Mango Kisses (14 page)

‘All this is rubbish,’ she said placing her hand on the discard pile. ‘I haven’t thrown it out because you may like to check but it’s mostly old shop dockets and receipts.’

‘Chuck it. I’m not interested,’ he said.

Tiffany’s eyes narrowed at the curtness of his tone and she said tartly, ‘Well, you may be interested in this.’ She thrust the forms at him and picked up a pen. ‘Sign here and the bank accounts are transferred to you as soon as the bank receives them. I’ll post them on my way home.’

He scrawled his name where she’d indicated. Tiffany folded the pages and slipped them into the prepared envelope. She stood up. If she was in his way why the hell didn’t he just say so? He’d employed her, for goodness sake! It wasn’t as if she’d accosted him on the street and begged to be allowed to come and spend her holidays doing this. He’d even asked for her by name.

‘I’ll be back at nine tomorrow,’ she said heading for the door.

‘How was dinner?’

Tiffany stopped halfway down the hall.

‘Pardon?’

‘Weren’t you having dinner with someone last night? I was just asking how it went. Did you enjoy yourself?’

It didn’t sound as though he wanted to know any such thing, and what business was it of his anyway?

‘I had a very pleasant evening, thank you,’ she said.

‘Good. Glad to hear it.’ He clearly wasn’t.

Tiffany smiled tightly as her hand reached for the door latch.

‘I didn’t know you knew anyone here.’ He came towards her. That was almost an accusation. Guilty of befriending the locals, Your Honour.

‘I’m getting to know more people the longer I stay,’ she retorted. ‘Most people are very friendly.’ She placed a slight emphasis on
most
.

‘What does that mean?’

No mistaking the anger swirling about
that
question. Enough. This was too childish.

‘Look Miles,’ she said sharply. ‘I’m here to do a job for you. In my holidays. What I do in my spare time is not your business and I’d be grateful if it stayed that way. Good bye. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

She wrenched the door open and strode out into the midday heat, which pounded at her like a wrecker’s ball and made her rethink the wisdom of walking to work.

She stopped in at Jim’s and tried to buy a tub of fresh vegetable salad and home-made balsamic dressing for lunch. He was all smiles and refused to let her pay, which made her feel guilty. The advice she’d given wasn’t exactly revolutionary and she’d confirmed something they’d already decided upon themselves. And they’d fed her the most delicious meal she’d had for a long time.

‘Jim,’ she said sternly. ‘How will you make money if you give food away?’

‘We had a deal,’ he said in his other-worldly calm voice. His teeth shone white through his beard. ‘So you really think a restaurant’s a good idea?’

Tiffany nodded. ‘I could help draw up a business plan if you like.’

‘But you’re on holidays,’ he objected.

‘Yes.’ She grinned. ‘How about tomorrow night?’

‘For dinner?’

Tiffany jumped in quickly before he could say ‘or after’.

‘Thank you, I’d love to.’

Miles slumped over his morning coffee and didn’t even pretend to read the newspaper spread open on the counter. He didn’t bother to look up when the bell under the mat rang. He hated customers, he hated everyone, particularly himself, especially after the surly welcome he’d given Tiffany this morning. As if yesterday’s blundering effort wasn’t bad enough. In the blink of an eye it seemed they’d gone from intimate and getting closer to barge pole length away, and growing farther, and he had absolutely no idea how it had happened.

‘Bloody hell and damnation,’ he muttered.

A snort of laughter made him glance up and rearrange his features into as close to a friendly smile as he could manage at short notice. He blinked and looked again.

An absolute stunner had walked into his world, and she knew it. Curvaceous, sexy as hell in a short, strappy, black and white sundress that barely covered the essentials, long legs, flashing dark eyes, dark tumbling curls and a red mouth that pouted with repressed amusement.

‘Can I help you?’ he asked.

‘I’m sure you can,’ she purred. She sashayed to the counter, leant across and treated him to a generous view of voluptuous cleavage. ‘I’m looking for someone. Two someone’s to be precise.’

‘I know everyone in town,’ said Miles. ‘If he’s a local.’

