His Cousin's Wife

Of course her mind went straight to Niall’s revelations about the activity at the big white house. Joe Rosten, the owner and a friend of Alex’s father, would be nearing seventy years old now so he’d probably be retired. Maybe he intended returning to Byron Bay? This thought of course brought other disturbing considerations. Perhaps his only daughter would be accompanying him.

And his son-in-law.

‘Well, I’m not going to be involved in any protest march.’ David’s lowered voice drew Shea out of her reveries and she shifted in her seat, a little guilty that she had been so inattentive.

‘I’m sure it won’t come to that,’ she began, not having a clue about the subject of David’s frowning displeasure.

‘Perhaps that might be a little premature,’ suggested a deep voice from the back of the hall.

A tall, fair-haired man was striding towards the front, his long legs easily eating up the distance, trainer-clad feet silent on the dusty bare floorboards. He wore a pair of tight-fitting tailored blue jeans and an unadorned light sweatshirt, the sleeves pushed casually back along his forearms.

The harsh fluorescent light flashed on the gold watch on his left wrist and on the same hand, on his ring finger, he wore a gold signet ring.

All this Shea took in subconsciously. Her numbed body was apparently beyond reaction. If she had been alone and able to respond to the sound of that voice, the sight of that familiar, yet strangely unfamiliar face, she knew she would have dissolved into a shaking heap. Or simply fainted dead away. But she did neither.

Then the crowd seemed to part and their eyes met, steady coffee brown and startled sea green. And Shea’s heartbeats began to race.

CHAPTER TWO

HOW Shea wished she could sit quietly, alone, regain some semblance of composure, away from the so public backdrop of the crowded meeting hall. In those interminable seconds she felt as though her whole life flashed before her, with all its pleasure and pain, its achievements, and what she considered her failures.

She was a young child again in Brisbane, growing up in the warmth and security of her mother’s love and care. She was an orphaned twelve-year-old travelling south to Byron Bay to begin a new life with Norah Finlay, a godmother she scarcely knew. She was being thrust into the unfamiliar family circle of Norah and her son, Jamie. And Norah’s nephew, Alex.

She remembered vividly the moment when she met Alex Finlay. It was etched in her mind with a clarity that easily overshadowed her arrival in the picturesque little coastal town of Byron Bay and her re-acquaintance with Norah and Jamie. And apparently her memories of her first sight of him could still unsettle her.

She had been living with Norah and her fifteen-year-old son, Jamie, for just a week when Norah’s nephew arrived home from a school excursion to Canberra, the nation’s capital. However, in that week of his absence Alex Finlay’s reputation had preceded him.

Norah quite obviously adored him and if all Jamie said was true, then his sixteen-year-old cousin had to be some sort of god. Alex was, academically, dux of the school. Alex was outstanding on the sports field. Alex was, well, Alex was everything to everybody.

He lived, Shea was told, with his widowed father in a cottage down the road from Norah’s home. Alex’s father and Jamie’s late father were brothers and, according to Jamie, Alex was more like a brother to him than a mere cousin.

And Shea reflected in those days before she met Alex that it was a fair indication of Jamie’s character that he showed not the slightest bit of envy for this so perfect cousin.

Alex came down to visit as soon as he arrived back from Canberra. Jamie had said Alex didn’t seem to get on all that well with his father. And later Shea also found Donald Finlay to be a cool, morose sort of man, certainly not the kind of person to encourage anyone to come too close to him, including his own son.

So Alex arrived.

Shea was in her room nervously preparing her text books for her first day at her new school next day when she heard the sound of welcoming voices from the living room. Moments later there was a tap on her wall and Jamie poked a smiling face around the open door to tell her Alex was here and that she must come and meet him.

And she went. Reluctantly. Not only was she basically a little shy when encountering anyone new but she was also just slightly disinclined to be meeting someone so revered by her new family. What if Alex Finlay, universally acknowledged as being so perfect, was a big-headed, arrogant, pain-in-the-neck? She supposed she’d simply have to pretend to like him, for Norah’s and Jamie’s sakes.

She walked into the living room behind Jamie and there he was.

