The Collector's Edition Volume 1 (56 page)

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Authors: Emma Darcy

BOOK: The Collector's Edition Volume 1
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“Of course.”
“And it’s a secure career.”
“Some scars run deep, don’t they?” he murmured sympathetically.
She wondered how deeply his scars ran. She knew that none of her family would ever forget the effect of bankruptcy on their father. On them, too. “It strikes people different ways. I think my sister Kate will always be a Gipsy, travelling light, few possessions. She’s working in London at the moment.”
“Yes. Your father told me. Patrick’s in Canberra with the federal police, and Tess recently married and moved to Perth with her husband.”
Beth smiled. “It was a beautiful wedding. Tess looked radiantly happy.”
He returned the smile. “Tess was always a delight. So bubbly and game for anything.”
“Still is,” Beth agreed, comfortable with the conversation about her family. Talking about the familiar took away the edge of facing an intimate stranger.
As she went on eating her meal, enjoying it to the last morsel, memories flooded in and out of her mind. Jamie showing Patrick how best to climb a tree, carrying Kate home when she’d gashed her leg, teaching Tess how to swim. Her brothers and sisters had all looked up to him.
They would look up to him now for the success he had made of his life. Kate would consider him a gorgeous hunk, as well. But what was in the soul of a survivor apart from the scream for all that was unattainable to him? Was she part of that scream? Did he want her to answer it? Or did he want to lay the old part of his life to rest?
When their waiter cleared the table, she sat back and tried to assess the man he had become. He returned her thoughtful gaze, as though assessing her, too. They had shared highly physical intimacies, yet in some strange way, this exchange of words was more deeply intimate, cutting through the years to an understanding that had once needed no words at all.
“All your chicks have flown, Beth,” he quietly remarked.
Except Kevin. Who would never fly.
“Is there anything to keep you in Melbourne?”
Danger signals zipped along Beth’s nerves. The talk about her family—this was what it had been leading to. Nothing to do with fond memories of the past. He wanted her at the farm with her father. Jim Neilson was a master calculator. Forget Jamie, she harshly berated herself. This was the real world.
He’d been lulling her into a friendly acceptance of him, recalling the old sense of togetherness. The quivery uncertainty seized her again. Was she still chasing a dream with this man, one that had no hope of ever coming true? Was she really prepared to take less in pursuing a need to know?
“I won’t be bought,” she stated flatly, her eyes flashing a proud warning.
He shook his head. “I wasn’t trying to buy you, Beth. Not yesterday or today. I was buying a chance.”
“You mean an option, don’t you?” She remembered his business. People skilled in trading took out options on things they might want.
“No. An option gives me the choice. It’s true I’ve tried to load the bases my way. But the choice is still yours, Beth.”
“Fine. Then I’ll choose when I’m ready to.” She would not move to his will.
He didn’t like it. “What’s stopping you?” he asked.
“I don’t want you taking anything for granted, Jim Neilson.”
He leaned forward, opening his hands in appeal. His eyes blazed with need, with almost chaotic desire, a turbulence of spirit that was infinitely disturbing. Beth tensed and moved away from him, wary of the powerful energy directed at her.
“I’m asking for another chance.” Passion swirled from his voice, enveloping her. “Come to the farm with your father. Let me show you another life, Beth. You can always walk away if you don’t like it, but let me show you. Will you do that?”
Her mind shrieked caution but her mouth opened and the word came out, drawn from some unguarded place in her soul. “Yes,” she heard herself say, and the wild leap of triumph in his eyes, the dazzling smile that erupted caused a weird sense of meltdown inside her, barriers dissolving, heat pumping through her veins, a dizzy feeling of time blurring, showing her a future where what had been impossibilities turned into possibilities.
He’d won, she thought. She’d let him win.
But might not she be winning, too?
A
NOTHER life.
Well, let it begin, Beth decided, and asked him to explain how he ran his business, what hours he worked, what staff he employed, what he actually did, Jim Neilson, this man she was committed to accepting as he was until the feelings they had were resolved.
She had a sketchy idea of his career from the articles she’d read about him. She knew it took nerve and enormous mental strength and agility to balance all the factors in his dealing on the money markets. Now she saw his joy in the game of pitting his judgment against others in the same ballpark, the sparkle in winning, the confidence that winning had given him.
And she saw and felt his pleasure in her interest, the desire to share his world with her, the hopeful reaching out to someone who had cared about him, wanting her to still care despite the mountain of time that had passed. The chance he’d bought. No, the chance he’d made with persistence and passion, refusing to accept defeat.
The chocolate and coffee soufflé came, sheer ambrosia melting in her mouth. For the first time she felt the romance of the restaurant, its appeal to all the senses, the subtle luxury of smoothly attentive but unobtrusive service, the softly inviting intimacy it engendered.
