Catch of The Day: Destiny Romance (27 page)

‘Olive, looks like you haven’t wiped the smile off your dial since last night,’ Winnie remarked as she hurried down the shiny hospital corridor, a huge bouquet in her arms.

Despite everything that had happened, she was determined to put on a brave face in front of her friends. Olive, already outside Honey’s door, also juggled a colourful bouquet. Honey’s husband, Owen Carmichael, who ran chartered fishing trips in his spare time, was a magazine advertiser.

‘Can’t I just be in a good mood?’ her colleague shot back, fluffing her titian bob one-handed.

Winnie paused beside her. ‘You can be. Especially if it has anything to do with a certain cattle farmer named Chester Wyatt.’ She nudged her soon-to-be ex-coworker in the ribs. ‘You’ve certainly landed on your feet. I never did get to ask you at the wedding – not with Chester glued to your side all night – what went wrong with the optometrist. Was it the single dad thing?’

‘No, no.’ Olive flapped a hand in the air. ‘There simply wasn’t a spark. Not once we had a few proper dates and he was no longer a fantasy figure. Oscar’s a really great guy, but I just didn’t feel it in the end.’ The ad manager’s eyes grew dreamy. ‘To think Chester was right under my nose all along. I thought I’d be too noisy for him, but I can be myself with him in a way I never could with Oscar. Chester and I got talking one night at the pub and the rest, as they say, is history. I know I said I wouldn’t touch half the locals with a bargepole, but Chester’s . . . different. He’s a keeper, I reckon.’

‘That’s great.’ Winnie excitedly nudged her in the side, then pulled a face. ‘What about
Farmer Wants A Wife
, though?’

‘Ah, yes.’ Olive’s eyes shone. ‘Well, ever the gentleman, he’s pulled out. It took a bit of work to wangle out of his contract, but he got there in the end. It’s lucky, because if he
did
do the show, I’d have had to get stuck into any women with a cattle prod.’

Winnie grinned. ‘That’s my Olive.’

She made a metal note to put a footnote on Chester’s
Beach Life
interview about the turn of events. Still, it’d make an even better story – 
Farmer Finds Love Before the Camera Rolls
.

The ad manager’s voice dropped. ‘So, the helicopter arrival and everything was all a bit strange yesterday. What about you and Mr Billionaire Shipping Heir? Sorted things out? Talk about landing on your feet!’

Winnie pulled a face. ‘No, no, nothing to report. I don’t think we’re going to have the happy ending you guys have had. Besides, I’m not interested in money. I’ve had enough of men from – from that world. Integrity, honesty – that’s what does it for me. Which,’ she hastily added, ‘Chester appears to have both of in spades,
along
with a healthy bank account.’

Olive pulled a sympathetic face. ‘I’m sorry to hear about Alex. His loss. By the way, I never did properly say sorry for going off at you about your interview in Sydney. Of course, it’s your prerogative to pursue whatever career opportunities you like. I was just mad because I knew I’d miss you. I reckon we’ve built up a good rapport at the office, you and me.’

‘I know, and I’m going to miss you, too. But I’m not going anywhere – I’ve decided I’ll go freelance, which means I’ll still be in the same town. We can stay in touch, do lunch, catch up on gossip.’

‘I’m glad. I just hope they find a good replacement for you.’ She crossed her eyes. ‘It better not wind up being someone like Yasmin Cox.’

‘Oh dear, don’t even
say
that.’

‘Of course,’ Olive mused, ‘if it does wind up being another city slicker, I’m sure it won’t take me long to whip them into shape.’

Winnie smiled. ‘If anyone could, it’d be you.’

‘Shall we go in?’

Winnie nodded solemnly. ‘Let’s.’

Beyond the door, they found Honey propped up against fat white pillows in bed, a twin bassinets by her side. Cyndi and Owen sat in chairs by a window overlooking a garden. Yesterday had been the first time Winnie had actually met Honey’s husband – an attractive, outdoorsy blond sort, with dimples and a mild manner, especially compared to his wife.

