Dreaming Of... Australia: Mr Right at the Wrong Time / Imprisoned by a Vow / The Millionaire and the Maid

‘How much of that was thanks to big brother Sam?’

He thought about that. ‘We all pitched in and looked after each other. Dad worked pretty long hours so Mum needed support.’

‘Were you her favourite?’

‘There’s a loaded question.’ He laughed. ‘I felt like her favourite, but I’m sure every one of my siblings would say the same. Mum was good like that.’

‘Tell me about your parents. How did they meet?’

Sam took her through what he knew of the romance that was his parents’ marriage. Some of the challenges, the wins, the losses, their decision to come to Australia and start a new life.

‘Sounds almost idyllic.’

‘It wasn’t without its challenges, but my folks have worked their way through every major bump in their road to happiness. They’re great role models.’

‘How many of you are married?’ she asked.

He blinked. ‘Just me and one sister.’

‘Too hard to live up to for everyone else?’

His stomach tightened. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean your parents’ example. Pretty tough act to follow?’

He struggled against the automatic bristling that came when anyone criticised his family. She was just curious. And she wasn’t all that far off the mark, in truth. ‘I think we’d all consider it inspirational. Not demoralising.’

She watched him steadily. ‘That’s nice, then.’

‘Yeah, it is.’

‘Is that how it is for you?’

His chest matched the tightness in his gut. Here it comes. The subject neither of them was mentioning. ‘What?’

‘Your marriage. Do you aspire to a relationship as strong as your parents’?’

‘You’re assuming it’s not already like that?’ And that was a big call on just a few hours’ collective acquaintance in which the topic had almost never been raised. He couldn’t stop his arms folding across his front.

A hint of colour pinked her cheeks and highlighted the deep green of her eyes. It galled him that his body noticed that even when he was annoyed. He forced his hormones to heel.

‘You’re right. I am. Sorry. I just …’

But she swallowed back whatever she’d been about to say. So he called her on it: partly to see just how strong her reinforced spinal column really was, and partly because he wanted to see what had made her assume as she had. If he was giving off clues to strangers that his marriage wasn’t rock-solid, did that mean Mel might pick up on them, too?

‘Just what?’

A dozen expressions chased across her expressive eyes and finally resolved into caution. ‘She didn’t come. Today,’ she added when he just stared at her. ‘Today was a really big deal and she didn’t come. And I know that the complimentary air tickets were for two because I didn’t use my plus-one either.’

She had no one to bring. His antenna started vibrating with a bit too much interest at that piece of information and so he buried it under a landslide of hastily whipped up umbrage and forced his focus where it belonged. Defending Melissa was second nature.

‘She works. Hard.’

‘I know. You said.’ Then Aimee leaned forward and he got a flash of cream curve as her breasts rose and fell. ‘But so does your father, and I’m guessing he would have moved the earth to be there if it was your mother shaking the Governor General’s hand and being recognised by his country.’

A cold, twisted kind of ugly settled in his belly. It was sixty percent righteousness, forty percent guilt, and one hundred percent reflex. He’d had exactly those thoughts himself. ‘Are you offering me relationship advice? Seriously?’

His subtle emphasis on you didn’t escape her, and the hurt and disappointment in her expression were immediate. As if she’d been suspending breath, waiting for something to happen.

And he’d just been that something.

Shame bit—down low.

‘No.’ She smiled, but it was half-hearted and without the luminosity of before. ‘That would be like asking me to get you out of a stricken vehicle on a mountain. It’s just not in my skill set.’

He hated his own overreaction almost as much as how fast she was to put herself down when challenged. Both smacked of long-standing defensive tools. So her healing was still a work in progress, then.

She went on before he could. ‘But I do know something about people. And subtext. I’m trained to read between the lines.’

‘My relationship with Melissa is not fodder for your book,’ he stated flatly.

‘You think your wife is not material to your life story?’

He wiped his hands purely for the satisfaction of throwing his serviette down onto the table. The international symbol for this discussion is over. ‘I think if you want to include her then we should get her agreement.’

This was where a polite person would step back, oil the waters. Aimee just leaned forward. ‘You’re protective of her.’

‘Of course I am. She’s my wife.’

‘You love her.’

‘She’s my wife,’ he reiterated.

Her perfect face tipped. ‘Why are you so defensive?’

‘Why are you so pushy? Are you upset I didn’t tell you I was married? I met Melissa through one of my brothers, we were together two years and then we got married. End of story.’

Except that was complete bull. There was so much more to their story.

A hint more pink crept into her cheeks. Or was it just that the colour around it had faded? She leaned forward again, lowered her voice. ‘Why didn’t you mention her to me before? There were so many opportunities.’

A dangerously good question. Was it because he’d felt the simmering something between them in their perilous little nest on the mountainside and hadn’t wanted it to evaporate? Was he that desperate for a hint of attraction, even back then?

Uncertainty clenched, tight and unfamiliar, in his chest.

‘It was none of your business.’ Present tense included. How do you like that subtext?

Her face froze and her fists curled into nuggets on the table. She took a moment collecting herself. It reminded him of something …