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Authors: Barbara Hannay
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the hard way that women and his lifestyle didn’t mix. For the past few years, he’d worked hard at keeping his distance from women like Amy—intelligent, warm-hearted, home-and-hearth-loving women.
The marrying kind.
Even so, he knew it would only take the first taste of her tender mouth, the first touch of his lips to her soft, warm skin and he’d be craving more.
He drew in a sharp breath.
Don’t even think about it .
Why was it so hard to remember his past mistakes?
For pity’s sake, man, just answer the woman’s question .
He said, ‘My mother left after my father died.’
‘Left?’ Shock made Amy’s voice tremble. ‘Are you saying she left you ?’
Seth shrugged and forced a smile. ‘Ever since I can remember, she’d had her sights set on Hollywood, and without my father to hold her back she was free to go.’
‘But she wasn’t free, Seth. She had you.’ Amy stared at him, with a hand pressed to her throat. Her dark eyeswere clouded, as if he’d told her something completely beyond her comprehension. ‘You’d just lost your father. You were only twelve. Why couldn’t she keep you with her?’
It was a question that had eaten at Seth for years. Even now, he could feel the agonising slug of loss that had flattened him, when he’d finally understood what his mother’s choice had meant.
Her longing for fame and glamour had outweighed her sense of responsibility.
Bottom line, she hadn’t loved him enough.
Regretting that he’d started this line of talk, he sent Amy another shrugging smile. ‘I was better off up here with my uncle.’
‘I can’t believe that.’
‘I didn’t believe it at first, but with the benefit of hindsight I know it was best.’
Amy looked as if she couldn’t possibly agree.
‘Think about it,’ Seth told her. ‘What twelve-year-old boy would choose to live in a low-rent flat in a huge metropolis like Los Angeles, when he could be here, learning to ride horses, to raise cattle, to fish and to skin-dive, to explore deserted islands, and to paddle a kayak?’
‘I guess,’ she said uncertainly.
‘I owe my uncle a great deal.’
As if she needed time to think about this, she picked up the coffee pot. ‘Would you like a refill?’
‘Thanks.’ He held out his cup and he admired the unconscious elegance of her slim wrists and hands as she lifted the teapot and poured.
She was dressed for the tropical heat in a soft blue cotton dress, with loose sleeves that left her smooth, lightly tanned arms free. Her hair, which had dried innatural waves after their swim, was twisted into a loose knot from which wispy curls strayed.
Her citified neatness was beginning to unravel and Seth found the process utterly fascinating. He wasn’t sure which version of Amy he preferred, but one thing was certain—he was finding it close to impossible to remain detached, an aloof observer.
But he had to keep his distance. In a matter of days she was returning to Melbourne. She was a city girl. End of story.
Amy filled her cup and added milk, then settled down to resume their conversation. ‘So did your mother make it big in Hollywood?’
‘She’s had walk-on parts in daytime soap operas, but that’s about it.’
‘Has she made enough money to live on?’
‘I have no idea, but it doesn’t really matter. She remarried,’ Seth said coldly. ‘Found herself a cashed-up Californian.’
‘Has she ever been here?’
‘Once, when she dropped me off,’ he said, unhappily aware that he’d revealed much more than he’d intended. It was time to put a stop to these personal questions. Years ago, he’d learned to live without his mother and he wasn’t going to admit to a tender-hearted woman like Amy Ross that his only contact with her had been letters on his eighteenth and twenty-first birthdays with generous cheques attached.
He drained his coffee cup and stood. ‘I’m afraid I have business to attend to and I’m sure you’d appreciate time to yourself while
The marrying kind.
Even so, he knew it would only take the first taste of her tender mouth, the first touch of his lips to her soft, warm skin and he’d be craving more.
He drew in a sharp breath.
Don’t even think about it .
Why was it so hard to remember his past mistakes?
For pity’s sake, man, just answer the woman’s question .
He said, ‘My mother left after my father died.’
‘Left?’ Shock made Amy’s voice tremble. ‘Are you saying she left you ?’
Seth shrugged and forced a smile. ‘Ever since I can remember, she’d had her sights set on Hollywood, and without my father to hold her back she was free to go.’
‘But she wasn’t free, Seth. She had you.’ Amy stared at him, with a hand pressed to her throat. Her dark eyeswere clouded, as if he’d told her something completely beyond her comprehension. ‘You’d just lost your father. You were only twelve. Why couldn’t she keep you with her?’
It was a question that had eaten at Seth for years. Even now, he could feel the agonising slug of loss that had flattened him, when he’d finally understood what his mother’s choice had meant.
Her longing for fame and glamour had outweighed her sense of responsibility.
Bottom line, she hadn’t loved him enough.
Regretting that he’d started this line of talk, he sent Amy another shrugging smile. ‘I was better off up here with my uncle.’
‘I can’t believe that.’
‘I didn’t believe it at first, but with the benefit of hindsight I know it was best.’
Amy looked as if she couldn’t possibly agree.
‘Think about it,’ Seth told her. ‘What twelve-year-old boy would choose to live in a low-rent flat in a huge metropolis like Los Angeles, when he could be here, learning to ride horses, to raise cattle, to fish and to skin-dive, to explore deserted islands, and to paddle a kayak?’
‘I guess,’ she said uncertainly.
‘I owe my uncle a great deal.’
As if she needed time to think about this, she picked up the coffee pot. ‘Would you like a refill?’
‘Thanks.’ He held out his cup and he admired the unconscious elegance of her slim wrists and hands as she lifted the teapot and poured.
She was dressed for the tropical heat in a soft blue cotton dress, with loose sleeves that left her smooth, lightly tanned arms free. Her hair, which had dried innatural waves after their swim, was twisted into a loose knot from which wispy curls strayed.
Her citified neatness was beginning to unravel and Seth found the process utterly fascinating. He wasn’t sure which version of Amy he preferred, but one thing was certain—he was finding it close to impossible to remain detached, an aloof observer.
But he had to keep his distance. In a matter of days she was returning to Melbourne. She was a city girl. End of story.
Amy filled her cup and added milk, then settled down to resume their conversation. ‘So did your mother make it big in Hollywood?’
‘She’s had walk-on parts in daytime soap operas, but that’s about it.’
‘Has she made enough money to live on?’
‘I have no idea, but it doesn’t really matter. She remarried,’ Seth said coldly. ‘Found herself a cashed-up Californian.’
‘Has she ever been here?’
‘Once, when she dropped me off,’ he said, unhappily aware that he’d revealed much more than he’d intended. It was time to put a stop to these personal questions. Years ago, he’d learned to live without his mother and he wasn’t going to admit to a tender-hearted woman like Amy Ross that his only contact with her had been letters on his eighteenth and twenty-first birthdays with generous cheques attached.
He drained his coffee cup and stood. ‘I’m afraid I have business to attend to and I’m sure you’d appreciate time to yourself while
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