His fair hair was an overly long mass of loose, unruly curls, the ends bleached white by the sun. And his eyes were dark, fringed by even darker lashes. Later she discovered his eyes were brown, light tan in the bright sunlight and when he laughed, deepening to dark chocolate when he was passionate about something. Or someone. In that moment she knew unconsciously that his tanned, handsome face held more than a hint of manhood.

Other frightening sensations were warring inside her. She suddenly felt absolutely aware of herself. She was conscious she was almost as tall as Jamie who was three years older than she was. Her legs seemed too long, her body too thin, her hair too nondescript. And she knew a burning urge to be older than she was.

Alex unwound himself from the chair as Shea entered and her legs were suddenly unaccountably rubbery. His shoulders were square beneath his loose T-shirt, and his faded, threadbare jeans accentuated his long legs and narrow hips.

‘Shea, this is my cousin, Alex Finlay,’ Jamie said with obvious pleasure. ‘Alex, meet Shea Stanley, who’s now my unofficial sister.’

‘Shea’s mother and I were the best of friends since our schooldays,’ Norah was explaining. ‘Even though we lived in different states we’ve always kept in touch.’

As Shea’s eyes moved over him, taking in each feature, his gaze was making its own exploration of her. Until their eyes met, held, passed an earth-shattering message.

That was the moment she’d fallen in love with him. It had been as simple as that. They had looked at each other and the earth had seemed to tilt vertiginously.

She could remember a multitude of incidents over the years but that first electric moment when she was twelve and he was a so grown up sixteen would remain vividly in her memory till the day she died. She’d wanted to run to him and from him all at once.

She’d also known Alex felt exactly as she did, while Jamie’s half-rueful glance had told Shea he suspected as much as well.

So here they were sixteen years later. Face to face. And so much had happened between then and now. Between innocence and experience. But their wonderful beginning had ended on that cool autumn night eleven years ago. Eleven years. She hadn’t seen him since. And now...

Her shocked gaze registered the change in him, sent the messages to that section in the deep recesses of her mind that she knew had stored away every memory of him. She could have been that same lanky child-woman if her present reaction to him was any indication. And her response to his sudden appearance filled her with overwhelming horror. She would have to admit it was a far cry from just uncomplicated surprise at his unexpected and unheralded arrival.

The noise of the meeting abated and the crowd faded into the background as their eyes met for those immeasurable seconds.

After his momentary pause he passed her, was moving up to the table at the front of the meeting, holding out his hand to Rob, the chairman.

‘Rob Jones. Remember me? Alex Finlay.’

Recognition dawned on the older man and he grinned a welcome. ‘Well now, Alex Finlay. After all these years. How could I forget that winning try in the footy final? We haven’t won a premiership since you retired.’

A few others joined them, took turns in shaking Alex’s hand, slapping him on the back, welcoming home one of the township’s more successful sons.

And Shea sank slowly down onto her chair, knowing all she had feared had come to be. The very person who had taken her young life and turned it upside down had returned to up-end her ordered world. She’d hoped never to see him again.

‘Who is he?’ David subsided onto his seat beside her. ‘Do you know him, Shea? Everyone else seems to. Finlay?’ His eyebrows went up and he turned sharply to face her. ‘Not any relation, is he?’

Shea swallowed the hysterical laugh that threatened to burst from her. ‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘No. Not really. A sort of cousin. By marriage.’

‘Oh.’ David continued to look at her questioningly and she swallowed to clear her dry throat.

‘He was related to Jamie, my late husband.’

‘I see. I take it this Alex Finlay’s been away.’

‘Yes. He left Byron Bay, before Jamie and I were married, actually.’

‘Oh. That would be years ago. It’s a wonder you recognised him if you haven’t seen him since then.’

Pain twisted inside Shea, clutching at her heart. And she wasn’t ready to see him tonight. Not tonight or any night.

See him! She mocked herself disparagingly. See him! She didn’t have to see him. She knew exactly what he looked like, would have known him anywhere, no matter how many years came between. How could she forget? She knew every hair, every inch of firm muscle, every secret responsive...

Shea drew a deep, steadying breath. She had to stop this, stop torturing herself.

