AN INNOCENT IN HIS BED

A virgin—for the taking!

He’s a man who takes whatever he pleases—even if it means bedding an inexperienced young woman….

With his intense good looks, commanding presence and unquestionable power, he’ll carefully charm her and entice her into his bed, where he’ll teach her the ways of love—by giving her the most amazingly sensual night of her life!

Don’t miss any of the exciting stories:

The Cattle Baron’s Virgin Wife

Lindsay Armstrong

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Kathryn Ross

Pregnant by the Italian Count

Christina Hollis

Angelo’s Captive Virgin

India Grey

Only from Harlequin Presents EXTRA!

LINDSAY ARMSTRONG

I was born in South Africa but I’m an Australian citizen now, with a New Zealand-born husband. We had an epic introduction to Australia. We landed in Perth then drove around the “top end” with four kids under the age of eight. There were some marvelous times and wonderful sights, and ever since, we’ve been fascinated by wild Australia. We’ve done quite a bit of exploring of the coastline by boat, including one amazing trip to the Kimberley.

We’ve also farmed and trained racehorses, and after our fifth child was born, I started to write. It was something I’d always wanted to do but never seemed to know how to start. Then one day I sat down at the kitchen table with an abandoned exercise book, suddenly convinced the time had come to stop dreaming about it and start doing it. That book never got published, but it certainly opened the floodgates!

The Cattle Baron’s Virgin Wife

~ AN INNOCENT IN HIS BED ~

Lindsay Armstrong

The Cattle Baron’s Virgin Wife

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER ONE

SIENNA TORRANCE packed her bag and prepared to farewell her patient for another day but Finn McLeod had other ideas.

He watched her out of dark blue moody eyes.

They both wore skin-tight stretch track suits and they were both drenched in sweat. But whereas she bent to zip her bag and straightened to wring out her honey-coloured pony-tail with lithe movements that showed off a compact, leggy figure with delicious hips, he was confined to his wheel chair.

That wasn’t entirely true. On his better days, since a car accident had seriously injured his left leg, he could get about with a walking stick. But Sienna, his physiotherapist, always insisted he use the chair after a session with him. She even made a practice of ceremonially wheeling him out of his private gym back to the house and handing him over to Dave, his nurse, although the chair was motorized.

Not, for that matter, that he needed a nurse now, but Dave was also a trained masseur and he doubled as his valet and driver.

‘Come in and have a drink,’ he said abruptly as she started to push him.

‘Oh, no, thanks, Finn, I do need to be off,’ she replied—she had a fascinating, rather husky voice.

‘Where to? Another patient? It’s nearly six o’clock. A boyfriend?’

Sienna hesitated. ‘No, but it’s been a long day.’

‘Or do you have something against fraternizing with me?’

Sienna grimaced as she manoeuvred the chair down a ramp and outside to a path that ran between thick, rich green lawns and riotously colourful flower beds. There were bees humming, birds calling and butterflies hovering.

It would be hard to find a lovelier property than hilltop Eastwood, she thought as they approached the main house. It followed the Queensland tradition of wide, covered verandas, steep roofs and double outside doors to capture the breeze, but rather than being wooden it was built of honey-coloured sandstone with a sage-green roof. It also had marvellous views down to the Brisbane River.

‘I don’t fraternize with patients,’ she said carefully. ‘Nothing personal!’ she added on an upward beat. ‘I’m also a working girl with a million things to do.’

‘If you don’t come in for a drink and a chat,’ he said ominously, ‘I’ll put this chair on auto and drive myself into the river.’

Sienna stopped pushing and slammed a brake on. ‘Finn,’ she said quietly, however, after taking a deep breath, ‘don’t be silly. Look, I know how frustrating this must be. But you’ve done so well, I’m full of admiration for you! And the end is in sight now.’

It was true, she did admire Finn McLeod for his pain-filled perseverance towards regaining his mobility after the tragic accident that had claimed the life of his fiancée.

She’d rarely seen such will-power, and she had seen him often with his knuckles white and his teeth almost driven through his bottom lip as he’d doggedly pursued his rehabilitation.

She’d also acknowledged that through all this, he was still dynamically attractive even when he could be cutting and moody. Not that, for professional reasons, she’d ever allowed herself to dwell on it. Anyway, she regarded herself as fireproof when it came to men.

‘Silly?’ he reflected. ‘I’ve got a business proposition to put to you, Ms Torrance, so I don’t see anything silly about it at all.’

Sienna stared down at the top of his head. His thick dark hair was tousled and damp. She frowned. ‘What kind of a business proposition could there possibly be between us?’

‘You’re going to have to wheel me on to find out.’

Sienna clicked her tongue in annoyance. She was used to humouring men, she often turned down outrageous propositions with a kind but funny retort, but it was the last thing she’d expected from Finn McLeod. What else could it be, though?

‘Tell me now, Finn, then I’ll be the judge of whether I have a drink with you or not,’ she said coolly.

She saw his shoulders lift as if he was laughing inwardly.

Some minutes later, she was sitting on the veranda with a soft drink in a tall glass in front of her and he had his longed-for beer. There was a silver dish of olives and nuts on the table between them.

The drinks had been served by a middle-aged man he’d introduced as Walt the butler. They were now alone.

‘Let me get this straight,’ Sienna said. ‘You want me to come out west with you so we can continue your treatment on a—on a cattle station?’ She blinked several times, she had grey eyes and naturally dark lashes.

‘Yep.’ Finn McLeod sipped his beer.

‘But why do you need to bury yourself—’ she broke off and bit her lip because he hadn’t that long ago buried his fiancée, ‘—uh—need to be on a cattle station out west anyway?’

He eyed her, then looked around. ‘I’m going crazy up here. I need a change of scene. I was born out there and I like it.’

‘Has it occurred to you that I only spend a couple of hours a day with you? That I might go insane on a cattle station for weeks on end? Or, that you most probably don’t have any of the equipment needed? Not only that but you’ll be away from your doctor.’

He shrugged. ‘I’ve got his go-ahead and I can fly him out if necessary. Ditto all the equipment—there’s already a gym and there’s a pool.’

Sienna sank back and took the first sip of her soft drink; it was delicious, a blend of mango and orange with a dash of mint. Her thoughts were slightly bitter, however.

The McLeod family, now headed by Finn, was extremely wealthy and had diversified from cattle into many areas. She’d never doubted that, it was well known, as were some other facts about the dynasty.

