# Harry St Clair: Rogue or Doctor?

Fiona McArthur

Enter into the world of high-flying Doctors as they navigate the pressures of modern medicine and find escape, passion, comfort and love – in each other’s arms!The secrets behind his smileHarry St Clair does a good job persuading people that the devil-may-care rogue is the real him, but midwife Bonnie McKenzie isn’t fooled for a second!The real Harry St Clair is one of the best doctors in the southern hemisphere. The real Harry St Clair is buried under the weight of his devastating secrets – a weight he no longer has to carry alone…

Praise for Fiona McArthur and her fabulous Lyrebird Lake Maternity mini-series:

‘Ms McArthur has created a series that is powerfully

moving and yet filled with characters that could be

any other member of your family because they’re

down-to-earth people who are just human like everyone

else. Thank you, Ms McArthur, for a thoroughly

enjoyable time spent in your world of Lyrebird Lake.’

—Cataromance.com

He’d done okay today, thanks mostly to Bonnie, but how to live with the crushing guilt of his delay in response?

It had happened in his first emergency after Clara died. His colleagues had told him it was only natural, to give himself time, but he’d backed away in horror. A man not to be trusted. A doctor unable to deal with emergencies. A man ashamed of a vocation that had been his life.

So he had run to Bali.

Avoided any contact with medicine. And drifted. Drifted until a determined little midwife had dragged him into the very situation he’d been running from …

## About the Author

A mother to five sons, FIONA MCARTHUR is an Australian midwife who loves to write. Medical™ Romance gives Fiona the scope to write about all the wonderful aspects of adventure, romance, medicine and midwifery that she feels so passionate about—as well as an excuse to travel! Now that her boys are older, Fiona and her husband Ian are off to meet new people, see new places, and have wonderful adventures. Fiona’s website is at www.fionamcarthur.com

Recent titles by the same author:

MIDWIFE, MOTHER … ITALIAN’S WIFE*

MIDWIFE IN THE FAMILY WAY*

THE MIDWIFE AND THE MILLIONAIRE

MIDWIFE IN A MILLION

* Lyrebird Lake Maternity

Dear Reader

I was fortunate enough to visit Bali earlier this year with a friend—another midwife—and we savoured the Balinese kindness and genuine pride in their customs and country. We rode bicycles down a volcano, attended Balinese cooking classes, visited the Bumi Sehat Birth Centre in Ubud, and learnt some of the customs around birth and childhood in Bali.

I really wanted to share some of the joy of these wonderful people, and so does my hero Harry St Clair—a man hiding from himself in Bali.

In March I visited Alice Springs, Kings Canyon and Ayers Rock with my middle son Andrew. We hired an off-road vehicle and hit the red dust with a vengeance. Luckily he’s a diesel mechanic, and fixed that flat tyre in no time. I just kept typing. The scenery and the sky and the vast distances were awe-inspiring.

Enter Bonnie McKenzie, midwife and Outback community nurse, who’s flown up to Bali from Darwin on a brief holiday. Bonnie is a straight-talker, not in the market for a man, but even she can see there’s simmering sensual tension under the surface when she meets Harry. As for Harry—he doesn’t know what’s hit him.

When Bonnie leaves for Central Australia a week later Harry has to follow. Maybe he could just dip his toe in the real world again? But Ayers Rock and the rugged Australian Outback don’t believe in half-measures, and in all its stark beauty the red centre does the rest. Welcome to Harry and Bonnie’s world.

Warmest wishes for your trip in the Outback!

Fiona


HARRY ST CLAIR: ROGUE OR DOCTOR?

FIONA McARTHUR


www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Lesley, who makes me smile,

Vicki, who smiles as well,

and Margo, from all those years ago.

All friends who shared Bali with me.

And my son Andrew, who changed that tyre

in the desert on the way to Ayers Rock and

shared the magic of the red centre with me.

And always Ian, my own rock.

Happy thirtieth anniversary, my love.

## CHAPTER ONE

SUNSET. Glorious Bali Island.

Harry St Clair glanced around the hotel swimming pool and grimaced. His usual calm deserted him just thinking of going back to Australia and the practice of medicine. To make it worse he was half an hour early to tell them it wasn’t happening.

The pool chairs were littered with tourists sipping cocktails while waiting for sunset and he was careful not to catch the eye of any of them, especially the women, as he scanned for the man who’d arranged to meet him. Now was not the time for dalliance.

Bonnie McKenzie watched him arrive. All the women did. When he approached the pool the ladies’ necks stretched like those of inquisitive turtles to follow his broad shoulders, and she rolled her eyes. She could hear Sacha, in the chair next to her, whisper to Jacinta, and she hoped the words didn’t carry to where he stood.

‘They call him the package. ‘Cause he looks good, talks good and I’ll bet my new black bikini he feels good. But he’s a heartbreaker. Tells all the women he’s not into relationships.’ Jacinta sighed dreamily as her friend went on. ‘He’s not staying at the hotel. I asked the waitress. He’s here to see someone.’

To Bonnie the man didn’t look like a package. He looked like an isolated lighthouse off the coast of Wales that she’d once seen on television.

Alone, surrounded by jagged rocks, immovable in any storm as he waited, protected by a wall of sceptical disinterest in everyone until an older woman in a ceremonial sarong tapped him on the arm and he smiled. Then everything changed.

Then there was something about the tilt of his head and warm greeting as he responded to the Balinese lady with such kindness, such honest charm, it called even to Bonnie—which surprised her, because since selling her engagement ring she’d vowed she’d never be that receptive to a man again.

Good genes, her gran would have said. Bonnie found herself thinking, Good jeans, and she looked away and pressed her lips together to hold the smile in. These young midwives she’d travelled with from Darwin were a bad influence.

She looked back, fairly sure he couldn’t see her under the shadow of her umbrella’d deckchair. He was talking to a man now, shaking his head at the elderly sunburnt tourist she’d seen around the hotel, but her eyes were drawn back to the younger one.

There, good lighthouse, a beam of radiance as the man beside him made him smile, and again, when he lifted one strong hand and shook the other man’s hand. So he could soften and, yes, Bonnie could see why the girls felt the need to discuss him.

Now he looked casual and relaxed, lazily footloose in his cut-off blue jeans, his long brown legs testament to some sporting pursuit that kept him fit. Being footloose and declaring it seemed imminently sensible for him, and much better than stomping on hearts to scale the heights of a profession, like some Bonnie knew.

She could see this man’s loosely buttoned sports shirt fought a losing battle if it wanted to disguise the width of his shoulders or the leanly muscular biceps that peeked out of the short sleeves. Not something that usually fascinated her, leanly muscular men, but those arms teased her now, corded with strength and generous with leashed power. She glanced down at the sudden swish of goose bumps across her own skin and lifted her face to find the breeze that caused it.