‘Not more flowers,’ Honey griped. ‘It’s like a funeral home in here.’

Olive rested her bouquet next to Winnie’s on a cabinet counter, nodding at the cradles. ‘The bubs are asleep?’

‘Yeah, you just missed feeding time at the zoo.’

Winnie perched on the edge of the hospital bed, leaning forwards to tap Honey’s hand. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘I’m a bit bushed, but happy,’ Honey said. ‘There was no time for burning lavender oil or Hypnobirthing-style nipple tweaking last night – not that I was actually going to do any of those things. The little tadpoles were in a hurry to get out and see the world.’

Owen reached forward to squeeze her hand. ‘The only thing she insisted on was AC/DC classics for the labour. Like a true-blue Aussie.’

‘It was better than Salt-N-Pepa’s “Push It” or Justin Bieber’s “Baby”,’ Honey quipped.

‘So the suspense is killing us,’ Olive piped up, hovering near the end of the bed. ‘Names? Sexes? Spill.’

A look of happiness floated over Honey’s features. ‘We had a pigeon pair. The girl’s Lucinda, like Lucindale, and the boy’s Kingsley, in honour of Kingston.’

Climbing from the bed, Winnie edged over to the bassinets for a peek at the bundles of joy. Her lips curved into a smile. ‘What happy little Vegemites.’ She glanced over at Honey. ‘So seems like it was worth it in the end, despite all the grumbling during your pregnancy?’

Honey’s forehead creased. ‘I didn’t grumble much, did I?’

Winnie exchanged loaded looks with Cyndi, who was reaching for something in her handbag. She bit back a laugh. ‘No, I suppose not.’

A popping sound rang through the air from Cyndi’s direction. An opened bag of salt-and-vinegar potato chips was now in her hands. ‘Sorry. I haven’t had breakfast.’

Honey gaped at her best friend. ‘I thought your new thing was not adding salt to your meals.’

Cyndi thoughtfully chewed on a mouthful. ‘But I didn’t add any salt – it came with the packet.’

As Winnie listened to the pair affectionately squabble, she felt her phone vibrate in her bag. Bugger. Being in a hospital room, she’d meant to switch the thing off. Fumbling for the device, she moved to jab the power button, but was distracted by the name onscreen. Alex.

Unable to help herself, she discreetly clicked open the text. It read,
Id love to talk. Please. Cld u meet me@ the office?

After pausing, Winnie typed a string of angry responses, deleted each of them, then typed a simple
Okay
. After all, she deserved answers; a lightening of her load. Especially as it looked like he’d be skipping town faster than her now. It didn’t mean she’d fall into his arms. She was doing it for herself. Her sanity.

His reply was swift.
Meet me@ the back entrance. Half hr?

Fine,
she texted back then switched off the device as planned, her heart pounding.

Later, on the way to her car, she had to sidestep two inky-black crows plonked in the middle of the cracked footpath. She took it as a bad omen, not that she needed one. She knew when it came to her and Alex, things were beyond repair.

‘I want you to have the exclusive – to interview me.’

Winnie fingered the fishtail braid at the side of her neck. ‘Excuse me?’ First, Alex had made her let them in through the office’s back door. Then he’d had her sit opposite him, no desk between them, in the semi-darkness, with the blinds drawn. It was all very cloak and dagger. Ridiculous.

Alex ploughed on. ‘I was going to leave town, but . . . I thought of you.’ He quickly amended, ‘Of
Beach Life
.’

‘Isn’t that a bit presumptuous?’ she retorted.

Alex looked at his hands. ‘There are media, from all over, camped outside my place already. Kirk’s been good enough to let me hide out at his for a while, but the reporters will find me soon enough.’ He lifted his head, holding her gaze. ‘It’s your choice. I just thought you, of all people, deserved some sort of explanation for what happened.’

Winnie chewed on her bottom lip. ‘Well, I rang Christa a few days back and gave notice to quit
Beach Life
,’ she shot back, ‘so if I do say yes, it’ll be my last story for the magazine.’ Of course, Christa would make room for such a piece at the eleventh hour. It was media gold. Not that Christa herself particularly cared.

