She tried a different tack. ‘No offence, but I know for a fact that Felice is twenty-two. You don’t exactly look…’ She trailed off with what she hoped was delicate tact.

A glimmer of a smile appeared in the grey eyes. ‘I’m ten years older than Felice.’

Kelly set their coffees in front of them. ‘Thank you,’ Kate murmured, and although she sensed Simon was immersed in thoughts of Felice, he still roused himself to send Kelly a smile of thanks that put a spring in the other woman’s step.

It was a nice thing to do.

She had a feeling that, beneath all his bristling worry and concern, Simon Morton-Blake was a nice man.

‘Ten years is a pretty big age gap between siblings,’ she observed.

‘It is,’ he agreed.

He took a sip of his coffee. Frown lines marred the perfection of his face. He took a second sip and Kate wondered if he even tasted it. Kelly did the best coffee on the bay, but it looked as if great coffee was wasted on the seventh Lord of Holm today.

‘Felice has always been too reckless and irresponsible.’ He glanced up and speared her with his clear grey gaze. ‘What did Kelly mean when she said Felice was the hit of the summer?’

‘That she was popular, fun. That everyone liked her.’

His mouth grew grim. ‘That’s what I was afraid of.’

She wanted to ask why, but she bit her tongue. Beneath the table she selected Felice’s number on her mobile, then brought the phone to her ear. Simon’s eyes narrowed in on the phone in the space of a heartbeat. ‘She was neither reckless nor irresponsible working for me.’ Kate crossed her legs and waited for Felice to answer. ‘In fact, she was a great worker.’

He nearly dropped his coffee. ‘Felice?’

‘Hey, it’s me,’ Kate said when Felice answered.

‘Hey, what’s up?’

‘Sorry to call when—’ she shot a glance at Simon ‘—you’re holidaying, but you’ll never guess who has shown up. I have the seventh Lord of Holm sitting across from me as we speak.’

Dead silence greeted her pronouncement. It did nothing to allay her unease. ‘Felice?’

‘Simon? Simon is there?’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘What have you told him?’

Felice’s shriek nearly deafened her. She wondered if Simon could hear it from the other side of the table. He moved as if he might try and take the phone from her. Kate shifted so he couldn’t. ‘Nothing. Why?’

‘You don’t understand!’

‘Obviously not.’

Simon stared at her as if he couldn’t believe she had his little sister on the other end of the line. He stared at her as if he wanted to hug her. As if he wanted to kiss her in gratitude like she’d kissed that folder. All because she’d rung his little sister. Had he thought she’d leave him to stew in all that worry and concern he’d done his best to hide but couldn’t?

‘He will ruin everything!’

For some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to believe that.

‘Please, please, please, Kate. Promise me you won’t tell him where I am.’

‘I can hardly do that when I don’t precisely know where you are myself.’

‘You can’t tell him I’ve married Danny!’

Kate bit her lip. Simon narrowed in on the action and Kate recognised the flare of desire that burst to life in his eyes. She did her best to un-bite it, but it was too late. Blood started fizzing through her veins and her mind filled with images in instant response.

Oh, stop it! He was a tourist. She didn’t mess with tourists. She shook herself and forced her mind to focus on her conversation with Felice.

‘Kate, promise me you won’t tell him I’m married.’

Oh, dear. ‘I…er…was hoping you’d do that.’ She didn’t want to be the one to tell Simon his sister had eloped. Amazingly, her voice was steady. Unlike her pulse.

‘I will. I swear I will. I’ll tell him I’m married just as soon as we get back.’

In a fortnight!

‘I can just see him.’ Scorn dripped from Felice’s voice. ‘He’ll be sitting there with a frown creasing up his forehead, his chin jutting out, and he’ll be drumming his fingers, just waiting for me to prove that I’ve done something stupid.’

Her description was so spot on that Kate had to voice her growing fear. ‘Have you?’

‘See?’ Felice shrieked her outrage. ‘He’s got to you already.’

Kate didn’t need to see Felice to know exactly how she’d just thrown her arm in the air or how she’d turned away only to swing back again. She put on her best employer’s voice. Her boss’s voice. ‘Just answer the question, Felice.’

‘God! You make a good pair, you know that?’

Kate shot Simon a grin. He didn’t smile back. Kate pointed to the phone. ‘She just said we make a good pair.’