‘Has he changed much?’ David was asking.

‘He looks a little older,’ she said off-handedly.

David’s smile held a hint of smugness. ‘A bit longer in the tooth?’

But he’s not old. Shea clamped her lips tightly closed before the words came out. He’s only thirty-two. Four years older than she was. Eleven years older than he was when she last saw him. Panic rose inside her. When she last saw him. No! She wouldn’t think about that. She mustn’t.

‘Aren’t we all,’ she said flatly as Rob Jones called for order and introduced Alex to the meeting.

Alex took the floor and Shea tried valiantly to concentrate on what he was saying, but the sound of his voice took painful precedence. Somewhere her mind heard him talking about deputations to the council, community petitions. Yet her other more perfidious senses clamoured for attention, wanted to luxuriate in the purely sybaritic excitement that was for Shea so atypically physical.

Various members of the crowd put questions to Alex until Rob glanced at his watch.

‘Time’s getting on so I think we’d better call this meeting closed. We’ll advertise the date and time of the next meeting in the usual way. And in the meantime we’ll take Alex’s advice and I’ll be carrying our continued concerns to the council meeting tomorrow night. See you all next time.’

People began to file out of the hall and Shea stood up quickly. If she hurried she’d manage to escape before Alex had a chance to approach her. Should he want to, that was, she told herself derisively.

But David was blocking her exit and for once she felt irritated by his gentlemanly consideration as he stood back to allow a group of elderly people to precede him. At long last he stepped into the aisle and turned to see that she was following him.

‘Shea.’

She had barely taken two steps when the deep voice behind her saying her name stopped her dead in her tracks. It seemed Alex did want to approach her and she’d left leaving too long. Once again, she conceded bitterly, she’d underestimated his ability to get what he wanted.

How she wished she could ignore him, move on, leave the building and pretend she hadn’t heard him, but David had already paused beside her.

‘Shea,’ Alex repeated, and she made herself turn slowly to face him.

She allowed her eyes to meet his again, and the pain it brought her was worse, so very much worse than she ever imagined it would be. It was an agony just to look at the long, tall, tanned length of him. He was standing so close she could have put out her hand and touched him...

How she’d loved him! And she couldn’t stop some part of. her reassessing him, adding the new details to her previous cache of graphic memories.

His hair, darker now, and much shorter than he used to wear it. But she remembered how thick and vital it was. She could almost feel it now. Hadn’t she run her fingers through it as she pulled his mouth back to hers?

His eyes, dark lashes now shielding the expression in their deep brown depths. They’d reminded her of smooth chocolate as he gazed down at her with passionate intensity.

His features, totally masculine, square-jawed and craggy. She knew deep creases crept into his cheeks, bracketing his mouth when he laughed.

And his lips. How his lips used to drive her crazy, bring her right to the very edge of her control. And beyond. So far beyond.

Shea forced herself to concentrate on the present. Alex Finlay now.

Yes, he’d changed. He did look older. But then so did she, she knew. Any vestige of youth that had remained when she’d last seen him had gone. The harder planes of his face made him look older than his thirty-two years.

Yet it wasn’t age so much, part of her reflected almost unemotionally. He had the look of a man who had been pushing himself too hard for too long. The bright light she remembered that sparkled in his brown eyes had gone, as though some inner part of him had died.

But she was being fanciful, surely. He was just as attractive, as tall, as broad, as potently masculine.

His light sweatshirt moulded his well-developed shoulders and his dark denim jeans were hugging his muscular thighs. Shea’s mouth went dry and she raised her eyes guiltily from that part of his body to find his gaze resting guardedly upon her.

‘How are you, Shea?’ he asked softly, his deep voice playing over her like a mellow melody, so effortlessly familiar, arousing her with horrifyingly well-remembered ease.

She shrugged in acknowledgement of his polite enquiry, and she found herself fighting an impulse to pat an imaginary escaped tendril of fair hair back into her loose chignon. Speech at that moment was an impossibility as her heartbeats thundered in her dry throat.

The studied expressionlessness on his face gave her no insight into his thoughts but she just as suddenly sensed that perhaps he may not have approached her had it not been for good manners and family propriety. It would have looked strange if he didn’t speak to his only cousin’s wife.

