Blackpeak Station Page 19

  ‘You’ll all just have to wait and see,’ Matt answered archly. Siri narrowed her blue eyes at him. ‘Yeah, that means you too, babe.’

  The next morning, Charlotte wrote out Hurry’s wage cheque and drove down to the quarters. The rain was still coming down. Vast brown puddles were spreading over the road. She scanned the cloud still masking the tops. Lucky they’d finished the muster — the creeks’d be getting tricky if they got much more of this.

  Hurry was sitting on the old sofa out on the porch, a mug of tea on his knee, studying the rain.

  ‘I’ve brought your cheque down,’ she explained.

  ‘Good on you.’ He didn’t stir. ‘I was just on my way up.’

  ‘No worries.’

  There was a silence. Shattering it, a pair of paradise ducks flew up the road, honking loudly, and settled by a puddle. Hurry watched them. ‘It’s good country you’ve got here.’

  ‘Yeah.’ She watched the ducks too. ‘At least, I think so. Not that I’ve really been anywhere else.’

  ‘You want to go somewhere else?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about it lately.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  She picked at something unpleasant stuck to her bush shirt. ‘Maybe I need to see the world. Travel … you know. It’s the thing to do, isn’t it? Everybody does it at some stage.’

  ‘Everybody?’ Hurry sniffed. ‘You don’t want to go listening to them, girl.’

  ‘You’ve done it.’

  ‘Yeah, well I’ve always been a bit of a wanderer, me. Some of us are. Others, they put down roots in a place.’

  ‘But how do you know which one you are?’ Looking up, Charlotte found Hurry smiling at her.

  ‘You know damn well, girl.’

  She shook her head. ‘I always thought I did. But … well, they say you never really know until you give something a try.’

  ‘They?’ His eyes gleamed. ‘They’re even worse than everybody.’

  Charlotte got up from her desk and added another couple of pieces of wood to the fire. The nights were getting cold again already. Out in the hall, the grandfather clock struck ten. Sitting back down at the computer, she scrolled through the stats of yet another potential ultrafine merino sire. This was definitely the way to kickstart the Sammartino stud, but bloody hell, it was going to be an expensive gamble.

  Jen poked her head round the door. ‘I’m off to bed. See you in the morning.’

  ‘Good night.’

  At the base of her screen, the new message icon blinked. Another email from Nick. Everything about Milan was so fabulous — the food, the wine, the Sammartinos’ villa on the lake, the way everyone dressed … Charlotte hit delete in disgust.

  Okay … so, just out of interest, what did Argentina have in the Saxon ram line? A lot of stuff in Spanish, that was what. She flicked back and entered her preferred Australian bloodline into the flock model.

  ‘You look busy.’

  Charlotte’s heart skipped a beat. It couldn’t be. She looked up. As he’d done in many a late-night fantasy, Luke leaned in the doorway, his suit jacket slung over his shoulder. Oh God. For a moment, she didn’t even think about how he’d got there, he just looked so achingly, impossibly —

  ‘Your door was unlocked’ — Oh, not the voice as well — ‘so I let myself in.’

  She jammed her thighs together. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Well …’ He moved forward, slowly draping his jacket over the arm of a chair. ‘I’m going to start with you.’

  ‘Like hell you are.’

  The corner of his mouth twitched. He paused, his green eyes flicking over her as he loosened his tie.

  ‘You don’t seriously think you can just walk in here after all this time and—’

  Luke edged closer. ‘And what?’

  Charlotte caught her lip in her teeth. Oh no, oh no. What was wrong with her?

  ‘Say it.’ He leaned over her, a hand on either arm of her chair, one knee parting hers.

  ‘No.’

  ‘No?’ He drew back a little.

  She bit back a groan. ‘I haven’t heard from you for months,’ she managed. ‘And now you just turn up here? Where have you been, why haven’t you called?’

  ‘I’m here now.’

  Her resolve hardened. Did he really think that would work again? ‘It’s a long way to drive for a booty call,’ she said coldly. ‘Couldn’t you find anyone closer to home?’

  His look made her flinch. ‘Is that what you think this is?’

  ‘What am I supposed to think? I thought you’d forgotten all about me.’

  Gazing down at her, eyes still angry, Luke ran a hand through his hair. ‘Oh, believe me, baby, I’ve tried.’ Abruptly, he turned away.