He grinned at that.

‘He really is just right there, isn’t he?’ Felice said.

‘Yep.’

‘I haven’t made a mistake, Kate.’

The panic left Felice’s voice. Kate blinked, averting her gaze from Simon and his body, with all its intriguing distractions and temptations.

‘I love Danny.’ Felice’s sincerity rang out in the quietness of her tone, and in the simplicity of her claim. ‘Marrying Danny is the one good thing I’ve managed to do with my life.’

‘Okay, okay.’ Kate nodded although she knew Felice couldn’t see her. ‘But will you at least do one thing for me? Will you speak to Simon and tell him you’re fine?’

‘I don’t want to speak to him.’

Kate had never heard that stubborn note in Felice’s voice before. ‘Please?’ She held her breath.

‘He’ll make me hang up on him,’ Felice warned.

She let out her breath. ‘Nevertheless…’

‘Will you promise to call me back when he’s not watching over you like a guard dog?’

It was another apt description.

‘Please, Kate?’

She bit back a sigh. ‘Deal,’ she said. Then she handed the phone across to Simon. ‘Be nice,’ she ordered.

He held it to his ear. ‘Felice? Thank God! Are you all right?’ He listened for a moment and his brow darkened. ‘What the hell are you playing at? I’ve—’

He broke off and held the phone away from his ear. Kate wanted to tell him he wasn’t doing a very good job at being nice.

He slammed the phone back to his ear. ‘I’ve been out of my wits with worry!’ His teeth clenched for a moment. ‘Out with it, then,’ he ordered, unclenching said teeth. ‘What kind of trouble have you managed to get yourself into this time?’

In fact, he was doing a really bad job of being nice. She had a sudden flash of empathy for Felice. Felice, who was so full of life and laughter…and love.

‘What do you mean, it’s none of my business? I—’

Kate took a sip of her coffee and watched him. He had that over-protective big brother thing down pat. She wondered if she’d ever smothered Danny like that.

There was only five years’ difference between her and Danny, though. There was ten years between Simon and Felice. Ten years. That was a lot.

‘Then why the hell haven’t you called?’

She set her coffee back down at that. Good question.

‘You could’ve at least had the common decency—’

His free hand—the one not holding the phone—curved into a fist. ‘Of course it’s my business. I—’

The fist started to bounce on the table. ‘That’s rubbish and you know it. I—’

He broke off to stare at the phone. He shook it, then put it back to his ear. ‘Hello?’ Then he turned to Kate. ‘She hung up on me.’

‘Of course she did.’ Kate reached across and plucked her mobile from his fingers. ‘I don’t blame her.’

He scowled. ‘You don’t—’

‘I told you to be nice. You weren’t nice. You were bossy and…stuffy.’

He scowled some more. Then he slumped back in his chair, defeat outlined in the shape of his shoulders. ‘Where is she? I’m not leaving Australia until I at least clap eyes on her.’

‘Oh, right,’ Kate mocked gently. ‘Are you trying to tell me you’ll be happy to see her in the distance, see that she’s all in one piece and then leave again? I don’t think so. You’re itching to haul her over the coals for some imagined misdemeanour. For heaven’s sake, she’s twenty-two years old. Old enough to make her own decisions. Old enough to lead her own life.’

‘You don’t know her.’ He drained his coffee in one gulp.

‘I beg to differ. She’s just spent the last three months living in my house, working for my business.’

His brows drew down low over his eyes. The corners of his mouth tightened. ‘You don’t know her like I do.’

‘I’ll grant you that. But you’ve got to stop treating her like she’s twelve years old or you’ll turn around one day and find out she really has done something stupid.’

His head swung up. ‘Like what?’

‘I don’t know.’ She lifted a hand and tried to pluck an example from the air. ‘Like getting in with some hard and fast party crowd and taking recreational drugs or something. Just so she can prove to you she’s all grown up.’

Panic raced across his face. She rushed to reassure him. ‘Not that she has, you understand. I’ve never seen Felice take anything stronger than a glass of Chardonnay.’

He slumped back.

‘But if you don’t back off you could drive her to something awful and then, when she really needs you, she may not feel able to come to you.’

He dragged a hand down his face. ‘The voice of experience speaketh?’ he finally intoned. ‘She said we made a good pair, didn’t she?’