Hopefully there was a breeze …

Bonnie shifted back further under the umbrella in case her malady was too much sun. She glanced around and saw she wasn’t the only woman still sneaking a peek. So, thankfully, she wasn’t the only basket case because it seemed he called to every person with two X chromosomes.

No doubt being such a woman magnet could be a trial for him after a while and she wasn’t about to join the party.

The thought settled her. Good. At least she had her common sense back, though she had to admit there was something shadowed and intriguing in his persona that begged the question of his past. Well, there was stuff in her own past, plenty of baggage for the unwary, and he could keep his load because she had enough of her own.

Bonnie looked away to the reds and golds of the Balinese sunset leaking colour into the waves. When Sacha actually nudged her to admire him again, Bonnie shook her head and whispered, ‘Not interested in packages. I’m here to enjoy the sunset without discussing men.’

Sacha rolled her eyes. ‘As you like. You watch the pretty ball in the sky and I’ll watch my own view.’ The girl winked and Bonnie shook her head and pressed her lips together again. She had to. The incorrigible young midwives had been making her smile since she’d unexpectedly joined their holiday.

Pushed into a short vacation by her friends in Darwin, this break had been designed to put a spring back in Bonnie’s step before she started the new job at Ayers Rock, or Uluru now, she reminded herself, the ancient Aboriginal name for their sacred place. And, in fact, although her mouth still felt a bit stiff, she was finding more to smile about every day.

The last sliver of molten fire disappeared into the sea with an audible sigh, though, strictly speaking, the noise came from the collective breath of appreciation from the watchers as they turned and began to meander back to their rooms before the tropical night encroached.

‘So what are we doing for dinner?’ The girls lived for action and Bonnie searched in her head for a skerrick of enthusiasm. Nope. None there.

She’d floated quietly in the deep end of the pool last night and avoided them because she’d spent the first three days with a plastered-on smile. Now she just wanted to soak in the calmness that she had to admit had unexpectedly filtered back into her soul by Balinese osmosis.

‘Think I might curl up on one of the lounges and stare at the colours as they fade. Then maybe dinner in my room.’

‘Okay.’ The girls jumped up now. The nature show was over and youth needed diversion. ‘Maybe we’ll catch up with you later at the club.’ They grinned, waved and took off like they’d miss the chance of a lifetime if they didn’t run.

Harry St Clair watched the scantily clad nymphs hurry away but his eyes were drawn back to the quietly restful woman in the chair. He’d noticed her while he’d been talking to Bob. Allowed himself to be distracted from Bob’s attempt at persuasion, though it hadn’t been a hardship scoping her out. And here he was, still loitering when he could have gone.

He hesitated, conscious of his own aversion to disruption by people when he wished to be alone, and very aware of the ‘don’t bother me’ signals that flew above her like those Balinese kites you’d see any afternoon here—happy doing their own thing.

But she intrigued him, attracted him ridiculously with a little flick of her hair and the stretch of her fingers when she put her glass down, and suddenly he didn’t want to eat dinner in peace.

A little harmless weather conversation with an intriguing little sun-lover would chase away the demons the job offer had left him with. And he’d had a beer already so he wasn’t driving back to Ubud until tomorrow.

She looked nothing like the usual women he flirted with. She looked more like someone he’d actually converse with. Like his housekeeper’s sister, he’d just seen, or any woman safely married and motherly and therefore not interested in him as a fling, but this young woman seemed someone he could briefly connect with, which in itself was strange. Connection hadn’t been on his agenda—especially in the last two years.

Serene, that was what she was, though serenity over sadness? Maybe it was just his ego because she hadn’t looked his way at all and she obviously didn’t feel any of the vibes he was getting.

Harry gave up the struggle and crossed to her umbrella. ‘I wondered if they’d leave you alone,’ he said, and as an opening remark it was pretty lame, but she looked even better up close. He was right. Her eyes did hold a background of darkness, or maybe green-toned memories that made him want to ask why. Maybe that was why he’d felt drawn to her.

She wore a cheap silk dress that looked incredibly cute on her, unlike the flaunting swimwear the others had worn, as if she wasn’t confident displaying her body.

Shame, that.

The concept of conversation grew even more attractive. If he could convince her, that was, because she looked like he was the last person she needed to see, and usually that was enough deterrent when he just didn’t care enough.

She took her time to tilt her firm little chin to a ridiculous angle so she could look up at his face. ‘Actually, they’re my friends.’

‘Sorry. Didn’t mean to be rude.’

Bonnie was in a dilemma. The palpitations had come from nowhere and his proximity was making it hard not to blush. The lighthouse offered her the five-star smile free of charge. Dazzling sweep of light. Then his words sank in. And even an apology. Not something Bonnie was used to getting from men. Nice of him, Bonnie thought, but she wished he hadn’t because she didn’t need more reasons to be attracted.

‘I’m not judging,’ he said. ‘I remember being young.’

In years he was nowhere near old but there was a wealth of experience, possibly not all good, behind those dazzling eyes of his. Some days she felt decrepit too but didn’t know this guy well enough to agree.

‘Poor you.’ Though he didn’t look poor in any sense of the word. She wondered what had happened to make him feel aged but that was probably all part of his pickup plan. He had to be somewhere between thirty and thirty-five, which put him five years older than her at least.

Up close he was even more impressive in a gut-wrenching, tear-the-breath-from-your-throat kind of way she didn’t like to admit, but thankfully she could now call on months of training in unattainability. ‘Do I know you?’

More smile and the look he was giving suggested he’d like to move that way. She ignored the little buzz that grew with the idea. ‘I don’t know. Do you?’ He held out one tanned hand and she looked at it. ‘Harry St Clair,’ she heard him say.

Such beautiful hands. Long fingers, square-clipped nails, fine hairs across a strong back—and a wedding band. She hadn’t noticed that before and she didn’t know why she’d be shocked. Maybe because the way he was smiling at her had nothing to do with fidelity. It was a strange old world when people could act like this.

Bonnie uncurled herself from the chair and stood up next to him. She was tall but he was taller by a fair margin and that only made her more annoyed. She couldn’t hide the contempt in her eyes but then, that was what happened when you smelled a rat when you expected aftershave.

She raised her eyebrows and then her chin. ‘I don’t know you.’ She shook her head. ‘Do I know your wife?’

His hand dropped and his other came over the ring and hid it from view. ‘I doubt that. She’s been gone for more than two years.’

Bonnie closed her eyes. He was a widower? Hell. ‘I’m sorry.’ But it was too late now. She’d jumped to the conclusion he was just like Jeremy, Dr Sleaze, with the harem of women in the wings and their joint bank account he’d emptied.

