with a rueful nod. ‘Her first day in the job and the moment I walked in and saw the sexy minx sitting on her little swivel chair, I was toast. I just can’t have that story getting around business circles, you understand.’
The men agreed unreservedly as Maureen blushed, her eyes a little glassy as she reached across and gave Eric’s hand a squeeze. ‘You’re an old softie from way back, Eric Culshaw, and you know it.’ She dabbed at her eyes with a lace handkerchief, and Eve, thinking she must look like she was shackled to Leo, shifted away, brushing his hand from her leg as she reached for her champagne. He must have got the message, because he didn’t press the issue, simply reached for his own drink, and part of her wondered whether he thought he’d done enough.
Part of her hoped he did.
The other part already missed his touch.
‘Felicity, how about you?’ she said, trying to forget about that other wayward part of her. ‘How did you and Richard meet?’
‘Well…’ The woman smiled and popped her glass on the table, slipping her hand into her husband’s. ‘This might sound familiar, but I’d been out with a friend, watching the sailing on Sydney Harbour. It had been a long day, so we stopped off to have a drink in a little pub on the way home, and the next thing I know, this nice fellow came up and asked if he could buy us both a drink.’ She turned to him and smiled and he leanedover and kissed her delicately on the tip of her nose. ‘And the rest, as they say, is history.’
‘That’s just like Princess Mary and Prince Frederik of Denmark,’ said Maureen. ‘Don’t you remember, everyone?’ Eve did, but she never had a chance to say anything because Leo chose that precise moment to run his finger along the back of her neck, a feather-light touch that came with depth charges that detonated deep down inside her as his fingertips drew tiny circles on her back.
‘It wasn’t the same hotel, was it?’ Maureen continued.
‘No. But it’s just as special to us. We go every year on the anniversary of that first meeting.’
‘How special,’ said Maureen. ‘Oh, I do love Sydney and the harbour. I have to say, the warmer weather suits me better than Melbourne’s, too.’
And Eve, lulled by the gentle touch of a master’s hand, and thinking of her never-ending quest to get the washing dried and not looking forward to cold showers and boiling kettles so Sam could have a warm bath, couldn’t help but agree. ‘Sydney’s wonderful. I used to work there. I spent so many weekends at the beach.’
The fingers at her neck stilled, a memory flickering like the frames of an old black and white movie in the recesses of his mind. Something about Sydney and a woman he’d met years ago so briefly—too briefly—
a woman called Eve
.
CHAPTER FIVE
W HAT was it Maureen had said?
‘Most people would shorten it to Eve.’
And she’d said something like,
‘Either is fine.’
The exchange had niggled at some part of him when he’d heard it, although he hadn’t fully understood why at the time, but then the mention of Sydney had provided the missing link, and suddenly he’d realised that there could be no coincidence—that bit had provided the missing piece and the jigsaw had fitted together.
He thought back to a day that seemed so long ago, of flying into Sydney in the early morning, recalling memories of a whirlwind visit to rescue a deal threatening to go pear-shaped, and of a glass-walled office that had looked over Sydney Harbour and boasted plum views of both the Harbour Bridge and the Opera House. But the view had faded to insignificance when his eyes had happened upon the woman sitting in the opposite corner of the room. Her hair had been streaked with blonde and her skin had had a golden tan, like both had been kissed by the sun, and her amazing eyes had looked deeper and more inviting than any famous harbour.
And endless meetings and time differences and jetlag had all combined to
The men agreed unreservedly as Maureen blushed, her eyes a little glassy as she reached across and gave Eric’s hand a squeeze. ‘You’re an old softie from way back, Eric Culshaw, and you know it.’ She dabbed at her eyes with a lace handkerchief, and Eve, thinking she must look like she was shackled to Leo, shifted away, brushing his hand from her leg as she reached for her champagne. He must have got the message, because he didn’t press the issue, simply reached for his own drink, and part of her wondered whether he thought he’d done enough.
Part of her hoped he did.
The other part already missed his touch.
‘Felicity, how about you?’ she said, trying to forget about that other wayward part of her. ‘How did you and Richard meet?’
‘Well…’ The woman smiled and popped her glass on the table, slipping her hand into her husband’s. ‘This might sound familiar, but I’d been out with a friend, watching the sailing on Sydney Harbour. It had been a long day, so we stopped off to have a drink in a little pub on the way home, and the next thing I know, this nice fellow came up and asked if he could buy us both a drink.’ She turned to him and smiled and he leanedover and kissed her delicately on the tip of her nose. ‘And the rest, as they say, is history.’
‘That’s just like Princess Mary and Prince Frederik of Denmark,’ said Maureen. ‘Don’t you remember, everyone?’ Eve did, but she never had a chance to say anything because Leo chose that precise moment to run his finger along the back of her neck, a feather-light touch that came with depth charges that detonated deep down inside her as his fingertips drew tiny circles on her back.
‘It wasn’t the same hotel, was it?’ Maureen continued.
‘No. But it’s just as special to us. We go every year on the anniversary of that first meeting.’
‘How special,’ said Maureen. ‘Oh, I do love Sydney and the harbour. I have to say, the warmer weather suits me better than Melbourne’s, too.’
And Eve, lulled by the gentle touch of a master’s hand, and thinking of her never-ending quest to get the washing dried and not looking forward to cold showers and boiling kettles so Sam could have a warm bath, couldn’t help but agree. ‘Sydney’s wonderful. I used to work there. I spent so many weekends at the beach.’
The fingers at her neck stilled, a memory flickering like the frames of an old black and white movie in the recesses of his mind. Something about Sydney and a woman he’d met years ago so briefly—too briefly—
a woman called Eve
.
CHAPTER FIVE
W HAT was it Maureen had said?
‘Most people would shorten it to Eve.’
And she’d said something like,
‘Either is fine.’
The exchange had niggled at some part of him when he’d heard it, although he hadn’t fully understood why at the time, but then the mention of Sydney had provided the missing link, and suddenly he’d realised that there could be no coincidence—that bit had provided the missing piece and the jigsaw had fitted together.
He thought back to a day that seemed so long ago, of flying into Sydney in the early morning, recalling memories of a whirlwind visit to rescue a deal threatening to go pear-shaped, and of a glass-walled office that had looked over Sydney Harbour and boasted plum views of both the Harbour Bridge and the Opera House. But the view had faded to insignificance when his eyes had happened upon the woman sitting in the opposite corner of the room. Her hair had been streaked with blonde and her skin had had a golden tan, like both had been kissed by the sun, and her amazing eyes had looked deeper and more inviting than any famous harbour.
And endless meetings and time differences and jetlag had all combined to
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