Licence to Dream (7 page)

‘How old are you? You don't look nearly old enough to be a qualified accountant.’

She stopped trying to hide her annoyance. ‘I'm thirty years old,
if
that’s any of your business, and I think you'll find that I'm both well qualified and experienced. Mr Repping, the Senior Partner, has complete confidence in my ability to handle your account, or he wouldn't have put me in charge of it.’ She shoved a summary sheet across the table at him with such force he only just managed to catch it before it slid off the edge. ‘Now, let me show you . . . ’

‘You look about seventeen.’

‘I don't happen to have my birth certificate handy, but if it means so much to you, I'm sure Mr Repping will be happy to confirm my age in writing.’

He opened his mouth, looked at her face and shut his mouth again. Picking up the summary sheet, he began to study the figures on it.

His expression became serious as she took him through the muddles of his late uncle's business affairs. Total chaos was a more accurate description. She had to explain some things more than once and could tell he wasn’t comfortable with complex figures, so went through them very slowly, stopping to check that he’d understood.

‘So,’ she wound up, glancing surreptitiously at her watch, ‘I think it'll take several weeks to work everything out, and even then, we'll still have your late uncle's tax situation to deal with. As far as I can make out, he's not lodged a tax return for several years. I can't imagine how he got away with that.’

‘So you don't know yet, then, whether I've been left anything worthwhile or simply a collection of liabilities?’

‘I think you'll find it quite a substantial inheritance, though not in cash terms. He was land rich and cash poor, from what I can make out. Of course we only have a rough idea of how much the properties he’s left you are worth at this stage and the council rates haven't been paid on them for a while. Still, you should realise a decent sum of money if you sell them, a few million dollars if you do it carefully.’

‘That's Uncle Johnny for you! He had a ridiculous faith in putting money into land.’ Ben Elless sighed as he leaned back. ‘Quite frankly, this couldn't have come at a more inconvenient time administratively. I have heavy commitments in Queensland just now.’

He yawned then stretched like a sleepy lion. ‘I'm sorry. I had to fly over on last night’s red-eye special and it was full of happy teenagers. I've had meetings from eight o'clock this morning straight through and the lack of sleep is beginning to catch up with me.’

She glanced at her watch again, her lips tightening in dismay when she realised they'd been here for well over the allotted half hour already. Today of all days she couldn’t afford to be late.

His voice brought her back to attention. ‘Can you carry on with this – sort out the taxes, then leave things until I have more time?’

‘Yes, of course.’ She tried to hurry things along. ‘Well, if everything is to your satisfaction, Mr Elless . . . ’

He didn't take the hint but leaned back in his chair and smiled at her again, a warm uncomplicated smile this time. ‘I think I've been a little – er – brusque with you today.’

A little brusque! He'd been as tactful as a charging rhinoceros. If he were not her client, she would have enjoyed telling him exactly what she thought of arrogant men who traded on their good looks and left their manners at home. ‘Just a little.’

‘I apologise for that. Mind you, I still think that you look too young to be a senior accountant,’ again his eyes raked her from head to toe, ‘but if you say you're thirty, I believe you. You obviously know your stuff. So you'll continue to work on my uncle’s estate?’

‘Yes, of course.’ She waited impatiently for him to get up and leave. To her annoyance, her stomach gurgled loudly.

He grinned. ‘Not eaten yet, Ms Ingram? By the way, what is your first name?’

She ignored that question. Unlike her Australian colleagues she preferred not to get on first-name terms with clients. ‘I haven't had lunch yet, so if you'll excuse me, I – ’

‘How about I buy you lunch to apologise?’

The last thing she wanted was to have lunch with a client, even if she was free to do so, which she wasn't. And this guy might be all sweetness and light now, but he had been extremely rude to her before, with no justification whatsoever. In fact, he’d behaved in an utterly chauvinistic way, doubting her capability as an accountant.

She leaned back and gave Mr Elless a cool stare. ‘I'm sorry. I've made other arrangements for lunch.’