‘What makes you think it’s a he?’ she asked. She ran her tongue over her lower lip and he had a sudden and intense flash of Tiffany licking fruit juice from her lips. And his. His gut contracted tightly. The green-eyed monster stirred.

‘Who are you looking for?’ he asked and she straightened abruptly at the tone of his voice.

‘Miles Frobisher. I think he owns this place. And Tiffany Holland, although you probably won’t know her. She’s here on holidays.’

‘I’m Miles Frobisher,’ he said. ‘And I do know Tiffany. She’s doing some work for me.’

‘Well, well, well. Miles Frobisher.’ A laugh erupted from deep down in her well-packaged interior. ‘I’m Marianne, Tiff’s best friend. Where can I find her?’

So this was the namesake, and the one who recommended Tiffany for the job.

‘Well, well, well. Marianne,’ said Miles, grinning and wondering what the hell she was laughing at. ‘She’s at my house, working.’

‘Better not interrupt her,’ she said. She paused by the row of bikinis that had caught Tiffany’s eye that day, removed a few from the rail and held one up for inspection, the same purple one Tiffany had discarded in such sweet, endearing embarrassment.

‘Like to try them on?’

‘Sure. A girl can’t have too many bikinis.’

He held aside the curtain of the tiny change cubicle and she went in clutching three hangers in her ringed fingers. Miles made sure the curtain was fully closed and went back to his magazine.

‘What do you think?’

Marianne swirled into view wearing two bright yellow scraps of material. Her breasts were doing their best to escape and the strap across her back looked uncomfortably tight when she twirled about to give him the rear aspect.

‘Bit tight?’ he suggested.

She tugged at the bra and unselfconsciously rearranged her copious breasts. ‘I think you’re right.’ She peered over her shoulder at the rear view. ‘Hmm.’

Funny how Tiffany didn’t need to expose 99% of her skin to be sexy. He’d never forget how she looked coming out of the waves in her blue one-piece, her skin all glowing and golden in the afternoon sun, her face still lit by the exhilaration of the surf.

Boris came in carrying an enormous armful of beach towels. He caught a glimpse of Marianne just before she dragged the curtain closed.

‘Where did she come from?’ he hissed in amazement.

‘Sydney,’ said Miles calmly. ‘Fold those properly.’

‘Oh. Sure. Yeah,’ Boris said and proceeded to cram the towels on to the shelf. His brain couldn’t cope with both Marianne and towel folding at the same time. Miles got up with a sigh to take over the complicated task.

‘Sit down, Boris,’ he said. ‘Enjoy the show. She’ll be out again in a minute.’

‘I heard that,’ Marianne yelled cheerfully. She stuck a shapely leg out through the curtain and waggled it about stripper style before following it with the rest of her body. This time white and green fragments were tied halter style around the back of her neck.

Boris clapped but stopped when Miles frowned at him in exasperation. He’d be sticking five-dollar notes in her knickers next.

‘Sorry,’ he said to Marianne. ‘How’s that one?’

‘Better. What do you think?’ She looked directly at Boris.

‘Great,’ he said, assuming an expression of intense consideration. ‘Gotta make sure it fits right. Don’t want to lose part of it in the water.’

Marianne gave a great shout of laughter. ‘I don’t go in the water,’ she chortled. ‘Unless I’m skinny-dipping at midnight.’ She winked at Boris. ‘Don’t need a bikini for that.’

She disappeared again leaving Boris with his mouth open and all his fillings and missing molars on display.

Miles glanced at his watch. Just on 12. Tiffany would be finishing up. She was a stickler for being on time, which was fair enough considering she was supposed to be on holidays. Miles experienced an unaccustomed pang of guilt. Whether she enjoyed her work or not she was entitled to have a holiday and not be subjected to the treatment he’d been dishing out to her lately. All because he was jealous.

He hadn’t even asked who she was dining with, hadn’t given her a chance to tell him, just jumped right in and offended her. He smacked his forehead at his stupidity.

Boris didn’t notice. His attention was glued to the change room curtain, awaiting the second coming.

Marianne flung the curtain aside and stood revealed in the purple bikini, that Tiffany had wistfully admired.