  What the hell did that mean? Straightening up, Charlotte strove to pull herself together.

  Luke sank into the armchair beside the fire. He rubbed his face, and then stared into the flames. He looked lost and, suddenly, tired. In the hall, the clock chimed the half hour.

  ‘Do you want me to go?’

  She sighed. If only she did. Life would be so much simpler. ‘It’s late,’ she said quietly. ‘I guess you’d better stay here now. Tonight, I mean.’

  He looked at her. ‘And tomorrow?’

  ‘Tomorrow,’ she shrugged, ‘no doubt you’ll be in your usual hurry to leave.’ Immediately, his expression made her regret the cheap shot. God, his eyes were so … naked. Vulnerable. It was as if she was at last seeing the real Luke. Raw and aching and as mixed up and scared of getting hurt as she was. It was all she could do not to walk over there and put her arms around him. Stay right where you are, she told herself sternly.

  ‘Not this time,’ he said softly.

  ‘Why?’ Charlotte couldn’t resist. ‘Is it another public holiday in Shanghai?’

  A little wickedness crept back into Luke’s eyes. Oh my God — it was.

  ‘Qingming,’ he said, watching her carefully.

  She had to smile.

  ‘Will you come here? Just for a minute. Please?’

  Keeping a close eye on him, she walked over and sat down on the edge of the opposite armchair. Luke leaned forward, taking both her hands.

  ‘Look. I know I’ve been a dick.’

  ‘A total dick.’

  He smiled briefly. ‘I thought I could just walk out and that would be it. But the thing is, I can’t stop thinking about you. About’ — his voice fell — ‘us.’

  Uh-huh.

  ‘I’ve never been with anyone quite like you.’

  A vision of Susannah Liddell popped into Charlotte’s head. Now that she could believe.

  ‘Tonight …’ Luke groaned slightly. ‘Tonight I was sitting in my office, and I just couldn’t stand it any more. I needed you’ — for a second, he started to pull her forward, then recovered himself — ‘so badly.’

  Charlotte closed her eyes briefly. She knew just how he felt.

  ‘So I just got in the car and drove. All I could think of, all the way down, was …’ He broke off and knelt between her knees, his hands running up her thighs. ‘Please tell me I haven’t fucked this thing up. You and me.’

  You and me? They were really a thing? Oh God. It was no use at all. ‘Maybe you haven’t.’ Closing her eyes again, she leaned back as Luke pulled her hips towards him and his mouth came down on hers.

  ‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’ Jen peered through the kitchen window at the Range Rover parked outside. ‘When did that happen?’

  Charlotte blushed. ‘After you’d gone to bed.’

  ‘What, he just turned up? And you let him in? Ugh, Charlie.’

  ‘Morning.’ Luke padded in, and pulling Charlotte forward, settled possessively behind her on the chair. ‘You’re looking lovely as ever, Jen.’

  Jen gave him a withering glare.

  As his arms tightened under her breasts, Charlotte turned her cheek into his shoulder. ‘Want some toast?’

  Who cared what Jen thought? Luke w
as wearing his old ripped jeans and a black polo neck and his eyelashes were still wet from the shower and he smelled very good and she had more than half a mind to flag whatever she had planned for the day — what was it again? — and drag him straight back to bed.

  The phone rang. Luke stood up. ‘Um, do you mind if I get that? It might be for me.’ He grinned as they stared at him. ‘I’ve had my calls diverted.’

  Shaking her head in disbelief, Jen headed for the door.

  ‘Luke Halliday … Trevor! Thanks for getting back to me …’

  Charlotte sighed and put the jug on. Well, she had said he could use the phone.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said, ten minutes later, recapturing her. ‘It’s just that this way, I can be where I want, and nobody needs to know.’

  Where he wanted? She smiled. ‘And where’s that?’

  Her eyes widened as he began to demonstrate.

  The phone rang again. ‘Luke Halliday …’

  Wandering through to the office, she checked her calendar. Outside, it had started to rain. She had nothing that urgent to do today — surely, sooner or later, he had to get off the phone.

  ‘There you are.’ Luke leaned over the back of her chair. ‘Look, I’ve got to Skype into a breakfast meeting in Melbourne at nine — is there somewhere nice and quiet I could set up?’ His hand slid casually down her shirt. ‘I’ll be an hour or so. I don’t want to get in anybody’s way.’