And what had she expected? she asked herself angrily. Did she think he’d go down on his knees and beg forgiveness? That his eyes would burn again with that same all-consuming passion?

Fantasy, Shea Finlay, she chided. Pure fantasy. Well, his so obvious feeling of antipathy was most definitely mutual. Her stony coldness told him so.

Yet inside she was a mass of contradictory sensations.

‘I had every intention of calling in to see Norah this afternoon,’ Alex was continuing evenly, ‘but I was held up at the house. I didn’t expect you’d be here at this meeting.’

‘I attend all of these meetings,’ she told him with a faint lift of her firm chin, guiltily shoving aside the knowledge that her attention tonight had rarely been on the business at hand. ‘I’m concerned about the future of the town.’

He nodded. ‘More people should be.’

David chose that moment to cough softly beside Shea, moving closer to her, his hand going to her elbow, and Alex’s eyes narrowed on the solicitous gesture.

‘This is David Aston.’ Shea reluctantly made the introductions. ‘He works for the major real estate agency here in town. David, meet Alex Finlay.’

David released her arm and held out his hand. ‘Shea tells me you’re her long lost cousin.’

Alex’s dark eyebrows rose imperiously as he slowly took David’s extended hand. ‘Cousins by marriage. We’re not blood relations.’

Something in his tone made David shift self-consciously and he turned back to Shea. ‘Well, shall we go?’

‘I’d like to talk to you, Shea,’ Alex said, pointedly ignoring the younger man, and Shea glanced irritatedly at the time.

‘It’s late.’

‘Not too late,’ he cut in determinedly. ‘I’ll drive you home.’

‘Shea came with me,’ David stated, obviously piqued by the turn of events.

‘I’m sure you won’t mind this time, mate.’ Alex produced his practiced, disarming smile, which Shea noticed didn’t quite reach his eyes. ‘I want to see Norah so it seems I can save you the trouble of dropping Shea off. I go that way anyhow.’

David drew himself up to his full height, a few inches shorter than Alex, and was about to argue the point. Somehow, Shea knew he would come off second best to this older, so sure of himself Alex, and she put her hand apologetically on the young man’s arm.

‘It’s all right, David. I’ll go with Alex this time. But thank you for giving me a lift to the meeting.’

David’s chin jutted belligerently but he relented and, with a curt goodnight, he reminded Shea he would be seeing her tomorrow and walked away, leaving Shea with Alex.

‘Shall we go, too?’ he suggested, motioning for Shea to precede him to the door and she could only do as he bade her.

Appearances must be kept, she taunted herself disparagingly as she strode through the doorway and down the loose wooden stairs. And Alex was right behind her. She could feel him with every step she took.

Shea quickened her pace, but once around the corner and into the parking lot she paused, looking about the semi-lit area for a car that Alex might be likely to be driving.

Her breathing was shallow and she made herself move forward again until she put her hand shakily on the solidness of the first car she came to, as though the familiarity of its cool metal would help her keep a hold on her composure.

His footsteps crunched loudly on the gravel as he caught up to her and her sensitised nerve endings vibrated until she could almost physically feel the touch of his body as he drew closer to her.

He hesitated then, too, and in the cacophonous silence that swelled about them Shea felt her heartbeats accelerate until the sound of them rose to almost deafen her. And then he moved around her so tense body to unlock the front passenger door for her. He stood back just as the lights of another departing vehicle flashed over them, illuminating the dark and gleaming duco of a low-slung Jaguar XJS.

Her lips twisted wryly. Alex had always wanted a Jag. It had been his teenage dream. Now he had one and his dream had become reality. It was a pity, she thought caustically, that he’d had to sell himself to get it.

As she moved jerkily forward his hand went to her elbow in an unconscious gesture of assistance. That fleeting touch burned Shea’s skin and she drew a quivering breath as she all but fell into the seat in her haste to break that scorching contact. And then he was striding around the front of the car to slide into the driver’s seat beside her.