Finn’s parents had divorced and his father had remarried. The new Mrs McLeod, Laura, had presented Finn’s father, Michael, with another son, eight years Finn’s junior. The first Mrs McLeod had, according to popular belief, never recovered from the divorce and pined away. Some years later Michael and Laura had been killed in a plane crash. The pilot had been Michael’s brother, Finn’s uncle Bradley, who had perished too.

Alice, Finn and Declan’s aunt on their father’s side, had brought the boys up.

So it was a colourful dynasty with a tragic background, now added to after that terrible car crash when a drunken driver had ploughed into them and his fiancée had been thrown clear but killed instantly and Finn had been trapped in the car. But that didn’t alter the fact Sienna found herself somewhat annoyed that Finn McLeod could virtually wave a magic wand to achieve his goals and, on top of that, expect everyone to jump to his tune.

‘I’m sorry—’ she started to say, but he intervened.

‘As for your spare time, I happen to know that the Augathella Hospital would be more than happy to have the extra services of a fully-trained physiotherapist to call on for a few weeks.’

She stared at him incredulously. ‘How do you know that?’

He raised an ironic eyebrow. ‘I checked it out with them. The hospital is not that far, as the crow flies, from Waterford.’

Waterford was the principal cattle station in the McLeod crown.

Sienna licked her lips. ‘I do work, you know. I’m employed by a consultancy so, apart from anything else, they would not be too happy for me to disappear beyond the black stump for several weeks. I do have other patients.’

‘Your boss is quite happy for you to do it.’

Sienna put her glass down with something of a rap. ‘Now look here, Finn, that’s going too far! How dare you do all this behind my back?’

He shrugged. ‘Just thought I’d clear the decks of any unnecessary objections you might be likely to make.’

‘Well, that may be how you do business but—’

‘It is,’ he drawled. ‘You’d be amazed how successful it usually is. Look—’ he sat forward ‘—it’s actually a feather in your cap. When I discussed it with your senior partner, he told me that you were establishing a growing reputation in accident rehabilitation therapy. I told him I could believe it, you certainly seemed to be working wonders for me and that’s why I want you and no one else.’

Sienna blinked, then frowned. ‘A feather in my cap? I would call it something else. A subtle way of twisting my arm and, I’m sorry, but I’m not going to do it.’

‘Why?’

She regarded him for several moments. His glossy dark hair was still tousled, there were blue shadows on his jaw, he had a decisive mouth and a tapering chin. It was a memorable face—she thought suddenly that she’d probably remember it for a long time—and it was accompanied by a memorable physique. Finn McLeod was six feet four, broad-shouldered, narrow-hipped, long-legged and what had undoubtedly helped him along his path to rehabilitation was the fact that he’d been in prime physical shape when the accident had happened.

Why not? she thought. Yes, he was the kind of man many women would wonder about, but she didn’t have that problem, did she? So was she worried about his motivation? Because she’d been well taught to be on guard against patient attachment where you became the focus of their lives?

But, from his point of view, was this the same thing or simply the machinations of a wealthy man entirely too used to getting his own way? Much more likely, she suspected.

‘Finn,’ she said slowly and choosing her words with care, ‘any good physiotherapist could have done what I’ve done. Actually, you’ve done it. It’s been your will-power. You don’t need me, per se.’

‘Afraid I’m falling in love with you?’ he queried.

Sienna took an unexpected breath, then narrowed her eyes. ‘Are you?’

‘No.’ He put his glass down and stretched. ‘When you’ve had the best—no insult intended, Sienna—and lost it, you probably don’t ever expect it to happen again.’

Sienna stared at him, frowning again. She couldn’t take issue with the “best” tag because Holly Pearson, his fiancée, had been, in a word, glorious—and not only to look at. She’d taken the country by storm as a TV weather presenter, then become a TV personality in her own right, frequently appearing on talk shows and capturing audiences with her zany humour and her warmth.

But had Sienna detected a tinge of something she didn’t understand in Finn McLeod’s voice, something at variance with his words like the prick of a pin you hadn’t known was there? Or had it been the bitterness he still felt about losing Holly? Of course, that had to be it, she thought and felt a rush of compassion for him.

‘Are you?’

Sienna came out of her thoughts and looked at him. ‘Am I what?’

‘Falling in love with me?’

Her eyes widened and her lips parted. ‘Have I ever given you the slightest reason to think that, Finn McLeod?’ she retorted.

‘On the contrary.’ He grimaced. ‘Although that doesn’t precisely answer the question but, anyway, what is the problem?’

Sienna shot him a dark look. ‘I don’t like being manipulated. I resent the fact that you imagine I can just drop everything at a moment’s notice—’

‘A week.’

She waved a hand dismissively. ‘I—’

‘Look, think it over, Sienna. You can let me know tomorrow.’

She opened her mouth, then shrugged, finished her drink and got up to go. ‘All right, but I don’t imagine I’ll change my mind. You should shower and change now. I’ll call Dave.’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ he said meekly enough, but his dark blue eyes were full of satirical amusement.

Sienna swished her pony-tail and walked away.

She shopped for fresh fruit and vegetables on the way home.

Her apartment was small but pleasant, a second-floor flat in a two-storey building in the suburb of Red Hill, perched on the northern rim of the city.

It had cool tiled floors, white walls and all mod cons, but the broad balcony was her favourite spot. It was fitted with sliding insect screens, and had grand views of the city below. She had a table and chairs on it and a bevy of flowering pot-plants as well as an array of herbs—she loved growing things.

For the rest of her flat, she’d kept her decorating fairly minimalist to suit the climate. There was a sumptuous corn gold settee and two plain cane chairs in the lounge with moulded Perspex side tables. On one of the white walls she’d hung a large, lovely print of a girl walking on a beach at sunrise beside a calm, shining sea that seemed to draw you into its cool, tinted waters.

A beaten silver urn found in a market in Malaysia stood on her teak television cabinet and on the wall in her small hall a wonderful painting of three elephants, drawn as children might but delicately coloured and captivating all the same, greeted visitors. She’d found it in Thailand.

She’d found her garnet and sapphire rug on the lounge floor in Turkey.

Not bad, she often thought, for a girl who’d moved to Brisbane two years ago at a rather traumatic time in her life.

And now, at twenty-six, she’d had four years of practising as a fully-fledged physiotherapist, and, yes, it was true, she was beginning to make her mark in accident rehabilitation therapy.

She credited this with a genuine love of her job, plus the fact that she was “fancy-free”, to use an old-fashioned term, so she could give it her all.

