Secrets (Hope Bay) Read online

  Emma watched him with those warm, warm eyes.

  “Bill was crying.”

  “They’re a lovely couple.”

  “Why? Why does bad shit happen to good people?”

  “For the same reason good things happen to good people. It just does.”

  Shane looked back out at the ocean, the continual ebb and flow that didn’t change no matter who lived or who died.

  “You tried,” Emma said softly but firmly. “They know you tried. Sometimes no matter how much you try, though, things are out of your control. But the main thing, Shane, is that you tried. You were there for them.” She leaned closer, her arm pressing warmly against his. “You were there.”

  “Yeah.” He placed the empty carton on the table, turned back to the ocean, both hands now clasped around her small one, drawing comfort from her very presence. “But not being able to help them even with all the training I’ve done, that sucks, you know?”

  “I know.”

  That she did know was a comfort within itself.

  They sat in silence for awhile, each lost in their own thoughts.

  He’d replayed the scene several times over in his mind but regardless, Shane knew he’d done everything. “Sometimes,” he said quietly, “it just is.”

  “It is what it is,” she agreed.

  He liked that about her. She didn’t try to comfort him with practiced words, tell him not to mope or push him to talk. She just agreed and waited patiently.

  The cold, hard knot deep inside him eased, unfurled, and he exhaled low and deep, acknowledging his sadness, acknowledging he’d done his best and yeah, it was what it was. He couldn’t let this drag him under. To someone not in the industry it might sound callous, but to those who worked in the industry, they understood.

  If you let every sorrow, every sadness and failure eat at you, you’d break. Crumble. Be no good to anyone. Be unable to lift your head and face life again.

  Life was wonderful. He had to keep remembering that. It was full of sadness sometimes, but also full of happiness. There were things to which he had no answers, but he’d learned early on that he didn’t have all the answers, would never have all the answers. And he’d learned to let things go.

  He let it go now. True, he still had that little kernel of sadness for a nice couple who’d lost their baby, but he had to keep moving forward. It didn’t mean he forgot them or the baby, but the pathway always led forward. There was no going back, no matter what.

  He was still the doctor in this town, still a man, still had a life. People to help if he could. A job to do to the best of his ability.

  It was what it was.

  Relaxing, he looked at Emma.

  She regarded him seriously before nodding with a small smile. “You’re okay.”

  “I am. Thank you.”

  Typical Emma, she didn’t try to brush his gratitude away, but nor did she make a big thing of it. “You’d do it for me.”

  “Yes.” Inhaling deeply, he tasted the salt of the ocean on his lips, the tang of it in the air. “The sun’s going down.”

  She looked out at the glowing orb getting ready to dip its toes in the blue water. “Yep.”

  “Let’s watch it.”

  Sitting side by side, hands clasped, they leaned against each other and watched life continue.

  ~*~

  CK adored him. There was no doubting it. As far as CK was concerned, Shane was her idol, her man, her chicken-provider.

  As soon as Shane walked in the door, CK was throwing herself around his ankles with a fierceness that was admirable. And a little weird. Especially weird.

  He had to pick her up just to prevent himself from tripping over her.

  “That’s what you get for winning her over with chicken.” Emma locked the security screen behind them, leaving the wooden door open to catch the warm night breeze. “That and the fact that you have a piece of fish from our fish’n’chip dinner wrapped up in paper in your hand.”

  Shane eyeballed CK who was hanging down over his arm, her head angled up so she could gaze adoringly up at him. Also to gaze adoringly at the paper-wrapped piece of fish in his other hand. Her eyes didn’t know which way to go first, so she kept switching her gaze from his face to the fish.

  “She’s pretty easy,” Shane commented, carting her down the hallway to the kitchen.

  The warm hallway light picked out the runner on the dark wood floor and the dark wood side table with the bowl of red roses sitting atop it.

  “Especially when it comes to you.” Following him into the kitchen, Emma flipped on the switch to fill the room with light. Crossing to the pantry, she opened the door and took out CK’s bowl.

