had no idea she’d said it out loud until the truck swerved, before he righted it.
Holding onto the balancing handles on the door, she cried, “Watch it, Haskell. I’m not ready to die yet!”
“Then don’t say things like that to a man when he’s driving.” But he was laughing—and he didn’t complete her humiliation by commenting further on her unconscious verbal blooper. “And for the record, Danni, I don’t think becoming Miss Sweetness and Light would do a thing for you.”
She lifted a brow. “So you need to change, but I don’t?” she taunted, to keep up the banter, to see how far he’d go with it—and to keep him awake. It was already late.
His face darkened. “I think change is being forced on me whether I like it or not.”
Without warning, her throat thickened to a hard ache, but she forced it down. She hadn’t cried since she was eight years old, and she wasn’t about to start now. To distract him—or maybe because she wanted to—she said huskily, “For the record, Haskell, I thought you were pretty sexy long before the caveman emerged.”
This time the silence was charged with unseen fire. “You say that again, Danni, and I’ll toss your friendship offer out the door,” he growled. “A man has his limits.”
She felt the heat fill her entire body. Was that what she wanted? Wasn’t it what she wanted—to be in his arms again, feeling so glorious, feminine and alive as she never had with any man?
Is that what I want—to have a fling with a man who, as honest and giving as he is, will only walk away in the end? I’m not enough for any man.
And Jim had lost enough. The last thing he ought to do now was start a relationship with a woman who knew nothing about love and commitment and happy-ever-after.
Coward. You’re making excuses because you’re afraid. Yet it was as much truth as lie. She had no clue where she wanted to go from here—and he hadn’t said a word about what he wanted, beyond the obvious.
Swallowing down the urge to blurt out what she wanted, she murmured instead, “Mea culpa. Bad timing.”
He nodded, his face tight.
Her phone rang—the clashing sound she’d put on to warn her one of her parents was calling. She glanced at Jim. “I’m sorry for whatever you’re about to hear.
“Hello,” she answered quietly.
“Danielle,” the anxious voice of her mother came down the line. Her mother always sounded like a fluttering bird caught in a trap, except when she was talking to her husband. “Was it a nice night for Laila?”
“It was lovely, Mum. Laila made honours. She’ll be setting up a practice once the new baby’s crawling.”
She felt Jim’s glance touch her for a moment. It wasn’t about Laila, she knew that. He and Laila were still very close, so he’d have heard all the news about her plans to open a practice in a year’s time. So he must be reacting to the tightness of her voice. Wondering whether it was talking of Laila that had her so tense, or talking to her mother.
“Ally must be so big now!”
She started at her mother’s voice. “Yes, she was running around the hall all day, and the restaurant tonight. Nobody can hold her for long. Just like her mother. She looks more like Jake, though.”
“You must tell them to come see me before they head to Queensland, or maybe after the baby’s born. It doesn’t look as though I’ll be a grandmother any time soon. I’d like to hold a baby again.”
Her mother didn’t know how to tease. She’d spoken blunt truth…but it would take a miracle for Danni to become a mother.
A mother. Pain slashed through her. As if she’d ever have a baby, with her lack of nurturing skills. All she knew was how to fight, and she’d never put a child through the constant battles she’d lived all her life. “I’ll tell them.”
“When are you coming home to see us, Danielle? You haven’t been home in almost two months.”
“I know.” Ever since the last episode, Danni didn’t respond to her parents’ guilt trips. That house hadn’t been home to her for a very long time. “I’m busy. I’ll come when I can.”
“What are you doing now?” her mother asked eagerly. “I know you’re between jobs. If Laila’s going home to Burrabilla, you can—”
“How do you know I’m between jobs?”
The sharp tone stopped her mother halfway through her sentence. “You didn’t answer your phone for a few days, so I called your practice. They said you left a few weeks ago.”
She refused to respond to the reproach in her mother’s tone. “I’ve told you before, Mum—don’t call me at work unless it’s an emergency.”
“What else could I do, when you weren’t answering your phone?”
Realise I need space from you, and back off for a few days!
“Danielle!”
Her mother’s gasp told her she’d done it again. Tonight must be the night she said all the things that, until now, she’d only thought. But no matter how much she wanted to, she couldn’t back down. “I don’t want to hurt you, Mum, but if I say sorry now, you’ll only use it as a weapon against me from now on.” And for the next thirty years, like you do with Dad.
It was bad enough being their referee. She’d spent her whole life avoiding giving her mother reasons to punish her, the way Mum punished Dad. The perfect child, always doing the right thing…and they’d been so proud of her. So when the strain had become too much, she’d simply moved out. It wasn’t so hard being nice in a few conversations every day, and monthly or so visits.
“I am your mother, Danielle,” her mother said now, voice shaking.
Danni sighed, rubbing her forehead as the beginnings of a tension headache began. She’d hurt her mum. “I know that, and I love you. But you don’t do anything apart from your job but keep house, play solitaire and talk to me. You need to get out of the house, find friends—get a life beyond me.” And being nasty to and about Dad…
“Your father and I both want you to come home to see us.”
Danni knew the inflexible tone—her mother had reached her limits and was reasserting authority. “I can’t. A—a friend needs me. I’m going home with him for a few days.”
“Him?” The tone was infused with sudden life. The hope for grandchildren was the one thing that kept both parents going.
“Yes. Jim Haskell. Remember him? Laila’s other best friend?” She slid an apologetic glance at Jim, who appeared to be concentrating on the deep darkness of the unlit country road and the song from the CD player, singing along softly.
“The tall, handsome one with the curly hair?”
Danni bit her lip over a grin. “Yes, Mum, the tall, handsome one with the curly hair—and he’s sitting right beside me,” she said in a mock-long-suffering
