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‘I—see.’ She couldn’t think of anything else to say.
‘So it’s a deal? No more doubts?’
‘It’s a deal,’ she said slowly.
In bed that night, Sienna found she was puzzled.
She and Finn had finished their coffee companionably as they’d watched the cricket, an exciting one-day international match. In fact so companionable had it been, she’d stayed to the end of the match.
But, as the overhead fan revolved above her bed, she found herself trying to sum Finn McLeod up in the light of recent events, only to decide he was still something of an enigma.
Yes, his decision to come to the wedding was a gesture she had to appreciate. Yes, he was good company with a rather dry sense of humour that she appreciated. Yes, she’d certainly spent a lot of time with him over the last few months so they did have a rapport of a kind and she was able to read him in some ways.
For example, although they didn’t happen often, she’d learnt to identify his bad days just by looking at him. Days when he was pale and moody, haunted almost—and who wouldn’t be after what he’d gone through? And she’d adjusted her responses accordingly to purely businesslike.
But it was hard to shake the feeling that he was—how to describe it?—a cool customer, and despite the quid pro quo he’d agreed to as a way of repaying her for what she’d done for him, why did she still feel there was something going on she didn’t understand?
She reached above her and turned the fan to a higher speed, and closed her eyes as the faster air wafted over her skin. She did have an air-conditioning unit but she hated sleeping with the windows closed and in the air-conditioning.
What on earth could be going on, though? she wondered. And why did she have this feeling? Because she had genuinely thought, when she’d stopped to think about it, that a wedding would be the last thing he’d want to go to after his own wedding plans had been so tragically destroyed.
Because, she mused, she had thought that to have his name linked to another woman, even falsely, should not appeal to him after those same tragic events.
Yet he’d been totally relaxed about it all. Or did that mean Finn McLeod had shut himself off, put his emotions on ice, in other words, because it was the only way he could cope?
Finn had no reservations about taking advantage of air-conditioning to get a good night’s sleep, but even in the cool, climate-controlled atmosphere of the master bedroom of Eastwood he was having trouble sleeping that night.
Of course, there was something else he could take advantage of, a sleeping pill, but he had grave reservations about becoming dependent on them, so he didn’t.
And things were improving. The pain in his leg was gradually diminishing, he was getting more and more mobile, the terrible tearing, crashing nightmares were less frequent.
The twisted remains of his life were another matter, however.
And there was this mysterious urge he’d succumbed to, to force his physiotherapist to come to Waterford with him.
His lips twisted as he recalled Sienna’s desperate indecision after flinging down her own gauntlet in the heat of the moment. But, if anything, it reinforced his belief that she was a thoroughly nice person.
She was also attractive in her own quiet way. She was certainly capable, intelligent and, as he’d told her, a bundle of energy. She was pleasant company.
Did that justify his behaviour, though?
He stirred restlessly. It was true that he was feeling frustrated and needed a change of scene. It was true enough that he thought she’d worked wonders for him whatever she might like to think to the contrary, although it was hard to pinpoint exactly how she’d done it. A born carer? he wondered. With a knack for people and a passion for getting them moving again? Possibly.
So why was he feeling guilty now?
It made sense for him not to want to swap horses midstream, so to speak, but was that all that was behind it?
Sienna continued her work with Finn throughout the next week, and discovered again that he could be “difficult”, as she thought of it.
It all came about over her refusal—at first, that was—to agree to him discarding his stick.
They finished their session in the gym—a late session as it happened, to fit in with a meeting he’d had earlier—but he refused point-blank to be pushed back to the house in his chair.
‘I’ve also decided I don’t need the stick any more,’ he stated.
‘Finn, don’t be silly!’ She stared at him.
‘You said that to me once before, but there was nothing silly about that either,’ he countered, his eyes dark and moody again. ‘Have you any idea what it feels like to be tottering around on a stick? Or pushed about by a slip of a girl?’
