No Rescue
Authors: Jenny Schwartz
No Rescue
Jenny Schwartz
No Rescue
Jenny Schwartz
She went to Sydney to hide, instead she was found by love.
Recovering from a tragic hostage situation, Miri Blair escapes to Sydney, and the anonymity of a friend's apartment. She will go back into the world â just not yet.
Then, one day, she finds herself acting out a Romeo-and-Juliet balcony style scene with Sergeant Tad Robertson of the Water Police, who dares her to risk living again. With the harbour as a backdrop, Tad and Miri find romance by the sea, but Tad has a dangerous job and Miri has been through trauma. Will she have the strength to move away from her past and towards a future with Tad?
Jenny Schwartz is a West Australian of coastal romances that celebrate the joy of falling in love and the freedom of choosing to follow your heart. Her website is
http://authorjennyschwartz.com
and she loves chatting with readers.
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Miri blamed the pelican.
If it hadn't greeted the dawn with a comically wide yawn of its great bill and an awkward ruffled spread of its wings, like a toddler staggering with sleep, then she wouldn't have laughed.
If she hadn't laughed, then Action Man wouldn't have looked up at the balcony and caught her watching.
âAre you busy?' he'd shouted up.
Her fingers tightened around the mug of her soothing herbal tea. No caffeine for her.
She couldn't ignore him. It would be rude. And it would be even worse to get up and go inside. There was only so often a woman could retreat from life before losing her self-respect.
âI mean, are you working today?' he called.
She put the mug on the railing and leaned over the first-floor balcony. âI don't know you.' She pitched her voice midway between conversation and a shout.
He grinned and came closer, standing below her. Sunlight glinted on his cropped fair hair and showed darker sweat patches on his tight grey T-shirt. Black running shorts revealed lean, powerful thighs and calves.
Not that she could see the length of those legs from this angle, but she'd been watching him for the last two weeks, timing her early morning cuppa to include the sight of him against the incredible backdrop of Sydney Harbour at dawn.
âI'm Tad Robertson, Sergeant Thaddeus Robertson from the Water Police.' He sketched a reporting-for-duty salute.
Marine Area Command was just down the shore from her borrowed apartment.
âDo you have some ID?'
âOn me?' Comically, he patted the tight shirt and flimsy shorts. They couldn't hide the muscles of his body, let alone a badge.
âNever mind.' She picked up the mug of tea.
âI thought we could go to the zoo.'
âPardon?' Tea sloshed.
âRide the ferries and go to the zoo. Public and safe. A good first date.'
First date.
âYou're nuts.' So was she, for being tempted. âYou can't pick up women as you run past.' Although he did have the body for it. Probably women tried to pick him up. She shook off the thought. âShouldn't you be at work?'
âDay off. The zoo has a baby giraffe. I saw it on the news.'
He had to be psychic. She loved giraffes, collected statues of them, and had seen the same news story on TV. Only she hadn't been able to summon the energy to get herself to the zoo. It wasn't a lack of physical energy. It was âa malaise of the soul', to quote her Sorbonne-educated gran.
âThirty minutes,' he said. âI'll meet you back here in thirty minutes. Wear your walking shoes.'
He ran off, moving with purpose, and with the power and control of a well-trained body.
She could believe he was a sergeant: he was bossy. Still she leaned over the railing, craning her neck for a final view of him, a mighty fine view â and he looked back!
Smart-ass.
He turned around, running backwards a few steps, to salute her. âThirty minutes.'
Yep. Definitely a sergeant's voice.
She sipped her tea as a small act of defiance, but as he jogged around the red-brick house on the corner she knew she'd be downstairs in thirty minutes. He'd done the impossible and ignited a spark of interest in her.
A lot of things changed for her seven weeks ago, but apparently she still couldn't resist a dare. Especially one who looked like Sergeant Tad Robertson.
***
Tad ran the familiar harbour-side path back to Marine Area Command on auto-pilot, his mind filled with the vision of the woman he'd just invited on a date. He shook his head, silently laughing. He still didn't know her name, only that she'd appeared two weeks ago, always alone, always on the balcony in the early morning. He'd changed the routine of his training so that he ran past daily.
Maybe it had been too long between girlfriends, and that explained his obsession with her?
It had been easy when he was young and stupid. He hadn't looked for staying power, just casual relationships that asked little and gave less. There were always women willing to believe the television glamour of being a Water Rat. There were precious few willing to hang around once they understood the long hours, the danger and the burn-out rates of any security job.
He reckoned he was pretty stable. His dad's family had been fishing the Sydney area for decades and fishing had its own stresses; hence his decision to opt for steady employment, and a solid retirement plan. He had his skipper's licence and he enjoyed the work.
âCan't stay away, Sarge?'
He puffed in through the entrance of Marine Area Command, flipping off the loud mouth. Thinking about his love life â possibly about to become healthier â he'd run too fast, finishing in a near sprint. He hit the showers, swiftly efficient, pulled on the clean jeans and shirt he kept in his locker, and crouched to lace his shoes.
He ran a hand through his wet hair and reckoned it would do.
