style="font-size:15px;"> ‘To pick up a yacht and then to my brother’s beach house. I’m done here. I resigned this morning. I need one minute with her. I want to drop something on her desk. She doesn’t even have to break her call.’
‘You’re welcome to leave whatever it is with me.’
‘I’d rather hand-deliver it. C’mon, Sam. One last indulgence and then you’ll never have to indulge me again.’
‘Uh-huh?’ she said dryly. ‘I’ll see you in. Don’t talk if she’s sitting at her desk with headphones on. Fair warning.’
‘I won’t.’
Sam opened the door to the inner sanctum for him and he walked in and saw her sitting behind the desk, headset in place and her desk covered in papers. The expression on her face was a captivating combination of intense focus and serenity—as if this world was one she enjoyed … as if she’d been shaped for it.
She’d told him she’d been working towards it since she was in her teens.
Jared smiled a little at the eyebrow she raised in his direction. He withdrew the second copy of his report and held it up for her perusal before setting it on her desk, picking up her pen and scribbling on it that there were only two such reports in existence and that Management had the other one.
She read the words, nodded, and kept right on listening. Later? she scribbled on a memo pad, and he shook his head.
Beach house for me, he scribbled back, and then, belatedly remembering, Management wants to see you when you’re free.
She frowned at him then, and spoke into the headset speaker. ‘Yes, Clayton. I understand.’
He took one more look at her, just in case it was the last one he ever got of her in her workplace element.
He memorised her face.
And then he left.
It took Jared until Friday to get his new yacht to its new home at the marina near the beach house. Five days of putting the craft through its paces and rediscovering the beauty of Australia’s eastern coastline as seen from the Pacific. Five days of the sun on his face and shoulders and the spray of the ocean sandpapering his skin.
There had been two storm fronts and he’d revelled in the challenge of them. He’d slept better for being tossed around and catching snippets of sleep whenever he could … far better than he’d slept in any bed lately—with the exception of the bed he’d slept in with Rowan.
He’d slept after she’d tied him up and slaked her thirst for him and his for her.
He’d slept heart to heart and skin to skin with her name on his lips.
Her name was still echoing in his head and in his heart, deep in his psyche. Altering his perceptions. Changing his way of thinking about things. He’d left a message on her phone, telling her where he was going, what he was doing, and saying that he’d be in touch with her again once he’d docked. He’d invited her to the beach house, if she wasn’t doing anything this weekend.
He didn’t want to hear her say no. The little bird of hope in his chest just didn’t want to hear it. So he hadn’t rung again.
When he docked mid-morning on Friday, he didn’t interrupt Rowan’s work-day by calling. He let the little bird keep right on fluttering and called Lena instead, asked her if she wanted to meet him at the marina and take a look at their new purchase. He knew it for a token question because he knew full well she’d be there within the hour—her curiosity wouldn’t have it any other way.
If he was lucky she’d bring lunch.
She came by the swift red speedboat that Jared had forgotten she possessed. It had been a present from Trig, and Jared had got into trouble once for stealing it.
He smiled at the memory as Lena tossed a rope up to him with a cheerful ‘Looking good, brother.’
Lena looked beautiful and carefree, sun-browned and happy. She handed him a bright red Esky next, and then put her hand up for him to haul her aboard.
He laughed. ‘Wait for the ladder.’
‘I don’t need a ladder—just give me your hand.’
‘With my ribs? Hell, no. You look heavy.’
‘I’m a lightweight these days, I shall have you know,’ she protested. ‘My husband can carry me easily. You’re just getting careful in your old age.’
‘Had to happen some time. I’m also world-weary and jaded—and as of three days ago unemployed.’
‘Good thing you’re independently wealthy, then.’
He set the ladder over the side, and only when she’d reached the top did he offer his hand and some of his strength to help her board.
‘Nice,’ she said, looking around the little craft. ‘I thought you said it was second-hand?’
‘It is. Although I don’t think the previous owners ever actually sailed it anywhere.’
‘Good for them.’ Lena grinned. ‘Better for us.’ She headed for the hatch and leaned down to look inside. ‘Dear God, it’s mustard!’
‘It’s soothing.’
‘You’re joking.’ She started down the hatch. ‘Damon’s wife, Ruby, has the most amazing eye for colour. I say we let her loose on it.’
‘Isn’t she a little busy right now? With a baby coming?’
‘Okay, you’re right, I’ll do it myself. Maybe Ruby and the baby can help. You realise that I fully intend to be the mad aunt who leads that child astray every chance I get? He’ll have West genes to contend with—shouldn’t be too hard.’
‘He?’
‘Or she. I have no preference. I just want a beautiful healthy baby for them.’
‘You’re not—? You don’t—? I mean …’
He had no idea how to ask his next question, but Lena took pity on him.
‘Am I jealous?’ She nodded, but her wry smile held no bitterness. ‘A little. I’m kind of still coming to terms with the fact that no child will ever carry my blood, but there are other options. Adoption. Surrogacy. Even fostering. I met a twelve-year-old boy in hospital last year when I was there. He’s still there. The rest of his immediate family died in the same car accident that damaged his pelvis and legs.’
‘You want to take him on?’
‘Thinking about it. He’s a sweet kid. Never gives up. He’d fit right in.’
‘Does he have any other family?’
‘A grandmother on his maternal side who loves him dearly. But her resources are limited.’
‘Would she give him up?’
‘I