‘Of course I do! Not that it matters who does the pushing, I would have thought!’
‘Yes, it does,’ he stated. ‘It makes me feel about a hundred years old and useless.’
Sienna took a breath and counted to three. ‘You’d probably really feel a hundred years old if you fell over and broke something. All right—’ she came to a sudden decision ‘—no more chair but it’s quite—quite childish to do away with your stick.’ She drew herself up to her full five feet six inches and stared at him with the authority she seldom had to use with patients.
It didn’t work.
He grinned fleetingly and said quite gently, ‘Ms Torrance, you may insult me all you like, but you cannot stop me.’ He turned away and started to walk out.
Sienna muttered something beneath her breath as she watched his retreating figure, then, ‘I can take myself off your case, Mr McLeod, which would mean you’d have to find someone else to go to Waterford with you.’
He stopped, then turned back. ‘Fighting words, my dear, but what about your sister Dakota’s wedding?’
Sienna opened her mouth and closed it.
‘Especially in light of not only having told them you’re bringing someone but who?’
Several emotions chased through Sienna’s eyes. ‘I—well, I’d just have to swallow my pride, that’s all.’
He surveyed her, then his lips quirked. ‘How about swallowing your pride and conceding this? I could be the best judge of the stick bit.’
‘Why?’
‘I’ll tell you over dinner.’
‘Dinner! Here? No. Thank you, but no,’ she amended.
‘We’ve been down this road before,’ he commented. ‘All the same, you choose then.’
‘Choose?’ she repeated, looking bewildered.
He shrugged. ‘You seemed to suggest here was the problem. That’s fine with me, so how about some neutral territory?’
Sienna drew several breaths of varying intensity, frustration being the dominant emotion they signified. ‘That’s twisting my words!’
‘Not as you said them. Don’t you want to know why I’m of a mind to do away with my stick, Sienna?’
‘And that’s twisting my arm,’ she retorted.
‘I know a rather nice restaurant on the river,’ he remarked with his eyes full of amusement. ‘Their lobster and Moreton Bay bugs are amazing.’
Sienna opened her mouth and closed it. If she had one weakness it was fresh seafood and Moreton Bay bugs came at the top of that list. ‘Well,’ she said rather weakly, then eyed him accusingly. ‘How did you know that?’
He lifted an eyebrow enquiringly.
‘That I would sell my soul for Moreton Bay bugs.’ She shook her head exasperatedly.
He grinned. ‘I didn’t, but I like the sound of that.’
‘If you think I’m a pushover in any other direction, think again!’ she warned.
‘Perish the thought,’ he murmured, then laughed at her expression. ‘Sienna, I’m only asking you to have dinner with me.’
She exhaled audibly. ‘All right. Just this once. But I need to go home and change.’
‘Not a problem.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Give me your address and Dave and I will pick you up at, say, seven?’
Sienna drove home, still seething inwardly, but once there she went into another mode.
She showered and changed into a swirly, silky three-quarter-length skirt, a white background with a cinnamon pattern on it and a white knit top. She slid her feet into bronze sandals and looped her hair up into a loose knot.
She applied some discreet make-up, then studied herself in the mirror and decided that her upswept hair called for some dangly earrings. She found a pair, tiny seed pearls on copper wire, and put them on.
Then she stood quite still and asked herself why she was going out of her way to look her best when she’d been literally conned into this dinner.
Because that’s what Finn McLeod does to you, she conceded with a little spark of fire in her eyes. Puts you on your mettle even when you’re extremely annoyed with him!
Well, she conceded, annoyed with him and herself—you could have said no!
Dave knocked on her door at seven exactly and escorted her down to the waiting, latest model Mercedes. She climbed into the back, Finn was in the front, and she breathed in the scent of fine new leather.
But to her immediate consternation she saw that Finn was wearing a suit, although no tie.
‘Uh—what kind of restaurant are we going to?’ she asked as Dave drove them off.
‘Angelo’s,’ Finn replied.