‘Accused, more like.’ Kate traced a finger around the rim of her coffee mug, gathered up coffee froth and popped it in her mouth. Simon’s eyes narrowed as he watched her and she hastily pulled the finger away and clutched it in her lap. ‘My father died eight years ago when I was twenty. My brother Danny was only fifteen.’

‘Your mother?’

‘She left when I was six.’

‘So, basically, you raised your brother.’

It didn’t sound like a question so she didn’t bother answering it. ‘Danny and I have had our moments, but he’s only five years younger than me. It has probably been easier for me to accept that he’s grown up and capable of making his own decisions.’

‘Plus he’s male. Men can look after themselves.’

‘That’s a particularly sexist view of the world.’

He shrugged, then leaned forward. ‘Do you know how much Felice is worth? How much she’ll inherit when she turns twenty-five?’

He named a sum that had her choking, ‘What?’

He sat back and glared. ‘So you can see why I’m concerned she doesn’t do something stupid.’

‘Like?’

His mouth grew grim. ‘There’s a lot of men out there who’d like to get hold of her fortune. I won’t let her marry a fortune hunter.’

And then it all made crystal-clear sense to Kate—why Felice hadn’t told them about her family, her fortune. She’d wanted them to love her for herself. Kate suddenly wanted to cry. She hoped Felice realised that they did love her for herself.

Something else struck her with equal force. When Simon heard about Felice’s marriage to Danny, he would not share their—or her—joy.

He may well go ballistic.

He may well say unforgivable things.

Kate wanted to drop her head to the table and groan, but Simon was watching her with that direct grey gaze, so she couldn’t.

‘Where is she?’

The question didn’t surprise her. She lifted her mug and drank the last of her coffee. This time she didn’t taste it either. ‘I don’t know.’ She set the mug back on the table.

‘I don’t believe you.’

‘That can’t be helped. I guess it’s even fair enough, because even if I did know where she’s staying, I wouldn’t tell you.’

His mouth turned grim then. His nostrils flared. ‘So that’s that then, is it?’

‘I’m afraid so.’ A sigh of regret stole through her. ‘I’m sorry, Simon, but Felice is of age and, I believe, capable of making her own decisions.’

He folded his arms and scowled.

Kate had liked the charming stranger with the to-die-for accent, empathised with the worried big brother with the clear grey eyes…but this scowling, thwarted man made her shift in her seat and wish herself elsewhere. She wondered what face he showed most often to Felice?

She recalled the panic in Felice’s voice and found her answer.

And then it hit her—the scowling and the glaring; it was just a foil for his fear. It was obvious he’d spent the last few months worried sick about his sister. Instead of telling Felice he loved her and was glad she was okay, he’d lashed out at her as if…

As if he expected rejection.

What on earth had happened between them?

‘What now?’ he demanded. ‘What the hell is she doing, anyway?’

She’d bet more people bowed and scraped to His Lordship than stood up to him. She wanted to tell him to stop acting like a spoilt child, only when she looked at him there was nothing of the child in the sensual firmness of his lips, or the broad, lean strokes of his body.

‘She’s seeing some of the world, back-packing like she always intended. She’ll be home in a fortnight.’

‘Home?’ He pounced on the word. ‘Her home is in England!’

Oh, dear. ‘Back, then. She’ll be back in a fortnight.’

Kate’s back started to tighten and ache—like it always did when she felt torn. She loved Felice and had given her word. Yet it didn’t stop her from feeling an enormous surge of empathy for this man sitting opposite her. She knew what it was like to fret over a sibling. She knew what it was like to worry about a child.

And Simon’s expression told her he still thought of Felice as a child.

His expression also told her he needed to loosen up.

‘What am I supposed to do in the meantime?’ he demanded.

‘You could return home to England,’ she offered. ‘I promise to make sure Felice calls you when she gets back.’

He shook his head once decisively. ‘I’m not leaving till I see her.’

Good. Instinct told her he should stay if he wanted to mend his relationship with Felice.

‘Well, then.’ She gestured to the view. ‘You’re in the centre of a tourist Mecca, my Lord.’ He was in Nelson’s Bay, one of the main towns of Port Stephens—three hours north of Sydney and, in Kate’s opinion, one of the prettiest places on earth. ‘If you’re intent on staying, have a holiday.’

‘I don’t have time for a holiday!’