  Shane knew it was her bowl because it was covered in pictures of fish skeletons. Placing CK on one of the stools, he unwrapped the fish and pulled it apart, dropping the bite-sized pieces in the bowl. “Hope she likes batter.” He regarded the bits of fish. “Bit late now.”

  “Really?” Coming up beside him, Emma looked down at the contents of the bowl. “Too late?”

  Grimacing, he reached for a piece. “I’ll take the batter off.”

  “Lucky for you, CK likes batter.”

  “Thank goodness.” He held up fishy-smelling fingers. “I wasn’t looking forward to groping around the fish any more than I already had.”

  Emma’s eyes twinkled up at him. “And yet you were ready to do it.”

  “What can I say?” Shane jerked his head at CK sitting on the stool with her eyes glued to the fish. “I won her over. Now I have to keep her won over.”

  “Just keep doing what you’re doing and you’ll be fine.”

  “So keep feeding the ginger lady?”

  “Keep feeding the ginger lady.”

  “Your wish - and hers, too - is my command.” Picking up the bowl, Shane placed it beside the dish of fresh water in the corner.

  CK was off the stool like lightening, a streak of ginger that skidded to a halt in front of the bowl and proceeded to chow down.

  Shane studied her. “I’d hate to put my fingers near that bowl right now.”

  “If you want to remain her hero,” Emma advised, “you’ll keep your dooks to yourself.”

  “Duly noted.” Laughing, he held up his hands. “Can I use your bathroom?”

  “Absolutely. Or,” she gestured to the sink, “there’s pump soap there and you can dry your hands on the tea towel. I’m not fussy either way.”

  Preferring to stay in the same room as her, Shane used the soap pump and dried his hands on the tea towel while watching her make a pot of tea. “Can I help?”

  “Shane, you bought me dinner. The least I can do is provide the drinks.” She switched the electricity off at the wall. “I vote we sit out the front on the swing seat to drink. It’s so nice out there in the evenings.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  He waited until she’d poured the tea, then he snagged the biccie barrel and his mug and stood aside to let her pass carrying her own mug. He followed her out onto the front veranda. She didn’t turn on the veranda light, and he knew why as soon as he saw the soft glow from the full moon spilling across the garden, lighting everything up in a cool white flood.

  Dropping down onto the swing seat beside Emma, Shane set his mug on the little built-on table while Emma did the same. Opening the barrel, he took out an Anzac biccie and bit into it while proffering the barrel to her.

  She took a biccie. “Ta.”

  “Did you bake these?” he asked.

  “Yep.”

  “Yummy.”

  They ate quietly for awhile, the swing chair gently swaying back and forth by Shane’s easy push with his feet braced on the wooden veranda floor.

  A night bird called from a garden several doors down. A dog barked in the distance. Lights glowed from behind curtains across the street. The road was quiet.

  Enjoying her company, Shane was very aware of Emma by his side. Her scent, her warmth, her sweet curves.

  Part of him
didn’t want to risk asking her on a date in case he spoiled this friendliness between them, but the other part of him knew that sooner or later he had to ask, was going to ask, so why not now? “Thank you for tonight.”

  “It’s I who should thank you,” she replied. “I do have a weakness for fish’n’chips.”

  “It was delicious.” He took a mouthful of tea.

  “Next time I’m buying,” she stated.

  He seized on the offer. “It’s a date.”

  Silence greeted this.

  For the life of him he couldn’t even imagine what she was thinking. Her profile was to him as she gazed out at the garden.

  Still, he was going to forge ahead regardless. “What about next Saturday night?”

  Both her hands were now around the mug as she sipped at the hot tea, remaining silent.

  Leaning back against the swing seat, Shane waited. For better or worse, the ball was now in her court.

  Slowly, she put the mug down on the little table before turning to face him. The moon cast light but the veranda was in shadow. He could still see her face, though, the seriousness of her expression.

