‘Did you think we’d not trust you?’ Isabel had asked curiously when Harriet had suggested the scheme. ‘You come so highly recommended.’
‘It’s always better to be safe rather than sorry,’ Harriet had replied. ‘This way we’re both protected.’
And Arthur, who drove up from Ballina occasionally, agreed.
* * *
Three weeks after she’d arrived at Heathcote, it was a glorious summer’s day and she and Tottie went down to the beach. No one else was home. Charlie had gone back to his base and Isabel, who sat on several committees, was in Lismore helping to co-ordinate a charity drive and was spending the night with a friend.
They were the only ones on the beach, she and Tottie, and they frolicked in the surf and played with a ball until finally Harriet called out that she had to get back to work.
But something else had engaged the dog’s attention after she’d dropped the ball at Harriet’s feet. She stiffened, growled low in her throat and then took off like a shaggy arrow in full flight.
Harriet turned and discovered there was a man standing beside her towel where she’d dropped it on the grass verge above the beach—a man Tottie obviously knew because she skidded to a halt in front of him, barked with obvious joy this time, and leapt up to lay her paws on his shoulders—Damien Wyatt.
Harriet froze. Then she swallowed nervously as their last encounter and the last thing she’d said to him, the insult she’d offered him, stood out clearly in her mind.
Plus, even from further down the beach she could see he was wearing a suit, just as he had the day of the accident when he’d been so angry.
She hesitated and looked down at herself. Her lemon and lime flowered bikini was reasonably modest but it was still a bikini and she would have much rather been wearing a boilersuit or a combat uniform with all its paraphernalia for this encounter.
There was nothing for it, however, than to stroll up the beach, to say hi as casually as she could and to pick up her towel and wrap it around her. Perhaps then she could say something along the lines of You’re home early! or Welcome home! I have enjoyed Heathcote— Stop it! she commanded herself. Just do it...!
It was a nerve-racking trudge up the beach but, when she was halfway there, Tottie came prancing back to her with delight written into her movements and a smile on her doggy face.
In fact Harriet had to grin in spite of herself, so infectious was the dog’s enthusiasm.
‘Hello, Damien,’ she said as she reached him, almost confident that Tottie had eased the situation for her. She certainly didn’t trip or fall as she picked up her towel and wrapped it around her sarong-wise but then she glanced up at him and things changed.
He wore a grey suit with a white shirt and a dark blue tie but he’d loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. His hands were shoved into his trouser pockets.
And it struck Harriet like a blow to her heart that she’d fooled herself over the past weeks. Fooled herself into believing she’d completely rationalised the effect Damien had had on her.
More than that; she’d buried herself in his mother’s treasures and convinced herself she wasn’t even thinking of him. Only to know now that he’d been there on the back roads of her mind all the time; he must have been because every intimate detail of the passionate encounter they’d shared came back to her.