Love or Money (5 page)

Of course he hadn't fallen in love with Erin Spenser. No way. You couldn't fall in love in five seconds flat. He'd felt attracted to her. An instinctive reaction. The human race had survived, like every other surviving animal species on the planet, because of that instinct. Creatures of opposite sexes felt attracted to one another. Then in the next breath, they got on with mating. So he'd felt attracted to his new client. Well he'd just better get over it. As he had with Honey.

Hamish stepped into his office, switched on his computer, and made a coffee. The horror movie of that awful Saturday evening at Highlands Hall began to play in his head for the hundredth time. He'd delivered an afternoon session to the management team of an international accounting firm, spruiking the financial pluses of planting forests to fight global warming. The audience had actually cheered when he stepped down from the lectern.

But then Honey arrived for the conference dinner. She walked in dressed like a tart, and was rowdy and drunk by the end of the first hour. Between courses, she disappeared into the shrubbery with the client's finance manager. Then she reappeared, dress smeared with mud, and threw up on the ballroom balcony. Cringing with shame, Hamish exited the gathering, cleaned Honey up, and took her home. Ever since, he'd backed away from any formal invitations that included the words ‘and partner.' A year later, the memory of that night still hurt like a branding iron sizzling on bare flesh.

Next morning Erin rose earlier than she'd have liked, dutifully spooned down a serve of healthy cereal, then waited for Hamish. His strange departure from the Golden Dragon only hours before still puzzled her. What was he trying to hide? What might happen when the two of them stood in this so-called secret cave?

At first blush, she'd sized him up as pleasant, competent, but driven by a passion for the environment. She'd liked him. Then the replay of the surf rescue had complicated things. As they talked over dinner her female chemistry had responded to his lean, broad-shouldered body — the same body that had woken her adolescent hormones all those years before. Later, in the small hours, she'd played with the idea of revisiting that body — purely as a fantasy to while away her sleeplessness. Since her breakup with Todd Archer, Erin had enjoyed her singledom.

Now, in the cold light of day, she recalled her glimpse of Hamish's dark side — the way he'd fallen apart when the talk turned to partners. So he had a partner. She'd keep her distance, especially during their time in the cave.

She looked towards the horizon from the cottage veranda. The morning sun hung over the blue ocean. A big rolling swell pounded breakers onto the rocks at the bottom of the cliff. It would be a good day to take in the view from the mysterious Sea Eagle's Nest, perched on the very edge of that cliff. She dressed in a well-loved if rather faded top, beachy shorts, and trainers. Hamish arrived a few minutes early, wearing T-shirt, shorts and boots. She took in his muscular legs as his eyes scanned her body — slowly, methodically, missing nothing. He blinked away from his appraisal, finally noticed her smile, then smiled back.

‘Hi Erin. Ready for the big adventure?'

‘Well, I feel better now my trusty mountain guide's shown up.'

‘Trusty mountain guide?' he laughed. ‘Hey, that's a big promotion from boring country lawyer. Let's go. First, your shed. The ladder.' He led the way into the dark unpainted building, its inside walls lined with garden tools, hoses, old pots of paint, and rows of dusty jars filled with jams and preserves.

‘Here it is.' He pulled out a sack from under a bench, dragged a bundle of rope from it, and headed for the cliff-top. Erin followed, surprised she'd never noticed the narrow overgrown track before. He pushed through the tangle of scrub that hid the pathway and she followed, fighting nerves as the track seemed to fall away down the cliff. He stopped at an old acacia tree and tied the ladder to it.

‘Absolutely safe, this tree,' he said. ‘It could hold a hundred tonnes. Wait here till I call, then come on down. Pretend it's kindergarten play equipment. I bet with those legs of yours, you were good on that.' He cast a sideways look at the legs which had earned her envious sighs from girlfriends all through high school.

Hamish disappeared down the ladder, and called just seconds later. ‘Come on down, Ma'am. It's only a few metres. I'm here to catch you.' She grabbed the rope, wishing she'd worn long pants, then shinnied down. He'd be standing at the bottom, taking in every centimetre of her legs — legs that Todd had often said were worth a million dollars. The ladder ended a metre from the ground. She stopped, uncertain. Where to from here?