A stricken expression crossed Alex’s face, which Winnie briefly found touching. But as far as she knew, it could all be an act. She wouldn’t put it past him – not now. The skin under his eyes looked dark, as though he’d been tossing and turning all night, like her.

‘You’re
leaving
?’

‘The magazine, yes, but I’m staying in Kingston – at least for a while.’ Winnie hunched her shoulders protectively, like a turtle drawing into its shell. ‘I’ve decided to go freelance – like you, I guess – and technology means I can do it anywhere. This town feels like the right place at the moment, as does not being at one boss’s beck and call. I can pursue whatever stories I’m interested in. Be a free spirit. I’m not sure exactly how long I’ll stay or where to next – maybe Adelaide – but I’m actually finding the feeling kind of liberating.’

‘Good on you.’

Something snapped in Winnie. Why the hell was she telling him her plans? He didn’t deserve to know anything about her life any more – he’d relinquished that right. The time for small talk was over. She was here for answers, that was all. Jumping to her feet, she fished her phone from her bag, turned the voice recorder on and thwacked it on her desk. Then she grabbed a notepad and biro and perched on the edge of her chair.

‘Right.’ She clicked the top of the pen, her tone cool. ‘First, what should I put your name down as?’

Alex scraped a hand through his new short, spiky hair, looking exactly like the online pictures of him she’d seen. ‘Fair enough. Officially, it’s Ciro Ballas the third.’ He looked up again, his green eyes earnest. ‘But my
good friends
have always called me Alex – short for my middle name, Alexio.’ He moved his mouth to one side. ‘“Bass” was just made up, though. A play on “Ballas”.’

‘Ciro Ballas it is.’ Winnie carefully noted down the name as though her life depended on it, aware she was gouging the page with the ballpoint tip. Anger did that to a girl. Finally, she looked up, her steely gaze prompting him to do the same. ‘So why did you lie – to me and the rest of town?’

Alex sighed. ‘I deserve that, and that’s why I want to explain. Why I played my cards close to my chest, why I felt I couldn’t trust anyone.’ He gave her a searching look, before persisting. ‘My father, as you probably now know, is a powerful shipping magnate. To become that way he’s had to be ruthless, do things I haven’t agreed with. Like secretly selling off my grandfather’s business – the one he inherited, which helped kickstart his own empire.’

Alex shook his head. ‘My grandpa had humble beginnings, starting out with a borrowed dinghy, fishing in the waters where he grew up. His dream was to one day have the family name on a seafood processing company – and he broke his back to achieve that dream. He built up the company so it had an international reach as a seafood importer, retailer and wholesaler.

‘Later, when he handed the family company over to my dad, he had one request: to keep the original arm of the business going. To continue the family legacy and keep those who’d worked by his side in employment. My father agreed, but while my grandpa was on his deathbed, he did an about-face, selling off the family brand to a conglomerate.

‘The company got swallowed up and the conglomerate’s name was stuck over its products.’ Alex’s voice grew quiet. ‘My grandpa’s health, which had been on the mend after a stroke, deteriorated once he discovered what had happened. That his son had reneged on his promise. Effectively, my father’s betrayal
killed
him.’ Alex’s mouth twisted bitterly. ‘And my grandpa found out the news, which had been kept hush-hush in the family for his own wellbeing, all thanks to my former fiancé.’

‘Olympia,’ Winnie offered, the sound seeming to come from somewhere else.

Alex nodded, sighing again. ‘Unbeknown to me, she’d been tipping off the media about my family’s whereabouts – including where my grandpa was recuperating in hospital. That was the final straw. She did it all in the hope of scoring her own gossip column or TV entertainment reporter gig without any qualifications. She was all sweetness and light to my face, of course – and I thought she loved me – but at the same time she was betraying my trust.