Why she was fancy-free was something she rarely thought about these days. Her life was pleasant, she was able to take overseas holidays and she spent what free time she had doing things she enjoyed. She played golf, she was a movie buff and she belonged to a gourmet cooking club. Her social life wasn’t exactly a whirlwind, but she had a circle of friends she saw regularly.

That it should all come crashing down, that pleasant life, the same evening Finn McLeod had put his troublesome business proposition to her, seemed to be the height of irony, but that was what happened.

She juggled her purchases, her bag and the mail she’d retrieved, while she unlocked her door.

She got inside and dropped the mail. She left it on the floor while she put her stuff away and brewed herself a cup of tea. Only then did she retrieve the mail and flick through it as she sank down onto the settee.

It was a fine-quality embossed envelope with a Melbourne postmark that caused her heart to sink like a stone. She recognized the handwriting; her sister’s. She knew in her bones that it was a wedding invitation.

That was exactly what slipped out as she slit the envelope: a silver and white card plus a handwritten note. The card had the names Dakota and James curved around wedding bells.

The note said:

Sienna, we’ve finally agreed to do it. For your sake I fought this as hard as I could, please believe me when I say that, but James and I, well, it just wouldn’t go away. I know it’s short notice but I feel as if I’ve been dithering for an eternity—please, please could you be happy for us? And PLEASE could you come to the wedding? Not only for me but Mum and Dad, this is tearing them apart too. Love, your sister Dakota.

Sienna let the note flutter to the coffee-table and despite her distress, couldn’t help the faint smile that often curved her lips as she thought of their names, Dakota and Sienna. Her parents were self-confessed hippies of days gone by. They’d roamed the world and seen nothing odd about naming their daughters after the places of their conception.

Now, of course, they were pillars of society and would no doubt be planning a society wedding for their younger daughter, Dakota.

She picked up the card and checked the wedding date as well as the venues—yes, definitely society. Of course James Haig was not un-society himself. He was now a successful stockbroker in the family firm, an old and respected name in the business.

But the crux of the matter was that she herself had been all but engaged to James Haig when her sister had come home from a year overseas, and he’d fallen head over heels in love with Dakota.

Sienna closed her eyes and laid her head back wearily. She had no desire to put herself through all the agony of it again, all the unanswered questions—had he ever loved her, what had he really felt for her? All the bitterness she’d felt towards her sister who couldn’t help being just, well, Dakota and enchanting.

Her younger sister come to that. Why she should find that galling was an embarrassment to her—what difference did it make to anything? It did, though. On top of being spurned, rejected, on top of the baffling enigma of how close she might have come to marrying a man who didn’t love her—how could he have?—it made her feel old and spinsterish.

For crying out aloud, she thought, as some tears slid down her cheeks, she’d even given them her blessing and retreated gracefully. Yes, perhaps it was a self-imposed exile that might have hurt Dakota, had certainly hurt her parents, but what more could she have done? And now they expected her to go to the wedding…

Her mobile phone rang. She checked the number—her mother. I should have expected that, she thought, and was tempted to leave the call unanswered, but in the end she didn’t. There was no point, she was going to have to discuss it with one or the other of them some time.

‘Hi, Mum! How’s it going? I’ve just got the wedding invitation.’ She crossed her fingers. ‘I’m really happy for James and Dakota but, look…’ she paused and found her eyes drawn to the date on the invitation rather like a magnet ‘…unfortunately I’ll be away on a cattle station out west with a patient.’

Ten minutes later she put down the phone and hugged herself distraughtly.

Her mother had given her to understand that it would break Dakota’s heart if she didn’t attend the wedding, not to mention her parents’ hearts.

What about my heart? Sienna asked herself. What about the fact that I’d fully expected to be married now and maybe starting a family with a man I—I thought I was head over heels in love with?

On the other hand, why do I feel so bad about refusing to go to this wedding? About using a trumped-up excuse—I have no intention of burying myself on a cattle station with Finn McLeod, do I?

Her phone rang again. She snatched it up and was about to turn it off when she saw the number—her boss, the senior partner of the consultancy she worked for, Peter Bannister.

Well, she wanted to talk to him, didn’t she? ‘Hello, Peter,’ she said rather crisply. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘Sienna, how are you? Look—’ he didn’t wait for a reply ‘—I would really take it as a favour if you agreed to go to Waterford with Finn McLeod…’

Five minutes later Sienna ended the call and stared at the phone with an inclination to scream with frustration.

Peter Bannister, it turned out, was a friend of the McLeod family. He’d been away on extended leave, otherwise he would have taken on Finn’s rehabilitation himself. By the time he’d returned, he’d reassured himself that Sienna was coping admirably so he’d decided to let things stand. But now, he’d said, he could sense that Finn was really frustrated—it often happened even though the end might be in sight—and he needed a change of scene.

Peter had then gone on to enumerate the virtues of Waterford. Don’t expect a tin shack, it’s anything but, it even has a nine hole golf course—did you know Finn was a keen golfer before the accident?

Yes, she did, they’d often talked golf.

Well, then, Peter had continued, the Augathella Hospital could use her temporary services, he could arrange a locum situation and those outback areas were often crying out for health professionals.

Then he’d added what he obviously thought was a humorous little bit about how suited she was to do this—no hubby, no kids, no bedridden mums or dads, no pets so far as he knew, only pot-plants and they could be looked after—and that there was no one else in the practice as equally unencumbered. She was the only one who could do it, in other words.

Sienna, at the end of it, had swallowed several times and refused to allow herself to burst into tears. There was no way Peter could know the dreadful irony of what he’d said at this precise moment in her life.

Then she’d opened her mouth to say that she detected the heavy hand of Finn McLeod at work, which actually annoyed the life out of her, but she hadn’t said it.

She’d promised to think it over.

This time she sat back exhaustedly as she put the phone down—and tried to think it over.

Peter Bannister was far too ethical to hold it against her if she didn’t go. But he’d been very good to her in lots of ways. He’d been happy to be available when she’d needed professional advice. Come to that his wife, Melissa, had found her this apartment and they’d both taken her under their wing while she found her feet in Brisbane. For Peter’s sake, she’d like to do it but…

Of course, she could always do both, she thought suddenly. Surely there could be no objection to her taking a weekend off to go to her sister’s wedding?

It just so happens I don’t want to do either, she thought miserably. Yes, I like Finn, as much as I know him—how well do I know him?

Not a lot, really, she conceded.

Because just as much as she’d kept certain barriers up, kept things professional between them, she’d been helped by the fact that he’d had his own barriers.