‘Stuck, are we?' he asked kindly.

‘I'm not sure about —'

‘Let go. I'll lift you down.' He flashed a reassuring smile. His arms locked round her waist. Suddenly they were hugging, touching from shoulders to hips. She gasped. He held her close and easy, wrapping her in his warmth. Those smiling lips were close enough to kiss. But they were off limits — she recalled her self-lecture from that morning. Instead, she let herself melt into his arms. That would be…respectable. He carried her to a patch of flat, grassy ground and set her down. She fought a sudden weakness in her knees. Was it from the scary climb, or the pressure of his body on hers? She caught her breath, put on a face that sent a message of relaxed cool.

‘Congratulations. You made it.' He stepped aside as she turned to look at the cave's entrance. The opening was no more than a couple of metres wide, coming to a point at the top. ‘Welcome to Sea Eagle's Nest.'

As she followed him inside, a mystical feeling flowed over her. Peering into the gloom, she saw a folding camp bed, a basic table with one chair, a tiny cupboard, a kerosene cooker. At the apex of the A-shaped space, in a dark corner away from the entrance, hung a framed photo of the grandfather she'd never known. He looked down on her, face stern in his naval uniform.

For the first time, Erin saw behind her grandmother's name for her property — Lovers' Lookout. Widowed after an explosion on her husband's ship during a naval exercise, Grandma Spenser had bought the land out of love for him. On many an evening the young Erin had watched her looking out to sea, moist-eyed.

Erin's heart still pounded unevenly. She felt sure if she spoke, her voice would waver. Better to zip her mouth. She wished Hamish would say something.

‘She even organised a shower.' He pointed outside to a shower rose at the end of a pipe, together with a tap. ‘There's a tank up there. Filled with rainwater. She said there was always enough water, even if she stayed for a week.' He stepped to the edge of the tiny grass pad at the cave's door. ‘Come and take a look.'

Back in control of her misbehaving body, Erin stepped to the edge and looked down. Far below, waves surged against huge rocks and fired spray high into the air. A sea bird cried. The waves retreated into a curve of foam. A ship slid slowly along the horizon, black against the powder blue of the sky.

‘It's…magic,' she whispered.

‘It is. I told you I'd spent the odd night here. All you need's some food, a sleeping bag, something to drink. And a few good books.' He stepped back from the edge. ‘It's the kind of space I need right now, come to think of it.' He paused. ‘But no time these days. Commitments.'

She stood silent. Yes, she could cope with the cave's primitive furnishings. As Hamish had said, if you brought the essentials with you, it would be enough. You didn't need television, computer, cell phone, a fancy bathroom. The cave would be dry and snug in the worst weather. And it would deliver a priceless gift. Pure peace.

‘I'd better be heading back,' Hamish said suddenly. Perhaps, like her, he felt uneasy in the overpowering silence. Being alone with him in this utterly private place had her nerves on edge. She didn't answer. Like a spell slowly taking effect, the still, quiet dark breathed sexy private thoughts into her head. Again she lectured herself. The guy had a partner. She mustn't look at his muscled body, mustn't fantasise about what might happen if the two of them, heaven knows, should ever spend time together in this magical cave.

‘It's Saturday after all,' he said, his voice loud, cheerful. ‘Shopping, mowing the lawn. Cleaning up the kitchen.'

‘We'd better go, then.' Her words broke the invisible web that seemed to be bonding her to the place.

‘I'll go first,' he said. ‘Then I'll pull you up.'

‘Thanks for the offer. But I'll be fine.' She followed him up the ladder and jumped off at the top — into those waiting arms. As he drove away, she remembered the warmth of their closeness. Yes, he was off limits, and yes, the moments she'd spent in his arms had been delicious.

Overnight, Erin had confirmed her decision. She'd put aside any fancy ideas of living in the cottage. Her mother's health — maybe even her life — depended on Erin selling her inheritance fast. She'd better get organised. She made a list, spelling out which rooms, which door frames and other trimmings should be painted, what bits and pieces should be replaced by a carpenter, what jobs would need a plumber, an electrician, a concreter. The garden would have to wait for another day.