Infidelity brought back the memories she’d thought she’d zippered away in a sealed compartment, like she’d packed her suitcase to fly into Denpasar. But that was no excuse for accusing him.

She could feel her fingers against her side, twitching a little as if hoping he’d put his hand out again and give her another shot. But her hand wouldn’t make the journey by itself. Her barriers were secure. That was a good thing. ‘I’m sorry. I have to go.’

Harry wasn’t ready for that. Hadn’t expected it because it didn’t happen to him often. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been given the flick so smoothly. He followed her. ‘I didn’t catch your name.’

She kept walking and obviously she didn’t care if he heard her or not. ‘I didn’t throw it,’ she muttered.

So this was how it felt, Harry reminded himself. Unpleasant, but more interesting. Maybe he was a masochist? The wall around her was higher than the one around the Royal Palace in Ubud and twice as fascinating. He knew all about walls to keep people out. Suddenly it became imperative he have more than a brief chat with her about the weather.

He took two big steps and caught up with her. ‘But you threw an insult. I’m only looking for a nice platonic dinner partner to share Jimbaran Bay with. Maybe we could talk about that?’

At least she’d stopped. Turned to look at him. But she wasn’t saying anything. He could feel those liquid eyes assessing him, and he felt as if he were posing, like in a passport photograph, with that frozen, trying-not-to-look-like-a-psychopath expression on his face.

It was as if she didn’t know what to say so she didn’t say anything at all. More people should try that. It was attractive. And at least it wasn’t no.

He went on because he knew he had seconds before she disappeared. Make it count, old boy. ‘I really am Harry St Clair. They know me here. I’m reluctant to ask someone else.’ He glanced around as if there were loads of women he could ask. ‘All those candles and tables in the sand at Jimbaran are just too romantic.’ He shrugged. ‘I can tell you loathe me. I’d feel safe with you.’

He felt like groaning. What the heck was falling out of his mouth? He was an idiot and he wouldn’t blame her if she ran away. Where had that come from?

‘I think you’ve tickets on yourself,’ she said, and her eyes suddenly looked as lush as the local jungle and just as dangerous. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea because this woman had weapons he wasn’t that sure he could hold out against if she used them all.

‘I apologise. I was insensitive about your wife.’ She looked away and he thought he heard her sigh. ‘I don’t know you enough to loathe you but I guess I could think about trying.’

Bonnie glanced over her shoulder at the pinking horizon. Was she mad? Was it too late to squirm out? ‘The sun’s gone. Why go to Jimbaran now?’ She’d heard of the bay past the airport. ‘Everything I’ve heard’s about the sunset.’

He slanted a quick look at her as he followed her towards the main building of the resort. ‘I enjoy eating seafood on the beach. But not alone. My treat?’

‘Wow. A big spender. I might choose lobster.’ Even to her it sounded like a yes. She didn’t know the man. But then, the girls had implied he wasn’t a serial killer. Most men who looked like him usually weren’t. No doubt some women would do their own dying to attract his attention.

But there was that tiny worrying buzz that hummed somewhere near her stomach when she looked at him. The last time she’d been attracted this noticeably to a man it had ended in major disaster and she’d decided she truly enjoyed being single.

Which would be why her friends had practically forced her onto the plane to Denpasar. Hmm. Maybe she didn’t enjoy total isolation from all men all the time. Maybe she just needed a holiday flirtation to restore her self-esteem and a sense of balance?

‘I’m good for the bill.’ He glanced at his watch, a flash one, and she wondered if it was real or one of the ten-dollar fakes that were sold on every corner in Kuta. It looked real but then, so did he and she didn’t believe in him. And this hotel was nice but not expensive. Not a place for watches like his. Lots of things didn’t make sense.

He went on. ‘I’m starving. You look great. Don’t suppose you’d come as you are?’

He was way too pushy but she was hungry now, not sure where that appetite had come from. She glanced down at the halter-necked silk dress she’d picked up at the markets. It was cool, comfortable and matched the sequined slides she’d bought with it. Why change for a man she barely knew?

‘I’ll leave a note under the girls’ door.’ It didn’t hurt to pretend somebody cared where she went and with whom.

He nodded. ‘Great idea. In case we’re late.’

Cool green eyes met blue. ‘We won’t be late.’

Harry looked across at her and tried to figure it out. Every time he looked into her eyes he fell more deeply under her spell. And she was determined. It was her way or the highway and he respected that. But it would be good to settle why he’d been so affected by her and then get her out of his head. Note to self: not into his bed. Good plan.

Harry hoped she couldn’t see how amazed he was she’d agreed at all. He’d thought they’d imploded after she’d mentioned Clara but they’d come around again. He was ridiculously pleased about that. Maybe it was just the fact he could talk to her and not feel he had to be someone he wasn’t. Not sure why that was either. ‘I’ll get a taxi, then, shall I?’

## CHAPTER TWO

IT SEEMED Jimbaran Bay had become an institution like Kuta with a long strip of restaurants.

The beach lay stretched to the north of them with choose-your-fish and lobster tanks, flame-leaping barbecues and the biggest array of fresh seafood Bonnie had seen for years.

Then there were the hundreds of wooden tables spread across the sand almost down to the lapping water, each restaurant’s tables abutting each other as they squeezed side by side.

A pall of barbecue smoke lay over the parking area when the taxi dropped them off, people coming and going, taxis and private cars and even limousines jostling for space. And, of course, hundreds of motorbikes parked in orderly rows.

Bonnie gazed in awe at the confusion and choice. ‘How do you know which restaurant to eat in?’

‘Been before. I have my favourite and they’ll save a good table for me.’ Harry watched her drink it in. Her pleasure made him look again, inhale the smoke, hear the chatter between the competing restaurants, and recognise some of the reasons he seemed to end up here when he came down to this end of Bali.

But most of his unusual lightness of heart seemed to be emanating from being with the woman at his side. Strange, that.

She walked with him down the concrete passage between two vying shopfronts and he could feel her presence near his hip like a little force-field of energy reacting with him. Swirls of awareness prickled like the sprays of loose sand that flicked off their shoes as they walked.

When they hit the beach the sun had well and truly gone, a darkening silhouette of a fishing boat glided out on the waves as the candles flared into life along the tables. Darkness fell softly, like one of those cashmere pashminas the women wore here. He heard her sigh out a little more tension from those militant shoulders and it made him feel good.

Bonnie felt herself relax as she looked around. This was different. Time out of the real world, maybe because of the semidarkness. She could get used to eating in the dark on a beach too. It was so unlike her to come with a stranger but there were enough people to keep her safe here and she could always catch her own taxi home. And suddenly it felt fun to be out with a good-looking man for an uncomplicated dinner. Her friends would be very proud of her.