Yes, they’d talked golf, they’d talked about all sorts of things in the hours she’d worked with him and encouraged him, but it had all been surface stuff. She had not run into this kind of brick wall side of him. This determination to get his own way.

Perhaps I should have guessed it, though, she reflected with a grimace. His progress has been little short of amazing. Maybe I should have realized what kind of personality lay behind that tremendous will-power?

As for her sister’s wedding, surely she’d killed all hope stone-dead that it was going to blow over and James would come back to her?

She wouldn’t have him back, anyway.

But—she closed her eyes and put her knuckles to her mouth—had her mother and her sister no conception of what it would be like to appear at the wedding amongst a lot of people who, no doubt, knew the background? To be the recipient of curious glances, to have to pretend that she didn’t care, she was over it, she wished them happy.

Do they think it will bring me closure? she wondered. Do they think we are a family—we used to be a really happy family—and that’s paramount? Do they even think I need a catalyst of some kind to help me put it all behind me? Heaven alone knows, they could be right!

But, on top of all that, and this is really trivial, but it’s still a barb I can’t ignore, do they understand how hard it will be to do while I’m still single and unattached? On the shelf, in other words.

She rubbed her face and thought with a tinge of black humour—maybe I could hire an escort? But where does one find a truly impressive escort? Otherwise it could be worse than being alone…

The name that sprang to mind caused her mouth to drop open and her eyes almost to stand out on stalks.

No, she thought immediately. Oh, no—she even laughed a little and told herself not to be stupid as she knocked the idea stone-cold.

The next morning, however, when it popped up again, she told herself she’d been press-ganged and goaded enough into making her own terms without even stopping to think how it could backfire on her. And that was the only reason she’d allowed it see the light of day.

CHAPTER TWO

‘COME to a decision, Sienna?’

They were in Finn’s study at Eastwood. They hadn’t had their session yet—he’d been delayed so Walt had shown her into the study and provided coffee.

Finn had just put the phone down and he continued, ‘I really need to know today.’ That, and his earlier question, were the first words he’d spoken to her.

They eyed each other. While she was wearing a track suit and joggers he was more formally dressed in navy trousers and a blue and white pin-striped shirt. He looked every inch a powerful businessman; he didn’t look to be in a good mood.

‘Why? What difference does a day or two make?’ Sienna replied. ‘Incidentally—hi! How are you?’

‘I’m sorry, that wasn’t very polite,’ he acknowledged. ‘But I have quite a bit on my plate today,’ he added briefly.

‘So do I. Obviously not the weight of the McLeod empire, but enough.’

Those dark blue eyes narrowed on her as Finn McLeod took in the shadows beneath her eyes, indicative of a miserably sleepless night.

‘Aren’t you well?’ he asked abruptly. ‘You know, a break on a cattle station could do you the world of good. Or…’ he paused significantly ‘…are you such an all-luxury-dependent city girl, the country terrifies you?’ There was a wealth of derision in his eyes.

She drew a tumultuous breath, exhaled audibly, then said quite calmly, ‘No, it doesn’t. However, you’re not the only one with an agenda, Finn. I have my own so I’m prepared to bargain with you. I’ll come to Waterford if you’ll agree to be my escort to my sister’s wedding.’

Her first reaction when she’d finished speaking was, Got you, Finn McLeod!—as his jaw dropped and he stared at her incredulously.

Her next reaction was—what had she been thinking? What had she done?

He closed his mouth and said, ‘I think you better explain.’

She went hot and cold. Colour flooded her cheeks, then left her looking pale and mortified. ‘I—uh—disregard that, Finn, it—sort of came out in the heat of the moment and—’

‘No. Tell me, Sienna,’ he ordered.

She swallowed and wished herself a million miles away.

‘Sienna,’ he warned, ‘I won’t let up until you do.’

She closed her eyes frustratedly, then sighed and told him as clinically as she could. It was only at the end of her explanation that she got emotional.

She said, ‘Funnily enough, I don’t want to be estranged from my family, I do want Dakota to be happy but the final humiliation—’ sudden tears blurred her eyes ‘—would be to be there amongst them on my own and still, obviously, on the shelf.’

He hadn’t interrupted once and all he said when she pulled out a hanky and blew her nose was, ‘Dakota?’

Sienna smiled shakily and explained. ‘As kids we used to thank our lucky stars we weren’t conceived in Timbuktu or Harare. We had a whole alphabet of weird place names we could have ended up with.’

‘I see what you mean.’ He looked humorous, then sobered. ‘But why me?’

‘When this bizarre thought literally popped into my head,’ she said ruefully, ‘that maybe I should hire an escort, my next thought was that it would have to be someone really impressive otherwise it could even be worse!’ She shrugged. ‘I couldn’t, at that moment, come up with anyone more impressive than you. But I never intended to—’ She stopped.

‘So what do you think made you say it?’

She stared at him and a little flame kindled in her eyes as she forgot about herself and thought about him.

‘Finn, you’ve been really high-handed and arrogant about this. You’ve gone to my boss behind my back, he’s been on the phone to me and the net result is that I’ll feel bad if I don’t do this on his account, not yours, but all the same,’ she insisted, ‘so—you’ve even gone to the Augathella Hospital behind my back!’

He looked amused.

‘All right, maybe that’s not so serious—’ she waved an exasperated hand ‘—but you have been extremely manipulative and I got mad but—’

‘I’ll come.’

‘But—’ Sienna stopped as if shot. ‘Oh, look, I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I mean, it sounded all very well, throwing down my own gauntlet in the heat of the moment, but that’s essentially what it was.’

‘Sienna,’ he said dangerously, ‘let’s keep it simple—if you come to Waterford, I’ll go to the wedding with you.’

‘But—’

‘Sienna,’ he growled.

‘All right. Thank you. I mean—’ her shoulders slumped ‘—at least you’ve made my mother’s day.’

‘Why?’ she said suddenly about an hour later.

They were in the pool doing floatation exercises.

It was a warm, muggy Brisbane day; the humidity of semi-tropical Brisbane was something Sienna wondered if she’d ever get used to. So it was pleasant to be in the pool surrounded by the gardens of Eastwood.

She wore a hat and dark glasses and a sleek navy Speedo. She was anointed with sunscreen, and she’d broken off her instructions suddenly to ask her question.

Finn lay suspended in the fluorescent blue water on his back, then he flipped over and paddled to the side. He pushed his wet hair out of his eyes and studied her for a long moment. ‘You may not want to know why.’

