twisted, hoisted himself out onto the pool side and picked up the towel he’d left nearby. Alina stood, heading for the door as he patted excess water from his body. He caught her arm and took her towel from her.
‘Stand still.’
He moved behind her, began to dry her hair, firmly yet gently. It was soporific, soothing. She arched her neck in pleasure, sighed when he dropped the towel and began to massage her neck and shoulders. Trembled when his hot breath teased the pulse under her ear.
‘Your muscles are taut as a drum. A proper massage might help.’
From him? Considering he was the main reason for their tension, she doubted it, but his offer was tempting.
‘There’s a beauty parlour in the next block. Make an appointment.’
Why had it suddenly become less appealing?
* * *
After Alina had retired for the night Ethan turned off the television and dimmed the lights. Then, sipping brandy, his feet up on the coffee table, he tried to make sense of the mayhem his normally ordered life had become.
He was committed to becoming a short-term husband and a lifelong father. He was becoming attached to a woman whose heart and love belonged to a dead guy. Her response to him was merely physical. His carefully planned future was now a day-by-day unknown.
* * *
Ethan suggested they put light coats, plus anything else she wanted to take, into her backpack—which he’d carry. He deliberately lingered over breakfast, determined to use their outing to ease any tension between them, make this a day for light conversation with no conflict.
It was mid-morning as they strolled towards Circular Quay. After guiding her across the first road he linked their fingers, claiming it would prevent them from being separated by the crowds already building up. She didn’t argue, seemed content to let him be protective. He was rapidly becoming more comfortable with the feeling.
Had to curb it when, while drinking water and watching the boats, she declared she’d love to do the Harbour Bridge climb.
Alina hadn’t forgotten the sheer joy of crossing the heads to Manly on a windy day in choppy seas. She’d purposely blocked it from her mind. Now she realised how much she’d missed the city she’d lived in for so many years.
Today it was fairly mild, until they reached the gap leading to the ocean. She felt alive, leaning on the rail, facing into the breeze, letting it prickle her skin and tease her hair. Nautical toots and engine noise, calls from yachts as they sailed past, all combined with the sounds of circling seagulls to fill her world.
‘There’s nothing like this anywhere—nothing so exhilarating.’ She twisted her head to smile up at Ethan, braced behind her, his hands on the rail either side of her.
His expression said he didn’t quite agree. She turned back, leant well forward, as if searching, unsure how to express the way she felt. He repeatedly said that he owed her, but she hadn’t expected him to show it so personally, to spend so much time with her. Covering her living costs would have been ample.
‘Hey.’ One arm wrapped round her. ‘It’s a long way down.’
‘I’m looking for dolphins.’
‘Wrong area for them. Wrong season for whales.’
Husky tone, hot breath fanning her ear.
‘Some friends and I did a whale-watching trip along the coast a few years ago. Mid-June, I think. If you’re feeling up to it, we’ll go.’
‘I’d love it.’ She let him draw her back against his chest. Breathed in the salty air. And him. Let herself live in the moment.
Ethan wondered if she knew how captivating she looked. Genuinely happy, with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, she was irresistible. He made a mental note to arrange a day’s sailing with friends.
He cupped her cheek, bringing her face round to his. ‘Nothing like it. Definitely no sight more beautiful,’ he murmured, dipping his head to capture her mouth. He saw her eyes darken. Felt her tremble. Silently agreed: it was exhilarating.
The ferry lurched, breaking them apart. He grabbed the rail again, trapping her safely between his arms. They rocked in unison as the boat ploughed through the rough swell. General conversation might be safer.
‘I have to confess the only ferries I’ve been on for years have been for corporate evening events with catered food and drinks. My friends and I used to think day-old pies and cold cans of drink were the ultimate meal.’
He realised how many other simple pleasures he’d left behind as he built his Starburst chain. Pleasures Alina understood and still enjoyed. His adrenaline surged at the thought of her helping him rediscover them. Then she’d go, leaving him to share them with their child. He trembled at the challenge.
Alina felt it and looked round.
‘That wind’s cold. Do you want to go inside?’ he said.
He wasn’t lying. It went right through the jacket he’d put on before boarding. Hers wasn’t much heavier.
‘You’re kidding? Inside is for sensitive people, small children or the wuss breed. There’s hot drinks and delicious fish and chips waiting near the docks.’
She turned back to watch their approach into Manly.
Ethan nestled his head against hers. ‘Okay, but if I catch a chill you have to nurse me.’
The sound she gave was suspiciously like a giggle. ‘No chance. No virus would dare attack you without an appointment.’
He stiffened. Was that the impression he gave? Good humour won him over. A week ago she’d been wary of him, anxious about his reaction to her pregnancy. Ready with a plan to have the baby alone if he denied her. He felt a warm glow deep in his gut. If she liked him enough to bait him he must be doing something right.
So he had a reputation for being hardnosed in business? He also was known for being fair and trustworthy.
* * *
Late on Monday morning Alina walked through the foyer, trying to pep-talk away her apprehension. Exercising hadn’t helped. The line between truth and tacit lies seemed so tenuous. She was not the biological mother—had to persuade everyone she was. She and Ethan had never been lovers, had shared only a few kisses—one long one for an observer’s benefit. Were required to act as if they’d had a passionate affair.
Her trepidation had increased when she’d realised he’d been rescheduling appointments to accommodate her and the problems she’d brought him. This morning he’d left early for a meeting postponed from Wednesday. Thirty minutes ago he’d phoned to ask her to come down and meet the car as he’d be running late.
For the baby. For Louise and Leon.
Repeating her mantra silently, she went outside to wait in the shade, praying he wasn’t stuck in a traffic jam. The vehicle pulled in to the kerb as if summoned by her plea. She hurried forward, not giving the driver a chance to alight. Scrambling in, she dragged the door shut, leaving