They crunched through the sand all the way down to the water’s edge. Bonnie glanced at couples and families and noisy groups of tourists all munching and laughing in groups as they passed.

To her delight every table had at least one person sucking milk from a coconut through a straw. The cheerful mood lifted her spirits even higher. She used to be a happy person and it was nice to glimpse a little joy again.

Finally their waiter stopped at a table. It wasn’t quite in the water but there was no one in front to obscure the last of the glow on the horizon. She stood for a moment and just gazed out over the waves. Definitely a cool place to have dinner.

Harry beat the waiter to her chair and pulled it out for her. ‘Your throne, madam.’

She could feel the hairs on her arms respond to his nearness. Visceral response. Pheromones. This wasn’t good. She wanted flirtation, not irreversible fascination. Please, not that sort of happy. Her eyes met his and she didn’t smile. ‘I’m your dinner partner, not your date.’

Snap. Reality bit. Harry was silent as he sat down and then picked up his fork to examine it. Carefully—while he let her words sink in. Nice fork. Silver with three tines. Not much of interest there. ‘Got it. No chairs held. And I’ll have no deep and meaningful conversations from you either,’ he joked, but there was an underlying truth in his words.

He glanced up and caught the fiercely guarded expression on her face. She was as bad as him. Funny how he’d never realised how bad he was. ‘What about car doors? Did that offend you?’ He saw her face tighten even more.

She closed her eyes and held up her hands and he could foresee the moment when she’d say she shouldn’t have come.

Panic flared in her eyes and he cursed his stupidity.

Some bloke had done a doozy on her. Oops, he thought, but didn’t say it out loud. He accepted the message and tapped the table so she looked at him. He tried selling his smile again. ‘I’m sorry.’

That was when he realised he didn’t know her name. Pleasant and non-threatening dinner conversation coming up. ‘I really don’t want to eat alone. But what shall I call you?’

Bonnie forced herself to calm down. Panic weakened defences and that was the last thing she wanted. Her name? Now, there was a dilemma. She had this stupid urge to make up a name, something wildly outrageous that he’d know wasn’t real, so it didn’t cause problems but would maintain distance in case she needed more space than he was willing to give.

Brain vacuum didn’t help. ‘Bonnie.’

‘So tell me, Bonnie …’ He paused and she smiled to herself because it was plain he didn’t believe that really was her name. Delicious.

‘Are you in Bali long?’ He sat back in his chair with a little smile curving his lips. Good grief, he had gorgeous lips.

She blinked. ‘A week. Then I start a new job.’

‘So what’s your new job?’ When he leaned back his shirt stretched over his chest and her mouth dried.

She tried to unobtrusively rustle up some saliva so she could answer. ‘Outreach nursing, at Ayers Rock. I’m a registered nurse and midwife and do short stints in isolated places.’

A strange expression crossed his face so fast she couldn’t guess the cause. Interesting but he didn’t explain it. Just nodded.

Blimey. Talk about danger, Harry thought. The same place as the job he’d declined. And too close to a town he wanted to forget. His wife had been a midwife, they’d met at Katherine when he’d worked for the RFDS. Fate was out to smack him apparently.

When he changed the subject she didn’t seem to notice. Thank goodness. He’d already said he only wanted a dinner partner, which apparently suited her fine.

Back to discussing her might be safer. ‘So what have you done here in paradise you wouldn’t have done at home?’

She gestured to the beach in front of them. ‘Apart from dining with a man I don’t know, you mean?’

He wasn’t silly enough to fall into the trap. ‘Hmm.’

She shrugged. ‘Nothing, really. Swam, but I did that in Darwin, shopped at markets and watched the sunset over the ocean, but we do that at Mindil on Thursdays and Sundays in Darwin too.’

He watched her think about it. Her thoughts may as well have been typed up on a screen. It was amusing how transparent she was and he found it delightfully refreshing. ‘While I’m here I’d like to see some of the countryside. The terraced rice fields and a volcano—none of those where I come from.’

He nodded. He’d found a topic. ‘So you should do the bike ride from Agung.’

He could tell she’d vaguely heard of it but couldn’t place it. ‘And that would be …?’

He gestured loosely in the direction of Kuta. ‘Up in the mountains, a couple of hours’ drive, well worth it. The bike ride’s about twenty-five kilometres long.’

‘Probably not happening, then.’ She shrugged. ‘I haven’t ridden a bike for ten years.’ She laughed at the thought. ‘That’d be a sight. I wouldn’t be able to stand up after.’

Bonnie tried not to get sucked under his spell but his smile was infecting her. Flashing like a beam over the waves when she least expected to see it in the gloom and made her think of the lighthouse again. He sat forward a little, leaning towards her in an effort to enthuse her. ‘The ride’s all downhill. Through villages, rice fields, over a river. You’d love it.’

She only had a few days left. She doubted she’d organise herself enough for that. ‘I don’t think bike riding’s on my list.’

She watched him frown. ‘Sure it is. If you’re up for it, let me know. I have great contacts.’

She’d love it but she didn’t need his help. Or his company. One night of exposure and flirtation was enough to start with and this guy was just too potent for a bruised heart like hers. ‘I’ll see what the girls say.’ They’d probably ask how many men were going. But she wasn’t debunking the myth that she had protection.

Thankfully it seemed he’d accepted she wouldn’t be pinned to a decision. ‘So what else would you like to do while on beautiful Bali?’

Well, she knew she didn’t want to talk about herself. Never had really. ‘How about you tell me what you’re going to do. How long you’re here for?’

He raised his dark brows and smiled. ‘So bossy,’ he said. She wished.

Then, as if vaguely surprised at himself, he did answer her. ‘I’m here indefinitely. There’s a house up in Ubud. My mother lived there a few months every year. I’ve been visiting for a while.’

Real watch evidently. ‘Wow. And I’m guessing you have servants and everything.’ Even she could hear the reverse snobbery in her voice. Where had that come from?

He tilted his head and she guessed he’d heard it too. ‘There’s a family that maintain the buildings, yes. Have done for fifty years. Ketut and his wife have looked after my mother and she looked after them. But like family—not servants. You have a problem with that?’

Of course she didn’t. And the idea of extra family was a sweet one. She’d be happy to have a distant aunt, let alone a Balinese family looking after her. No reason on earth why she should mind except to wonder why he wanted to waste his time with her. ‘No. I’m sorry. I keep putting my foot in it with you—not sure why. It’s not common for me.’

