Catch of The Day: Destiny Romance (21 page)

Even Winnie’s mum’s birthday gift had apparently got waylaid in the mail. Knowing her, it would probably wind up in Kingston-on-Murray – or Kingston, Jamaica.

‘Did you find your friend?’

Winnie looked up from her phone to the bus driver. ‘Uh, no. I – I got the dates mixed up. Sorry. You’re right. She’s not here.’

He shot her an odd look. Dropping her hand to her side, she hurried towards her car, head down. A noisy beep stopped her in her tracks and she thrust her phone back up to face level. A text from Bruna.

Soz, Winnie-doll, it read. Just got ur msg. I meant 2 ring & tell u I cdnt make this weekend – hvnt been feeling 100 per cent. Think its the flu. Hv a big bday drink 4 me tho & c u real soon. Must, MUST reschedule xo.

Reschedule?

My arse.

Winnie inhaled sharply. Bruna’s Facebook selfie was the equivalent of taking a sick day from work and wafting nonchalantly into the cinemas next door to catch a flick. And ‘soz’ wasn’t even a real word. Did Bruna really think she was
that
stupid? That she wouldn’t glance at Facebook at least once on her birthday and spy the selfie?
Grr.
Bruna could have just told her she’d had second thoughts about the trip and didn’t want to come. That she knew the fantasy version of the country in her books wouldn’t live up to the cold, hard reality. Winnie, of all people, would have understood.

Throwing open the door of her Echo, Winnie sat in the driver’s seat, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel, adrenalin coursed through her veins. The night was still young. And it was her birthday, for Pete’s sake. She could do better than some cheap pub meal. Yup, she knew exactly who she was going to call – a certain handsome male with a name starting with A.

She had nothing to lose and everything to gain, at least pleasure-wise. A girl could change her mind, throw caution to the wind, especially on one day of the year. She was tired of doing the right thing rather than giving in to what her body craved. Besides, she’d cooled down since their spat, seen sense. And she was leaving town soon. What was the harm in just going with the flow?

At least she’d been told in no uncertain terms what she was in for; she had no illusions. She’d read the fine print. So long, of course, as her heart stayed on the same page.

Winnie watched Alex lean against her lounge wall, the fabric of his grey T-shirt straining against his taut muscles.

‘I didn’t expect to hear from you. Not so soon,’ he said gently. ‘Why the change of heart?’

‘I guess I changed my mind about things. Realised I’d overreacted a little.’ She shrugged. ‘Plus, it’s my birthday, so sue me.’

Alex’s mouth twisted. ‘You know I have to leave early for fishing tomorrow?’

Maybe it was the half-bottle of organic wine she’d slugged before he’d turned up on her doorstep, but Winnie suddenly felt bold. Moistening her lips, she stepped closer and tugged at his worn belt, overlooking the fact it was obviously made of leather. ‘Who needs sleep?’

It was time to be reckless. So fooling around with Alex was wrong on many levels. So he couldn’t offer her anything concrete, despite what she craved. What did the teenagers say? YOLO – you only live once. Or YODO – you only
die
once.

He leant towards her enticingly, the soft, pink flesh of his mouth inching toward hers. A grumbling sound suddenly caused him to stop in his tracks. He moved back again, disappointingly, clutching his stomach. ‘Sorry.’

‘You’re hungry.’ Winnie stated the obvious. ‘Let me make you something to eat first.’

He grabbed her wrists as she began to spin in the direction of the kitchen, stopping her. ‘No, it’s your birthday. Let’s get takeaway.’

‘I
want
to cook for you, though. You’re my guest. And you made lunch for me before.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s my turn.’

He entwined his fingers with hers, which made her feel slightly giddy, like she was back on the cray boat. Even though she knew their time together had an expiry date. ‘If it makes you happy, birthday girl,’ he said softly.

Mentally, she ran through her fridge’s contents. ‘Hmm, let me think . . . Maybe I could make cauliflower steaks with olive relish and tomato sauce? Does that sound okay?’

He tapped her on the nose teasingly. ‘Cauliflower’s not steak.’