She took in the tight set of his shoulders. ‘Why not?’ She might not be a doctor, she wasn’t a nurse, but she had a first aid certificate and she could tell a holiday was precisely what he needed.

‘I have an estate to run. I—’

‘Is that more important than hanging around here and waiting for Felice?’

‘No.’

Right answer. And he hadn’t even hesitated. It made her lips curve into a grin. He blinked. His eyes narrowed, but she ignored his suspicion. ‘Have you forgotten how to have fun? I bet all you do is work and sleep.’

And worry about Felice. She’d met men like this before. Men like her father, who thought they’d find relief in work. Hard work had helped her father up to a point. If only he’d put as much effort into winning back Kate’s mother—the love of his life. Maybe then he’d have been happy.

‘I—’

‘You need to loosen up, Simon. You need to stop and smell the roses. Do you have rose gardens on your estate? I bet you do. Roses aren’t our specialty here in Nelson’s Bay, but salt is. And coconut oil.’

He stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. ‘You want me to stop and smell the…coconut oil?’

‘Absolutely. Everyone should stop and smell the coconut oil.’

He kept staring at her as if she’d just confirmed her craziness. Perhaps she had, but she couldn’t help it—she wanted to make Simon laugh and forget his troubles like she did when Jesse came home from school glum, with the weight of the world pressing down on his seven-year-old shoulders.

‘C’mon.’ She stood. ‘You need to feel sand between your toes and be at the centre of a lot of squawking.’

CHAPTER TWO

‘I…WHAT?’

Simon stood too, but he looked far from decisive. That was okay because she’d be decisive enough for both of them. If Simon wanted to rebuild his relationship with Felice, he had to learn to loosen up. ‘First things first.’ She twinkled at him. ‘We need to get you out of that suit.’

A giggle! For heaven’s sake, she wasn’t twelve. And that skippety-skip in her pulse had nothing to do with anything.

There was no denying, though, that the blood surged through her veins with a new kind of vigour.

Maybe that was a bad omen, not a good one?

She pushed the thought aside. This was about him, not her.

‘I’m guessing you don’t want to ruin that gorgeous Italian suit?’

‘Bond Street,’ he said automatically, as if he couldn’t help it.

‘That’s a no then, is it?’ She didn’t wait for him to answer but tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow and tugged him towards a rack of clothes outside a nearby shop front. He was far too polite—or was that stunned—to resist.

‘Ooh, end of season sales. We’re in luck.’ She pulled out a pair of board shorts for inspection. ‘These look like they’d fit you.’

‘I’m not wearing those!’

They were pink and white candy-striped. ‘Pity.’ She hung them back up and pulled out another pair in loud red and yellow. She took one look at the expression on his face and shook her head. ‘No,’ she agreed. Then a bolt of pure mischief shook her. ‘Stop press! I’ve found the perfect pair.’ She pulled them out and held them triumphantly aloft.

Simon’s jaw dropped. ‘That’s the Union Jack.’

‘It is,’ she said, eyeing them with satisfaction. ‘And I think they’d suit your Lordship down to the ground.’

She suddenly found her shoulders seized in strong hands and Simon glaring down at her. His fingers curved into the soft flesh of her upper arms, firm but not hurting her. The barely contained power of the man transferred itself through his fingers to her arms…and then her brain. It made her pulse leap and jerk. For one fateful moment she thought he meant to kiss her.

If he did, she had an awful feeling she might just kiss him back.

Bad omen! Very bad omen.

‘Can we drop the Lordship thing?’ he growled. ‘Will you please just call me Simon?’

She swallowed and nodded. ‘Yes.’

He blinked as if he hadn’t expected such easy acquiescence. For some reason she found that…unbelievably sad. ‘I wouldn’t have teased you about it if I’d known you hated it.’ She had a feeling the lord thing would get right up her nose too. ‘I’m sorry.’

For a moment he looked lost and she wanted to hug him.

‘That’s okay.’

His voice sounded hoarse, then his gaze dropped to her lips. His eyes darkened from mist-grey to charcoal. Although he didn’t move a finger, his hands at her shoulders became gentler and almost seemed to cradle her. And he kept staring and staring at her lips. They tingled in response. They wanted to part, to offer him a provocative invitation.