After a quick visit to the general store, she made a casserole to the recipe in her grandmother's handwritten cookbook. All afternoon, she inhaled the rich brown beef smell she'd drooled over as a child. At dusk she took her dinner onto the veranda. As the stars came out, she knew she was back — back in the magic space of her childhood.

Erin woke as the morning sun rose out of the sea, bathing the bedroom in coppery gold. She pulled on shorts and top. Sunday morning! Outside on the lawn, she drew breath. The air tasted as fresh as a mountain stream, flooding joy into every living thing. You simply didn't get a morning like this in the city, ever. She'd enjoy it while she could. Slipping on her trainers, she headed for the cliff-top path again. As she looked down on the breaking waves, a gull swept overhead, carried up from the sea in an updraft. It soared over her head, looked down at her, then swooped back towards the water in a voluptuous arc. As it neared the waves, it flattened out its dive and peeled off to the north.

Next lifetime, she'd ask to come back as a bird — have a life that was utterly free. Without the baggage of a job, deadlines, buying things you didn't need. Without unfinished business, broken-off relationships. As she walked, Hamish Bourke popped into the space she'd reserved for enjoying the morning. She pictured his smile, wondered again what hid behind it. Had he known pain? Risen above it? How was life with his partner? Did he have real friends — close and sharing friends — as opposed to the plastic variety? At first glance, she'd sensed that he liked her and could possibly be her friend in this little town where she hardly knew a soul. Then that chance meeting at the Golden Dragon, and…wipeout. His silly fumbling about his partner, his instant exit. Why? Groping among those tired thoughts was ruining her morning. She'd set out on the walk to enjoy the view, the tang of the sea, to forget about other people's problems.

‘Look, Daddy. A bird!' The excited child's voice came from the track ahead. Another seagull skimmed overhead, looking down on the humans below. A man walked into view — a tall, rangy man carrying a little boy on his wide shoulders — a man whose thatch of light brown hair flicked back in the wind. Hamish Bourke. Just when she wanted to break away from the endless mental pop-ups of that face, that body, he'd surfaced again. He flashed a wide smile as they met on the track.

‘Erin Spenser! Of all people! Isn't it a great morning.' He stopped as she walked towards him, lowered the child onto the track. ‘Meet Dwayne. My son. Nearly four.' The little boy looked up with a perfect copy of his father's smile, dimples and all.

‘Hullo, Dwayne,' she replied slowly, wondering how to greet the little boy. Hamish chuckled. ‘A lot of people hesitate over his name. His mother's idea. I'd have called him Jack or Bill or Bob.'

‘What's your name?' The little boy looked up at Erin, deep blue eyes wide.

‘Erin.'

‘Mine's Dwayne. I'm three. I can be on a swing by myself.'

‘Wow! You are a clever boy. What else can you do?'

‘I can do puzzles. I can do a Mickey Mouse puzzle.'

‘Next week it'll be putting on his sandals by himself.' Hamish grinned and looked out over the sea. ‘Where will it all end?' Erin sensed that one of his silences was about due.

‘Glad to see you're taking my advice,' he said, after a minute spent staring down at the breaking waves. ‘Taking a walk on a morning like this might persuade you to keep the place. This talk of selling —'

‘I did explain,' Erin sighed. ‘I have to sell. It just doesn't fit with my other life. Or my mother's health.'

‘A pity,' he said. Remembering the tale of his Green passion, she braced herself. His eyes, widening, smiling straight into hers, told her he was about to rev it up again. ‘You're family. Edna's family. Her property is a key piece in the jigsaw puzzle that makes up the cliff-top walk. She bought it all those years ago, a part of her dream.' Erin knew he was right. Too many times she'd watched her grandmother stare out to sea. Too often, she'd seen a tear roll down those wrinkled cheeks. Then the old woman would wipe her eyes and turn away, forcing a watery smile for her granddaughter.

‘A new owner mightn't go along with Edna's dream,' Hamish continued. ‘She always wanted the track to run all the way from Prospect Head,' he waved an arm, ‘down to the beach.' He pivoted, pointing in the other direction. ‘The bit we're standing on — it's pretty much Edna's boundary. She never fenced it, wanted everyone to have free access. But a new owner — who knows? Her land — sorry, your land — is worth a fortune now. Something a sharp speculator would understand very well. Especially with everyone wanting ocean views these days.'