‘Yes, I do,’ she insisted.

He shrugged. His shoulders were broad and tanned and powerful and the only blemishes on his body were several scars from the accident and the operations he had had to have on his leg—in that respect he’d been amazingly lucky, no facial scars at all. ‘It all sounded rather like a cry for help.’

Sienna flinched.

‘It also sounded as if you had no one else to call on. Being dumped in favour of your little sister would no doubt account for that, although isn’t two years a fair while to be carrying a torch?’

‘In two years’ time, you may find you have to ask yourself that same question, Finn,’ she said quietly.

‘Touché.’ He rubbed his jaw. ‘Well, something like that. Incidentally, I had been advised you had no ties and seemed determined to stay that way, so I wasn’t quite as high-handed as you imagined.’

Sienna sank down to her sunglasses and came up spluttering. ‘Peter, I suppose!’ she said indignantly.

He nodded.

Sienna said something highly uncomplimentary as she called the wrath of God down on Peter Bannister, all men for that matter, and possibly even Melissa Bannister with her kind but gossipy ways.

‘If you’re imagining I’m all droopy and sad, I’m not.’

‘No.’ He shook his head and his lips quirked. ‘The opposite if anything. A bundle of energy and intelligence, actually. But I can’t help wondering if you see yourself as turned off men for the duration?’ There was something curiously intent in the way he watched her.

‘Yes and no,’ she said slowly. ‘I guess, as much as anything, it’s my own judgement that’s a bit of a worry.’ She smiled humourlessly and rippled the surface of the water with her fingers. ‘Then again, while you obviously can’t condemn all men because of one man’s erratic emotions, to be honest—’ this time her smile was genuine although wry ‘—it’s hard not to sometimes.’

‘So have you thought about the rest of your life in this context? Marriage? Children?’

Sienna bit her lip. ‘Yes,’ she said quietly. ‘I love kids, I think I’ve done some of my best work with children, but I can’t see myself falling madly in love again so—’ she looked away and her voice was a little clogged as she went on ‘—I don’t know.’

‘Where is this wedding and when?’

She told him. ‘You should, at the rate you’re going, be pretty mobile.’

‘Glory be,’ he said dryly.

‘Look,’ Sienna said carefully, ‘I feel really bad now, Finn. I mean, a wedding, after—after what happened to you, might be the last thing you want to go to.’ She stopped and sighed. ‘I just didn’t think. So I’ll come to Waterford but you don’t have to come to the wedding—I’d quite understand.’

‘Sienna—’ his eyes were laughing at her although he spoke gravely ‘—you surprise me. I would never have taken you for such a mass of indecision.’

‘I’m not, usually.’ She took her hat off, splashed some water on her head and repositioned the hat. ‘My mother rang me yesterday—that’s really wheeling in the heavy guns—and I don’t seem to have known if I was on my head or my heels ever since!’

He laughed openly. ‘I’ll come.’

‘Are you sure?’ She eyed him anxiously.

‘I’m sure.’

Sienna pulled herself out of the pool, entirely unaware, as she had her back to him, how he studied her sleek slender figure as water streamed off her. Then she turned round and planted her hands on her hips.

‘But…’ she began—and couldn’t go on as she realized she seemed to be under a rather particular scrutiny from her patient.

And indeed, high, perfect little breasts with delicious peaks, Finn McLeod found himself thinking as he gazed up at her, not to mention those tantalizing hips. What kind of a mix would his no-nonsense physiotherapist with that desirable figure be in bed?

‘But…’ Sienna said again—and again couldn’t seem to go on.

Finn grimaced and swam out into the middle of the pool. ‘I am coming to your sister’s wedding, Ms Torrance, that’s final.’

Sienna decided not to call her mother that night. She still couldn’t quite believe Finn McLeod would accompany her to Dakota’s wedding, or that she should let him. So she thought she’d wait a day or two before breaking the news. She was still curiously perturbed by those moments beside the pool when she’d completely lost the thread of what she’d been going to say!

Her mother had other ideas, however. She rang Sienna from a private line so the number wasn’t displayed on the mobile screen.

Sienna answered a bit distractedly as she cooked a pasta dish for her dinner. ‘Hello, Sienna Torrance here.’

‘I know, darling,’ her mother’s voice said down the line. ‘I’m afraid I’ve been a bit sneaky. This is not my phone. I didn’t want you to know it was me in case you didn’t want to talk to me.’

‘Mum—’ Sienna felt a shaft of guilt as she put the phone on its stand and turned on the loudspeaker ‘—of course not.’ She drizzled the pasta with garlic butter and freshly chopped herbs. ‘I—’

‘But I just wanted to tell you again that I know it would be difficult for you to come to the wedding. Please don’t think I—we’re being thoughtless and only thinking of Dakota, although she is miserable and—’

‘Mum,’ Sienna broke in as she scooped some pine nuts into her pasta, ‘it’s OK. I’ve been able to get a weekend off for the wedding, but could I bring someone with me?’

‘Who?’

‘Well, a friend—’

‘A man?’

‘Yes, he is.’ Sienna deployed a pasta spoon on the mixture.

‘Oh, my darling,’ her mother breathed, ‘of course you can! Who is he? Tell me about him. You haven’t ever mentioned him, but you must know him pretty well if you want to bring him to Dakota’s wedding! Is he nice? Of course he would be! Is he good-looking?’

Sienna abandoned the spoon and closed her eyes. ‘Mum, we’re just…friends.’

‘What’s his name?’

Sienna hesitated, then said reluctantly, ‘Finn McLeod.’

‘Not—not those McLeods?’

‘Yes, but—now listen to me, Mum, I don’t want you to tell a soul otherwise I won’t come. It’s—we’re just friends.’

‘Your secret is perfectly safe with me,’ her mother said with a tinge of reproach, but added immediately, ‘That’s wonderful news. I’m so happy for you! Oh, darling, I have to go, I borrowed this mobile phone and it’s blinking red lights at me now. I think the battery may be going but we’ll talk soon…’

Her mother’s voice faded away.

Sienna switched off her phone, then banged her head against the corkboard on the kitchen wall, twice.

How could her pleasant if uneventful life have turned into such a minefield in the space of twenty-four hours?

I’ll tell you, she told herself grimly. Pride. And little white lies.

Then she sniffed and realized her pasta was burning. She turned the plate off, pushed the pan away, suddenly not hungry in the slightest. She poured herself a glass of white wine, which she took outside onto the balcony.