‘Dinner, then?’

‘No way!’ The words burst out before she could stop herself. She could see his surprise, the way his eyes narrowed.

‘I was that rude to you, was I?’

Time was passing. She was due to take that final examination in just over an hour, and she still had to eat and get across town to the college. ‘I'm not free.’

‘Pity.’

When he continued to sit there, she took the initiative by standing up and walking round the desk, ready to move towards the door.

He stood up, too, but instead of shaking her outstretched hand, he took it in both his and kept hold of it. ‘Couldn't you take pity on a stranger to Perth and break your engagement tonight?’

He was so large and vibrantly male that her breath caught in her throat. She looked up at him and for a moment forgot everything. She had to take several slow deep breaths before she could get her thoughts in order. How could this be happening to her? She had never before reacted to a stranger on such an instinctive physical level and it shocked her. He was clasping her hand so tightly she didn't like to make an issue of pulling it away.

Then common sense took over. This was just a passing physical attraction, she told herself, straightening her shoulders and stepping backwards. It happened to people all the time. You met a stranger and something sparked between you. It was no big deal.

If she ignored it, it would go away. And so would he. After all, he lived in Queensland. She tried to remove her hand and his fingers tightened on hers.

‘Sure you won't change your mind?’

‘No, thank you. I’m–um, in a long-term relationship.’

He didn’t try to hide his disappointment and let go. But although she had her hand free now, she could still feel the imprint of his fingers on hers.

‘He’s a lucky man.’

She led the way briskly along the corridor to the reception area and said a crisp goodbye, but it wasn’t until she sat down at her desk in the quietness of the long examination hall that Meriel managed to get the image of Ben Elless out of her mind. She forgot everything then but the questions in front of her. She had learned the basics of her new trade now, and one day she would earn her living entirely as an artist.

She had vowed to do that when she started on this course, and she intended to make the dream come true, however long it took.

* * * *

When he left the accountant’s office, Ben Elless stopped for a moment to shake his head in bewilderment. What on earth had got into him, pressuring a stranger for a date like that? He’d been acting like a seventeen-year-old with raging testosterone fever. The last thing he needed at the moment, the very last, was to get involved with a woman.

Then sadness took over for a moment or two. Such an instant attraction hadn’t happened to him for a long time, not since he’d met Sandy.

To his ongoing annoyance, over the next few days he had trouble getting the beautiful Ms Ingram out of his mind. It wasn’t her good looks, though that didn’t hurt, it was something much deeper than that. He grinned at the memory of how indignant she’d been when he asked her age. Well, that had been absolutely stupid of him. Only she did look young and untouched, somehow.

It was strange that he should feel so attracted to her, because he didn't normally go for blondes. Or small women. And why the hell was he thinking about her again?

He was relieved when he finished his business in Perth and could go home to Brisbane. He phoned the office from the airport, hoping to pop in and see Phil before he left for the day, but got only the answer phone. He was beginning to think his partner was avoiding him and to wonder why. At this stage they should be liaising closely on the current project.

Should he drop in on Phil at home? No, not today. Phil’s wife would insist on Ben staying for a meal and he didn’t want to involve her in any arguments because she was a nice enough woman.

Perhaps there was nothing wrong, but Ben felt uneasy. Phil had been behaving himself since their last confrontation, but recently he had been rather elusive. It wouldn’t hurt, though, to do some careful checking that everything was in order. Well, Ben knew he ought to have done so before now, but he’d been too busy implementing a particularly complex design to catch his breath.

Needing a bit of peace and quiet after all the hassles of his Perth trip, he picked up his car and headed out of the city centre. As he sang along to the music he felt the tension drop away. He wasn’t really interested in being a high-powered businessman but he absolutely loved designing gardens, and the bigger the better.

One day he’d find a piece of land and start work on the big project he’d been dreaming about for years. Perhaps he’d even do this on one of his uncle’s blocks of land. He had very fond childhood memories of living in York and learning about the bush.