‘Maybe it’s because I keep you off balance.’ He grinned. ‘But, then, that’s not nice for a platonic friend so I’ll apologise too.’ He glanced down at the menu. ‘We’d better order before it’s too dark for you to see what you’re eating.’

Now her hunger seemed to have soaked into the sand under her feet and she wished she could follow it. Who was out of practice as a relaxed dinner companion? ‘What are you having?’

He put the menu back on the table. ‘I’ll do the set plate with lots of seafood and a side salad.’

She couldn’t even read the menu in the dark. ‘Sounds good.’

He sat straighter and glanced around. ‘You get a drink with it. Have you tried the local beer? It’s very light.’

She’d seen it advertised everywhere. ‘No, but bought the T-shirt.’

He grinned and signalled the waiter, who appeared like magic. ‘We’ll have two Jimbaran specials, two beers and a coconut drink, please.’

Obviously she’d been blatant with her curiosity about the coconuts. But it was nice he’d seen her interest. Or was it? She’d need to watch this man. He was unobtrusively delightful.

The waiter produced two beers from his passing friend, set them down and departed with a big white smile. Harry handed one over to her. Then he carried on the conversation as if there’d been no break.

‘Those T-shirts are the most common exports with tourists. Hope you didn’t pay more than twenty thousand rupees for it.’

So he was focused. She’d need to watch that too, but she’d been dying to talk to someone about this.

She tapped her glass with her fingernail. ‘I have issues with bartering. I can see the Balinese enjoy it, but I’d prefer just to buy the darn thing without the hassle. I find it very stressful to pretend I’m offended at the price.’

He took a sip and when he didn’t answer, she decided to copy him. A tentative sip. The drink was light, still beery and she wasn’t that much of a fan, but it was cold and wet and felt wonderful going down.

Then he said, ‘Wimp,’ and she nearly choked. He grinned and went on. ‘Barter is fun. It’s part of Balinese culture, like mental gymnastics. Good bargaining can make a huge difference to a family wage if they’re lucky. But the experience should never be unpleasant or too pushy.’

‘Yeah, well. I’m such a sucker.’ She sighed. ‘What do you do when people look sad and you feel guilty you haven’t bought anything?’

‘You smile.’ He grinned and showed her how. If he smiled at someone like that they’d probably give him the thing, she thought. Free.

He went on. ‘It’s the secret of Bali. Smile and mean it. For bargaining, if they start at fifty thousand rupees, you offer twenty-five. They’ll look horrified, you smile and they’ll smile and counter with forty. Then you say thirty and they’ll take thirty-five. It’s always good to aim for about five thousand under what you want to pay so the seller wins. It’s good luck for the seller and we can all do with that.’

Not an accurate picture of barter when she was involved. She tended to wilt at the first horror and fake accusation. ‘Forty-nine thousand would be a good barter for me. That sounds easy but it’s not.’

The light from the candle flickered across his face. He shook his head and she decided he didn’t have a bad angle she could concentrate on. ‘That’s because you’re thinking personal. It’s not personal. When it all boils down to it, if you want something, think about what you’d pay for it and be happy. Then change what they’re asking into your currency and you’ll see you still have a bargain. Carry a printed version of your dollar versus their currency. It’s simpler to remember that way.’

She wasn’t sure she was ever going to enjoy bargaining but maybe she’d give it a go with a little more enthusiasm. She could write out a conversion table. ‘Okay.’

Or maybe she hadn’t sounded as convinced as she’d thought because he said, ‘Or look for fixed-price shops. There’s always one around and then you’ll get a fair price, not quite as cheap but they’ll take out the wild swings when someone really good reels you in.’

She glanced at his confident face. ‘I bet you don’t get reeled in.’

‘Not often. By the Balinese anyway.’ There was an added nuance she didn’t want to identify and thankfully their food arrived.

By this time it was darker, and even though her eyes had adjusted, the candle gave off small circles of light that didn’t include the platter beside her. The waiter brought two more tiny candlelights but she still couldn’t see what she was eating. ‘So this is a taste sensation, not a visual one?’

He laughed, deep and amused, and she felt like a trickle of that cool sand under her feet had slid down her back and along her arms. Well, she was on a beach. It was okay. But she had a strong premonition there was more trickling sand to come.

‘Want to see your dinner?’ She watched him shift his body and reach into his pocket and then suddenly there was a blinding flash.

She rubbed her eyes. He laughed again. ‘Sorry. Should’ve warned you.’ His smile beamed in the night as her vision began to recover and he handed her his camera. ‘It looks like this.’

Bonnie’s meal was captured for posterity and illuminated clearly on the camera screen. ‘You’re really a do-now-think-later kinda guy, aren’t you?’ But she could see a long barbecued fish, brown and crunchy, and one gruesome eye. She wished she hadn’t seen that but at least she wouldn’t accidentally eat it in the dark. She shuddered.

‘The less thinking the better,’ he said cryptically, then went on. ‘The ones in the shells are mussels, and despite the thought if you’re not a shellfish eater, they taste wonderful. King prawns, calamari on skewers, crab and lobster meat piled on the side. And the green salad.’

It was all recognisable now. Actually, quite a neat trick to take the photo, she acknowledged, at least to herself. ‘Obviously you’ve used this in the dark before.’

He tucked the camera away in his pocket. ‘Too many times on my own. I’m glad you came.’

‘So am I.’ She was. And feeling more relaxed. Bonnie didn’t think it was the beer, though maybe it had more of a kick than he was letting on, but the atmosphere here would make anyone feel good.

Smiling Balinese waiters, the muted wash of the waves just a few feet away, candles all around them and brighter lights in the distance. Every now and then a plane took off or landed at Ngurah Rai airport across the water and the stars had started to shine more brightly as the night deepened. ‘This is pretty cool. Thank you for bringing me.’

‘You’re welcome.’ Her coconut drink arrived and even in the dark it looked huge. ‘Do you want me to take a photo of that so you can see it?’

She thought of the brightness of the flash and the disruption of the mood. ‘I can guess. It’s not worth the eye pain.’ She picked it up and the milk inside sloshed. ‘I’ll never finish this.’

‘That’s why I only bought one. Drink what you fancy and leave the rest. I’ll finish it so you don’t feel guilty.’

There was something disturbing about the thought of him drinking from her straw, too easy to picture and not without sensory ramifications. She turned the conversation.

‘The stars are amazing.’

‘Bit too much light here to do them justice.’

‘I love stars but wish I knew more about them.’

‘I’m not much better,’ he said, and they both glanced up then down at each other and for some reason they both laughed. The beginnings of a dangerous rapport. They both sobered.

Bonnie broke the silence. ‘So what do you do while you’re over here?’ She took a sip and the strong flavour of coconut overlaid the beer.