Sienna clicked her tongue. Angelo’s was one of Brisbane’s most exclusive restaurants.
Finn turned his head towards her. ‘Is that a problem?’
‘I’m not dressed for Angelo’s. I’m dressed,’ Sienna said with precision, ‘for a rather nice restaurant on the river—which to me indicated somewhere casual and pleasant rather than five-star and extremely up-market.’ Her voice had risen a little.
‘I don’t see anything wrong with the way you’re dressed, but, to set your mind at rest, I’ve booked a table on the deck—it is more casual than the main restaurant.’
‘How on earth did you get a table—even on the deck—at such short notice?’
‘They know me.’
‘Silly question,’ Sienna muttered to herself, but any further utterances were forestalled as Dave drew up opposite the striped awning that protected the famous green brass-handled front doors of Angelo’s.
Sienna had never been to the restaurant but she’d heard of it; not only exquisite cuisine but one of the places to be seen in town.
The rumours hadn’t lied, she saw immediately. The décor was fabulous. Burgundy walls, champagne marble floors, soft, concealed lighting and forest-green velvet upholstery upon pale beech chairs. That pale glossy wood was repeated in the grand piano being played softly in the background.
And her eyes nearly popped at the number of celebrities she recognized. Not only that, but it was a glittering throng dressed to the nines, as Finn was greeted with reverence and ushered towards the deck. He was also stopped delightedly several times by other guests, at the same time as she was scanned from top to toe with a few raised eyebrows and the odd frown—but then immediate dismissal.
The analogy that sprang to mind had to do with her earrings. Pretty enough, but how could seed pearls on copper wire compete with the array of South Sea pearls glowing like moons, the diamonds and other gems that were displayed on the necks, ears, wrists and fingers of the female clientele of Angelo’s? Ditto her pretty but relatively inexpensive, definitely not designer outfit.
She set her teeth and raised her chin as they walked through to the deck.
It might be more casual than the main restaurant, but the deck was lovely. There were braziers flaming along the roped-off edge, potted palms swaying slightly in a gentle breeze and the crystal and silverware glinted on snowy white cloths.
When they were finally seated at the best table on the deck, with the river flowing past below their feet with reflected lights bobbing on its surface, she said, ‘Very impressive, Mr McLeod,’ but with an edge to her voice.
He eyed her narrowly. ‘Something tells me you don’t approve?’
‘Oh, I have no doubt I’ll approve of the bugs.’ She gestured. ‘I just feel a little out of place.’
He looked genuinely surprised. ‘Why?’
‘Everyone looks like a millionaire, if not to say a billionaire or a celebrity—’ she glanced around ‘—even on the deck. As for the prices—’ she glanced at the menu she’d been handed ‘—they’re little short of daylight robbery.’
‘Isn’t…’ He paused. ‘Couldn’t you be indulging in an inverted form of snobbery, Sienna?’
‘Well, actually, I’m all for quality, but I’m also a value-for-money girl. I could have taken you to a place where they do divine bugs for half the price, and the ambience isn’t bad either.’
He stared at her.
‘This is not exactly my milieu, Finn,’ she added gently. ‘It’s like another world, your world. It’s—’ she looked around ‘—very glamorous but a little bit false.’
‘I stand corrected,’ he said gravely. ‘Shall we go to your restaurant?’
Sienna’s eyes widened. ‘You mean stand up and walk out?’
He shrugged. ‘Why not?’
She blinked. ‘What will they think?’
‘Does it matter?’
It came to Sienna at that moment that this was the essence of being super-wealthy. Not only paying inflated prices for being surrounded by your peers and being seen on the social scene, but doing precisely as you pleased, and Finn McLeod did it in spades.
‘Er—no,’ she said. ‘I would feel bad, only on behalf of the staff, about doing that.’
‘So you’re happy to grin and bear it?’ he suggested.
‘I—I’ll tell you how I feel after I’ve sampled the bugs.’