Bad move. Reckless. But she couldn’t remember the last time a man had looked at her with such naked hunger. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had elicited a matching hunger from her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been reckless.

Gloriously and wondrously reckless.

She wasn’t free to be reckless.

But…

No. Not a good idea with a man who’d be gone in the blink of an eye.

‘Simon?’ she said, at the same time as he pulled his hands away and took a step back. She wondered if she looked as nonplussed as he did. She lifted the Union Jack board shorts, holding them up like a barrier. ‘That’s a no then, is it?’

He cleared his throat. ‘That’s a resounding no.’

‘Well?’ She gestured to the rack.

She watched his gaze dart along it. He pounced on a sky-blue pair. ‘These will do nicely.’ Then he did a double-take.

Kate started to laugh. ‘I dare you to,’ she challenged. The colour had obviously lulled him into a false sense of security. Overlaying the sky-blue was a Hawaiian print of golden beaches, palm trees and Hula girls. Exuberant and colourful.

Reckless.

He glared at her, raked a hand back through his too-short hair. ‘I take it there’s a point to all of this?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘And are you going to enlighten me?’

‘Perhaps. It depends on how wholeheartedly you throw yourself into it.’

‘Into what?’

‘Ah, if you can answer that at the end of the afternoon then I’ll most definitely enlighten you.’

His mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out.

‘Simon—’ her hands went to her hips ‘—do you have anything else planned for the day?’

‘No, but…’

‘Then just go with the flow.’

‘The flow?’

Before he could think of another objection, Kate sped along to the next rack—T-shirts. ‘Any preference for colour?’ she tossed over her shoulder. ‘And do you like a tight T-shirt or something a bit roomier?’

He was staring at her as if she’d lost her mind. Again.

She cocked her head to one side and pretended to study him, tapping a finger against her chin. ‘I think you’d look great in a tight T-shirt, but for reasons of comfort I’d understand if you prefer a looser one.’

And finally he smiled.

She wanted to dance a victory jig. She didn’t. She just smiled back.

‘Are you always like this?’

She forced her eyes wide. ‘Like what?’ She handed him a shirt—blue-grey. It’d match his eyes.

‘Incorrigible.’

She touched a hand to her throat in mock surprise. ‘Moi?’ Then she pushed him into the interior of the shop. ‘Dressing rooms are that way. If the clothes fit, leave them on. The salesman will give you a bag for your suit.’

‘I—’

‘And you’ll need a pair of thongs.’ He gazed at her in horrified incomprehension and she added, ‘You know, flip-flops.’ She pointed to a row of them, then turned on her heel and left him to it, her heart racing and her palms sweaty. She swiped them down the front of her shorts. Go with the flow? As long as the flow didn’t contain any more thoughts of kissing and cosying up to Simon Morton-Blake, she’d be just fine.

She pulled her cell phone from her pocket.

‘God! Has he gone?’ Felice demanded, answering immediately and dispensing with pleasantries.

‘He’ll be busy for at least ten minutes, I think.’

‘Please tell me you’ve talked him into going home.’

‘You are joking, right?’ Kate cast a glance back towards the menswear shop. ‘I’m not even going to try. He claims he’s not leaving until he sees you.’

Felice uttered something midway between a groan and a snort. ‘Don’t worry, he won’t hang around in Australia for a whole fortnight waiting for me to show my face.’

Kate sensed the hurt that stretched behind those words. ‘We’ll see.’ She bit her lip. ‘Want to tell me about it?’

‘There’s nothing to tell. Other than the fact that he’s a total tyrant and too stuffy to step even a big toe out of line.’

Kate mulled that over for a moment. ‘You know what? I don’t think you should give a moment’s notice to anything other than enjoying your honeymoon.’ A girl only got one honeymoon. ‘I’ll take care of everything at this end, including Simon. I don’t want you to give it another thought.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Positive.’

‘Thanks, Kate.’

Felice rang off. Kate turned to wait for Simon.

When he emerged from the shop ten minutes later, she tried to wolf-whistle, but she’d never been able to wolf-whistle to save her life. Simon was definitely wolf-whistle worthy, though. ‘I’ve been dying to see your knees,’ she teased. He had great legs—strong calves, muscled thighs…even if said legs were a tad pale. A fortnight in the sun would set that to rights.

Simon didn’t smile. ‘I feel like an idiot,’ he grumbled.

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