And he was hurting, his friend lost, no matter the sacrifice he’d made, his scar a constant reminder.
Of course he would be hurting.
And she lay in her bed and ached for a man who wasn’t hers to ache for.
His hip ached. He rolled over in bed but his hip still ached. He lay on his back and still his hip ached. So in the end, sick of thrashing, he got out of bed and stood by the window in the living room. The cool air would soothe his scar, he told himself, his eyes glued to the flicker of light from the homestead across the vineyard.
She was over there. No doubt tucked up in bed and sleeping peacefully now that she’d finally rid herself of that pesky virgin status.
Now that he’d rid her of that pesky virgin status.
So what was his problem? Why couldn’t he sleep? He’d had the best sex he’d had for as long as he could remember. He should be sleeping like a baby.
Across the vineyard the light danced and shimmied in the cold night air, and if he didn’t know better, he’d think it was meant solely for him, the silent equivalent of the kookaburra’s laugh.
Because it hadn’t been just sex.
With Holly it had never been just about having sex.
Tonight they’d made love.
Air sucked through teeth and rushed into his lungs. How the hell had he let things go so wrong when he’d known the dangers all along? Why hadn’t she listened to him and stayed well away?
Why hadn’t he had the strength of will to resist her?
The lights of the homestead flickered gaily across the darkness, mocking him and mocking all the reasons he’d given her why they shouldn’t have sex.
Because he’d been her first.
Because she might become needy.
And yet here he was, standing at a window across a vineyard looking over to where she lay safely tucked up inside. Because when it came to Holly Purman, no matter what he knew or what he’d learned, he had no strength to resist her.
Who was the needy one now?
Which made the next few weeks hell unless he learned to stay away from her.
And the scar at his hip, knowing that was impossible, ached worse than ever.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
‘BUT, POP, YOU have to be there! You can’t miss it. This is your night, just as much as it is mine.’
‘I’d love to go, Holly,’ he said, and she could see the dampness in his eyes and the stoic way he kept the tears in check. ‘I wish I could go, but it’s my own bloody fault. If I hadn’t been trying to do too much and fallen over and buggered up all the good work the doctors had done I could go. But if the doctors tell me they won’t let me on a plane, then what choice do I have? I can’t go.’
‘I don’t want to go by myself.’
‘You have to. It’s your night. You’ll just have to get Franco to go with you.’
A weekend alone in Sydney with Franco. Franco hadn’t made so much as a move towards her since the night of the party, and Holly couldn’t pretend the idea wasn’t without appeal. ‘But, Pop …’
‘Don’t “But, Pop” me. I’ve seen the way you look at him, don’t think I haven’t. You like him, don’t you?’
She shrugged. ‘He’s … okay. It’s worked out better than I thought it would. Given he’s a Chatsfield, I mean.’
Gus chuckled. ‘Don’t lay it on too thick or I’ll change my mind. Are you glad now I didn’t let you throw him out on his ear that first day? You sure tried your hardest.’
Was she glad? Definitely in one way. Because she’d learned so much these past weeks from the perils of prejudging to the pleasures of the flesh. And she’d learned so much about herself into the deal.
Then again, maybe it would have been easier if he’d left that day and she’d never seen him again. Because thinking about watching him walk out of her life when the pruning was finished gave her a dull empty ache in her chest. She would miss him when he was gone.
‘I do feel better about the wine deal now.’ And that had nothing to do with Franco, for the Chatsfield siblings seemed to have kept themselves out of the scandal sheets for long enough that it looked like the wine deal may not be the disaster she’d first feared.
Besides, signing the deal meant there was always a chance of seeing Franco in the future.
She wasn’t needy. Truly she wasn’t, but she wouldn’t object if their paths were to cross again.
‘Go on then,’ Gus said, ‘take Franco to Sydney instead of me. Show him the sights and have some fun. And when you win, it might well be a good chance maybe to get some publicity about the deal.’
‘If I win, Pop.’
‘My money’s on you, my girl. That award is as good as yours.’