He attacked his meal as if he wanted distance from that moment too. ‘Nothing.’

He paused as if waiting for her to say how terrible to drift between jobs, but she wasn’t going to.

For a short time, nothing would be great. And that pastime would be as far away from Jeremy as possible. Her ex didn’t know anything about cultivating stillness. The longer they were parted the better she was feeling, except she’d learned a very valuable lesson about people who lied.

‘So you don’t get bored?’ She took another bite and chewed while she waited. The fish melted in her mouth and the tang of lime made her sigh with bliss.

He put down his fork. ‘Not yet. I do a bit of diving up at Lovina, some surfing.’

She picked up the coconut again. This meal was a symphony of different flavours and she was glad she hadn’t chickened out. Surfing, diving, eating on beaches. Sounded idyllic. For a while. ‘Do you do anything constructive? What’s your profession? Your job when you’re not surfing?’

Anything worthwhile? His raised eyebrows noted the observation that lay unspoken between them, but still the question had popped out and mentally she shrugged. Well, she did want to know because surfing and scuba diving wasn’t a lifestyle, especially if he was trained to do something useful, or had done in the past.

She’d been devastated by her love life bombing out but she hadn’t given up her life to hide in a distant country. No. If she was honest, she’d hidden in work. Which was the reverse of what he’d done, she supposed.

He was silent for a few beats. ‘Sometimes I build things, work in the fields every now and then. And I’m studying yoga.’

The last thing she would have connected with him but then, he did occasionally give off restful vibes. ‘I can’t quite see you and yoga together.’ She thought about it some more. ‘So you’re going to be a yoga teacher? I guess both our professions are about health.’

‘No. I’m studying it for myself.’

She laughed. He amused her, he really did. ‘Selfish ‘R’ Us? Who will look after you if you don’t?’

‘That’s right.’ He sat back in his seat and smiled. If she wasn’t mistaken, she’d say he was relieved by her amusement.

She couldn’t imagine not having work to take her mind off the rest. ‘So what about your parents? What do they think of you growing old on an island?’

‘They’re both dead.’

Oops. ‘I’m an orphan too. It sucks.’ She really didn’t want to talk about this and wasn’t sure why she was except she felt somehow responsible for the conversation. ‘My mum died when I was twelve. Never knew my father and my gran brought me up. She died three months ago. I nursed her at home.’ And my sleazy fiancé slept with his ex and stole all my money while I was busy. But she was getting over that. Really.

‘Tough, but special. So you normally work as a midwife?’

‘Mostly. I trained in Darwin, did a little time in ICU, but mostly a midwife. I love working remote in short stints but you miss out on the births mostly that way.’

She speared another succulent piece of fish. ‘And you, before you came here?’

‘Different things. None of them useful.’ Slam. She felt the whoosh from the shutting door. Now she wished she’d shut her mouth. She kept it closed in case something else came out that she’d regret and ate another piece of fish and left him with the silence. He’d caused it.

Harry had a pretty good idea what she was thinking. Well, what could he say? She wasn’t getting the truth. Oh, did medicine, fell in love, lost wife and child because I was stupid, now have abdicated from world.

By the time she’d finished her fish he could see she was full. Not a big eater, he gathered. In fact, she seemed a little on the thin side.

When the waiter returned he shook his head at the proffered menus. ‘I’m guessing you don’t need sweets.’

‘No, thank you.’

‘Any chance of a quick stroll along the beach before we leave?’

She opened her mouth to say no but he kept talking and successfully forestalled her. Another win to him. ‘Just to let the food settle. Only as far as the tables go and it’s in plain view of everyone.’

He could see she hated the thought of giving in to him again. Her independence amused him and only made him more determined to conquer her reserve. He wanted to win! Now how long since he’d felt that?

Bonnie didn’t know where this competitiveness had come from but probably she should listen to it as a warning signal. She was her own woman. Then her mouth said, ‘Maybe for a few minutes and then I must get back to my friends.’

‘Sure.’ He stood up and despite their initial conversation he helped pull out her chair. ‘It gets a little tricky in the sand when the chairs sink in a bit.’

Bonnie felt him beside her. Her arms did that hair-waving thing again and this time the shiver went right down to her toes. To break the mood she said the first thing that came into her head. ‘Are you saying I’m so heavy I bogged my chair?’

His teeth flashed as he glanced at her figure. ‘No.’

He nodded at the waiter to say they’d be back and they took the few steps to the water’s edge and began walking along towards the airport in the distance. They didn’t speak but strangely it wasn’t as awkward as she’d thought it would be.

The waves lapped politely, no big chasers in the occasional wash up like happened at home, just gentle lapping that never threatened her light slides, or her concentration at maintaining a safe distance.

The sand crunched firmly beneath their feet and the stars overhead twinkled benignly down on them. She could feel her annoyance from his refusal to discuss his life recede like the water beside her and she let it go.

It didn’t matter. Really it didn’t. She didn’t know him. Probably wouldn’t see him again and it had been a very pleasant meal.

Then he ruined it. ‘Any chance of meeting up tomorrow?’

She fought back the overreaction she wanted to make, like a full-throated scream of Yes, and impressed herself by the way her answer slid out quite lightly. ‘No.’

‘The day after?’

She wanted a flirtation, not an affair. Already she was too aware of every facial expression, every shrug of those lovely shoulders and the strength in those powerful legs that walked beside her. Sensory overload. She glanced at him. ‘Thanks for dinner. Can we go back now?’

Harry felt her pull away, even though her body didn’t move. It was a subtle stiffening and leaning to increase the distance between them. Unmistakable. Well, he’d blown that. Not something he was used to doing but he was just out of practice. Funny how he could be smooth with someone he didn’t care how it went with and a bumbling idiot with someone he wanted to impress.

Now, why was he trying to impress her? He slanted a glance at Bonnie of the determined chin and wondered why as they walked back to their table. He liked it that she was taller than most women, though she was a little frail. He could easily imagine being able to span her waist with his hands, and maybe he should insist on dessert to fatten her up.

She seemed too fragile to him. Maybe nursing her gran had really taken it out of her. He could feel the swell of empathy pulling bricks out of the walls he’d built over the last two years, snapping mortar and the solid pattern of layers like a berserk tradesman. Now, how had he left himself open to that?

His sensible side began a mental slurry of cement on the cracks and crumbles and hardened his heart. Then the words came easily.

‘I’ll pay the bill and take you home, then.’

## CHAPTER THREE

IN THE early hours of the morning Harry lay on his side and gazed out over the beach. He watched the stars inch their way across the sky. He’d tried turning his back on them but he knew they were there. Laughing at him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d tossed and turned over a woman. Well, he could but he didn’t want to remember that disaster.

