Dating The Millionaire Doctor(13)

Home.

If she could turn back time …

If only she hadn't trusted.

She picked her way across the rubble to the chimney stack. The fireplace  was almost intact. A few bricks at the corner had fallen when a roof  beam had dropped across the mantel-that's how Rusty had lost his leg.

She placed her fingers on the ledge above the fire cavity. There'd been a  wooden mantel resting here, and on it an ancient clock that never kept  time, pictures of her parents on their wedding day, pictures of Tori and  Micki as kids, her graduation photo, Micki at some glamorous,  want-to-be-model shoot.

This hearth had been the heart of their home, and in the end this small  fireplace had succeeded in saving one little dog. One small thread to  connect her past to her future.         

     



 

At least Micki and her father had thought she was coming, she thought  bleakly, letting herself think back as she so seldom allowed herself to  do. That was the only thing that kept her sane-that last, frantic call  from Micki.

'Tori, the fire's on this side of the ridge.'

'I've rung emergency services,' she'd said, as she pushed her van past  the speed limit, heading into smoke so thick she knew she'd have trouble  getting through. 'The fire trucks are on their way. I'm on my way. Stay  cool.'

Stay cool. It had been their farewell line for ever, between two sisters and taken up as a joke by their father.

She'd said it then, with love; her sister had laughed, and she knew her  father and Micki had died knowing she was moving heaven and earth to get  to them.

And suddenly it was okay. Their ghosts were here now. She could feel  them, a soft and gentle presence. It was right to come tonight, she  thought.

She'd loved her family more than life itself, and they were still with  her, in this place. Rusty was by her side, pressing against her, a link  to them. She knelt and fondled him.

'We can go on,' she whispered. 'I can't forgive Toby, but maybe … maybe I  can forgive myself for trusting him. Dad and Micki trusted him, too.  They wouldn't want me to beat myself up forever.'

Jake was waiting. Life was waiting. The night was still and warm, and the moon's gentle beams were almost a blessing.

It was time to go.

She straightened and turned. Jake was at the edge of the clearing, watching gravely from the shadows.

'I'm all right,' she said, managing a smile. 'I'm not about to wail or rend my garments.'

'I'm pleased to hear it.'

'Thank you for coming.'

'It was my honour,' he said gravely, and it was so much the right thing  to say that she caught her breath. She picked her way back over the  ruins but he met her halfway, catching her hands as she stumbled and  helping her the last few steps.

'Okay?' he asked softly, and she managed a smile and a sniff, and if she left her hand in his, then who could blame her?

'It was so lovely here,' she whispered. 'I can't tell you. My mum and dad, my sister, our friends, our dogs, chooks … '

'Chooks?'

'Hens. All sorts. My dad bred Rhode Island Reds. They spent their lives  clucking around the orchard. Can I show you the orchard?'

She didn't wait for an answer, but led him around the pile of rubble to a  stand of small trees behind the house site. The fruit trees stood out  from the trees he'd been seeing over and over up here on the ridge, for  they weren't burned. They were a mass of blossom in the moonlight, on a  bed of deep, green grass.

'The orchard's deciduous,' she said simply. 'Not native. They were so  green in the summer that they didn't burn. The grass under them was dry  and it burned but the trees themselves didn't catch. So now we have  cherry blossom, and apple blossom, and peach. Micki and I had a big log  swing hanging on the peach. One day I'll hang that swing again.' Her  voice faltered. 'I hope.'

'You'd want to live here again?'

'It's my community,' she said simply. 'My home. Rusty thinks so, too.'

But Rusty wasn't looking around him. He was pressed against Jake's leg. He was forming a new allegiance, Tori thought.

Confused, she pulled away a little, and walked further into the orchard.  A low-hanging cherry branch brushed her hair and blossoms drifted  around her. She put her fingers out and caught them, and suddenly she  found herself smiling. Rusty had limped over to the base of the oldest  tree-the peach. The grass here was thickest. He wriggled down, burrowing  his nose in the long grass, and gave a sigh of pure contentment.

It felt good. More, it felt great. For the first time in six months she  felt free. The ghosts of her family were all around her, a gentle,  loving presence that would do nothing to hold her back.