Dusk was drawing in and it was cooler but still humid. A family of squeakers, raucous, bright-eyed, inquisitive little birds, was settling down in a grevillea tree that clung to the slope below the building. The creamy cone-shaped grevillea flower heads with their delicate tendrils glowed almost candlelike in the gathering gloom.

But what occupied her mind was the distinct possibility that Finn McLeod could shortly find his name linked to one Sienna Torrance, whether he liked it or not.

So what do I do about that? she wondered.

Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? I have to nip this in the bud. No more pride, no more little white lies, and the sooner the better.

It was Walt who admitted her to Eastwood an hour later and showed her into the den.

Finn was sitting on a settee watching cricket on a large-screen television. There was a coffee-pot and two cups on a table in front of him. He wore a white cotton shirt and cargo pants. His cane was leaning against the settee beside him.

‘Sienna,’ he murmured in a way that she couldn’t identify as welcoming or unwelcoming—actually quite noncommittal, she decided, and flinched inwardly.

He also took his time about looking her over.

She’d changed after making the phone call to ask if she could come and see him, into a silky lemon blouse tucked into indigo jeans. Her hair, straight and shoulder-length and usually tied back in a pony-tail, was loose and naturally streaked light and darker honey-gold, and held back by a silver slide on one side.

For some reason, his appraisal of her caused her to look down at herself, but she couldn’t see anything wrong with her outfit and she looked up and into his eyes with a faint frown.

He shrugged. ‘It’s the first time I’ve seen you out of track suits, swimmers and pony-tails. You scrub up well.’

She blinked and a ghost of humour lit his eyes.

‘Believe me,’ he murmured.

‘I—thank you. So do you, for that matter.’ She drew a deep breath. ‘Finn, I’m really sorry about coming to see you like this, but it is Friday, so I wouldn’t have seen you until Monday in the normal course of events and it wouldn’t be easy to do over the phone.’

‘That’s OK. Sit down and pour the coffee,’ he invited. ‘Something’s come up?’ he hazarded.

‘Yes, my mother,’ Sienna said exasperatedly and poured the coffee before she went on, sitting adjacent to him in an armchair. ‘Please believe me when I say I love my mother dearly, but this is what happened.’ And she recounted the recent conversation she’d had with her mother.

At the end he raised an eyebrow and said, ‘So?’

‘Well, not only is she convinced—because it’s what she wants to believe!—that you and I are—’ She paused.

‘Lovers?’ he suggested.

‘Oh, well—oh, well, on the way to it anyway—’ Sienna looked discomforted ‘—but—only in her happiness for me!—it’s quite possible she won’t be able to keep it a secret.’

Finn sat up and reached for his coffee-cup, but before he took a sip he said, with obvious amusement, ‘What a tangled web we weave—and I guess you know the rest of it.’

‘Exactly,’ Sienna responded with some urgency. ‘And because it’s you, it could get out of hand. The press could get onto it. Come to that, even without my mother—why didn’t I think of this sooner?—just your being at the wedding with me could spark all sorts of speculation!’

‘How terrifying,’ he remarked, causing Sienna to blink at him again.

‘You mean you—wouldn’t mind?’ She stared at him, round-eyed.

‘I never take any notice of the press in those circumstances,’ he drawled. ‘Besides, isn’t that the object of the exercise—to have your family and friends of the opinion you aren’t on the shelf?’

‘But—after what happened to you—and it’s not that long ago…’ She stopped and steepled her fingertips, rapping them together lightly. ‘I really don’t feel I could do that to you.’

He watched her tapping fingers for a moment. ‘Well, I appreciate that, Sienna,’ he said almost lazily, ‘but you don’t have to worry about me. I can take care of myself.’

Sienna discovered herself to be counting beneath her breath, but she’d only got to three when she burst out frustratedly, ‘What do I have to do to get you not to come to this wedding?’

‘If you hadn’t brought it up in the first place, that might have helped. Besides, you’ve been a real inspiration to me, and it seems like one small way I could repay you.’

She opened her mouth, but closed it because nothing—coherent at least—would come out.

‘Anyway,’ Finn McLeod continued reasonably, ‘do you want this family turmoil of yours to continue?’

‘No, of course not—’ She broke off abruptly.

‘Do you want him back?’

‘No! Definitely not!’

‘Then this is one way to get a reunion over and done with. It’s one way to allow your sister to ride off happily into the sunset.’

‘But it’s a farce all the same!’

‘You know, my dear…’ he paused and studied her thoughtfully ‘…sometimes sticking to the straight and narrow truth-wise may be all very well—but it can also be a kind of self-righteousness that’s self-defeating.’

She gazed at him with her lips parted.

He smiled faintly. ‘You don’t want him back, you don’t want to be at odds with your family, you particularly don’t want to feel like a wall-flower at this wedding so—’

‘Don’t go on,’ Sienna interrupted stiffly.

He grimaced and rubbed his jaw.

‘I feel awful now,’ she continued. ‘Really awful. Proud, insufferably priggish—’

He laughed aloud. ‘Sienna, it was your idea in the first place! I’m just telling you I think it was a good one and a fitting exchange for all you’ve done for me.’

‘I—see.’ She couldn’t think of anything else to say.

‘So it’s a deal? No more doubts?’

‘It’s a deal,’ she said slowly.

In bed that night, Sienna found she was puzzled.

She and Finn had finished their coffee companionably as they’d watched the cricket, an exciting one-day international match. In fact so companionable had it been, she’d stayed to the end of the match.

But, as the overhead fan revolved above her bed, she found herself trying to sum Finn McLeod up in the light of recent events, only to decide he was still something of an enigma.

Yes, his decision to come to the wedding was a gesture she had to appreciate. Yes, he was good company with a rather dry sense of humour that she appreciated. Yes, she’d certainly spent a lot of time with him over the last few months so they did have a rapport of a kind and she was able to read him in some ways.

For example, although they didn’t happen often, she’d learnt to identify his bad days just by looking at him. Days when he was pale and moody, haunted almost—and who wouldn’t be after what he’d gone through? And she’d adjusted her responses accordingly to purely businesslike.

But it was hard to shake the feeling that he was—how to describe it?—a cool customer, and despite the quid pro quo he’d agreed to as a way of repaying her for what she’d done for him, why did she still feel there was something going on she didn’t understand?

She reached above her and turned the fan to a higher speed, and closed her eyes as the faster air wafted over her skin. She did have an air-conditioning unit but she hated sleeping with the windows closed and in the air-conditioning.

