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Not that she worried about her weight. Nothing ever worried Nora Brown. She was easygoing, easy to please and easy to love. If she had a fault it was her tendency to be blunt with others at times. She was not rude, just a little tactless on occasion. Still, everyone loved her—especially her husband, Morris.
A very handsome man, Morris Brown could have had his pick of any number of local girls. He’d chosen Nora, who was short, plump, dark, and very ordinary-looking.
It was a tribute to Nora’s totally natural self-esteem that she had never found this in any way amazing. She accepted Morris’s love as her due, and loved him back with all the love in her ample bosom. Twenty-two years later, they still adored each other.
‘Did I hear a car coming?’ Nora asked hopefully.
‘Flying, more like it,’ Angie said.
Her mother stepped forward, dark eyes twinkling, a wide smile on her homely face. ‘I’ll bet that’s my Buddy driving. Dear me, but he’s a naughty boy when he gets behind the wheel of a car. I hope his father’s still down on the river flats and can’t see this.’
The car came into view, sending some gravel flying as it lurched around a corner on its way up the hill to the house. Red and gleaming, it had silver wheels and the top down.
The sounds of its manic approach sent the dogs shooting out from underneath the weatherboard house, barking in force. A motley lot, there was a brown kelpie named Betsie, a blue cattle-dog cross named Fang and a black Labrador who’d been a guide dog reject, suitably called Max, after the hero in Get Smart.
‘Betsie! Fang! Max!’ Nora called out. ‘Stop that racket and get yourselves back under the house before you get run over.’
All three dived for cover just as the red Mercedes Sports came to a screeching halt at the bottom of the front steps. It wasn’t her brother’s Mercedes, Angie knew, since he didn’t own a car, but it was Bud behind the wheel all right; she saw that straight away. He was grinning his head off as he glanced down at his watch.
‘Made it before noon by a whole thirty seconds!’ he exclaimed excitedly, then gave his passenger a smug look. ‘You owe me twenty dollars.’
The sound of a rich laugh sent Angie’s eyes swinging over to her brother’s friend, and her heart just stopped. As she stared his head turned slowly towards them, his hand lifting lazily to comb back his thick blond hair. He tipped up his perfectly sculptured face and set dancing blue eyes upon them, his laughing mouth showing dazzling white teeth and a dimple in his right cheek.
‘Hi,’ he said. ‘I’m Lance.’
‘Hi there, Mum,’ Bud called out. ‘Hope we didn’t scare the chooks too much.’
‘Yes, sorry about the ruckus, Mrs Brown,’ Bud’s friend apologised, still smiling that overwhelmingly engaging smile of his. ‘Your son here is insane when it comes to winning a bet.’
‘That’s all right, young man,’ Nora returned. ‘I already know my Buddy’s weaknesses, as well as his strengths. One seems to be picking very nice friends.’
Bud groaned. ‘For pity’s sake, Mum, don’t flatter him. He’s already got a head as big as the Sydney Harbour Bridge.’
‘I’ll flatter whomever I like in my own house, you cheeky pup,’ Nora pretended to reproach him. ‘Now, get yourself out of that fancy car, come up here and give your old mother a hug. You too, young man. I’m partial to hugs.’
‘Coming right up,’ Lance chuckled, and with an extraordinary amount of grace and athleticism, leapt out of the car without opening the door, landing on long legs which supported a body as perfect as his face. Angie had an excellent view of it, standing there, encased in hip-hugging jeans and a muscle-moulding white T-shirt. When his legs moved to propel him up the three steps it looked even better.
Lance had been long hugged by the time Bud made it out of the car and up the steps, by which time Lance had turned his attention to Angie.
‘Don’t tell me you’re Bud’s little sister?’ he drawled, those brilliant blue eyes of his narrowing upon her in a way which did incredible things to her insides. Her previously stopped heart was suddenly racing like a quarter horse in full gallop.
‘Do I get a hug from you too?’ he asked softly, not waiting for permission but immediately taking her in his arms and squeezing her tight.
After a moment’s shock, Angie closed her eyes and let the feel of his firm embrace wash through every pore of her body. It was an experience alien to anything she had ever felt before, making her face flush and her legs go to jelly.
Fear that she might slide down his body on to the veranda in a melted heap forced her to hug him back. But when she did so, he pulled her even more tightly against him, making her fiercely aware of the physical differences between males and females. Her breasts were squashed flat against the hard expanse of his broad chest, and there was a vague assortment of lumps and bumps pressing into her lower abdomen.
‘You can let her go now,’ Bud said, tapping Lance on the shoulder. ‘And don’t go getting any funny ideas about my sister. She’s only fifteen, you know.’
Lance pulled back to hold her at arm’s length, his hands still resting lightly on her hips as he looked her over a second time.
‘She looks older,’ he said, his voice once again having dropped to that low, lazy timbre which sent little shivers running down her spine.
‘Who, Angie?’ Bud sounded sceptical. ‘Nah, she’s just tall, the lucky devil.’
‘Five foot ten in her bare feet,’ her mother piped up proudly. ‘Takes after her father. Buddy here takes after me,’ she added, tousling her son’s black curly head.
