So she took a couple of sips and felt the brandy slip down and a warm glow of—what was it? Some confidence?—rise in its place.
But, before she could formulate anything sensible to say, he spoke. ‘How well do you know Arthur?’
‘Hardly at all. I know Penny better. We were at college together for a while, although she’s a few years older. Then we lost track of each other until I came up to Ballina. It was quite an amazing coincidence. I literally bumped into her—no,’ she said with her lips quirking suddenly as his eyebrows flew up, ‘not the way I bumped into you. This was on the pavement as we were walking along.’
A gleam of amusement lit his eyes. ‘I’m relieved to hear you say so. Go on.’
She looked rueful. ‘So we had coffee and compared notes. She told me about Arthur and how they’d moved from Sydney to Ballina to get out of the rat race. She told me she’d started a picture-framing business and a small art gallery and how Arthur still dealt in art—he was born up here apparently.’
‘Yes. He was a friend of my father’s; more than that, he helped Dad establish his collection.’
‘So I told her I’d also decided to get away from the rat race and I was looking for a job. That’s when she grew thoughtful and finally dragged me off to meet Arthur.’
‘I see.’ Damien swirled the liquid in his glass. ‘So they didn’t know—’ he lifted his dark gaze to her ‘—about your brother?’
‘No.’ Harriet traced the rim of her glass with her forefinger then took another sip. ‘I know it seems a bit deceitful, but I find it hard to deal with people feeling sorry for us.’
He was silent for a time, then, ‘What were you doing up here two months ago, when you bumped into me?’
‘I was checking out this rehabilitation centre. It was the first time I’d been to this area—another reason I was a bit dithery, I guess; I didn’t know my way around.’
‘It’s not exactly a metropolis,’ he said wryly then gestured as if to delete the comment. ‘But you’re living up here now? Your brother’s in the rehab centre?’
Harriet nodded.
‘Where are you living?’
She hesitated then took a sip of the brandy and shrugged. ‘In a rented caravan in the caravan park. I do have a job—it’s waitressing, so it keeps the wolf from the door, but—’ She broke off.
‘Only just?’ he suggested.
She didn’t respond but stared a bit blindly down at her glass.
‘OK,’ he said quietly, ‘no more interrogations. The job is yours if you want it but what are we going to do?’
‘Do?’ she repeated.
He set his teeth. ‘Yes, do! About the rest of it?’
Her deep blue eyes widened. ‘The rest of it?’
He grimaced. ‘You must have a short memory span as well as being accident-prone. Or do you often go around kissing guys like that?’
The confidence she’d got from a few sips of brandy ebbed a little at the same time as her eyes widened as the full memory of their passionate encounter hit her.