When Only Diamonds Will Do

‘Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it. It’s not cheap so I insist on paying for my dinner. Actually, I’d like to pay for yours too!’

As a way of cutting me down to size? Reith wondered. As a way of being a Theron and making others aware that they’re not quite in the same class?

‘As a way of saying thank-you for the lift today and for lending me money for flowers and suggesting dinner,’ Kim murmured.

Their gazes clashed.

Had she read his mind? he wondered, then became aware of a resolve forming within him that he didn’t think he’d be able to ignore—he wanted this girl in his bed; he wanted to find out how she liked being made love to, whether she was still a Theron to her fingertips when she was hot and excited and writhing beneath him.

‘Do you surf?’

They were out in the cooling night air, strolling towards the car park, when Reith asked the question.

‘Of course,’ Kim said without hesitation.

‘Of course?’ he queried, glancing down at her with some irony.

She paused and looked up. She wasn’t short, five feet six, plus her wedges tonight, which meant he had to be well over six feet, and a little frisson ran through her because he was not only tall but beautifully proportioned …

But why that look of irony? she wondered.

‘Have I said something wrong?’

He took her hand and swung it. ‘No, I suppose not.’

‘Now come on, tell me,’ she insisted.

He stopped walking and turned her to face him but it was a long moment before he replied. In fact as his gaze roamed up and down her figure then lingered ruefully on her legs, Kim experienced another frisson but this one seemed to sizzle between them.

Then he shrugged and said, ‘It’s just that I get the feeling you do everything well—ride, swim, surf, play tennis, play the piano, draw or paint, speak fluent—something or other and—’

‘Stop!’ She held up her free hand. ‘You’re having a go at me, aren’t you? You still think I’m rich and idle, despite the fact that I work.’

He rubbed his jaw reflectively. ‘Not idle, no, but for the rest of it, you have the sort of assurance that leads one to suspect you of attending a good finishing school. Do you do any of those things?’

‘I …’ Kim closed her mouth and shrugged resignedly. ‘I do swim and surf. I ride. I don’t play the piano but I do play the harp, I do play tennis, I do speak fluent Spanish—but I do not draw or paint!’ she finished triumphantly. ‘Mind you, I have a good eye for art,’ she confessed. ‘But, tell me this, what’s it all got to do with surfing?’

‘Should we go down to Margaret River for a surf tomorrow?’ He paused. ‘The weather forecast is good and the swell is up.’

Kim’s lips parted and her eyes lit up. ‘I can think of nothing nicer, Mr—what is your name?’

His eyes narrowed for no reason she could detect. ‘Richardson,’ he said and waited a moment. ‘Reith Richardson.’

‘Well, Mr Richardson, I’d love to! I haven’t surfed for a while.’

‘And you can just take off from your teaching job when and wherever?’ he queried.

‘Oh, no, but I have time off at the moment. I did some overtime in the boarding house.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘Where shall we meet?’

‘Would you mind driving down to Busselton?’

‘No-o,’ Kim said slowly.

He swung her hand. ‘I have a very early appointment down there—it would save me driving back. We can go on in one car.’

‘Sure,’ she said easily.

He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles.

Kim swallowed as a tremor of pure physical attraction towards this tall, dark, rugged stranger ran through her. But he didn’t feel like a stranger any more, although she didn’t know much more about him than she’d known earlier in the day.

Well, she knew he preferred steak to lobster, beer to champagne, that his hands were clean and scrubbed but scarred and callused as if he’d done plenty of physical work at some time or another. Yet he sounded educated and well-read.

He released her hand as they reached her car. ‘Try not to lure any more men to their doom against large, immovable objects, Miss Theron,’ he advised as she unlocked the driver’s door.

She laughed, ‘I won’t!’

‘Oh, and this.’ He took her purse from her and tucked her hundred-dollar note into it.

‘But—’

‘I’d like to pay for the flowers, that’s all. Goodnight.’

‘You know—’ Kim stared up at him ‘—I’ve got the feeling you’re quite addicted to getting your own way.’

‘I have been accused of that, yes,’ he agreed gravely. ‘It’s nonsense, of course.’ He paused. ‘On the other hand, we could be two of a kind.’

‘Do you think so?’ Kim asked wryly. ‘That could make for some uncomfortable times between us, assuming we last any kind of distance. Goodnight.’

His lips twitched. ‘It could. Yes, it could. Goodnight.’

Kim drove home in a thoughtful mood.

The moon was silvering the familiar landscape, so it wasn’t familiar any more but an exotic surround with secretive dark patches.

Of course, she knew it off by heart but, thinking of how secretive and unknown in the moonlight it looked now, her thoughts took off down another path. Was she entering an unknown period of her life?

How could she be as affected as she was by a man she’d only just met? There was no doubt he sent shivers down her spine—shivers of pleasure. One light kiss on her knuckles had not only raised goose bumps for her but it had caused her to warm to him as if they could be friends who cared for each other.

Or was that being extremely fanciful? she asked herself as she swung into the driveway of the estate called Saldanha, the place she had always called home.

Set against the background of the Darling Range foothills, Saldanha was special. The Harvey and Margaret River districts south of Perth in Western Australia were beautiful and diverse, with their white beaches, jarrah forests, sleek cattle and the sheer fertility that produced glorious gardens. And adjacent to Saldanha was the Balthazar Winery, also owned by her parents—the other, and probably most famous, export of the area that grew premium grapes was wine.

Both Saldanha and Balthazar—a Balthazar was a twelve-litre wine bottle—were the names brought by the Theron family, of Huguenot descent, from South Africa to the similar conditions and climate around Perth. The Theron family had also brought their viticulture skills and the Balthazar Winery had flourished. At the same time Saldanha, named after a sheltered bay north of Cape Town, had flourished and the Cape Dutch–style architecture of the house, white gables and a thatched roof, had become distinctive in the district.

So had the classic dry white that Balthazar was famous for as well as its Cellar Door, run on the estate and visited by wine-lovers from all over the world.

It was none of this Kim Theron was thinking of as she parked her car, greeted her dog, a devoted blue heeler that went by the name of Sunny Bob, and let herself into the darkened house.