But Bonnie was different, softer, like a calm place to sit and enjoy situations and surroundings he’d forgotten how to enjoy. And that tinge of sadness around her sat like a mist he wanted to wave away. Problem was that voice in his head had burnt him before. He squeezed his pillow again and buried his ear into the packed softness of feathers. Softness was a pain.

Next morning, he found himself standing beside her breakfast table. Just in case she’d changed her mind. ‘Good morning, Bonnie.’

Bonnie shook her head. Obviously Harry didn’t understand no. Which for an intelligent man seemed a little bizarre.

She took a careful sip of her tea, savoured the honey— Bali had lovely black tea—and ignored the little glow that wasn’t leaf-related. ‘Good morning, Harry.’

‘You must be Bonnie’s friends.’ He glanced at the girls as if to check their response to her fake name. Bonnie’s smile kicked. Now, that was gold.

‘May I join you?’ His open-necked shirt exposed a strong brown throat and the buttons strained as he leaned over the table. Her poor young friends nearly swallowed their spoons. Too much testosterone this early in the morning.

Sacha stuttered. ‘O-of course.’ With cheeks like fairy floss she practically offered him her own chair, then turned wondering eyes on Bonnie. ‘You said it was a one-off.’

It was a six-seater table. Bonnie made a note to herself to insist on a table that would only seat three next time. ‘He’s obviously slow on the uptake.’

Sacha waved him into a bamboo chair and he sat down. ‘I wondered if I could interest you ladies in a bike ride down Mt Agung. I have a friend who runs tours and he’s got a couple of places left this morning.’

‘Two or three?’ Bonnie asked sweetly. It was dare for him to be specific. He smiled sweetly at her.

‘Three or four.’

‘Even room for you?’ Bonnie sighed. Before he could answer, Jacinta dropped her shoulders and Sacha did too. ‘We’re out. We booked that cooking class thing today.’

Harry attempted to look disappointed. ‘And you?’

‘It really is Bonnie, you know.’ She smiled sweetly. Did she want to spend a whole day with this guy? Or would she spend it by herself, wishing she’d gone with him?

After the call last night this was her last full day and the bike ride sounded ideal. She’d see the countryside after all and she needed to break out of this cloud of apathy she’d been in for the last few months. He was certainly helping there.

It seemed unlikely he’d attempt to race her off in a pack of cyclists. And she had some say in it. ‘What time is this ride and how do I know it really exists?’

‘You do have a nastily suspicious mind.’ He produced a brochure and a mobile phone. ‘But I expected that. You could ring Wayan and ask him.’

She took the glossy pamphlet and turned it over in her hands. The number stood out plainly and she was very tempted to do it. He was daring her now and she couldn’t decide if he was real or fake. He’d be great at poker.

He looked suspiciously ready to go in that open-necked shirt that dared her to peek at the strong column of his throat but she wasn’t going to.

He wore different blue jeans and scuffed joggers that might have been expensive in their heyday, and that watch, which she’d decided was definitely not real. Like him.

There, she’d made a decision. If the watch was fake, he was fake. She’d buy one in the women’s version and this man would know the right vendor on the street. ‘Where’d you buy your watch?’

‘Geneva.’

She wrinkled her nose. There was no deception in the answer. She’d been wrong. Again. ‘What time is pick-up?’

‘Half an hour.’ He was rushing her. He liked to do that but she’d lost the bet with herself so she had to go. For an internal argument it was pretty thin. It was just so darned hard to say no to someone who made her smile. At least on the inside.

The bus had seen better days but the grins of the tour guides were shiny new. Typically Balinese, they oozed warmth and fun and pleasure at the company of tourists and the chance to show off their culture and country. Something a lot of countries could learn from, Bonnie mused as she was helped into the bus.

Four couples made up the bus passengers when they started again—two young female schoolteachers from Portugal, two chefs from France, a fitness instructor and his wife from the States, and Harry and Bonnie from Australia.

Bonnie was jammed against the window, which in itself was a good thing and not only for the view. It was a bit like choosing a window seat on the plane. You could create your own space if you needed. But she could still feel the warmth from Harry’s jeans-clad leg against hers and that wasn’t going away unless she broke the safety glass.

Harry laughed and joked with the others around them about accents and travel mishaps, a different person from the man she’d seen yesterday at the pool. Aloof and cynical seemed to have stayed home today. So why’d he been so threatened yesterday? Interesting.

Bonnie found herself relaxing back with a little proprietorial smile that said she was here—with him—as the little bus ground up the mountain. Until she realised her sin and it slipped from her face.

Then she frowned. Crazy. This was holiday, short-term, transient. Even more transient than she’d anticipated. Enjoy the moment, enjoy the company and most of all enjoy Harry. She was on vacation, for goodness’ sake, and she’d soon be at the new job, wishing she had. This was safe.

Harry saw the moment Bonnie became a part of the group and suddenly the day seemed brighter. She smiled at him and for that moment the sadness he’d glimpsed in her eyes was gone. He felt his breath kick somewhere at the back of his throat and his chest expanded. He’d done that. He’d helped her feel better. And it felt good.

That was when he reminded himself to be careful.

He looked away from her profile, past the itching temptation to study the bones of her face and out the window towards the ancient volcano as it came into sight. Terraced rice fields skirted the mountains like layers on a brilliant green wedding cake and that thought made him shudder.

This wasn’t him. Connecting with women was so not on his programme. He’d been there and the pain was so great he wasn’t climbing that volcano so he could fall off again. He’d pulled himself away from all he knew, bolted home to Bali, the one place where he could drift and nobody would think it out of the ordinary. A place he could drown out the voice in his head that said he didn’t want this empty life but he wasn’t willing to risk more pain.

‘Is that a volcano?’ Bonnie turned towards him and her eyes were like the rice fields outside the window—iridescent with life.

He ran his hand down his face to clear any dumb expression he might’ve been left with. ‘Yes, Mt Agung. We’ll be having morning tea at the restaurant above Mt Batur, at Kintamani—lots of old lava at the base of that one. Then we’ll pick up the bikes at a village and ride downhill until we get to the river.’ He shut his mouth. He was rambling.

‘So how many times have you done this?’

He shrugged. ‘A few.’ Too many. ‘Sometimes I help out when they’re short of supervising riders, and it’s always a great day.’ Brainless, time consuming, just what he wanted.

She tilted her head. ‘You said you were visiting. How long have you been here this time?’

‘On and off, nine months this time.’ She was studying him and he could feel his face freeze with the old barriers at giving anything away.

‘A whole pregnancy,’ she said, and he winced. Great timing. A good boot to the guts like he needed to stop the rot. Ironic.