‘Haha, I’ll convert you yet,’ Winnie shot back. ‘Okay, what about eggplant parmigiana? My mum did teach me
some
things, including handing down a kick-arse parmigiana recipe.’ So it was one of only a few recipes in Winnie’s repertoire. That was mere detail.

‘Sounds good, Win.’

Her stomach flipped. She liked it when he shortened her name. It felt . . . intimate. Then he leant in to kiss her and she just about melted on the spot.

Moments later, the saucepan was bubbling away on the stovetop and the warmth of the oven filled the room. At the kitchen bench, Winnie worked at laying eggplant slices on the base of a baking dish.

Alex grabbed Casper, who was wandering past, and tickled the tabby under its chin. The cat bell jangled.

‘Be careful – he doesn’t like being picked up much,’ Winnie warned. ‘He has fangs.’

‘Ah, he seems happy enough. Although,’ Alex held the cat out at arm’s length, ‘his breath’s not the best. Reminds of my grandma when she’s eaten too much tzatziki.’

‘It’s not his fault. It’s his fishy cat food.’ Suddenly, Winnie peeked at Alex beneath lowered lashes. ‘Tzatziki. So you’re Greek then?’

Alex stole a carrot slice from the benchtop, crunching it in his mouth, his expression unreadable. ‘Maybe, maybe not.’

With a sigh, Winnie turned her attention back to the eggplant. ‘Here we go again – the enigma act,’ she murmured. ‘Sometimes spending time with you is like starting a movie halfway through and trying to guess the beginning.’

Alex reached to touch her arm, the warmth of his fingertips radiating through her skin. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just the way it has to be right now. It’s nothing personal.’

Her gaze snagged with his, then she looked away, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip. Someone or some
thing
from his past must have really hurt him. There had to be a good reason he put up so many barriers. She’d let it slide for the moment.

Dinner served, they sat together at a folding card table Winnie had unearthed from the local op shop. Each time his knees nudged hers, she felt the blood zip through her body. The carrot and celery in the dish were a little crunchy, but the meal was passable. Alex even asked for a second helping, although she was sure he was only being nice.

When they were finished, Winnie stood up to clear the plates. But Alex suddenly clamped a hand over her wrist. ‘Leave them. I’ll wash up later.’

She licked her dry lips. Well, she couldn’t say no to that.

Despite Bruna’s no-show, the spare mattress Winnie had borrowed from Olive still came in handy. Dirty dishes abandoned, Alex carefully laid her on her back, slowly removing items of clothing one by one, placing tantalising kisses on her skin as it was exposed. Winnie shivered as his mouth and hands worked lower. And lower. She tugged on strands of his hair and breathed in his earthy, masculine scent. It was so different from kissing the clean-cut, ultra-polished Grant. More raw. So much better.

Between insistent kisses, Alex was ripping his T-shirt over his head and she was fumbling with his belt. Then he was above Winnie, filling her, and her whole body was flooded with heat. She clawed at his broad shoulders as the insistent pulse inside her gave way to wave after wave of ecstasy. Finally, her body stilled, her skin still tingling. Alex rolled onto his side.

‘Well . . .’ she panted, clutching at the sheets, staring at the ceiling in the semi-darkness. The room seemed to spin. Everything suddenly felt brighter, sweeter, more intense.

‘Well,’ his voice echoed, just as breathlessly, beside her.

Their enjoyment of the afterglow was interrupted by a sudden, faint scratching at the door.

Winnie’s stomach corkscrewed. She glanced wide-eyed at Alex, then they both broke into a grin.

‘Casper,’ she whispered.

Alex leant forwards for another kiss and Winnie felt her toes curl in delight.

A beep sounded outside Winnie’s unit the next morning. She ran to peer out the glass and found Alex, back from fishing, behind the wheel of Kirk’s black HiLux four-wheel drive. A smile lit her up, from her mouth to her toes.

She slid open the door, swinging on it one-handed, feeling flirty. ‘Where’s your ute?’

‘Back home.’ Alex grinned. ‘I thought as a birthday surprise I’d take you four-wheel driving in the sand dunes in Robe. If you’re keen. Didn’t think you’d have done anything like it in the city.’

‘Ooh, I’m in. Let me get my sunscreen!’