‘Mum, stop that,’ Bud objected. ‘And stop calling me Buddy. You know I hate it.’
‘You liked it well enough for your first eighteen years, me lad. Don’t go letting life in the big city give you airs and graces. You haven’t been giving him airs and graces, have you, Lance?’
Finally, Lance’s hands slipped from Angie’s hips and she gulped a steadying breath. She did her best to look composed but she just knew her cheeks were flaming.
‘Not me, Mrs Brown,’ he said, looking away from Angie’s face at long last.
‘Didn’t think so. You seem a mighty fine boy—even if you are from a filthy rich family.’
‘Mum!’ Bud groaned.
‘Well, we all know money can spoil children,’ his mother stated quite ingenuously. ‘But I can see Lance here has grown up to be a credit to his mum and dad. Where is it that your parents have gone to, Lance?’
‘Europe, I think, Mrs Brown.’
Nora was taken aback. ‘Don’t you know?’
Lance’s shrug was nonchalant. ‘They don’t like to be tied down to a schedule. They just go with the flow.’
‘It seems a strange time to go away, just before Christmas,’ Nora muttered, frowning.
Angie had to agree with her. Christmas was for families.
‘Not to worry,’ her mother went on, linking arms with Lance and smiling broadly up at him. ‘You’re spending Christmas with us. We’ll look after you, won’t we, Angie?’
Vanessa gave a dry chortle. ‘I’ll bet your mother wouldn’t have made such an offer if she’d known how her guest wanted the daughter of the house to look after him. So what happened? How long before he made a pass? And how did you possibly resist him? He sounds gorgeous.’
Angie sighed, then slowed for a set of lights, stopping a little raggedly. ‘He didn’t make a pass. Not once. And he stayed with us most of the summer, right till the end of January.’
‘I don’t believe it! He was obviously attracted to you.’
‘Yes, I thought so too. And I was besotted with him. Followed him around like a puppy. Made every excuse to be wherever he was.’
‘Didn’t your brother mind that—his kid sister tagging along all the time?’
‘No. Our family has always done things together. Bud and Dad spent a lot of time that summer showing Lance how to do country-style things. They taught him how to ride, how to plough, how to shoot. By the end of his stay he could drill a beer can at one hundred yards. It was only natural for me to help. And who else would be stupid enough to stand around putting empty beer cans on fenceposts for hours?’
The lights turned green and Angie eased ahead in the heavy city-going traffic.
‘Did your family know you were ga-ga over him?’ Vanessa asked.
‘I don’t think so. As I said before, I’ve always been a private person. I didn’t wear my heart on my sleeve then any more than I do now. Certainly Dad and Bud never guessed. I think maybe Mum might have suspected something, though oddly enough she didn’t say anything at the time—which wasn’t like her at all. Maybe she was smart enough to see the passing nature of the situation and knew that any comment would have made my eventual agony worse.’
‘But Lance knew, didn’t he?’
‘Oh, yes…Lance knew…’
‘And how did he feel about you?’
Angle shrugged. ‘Who knows? I thought he cared for me. He certainly liked me, and I think you’re right in that he was attracted to me, but only in a superficial sense. I was only fifteen, after all. Of course I used to lie in bed every night fantasising that he was as secretly crazy about me as I was about him. I used to write the most sentimental poetry about him—reams of it. I also used to read something deep and meaningful into even the smallest attention he gave me. Every glance my way was a searing, passion-filled gaze in my adolescent mind. Every conversation we shared had hidden love messages behind it.’
Angie gave a soft, sad laugh. ‘The family had a habit of sitting out on the front veranda every night, looking up at the stars and talking. On a few occasions the others went off to bed, leaving Lance and me alone. You’ve no idea how that set my teenage heart a-beating. Only a fifteen-year-old fool would wind romantic dreams around idle chit-chat.’
‘What did you talk about?’
‘Nothing important. Just general stuff. Movies. Music. Books. Poetry. Looking back, I think Lance was only humouring me by claiming to find my tastes and opinions incredibly sensible and mature.’
‘Maybe not, Angie,’ her flatmate argued. ‘You’re a deep thinker, and maybe too sensible for your own good, I’m beginning to think. Far too sensitive, too. I can just picture you at fifteen. Very beautiful but very intense. Perhaps he didn’t make a pass at you because that very intensity frightened him off.’
‘Did I say he didn’t make a pass at me? Yes, of course I did. Perfectly true, in fact. He didn’t. He didn’t have to. It was stupid me who made the pass. Eventually.’
Vanessa’s head whipped round to stare over at her. ‘You did? Good Lord! When? Where?’
‘It was the night before he went back to Sydney. Out on the front veranda.’
‘What on earth did you do? Do tell.’
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_801dde0a-6ebe-5006-a103-972a41e14dde)
GO TO bed, Angie willed desperately. Please go to bed. He’s going home tomorrow. Don’t you understand? I need to be alone with him!
Angie got the shock of her life when her mother immediately rose and announced her intention to retire for the night. When her father quickly followed, then Bud five minutes later, Angie thanked the Lord for His mercy. She swiftly moved from where she’d been perched up on the veranda railing to sit down next to Lance on the steps, her heart thudding at her boldness.
