The Australian Affairs Collection. Margaret Way
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safely back in her kitchen, she stood with her back to the connecting door and braced herself against it, urging her heart to slow down, her breath to steady from short, urgent gasps to a more regular pattern.
How could she ever forget how Declan looked working out in that gym? How much she wanted him? Wanted this man who had made it so very clear he had nothing to give her.
Actually, when she thought back, even a meaningless fling was not on offer. He had kissed her. That was all. But it had been such a wonderful kiss, of course she had thought further to what that kind of kiss could lead to. Making love with Declan. If that one kiss had given her so much pleasure, what would—?
She could not go there. That would be dreaming an impossible dream. Declan was still deeply entrenched in his marriage—even though his wife had passed away two years ago, Declan had not moved on. The only outcome of letting herself fall for him would be heartbreak. And she had had more than enough of that. She had to keep reminding herself of that.
The grey light of dawn was starting to filter through the blinds of the apartment. She knew there was zero chance of getting back to sleep now. A quick, very cold shower and then get out into the garden.
She had a big day planned—and a surprise for Declan that he might like, or hate so much she’d never be able to face him again.
* * *
Mid-afternoon and Declan was surprised to get a text from Shelley asking him could he come down to the garden as soon as he could.
From his observation point in his office, he’d noticed a lot of activity in the grounds. A delivery of plants. Lots of digging on Shelley’s part. And the pool guys were there again.
He heaved himself up from his desk. He was tired and grumpy. He hadn’t slept at all the night before. But then what was new about that?
He’d worked right through. Burying himself in work was a better alternative to angsting about Shelley. Thinking about the difference she had made to his life. Not just because of Estella. In fact Estella seemed somehow peripheral now.
He realised now he had used Estella as a block to getting to know the real Shelley, not his imagined version of her. Estella had been self-protection.
There could be no doubt his attraction to Shelley made him see a glimmer of hope in the dark reality of his grief, a thawing of his long-frozen emotions. The kiss had made that very clear.
But the consequences if things went awry were huge—not just for him but for her. Shelley was an exceptional woman in every way—and he didn’t want to hurt her because he’d taken a step towards her too soon.
Perhaps she sensed his ambivalence and that was why she was determined to keep him at a distance, to concentrate on her plans for a career far away from here—and from him.
Before dawn he had gone down to the basement gym and driven his body through a punishing regime. Extended his body to its limits in a gruelling workout so that no thoughts could intrude—just pure physicality.
Even then—on the point of utter exhaustion—he couldn’t sleep. After his workout he had showered in the gym bathroom, then made his way up to the kitchen.
Breakfast was the one meal he was expert at preparing. Protein and lots of it was required after such an intense workout. So why in hell had he been hit by a craving for banana muffins? He’d wanted one so badly he had sworn he could smell them fresh out of the oven right there in his kitchen.
He’d been forced to phone through an order to a local bakery and have banana muffins express delivered. They tasted nothing like how he had anticipated—dry and unpalatable. There wasn’t a crumb of Shelley’s pie left either. He’d bet she’d bake a muffin that would taste a hundred times better than the ones he’d had delivered and that had subsequently landed in the trash.
His unsatisfied craving had made him grumpier than ever. And that was on top of his craving for her.
Now Shelley wanted to see him to show him something in the garden. Oddly enough, he was looking forward to it. Seeing the garden emerge from the mess it had been was more satisfying than he could ever have imagined. Shelley had vision; there was no doubt about that.
He texted her: I’ll be down in half an hour.
She was waiting for him by the fountain—familiar Shelley in her khaki gardener garb. She coloured high on her cheeks when he greeted her—the previous time they’d met he’d been kissing her.
Inwardly he groaned. He wasn’t good at this. The last time he’d dated a woman had been when he’d met Lisa—and there hadn’t been many before her in spite of what Shelley might think.
‘Notice anything?’ she asked cheerfully.
Other than how beautiful you look—even in those awful clothes?
He nodded. ‘There’s water in the pond.’
‘And it’s not leaking away. It’s been in there for forty-eight hours. I think the pool guys nailed it. Well, not literally nailed it, of course. If they had, it would be leaking more than ever, wouldn’t it? I mean...’ Her voice trailed away.
In spite of his grumpiness he smiled; Shelley seemed to always make him smile. ‘I get what you mean.’
He inspected the pond and its surrounds, now all mellow sandstone free of grime and mould.
‘It looks awesome, doesn’t it?’ she said, eyes wide seeking his approval.
Even if it didn’t look awesome, he would say it did just so as not to extinguish that light in her eyes.
‘It’s awesome, all right. What about the fountain—does it work?’
‘That’s why I asked you down here,’ she said with a flourish of her hand. ‘You are formally invited to the grand ceremonial switching on of the fountain.’
She took him around to the back of the far wall of the pond and showed him a small, discreet box housing a switch. ‘The pump is behind there and all safely wired up to low-voltage electricity. All you have to do is turn it on.’ She paused. ‘Go ahead, you do this. It’s your fountain.’
‘But you’re the driving force behind it,’ he said. ‘The honour should be yours. You’ve put so much into it.’
Her smile dimmed. ‘It’s my job, Declan. This is what I do. And when I finish this job there’ll be another garden somewhere else.’
He ducked down to turn on the switch, hoping she wouldn’t see the sudden pain her words caused him.
Standing beside her—and noting how carefully she kept her distance—he watched as the water started to pump through the fountain, shooting up from the top and cascading down the tiers. The water sparkled as sunlight caught it and refracted off the droplets. Now he knew exactly what she meant about adding movement to the garden. And a different element of beauty. But Shelley was the most beautiful thing in this garden.
‘It’s just wonderful, isn’t it?’ she said softly. ‘I knew it was worth saving. Sometimes the things you have to work hardest to restore become the most valuable.’
‘You’re right,’ he said, his voice suddenly husky.
It was his garden and she a paid employee. But she had put her heart and soul into this restoration.
While he was pleased at how the garden was progressing, he wished he could slow down the progress to give him time to come to terms with what Shelley meant to him. As it was, the days were ticking away until the time she’d pack up her tools and move on.
Unless he stopped her.
Right now he didn’t know how that was possible.
A tiny blue wren flew through the spray of the fountain, fluffing his wings as he went. He was immediately followed by his little brown mate.