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Della watched her leave, before placing her drink on an end table and taking the opportunity to nip into the nearest bathroom. Fixing her make-up, she thought for the millionth time that she was lucky to have Lyn as her friend. She’d always felt that way. Ever since the day at the beach when they’d been fourteen and Lyn had come to her rescue, paying for the fish and chips Della had ordered before finding she didn’t have enough money for them. Rigid with embarrassment, she’d stood by while Lyn had stepped in, paid for her order, insisted on buying her a cold drink, and stayed by her side for the rest of the day.
Della shook her head. That day was as clear to her as if it had happened yesterday. Lyn probably didn’t even remember it.
Before parting from her new friend, Della had made a careful note of her address, intending to repay her as soon as she could scrape together the money. But, when she’d finally made it, she’d stood at the wrought-iron gate, too scared to press down on the heavy catch.
Then Luke had arrived. To her, he’d seemed much more than one year older. He had such a physical presence even then. Muscular from playing football. Tall. Of course, it didn’t help that she was such a tiny thing. He’d towered over her and would have scared her if not for his smile. That mind-melting, breath-stealing, knee-weakening smile.
Della sighed and tossed the make-up into her bag. Emerging from the bathroom, she heard a commotion near the front door.
‘It’s a taxi. It’s them!’
Della recognised the voice as Lyn’s younger sister, Megan. Poppy, the baby of the family at twenty-five, called to her mother and Dawn’s excited voice joined the mix.
Della didn’t go to them. Time for family. Real family. As inclusive as they’d always been, she wasn’t real family. Back in the lounge, she picked up her glass and made for the French doors which opened to an expansive deck. She leaned on the waist-high balustrade and sipped her drink while gazing down on the established garden. Dense shrubs screened out the neighbours, and low-growing plants packed the curving flower beds. She’d always loved this garden. So different from the weed-infested lawn and corrugated fencing of her parents’ place. She soaked up the sense of peace the garden offered. She needed it more than ever.
‘There you are, Shrimp.’
Della gave a violent start, sending a minor flood of margarita onto the lawn below. Luke’s deep and teasing voice was unmistakeable. It had the same effect on her it always had, making her nerves jump to attention, ready to react to every provocative word he said. She turned.
Oh God, he looked amazing. The last time she’d seen him, his dark-blond hair had been short, but he’d changed jobs since then and his hair had grown past his collar. More like the young Luke. Casual. She guessed appearances didn’t matter so much now he wasn’t on TV any more.
His smile widened as he observed the so-called glass in her hand. Her hand tightened, as did her stomach. That killer smile had no doubt served him well. Even a hardened, gun-toting rebel couldn’t refuse an interview when faced with such a smile.
His warm grey eyes twinkled as he raised them to her face. ‘You must be thirsty,’ he said.
Suppressing the urge to fling herself at him, she shrugged. ‘Stress relief,’ she said, regretting the words the moment they left her lips. Even more so when he frowned.
‘A hard day at work,’ she said quickly.
His frown deepened. ‘Don’t you like your job?’
‘Yes, of course I do. You don’t need me to tell you work can be stressful, no matter how much you enjoy it.’
He should know if anyone did. For ten years as a foreign correspondent, he’d travelled the world’s hot spots, mainly in Asia, covering stories of conflict and disaster. He’d pioneered solo-journalism, working completely alone, travelling and reporting without a crew, carrying a backpack of portable digital technology to shoot, write, edit and transmit multimedia reports. He hadn’t chased headlines or taken part in pack journalism, but had specialised in pursuing stories that were not getting mainstream news coverage and putting a human face to them.
Della lifted the glass and gulped a mouthful of margarita. Too much. When she’d managed to swallow it, she said, ‘Well, anyway, what about you? How are you?’
‘Fine.’ He watched her for a moment. ‘So where’s my kiss? My hug? I’ve had them from everyone else. I haven’t been around for a while, in case you haven’t noticed.’
‘Oh. Yes.’ Leaning forward, she gave him an awkward, one-armed hug while she held the glass well out of the way.
He hugged her back, tighter than necessary. She could feel the heat of his body through his shirt, and a heat of a different kind rushed through her own body. It reminded her what it was like to be—to feel—attracted to a man. Then he kissed her on the cheek. She pulled away in a hurry.
His grin gave her the impression he knew why. But he couldn’t. There’d never been anything physical between them. Never. Not even the suggestion of an attraction. He couldn’t possibly know.
She let her gaze slide over his face. His nose still had the slight kink in the middle from the time Lyn had dared him to skateboard down a handrail. Lyn had blamed herself when he’d landed face-first on the concrete steps. She should have known better than to issue a challenge to Luke. He’d never backed away from a challenge. Not then. Not later.
He intercepted her gaze and held it. ‘You look great, Shrimp. Not a day older than when I first left.’
She couldn’t say the same for him. The dangerous and outdoor life he’d led had added plenty of lines around his eyes. Lines that creased deeply when he smiled. But that wasn’t a bad thing. Age had added character to a face she would once have called perfect.