Winnie raced back inside her unit, grateful she’d changed into a summery floral dress in case Alex happened to swing by. He was obviously enjoying the joy of the night before just as much as she was. She did a quick check of her make-up in the bathroom mirror before rushing to fetch her sun lotion.

Four-wheel driving definitely wasn’t something she’d ever done before to celebrate her birthday. Right then, though, it sounded much better than queuing for a drink at a cocktail lounge or chowing on tapas wearing a too-tight dress she could barely sit down in.

So hanging out with Alex, behaving all lovey-dovey – for a limited time – felt a bit like playacting, like paying a paparazzo to follow you around as a ‘celebrity for a day’ – it wasn’t exactly
real
. But Winnie had had enough negative stuff to deal with lately; didn’t she deserve a little fun? So long as she went into it with her eyes wide open – unlike with Grant –it was harmless. Right?

She slid into the passenger seat and Alex leant forwards to kiss her hello, his seatbelt straining across his buff, T-shirted chest. As he neared, she had vital seconds to drink in his features up close – all planes and angles, sea-green eyes, and aftershave-ad stubble. He was almost too ruggedly handsome to be real, for her to be the one about to press her lips against his. When he briefly slipped his tongue in, she just about melted into the seat.

Coming up for air, she asked, ‘Did you have to twist Kirk’s arm to borrow his wheels?’

Alex grinned. ‘Nah, we’re mates, though I did promise to give it a wash and polish afterwards.’

‘Sounds fair.’

Roughly two hours later, Winnie felt tossed around like a garden salad as Alex navigated the sandy tracks, but couldn’t have been more exhilarated. She’d had the wind in her hair and adrenalin in her chest as they’d climbed almost vertical dunes and slid down the other side, practically airborne. They’d swerved through soft, unstable sand and bumped over sharp rocks – all with glimpses of the sea constantly beckoning. And not another car in sight.

She jolted forwards in her seat as the vehicle came to a halt atop a dune, wheels noisily spinning and sand flying beyond the glass.

Winnie sank her teeth into her lower lip, darting a look at Alex. ‘Car trouble?’

‘Yup, think we’re as good as stuck.’ Sweat beaded on his brow, which he wiped away one-handed. ‘I’d better get out and dig, before I get us in deeper.’

‘And I thought you knew how to drive,’ she teased. ‘I seem to remember you lording your abilities over me when we first met.’

Alex jumped out of the four-wheel drive and smiled at her through the open window. ‘Touché.’

Another ridiculous grin. ‘Can I do anything to help?’

‘Just be you.’ He winked. ‘It’ll be inspiration enough.’

Swoon.

Winnie hoped she wasn’t digging herself in deeper as she watched Alex, his T-shirt abandoned, shovelling sand from in front of the wheels. That was after first deflating the tyres a tad. Beads of moisture glistened on his broad, tanned shoulders and back. She knew many local women who’d gladly swap places with her right then.

Minutes later, Alex had dislodged the tyres and they were flying through the sand again, as though they were on a desert safari in Dubai. Slowing on a crest with a particularly spectacular view, Alex glanced at Winnie. ‘Hungry? We could stop here. I brought stuff for sandwiches in an esky.’

He’d thought of everything. Winnie nodded breathlessly, feeling like she was in an Enid Blyton adventure novel. ‘Ravenous.’

They sat on a sandy peak, munching on sandwiches. Winnie’s simple tomato and cheese one had never tasted as good as it did out in the fresh, sea-scented air.

Swallowing a mouthful, she pointed at a red-and-white striped, pyramid-like pillar, perched on a cliff edge, in the distance. ‘Ooh, you can see the famous Robe Obelisk from here. I got a happy snap with it once when on holidays. Not that I can remember why they built the thing. It looks like a lollipop.’

Alex paused from tucking into a tuna and mayo sandwich of his own. ‘Walker told me about it. It used to help sailors navigate the waters at the entrance to Guichen Bay – they can get pretty dangerous. Apparently the erosion of the land around the obelisk means it’ll eventually fall away into the sea. So consider yourself lucky to see it while it’s still standing.’

‘Wow,’ Winnie breathed.

‘Want another sandwich?’ Alex asked, having devoured his.

‘Yes, please.’

