Kirri had gone through finally hit him. And so did a massive load of guilt that she had had to go through that trauma on her own.
'Did your family stand by you?'
Kirri nodded. 'Mum went over to the States to be with me in hospital, then flew home with me.' Her fingers clenched into fists as she recalled the long days and nights of pain and her mother's patient encouragement. The memories overwhelmed her and she shook her head to clear them away.
She looked up to see Daniel watching her, his face a mirror of the pain she was feeling. 'Daniel, I'm sorry, I have to go. I need time to think.'
He nodded, but his hands lifted as though to detain her. 'Let me help you, Kirri. We can work through this together.'
Together. For two years she had been alone. Long days and even longer nights with nothing but questions and a deep aching need to know . And now she did, she would have to face the consequences of that knowledge.
She shook her head. 'You're a stranger to me, Daniel. I ⦠I don't know you.'
Her words were a knife wound to Daniel's heart. The gulf that stretched between them seemed to widen. In desperation Daniel closed the physical gap and took her into his arms.
And kissed her.
Â
The colours in Kirri's brain spun gently to a halt as Daniel's lips left hers, but if his arms hadn't held her up she was sure she would have fallen to the floor.
'It can't be â¦' she gasped.
Daniel nodded in contradiction. 'Synaesthesia,' he said, 'You taste and smell in colours. You told me about it. How a small number of people have a mixed up sense of the world because their sight, hearing and sense of smell and taste are not processed separately by the brain.' His golden-brown eyes bore into hers, willing her to acknowledge what he said. 'You told me that some musical composers claim to be able to hear in colours or smell sounds.'
Then he confirmed what she was trying to deny to herself.
'And you also told me that you had always vowed you would marry a man who tasted like rainbows.'
CHAPTER SEVEN
Jenny looked again at the man gazing thoughtfully at one of Kirri's paintings. Jeans and casual shirt, not new, but top brand names, on a body that could have modelled them for a living. Probably in his late twenties, she guessed.
He moved a few more paces and peered at a watercolour, bending slightly to read the artist's signature. Then he turned and walked towards the counter where she was writing up the day's sales. As he approached, he smiled at her, a friendly smile with just the right amount of male interest to send her ego soaring without threatening her personal space.
'I thought at first there was just one artist with very diverse styles,' he said. Jenny sighed. The depth of his voice matched his dark eyes and black hair, and she thought all her dreams had materialised. 'Then I saw there are actually two artists.' The smile flashed again. 'I like to know something about the artists I consider buying. Do you have any background information on them?'
Nodding swiftly, Jenny took a brochure from a small pile near the tape dispenser. As she handed it across, his fingers touched hers. A brief touch, but with a hint of intimacy that sent her senses spinning.
'You'll find all the details in there. Are there any paintings you're particularly interested in?'
'There're all wonderful. But I always take a while to decide if I want to buy.' He glanced through the brochure, then back to her. 'Perhaps you'll still be here when I return?'
'Sure.' Jenny managed to keep her voice steady.
He began to walk away, then turned back as though he'd just remembered something. 'Didn't I see an ambulance outside here yesterday? Was somebody ill?'
'It was a hit and run. An American tourist had been in here looking at the paintings and when he walked across the street he was hit by a four wheel drive.'
'Was he badly injured?'
'No, Kirri, my boss, went to the hospital to check on him, but he only had bruises and concussion.'
'How lucky for
'Did your family stand by you?'
Kirri nodded. 'Mum went over to the States to be with me in hospital, then flew home with me.' Her fingers clenched into fists as she recalled the long days and nights of pain and her mother's patient encouragement. The memories overwhelmed her and she shook her head to clear them away.
She looked up to see Daniel watching her, his face a mirror of the pain she was feeling. 'Daniel, I'm sorry, I have to go. I need time to think.'
He nodded, but his hands lifted as though to detain her. 'Let me help you, Kirri. We can work through this together.'
Together. For two years she had been alone. Long days and even longer nights with nothing but questions and a deep aching need to know . And now she did, she would have to face the consequences of that knowledge.
She shook her head. 'You're a stranger to me, Daniel. I ⦠I don't know you.'
Her words were a knife wound to Daniel's heart. The gulf that stretched between them seemed to widen. In desperation Daniel closed the physical gap and took her into his arms.
And kissed her.
Â
The colours in Kirri's brain spun gently to a halt as Daniel's lips left hers, but if his arms hadn't held her up she was sure she would have fallen to the floor.
'It can't be â¦' she gasped.
Daniel nodded in contradiction. 'Synaesthesia,' he said, 'You taste and smell in colours. You told me about it. How a small number of people have a mixed up sense of the world because their sight, hearing and sense of smell and taste are not processed separately by the brain.' His golden-brown eyes bore into hers, willing her to acknowledge what he said. 'You told me that some musical composers claim to be able to hear in colours or smell sounds.'
Then he confirmed what she was trying to deny to herself.
'And you also told me that you had always vowed you would marry a man who tasted like rainbows.'
CHAPTER SEVEN
Jenny looked again at the man gazing thoughtfully at one of Kirri's paintings. Jeans and casual shirt, not new, but top brand names, on a body that could have modelled them for a living. Probably in his late twenties, she guessed.
He moved a few more paces and peered at a watercolour, bending slightly to read the artist's signature. Then he turned and walked towards the counter where she was writing up the day's sales. As he approached, he smiled at her, a friendly smile with just the right amount of male interest to send her ego soaring without threatening her personal space.
'I thought at first there was just one artist with very diverse styles,' he said. Jenny sighed. The depth of his voice matched his dark eyes and black hair, and she thought all her dreams had materialised. 'Then I saw there are actually two artists.' The smile flashed again. 'I like to know something about the artists I consider buying. Do you have any background information on them?'
Nodding swiftly, Jenny took a brochure from a small pile near the tape dispenser. As she handed it across, his fingers touched hers. A brief touch, but with a hint of intimacy that sent her senses spinning.
'You'll find all the details in there. Are there any paintings you're particularly interested in?'
'There're all wonderful. But I always take a while to decide if I want to buy.' He glanced through the brochure, then back to her. 'Perhaps you'll still be here when I return?'
'Sure.' Jenny managed to keep her voice steady.
He began to walk away, then turned back as though he'd just remembered something. 'Didn't I see an ambulance outside here yesterday? Was somebody ill?'
'It was a hit and run. An American tourist had been in here looking at the paintings and when he walked across the street he was hit by a four wheel drive.'
'Was he badly injured?'
'No, Kirri, my boss, went to the hospital to check on him, but he only had bruises and concussion.'
'How lucky for
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