‘Thanks to Olympia, who blabbed to the press about it, my grandpa discovered my father was selling off the original family brand when he picked up a paper. And the next day,’ Alex looked somewhere over her shoulder, ‘he died.’ He rubbed his newly shaven jaw. ‘I didn’t want to be part of that world, that
life
 – the treachery – any more, so I skipped town. But I should have faced up to my father a long time ago, told him how I really felt, instead of just running away.’

A thick silence hung between them. Winnie broke it by clearing her throat. ‘You know, I knew a lot of that already. I did some reading on the internet last night, trying to find out exactly who you really were.
Are.
’ Her voice caught. ‘But it still doesn’t explain why you lied to me, why you tarred me with the same brush as Olympia. I thought you would have known me better by now. Seen my true colours shining through.
Trusted
me.’

Alex breathed out through his nose. ‘I know, I know. And I know now I’ve behaved no better than Olympia – or my dad – in telling half-truths,’ he held her gaze again, ‘lying to the people I
care
about. But I got so wrapped up in my own Greek tragedy – so self-absorbed – I couldn’t see the light of day. Couldn’t see how my deception might be trampling on others’ feelings —’

‘How it was making a fool of them,’ Winnie cut in.

‘Yes, that,’ Alex said quietly, kneading the back of his neck. ‘And the worst bit about playing out the charade in front of the entire town,’ he looked deep into her eyes, ‘was deceiving the woman I love.’

Love.
Her heart leapt and her spine tingled at the word, but for once Winnie wasn’t going to let her emotions run away with her. She had to dig in her heels, think with her head. Not get swept away.

He placed his hands on both her knees, sending pins and needles up and down her thighs. ‘We belong together, Winnie. We challenge each other and we bring out the best in one another. You made me believe in love again. Trust again. And don’t think I don’t beat myself up knowing how much of a mess I’ve made of things, how I’ve risked having you slip through the net due to my own – my own stupidity. You’ve changed me.’

Winnie’s lips trembled. ‘Don’t, Alex. Put yourself in my shoes. How can I ever
trust
you again?’ She shook her head. ‘
Anything
that comes out of your mouth?’

He reached out to grab her hand, placing it over his heart, her pen slipping from her grip. Not that she’d been using it beyond printing his name, though the voice recorder still rolled. She shivered at the touch of his warm fingers enclosing her own. ‘Because, deep down, you
know
me, too, Winnie. And it doesn’t matter about names, titles, truths from the past. You know how we fit together.’

Heat swirled through her body, but it was quelled by sudden anger. She tore her hand from his and jerked her knee back. ‘I understand why you closed yourself off in the face of everything that happened. Why you’d come not to trust anyone. I’m just hurt you couldn’t have found some way to trust
me
earlier. To confess before your father arrived on the scene.’

‘And I
was
all set to tell you before he turned up, I swear. The night of the wedding, I’d decided to tell you everything. But you’re right. It was too little, too late, and I’ve certainly learnt my lesson. I’m not a perfect person. I’ve made my mistakes. But I’m trying to change. Grow. Do you . . . do you think you could ever forgive me?’

Winnie looked into his green eyes and saw only truth reflected back. For the first time, the security screens had been lowered. Kingston seemed to have changed him, too. She did believe he understood the extent of his actions – that he hadn’t meant to hurt her, even though he’d made a royal mess of things. That he was contrite, willing to change. Still, she was reluctant. It didn’t mean their relationship could work in the real world. He was no longer who she thought he was.

‘I don’t know, Alex. I
don’t
. Aside from the fact I can’t rely on you, I’m – I’m a small-city girl at heart. From Adelaide.’ She shook her head. ‘I’m not cut out for your kind of world, as hard as I’ve tried to be. I know that now.’

Alex’s gaze didn’t falter from hers. ‘And I’m originally from a tiny Greek fishing village. Plus, despite my father’s desires for me to be part of his empire, all I want to do is fish half the year and sail the world taking photos the rest. Honour my grandfather’s legacy. Maybe one day I’ll start a food company of my own, like
pappou
’s – a
boutique
one. Who knows, though? It might not even involve seafood. It might be vegetarian-inspired.