She gave a tiny snort. ‘Don’t they have opticians where you’ve been living?’
He ignored her question. ‘I like what you’ve done with your hair. Short suits you. It’s sophisticated.’
‘For a shrimp?’
‘It wasn’t short last time I came over, was it?’
‘No, I only had it cut recently.’ Not that he’d have noticed on that trip three years ago, she thought. He’d had eyes for no one but his new wife. She doubted her own presence had even registered with him.
He hadn’t shaved in a while, probably on account of the long flight. On him, the look wasn’t so much scruffy as sexy. Her nerve endings twitched again. Her reaction to Luke contrasted sharply with the antipathy she’d felt for the men she’d dated over the last few years. She’d almost had to force herself to take a physical interest, and had begun to think she wasn’t capable of it. This was a bad time to find out she was.
Suddenly feeling overdressed in her business suit next to Luke’s torn jeans and battered denim jacket, her eyes widened. ‘Is that the same jacket you had when we were kids?’
He nodded. ‘I wondered if you’d recognise it.’
‘Your job must pay poorly if you can’t afford some decent clothes.’ Since he’d given up the journalism and taken up running an orphanage, she guessed he’d taken a big drop in salary. But he would never be poor. His grandfather had left a trust fund that would see him through.
He shrugged. ‘I won’t part with this jacket. It has sentimental value.’
She gave him a sceptical look, and he laughed. ‘Plus, it’s comfortable.’
‘And comfort clearly ranks highly in your world. Why else would you hike through the mountains of Afghanistan—?’
‘Now Luke, you’re not teasing Della, are you?’
Della turned towards Dawn as she joined them on the deck.
‘We had enough of these games when you were kids,’ Dawn said.
‘Actually, I’ve complimented her new hairstyle.’ He slid an arm around his mother’s waist and hugged her to his side. ‘But she doesn’t believe she looks gorgeous.’
Dawn beamed up at him. ‘I don’t blame her, considering how you used to torment her. But it is lovely, isn’t it?’ She turned back to study Della. ‘I think it makes her look like Audrey Hepburn.’
‘As if.’ Della laughed. ‘You’re deluded, Dawn. And you, Luke, are the last person I’d believe.’
She was proud of herself. She sounded cool, calm and collected. No one would guess she felt the complete opposite. No one would know she’d spent more than half her life comparing every man who’d come near her with this one, rejecting every one of them because they fell short of her ideal.
‘I thought you were bringing Yvonne with you,’ Dawn said to Luke. ‘You haven’t left her back in India, have you?’
Luke’s gaze slid away for a moment. When he looked back, his expression was blank.
‘Yes, she’s still there as far as I know. I’ll explain when we’re all together.’
Curiosity sparked in Dawn’s eyes. ‘Well, let’s eat,’ she said. ‘Come through to the dining room.’
As they took their places around the large oak dining-table, Della wished she really did belong to this family. This was what she’d always wanted for her own children—a home filled with warmth and laughter.
She looked down, spreading the linen napkin across her lap and fighting the sting in her eyes.
No chance of that now.
CHAPTER TWO
‘ARE you really home to stay?’ Poppy said through a mouthful of salad.
Luke looked at his little sister. He found it hard to believe that she’d grown up so much since he’d last seen her. ‘How many times do I have to say it?’ he said with feigned exasperation.
‘Yeah, I know, but really?’ Poppy said. ‘Won’t you be bored?’
Luke shrugged. ‘Don’t think so.’
‘But there are no wars around here. Nothing bad ever happens in Adelaide.’
‘Thank God for it,’ Dawn said. ‘We are very lucky to live in one of the safest cities on earth. I should think Luke’s had quite enough of war and poverty and the like. If he has the sense he was born with, he’ll want to stay well away from all of that.’
He smiled at his mother. She’d never missed an opportunity to tell him he was crazy for choosing to make his home where he had. But she’d never criticised him either. Though she couldn’t understand his choices, she’d always respected his right to make them.
Both his parents had. His gaze drifted to his father. His salt-and-pepper hair was now almost all salt. He hoped he hadn’t caused him too much worry over the years.
Next to their father, his sister Megan was deep in discussion with their brother-in-law, Patrick. It seemed Lyn’s marriage had not only survived, but thrived. His gaze moved on to Lyn, the baby in her arms and her son at her side. His niece and nephew. He’d have time to get to know them better now, and he fully intended to.
Skinny Lynnie, as he’d always called her, had gained weight. It suited her. She caught his eye and gave him a cheeky wink. He grinned back. So close in age, they’d been more like best friends than brother and sister. All three of them, in fact. His gaze shifted to Della, the third member of their little gang.