  Distracted as she was, Charlotte had no intention of letting him commandeer her office this time around. ‘You can use the billiard room.’

  ‘The billiard room? Well, obviously.’ He pulled her bra strap back up and dropped a kiss on her neck.

  ‘Come on.’ Leading him down the hall, she opened the door opposite the formal lounge.

  ‘This room gets me every time.’ Luke looked around, taking in her great-great-grandfather’s library shelves, the buttoned leather chairs. ‘You’ve got the set of Pride and Prejudice in here.’ He shivered.

  It was a bit cold. Not to mention dusty. ‘I can light the fire if you like.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  He examined the painting above the mantelpiece, then moved onto the next. Leaving him to it, she fetched an armful of wood from the sitting room, set the fire and put a match to it. Hopefully the wire netting on the chimney had held and there were no starlings up there.

  ‘You really never come in here?’ He ran his hand along the side of the antique billiard table.

  ‘Almost never.’ She got up, dusting off her jeans. ‘We don’t have much use for it, really.’

  He watched her, his finger toying with the cue ball. ‘I can think of a use for it.’

  ‘Can you?’

  ‘Come here.’

  Lifting her onto the edge of the table, Luke began unbuttoning her shirt. He checked his watch. ‘Christ.’ Charlotte groaned. ‘Sorry, baby, I’ve got to do this thing.’

  Not as sorry as she was — she reached out and pulled him against her, hard. Ah … okay, maybe he was.

  ‘You …’ Shifting his hips, he bit her lower lip. ‘… have to go now.’

  Reluctantly, she slid down. ‘Find me’ — she watched his face as she brushed a finger under the front of his jeans — ‘when you’re done.’

  He pressed her back against the table’s edge. ‘Just try and stop me.’ With a shake of his shoulders, he let her go. Walking away, he picked up his laptop from the chair and flicked it open.

  An hour, huh? Surely she could wait that long. Charlotte left him prowling the room for the best background shot and floated back to her office. Right, then. Where had she been?

  The phone rang. ‘Hello?’ She rolled her eyes at herself. ‘Luke Halliday’s phone.’ There was an odd echo on the line. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Hello, may I speak with Luke, please?’

  Charlotte frowned. ‘Flavia?’

  There was a long pause. ‘Carlotta?’

  ‘Yes,’ she smiled, ‘it’s me.’

  ‘But’ — Flavia sounded worried — ‘you are in Luke’s office?’

  ‘Um, no, not exactly — he’s kind of in mine. He’s working down here for a few days.’

  ‘He is working with you? Ah! That is good.’

  Pretty damn excellent, actually.

  ‘So you are — how do you say? — together with it?’

  Charlotte smiled. ‘Yeah, we are.’

  ‘I am so pleased, cara. I thought maybe—’ Flavia broke off.

  God. Was there no one who’d thought she and Luke might work out?

  ‘But you are happy, so I am happy, and Luca — he will be very happy, I am sure. Nick — well, maybe he is not so happy, but I am taking him to La Scala tonight …’

  Charlotte laughed.

  Flavia’s voice dropped. ‘Carlotta, cara, let me tell you about this brother of yours … Ah! But I cannot because he is here, and so is our car, and so I must go — ciao ciao. Tell Luca to call me tomorrow!’

  Shaking her head, Charlotte put down the phone. Okay — work. This time. She opened her monthly report to Nick and the Sammartinos. How many of the new stud ewes did she want to try with the Australian sire? She’d better talk to the vet before she pitched the figures.

  The door closed. ‘You,’ said Luke, in front of it. ‘Here. Now.’

  She smiled, not moving. ‘That didn’t take long.’

  ‘Believe me, baby, this will.’ He peeled off his polo neck and glared at her. ‘Do I have to come and get you?’

  Letting her eyes wander down the line of his abs, she thought that perhaps he did … Slowly, she moved around to his side of the desk. God, she’d like to unbutton those jeans. She caught her breath as he began to do so for her.

  Her own hand, reaching back for the edge of the desk, knocked over the phone. ‘Oh, Flavia called,’ she remembered dutifully, putting it back in its cradle.