Another sandwich down, the wind had picked up and, in the blink of an eye, grey clouds scudded across the formerly blue sky. It was a reminder the end of summer was nigh, and that Winnie’s time in Kingston was nearly over.

‘Looks like a storm’s coming,’ Alex observed, looking out at the horizon. ‘A big one. Who knows? I might even get a day off tomorrow.’

A day off. Winnie felt her spine tingle. It could mean more hours spent together in cocooned bliss, shut out from the rest of the world. Though she didn’t want to cross her fingers and toes too tightly just yet. Besides, he might have other plans.

Instead, she mused, ‘It must be fascinating to have your livelihood depend on things like the turn of the tides and the direction of the wind.’ She shivered as a sudden gust bit into her flesh and bones, her flimsy dress no longer seeming appropriate. ‘It’s almost . . . primitive, if you don’t mind me saying so.’

‘It keeps it interesting, that’s for sure,’ Alex agreed. ‘Though that’s why it can be frustrating when suits, who rarely make it out onto the water, make decisions about our industry.’ He shook his head. ‘I saw some guys from Fisheries out on the water for the first time the other morning. They had this flash-as boat and tried to come on board to check out ours, but they didn’t know how to steer the bloody thing. They wound up having to leave. It was pretty funny.’

Winnie raised her eyebrows. ‘Sheesh.’

Moments later, Alex’s phone beeped. He reached for the slim black device, read the screen, and nodded to himself. ‘That’s Walker. The storm’s going to last all night. I’ve got the morning off for once.’

Winnie felt her breathing quicken, suddenly shy. She had an idea for a way they could spend the night together. Yet she wasn’t sure if she was game to ask. Maybe their time last night and this afternoon had been enough for Alex. Perhaps he was itching to get away. Still, wasn’t she all about risk-taking this weekend?

‘You know,’ she said slowly, ‘Christa has been banging on about my doing a local accommodation review for a travel section, with any expenses covered.’ She peeked at him under lowered lashes. ‘Maybe – maybe we could see if there’s a bed and breakfast in Robe that’s free for the night? Mix a bit of work and pleasure. If, you know, you didn’t have anything else planned.’

Alex observed her levelly, his eyes reflecting the green sea beyond. ‘Sounds like the perfect plan.’

Double swoon.

It felt like they were in the eye of the storm themselves from the vantage point of their chosen bed and breakfast’s humungous bed. The historic abode’s bay window, which overlooked the ocean, was being lashed by the rain and wind. It was as though any moment they could get swept away, the very mattress beneath them tugged out to sea – with them on it.

Still, Winnie had never felt more protected, lying in Alex’s strong arms, the sheets tangled around them, following another session of turbo-charged sex. It felt like they could weather any storm together. It was exciting, exhilarating, spine-tingling. Who needed sleep?

She felt the delicious moistness of Alex’s lips on the back of her neck and allowed herself a small squirm of pleasure. His velvety, transatlantic accent spoke close to her ear. ‘You know, you never did say what your dreams were beyond here. Only that you wanted to move up the magazine ranks, but not to do what exactly.’

‘Oh.’ Winnie reached out to grab his hand, tracing a line on his palm, visible in the glow from the moon. ‘Well, I guess it depends on the opportunities I get, but fashion features director at a top-selling national magazine would be pretty cool. You know, go to fashion week in New York, Milan, Paris and London, sit next to Anna Wintour from American
Vogue
, be snapped by that Sartorialist blogger. Maybe even write my own how-to style guide one day. The sky’s the limit. Though roles like that are incredibly competitive.’

Alex was quiet for a beat as Winnie continued tracing the curved line on his palm. At last, he spoke. ‘Wouldn’t it be a waste of your talents to concentrate on just fashion, though? I mean, is that what you really want or just what you
think
you want – the
idea
of it?’

Winnie stiffened, like he’d just put her over one shoulder, carried her to the shore and thrown her headfirst into the choppy, icy waters. ‘Excuse me?’

Alex’s tone softened. ‘It’s just you cover so much varied stuff at
Beach Life
. And do a good job of it. Wouldn’t it be better to keep your options open rather than focus on something as – as frivolous as fashion?’