If he thought his sisters had changed, he couldn’t find words to describe the transformation in Della. She was still small and slender, but more confident. More sure of herself and her appeal. She looked…serene. As if nothing could ruffle her. And she exuded femininity. Her beautifully cut, very short hair showed off great cheekbones, and he liked the way her neck curved above the collar of her business jacket. In the past, it had been hidden by a swathe of long, dark hair which had often fallen across her face. A shield between her and the world.
She must have grown out of her shyness to have cut her hair. Well, it had never really been shyness. More like embarrassment for who she was and where she’d come from.
Della lifted her head to look at Lyn and her eyes nearly knocked him out. Large, dark and slightly slanted. She’d accentuated their shape with make-up, and he had to admit her eyes were a striking feature without the long hair obscuring them.
He continued to watch her, couldn’t bring himself to look away. She smiled as she chatted to Lyn, fussed over Jamie, teased Poppy. But her eyes…They didn’t smile. He could almost believe she was sad. But why, when she seemed to have everything going for her?
Not grieving for her parents, surely? They didn’t deserve a second thought from her. His gut tightened. A whole raft of memories came flooding back. Amongst other things, he remembered his mother taking Della to the doctor and telling him later that Della’s small size was a result of malnutrition during her formative years.
In recent times, he’d seen plenty of children suffering from malnutrition, and it made his blood boil to think it had happened to Della and here, in Australia, one of the more affluent countries in the world. He knew his own parents had considered initiating adoption proceedings, but something must have gone wrong. They would have adopted her if they could.
As he watched her, Della smiled down at Jamie. When her lips parted and she moistened them with the tip of her tongue, Luke experienced a subtle shift in his stomach. It felt a lot like sexual attraction, but it couldn’t be.
‘So what are you going to do, son?’
Luke jerked his gaze from Della and leaned back in his chair as he focused on his father. ‘About what?’
‘Work.’
He smiled. ‘I’ve had a job offer.’
‘You have?’ Frank mopped at his mouth with his napkin.
He nodded. ‘It’s not finalised yet, so I don’t want to say much about it, but it’s with the charity I’ve been working for in India.’
‘And it’s here in Adelaide?’
‘Yes.’
A clatter drew Luke’s eyes to Della again, and he saw her cheeks grow pink as she retrieved her fork from the floor.
‘Talking of jobs, Shrimp, when are you going to desert the enemy?’
The colour in her cheeks deepened. ‘Enemy?’
‘Okay, enemy is a bit strong.’ He shrugged. ‘But you public relations people, you’re the gatekeepers. The ones who stop hard-working journos like me from getting at the nitty gritty.’
She frowned. ‘Without PR people like me, you journos would have to work a hell of a lot harder. We do most of the work for you by providing all the information you need.’
‘All the information you want us to have, you mean.’
‘Without us, you’d have to get off your backsides and look for the stories yourselves.’ She felt a stab of guilt at using this old argument against Luke, who could never be accused of taking the easy way out. He was far removed from that type, but she was on the defensive. She went on. She couldn’t help herself.
‘The vast majority of items in the news have been initiated by PR, whether in-house specialists or external consultants—’
‘Oh, I admit there are some lazy journos around. Some of them should be ashamed of themselves. They regurgitate a press release and put their by-line on it. No, I’m referring to those of us who care about getting at the truth, and who find our way blocked by PR people tidying up the messes left by their corporate clients.’
‘Now, now, Luke,’ Dawn said, wagging a finger at him. ‘You know he doesn’t mean it, Della. He’s trying to get you to bite, like he always did. Ignore him.’ She turned back to Luke. ‘Della is very good at her job so you leave her alone. She’s in line for a big promotion, too. Very highly thought of, our Della.’
‘And you’re not even a journalist any more,’ Lyn piped up. ‘You haven’t been for what, three years?’
He smiled. ‘But I’m still allowed to defend the profession.’
His mother was half right. Though he did enjoy teasing Della, he was semi-serious. He didn’t like to think of her on the side of some of the corporate creeps he’d encountered over the years. But this wasn’t the time or place to bring that subject up. He grinned at Della, and her lovely mouth gave him an answering smile before she turned away to help Jamie cut his meat.
‘You said you would explain about Yvonne,’ Dawn said. ‘Is she travelling alone? Or will you be going back for her? What’s going on?’
‘Ah.’ He took a mouthful of wine and let the rich, fruity flavour swirl around his mouth before swallowing. He put down the glass and leaned his elbows on the table, linking his hands. ‘I’m afraid I have some news. Yvonne and I have broken up. She won’t be coming here.’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t know where she is right now, and to be honest I don’t care.’
He looked down at his plate while a silence settled over the table, each person absorbing his news. His grip tightened. It wasn’t news to him but it was still difficult to talk about.
‘You’re getting divorced?’ his mother asked eventually.
‘Yes. It’s already underway.’
‘But this is so sudden. Your last email said you were both fine.’
He grimaced. ‘Well, we were. We just weren’t together. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but it’s been over for a while.’
‘Have you tried counselling?’
‘No.’ He snorted. ‘Believe me, there’s no point.’
