had swung around. ‘What’s wrong?’
He muttered something about losing his grip, then joined her again. He handed over her wine, careful not to let their fingers touch this time. Putting an effort into appreciating the vibrant harbour view, he brought his glass to his lips. ‘The rain’s stopped.’
Her finger drew a curve in the air. ‘There’s a rainbow.’
A far-reaching arc of red, violet and every colour in between bowed over the giant Opera House shells, touching the glistening harbour waters either side.
Nice.
‘Did you know that the colours of a rainbow are a result of light refracted off of raindrops?’ he said.
‘That’s such a clinical way of looking at—’ She cut her jibe short and rephrased. ‘What I mean is, I’d always looked at rainbows in a magical rather than scientific light. It’s good to get the other side.’
He grinned, then softly chuckled. She was trying so hard. Trying to do the best by her sister.
His gaze veered away from the sky—spent grey streaking westward to leave newly washed blue—and settled on the equally mesmerising sight beside him.
His heart fisted in his throat.
No contest. She was even more beautiful than he’d remembered.
His next words were unintentionally husky. ‘So you believe in magic?’
Concentrating on the rainbow, she hesitated before her chin picked up. ‘Sure. Why not?’
His gaze drank her in. ‘Then you’d believe there’s a pot of gold at every rainbow’s end.’
Her brow pinched and her throat bobbed before she murmured so faintly he barely heard.
‘I believed it once.’
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