  Emma drew up her leg, bent her knee to hook her foot behind her other knee. She studied him, her gaze searching, looking for something. She opened her mouth, closed it, hesitated. Glanced down at her hands lying in her lap.

  His heart jumped. She was debating something and he knew, he just knew, that whatever passed between them in the next few minutes would determine what the future held.

  He kept quiet, just watching her. Waiting. The very picture of calm patience when deep inside he felt more nervous than he’d ever felt in his life.

  Shane Armand had never been nervous around women, had always been sure of himself, knew what he wanted and went straight for it, but this one curvy woman with her big blue eyes and sweet smile had captured his heart.

  Shit, she’d captured his heart.

  It hit him hard, thudded deep, made his heart skip a beat.

  Instinct kept him still. If he jumped, said what he felt, she’d probably run a mile.

  Just be patient, Shane. Don’t scare her. Jesus, don’t ruin this, don’t-

  “Shane?” The uncertainty in her pretty face was plain to see even in the shadows.

  “Yeah, Emma?” he asked quietly. Softly. Warmly.

  “I don’t…” She hesitated. “I don’t know where you’re going with this.”

  “Ask me.”

  She inhaled deeply and he knew she was trying to gain the courage to ask, knew she was scared that she was reading it wrong, that she would make a fool of herself.

  He didn’t know how he knew, he just did. It was like he was so attuned to her he could feel her emotions.

  So he helped her.

  Reaching out over the small gap between them, he slid his hand beneath hers, turned and linked their fingers together.

  She didn’t pull away, but her breath hitched.

  Satisfaction and relief trickled through him at the sign that she wasn’t unaffected by his touch. “Ask me,” he repeated softly. “Just ask me, Em.”

  “You could tell me.”

  “But will it be the right answer to the right question?”

  “Some days,” she replied unexpectedly, “you’re just like your dad.”

  “Crap,” he replied without thinking. “That’s a mood killer.”

  She chuckled, a soft, bubbling sound of merriment that pulled a smile so easily from him.

  Growing serious once more, she leaned forward a little.

  He matched the movement. There was still space between them, a lot of space, yet he could feel the warmth of her body already.

  Lightly, he brushed his thumb back and forth against her skin, silently letting her know this was more than just being friendly. Giving her the hint, the push.

  “Shane…”

  “Ask me.”

  She lightly bit the lushness of her bottom lip before tilting her head back to meet his gaze determinedly. “Where are you going with this?”

  “I want more than friendship.” He was forthright, not beating around the bush. “I like you, Emma.” If he revealed what he’d just discovered about himself, she’d think him an idiot, so he kept it simple. “But I like you more than just as a friend. I want to go out with you, share time with you, get to know each other as more than work colleagues and friends.”

  “That could get complicated.”

  “Trust me when I say that our relationship will not - nor ever - interfere in our work relationship.”

  “If this doesn’t work…”

  Releasing her fingers, he slid his hand up to loosely encircle her wrist. “People meet at work all the time. Relationships thrive. Not everything has to crash and burn, Em.”

  She was silent.

  “Talk to me.”

  “I’m scared.”

  His eyebrows rose in surprise. “Of me? Surely not. Surely you’re not afraid of-”

  “No. Not you.” She glanced away.

  He could see some kind of inner turmoil going on inside her, wondered what it was, wished he knew. “Emma, I’d never hurt you. I’m not that kind of bloke. If things didn’t turn out I’d never sack you, take it out on you as your boss or anything.” He gave her arm a gentle squeeze. “Look at me. Please.”

  Her gaze locked onto his without hesitation. “It’s easy to say now.”

  “Yes,” he agreed, “it is. But trust me, I’m not like that.”

  “Your dad is also my employer.”

  “Dad isn’t going to punish you for having a failed relationship with me. Nor is Mum.” Lifting his other hand to lightly cup her cheek, he was rewarded by the fact that she didn’t pull away.