  Luke froze. ‘Flavia?’ There was a second’s pause. ‘What did she say?’

  ‘She said she was going out, and to call her tomorrow.’ Charlotte watched his face. She’d been too swept up in Flavia’s charm at the time, but come to think of it now — ‘Why was she calling you?’

  He stretched his neck to either side. ‘She was returning my call. There’s an opportunity I think the Sammartinos might be interested in.’ Tilting his head again, he looked into her eyes and undid another button.

  She felt her knees part. God — that was quite a trick. ‘What kind of an opportunity?’

  ‘A joint venture.’ He prowled towards her, his eyes moving down, ranging over her breasts. Bloody hell. If her shirt buttons actually popped, she wouldn’t be surprised. ‘With a client of mine in Shanghai.’

  ‘Doing what?’

  ‘A building project.’ Luke arrived between her thighs. ‘Do you really’ — opening her shirt the old-fashioned way, he pinned her down on the desk — ‘want to talk about that now?’

  Gazing up at him, she shook her head.

  ‘No? You’re sure?’ Watching her face, he moved his hips forward. ‘Good. Now, where were we?’

  After a barely interrupted afternoon, the phone rang again at four o’clock while Luke — fresh from the billiard room — was taking a shower. Charlotte, already showered and sprawled beside the kitchen range with a cup of tea, wasn’t quick enough to stop Jen picking it up.

  ‘Hello?’

  Charlotte watched her frown.

  ‘Who am I? Who are you?’ Jen held the phone away from her ear. ‘Well, actually, yeah — I do know who you are, you just told me … no you can’t, he’s not here … taking a shower, I think …’

  Charlotte winced. Not exactly something Luke would be doing if he were in his office in Christchurch. And she had a feeling Jen didn’t sound like a Cooper Liddell Sachs PA.

  ‘What a bitch.’ Jen put the phone down. ‘She hung up.’

  ‘Who was it?’

  ‘Somebody’s daughter, apparently.’

  ‘Not Susannah Lidd
ell?’

  ‘Yeah, that was it.’ Jen settled down in the opposite chair. ‘Who’s she?’

  ‘Oh,’ she lied, ‘just some woman Luke works with, I think.’ She had a feeling that explaining how she’d met Susannah wasn’t going to make Luke look any better in Jen’s eyes. Charlotte smiled to herself. Unfortunate as it was that Jen had outed Luke, she couldn’t help a small surge of triumph.

  ‘So.’ Jen raised her eyebrows. ‘Busy day, huh?’

  ‘Um, yeah … Sorry I haven’t been around. I got a bit caught up.’

  ‘Yeah, I know. You guys should really think about pulling the curtains.’

  No! She pressed her hand to her mouth. ‘God, I’m sorry.’

  ‘No harm done.’ Jen shrugged. ‘I was gay already. So how long’s he staying this time? Till you run out of rooms?’

  Charlotte shrugged defiantly. It was a big house.

  Chapter SEVENTEEN

  Charlotte had a fire blazing in the billiard room. She’d even vacuumed. It was ten o’clock on Friday night, and Luke should be there any minute. She hadn’t seen him for nearly two weeks, and she was waiting for him in nothing but the red jersey dress she’d stolen from Andrea for their first ‘date’ and a few dabs of her new perfume. A black-ribboned box of Chanel No.19 had arrived two days ago with a note that read, Time you had some of your own — this is my favourite. Can’t wait to smell it on your skin. There was no name on the note, and she loved that Luke had known he didn’t have to sign it.

  Were those footsteps in the hall? With a shiver of anticipation, she arranged herself more elegantly in the high-backed leather chair. She heard the door she’d left ajar open further, and the footsteps paused. All he’d be able to see from there would be her bare legs, carefully crossed at the ankle. The door snicked shut. Yikes — she hoped it was Luke … the back door was unlocked, so actually, it could be anybody …

  Half a second before she ruined her planned effect by turning around, there he was, in front of her. Her breath caught. How could anyone who’d just made a five-hour drive possibly look that good? He’d already lost his tie and unbuttoned his collar, but his grey striped shirt was barely crumpled, and his grey flannel trousers hung from his narrow hips in a hopelessly Cary Grant way. A bottle of champagne dangled from one nonchalant hand, two glasses from the other.