The Summer They Never Forgot Page 9

  ‘Why did you kiss me, Ben, when with every second breath you’re telling me go away?’

  Did he know the answer himself? ‘Because I—’

  He couldn’t find the words to say, Because you’re Sandy, and you’re beautiful, and I still can’t believe you’ve come back to me, but I’m afraid to let you in because I don’t want to love you and then lose you again.

  Her eyes were huge in her flushed face. She’d got damp from hugging him while he was still wet from the surf. Her tank top clung to her curves, her nipples standing erect through the layers of fabric.

  She ran the edge of her pink pointy tongue along her lips to moisten her mouth. He watched, fascinated, aching to kiss her again.

  A tremor edged her voice. ‘It’s still there, isn’t it, Ben? That attraction. That feeling there isn’t anyone else in this world at this moment but you and me. It was like that from the start and it hasn’t changed.’ She took a deep gulp of air. ‘If only...’

  He clenched his fists so hard his scars ached. ‘I told you—no if-onlys. That—the kiss—it shouldn’t have happened.’

  ‘Why not?’ Her eyes were still huge. ‘We’re both free. Grown-up now and able to choose what we want from our lives, choose who we want to be with.’

  Choose to leave when we want to.

  Even after that one brief kiss he could feel what it would be like, having found her, to lose her again. He’d managed fine these past years on his own. He couldn’t endure the pain of loss again.

  She looked very serious, her brow creased. ‘That time we had together all those years ago was so special. I don’t know about you, but I was too young to appreciate just how special. I never again felt that certainty, that rightness. Maybe this unexpected time together is a gift. For us to get to know each other again. Or...or...maybe we have to try it again so that we can let it go. Have you thought of that?’

  He shook his head. ‘It’s not that easy, Sandy.’

  ‘Of course it isn’t easy. It isn’t easy for me either. I’m not in a rush to get my heart broken again.’

  He noticed again the shadows under her eyes. Remembered her ex had got married yesterday. Typically, she wasn’t letting on about her pain. But it was there.

  ‘I can see that,’ he said.

  He was glad the beach was practically deserted, with just a few people walking along the hard, damp sand at the edge of the waves, others still in the surf. Hobo romped with another dog in the shallows.

  Her voice was low and intense. ‘Maybe if we gave it a go we’d...we’d burn it out.’

  ‘You think so?’ He couldn’t keep the cynicism from his voice.

  She threw up her hands. ‘Who knows? After all this time we don’t really know what the other is like now. Grown-up Sandy. Grown-up Ben. We might hate each other.’

  ‘I can’t see that happening.’ Hate Sandy? No way. Never.

  She scuffed the sand with her bare toes, not meeting his eyes. ‘How do you know? I like to put a positive spin on things when I can. But, fact is, I haven’t had a lot of luck with men. When I started dating—after I gave up on us seeing each other again—it seemed to me there were two types of men: nice ones, like you, who would ultimately betray me—’

  He growled his protest.

  She looked back up at him. ‘I know now it was a misunderstanding between us, but I didn’t know that then. If anyone betrayed me it was my father. By lying to me about you. By cheating on our family.’

  He didn’t disagree. ‘And the second type of man?’

  ‘Forceful, controlling guys—’

  ‘Like your father?’

  She nodded. ‘They’d convince me they knew what was best for me. I’d be in too deep before I realised they had anything but my interests at heart. But obviously I must have been at fault, too, when things went wrong.’

  ‘You’re too hard on yourself.’ He hated to see the tight expression on her face.

  Her mouth twisted into an excuse of a smile. ‘Am I? Even little things about a person can get annoying. Jason used to hate that I never replaced the empty toilet roll. It was only because the fancy holder he installed ruined my nails when I tried, but—’

  Ben couldn’t believe what he was hearing. ‘What kind of a loser was this guy?’

  ‘He wasn’t a loser. He was smart. Clever. It seemed I could be myself with him. I thought at last I’d found Mr Perfect. But that was one of the reasons he gave for falling out of love with me.’ She bit down hard on her lower lip. ‘And he said I was noisy and a show-off.’