Unfortunately, although the recent legacy from Uncle Johnny was good news in one way, it was bad in another because it’d take time and effort he could ill afford to sort everything out. At this stage he needed to focus on the business and keeping Phil in order. No small task.

He couldn’t help smiling at the thought of his inheritance, though, and he was looking forward to seeing the old house in York again. He’d such happy memories of living there as a boy.

He’d have to see Ms Ingram again, too, when he visited the accountant in Perth. He wouldn’t mind that, either. Perhaps she’d be free by then to have dinner with him.

The art examination was so straightforward it was an anti-climax. When it was over, Meriel felt empty and drained. That was it. She’d finished her studies.

She didn’t really want to go out for a celebratory drink with the others but did it anyway. They’d become good friends as they studied and you never knew when you’d meet someone again in a place like Western Australia, which had a small population, however big its physical size.

She excused herself after an hour or so, pleading a date. Everything seemed a little unreal as she walked back to her car.

On her way home she stopped at the shops and pulled up short at the sight of a display of birthday cards. Oops! She’d nearly forgotten to get a card for her mother. She’d better buy one now and put it in the post for England straight away. If it didn’t arrive on time, her mother would be upset and huffy.

As she was paying for the card Meriel noticed the Lotto machine on the counter. She didn't normally buy lottery coupons because the odds against winning were astronomical and it was a complete waste of money. She had told Rosanna so dozens of times, but her friend just laughed and said she enjoyed her weekly licence to dream.

Today, however, was a special day and Meriel had an urge to do something different to mark that. She hadn’t been lucky in love, so she might as well test the old saying and see if she was lucky in other ways. ‘I'll have one of those things as well,’ she said.

‘Slikpik?’

‘Yes, all right. Give me a slikpik.’ She waited impatiently as the machine churned out a coupon, choosing her numbers for her, then stuffed it into her purse and left, already regretting her impulsive purchase. That money could have been added to her savings. She’d wasted it, absolutely thrown it away.

Back at her flat she hurled her handbag on the couch, dumped her shopping in the kitchen and sank into her favourite chair. She’d found the wooden rocking chair in a junk shop. Some idiot had painted it a hideous shade of green. Thanks to Grandpop's training, she had recognised its potential, stripped off the gunk and waxed the chair until it gleamed. The wood was now a glossy honey colour, the carved back fitted the curves of her spine exactly and she usually found sitting in it soothing. But not today. Today, nothing seemed to soothe her.

She wasn't worried about the exam. She knew she’d passed and probably done quite well, too. But she felt empty, not elated. Was that because she’d reached one of her main goals in life and what she really wanted now was to use her new skills?

Well, she couldn’t, had to continue number crunching and that was that.

She wished . . . oh, she didn’t know what she wished! That was the trouble.

* * * *

Meriel spent Saturday working on a painting. She was designing a series of greeting cards based on Australian flora and fauna, and was rather pleased with the results so far. As usual she lost herself in her work and it was lunchtime before she knew it.

While she was eating she flipped through a magazine. One of the male models looked a bit like Ben Elless and . . . She got annoyed with herself for thinking about him again. Anyway, the man in the magazine wasn’t nearly as good looking and . . . she tossed it on to the low coffee table.

On the Sunday she slipped out to get some fresh air and buy a newspaper, enjoying the spring sunshine. Only when she opened her handbag did she remember that she’d bought a Lotto coupon. She scowled at it. Might as well throw it away. But of course, she didn’t. She would have worried that she might have won ten dollars or whatever tiny amount you did occasionally win on these things.

When she got back home she dumped the newspaper on the kitchen surface, made herself a cup of coffee then settled down to read.

Only later as she was putting her bag away did she remember to take out the Lotto coupon and check the numbers in the newspaper. It was hardly worth bothering, but still . . . Shrugging, she picked up a pencil. She might just, if she were very lucky, recoup her money.

A minute later she stared in startled disbelief at the line of circled figures. Six numbers, all in one row. Her heart began thumping so loudly she had to press her hands against her chest to calm herself.