damp sand at the edge of the waves, others still in the surf. Hobo romped with another dog in the shallows.
Her voice was low and intense. ‘Maybe if we gave it a go we’d...we’d burn it out.’
‘You think so?’ He couldn’t keep the cynicism from his voice.
She threw up her hands. ‘Who knows? After all this time we don’t really know what the other is like now. Grown-up Sandy. Grown-up Ben. We might hate each other.’
‘I can’t see that happening.’ Hate Sandy? No way. Never.
She scuffed the sand with her bare toes, not meeting his eyes. ‘How do you know? I like to put a positive spin on things when I can. But, fact is, I haven’t had a lot of luck with men. When I started dating—after I gave up on us seeing each other again—it seemed to me there were two types of men: nice ones, like you, who would ultimately betray me—’
He growled his protest.
She looked back up at him. ‘I know now it was a misunderstanding between us, but I didn’t know that then. If anyone betrayed me it was my father. By lying to me about you. By cheating on our family.’
He didn’t disagree. ‘And the second type of man?’
‘Forceful, controlling guys—’
‘Like your father?’
She nodded. ‘They’d convince me they knew what was best for me. I’d be in too deep before I realised they had anything but my interests at heart. But obviously I must have been at fault, too, when things went wrong.’
‘You’re too hard on yourself.’ He hated to see the tight expression on her face.
Her mouth twisted into an excuse of a smile. ‘Am I? Even little things about a person can get annoying. Jason used to hate that I never replaced the empty toilet roll. It was only because the fancy holder he installed ruined my nails when I tried, but—’
Ben couldn’t believe what he was hearing. ‘What kind of a loser was this guy?’
‘He wasn’t a loser. He was smart. Clever. It seemed I could be myself with him. I thought at last I’d found Mr Perfect. But that was one of the reasons he gave for falling out of love with me.’ She bit down hard on her lower lip. ‘And he said I was noisy and a show-off.’
Ben was so astounded he couldn’t find an appropriate response.
Her eyes flickered to his face and then away. ‘When I first knew him he said I lit up a room just by coming into it. Effervescent was the word he used. By the end he said I embarrassed him with my loud behaviour.’
Her voice was forcedly cheerful but there was a catch to it that tore at Ben.
‘But you don’t want to hear about that.’
Anger against this unknown man who had hurt Sandy fuelled him. ‘You’re damn right I don’t. It’s crap. That jerk was just saying that to make himself feel better about betraying you.’
She pulled a self-deprecating face. ‘I tell myself that too. It made me self-conscious around people for a while—you know...the noisy show-off thing. I couldn’t help wondering if people were willing me to shut up but were too polite to say so. But...but I’ve put it behind me.’
With his index finger he tilted her face upwards. ‘Sandy. Look at me. I would never, ever think you were an embarrassing show-off. I never have and I never will. Okay? You’re friendly and warm and you put people at ease. That’s a gift.’
‘Nice of you to say so. Kind words are always welcome.’ Her voice made light of what she said.
‘And I would never give a damn about a toilet roll.’
Her mouth twitched. ‘It sounds so dumb when you say it out loud. A toilet roll.’ The twitch led to a smile and then to full-blown giggles. ‘What a stupid thing for a relationship to founder over.’
‘And what a moron he was to let it.’
Ben found himself laughing with her. It felt good. Again, like oil on those rusty, seized emotions he had thought would never be kick-started into life again.
‘I was just using the toilet roll as an example of how little things about a person can get annoying to someone else,’ she said. Her laughter died away. ‘After a few days of my company you might be glad to see the end of me.’
‘And vice-versa?’ The way he’d cut himself off from relationships, she was more likely to get the worst end of the bargain. He was out of the habit of being a boyfriend.
She nodded. ‘Then we could both move on, free of...free of this thing that won’t let go of us. With...with the past washed clean.’
‘Maybe,’ he conceded.
She wanted to rekindle old embers to see if they burned again or fizzled away into lifeless ash. But what if they raged away like a bush fire out of control and he was the one left scorched and lifeless? Again.
She took hold of his arm. Her voice was underscored with urgency. ‘Ben, we should grab this second chance. Otherwise we might regret it for the rest of our lives. Like I regret that I didn’t trust in what we had. I should have come back to you to Dolphin Bay. I was eighteen years old, for heaven’s sake, not eight. What could my parents have done about it?’
‘I came looking for you in Sydney.’ He hadn’t meant to let that out. Had never intended to tell her.
Her brows rose. ‘When?’
‘A few months after you left.’
‘I didn’t know.’
‘You wouldn’t. My mates were playing football at Chatswood, on the north shore. I had my dad’s car to drive down with them.’ He’d been up from university for the Easter break. ‘After the game I found your place.’
‘The house in Killara?’
He nodded. It had been a big house in a posh northern suburb, designed to show off her father’s social status. ‘I parked outside, hoping I’d see you. Not sure what I’d do if I did.’
‘Why didn’t you come in?’
