tiny, fair and frail, with his leg in its fibreglass cast and with the hurts to his small body only just fading.
And Nick Daniels…whoever he was. A city lawyer of some kind. He looked lean and tough and ruthless. Len had run from him because he was afraid, and Shanni didn’t blame him. If she’d thought she was in Nick Daniels’ power, she’d run too.
He looked like a hawk, she decided. Strong, and not an ounce of spare fat on him. His face was almost chiselled, with a strong jaw line and deep-etched bones. He was so tanned his eyes seemed constantly in shadow, which furthered the impression of an eagle.
And yet… With his tie undone, with the tiny boy’s arms clinging around his neck, he seemed in some strange way almost as vulnerable as the child in his arms.
That was some crazy thought, Shanni figured. Vulnerable? No! This man was a city lawyer with expensive clothes and looks that would make him stand out like a sore toe in Bay Beach.
Thelma, the local laundress, would have kittens if she was asked to clean his suit, Shanni decided. And his ties… The locals had learned long ago that gorgeous fabrics simply disappeared when Thelma got them into her clutches. She loved them and hoarded them as her own. If she ever got her hands on Nick’s tie it’d take all his legal wiles to get it back—and Shanni’s money was on Thelma.
Good grief! That was a crazy thought, she figured, and she almost chuckled into the darkness. Here she was, in a life and death situation, and all she could think of was legal battles between a city lawyer and the Bay Beach laundress!
But it was a good thought, she decided finally. It was a brave thought and it was better than going to sleep thinking of hunger and guns.
She closed her eyes and, to her amazement, she went to sleep with a smile on her face.
When Nick woke, Shanni still slept. He looked across at her in the filtering dawn light and thought how odd that her mouth was curved into a smile in sleep—as if she was having a lovely dream. The little boy was cradled between them and her hand was over him as if she’d protect him even in sleep. Nick’s arm was around Harry and she was pressed against it. They were twined together as three.
Like a…family?
The thought was suddenly gut-wrenchingly bitter. How would the likes of Nick know what a family was? This scenario was fantasy-world stuff—not real life.
And real life was intruding. Nick stirred and the fantasy ended right there. He’d slept with Harry clinging; his neck was screaming its protest and Harry was clinging still. He reached up and tried to loosen the small arms, but Harry muttered in sleep and his hold tightened.
He should pull the child away—but he couldn’t make himself do it. Somehow… Instead Nick returned his attention to Shanni, telling himself he needed something to distract him from the discomfort around his neck.
Or maybe…maybe it was that he really wanted to look at Shanni some more. Extend the family fantasy?
She wasn’t his type at all, he decided as he watched her. Sure, she was lovely enough, but she was totally unsophisticated in style and much more simply dressed than any woman Nick had ever been attracted to.
She was dressed as a kindergarten teacher, ready for rough-and-tumble with her children. Now her jeans and her too-big-shirt were crumpled from sleep, and her blonde curls were tumbling all over her pillow. There was a smattering of freckles running down her nose, and her lashes were peculiarly dark for one so blonde, but it wasn’t mascara that was doing it—they were long and natural and curled upward… Just like her nose. Sort of snub… Pert… Young.
She wasn’t his type at all, he decided, and why he should lie here staring at her…
She opened her eyes and she smiled, and his gut kicked in. That smile of hers was a real heart-stopper. Straight from sleep, it lit her face and brightened the room around her as if someone had flicked on a light switch.
‘Hi,’ she whispered without moving but taking everything in with wide, intelligent eyes. ‘Are we still hostages?’ Her smile stayed. Where their arms touched was warm—a link of comfort. Or more…
‘Yes. We’re still hostages.’ Good grief, it was all he could do to make his voice work.
‘But we’re not dead yet.’ She yawned and stretched like a cat under her mound of blankets, and the link strengthened as her body stirred against him. ‘That’s something.’
‘Yeah, great.’ Try sarcasm, Daniels…
‘Well, it is!’ Her eyes reproached him. ‘Trust a lawyer to look on the gloomy side.’
‘There’s no need to disparage the legal profession.’
‘Oh, I’ve met some very nice lawyers.’ Her eyes twinkled at him, teasing. ‘All of them over eighty. It takes them that long to realise they’re human after all.’
‘Thanks very much.’
‘Don’t mention it.’ The twinkle peeped out again. ‘Isn’t this cosy?’
‘Very cosy.’ It was, too—absurdly cosy—but he forced his voice to sound dry. For the life of him he didn’t know how else to react. ‘My arm’s about to drop off.’
‘It must be,’ she agreed sympathetically. ‘But, Nick, it’s lovely how he’s holding you. Harry hasn’t held anyone in the whole time I’ve known him.’
‘I’m honoured.’ That was the lawyer in him now, being sardonic, but she ignored it.
‘You are indeed,’ she said seriously. ‘If you knew how hard we’ve worked to get a link…’ And then she paused. ‘But…you’re not local, are you?’
‘No, but…’
‘So you’re just passing through town.’ There was no mistaking her disappointment, and for the life of him Nick couldn’t stop a weird warm glow stir through his body—starting from the toes up. And then she killed it. ‘We want Harry so much to form a bond with someone.’
She wanted someone for Harry. Of course. What else could she possibly have meant?
‘You mean…you’d want me to stay for the kid?’
‘Isn’t that why women always ask men to stay? Because of the children?’ She chuckled. They were still talking in whispers in the near dark and they were almost nose to nose. Over by the window Len either couldn’t hear or he didn’t care. ‘What else did you think I meant?’
What indeed? There was no answer to that one. The glow died—but the link stayed. Her nose was too close!
‘So… You’re from Melbourne?’ He had this almost overwhelming desire to kiss her and she was talking social niceties. It was as much as he could do to figure out what she was talking about.
‘I… Yes.’
‘And you’re in Bay Beach on business?’ She sounded politely interested—nothing more.
‘I am.’ And then he weakened. He might as well tell her. Soon the whole district would know. ‘I’m taking over from Judge
