The Billionaire Boss's Innocent Bride(15)

yes, I understand perfectly. I'm sorry-' a smile appeared fleetingly in   his eyes '-I didn't realize I was making you feel like that. Actually,   going back to what led up to this, one thing I really like to do to   relax is fish. I even have a favourite spot that I go up to a couple of   times a year. Seisia, but not many people have heard of it.'

Alex, who had listened to his apology and deliberate change of subject   with an inward sigh of relief, sat up alertly. 'The port of Bamaga? On   Cape York?'

'The same,' he agreed with a quizzical look. 'You know it?'

She nodded. 'I spent a holiday there with my parents. My father was   also-talk about a mad, keen golfer, he was a fanatical fisherman. Oh! I   loved it. We drove up in a four-wheel drive we'd hired and we camped at   the holiday park, then we went back to Cairns on a cargo ship, the   Trinity Bay.'

'I know it well.'

'But … ' She looked puzzled, for there was little at Seisia she could   associate Max Goodwin with, unless … 'Oh, I get it. You probably hire one   of those extremely expensive fishing boats that go out into the Gulf of   Carpentaria from Seisia for weeks at a time. Or do you own your own?'

'I deny that charge. But, yes, I hire one, although I usually only manage a week at the most. How did you fish?'

Alex smiled. 'Off the jetty-it's supposed to be the best fishing jetty in Australia-

and the beach. And we took a dinghy trip up the Jardine River. It was so   beautiful and so remote.' She closed her eyes. 'I'll never forget the   colours of twilight.'

'Blue on blue?'

Her lashes fluttered up. 'Yes. Violet, wisteria, slate-blue. So beautiful!'                       
       
           



       

There was a discreet cough behind them and Alex had no idea that a man   had been standing there for about a minute with his eyes fixed on her   glowing expression directed at Max Goodwin-Paul O'Hara.

Then they both turned and he came forward. 'Hi, Max! Mrs Mills let me in and told me I'd find you out here. Hello, Miss Hill!'

'Paul,' Max said pleasantly, 'come and join us. What are you doing down here?'

Paul pulled out a chair and sat down. 'I booked into the Hyatt at   Sanctuary Cove for the night rather than driving down tomorrow morning   for the golf. So I thought I'd toddle over and fill you in on the   afternoon's proceedings. I didn't expect to-' He stopped.

'Expect to find Alex here? She's taken on another job for me,' Max said unexpansively. 'How did it go?'

Alex pushed herself upright. 'If you'll excuse me I'll leave you to it,' she said.

'You don't have to go on my account, Miss Hill,' Paul O'Hara said   eagerly, and didn't see the sudden, narrowed glance his cousin cast him.

For a moment Alex was subject to a lunatic urge to tell him that she   thought he was probably very nice and in any other circumstances she'd   like to know him better. All she said, however, was, 'Thanks, but I've   got a good book calling to me. Goodnight.' And she walked away.

Nicky was fast asleep with a night light on and with Nemo snuggled up   beside him. Alex grimaced. Somehow Nicky was going to have to learn to   be parted from the dog but how, she didn't know.

And she wandered over to a painting that hung on the wall, a small but   vibrant canvas of a seashore with two black oyster catchers with their   red beaks in the foreground. It was signed in one corner-Cathy Spencer.

When she'd first noticed it she'd asked Mrs Mills about it.

'Oh, I rescued it from a cupboard,' Mrs Mills had told her. 'I remember   when she gave it to Mr Goodwin-she told him not to part with it because   one day it would be worth a lot of money. He laughed and promised.'  Mrs  Mills had broken off with a sigh. 'They were lovely together then.   Perhaps I only saw the good side of them, but I can't help hoping,  well,  especially now with Nicky, they could come together again. I  think they  should. Anyway, I thought Nicky might like to have something  of his mum  with him.'

Alex came back to the present and turned from the painting to the   sleeping boy. Although he was so like Max, she did sometimes see his   mother in him, and it tore at her heartstrings suddenly to think of him   being shuttled backwards and forwards between his father and mother.