Another life
. The kind of life Jim Neilson could afford to provide. Seductive. But it wouldn’t last if the feelings didn’t hold true.
She watched his eyes, the windows of his soul. Was Jamie still in there? She willed him to come out. Fiercely. With all the need in her soul.
Jim Neilson stopped talking in mid-sentence. Beth had lost the drift of what he’d been saying, caught up in her private reverie, but she was instantly aware of his sudden silence, of his expression changing.
The eyes that had been dancing stilled, the lights in them swallowed up by a concentrated darkness that was mesmerising in its intensity, as though it led through a tunnel that ended in one of the black holes of the universe. Something stirred in that vast, dark emptiness. It rushed towards her, then was checked, but she sensed its presence, lying in wait, guarded by the will of a man who armoured himself against hurt.
Yes, Beth thought. The scars ran deep. But underneath them, if she could reach beyond them, if he decided to open up to her, there was a chance of getting back at least some of what had been lost. Trust had to work both ways.
“Am I boring you?” he asked.
“Not at all. It’s fascinating. I can’t help looking for parallels, Jim. I’m sorry if...”
He grinned. “Well, that’s an advance.”
“Pardon?” He was incredibly handsome with that rakish grin on his face, compellingly attractive.
“Jim is a lot friendlier than the rather pejorative Jim Neilson you’ve been using.”
“Oh!” Heat raced through her veins, blooming into hot patches on her cheeks. “I didn’t like you. It felt all wrong,” she confessed.
“I know. I hope to improve upon acquaintance,” he said dryly.
She laughed, self-consciously pleased he was prepared to dismiss the acrimony she had thrown at him.
He sat back and looked at her with happy eyes. “The Moscow State Circus is coming to Sydney soon. Would you like to go?”
“And see the flying trapeze and high wire acts?” It was what they used to talk about.
He immediately picked up on it. “They can’t possibly be as good as we were at swinging on ropes and walking the top palings of the fences, but we could check them out.”
“That would be fun,” she agreed.
It was so long since she had had any real fun. Frivolous, light-hearted fun. She hoped it was going to be possible, that the tension she felt with him would ease into a more relaxed relationship.
Coffee was served. It was accompanied by a plate of biscotti and a glass of Vin Santo, the waiter explaining this was a very delicate Italian dessert wine into which one dipped the biscuits. The final exquisite touch to a magnificent dinner, Beth thought appreciatively.
“How long do you think it will be before we can take up residency on the farm?” she asked, remembering why she had agreed to this dinner.
“Do you have a fax machine?”
“Yes.” It was handy to have one in the publishing business, allowing for fast correspondence when needed.
“I’ll get my solicitor working on the partnership papers tomorrow. All going well, he should be able to push everything through in a week.”
She was startled. A week! He wasn’t giving her time to have second thoughts, was her first reaction, igniting a spark of resentment. Didn’t he trust her to keep to her word?
Then she realised this was characteristic of him, making decisions and acting quickly on them. All the same, she didn’t have to move at his pace. She thought of how she worked, her mind in a dream, often forgetting mealtimes and other household chores, like leaving the laundered clothes in the washing machine for hours instead of remembering to transfer them to the dryer. Would he understand the weird ways of the creative process and make allowances for them?
“I thought properties usually took six weeks or so for the paperwork to get done,” she said, starting to consider the thousand and one things that would have to be done in closing up their lives in Melbourne.
“My solicitor is paid to be very efficient.”
Beth received the strong impression Jim Neilson didn’t tolerate inefficiency. Probably in his world he couldn’t afford to. He would want instant service, instant information, instant responses, and he would make sure he got what he paid for. She wondered how demanding he would be in his private life, what expectations he would have of her.
“Is a week too soon for you to move, Beth?” he asked. Then as though realising he might be pressuring her, quickly added. “Take whatever time you need.”
It was a daunting operation, saying goodbye to one life to start another. What would she be leaving behind? Her mother’s and Kevin’s graves were here. But their spirits were somewhere else. Some better place, she told herself. The rest of her family had gone. It was time to move on, anyway. Hadn’t she decided that, even before Jim Neilson had entered her life?
A line from Shakespeare’s
Macbeth
came back to her—“If it were done when ‘tis done, then ’twere well it were done quickly.”
“Dad will be eager to go,” she said out loud. Then decisively, “We’ll come as soon as everything’s organised.”
He looked pleased. “I’ll have a caravan on the property by next weekend. Or would you prefer to choose one yourself?”
She shook her head. “The caravan is only a temporary measure. It won’t be long before the house is habitable. Having it properly rewired is the first priority. Phone, fax, computer... I need them working.”
“I’ll line that up for you.”
And would be completely dependable about making such arrangements, Beth thought. If Jim Neilson said he was going to do something, it would get done. Jamie had been like that, too. No excuses. That was one of the reasons she had found it so difficult to accept his failure to keep his word about coming to her in Melbourne.