‘For now, though, Kingston’s got under my skin. I mean, I’ve bought a ute, picked up Aussie slang, and just got my skipper’s licence. More importantly,’ he touched her face, ‘
you’ve
got under my skin. I couldn’t want any more.’

Winnie’s voice wavered. ‘But I read about your family last night. Your father owns an
island
, for Pete’s sake. Your family has mansions, yachts, private jets, luxury cars, friends in all the right places.’

‘Not friends, just people who want to be seen with them,’ Alex cut in. ‘But none of that matters anyway. The point is I’m still the same person. Just with a past.’

‘I had you sleep on my beanbag!’ Winnie exclaimed.

‘And it was a little lumpy,’ he said, offering her a half-smile, ‘but doable.’ He leant in closer and she breathed in his unforgettable, manly scent.

She shook her head, her tone soft, disbelieving. ‘Most people don’t walk away from money.’

He edged even closer, his breath warm on her skin. ‘I’m not most people. Who wants sycophants kissing their feet for no good reason?’ His face suddenly grew serious. ‘I have a proposition I want to make you, if you’ll hear me out.’

‘Okay.’

‘Fishing season’s almost over. How would you feel about coming sailing with me for a while? Could you still freelance from the back of a boat? It wouldn’t be five-star luxury, unfortunately, but I’d love some help putting words together for some possible articles – eco-travel,
National Geographic
, that sort of thing.’ For a second, he almost looked shy. ‘If you’d be interested at all, as my partner in crime – and girlfriend. It could be a clean slate.’

Girlfriend.
Clean slate.
The words tossed around in her mind. She drew in a shaky breath, his proximity beginning to put her in danger of a coronary condition.

‘I don’t know. It sounds stupid, but I saw two crows earlier on.’ She directed her gaze at his shirt pocket. ‘And I took it as a bad sign. For us.’

Alex’s eyes crinkled at the corners. He shook his head. ‘Two crows mean joy. They mate for life.’

Like Mrs Mannix’s French angelfish.

‘Oh, right.’

Somehow she’d become as entwined with nature as the locals whose livelihood depended on it. But he was staring at her, still waiting for a response. Suddenly, Winnie’s own version of ‘Islands in the Stream’ started up in her head, reminding her of the song on the radio during their trip to the vet. She gnawed on her lower lip.

‘I think I could handle that. The sailing. And . . . the rest. So long as you promise to tell me the whole truth and nothing but the truth from now on.’

‘I promise,’ he whispered.

‘And feel free to call me “Edwina” from now on. That’s
my
real name – the family one I share with my mother and grandma.’ Maybe it was time she turned over a new leaf, too. Accepted all parts of herself and her history. Including the fact that she was more like her mum than she cared to admit: an animal lover; creative and sometimes chaotic; prone to being blindsided by love. Perhaps that’s why her mum irritated her. At the same time, though, Winnie was wise enough to learn from her elder’s mistakes.

Alex moved his hands to cup her face. ‘Edwina. I like that.’

‘Where did you have in mind to head first?’ Winnie asked breathlessly, prolonging the moment, almost scared it might all suddenly evaporate before her eyes.

‘The world’s our oyster,’ he said smoothly. ‘I’m open to suggestions.’

She licked her lips. ‘Right . . . better start poring over my atlas.’

Before she could think of anything else to say, he drew her into his lap, and her notepad hit the floor. Her heart practically burst out of her chest as his luscious mouth came down on hers, warmth flooding every fibre of her being. Bubbles of happiness and joy exploded inside her. All her earlier reluctance melted away. It felt oh so right. Somehow she’d done the unthinkable: converted an emotionally unavailable man into a very available one.

For a fleeting moment, she imagined how irritated Bruna would be to discover she’d landed herself a fisherman, as predicted, and one from a wealthy family at that. Not that his background mattered one iota to Winnie. She’d fallen in love with Alex well before she knew, and honestly didn’t care if he never saw a penny of his family money.