If he kept moving this fast, he'd be back at the beautiful stranger's flat well before half an hour was up. A man ought to show some pride, so he forced himself to an amble.
All around him, Sydney was waking up. A few people were jogging as he'd been, and a lone elderly man practiced tai chi beneath a jacaranda tree, with a Siamese cat sitting on a low brick wall, watching him. On the harbour, ferries travelled their regular routes, while private boats darted about. The skyline was a tribute to Sydney's status as a commercial centre. High, jagged buildings cut the blue sky, the drama of the skyscrapers ending in the beautiful sweep of the famous Harbour Bridge.
He reached the grounds of his mystery woman's apartment block as she stepped out the front door. Call him shallow â he was a guy â but his eyes did the quick once-over and he grinned. He'd known it. His luck was in.
More than a pretty face, she had a sensational figure. His mum was an Elizabeth Taylor fan and that was who this stranger reminded him of: Elizabeth Taylor playing Cleopatra. Except this Cleopatra was in jeans and a dull red jacket zipped to her throat.
Their eyes met.
Hers were brown, not the startling blue of Elizabeth Taylor's.
He decided he preferred brown, especially these coffee-dark eyes that were watchful and clever, and dared him to try anything.
âYou look different clothed,' she said.
âI miss the bunny rabbits on your pink PJs.'
She blushed.
âDo you know, I don't even know your name?'
âMiri Blair.'
âMiri.' He hadn't heard the name before. It suited her.
Gold hoop earrings hung from her ears, reminding him again of Cleopatra. They caught the sun and glinted.
She held her phone up. âDo you mind if I take your photo and send it to my sister?'
âIn case I'm a serial killer?' But it wasn't really a joking matter. âNo, that's sensible.' But he felt stupid, standing there, waiting for her to take the photo. Was he meant to smile?
She snapped it fast and bent her head over the phone, tapping in a short message. Then she slipped the phone in her bag.
He wanted to hold out his hand to her, as if they were an established partnership. Mad. He was mad. âReady to join the commuter rush?'
âBreakfast first.' Her voice was firm. âThere's a place on the way to the ferry.'
The place was a small café squeezed into one of Balmain's old buildings, the floor uneven scuffed wood, and white lace curtains at the window. Not his sort of place, with its collection of teddy bears on an old mantelpiece â but the pancakes, stacked high and served with maple syrup and cream, changed his mind.
Miri smiled at him as she broke a blueberry muffin in half. âGood?'
âThe best. I can't believe I work down the road and never knewâ¦' He ate another reverent mouthful. The table was small and rickety and beneath it his foot nudged hers, not on purpose, but he was encouraged when she didn't shift away. âGreat breakfast.' Especially sharing it with her.
She didn't offer any conversational gambits and he wasn't sure where to start. He wanted to know all about her, beginning with â mentally he shrugged â âAre you single?'
âYes, or I wouldn't be here.'
âGood to know.' He swallowed some coffee. It was as incredible as the pancakes. If he told the guys at work, the place would be over-run. That was okay. He didn't mind sharing a café. Miri he'd keep for himself. âI'm single, too.'
âSo I assumed.'
âNo kids.' Just putting it out there.
âI like kids.'
âMe, too, butâ¦?' He raised an interrogative eyebrow.
She ate some muffin. âI don't have any. And isn't this a bit serious for a trip to the zoo?'
âNot really. I haven't asked you to marry me yet.'
She froze. Stared.
âRelax.' He laughed. âIt's the woman who cooked these pancakes that I'm marrying.'
âThat'd be Brian.' She reached for her banana smoothie.
âAs long as he's single.'
Her smile over the top of the glass was gorgeous.
He wanted to insist he paid for breakfast, but he assessed the challenge in her eyes as she dug into her bag for her purse. They split the bill. He'd reserve his fire for buying the zoo and ferry tickets.
***
Miri liked Balmain. It had been built pre-car, so everything was laid out to be within walking distance. She'd filled the last couple of weeks just strolling around it, but it was very different walking with Tad.
He added energy.
Awareness shimmered between them. He didn't touch her, but the way he walked, suiting his long-legged pace to hers, positioning himself so that he was the one who stepped off the footpath when it suddenly narrowed, and subtly inserting himself between her and bulky briefcases as they converged with the stream of commuters approaching the ferry, all made her feel protected.
And unlike her family's worried concern, this courtliness soothed her nerves.
Although she lost the fight to buy her own ferry ticket.
They stood side by side, waiting for it. Other people fidgeted, but Tad simply stood, relaxed yet alert.
A policeman to his soul, Miri thought, hiding her smile by glancing down and away. She studied people's shoes, the stilettos and polished loafers, as well as comfortable walking shoes, and noticed that none ventured too close.
Tad's air of calm vigilance had people giving them a little circle of space, wary of intruding.
She wondered if he realised the sense of authority he exuded, even at rest.
He was a man who impressed simply by being himself.
A small curl of joy unrolled in her that such a man wanted to spend his free time with her.
She let her smile show as she looked at the view. The morning had lost the white-gold shimmer of dawn, but the blue sky provided a stunning backdrop to the view of the Sydney Harbour Bridge across the bay. They'd sail under it and around into Circular Quay.