  Ben was so astounded he couldn’t find an appropriate response.

  Her eyes flickered to his face and then away. ‘When I first knew him he said I lit up a room just by coming into it. Effervescent was the word he used. By the end he said I embarrassed him with my loud behaviour.’

  Her voice was forcedly cheerful but there was a catch to it that tore at Ben.

  ‘But you don’t want to hear about that.’

  Anger against this unknown man who had hurt Sandy fuelled him. ‘You’re damn right I don’t. It’s crap. That jerk was just saying that to make himself feel better about betraying you.’

  She pulled a self-deprecating face. ‘I tell myself that too. It made me self-conscious around people for a while—you know...the noisy show-off thing. I couldn’t help wondering if people were willing me to shut up but were too polite to say so. But...but I’ve put it behind me.’

  With his index finger he tilted her face upwards. ‘Sandy. Look at me. I would never, ever think you were an embarrassing show-off. I never have and I never will. Okay? You’re friendly and warm and you put people at ease. That’s a gift.’

  ‘Nice of you to say so. Kind words are always welcome.’ Her voice made light of what she said.

  ‘And I would never give a damn about a toilet roll.’

  Her mouth twitched. ‘It sounds so dumb when you say it out loud. A toilet roll.’ The twitch led to a smile and then to full-blown giggles. ‘What a stupid thing for a relationship to founder over.’

  ‘And what a moron he was to let it.’

  Ben found himself laughing with her. It felt good. Again, like oil on those rusty, seized emotions he had thought would never be kick-started into life again.

  ‘I was just using the toilet roll as an example of how little things about a person can get annoying to someone else,’ she said. Her laughter died away. ‘After a few days of my company you might be glad to see the end of me.’

  ‘And vice-versa?’ The way he’d cut himself off from relationships, she was more likely to get the worst end of the bargain. He was out of the habit of being a boyfriend.

  She nodded. ‘Then we could both move on, free of...free of this thing that won’t let go of us. With...with the past washed clean.’

  ‘Maybe,’ he conceded.

  She wanted to rekindle old embers to see if they burned again or fizzled away into lifeless ash. But what if they raged away like a bush fire out of control and he was the one left scorched and lifeless? Again.

  She took hold of his arm. Her voice was underscored with urgency. ‘Ben, we should grab this second chance. Otherwise we might regret it for the rest of our lives. Like I regret that I didn’t trust in what we had. I should have come back to you to Dolphin Bay. I was eighteen years old, for heaven’s sake, not eight. What could my parents have done about it?’

  ‘I came looking for you in Sydney.’ He hadn’t meant to let that out. Had never intended to tell her.

  Her brows rose. ‘When?’

  ‘A few months after you left.’

  ‘I didn’t know.’

  ‘You wouldn’t. My mates were playing football at Chatswood, on the north shore. I had my dad’s car to drive down with them.’ He’d been up from university for the Easter break. ‘After the game I found your place.’

  ‘The house in Killara?’

  He nodded. It had been a big house in a posh northern suburb, designed to show off her father’s social status. ‘I parked
outside, hoping I’d see you. Not sure what I’d do if I did.’

  ‘Why didn’t you come in?’

  ‘I was nineteen. You hadn’t written. Or phoned. For all I knew you’d forgotten all about me. And I knew your father wouldn’t welcome me.’

  ‘Was I there? I can’t believe while you were outside I might have been in my room. Probably sobbing into my diary about how much I was missing you.’

  ‘Your hat was hanging on the veranda. I could see it from outside. That funny, stripy bucket hat you used to wear.’

  She screwed up her face. ‘I remember... I lost that hat.’

  ‘No, you didn’t. I took it. I jumped over the fence and snatched it.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘You’re kidding me? My old hat? Do...do you still have it?’

  ‘Once I was back in the car my mates grabbed it from me. When we crossed the Sydney Harbour Bridge they threw it out of the window.’

  ‘Hey! That hat cost a whole lot of hard-earned babysitting money.’