  His heart flooded warmly when he felt her cheek nestle into his palm just the tiniest, weeniest bit. If he hadn’t been so attuned to her in that moment he would have missed it.

  “But Emma.” He leaned forward more, kept their gazes locked, sought to reassure her with the sincerity in his eyes, his voice, his words and tone. “I’m not concerned about my parents. This isn’t about them. This is between you and me. I’m attracted to you as more than a friend, and I want to see this through, see where it goes.”

  She swallowed. “Shane…”

  “Tell me where you want this to go,” he ordered softly. “Tell me what you feel, your feelings for me. Be honest with me, Emma, as I’m being with you.”

  Against his palm he could feel her teeth clench, which surprised him though he hid it. Her expression was uncertain, guarded, the inner turmoil she was experiencing again making him wish he knew what was going on inside her head. What was she so afraid of?

  Had she had a bad relationship before? A bad experience? He didn’t know, wouldn’t know if she didn’t tell him. But nor could he push it too far, certainly not demand answers.

  Gently, he stroked her cheek with his thumb, felt the easing of her jaw muscles.

  She sighed. “Maybe once you got to know me, you might be disappointed.”

  His own tension eased. “Let me be the judge of that. I sincerely doubt it, anyway.”

  “You don’t know me that well.”

  “Then let’s fix that problem, too.”

  She gazed searchingly at him. “I want to tell you something.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “But not yet.”

  Another flicker of surprise. “Okay.”

  “You’re not going to push for an answer?”

  “I’m not going to lie and say I’m not dying to know what it is, but I’m also not going to try to talk you into telling me.” He drew a little closer, her scent filtering deep into his lungs with every breath he took. “You’ll tell me when you’re ready.” His hips eased nearer as he leaned forward, so close now, their faces so close it wouldn’t take much more shifting to finally taste those sweet, sweet lips. His hand slipped from her cheek to trail down her throat and around to palm her nape.

  Her hand came up, fingers hooking lightly below
his wrist, not pulling him away but just resting there.

  They looked at each other, their breaths mingling, time seeming to stand still. Their own little cocoon, surrounded by the trees, the bushes, the flowers, the shadows and moonlight, sheltered by the veranda.

  “What if it’s something you don’t like?” she whispered.

  He regarded her seriously. “Are you married?”

  “No.”

  “Engaged?”

  “No.”

  “Have a boyfriend somewhere?”

  “No.”

  “Children?”

  “No.”

  “Lied about baking those Anzac biccies?”

  She blinked. “Pardon?”

  “Because that might be a deal breaker.”

  Her mouth fell open, and he nearly dived right in to kiss deep, but he waited, smiling slightly instead.

  God, he needed more than gold stars for that act alone.

  Emma recovered. “Shane, there is no one else, I promise.”

  “Then I’ve said what I want, what I feel.” It was hard for him to finish but there was nowhere else to go right now. “Where we go from here is up to you, Em. Take a chance on me, that’s all I ask.”

  “You’re taking a chance on me.”

  “I’ll take that chance. What about you?”

  She looked at him silently for several seconds, then slowly, so very slowly, she closed the gap between them, stopping only when her lips were mere millimetres from his, her breath warm and damp on his lips.

  He wanted to kiss her, wanted to bridge that final gap, but instinct made him stop, made him wait with bated breath as she gazed so deeply into his eyes. Let her make the final move even while he ached for it.

  “I guess I’ll take that chance on you, Shane,” she whispered, and closed the gap between them, her lips pressing lightly to his.

  That first touch was the sweetest thing he’d ever experienced. Lush lips so warm and soft, moulding to his as though she were made for him. Moulding so perfectly to his mouth, his lips.

  It was a gentle kiss, a slow exploration, skin to skin, tongue tip to tongue tip, pressing lightly, softly, learning the shape and taste of each other.

  So damned sweet it made his heart almost ache.

  He’d never thought a sweet kiss could be so soul-shattering. It broke him apart, filled him up, warmed him as nothing ever had.