What on earth could be going on, though? she wondered. And why did she have this feeling? Because she had genuinely thought, when she’d stopped to think about it, that a wedding would be the last thing he’d want to go to after his own wedding plans had been so tragically destroyed.

Because, she mused, she had thought that to have his name linked to another woman, even falsely, should not appeal to him after those same tragic events.

Yet he’d been totally relaxed about it all. Or did that mean Finn McLeod had shut himself off, put his emotions on ice, in other words, because it was the only way he could cope?

Finn had no reservations about taking advantage of air-conditioning to get a good night’s sleep, but even in the cool, climate-controlled atmosphere of the master bedroom of Eastwood he was having trouble sleeping that night.

Of course, there was something else he could take advantage of, a sleeping pill, but he had grave reservations about becoming dependent on them, so he didn’t.

And things were improving. The pain in his leg was gradually diminishing, he was getting more and more mobile, the terrible tearing, crashing nightmares were less frequent.

The twisted remains of his life were another matter, however.

And there was this mysterious urge he’d succumbed to, to force his physiotherapist to come to Waterford with him.

His lips twisted as he recalled Sienna’s desperate indecision after flinging down her own gauntlet in the heat of the moment. But, if anything, it reinforced his belief that she was a thoroughly nice person.

She was also attractive in her own quiet way. She was certainly capable, intelligent and, as he’d told her, a bundle of energy. She was pleasant company.

Did that justify his behaviour, though?

He stirred restlessly. It was true that he was feeling frustrated and needed a change of scene. It was true enough that he thought she’d worked wonders for him whatever she might like to think to the contrary, although it was hard to pinpoint exactly how she’d done it. A born carer? he wondered. With a knack for people and a passion for getting them moving again? Possibly.

So why was he feeling guilty now?

It made sense for him not to want to swap horses midstream, so to speak, but was that all that was behind it?

Sienna continued her work with Finn throughout the next week, and discovered again that he could be “difficult”, as she thought of it.

It all came about over her refusal—at first, that was—to agree to him discarding his stick.

They finished their session in the gym—a late session as it happened, to fit in with a meeting he’d had earlier—but he refused point-blank to be pushed back to the house in his chair.

‘I’ve also decided I don’t need the stick any more,’ he stated.

‘Finn, don’t be silly!’ She stared at him.

‘You said that to me once before, but there was nothing silly about that either,’ he countered, his eyes dark and moody again. ‘Have you any idea what it feels like to be tottering around on a stick? Or pushed about by a slip of a girl?’

‘Of course I do! Not that it matters who does the pushing, I would have thought!’

‘Yes, it does,’ he stated. ‘It makes me feel about a hundred years old and useless.’

Sienna took a breath and counted to three. ‘You’d probably really feel a hundred years old if you fell over and broke something. All right—’ she came to a sudden decision ‘—no more chair but it’s quite—quite childish to do away with your stick.’ She drew herself up to her full five feet six inches and stared at him with the authority she seldom had to use with patients.

It didn’t work.

He grinned fleetingly and said quite gently, ‘Ms Torrance, you may insult me all you like, but you cannot stop me.’ He turned away and started to walk out.

Sienna muttered something beneath her breath as she watched his retreating figure, then, ‘I can take myself off your case, Mr McLeod, which would mean you’d have to find someone else to go to Waterford with you.’

He stopped, then turned back. ‘Fighting words, my dear, but what about your sister Dakota’s wedding?’

Sienna opened her mouth and closed it.

‘Especially in light of not only having told them you’re bringing someone but who?’

Several emotions chased through Sienna’s eyes. ‘I—well, I’d just have to swallow my pride, that’s all.’

He surveyed her, then his lips quirked. ‘How about swallowing your pride and conceding this? I could be the best judge of the stick bit.’

‘Why?’

‘I’ll tell you over dinner.’

‘Dinner! Here? No. Thank you, but no,’ she amended.

‘We’ve been down this road before,’ he commented. ‘All the same, you choose then.’

‘Choose?’ she repeated, looking bewildered.

He shrugged. ‘You seemed to suggest here was the problem. That’s fine with me, so how about some neutral territory?’

Sienna drew several breaths of varying intensity, frustration being the dominant emotion they signified. ‘That’s twisting my words!’

‘Not as you said them. Don’t you want to know why I’m of a mind to do away with my stick, Sienna?’

‘And that’s twisting my arm,’ she retorted.

‘I know a rather nice restaurant on the river,’ he remarked with his eyes full of amusement. ‘Their lobster and Moreton Bay bugs are amazing.’

Sienna opened her mouth and closed it. If she had one weakness it was fresh seafood and Moreton Bay bugs came at the top of that list. ‘Well,’ she said rather weakly, then eyed him accusingly. ‘How did you know that?’

He lifted an eyebrow enquiringly.

‘That I would sell my soul for Moreton Bay bugs.’ She shook her head exasperatedly.

He grinned. ‘I didn’t, but I like the sound of that.’

‘If you think I’m a pushover in any other direction, think again!’ she warned.

‘Perish the thought,’ he murmured, then laughed at her expression. ‘Sienna, I’m only asking you to have dinner with me.’

She exhaled audibly. ‘All right. Just this once. But I need to go home and change.’

‘Not a problem.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Give me your address and Dave and I will pick you up at, say, seven?’

Sienna drove home, still seething inwardly, but once there she went into another mode.

She showered and changed into a swirly, silky three-quarter-length skirt, a white background with a cinnamon pattern on it and a white knit top. She slid her feet into bronze sandals and looped her hair up into a loose knot.

She applied some discreet make-up, then studied herself in the mirror and decided that her upswept hair called for some dangly earrings. She found a pair, tiny seed pearls on copper wire, and put them on.

Then she stood quite still and asked herself why she was going out of her way to look her best when she’d been literally conned into this dinner.

Because that’s what Finn McLeod does to you, she conceded with a little spark of fire in her eyes. Puts you on your mettle even when you’re extremely annoyed with him!

Well, she conceded, annoyed with him and herself—you could have said no!

Dave knocked on her door at seven exactly and escorted her down to the waiting, latest model Mercedes. She climbed into the back, Finn was in the front, and she breathed in the scent of fine new leather.

But to her immediate consternation she saw that Finn was wearing a suit, although no tie.

‘Uh—what kind of restaurant are we going to?’ she asked as Dave drove them off.

‘Angelo’s,’ Finn replied.

Sienna clicked her tongue. Angelo’s was one of Brisbane’s most exclusive restaurants.