  She pretended outrage, but he could tell she was shaken by his story.

  ‘I didn’t steal it to see it squashed by a truck. I wanted to punch my mates out. But they told me to stop bothering with a girl who didn’t want me when there were plenty who did.’

  Sandy didn’t say anything for a moment. Then she sighed. ‘Oh, Ben, if only...’ She shook her head. ‘I won’t say it. You’re right. No point.’

  ‘That’s when I gave up on you.’

  He’d said enough. He could never admit that for years afterwards when he’d driven over that spot on the bridge he’d looked out for her hat.

  ‘And there were other girls?’ She put her hand up in her halt sign. ‘No. Don’t tell me about them. I couldn’t bear it.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘I used to imagine all those blonde surfer chicks. Glad the city interloper was gone. Able to have their surf god all to themselves again.’

  He stared at her incredulously. ‘Did you just call me a surf god?’

  Colour stained her cheeks. ‘Hey, I’m in advertising. I get creative with copy.’ But when she looked up at him her eyes were huge and sincere. ‘I adored you, Ben. You must know that.’ Her voice caught in her throat.

  Ben shifted from foot to foot in the sand. ‘I... Uh... Same here.’ He’d planned his life around her.

  ‘Let’s spend these four days together,’ she urged. ‘Forget all that’s happened to us since we last saw each other. Just go back to how we were. Sandy and Ben. Teenagers again. Carefree. Enjoying each other’s company. Recapturing what we had.’

  ‘You mean a fling?’

  ‘A four-day fling? No strings? Why not? I’m prepared to risk it if you are.’

  Risk. Was he ready to risk the safe life he’d so carefully constructed around himself in Dolphin Bay? He’d done so well in business by taking risks. But taking this risk—even for four days—could have far greater complications than monetary loss.

  ‘Sandy. I hear what you’re saying. But I need time.’

  ‘Ben, we don’t have time. We—’

  Hobo skidded at their feet, the driftwood in his mouth, wet and eager and demanding attention.

  Sandy glared at the animal. ‘You have a great sense of timing, dog.’

  ‘Yeah, he’s known for it.’ Ben reached down for the driftwood and tossed it just a short distance away. ‘I’ve got to get him back. Dogs are only allowed unleashed on the beach before seven a.m.’

  ‘And you can’t be seen to be breaking the rules, can you?’

  Was she taunting him?

  No. The expression in her eyes was wistful, and he realised how she’d put herself on the line for him. For them. Or the possibility of them.

  He turned to her. ‘I’ll consider what you said, Sandy.’

  Her tone was again forcedly cheerful. ‘Okay, Mr President.’

  He grinned. ‘I prefer surf god.’

  ‘I’m going to regret telling you I called you that, aren’t I? Okay, surf god. But don’t take too long. These four days will be gone before we know it and then I’m out of here. Let’s not waste them.’ She turned to face the water. ‘Are the mantas still in residence?’

  ‘Yes. More likely their descendants, still scaring the hell out of tourists.’

  He remembered how she’d started off being terrified of the big black rays. But by the end of that summer she’d been snorkelling around them. She had overcome her fears. Could he be as brave?

  She reached up and hugged him. Briefly, he held her bare warmth to him before she pushed him away.

  ‘Go,’ she said, her voice not quite steady. ‘Me? I’m having my first swim at Big Ray Beach for twelve years. I can’t wait to get into the surf.’

  With unconscious grace she pulled off her skimpy tank top, giving him the full impact of her body in a brief yellow bikini. Her breasts were definitely bigger than they’d been when she was eighteen.

  Was he insane not to pull her back into his arms? To kiss her again? To laugh with her again? To have her as part of his life again?

  For four days.

  She headed for the water, treating him to a tantalising view of her sexy, shapely bottom. ‘Come see me when you’ve done your thinking,’ she called over her shoulder, before running into the surf.

  She squealed as the cold hit her. Water sprayed up over her slim brown legs and the early sunlight shattered into a million glistening crystals. More fairy dust.

