The Wedding Countdown. Barbara Hannay
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his business would bring him to Townsville on this particular week.
He was more self-contained, more confident now than he had been when she knew him before. That had probably come with success. Success in business and in love, most likely.
Tessa flopped onto her stomach and tried to blank out the tormenting thoughts. Just breathe deeply and relax, she told herself. She lay in the dark trying hard to empty her mind. But soon the taunting images came rolling back. She thought of Isaac lying down the hall. Was he snoring blissfully, or was he remembering, too? How had he felt today when he drove up to the house?
For seven years it had been his home.
She pictured him sitting in his truck staring at the house for several moments before he began to climb the curve of smooth sandstone steps bordered by drifts of bright bougainvillea. In her mind’s eye she saw his long legs taking the steps two at a time. Did he encounter, as she so often did when she came home, the ghosts of a laughing, golden-haired girl and a tall, dark, brooding boy?
And when he stepped out onto the deck and saw once again the blue sweep of Cleveland Bay and the mass of tall, straight masts, which delineated the marina, did he remember Antares? She felt her cheeks grow hot. What a fiery couple they had been when she was nineteen and he one year older. Alone on the family yacht, they’d seduced each other with all the excitement and passion of intense, young love.
How special that time had been!
She could still remember the delicious smell of Isaac’s sun-warmed skin as she buried her face in his chest, the taste of his lips on hers and the reassurance of his arms holding her tight. And especially she remembered the way he’d looked at her, his dark eyes smouldering with desire, and how her senses exploded with longing.
Paul Hammond’s serious face flashed into Tessa’s mind, and she knew at once that she had to stop thinking about Isaac. Sleep was going to be impossible. She wondered if Rosalind kept any chamomile tea.
Putting her thoughts into action, Tessa padded down the dark, silent hallway to the kitchen. Luckily Rosalind’s big pantry cupboard was fixed with an internal light, so she could find the herbal tea bags without having to illuminate the whole area. She left the pantry door open and used the glow from its light while she found a mug and boiled the kettle.
She placed two tea bags in a small teapot, filled it, then carried it and a mug onto the moon-washed deck. It was cool outside, and she was glad of her warm pyjamas as she settled into a canvas director’s chair, hoping the silvery bay and the distant lights of Magnetic Island would soothe her.
‘I’ll have whatever you’re having.’
‘Oh, Lord!’
Isaac was sitting in the shadows a few feet away. He was grinning at her. ‘I’ll just duck inside and get myself a mug,’ he said calmly, while Tessa’s heart pounded more painfully than ever.
This was getting ridiculous! Wasn’t there anywhere in her parents’ home where she could have some privacy?
When Isaac returned with a mug, Tessa tried to overlook the vast amount of male body outlined by his black silk boxer shorts and skimpy black T-shirt. ‘So you drink chamomile tea?’ she asked, but how could she think about herbal tea when he was so disturbingly beautiful? Apart from the hidden talents he’d alluded to earlier, Isaac had developed some rather spectacular physical attributes. He must have spent a great deal of the last nine years working his body hard, because his chest and arms were more deeply muscled than ever. And life in the outdoors had tanned his naturally dark complexion. She had to force her eyes away from feasting on him.
‘Chamomile?’ Isaac’s eyebrow arched, and then he grinned. ‘I’ll try anything once.’
Tessa kept her eyes steadily on the task of pouring his tea. ‘I find it helps me to sleep,’ she said as she filled the mugs. ‘I’m into herbal teas these days. I keep quite a range.’
‘Surely there are better ways to make you sleepy, Tess,’ Isaac murmured as he drew a chair next to hers and sat down.
Feeling her cheeks start an annoying blush, Tessa retorted, ‘Aren’t you cold? It’s the middle of winter, you know.’
Isaac chuckled. ‘People who live in the tropics don’t know what winter is.’ His amused eyes took in her sensible pink flannelette pyjamas buttoned to the neck, with long sleeves and long-legged pants. ‘Don’t tell me you’re taking those on your honeymoon.’
She glanced at him sharply. In the moonlight his dark eyes teased her.
‘Of course not,’ she answered swiftly, but the startling image of Isaac viewing her in the elegant lace and silk affair she’d bought for her honeymoon crept traitorously into her mind and sent her cheeks flaming again. Her heart shot around in her rib cage at maniacal speed.
‘I see you haven’t lost that habit,’ Isaac observed, interrupting her dangerous thoughts.
‘Habit?’ Tessa asked wildly.
He reached for her hand as it twisted a lock of hair.
‘You still fiddle with your hair when something’s bothering you,’ he said softly. She snatched her hand from the side of her head. But she was mesmerised by his proximity and by the way he stared at the strand of hair she had loosened, bright yellow against his dark skin. He rolled the lock between supple fingers and thumb.
‘Spun gold,’ he whispered. ‘Remember how I threatened to cut off a lock of your hair if you kept twisting it?’
‘You did cut it off,’ Tessa whispered back. ‘When I was sixteen. And it took ages to grow back.’
‘So I did.’ His face was only inches from hers. He stared again at the lock of hair in his hand, then frowned and dropped it abruptly.
‘I—I think I’ll take my drink to the bedroom,’ she said, stammering. It was going to take more than chamomile tea to help her relax.
‘Speaking of bedrooms,’ Isaac replied quickly, before she could stand up.
‘Which we weren’t,’ Tessa retorted, but Isaac continued as if he hadn’t noticed.
‘I was very surprised to find my old room just as it’s always been. I was certain Rosalind would have totally redecorated it by now.’
Tessa shrugged, wondering if Isaac could guess that she had begged her mother to leave everything untouched. She had known it was illogical, but she’d clung to the superstitious hope that, by changing nothing in his room, she could somehow keep Isaac’s feelings for her intact, as well.
And so the room had stayed the same. The oak desk remained by the window, and lined along the windowsill were fossilised sea creatures embedded in ancient rock. Even Isaac’s dried-out starfish and sea-urchin collections had been retained, although now the ancient white skeletons were tastefully arranged in cane decorator baskets.
‘All those marine creatures,’ she said, twisting the mug in her hands. ‘I don’t suppose they have much relevance in your life any more.’
‘Not really,’ he replied, taking a sip of tea and pulling a wry face. He seemed about to comment on the brew, then shrugged. ‘I’ve virtually turned my back on the sea and diverted my focus to the land—to the very bowels of the earth, I suppose you could say.’
‘And you like it over in Western Australia?’
He let out a brief sigh. ‘I’ve been successful there,’ he replied evasively, then added, ‘if monetary gain counts as success.’ He stared at the contents of his mug. ‘Parts of that state are superb. The Kimberley region fascinates me. It has to be among the best wilderness areas in the world. But the mines of Western Australia are completely different from the North Queensland coast. But, you see, being there made forgetting easier.’
Tessa slumped low in her seat. The mug almost slipped from her limp grasp. ‘Forgetting?’ she managed to whisper, although her throat swelled painfully. ‘You wanted