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Authors: Lindsay Armstrong
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idea. But…’ She pushed away her plate and picked up a prickly purple rambutan, wondering at the same time how you were supposed to eat it. ‘But I’m not sure I’m the right person to do this. What I mean is, I’m not sure you think I am.’ She watched him keenly for a long moment.
He reached for the coffee pot, poured two cups and pushed one towards her. ‘I do think you’re right for it. I think you have fresh, innovative views.’
‘But something changed last night,’ she persisted quietly.
He looked out over the water and was silent for a time. Yes, Holly Golightly , he thought with an inward grimace, some things did change last night—one you’re not even aware of—but it’s the reason I’m not putting you on the next plane down south.
He clenched his fist as he thought of the dinner last night. His sister-in-law-to-be had decided she might be able to mend some fences, so she’d produced Natasha Hewson at the dinner with the disclaimer that the wedding next weekend was going to be all Nat’s work of art, and they’d be bound to run into each other anyway.
So I’m back in the bloody position , he thought, gritting his teeth, of using you, Ms Harding, to deflect my ex-fiancée. Not that he had any expectations that the two would ever meet, because he intended to whisk her off to Haywire as planned this morning before she went back to Brisbane. But as soon as Nat knew he was travelling with a girl—and he had no doubt she would know it!—she might get the message.
Not exactly admirable behaviour , he mused rather grimly, but needs must when the devil drives.
‘It occurred to me last night,’ he said, switching his gaze suddenly back to Holly, ‘That I might be going into areas I don’t really want to go into—not any further, anyway.’
Holly looked puzzled for a moment and she opened her mouth to say that it had all been pretty harmless, surely? But she changed her mind at the last moment. It was, of course, his prerogative, but it raised a question mark in her mind.
‘Um…’ She hesitated and put the rambutan down.‘That’s up to you. I’m happy to go along with whatever you want to talk about.’
‘So.’ His lips twisted. ‘Are we on again?’
Holly looked down and felt a strong pull towards taking the safe path—the one that would get her away from the dangerous elements of this man. From the undoubted attraction she felt towards him—her fascination with the mystique behind him. But at the same time her feeling was that Brett Wyndham could not be a long=term prospect for her.
She thought briefly of the dinner party she’d witnessed last night and it struck her that, while the man himself embodied the kind of life she found fascinating, there had to be a dimension to his life that occupied another stratum—one she did not belong to—that of ultra-glamorous, gorgeously groomed, sleek and glossy women. Last night they’d all looked like models or film stars.
Should that not make her feel safe with him, however? The fact that she patently didn’t look like a model or a film star…?
She shrugged at last. ‘On. Again.’
They exchanged a long, probing glance until finally he said, ‘I see. We’re still in the same boat.’
She looked perplexed. ‘Boat?’
‘We can’t quite make each other out.’ He smiled, but a shade dryly. ‘All right. Are you ready to fly out shortly?’
Holly hesitated momentarily, then nodded. She went away to change and collect her things.
As she changed into her jeans, a sunshine-yellow singlet top, her denim jacket and her boots, she staredat her image in the mirror a couple of times and realized she looked and felt tense, and didn’t know how to deal with it.
Here she was about to step out into the wide blue yonder with a man she hardly knew—a man she’d clashed with but at the same time felt attracted to—and her emotions were, accordingly, in a bit of a tangle.
How was she going to revert to Holly Harding, journalist,
He reached for the coffee pot, poured two cups and pushed one towards her. ‘I do think you’re right for it. I think you have fresh, innovative views.’
‘But something changed last night,’ she persisted quietly.
He looked out over the water and was silent for a time. Yes, Holly Golightly , he thought with an inward grimace, some things did change last night—one you’re not even aware of—but it’s the reason I’m not putting you on the next plane down south.
He clenched his fist as he thought of the dinner last night. His sister-in-law-to-be had decided she might be able to mend some fences, so she’d produced Natasha Hewson at the dinner with the disclaimer that the wedding next weekend was going to be all Nat’s work of art, and they’d be bound to run into each other anyway.
So I’m back in the bloody position , he thought, gritting his teeth, of using you, Ms Harding, to deflect my ex-fiancée. Not that he had any expectations that the two would ever meet, because he intended to whisk her off to Haywire as planned this morning before she went back to Brisbane. But as soon as Nat knew he was travelling with a girl—and he had no doubt she would know it!—she might get the message.
Not exactly admirable behaviour , he mused rather grimly, but needs must when the devil drives.
‘It occurred to me last night,’ he said, switching his gaze suddenly back to Holly, ‘That I might be going into areas I don’t really want to go into—not any further, anyway.’
Holly looked puzzled for a moment and she opened her mouth to say that it had all been pretty harmless, surely? But she changed her mind at the last moment. It was, of course, his prerogative, but it raised a question mark in her mind.
‘Um…’ She hesitated and put the rambutan down.‘That’s up to you. I’m happy to go along with whatever you want to talk about.’
‘So.’ His lips twisted. ‘Are we on again?’
Holly looked down and felt a strong pull towards taking the safe path—the one that would get her away from the dangerous elements of this man. From the undoubted attraction she felt towards him—her fascination with the mystique behind him. But at the same time her feeling was that Brett Wyndham could not be a long=term prospect for her.
She thought briefly of the dinner party she’d witnessed last night and it struck her that, while the man himself embodied the kind of life she found fascinating, there had to be a dimension to his life that occupied another stratum—one she did not belong to—that of ultra-glamorous, gorgeously groomed, sleek and glossy women. Last night they’d all looked like models or film stars.
Should that not make her feel safe with him, however? The fact that she patently didn’t look like a model or a film star…?
She shrugged at last. ‘On. Again.’
They exchanged a long, probing glance until finally he said, ‘I see. We’re still in the same boat.’
She looked perplexed. ‘Boat?’
‘We can’t quite make each other out.’ He smiled, but a shade dryly. ‘All right. Are you ready to fly out shortly?’
Holly hesitated momentarily, then nodded. She went away to change and collect her things.
As she changed into her jeans, a sunshine-yellow singlet top, her denim jacket and her boots, she staredat her image in the mirror a couple of times and realized she looked and felt tense, and didn’t know how to deal with it.
Here she was about to step out into the wide blue yonder with a man she hardly knew—a man she’d clashed with but at the same time felt attracted to—and her emotions were, accordingly, in a bit of a tangle.
How was she going to revert to Holly Harding, journalist,
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