‘Perfect,’ said Miles, and meant it.

‘Great,’ said Boris almost drooling.

‘I think so too.’ She smiled at him with tempting red lips and two dark brown, black lashed pools of invitation. She wore a fragrance that made his head swim — too strong when connected to this much exposed female anatomy. ‘Thanks, Miles,’ she murmured.

‘Marianne!’

His and Marianne’s attention snapped towards the door.

‘Tiff!’ exclaimed Marianne with unfeigned delight. She darted across and flung her arms around Tiffany to give her a resounding kiss on the cheek, which in the glimpse Miles got before she was enveloped, seemed quite pink. But that could have been from the heat. ‘I thought I’d come and surprise you.’

‘How long have you been here?’ Tiffany didn’t sound particularly pleased to Miles. Surprised, yes.

‘About an hour.’ She stepped away and pirouetted. ‘What do you think?’

‘Suits you perfectly.’

Tiffany kept her gaze firmly away from Miles. She was doing it deliberately. She’d be remembering their conversation about that bikini, how he told her it would suit her figure perfectly. Now she was saying it to Marianne, parroting his comment.

‘I booked into that motel.’

‘Let’s have lunch,’ Tiffany said in one of her reserved voices.

Marianne either didn’t notice or chose to ignore the chill. ‘Give me two ticks. I’ll take this one, Miles, thanks,’ she said and disappeared to change.

‘Back to work, Boris,’ said Miles. He waited until Boris had gone and said quietly to Tiffany, ‘I’m sorry I’ve been such a surly bastard lately.’

Magnanimity. Overdo it and she’d be so bowled over by his sensitive apology they’d be back to where they were on Sunday in no time, fooling about with sliced mangoes.

‘Have you?’ she asked coolly. ‘I didn’t notice.’

‘Don’t be like that.’ Frustration bubbled to the surface, making him prickle when he meant to soothe.

‘Like what?’ called Marianne from behind the curtain.

‘Your friend is being very professional,’ Miles said trying hard to keep the tone light. He threw Tiffany a pleading glance but she turned her head away and he went back to the counter.

Marianne came out and waved a credit card at him. He took it from her and processed the sale. Tiffany waited by the door staring across the road at the waves pounding on the beach, obviously anxious to get away from him as soon as possible. Probably right over the horizon by the set of her shoulders.

Marianne said quietly, ‘Tiff takes her work seriously and she’s brilliant. Tough, too.’

Miles accepted the veiled rebuke. He looked at the slim figure standing by the door. The expression on her face when she glanced back at them made him want to throw his arms around her; and protect her. She looked so lonely and yet so fiercely independent it broke his heart. Tiffany wasn’t as tough as Marianne thought; she was fragile inside, like fine bone China. At that moment he was probably the only person who knew just how vulnerable she was.

Tiffany waited for Marianne to stop flirting with Miles and vice versa. How on earth had Marianne found her so quickly? If she’d been smart enough she could have rung her and told her what a dull place Birrigai was, how she was tied up working through piles of paper every day and it would be better if they met up in Byron Bay or Surfers Paradise next week.

That would have been the intelligent thing. Now, Marianne would proceed to take over, the way she always did. Tiffany glanced over her shoulder at the pair by the counter. Miles smiling and folding the bikini into a bag, Marianne leaning forward and shoving her boobs in his face, the way she always did. Miles lapping it up, the way men always did.

His eyes flicked Tiffany’s way but moved swiftly back to Marianne. Tiffany stepped out of the doorway and strode into Xanthi’s telling herself she was hungry, it was lunchtime and Marianne should really taste the fish. She ignored the voice hissing in her head that this always happened. The guys she liked always went for the Marianne. Always. Without fail. She should be used to it by now.

‘Hello. What you like today?’ cried Xanthi. ‘You working hard for Miles, eh? Sorting out his money for him? What he really needs...’ Here she paused for emphasis with the dark eyes glaring alarmingly. Tiffany knew exactly what was coming. ‘What that man needs is a smart woman.’ She rounded off the statement with a firm nod and picked up a pad and pencil. ‘What you order?’