Winnie pushed his hands away with force and rolled to the other side of the mattress, as far away as possible. She pulled the sheets up under her armpits, staring hard at his shadowy features in the semi-darkness. ‘You think I’m being
frivolous
?’

He sighed, propping himself up on one elbow and scraping a hand through his hair. ‘Not you, personally. I just think you’ve got a lot more to offer. That you’re selling yourself short. Do you really want to be part of that fake, air-kissing fashion world forever? Don’t you think you’d eventually become jaded?’

Winnie sat up, her heart pounding. ‘I’ll have you know the fashion industry is worth billions of dollars to Australia’s economy. I hardly think that’s somehow frivolous or – or
immature
. Besides, what makes my dream any more frivolous than yours? Taking photos isn’t exactly saving lives, and fishing only takes them.’

He extended a hand towards her. ‘Winnie, you’re right. Come here. That came out all wrong. I didn’t mean to offend you.’

She ignored his hand and leapt from the bed, tugging the white doona out from under his arms with her. Let him suffer in the cold. Suddenly, the conditions inside seemed more thundery than beyond the walls. ‘Goodnight, Alex.’

His sigh followed her as she stalked off to the lounge, the doona draped around her like an oversized cape. The scratchy-looking couch didn’t appear too inviting in the flash of lightning, so she sank instead onto the shag rug – at least it looked freshly shampooed – wrapping herself in the duvet’s cushioned warmth.

How had she been sucked in again by Alex’s ocean-like eyes and rugged charms? He was just as stubborn and superior as the day she’d first met him. A Neanderthal. Why did she ever think he could change? The blood swirling in her veins was a match for the wild, woolly conditions outside.

The minutes ticked by and Winnie’s breathing slowed, tiredness and frustration wearying her bones. Maybe she’d even be blessed with sleep that night, in spite of everything. She felt Alex fumbling beneath the doona, sliding in beside her. She breathed in his unforgettable, salt-of-the-earth scent, felt his warmth wrap around her and a kiss land, as light as a butterfly, on her shoulder.

‘I’m sorry. I was out of line before,’ he whispered in her ear.

‘You were,’ Winnie huffed, though, in truth, she could feel herself unfolding, relenting, yielding beneath his touch. She rubbed her nose distractedly. ‘But maybe – maybe you touched a nerve.’

Her fingertips found a loose thread on the doona. She snapped it free. ‘Sometimes I
do
wonder if I’m cut out for that world, too. Dealing with demanding editors and models day in, day out – the cattiness; the relentless pressure. Often I was so worried about putting a foot wrong and trying to fit in in Sydney, I didn’t even know if I was enjoying myself. If it was what I really wanted or just about living the opposite life to my floaty mother’s, and having a taste of my dad’s high-flying world.

‘I liked seeing my byline and telling people what I did for a living, but at other times, I was too busy tying myself up in knots with stress, even at a smaller magazine. And sometimes the magazine world
is
kind of hard to take seriously, especially in the face of a job like yours. Fishing. You’re out in the elements, at one with nature – I know there’s more to life than magazines.’

Alex’s warm breath tickled her ear. ‘What you do is still valuable. I kind of overstated things before. And I don’t think you’d be alone in feeling insecure in the industry – 
everyone
would be intent on keeping up, staying ahead of the pack. That doesn’t mean you should doubt yourself if you decide it
is
what you want to keep pursuing. You’re talented, creative, passionate. Nothing should stop you.’

Winnie rolled over to face him. ‘Thank you.’

And now it was her chance to press her lips against his as a jumble of emotions tumbled within her and the weather continued to rage outside.

An expletive rang through the air, several decibels louder than the fishing program Alex was currently watching from Winnie’s beanbag.

Jumping to his feet, he was at the bathroom in a few strides, where she’d been busy getting ready. ‘Everything okay in there?’ he called through the door.

It was late Sunday morning and they were back at her unit after their trip to Robe. He’d been enjoying lounging at her place, not feeling sleepy from fishing for a change, until she had to head off to some baby shower for Honey.

‘No,’ Winnie squealed. ‘The stupid shower knob’s come loose. Crusty old thing. Water’s gushing everywhere.’ He could hear a waterfall-like sound beyond the door.