‘I was nineteen. You hadn’t written. Or phoned. For all I knew you’d forgotten all about me. And I knew your father wouldn’t welcome me.’
‘Was I there? I can’t believe while you were outside I might have been in my room. Probably sobbing into my diary about how much I was missing you.’
‘Your hat was hanging on the veranda. I could see it from outside. That funny, stripy bucket hat you used to wear.’
She screwed up her face. ‘I remember... I lost that hat.’
‘No, you didn’t. I took it. I jumped over the fence and snatched it.’
Her eyes widened. ‘You’re kidding me? My old hat? Do...do you still have it?’
‘Once I was back in the car my mates grabbed it from me. When we crossed the Sydney Harbour Bridge they threw it out of the window.’
‘Hey! That hat cost a whole lot of hard-earned babysitting money.’
She pretended outrage, but he could tell she was shaken by his story.
‘I didn’t steal it to see it squashed by a truck. I wanted to punch my mates out. But they told me to stop bothering with a girl who didn’t want me when there were plenty who did.’
Sandy didn’t say anything for a moment. Then she sighed. ‘Oh, Ben, if only...’ She shook her head. ‘I won’t say it. You’re right. No point.’
‘That’s when I gave up on you.’
He’d said enough. He could never admit that for years afterwards when he’d driven over that spot on the bridge he’d looked out for her hat.
‘And there were other girls?’ She put her hand up in her halt sign. ‘No. Don’t tell me about them. I couldn’t bear it.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘I used to imagine all those blonde surfer chicks. Glad the city interloper was gone. Able to have their surf god all to themselves again.’
He stared at her incredulously. ‘Did you just call me a surf god?’
Colour stained her cheeks. ‘Hey, I’m in advertising. I get creative with copy.’ But when she looked up at him her eyes were huge and sincere. ‘I adored you, Ben. You must know that.’ Her voice caught in her throat.
Ben shifted from foot to foot in the sand. ‘I... Uh... Same here.’ He’d planned his life around her.
‘Let’s spend these four days together,’ she urged. ‘Forget all that’s happened to us since we last saw each other. Just go back to how we were. Sandy and Ben. Teenagers again. Carefree. Enjoying each other’s company. Recapturing what we had.’
‘You mean a fling?’
‘A four-day fling? No strings? Why not? I’m prepared to risk it if you are.’
Risk. Was he ready to risk the safe life he’d so carefully constructed around himself in Dolphin Bay? He’d done so well in business by taking risks. But taking this risk—even for four days—could have far greater complications than monetary loss.
‘Sandy. I hear what you’re saying. But I need time.’
‘Ben, we don’t have time. We—’
Hobo skidded at their feet, the driftwood in his mouth, wet and eager and demanding attention.
Sandy glared at the animal. ‘You have a great sense of timing, dog.’
‘Yeah, he’s known for it.’ Ben reached down for the driftwood and tossed it just a short distance away. ‘I’ve got to get him back. Dogs are only allowed unleashed on the beach before seven a.m.’
‘And you can’t be seen to be breaking the rules, can you?’
Was she taunting him?
No. The expression in her eyes was wistful, and he realised how she’d put herself on the line for him. For them. Or the possibility of them.
He turned to her. ‘I’ll consider what you said, Sandy.’
Her tone was again forcedly cheerful. ‘Okay, Mr President.’
He grinned. ‘I prefer surf god.’
‘I’m going to regret telling you I called you that, aren’t I? Okay, surf god. But don’t take too long. These four days will be gone before we know it and then I’m out of here. Let’s not waste them.’ She turned to face the water. ‘Are the mantas still in residence?’
‘Yes. More likely their descendants, still scaring the hell out of tourists.’
He remembered how she’d started off being terrified of the big black rays. But by the end of that summer she’d been snorkelling around them. She had overcome her fears. Could he be as brave?
She reached up and hugged him. Briefly, he held her bare warmth to him before she pushed him away.
‘Go,’ she said, her voice not quite steady. ‘Me? I’m having my first swim at Big Ray Beach for twelve years. I can’t wait to get into the surf.’
With unconscious grace she pulled off her skimpy tank top, giving him the full impact of her body in a brief yellow bikini. Her breasts were definitely bigger than they’d been when she was eighteen.
Was he insane not to pull her back into his arms? To kiss her again? To laugh with her again? To have her as part of his life again?
For four days.
She headed for the water, treating him to a tantalising view of her sexy, shapely bottom. ‘Come see me when you’ve done your thinking,’ she called over her shoulder, before running into the surf.
She squealed as the cold hit her. Water sprayed up over her slim brown legs and the early sunlight shattered into a million glistening crystals. More fairy dust.
He looked at the tracks her feet had made in the sand. After the fire he had felt as if he’d been broken down to nothing—like rock into sand. Slowly, painfully, he had put himself back together. But there were cracks, places deep inside him, that still crumbled at the slightest touch.
If he let it, could Sandy’s magic help give him the strength to become not the man he had been but someone better, finer, forged by the tragedy he had endured? Or would she break him right back down to nothing?