Moistening her dry lips with her tongue tip Shea admonished herself as the silence screamed. Say something! Anything! She had to make an effort at mundane conversation, not sit there like a stuffed dummy. She had to show him how little his return meant to her. She had to be cool, civilised, unperturbed.

Unperturbed? She bit back a laugh. Somehow she didn’t think a racing pulse, a tightness in the chest and paralysed vocal chords were exactly the most common signs of composure.

It was a caustic, unpalatable pill to have to swallow, that Alex Finlay still had the power after all these years, after all he’d done to her, to scatter those hard-won remnants of self-possession to the four winds.

And Alex seemed just as loathe to make an attempt at conversation. Glancing sideways at him Shea was unable to read anything into his shadowed features. The tilt of his chin, the line of his square jaw, only brought back aching memories and her. fingers balled into fists, nails biting into her palms.

The heavy seconds stretched into a couple of interminable minutes that seemed like hours and the silence grew impossibly heavier. Now Shea felt instinctively that he was watching her. The electric tension sparked between them, flaming, growing, until Shea thought she could bear it no longer. Then he spoke.

CHAPTER THREE

‘HOW’VE you been, Shea?’ he asked huskily.

How did he think she’d been? she wanted to scream at him. Did he imagine a broken heart was fatal? Did he think she’d fallen apart, so far apart that she’d never be able to pick up the pieces? Well, she hadn’t. She very nearly had. But the pieces had been back in place long ago, super-glued, and she’d never let anyone do what he did to her again. Not ever.

‘I’m fine.’ She shrugged, her voice only slightly constricted.

‘You look,’ Alex paused, ‘great,’ he finished and Shea thought she sensed a tightness in his deep voice.

She must have been mistaken, she decided, for if she wasn’t—Shea swallowed quickly, cutting off the entry into that small part inside her that she suspected would begin to tremble with excitement, would threaten to race madly, wildly away. No. She had to keep herself under firm control and not allow the fascination of the old Alex Finlay to tempt her.

‘Thank you,’ she replied tritely, and continued when she realised her voice sounded almost steady. ‘Let’s just say the years seem to have been kind to both of us.’

Alex made no comment on that but Shea noticed his hands clenched on the steering wheel for a moment before he reached out to switch on the ignition. He put the Jag into gear and pulled out of the parking lot, the scrunching of the gravel beneath the wide tyres easily drowning out the low purr of the engine.

‘So, what are you doing these days?’ he asked as they turned onto the bitumen roadway. ‘My father told me you own your own business.’

‘Yes.’ The monosyllable sounded harsh and she took a quick, steadying breath. She had to be cool. Aloof. He meant nothing to her anymore. ‘Yes, I have my own fashion boutique.’

They were being so very civilised. Shea barely suppressed a bitter laugh. Good manners were reflected in polite conversation. They’d both been well taught.

‘I design and make my own range of clothing,’ she added with continued decorum.

‘I can’t say I’m surprised. You always were interested in that sort of thing.’

No! a voice inside her threw at him angrily. Don’t talk about always. Don’t dare talk about that. He, of all people, had no right to do that.

She clutched at her slipping composure and fixed her gaze on the dark outlines of the trees beyond the road, not really seeing their shadowy shapes. But the murkiness of night seemed synonymous with what had happened back then.

Silence extended between them again and Alex sighed. Shea was unable to prevent herself from looking at him then and, for fleeting seconds before his attention returned to the road, his eyes met and held hers in the semi-dark cocoon of the car’s cabin.

‘How’s your business going? Are you doing well?’ he asked and she had to consciously drag her concentration back to the theme of their conversation.

‘Quite well,’ she replied, suppressing the urge to tell him she had succeeded beyond her wildest dreams, that her business last year had trebled, that this year she’d extended her premises and, with the new children’s range under way, she’d definitely need to relocate her factory into larger space.

‘Where’s your shop?’ Alex was asking.

‘Where the old café used to be, up from the pub on the corner. The shop next door recently became vacant so I extended and combined the two.’ Her voice died away.

‘Have you been there long?’

‘About eight years. I started out on a small scale working from home, then tried the markets. Luckily it’s gone ahead from there.’

Why was she telling him all this when she had no desire whatsoever to inform or impress him?