Sadness swept through her, all the years of unnecessary separation dragging at her heart. She hadn’t even known about that turning point in her life, hadn’t been given the chance to change Jamie’s mind about it. This was another turning point. To another life. If it didn’t work out as she hoped it would... Well, at least she would have tried.
“Something wrong, Beth?” Jim asked.
She heaved a sigh to relieve the constriction in her chest. “Just thinking how strange things are. I meant to say goodbye to you tonight.”
“I know.”
“And now I’m going back to the valley of our childhood. And you’ll be there, too, when you can be.” She eyed him consideringly. “Will it be a hardship for you, returning to those memories?”
“I have good memories, too. Of you, Beth,” he said softly.
“We’re not the same people,” she reminded him.
“No. But I see a chance that we’ll find what we were.”
Was that hope talking? She searched his eyes intently as she said, “They say one should never go back.”
“Maybe it’s necessary.”
He was determined on it, no matter what the outcome. She gave him a wry smile. “I guess we can only try.”
He nodded. “Otherwise we’ll never know.”
She felt his inner turmoil, too, the yearning, the questioning, the uncertainty, the need. Could they cross the barrier, of time and link hands again in trust and confidence and love?
“When are you flying back to Sydney?” she asked.
“First flight in the morning.”
“You’re staying overnight somewhere.”
He nodded. “The Hotel Como in South Yarra.”
She checked her watch. It was almost eleven-thirty. There was no more to settle between them. The die was cast. “We should get moving. You won’t get much sleep.”
He didn’t argue. He settled the bill with a credit card, undoubtedly adding lavish tips. The maître d’ asked if he wanted a taxi called. The decision was to see her to her car first.
It was something of a shock walking out of the warm magic of the restaurant to the bleak, impersonal coldness of Lonsdale Street. It was more of a shock when her hand was caught and held, strong, warm fingers lacing through hers in a grip that had no intention of losing possession. She didn’t try to pull away. It would have been a ridiculous rejection, given the far more intimate connections they had shared. Yet somehow this link was more meaningful, reforging the most childish physical link there was, holding hands. Beth was acutely conscious of it.
He paced his footsteps to match hers, walking beside her in a silence that seemed to hum with old memories of friendship and togetherness. The beat of their shoes on the pavement had an eerie echo of timelessness. Were they walking a new path or simply a different dimension of a path forged long ago?
They reached her car. His grip tightened slightly before letting go so she could extract her keys from her handbag. She was extremely conscious of him waiting beside her. A man, not a boy. A man whose strong sexuality had moved her into a deeper knowledge of her own. Those wild journeys with him raced through her mind as she unlocked the car and opened the driver’s door.
“I’m glad you came to see me, Beth.”
His voice was low, intense, furred with feelings she instantly recognised as physical as well as emotional. It drew her gaze to his, and their eyes locked in a steamy stream of unspoken desire.
“I’m glad, too,” she said. It was true. Honesty was important now. For trust there had to be honesty between them. And the truth was she didn’t want to leave him here in the street. She wanted... “It’s not far out of my way to your hotel. Would you like a lift?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
Am I mad
? she wondered as he settled on the seat beside her. In the closeness of the car she could smell his cologne. All her senses were heightened. One glance at his legs and she didn’t see the black fabric of his trousers. She saw the powerfully muscled thighs underneath it. Her heart was thundering in her ears.
Drive
, her mind commanded. Her hands obeyed, switching on the ignition. Her feet worked the pedals automatically. She tried to think with some modicum of common sense. Wouldn’t it be better to hold back, be more circumspect in pursuing this relationship with Jim Neilson? She already knew they were sexually compatible. It was their compatibility in other areas of their lives that had to be determined. But all her furious thinking did nothing to ease the fine tension of anticipation zinging through her body.
They travelled in silence. She didn’t even notice he made no attempt at conversation until they were driving down Chapel Street, almost at the hotel. Suddenly she realised he had to be thinking along the same lines she was. What conclusion had he come to? Would he effect a polite farewell or push for something more? If the latter, how should she respond?
She slowed the car to take the turn into the driveway that led to the entrance door of the hotel. Still no word from him. Through the glass frontage she saw the concierge paying attention to their arrival. She brought the car to a halt under the portico, leaving the engine idling. A lift was a lift. She hadn’t suggested anything more than that, yet her nerves were screaming for more.
He made no move to alight. His stillness goaded her to look at him. She constructed a smile. Her mind dictated the words
good night.
She turned her head and was totally swamped by the blaze of raw wanting in his eyes.
“Will you come up to my room with me, Beth?” he asked quietly, the control in his voice assuring her he would respect her reply, whichever way it went.
An invitation.
The choice was hers.
Would it be the same as before... or different?
The temptation to know was overwhelming.
“Yes,” she said huskily, and switched off the engine.

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