willing…After all, the child had to go to bed at some time, didn’t he?
Something about that thought seemed off kilter. He dragged a hand down his face. He’d think about it tomorrow, after he’d had a decent night’s sleep. At the moment, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to form a sensible thought to save himself.
Kate led him through the house via a crooked, higgledy-piggledy hallway to a double glass sliding door at the back. She pulled it open and stepped outside. ‘There.’ She flung her arms wide. ‘What do you think?’
Simon forced his gaze from the tempting curves and delights of her body, from the ravishing vision of having those arms wrapped around him, and forced his eyes to the view she indicated.
He blinked and sucked in a breath. When he let it out again a sense of calm—totally at odds with the storm raging through him moments before—descended over him.
‘Amazing, isn’t it?’ she whispered.
‘Utterly.’ He found himself speaking quietly too, not wanting to break the stillness, the sense of tranquillity. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so at peace.
‘When she first saw this view, it was one of only two times I ever saw Felice at a loss for words.’
He could understand that. Spread out before them, calm and smooth, touched with orange and gold as the sun started to set, was a bay as wide as he’d ever seen. The view was unimpeded all the way out to the sea horizon. Below them was a strip of green—a park lined with gums and flame trees—and, beyond that, away to the right, a strip of white beach.
‘What was the second?’
‘The second what?’
She didn’t turn to meet his gaze, but continued to gobble up the view, to guzzle it as if it renewed her somehow, topped up the reserves the day had depleted. Simon suddenly wished he’d left the question unasked, that he’d left her to enjoy her view in peace.
‘Second what?’ she repeated, glancing at him.
‘The second time you saw Felice at a loss for words?’
Her eyes became gentle at some memory, but she shook her head. ‘That isn’t a story for today. I’ll leave Felice to tell it.’
‘Mum!’
Simon swung around to find a sandy-haired boy racingtowards them from the garden next door. When he glanced back at Kate, a smile lit her face with so much joy it stole his breath.
The child flung his arms around her waist. ‘I got a six! I got a six!’
‘Woo hoo!’
Simon blinked as he watched them do a victory dance. At least that was what he figured the tangle of limbs and jumping in the air was meant to indicate.
‘And I clean bowled two of them!’
They performed more victory dancing. Over Jesse’s head Kate grinned at him, completely oblivious to his consternation—for which he was grateful.
‘Jesse is cricket mad,’ she explained.
Then she waved to someone who stood on the deck of the house next door. ‘Thanks, Flora. I hope he wasn’t any trouble.’
‘None at all. He and Nick keep each other occupied.’
Good Lord—there was another child? He could tell at a glance that this one wasn’t Kate’s, though.
With a wave, Flora and the child disappeared back inside their house.
‘Flora minds Jesse for me most afternoons. Just for an hour or so until I get home.’ She cuddled her son close. ‘And this, of course, is Jesse.’
An ache thumped to life in Simon’s chest and was echoed behind his eyes. Why did mothers always expect a person to find their children adorable?
‘Jesse, this is Felice’s brother…’
She glanced up at him expectantly. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, not sure what she expected from him. Most of his friends kept their children firmly hidden. Which suited him just fine.
‘Would you prefer Simon or Mr Morton-Blake?’ she started slowly, as if he were a child too. Her eyes suddenly danced mischief. ‘Or Lord—’
‘Simon will be fine,’ he cut in quickly.
He stared at Jesse. Jesse stared back at him. Then,
Something about that thought seemed off kilter. He dragged a hand down his face. He’d think about it tomorrow, after he’d had a decent night’s sleep. At the moment, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to form a sensible thought to save himself.
Kate led him through the house via a crooked, higgledy-piggledy hallway to a double glass sliding door at the back. She pulled it open and stepped outside. ‘There.’ She flung her arms wide. ‘What do you think?’
Simon forced his gaze from the tempting curves and delights of her body, from the ravishing vision of having those arms wrapped around him, and forced his eyes to the view she indicated.
He blinked and sucked in a breath. When he let it out again a sense of calm—totally at odds with the storm raging through him moments before—descended over him.
‘Amazing, isn’t it?’ she whispered.
‘Utterly.’ He found himself speaking quietly too, not wanting to break the stillness, the sense of tranquillity. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so at peace.
‘When she first saw this view, it was one of only two times I ever saw Felice at a loss for words.’
He could understand that. Spread out before them, calm and smooth, touched with orange and gold as the sun started to set, was a bay as wide as he’d ever seen. The view was unimpeded all the way out to the sea horizon. Below them was a strip of green—a park lined with gums and flame trees—and, beyond that, away to the right, a strip of white beach.
‘What was the second?’
‘The second what?’
She didn’t turn to meet his gaze, but continued to gobble up the view, to guzzle it as if it renewed her somehow, topped up the reserves the day had depleted. Simon suddenly wished he’d left the question unasked, that he’d left her to enjoy her view in peace.
‘Second what?’ she repeated, glancing at him.
‘The second time you saw Felice at a loss for words?’
Her eyes became gentle at some memory, but she shook her head. ‘That isn’t a story for today. I’ll leave Felice to tell it.’
‘Mum!’
Simon swung around to find a sandy-haired boy racingtowards them from the garden next door. When he glanced back at Kate, a smile lit her face with so much joy it stole his breath.
The child flung his arms around her waist. ‘I got a six! I got a six!’
‘Woo hoo!’
Simon blinked as he watched them do a victory dance. At least that was what he figured the tangle of limbs and jumping in the air was meant to indicate.
‘And I clean bowled two of them!’
They performed more victory dancing. Over Jesse’s head Kate grinned at him, completely oblivious to his consternation—for which he was grateful.
‘Jesse is cricket mad,’ she explained.
Then she waved to someone who stood on the deck of the house next door. ‘Thanks, Flora. I hope he wasn’t any trouble.’
‘None at all. He and Nick keep each other occupied.’
Good Lord—there was another child? He could tell at a glance that this one wasn’t Kate’s, though.
With a wave, Flora and the child disappeared back inside their house.
‘Flora minds Jesse for me most afternoons. Just for an hour or so until I get home.’ She cuddled her son close. ‘And this, of course, is Jesse.’
An ache thumped to life in Simon’s chest and was echoed behind his eyes. Why did mothers always expect a person to find their children adorable?
‘Jesse, this is Felice’s brother…’
She glanced up at him expectantly. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, not sure what she expected from him. Most of his friends kept their children firmly hidden. Which suited him just fine.
‘Would you prefer Simon or Mr Morton-Blake?’ she started slowly, as if he were a child too. Her eyes suddenly danced mischief. ‘Or Lord—’
‘Simon will be fine,’ he cut in quickly.
He stared at Jesse. Jesse stared back at him. Then,
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