And Jake was here. Suddenly it seemed right that he was.

'You're beautiful,' Jake said softly, wonderingly, and she smiled at him  and shook the branch a little, letting loose another cascade.

'Beautiful's how I feel right now,' she said simply. 'Thank you.'

'There's nothing to thank me for.' He stepped closer and plucked blossom  from her hair. 'You're facing your demons all by yourself.'

'No,' she said gravely. 'How can I? Don't you know that all by yourself  is a really bad idea. I sense you're a loner, Jake Hunter, but  loneliness isn't for now. Not for tonight.'         

     



 

And then, because she didn't know why-the night, the warmth, the smell  of blossom, the sight of Rusty wriggling contentedly in the grass that  was once his favourite place, the feel of this man's hand brushing her  cheek as he lifted blossoms away-for some a reason she would never  understand, she stood on her tiptoes and she kissed him.



Loneliness isn't for now …

For Jake, too, this day had been huge. He'd come to this country to put  his property on the market and depart, cutting the links to a father he  held in dislike, even contempt.

But things had changed. His view of the past, taught to him by a bitter  woman, had been challenged by an unbiased witness and had been found  wanting.

There were emotions in his head that matched Tori's, and now Tori's  tragedy was layered on top of his. He couldn't figure out what he was  feeling.

But he didn't have to figure it out. Tori was doing it for him. Her  mouth was on his, her body was pressed against him, and all he could  feel was her sweetness, her gentleness, the beauty of this night.

He wanted her.

And as if she'd read his thoughts …

'I want you,' she whispered.

His hands tightened involuntarily on her waist and he was pulling her  against him with a hold that was entirely proprietary, entirely sure of  what he wanted. Tori.

Quite simply she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever met. She was in  battered jeans and trainers, an ancient windcheater; her curls were all  over the place, her eyes were huge in her too pale face.

She was gorgeous and he wanted her.

This was some sort of magnetic attraction he'd never met before, some  primitive link, some compulsion he didn't fully understand.

Who was he kidding? He did understand it. He wanted her, as simple as  that. Something tonight had pulled him to her in a way he didn't  understand, but he wasn't questioning it. It was the way her hands held  his, the way she looked up at him in the moonlight, the way she tugged  him closer, closer, so he could no longer see her face, so all he could  do was feel the beating of her heart.

They both knew where this was going. They both knew how right this moment was. But …

'I don't have a condom on me,' he said, in a voice so hoarse he hardly recognised it. 'We can't-'

'I'm protected from pregnancy,' she managed, breathless. 'So … unless  we're talking multiple partners, we're okay. Toby and I … we tested.'

'I'm safe,' he growled, but sense prevailed enough for him to haul away  from her long enough to rake his fingers through his hair. Knowing he  should put her away from him. Knowing he must. 'Tori, you don't know me.  You shouldn't trust me. You shouldn't want to.'

'I know. It's crazy, stupid, risky, crazy … '

'You already said crazy.'

'That means it's double crazy.'

'So we stop? We go sensibly back to the lodge?' He said it trying to  keep his voice flat, inflexionless, as though she ought to agree to the  sensible option. He was giving her the sensible option.

But who wanted to be sensible? Not Tori.

Sensible was for tomorrow.

She took a deep breath, her eyes not leaving his. She tugged her ancient  windcheater up and over her head and she tossed it aside.

Her figure was perfect-and more.

Her bra was beautiful, made of exquisite lace, so white it was almost  luminous in the moonlight. Her breasts were framed by the sweetly  curving lace; they were soft mounds of perfection and they took his  breath away. All of her took his breath away.

She'd kicked off her shoes. Now she pushed the zip and stepped out of  her jeans as if it was the most natural movement in the world.

Her panties matched her bra.

He'd forgotten how to breathe.

'Not all the welfare bins held hand-me-downs,' she said, totally  unselfconscious, grinning at the look on his face. 'A gorgeous Swiss  lingerie company sent a care box. You like?'

Did he like? He was speechless. She was standing barefoot on the grass  under the blossom tree, smiling up at him, all imp, in the most  beautiful lingerie he'd ever seen. In the most beautiful body he'd ever  seen. The contrast to the woman he'd met-how many hours ago?-was  stunning.