  He looked at the tracks her feet had made in the sand. After the fire he had felt as if he’d been broken down to nothing—like rock into sand. Slowly, painfully, he had put himself back together. But there were cracks, places deep inside him, that still crumbled at the slightest touch.

  If he let it, could Sandy’s magic help give him the strength to become not the man he had been but someone better, finer, forged by the tragedy he had endured? Or would she break him right back down to nothing?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  EVERY TIME THE old-fashioned bell on the top of the entrance door to Bay Books jangled Sandy looked up, heart racing, body tensed in anticipation. And every time it wasn’t Ben she felt so let down she had to force herself to smile and cheerfully greet the customers, hoping they wouldn’t detect the false note to her voice.

  When would he come? Surely he wanted to be with her as much as she ached to be with him?

  Or was he staying away because she had driven him away, by coming on too strong before he was ready? His reaction had both surprised and hurt her. Why had he been so uncertain about taking this second, unexpected chance with her? It was only for four days. Surely they could handle that?

  She knew she should stop reliving every moment on the beach this morning over and over again, as if she were still eighteen. But she couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss. That wonderful, wonderful kiss. After all those years it could have been a let-down. But kissing Ben again had been everything she had ever fantasised about. In his arms, his mouth claiming hers, she’d still felt the same heady mix of comfort, pleasure and bone-melting desire. It was as if their twelve-year separation had never happened.

  Although there was a difference. Now she wanted him with an adult’s hunger—an adult’s sensual knowledge of the pleasures that could follow a kiss.

  She remembered how on fire with first-time desire she’d felt all that time ago, when they’d been making out behind the boat shed. Or in the back seat of his father’s car, parked on the bluff overlooking the ocean. They hadn’t even noticed the view. Not that they could have seen it through the fogged-up windows.

  And yet she hadn’t let him go all the way. Hadn’t felt ready for that final step. Even though she had been head-over-heels in love with him.

  Her virginal young self hadn’t appreciated the effort it must have taken for Ben to hold back. ‘When you’re ready,’ he’d always said. Not like her experiences with boys in Sydney—‘suitable’ sons of her fathers’ friends—all grabby hands and then sulks when she’d slapped them away. No. Ben truly had been her Sir Galahad on a surfboar
d.

  Would a four-day fling include making love with Ben? That might be more than she—or Ben—could handle. They should keep it to kissing. And talking. And lots of laughing. Like it had been back then. Carefree. Uncomplicated.

  She refused to listen to that nagging internal voice. Could anything be uncomplicated with the grown-up Ben?

  She forced her thoughts back to the present and got on with her work. She had to finish the job Ida had been in the middle of when she’d fallen—unpacking a delivery and slotting the books artfully onto the ‘new releases’ table.

  Just minutes later, with a sigh of satisfaction, she stepped back to survey her work. She loved working in the bookshop. Even after just a few hours she felt right at home. The individuality and quirkiness of Ida’s set-up connected with her, though she could immediately see things she’d like to change to bring the business model of this bricks-and-mortar bookstore more in step to compete with the e-bookstores. That said, if she could inject just a fraction of Bay Books’ charm into her candle shop she’d be very happy. She must write in her fairy notebook: Ask Ida about Balinese woodcarvers.

  But it wasn’t just about the wooden dolphins with their enchanting carved smiles. The idyllic setting was a vital part of Bay Books. Not, she suspected, to be matched by the high-volume-retail-traffic Melbourne mall the candle people would insist on for their shop. It might be hard to get as excited about that.

  Here, she only had to walk over to the window to view the quaint harbour, with the old-fashioned stone walls that sheltered it from the turquoise-blue waters of the open sea—only had to push the door open to hear the squawk of seagulls, breathe in the salt-tangy air.

  This morning, in her hotel room, she had been awoken by a chorus of kookaburras. When she’d opened the sliding doors to her balcony it had been to find a row of lorikeets, the small, multi-coloured parrots like living gems adorning the balcony railing. On her way to the beach she’d surprised two small kangaroos, feeding in the grass in the bushland between the boardwalk and the sand dunes of Big Ray. It was good for the soul.