They should put aside their differences, she thought, and brushed away a solitary tear. They really should.

She showered and changed into her pyjamas and climbed into bed with her   book, only to find it not nearly as gripping as she'd hoped although  she  persevered, rather grimly, until she felt sleepy. Then she switched  off  the bedside lamp, and was immediately wide awake but, not only  that, in  the grip of some sad memories. And she realized it was the  memories of  Seisia.

No, don't go down that road, she warned herself. Think of the here and now …

But the house was quiet and there was nothing to distract her. She   jumped out of bed as it got harder to breathe. Action or exercise was   what she needed-Can't lie down and let it trap me, she thought   chaotically.

She grabbed her glasses, slipped out of her bedroom and ran lightly   downstairs to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. But she couldn't find   the light and what she really needed was a paper bag to breathe into,   but she had no idea where to find that; she could only stand in the   middle of the floor, flapping her arms as she fought to breathe.

The central light flicked on revealing the state-of-the-art kitchen in   all its glory: black marble counters and floor, cream cabinets,   stainless steel appliances-and Max stood there, still fully dressed.

'Alex?' he said incredulously. 'What's wrong?'

'Can't breathe,' she panted. 'Can't-a paper-need a paper bag,' she gasped.

'Asthma?' he queried as he strode forward.

'No. P-panic.'

'A panic attack? What-? Never mind.' He gathered her into his arms.   'Shush-no one is going to hurt you, I promise. Calm down-no-' he   resisted as she fought to free herself '-do as I say, Alex. Relax. You   can do it.'

'A b-bag,' she stammered.

'I have no idea where they are, if there are any.'

Her chest rose and fell erratically as she tried to fill her lungs with   air, but he started to massage her back and, gradually, her breathing   steadied as she felt the warmth and the safe haven of his arms, and   after some minutes it slowed to normal. She closed her eyes in sheer   relief, and when she opened them it was to see Max Goodwin watching her   with a mixture of relief himself, and amazement.                       
       
           



       

'All right?'

She nodded but sagged a little against him. 'Thanks,' she whispered. He   picked her up. 'I think we both need a brandy.' And he carried her   through to the den.

'What brought that on?'

The den was definitely a masculine room with mocha walls, fishing   trophies, a wall of books and an impressive entertainment centre.

Alex sighed and studied her balloon glass, then took another grateful sip.

'Remembering Seisia,' she said a little raggedly. 'It was the last   holiday I had with my parents. They died a couple of weeks later.'

He stirred. 'And you still get panic attacks about-about losing them?'

'Yes. But I haven't had one for ages,' she confessed.

'I've never met anyone who knew Seisia, so that must have triggered it.'

'Hmm … ' He stood lost in thought for a moment, but didn't share them with   her. He sat down beside her instead and laced his fingers through  hers.  'Do you have any friends, Alex?'

'Of course,' she assured him. 'I went skiing with six of them not so   long ago-mind you, that does seem a long time ago now!' she marvelled.   'And there's my neighbour. She's a widow and a lot older than me, but we   get along really well together. We've even thought about getting a   joint dog.'

He looked askance. 'A joint dog?'

Alex grinned. 'A dog to share between us. She loves them, I love them;   she doesn't work during the day, but I do, so it seems like a good idea,   but we've never got around to it. So-' she sobered '-look, don't worry   about me-'

'How can I not worry about you?' he said a shade irritably. 'I've never   seen anyone have a panic attack. It's-it's bloody scary. And what has a   paper bag got to do with it?'

She explained that when you hyperventilated as she had been, you were   actually taking in too much oxygen rather than too little, and you   became short of carbon dioxide, which made you feel short of air. If you   breathed into a paper bag, you breathed in your own carbon dioxide,   which helped.

'You live and learn,' Max Goodwin commented. 'But I would have thought, if anything would do it, it would be a fright.'