He turned away and spoke to the Portuguese girl about surfing, blocking Bonnie out, and yet still he felt it when she withdrew her attention and looked back out the window. His breath eased out. The Portuguese girl batted her eyelashes at him but her interest didn’t faze him like Bonnie’s did. Funny, that.

Finally they made it to the first stop. He’d never noticed the trip taking so long before and he felt like shaking himself like a dog to get out of Bonnie’s aura. He’d been mad to ask her out today. Not just mad. Dangerously insane.

For Bonnie, the view from the restaurant overlooking the volcano at Kintamani took her breath, and thankfully her mind, off the puzzle of the man next to her.

From where she stood overlooking the valley, because the restaurant walkway hung over the cliff, the view presented the huge lake and black scarring of the lava across the valley floor. Great gaping inverted cones up the side of Mt Batur showed the force of the volcanic activity.

‘When was the last eruption?’ She asked the question without looking at him. She didn’t have to turn to know he was right there. Her sensory receptors had warned her.

‘Nineteen ninety-four. One of the earlier ones swallowed the temple at Kintamani village. The western slopes are closed at the moment. The seismological institute thinks there’s risk of further eruptions. Pity. It’s a great walk to the rim for sunrise.’

Bonnie looked through the window into the restaurant at the rice and crêpes waiting, very strange morning tea on offer, and glanced at the view again. ‘What’s the lava like up close?

‘Hard and black. I rode across the whole field on a motorbike years ago and it was like jagged corrugated iron. The locals use it for building and you can see the areas where the lava’s been quarried.’

As a guide he was knowledgeable, though distracting from the view, enthusiastic about local history, just not good at being consistently relaxing, and she couldn’t see much of the yoga student this morning.

Then again, maybe it wasn’t his fault because half an hour later, when she followed the others back to the bus and climbed in, it was Harry’s leg alongside hers that she was waiting for. In fact, she could feel little waves of anticipation building as she sat down.

Disappointingly, this time they didn’t touch. Interesting and a little unacceptable, and she wasn’t quite sure how he managed it. As an experiment she allowed her knee to accidentally knock against his while she looked out the window and there was no doubt he shifted further away.

Definite reversal of the forces of attraction. She’d blotted her copybook somehow. Maybe it was the crack about pregnancy.

On her recent history of foot-in-mouth moments he’d probably lost a car full of children too. She sighed and then shrugged. This was why she didn’t get involved with men. Too complicated and distracting. It was a beautiful day and she was going to enjoy it if it killed her. She smiled to herself. Or him.

Wayan, their guide, had spent the last five minutes of travel explaining about luwak coffee and the main export for the plantation they were about to visit, but Bonnie had faded out.

So when the bus trundled into a dusty car park alongside other decrepit buses all shaded by overhanging trees and vines, she wondered if this was where the bike ride started.

She was thinking about the last man she’d fallen for and how that whole fiasco had poisoned her life. How, foolishly, she’d thought they’d planned the whole wedding thing, the first two years of saving, agreed on children, she’d put her savings with his for the deposit on their dream home.

She’d come home shattered from nursing her gran, vaguely aware she hadn’t paid much attention to him for the last hard few weeks, and when she had come back for the comfort he’d promised—he’d been gone, along with her money. Not that she’d cared about that at that point.

‘And it’s the most expensive coffee in the world.’

Well, she couldn’t afford that. Bonnie zoned in again and followed Wayan through the overhanging forest, listening as he identified coffee in various stages, tree types and fruit, aware of Harry at her shoulder not saying anything.

Finally they came to the cage where the luwak slept, incarcerated. Bonnie looked at Harry and whispered, ‘What the heck is a luwak?’ Harry gestured to Wayan and smiled and she tried to catch up.

‘We leave them for one day in the cage,’ Wayan told them, ‘and then set them free again. It is only so you can see the actual animal. Asian palm civets—also known as luwaks here—normally sleep and hide at the time people visit the plantation.’

They all stared into the dark cage and tried to see the small furry animal, which looked a little like a cat-faced possum or smaller mongoose.

She whispered to Harry, ‘I don’t get it. How does it make coffee?’

He tilted his head and studied her genuine bafflement. A slow smile curved his lips. ‘You weren’t listening.’

‘I might have missed a bit.’ She shrugged.

Harry tilted his head and she could feel his scrutiny. Could feel the heat in her cheeks at his amusement. He was laughing at her—not with her—and she didn’t like it.

‘He’s been talking about it for the last ten minutes.’

‘So?’ She held out her hands, frustrated by his teasing. ‘Tell me now.’

Harry grinned. ‘Luwaks are an alternative to conventional coffee processing. They process the beans internally.’ He grinned again as she shrugged and shook her head, obviously not getting it. ‘You don’t pick the beans off the trees—you follow the luwaks around with a shovel.’

‘They poo it?’ Bonnie blinked. ‘You’re kidding me?’

Harry laughed out loud and suddenly the rapport between them was back in full force. ‘I kid you not.’

He patted her shoulder. ‘You get to try some soon. Luwaks only choose to eat the very best coffee beans, and they have a great internal processing unit that still leaves the coffee bean whole when they’re.’ he paused and grinned again ‘… finished with it.’

Bonnie shook her head. ‘No way.’ When had they discussed this? Had Wayan said that in the bus? How would this be the most expensive coffee in the world?

‘They wash the beans,’ Harry said blandly, but she could see the unholy amusement in his eyes. Just looking at him made her smile and boosted her fragile self-esteem that Jeremy had injured so badly. That was the point when she should have run away.

Bonnie screwed up her face and Harry laughed out loud. ‘Double dare you.’

Drink second-hand coffee beans? ‘I don’t think so.’

‘In the States it sells for more than a hundred bucks a pound. Not something you’ll have a lot of chance to try again.’

True. But who’d want to? She followed Harry through to the coffee tables, where the rest of the group were ordering their coffee, and before she knew it she was sitting beside Harry with a steaming cup of black brew in front of her.

And everyone else seemed to be tasting it. Ew.

She looked around again and the Portuguese girls were chatting up the chefs as they sipped, and everyone still looked happy with their experience.

She was the only one not drinking. Even Harry had his cup.

Bonnie took a cautious sip. ‘It tastes a bit like mocha.’

Harry raised his eyebrows. ‘Is that what that is?’

He could tease. She put her cup down. ‘Well, at least I tried it.’

Harry gave up his short-lived attempt to keep his distance with her. She delighted him with her honesty. She couldn’t hide a single thought with those straightforward eyes of hers. Talk about windows to the soul. They telegraphed every thought and emotion like a green neon sign. Scary, and despite her antsy, prickly little exterior he could feel the need to protect her from the world like a growing seed inside him.