Finn turned his head towards her. ‘Is that a problem?’

‘I’m not dressed for Angelo’s. I’m dressed,’ Sienna said with precision, ‘for a rather nice restaurant on the river—which to me indicated somewhere casual and pleasant rather than five-star and extremely up-market.’ Her voice had risen a little.

‘I don’t see anything wrong with the way you’re dressed, but, to set your mind at rest, I’ve booked a table on the deck—it is more casual than the main restaurant.’

‘How on earth did you get a table—even on the deck—at such short notice?’

‘They know me.’

‘Silly question,’ Sienna muttered to herself, but any further utterances were forestalled as Dave drew up opposite the striped awning that protected the famous green brass-handled front doors of Angelo’s.

Sienna had never been to the restaurant but she’d heard of it; not only exquisite cuisine but one of the places to be seen in town.

The rumours hadn’t lied, she saw immediately. The décor was fabulous. Burgundy walls, champagne marble floors, soft, concealed lighting and forest-green velvet upholstery upon pale beech chairs. That pale glossy wood was repeated in the grand piano being played softly in the background.

And her eyes nearly popped at the number of celebrities she recognized. Not only that, but it was a glittering throng dressed to the nines, as Finn was greeted with reverence and ushered towards the deck. He was also stopped delightedly several times by other guests, at the same time as she was scanned from top to toe with a few raised eyebrows and the odd frown—but then immediate dismissal.

The analogy that sprang to mind had to do with her earrings. Pretty enough, but how could seed pearls on copper wire compete with the array of South Sea pearls glowing like moons, the diamonds and other gems that were displayed on the necks, ears, wrists and fingers of the female clientele of Angelo’s? Ditto her pretty but relatively inexpensive, definitely not designer outfit.

She set her teeth and raised her chin as they walked through to the deck.

It might be more casual than the main restaurant, but the deck was lovely. There were braziers flaming along the roped-off edge, potted palms swaying slightly in a gentle breeze and the crystal and silverware glinted on snowy white cloths.

When they were finally seated at the best table on the deck, with the river flowing past below their feet with reflected lights bobbing on its surface, she said, ‘Very impressive, Mr McLeod,’ but with an edge to her voice.

He eyed her narrowly. ‘Something tells me you don’t approve?’

‘Oh, I have no doubt I’ll approve of the bugs.’ She gestured. ‘I just feel a little out of place.’

He looked genuinely surprised. ‘Why?’

‘Everyone looks like a millionaire, if not to say a billionaire or a celebrity—’ she glanced around ‘—even on the deck. As for the prices—’ she glanced at the menu she’d been handed ‘—they’re little short of daylight robbery.’

‘Isn’t…’ He paused. ‘Couldn’t you be indulging in an inverted form of snobbery, Sienna?’

‘Well, actually, I’m all for quality, but I’m also a value-for-money girl. I could have taken you to a place where they do divine bugs for half the price, and the ambience isn’t bad either.’

He stared at her.

‘This is not exactly my milieu, Finn,’ she added gently. ‘It’s like another world, your world. It’s—’ she looked around ‘—very glamorous but a little bit false.’

‘I stand corrected,’ he said gravely. ‘Shall we go to your restaurant?’

Sienna’s eyes widened. ‘You mean stand up and walk out?’

He shrugged. ‘Why not?’

She blinked. ‘What will they think?’

‘Does it matter?’

It came to Sienna at that moment that this was the essence of being super-wealthy. Not only paying inflated prices for being surrounded by your peers and being seen on the social scene, but doing precisely as you pleased, and Finn McLeod did it in spades.

‘Er—no,’ she said. ‘I would feel bad, only on behalf of the staff, about doing that.’

‘So you’re happy to grin and bear it?’ he suggested.

‘I—I’ll tell you how I feel after I’ve sampled the bugs.’

She looked at him coolly until he smiled with genuine amusement.

‘You’re quite a character, Miss Torrance,’ he murmured. ‘Tell me this—do you drink?’

‘Of course I drink.’

‘I mean as in wine? Something light and refreshing to go with the seafood, maybe?’

‘Why not? Do I look like a teetotaller?’ she asked wryly.

‘I just thought, having been castigated on the excesses of this place, that might be another of your pet aversions.’

Sienna grimaced. ‘Sorry, perhaps I got a bit carried away—it’s a little demoralizing to feel under-dressed, in case you hadn’t realized.’

‘My apologies. The last thing I wanted to do was embarrass you, but there is no need—you look absolutely fine.’

Sienna chewed her lip. He sounded as if he meant it. Perhaps it simply hadn’t crossed his mind that you needed to give a girl fair warning before you took her to Angelo’s? Maybe the women he normally escorted around expected no less?

‘Thank you, I’ll rise above it then—and I’d love some wine to go with the seafood.’

‘Bravo!’ His eyes lingered on her for a long moment but were entirely enigmatic, before he turned away to order the wine.

A couple of hours later, crispy, garlic-butter-soaked bread and tapas had come and gone as well as melt-in-the-mouth barbecued bugs on a bed of rice with a green salad. And Sienna realized—how had he done it?—they hadn’t talked about his stick at all. If anything, they’d mostly talked about her.

Somehow, maybe the wine had helped, he’d broken through her barriers of resentment and feelings of ill-use and got her to talk about herself. Her university days, her passion for her career, her travels, even her politics!

‘How did you do that?’ she asked him out of the blue.

He raised an eyebrow.

‘Invite me to dinner to talk about your stick, then get me to talk about anything but?’

He shrugged. ‘Most people love talking about themselves.’

‘Yes, but I’m usually—’ She gestured. ‘Things are usually the other way around for me. I’m the one who does the asking.’

‘I’ve noticed that. You’re very good at making light, unimportant conversation.’

‘Just like a hairdresser,’ she said mischievously.

‘What do people tell you?’ he asked curiously.

She raised her eyes heavenwards. ‘The most amazing things sometimes. Quite often things I’d rather not know.’ She smiled ruefully, then sobered. ‘But—why?’

‘I guess—’ he put his napkin on the table ‘—I’m interested, that’s all. As for my stick, if you really want to know, I think it’s holding me back mentally now.’

She frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I need a new challenge. I need to throw it away. Of course it goes without saying I’ll be careful.’ He frowned suddenly. ‘It’s like a prop and it’s annoying me to think I need a prop. I don’t know if that makes sense, but there you go.’

‘So,’ she said slowly, ‘whatever I say is not going to make any difference?’

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