Lance was dressed in shorts and a singlet top, Angie in similar garb. The day had been hot and the night air was only just beginning to cool. Not that Angie felt cold. Sitting this close to Lance was a highly warming experience.
She stared down at her long brown legs, then over at his, tanned to a golden bronze by the long summer days. Her left thigh was barely an inch from his. If she moved it slightly, their skin would touch. She kept perfectly still, knowing her boldness did not extend that far.
‘You don’t get night skies like this down in Sydney,’ he mused, sighing and leaning back a little, the movement making his thigh brush against hers.
Angle jerked her feet up on to a higher step, her knees pressed together to stop them from trembling. So much for her boldness! ‘I…I wouldn’t know,’ she said shakily.
‘Your mum tells me you’re going to come to Sydney to university when you finish school,’ he said.
‘I hope to. If Dad can afford it. Let’s hope we don’t have a drought or a flood during the next three years.’
Lance frowned, as though it would never have occurred to him that one’s fortunes could depend on the weather. ‘If that happens, I’ll pay for you myself.’
‘Oh, I couldn’t let you do that!’ she exclaimed, despite being thrilled that he had offered. ‘The Browns always pay for themselves.’
Lance sighed. ‘So I’ve gathered from Bud. Damn it all, Angie, you must come to Sydney.’
‘Must I?’ she croaked. Her eyes locked with his and her heart filled to overflowing. He feels the same as me, she thought dazedly. He just thinks I’m too young for him to say anything. This is his way of saying he’ll wait for me.
‘Not that I’m sure I’d like you going to Sydney Uni,’ he muttered, but Angie wasn’t really listening any more. She was drowning in his beautiful blue eyes, thinking how wonderful he was and that she wanted him to kiss her more than anything else in the world. She would just die if he went back to Sydney without kissing her.
‘What course do you want to do?’ he asked.
‘What? Oh…er…an arts degree, majoring in psychology, if I get a high enough mark. If not, I’ll do a degree in Social Welfare. I want to work with people, you see. I want to help solve some of the social problems of the world.’
‘That’s a tall order, Angie—solving the world’s social problems. But I think it’s fantastic that you want to try. So, tell me, what do you see as the world’s main social problem?’
‘That’s a hard one. There are so many problems. Look, this is probably a simplistic approach but I think if people made their lives simpler they’d be happier. The Western world is moving too far away from the family unit and family values. I’d like to encourage people to be more serious about marriage and their commitment to raising children, to appreciate how much time it takes to do both well.’
‘And do you want marriage and children for yourself? Or will you settle for a career?’
‘I don’t see why I can’t have both. Of course, my career would always play second fiddle to my family. My husband and children would always come first with me.’
‘Mmm, I see I’ll have to keep a close eye on you when you get to Sydney, or some smart bastard will whisk you off to the altar before you can say licketysplit!’
‘You…you won’t have to worry about that happening, Lance. There’ll only ever be one man for me.’ Having gone this far, she turned her head and stared him straight in the eye.
Those eyes flared briefly wide with surprise, before narrowing to an expression he’d never bestowed on her before. His darkened gaze moved slowly over her face, dropping at last to her softly parted lips then down to where her breasts were clearly outlined against the thin material of her top. Suddenly, she knew what it was like to be the target of a man’s desire. A man’s, not a boy’s. She felt her body respond, everything all at once hot and tight and tingling. Her face flamed along with the rest of her.
‘You’re only fifteen,’ he said abruptly, as though reminding himself.
‘I won’t be fifteen forever,’ she returned breathlessly.
‘True…But when you grow up, you might change your ideas about who and what you want.’
‘No, I won’t,’ she said, her voice firming. ‘Mum says I’m as stubborn as old Wally Robinson’s bull. I’ll feel the same way about you in three years as I feel now.’
She shook his head, obviously still troubled by the situation.
‘Wait here,’ she whispered, and, jumping up, raced inside to her bedroom, returning within no time.
‘I wrote this the first week you came,’ she said, and pressed the piece of paper into his hands.
He read the poem in dead silence before folding the page and putting it down on the step, shaking his head all the while. For a long moment Angie thought she’d made an utter fool of herself. But then he looked up at her and she knew…She just knew she’d been right. He did feel the same.
‘Oh, Angie,’ he said softly. ‘Sweet…sweet Angie.’ And he reached out to touch her face lightly.
His fingertips were like flicks of fire against her already heated cheek, at the same time igniting other flames throughout her body. The words fell out of her mouth—reckless, breathless words.
‘Kiss me, Lance. Kiss me…’
‘You can’t stop there!’ Vanessa wailed when Angie suddenly fell silent. By this time they’d reached the block of units in North Sydney where they lived, parked in the underground garage and were making their way up the internal staircase to their neat little second floor unit.
‘What happened?’ she persisted.
Once she recovered her composure, Angie smiled wryly at Vanessa’s enthusiasm for her story. Underneath her hard-boiled exterior, she was a romantic—like most females.
