Then he was kissing her again and her breasts were crushed against him as he held her hard.
It was the dining room door opening and a spontaneous whistle that brought Harriet Livingstone and Damien Wyatt back to earth.
Not that Damien betrayed any sign of discomfort, at first.
He released her in a leisurely way and tidied the collar of her dress before he said over her shoulder, ‘Charlie, this is Harriet Livingstone. Harriet—’ he put his hands on her shoulders ‘—it’s OK. Meet my brother, Charles Walker Wyatt. He’s renowned for rushing in where angels fear to tread.’
Harriet swallowed and put her hands up to try to tidy her hair before she forced herself to turn around.
Charles Walker Wyatt wasn’t as tall as his brother Damien and he looked to be several years younger. He also bore an arrested expression on his face, as of one who had received a smack on the head when least expecting it.
‘Holy...Mackerel, Damien!’ he exclaimed then. ‘The last thing I expected to find in the dining room of all places was you kissing a girl I’ve never laid eyes on! That’s hardly fools rushing in material—wouldn’t you agree, ma’am?’ he appealed to Harriet as he advanced towards them.
‘By the way, please forgive me,’ he went on, ‘for labelling you “a girl”—not that you’re not but it sounds sort of generic and I don’t mean to classify you like that. Not at all! But—’
‘Charlie.’ There was a definite warning note in Damien’s voice.
‘Damien?’ Charlie replied, looking innocent. ‘Just tell me what I’m allowed to say and do and I’ll try not to put a foot wrong!’
‘What anyone with a grain of courtesy or good sense would have done in the first place,’ his brother replied evenly. ‘Retreated and shut the flaming door!’
The last bit was said a little less than evenly and it struck Harriet that Damien Wyatt was not completely unaffected by his brother’s intrusion.
‘Ah.’ Charlie rubbed his chin. ‘OK—but actually, I’ve had a better idea. What’s wrong with me getting to know Miss Harriet Livingstone?’ And he looked admiringly at Harriet.
‘Everything,’ Damien snapped. ‘Just go away, Charlie!’ he added, his irritation and rising impatience plain to be seen.
Something Charles Walker Wyatt obviously saw for himself because he sketched a salute, did a military about-turn and said, ‘Just going, sir.’ He marched out smartly.
Damien waited until the door closed before turning back to Harriet. ‘Do you know something?’ he said bitterly. ‘Every time we get within cooee of each other, you and I, it turns out to be a shambles!’
Harriet swallowed. ‘I think I should just go. It could never work.’
‘Go?’ he said through his teeth, ‘How the hell can you kiss a guy like that and just go?’
CHAPTER TWO
‘YOU STARTED IT,’ Harriet said and immediately despised herself for sounding incredibly lame and childish. ‘I mean...’ But she found it impossible to sort out her thoughts let alone her emotions.
‘If you hadn’t tripped over the damn dog, I might not have started it,’ he replied irritably. ‘Anyway! How come Tottie is so taken with you?’
‘I don’t know.’ Harriet shrugged helplessly. ‘Dogs do just seem to take to me.’
‘Look—’ he studied her ‘—sit down and have another cup of tea—no, I’ll pour it—hang on, I’ve got a better idea.’ He guided her to a chair at the dining table and pulled it out for her. ‘Sit down and study some of my mother’s incomparable collection; it might calm you. While I pour us a drink.’
He turned away towards a cocktail cabinet.
Harriet drew a deep breath and combed her hair with her fingers but she couldn’t find her ribbon so she had to leave it loose. She took a hanky out of her purse and patted her face. Then her attention was drawn to an exquisite cameo in an old-fashioned rose-gold and pin-point diamond setting and she forgot about the wreck she might look as she stared at it rapturously. And Damien Wyatt put a glass of brandy down beside her and pulled out a chair opposite to sit down with his own drink.
‘Cheers,’ he said.
Harriet hesitated.
‘Don’t think about it; just drink it,’ he advised.
So she took a couple of sips and felt the brandy slip down and a warm glow of—what was it? Some confidence?—rise in its place.
But, before she could formulate anything sensible to say, he spoke. ‘How well do you know Arthur?’
‘Hardly at all. I know Penny better. We were at college together for a while, although she’s a few years older. Then we lost track of each other until I came up to Ballina. It was quite an amazing coincidence. I literally bumped into her—no,’ she said with her lips quirking suddenly as his eyebrows flew up, ‘not the way I bumped into you. This was on the pavement as we were walking along.’
A gleam of amusement lit his eyes. ‘I’m relieved to hear you say so. Go on.’
She looked rueful. ‘So we had coffee and compared notes. She told me about Arthur and how they’d moved from Sydney to Ballina to get out of the rat race. She told me she’d started a picture-framing business and a small art gallery and how Arthur still dealt in art—he was born up here apparently.’
‘Yes. He was a friend of my father’s; more than that, he helped Dad establish his collection.’
‘So I told her I’d also decided to get away from the rat race and I was looking for a job. That’s when she grew thoughtful and finally dragged me off to meet Arthur.’
‘I see.’ Damien swirled the liquid in his glass. ‘So they didn’t know—’ he lifted his dark gaze to her ‘—about your brother?’
‘No.’ Harriet traced the rim of her glass with her forefinger then took another sip. ‘I know it seems a bit deceitful, but I find it hard to deal with people feeling sorry for us.’
He was silent for a time, then, ‘What were you doing up here two months ago, when you bumped into me?’
‘I was checking out this rehabilitation centre. It was the first time I’d been to this area—another reason I was a bit dithery, I guess; I didn’t know my way around.’
‘It’s not exactly a metropolis,’ he said wryly then gestured as if to delete the comment. ‘But you’re living up here now? Your brother’s in the rehab centre?’
Harriet nodded.
‘Where are you living?’
She hesitated then took a sip of the brandy and shrugged. ‘In a rented caravan in the caravan park. I do have a job—it’s waitressing, so it keeps the wolf from the door, but—’ She broke off.
‘Only
