‘You’re not carrying them,’ she told him. ‘They’re dirty. You’ll get your nice shirt soiled.’

‘Peta…’ He lifted the tools from her grasp. ‘Your ankle still hurts and you’re married, remember? Isn’t the husband supposed to be hunter gatherer?’

‘Only in families when the little woman stays home and cooks. And you wouldn’t let me buy baked beans.’

‘So I wouldn’t,’ he said, and grinned. He handed one of the six tools back. ‘Okay. You get to carry one spade and you get to cook cornflakes and toast. But for the rest, you have a husband. Use him.’


They fenced. They found a cow in the bottom paddock caught up in a hedge of gorse and a gully caused by erosion. They dug her free and watched her make her way back to the herd, with nary a thankful glance. They ate sandwiches that Peta had stuck in a backpack before they’d come out and they sat on the cliff and watched the sea. A dolphin pod appeared on cue, surfing through the breakers and cruising along the coast line. Marcus could see why Charles fought for development rights to this place. As a holiday resort it’d be fabulous.

As a farm it was better.

‘Is the beach safe for swimming?’ Marcus asked.

‘It sure is.’

‘Can we?’

‘Nope. I have to milk.’

‘What, already?’

‘Harry will be home any minute. Take him swimming.’

‘Doesn’t anyone help you milk?’

‘I like milking. I don’t need help.’

‘Peta, you have me. Use me.’

‘No.’

‘You need-’

‘I don’t need a husband in any more than name,’ she interrupted, her face closed. ‘You know that. Thank you for my day.’ She rose and gave what seemed to him to be a regretful glance at the ocean. ‘Stay here and rest. I’m off to play milkmaid.’

‘Peta, I want to come. Your foot must be hurting.’

‘My foot’s fine. It has to be. And I told you, you’ll scare the cows. Keep Harry company.’


But Harry didn’t want company. Harry had homework. ‘I’m way behind and there’s a cool project I have to do on volcanoes.’

‘Would you like some help?’

‘Nah,’ Harry told him. ‘Thanks anyway but I’m used to doing stuff on my own.’

So was Marcus. Wasn’t he? Dismissed and not enjoying the sensation as much as he might expect, Marcus made his way back to the beach.

At least here was pleasure. The water was gorgeous. He swam with the strength of a champion swimmer-not for nothing had he purchased an apartment with rights to an indoor lap pool-but he swam alone.

He was so unsettled. What was he doing?

Nothing. He was doing nothing. He wasn’t needed.

It should make him contented. Two weeks holiday with nothing to do and no demands on him.

It made him… He didn’t know what. He’d never had nothing to do in his life.

And he’d never wanted to be needed-by someone who didn’t want him.


She watched him.

Peta milked her cows and all the time she was achingly aware of the man on the beach below the dairy. She could see him stroking back and forth across the bay. He looked superbly fit and at home in the surf, a far cry from the tailored New York businessman she’d fallen for five days ago.

Fallen for?

Uh-oh. The words settled. Then they settled some more. Had she fallen for Marcus Benson?

Of course she had.

‘And I’ve fallen hard.’

She said it out loud and the cow whose teats she was cleaning swivelled round and stared down at her. Bemused.

‘Do you guys fall inappropriately in love?’ she demanded and the cow kept on staring.

She stared back, and then sat back on the wet cobbles and stared some more. What had she said?

The truth. She’d said the truth.

‘How can I fall in love with Marcus Benson?’ she asked herself. ‘How can I possibly do that?’

She’d done it.

She turned and stared down at the sea. He was still stroking back and forth in steady, even strokes.

‘We have absolutely nothing in common,’ she told her cows. ‘He’s like some modern-day Prince Charming, Marcus the Magnificent, rushing round rescuing damsels in distress. It’s all very well being a damsel in distress but it doesn’t make for any sort of equal relationship.’

‘Do you want an equal relationship?’

‘I don’t want to feel rescued for the rest of my life.’

‘Yes, you do.’

‘No.’ She was talking to herself, to the cows, to anyone who’d listen. She had two sides of her brain competing. Or maybe it was her head and her heart.

‘He’d come up my end of the veranda,’ she told her cow. ‘If I pressed.’

‘You wouldn’t have to press. You know darn well what it feels like whenever we touch. He feels it, too. I know he does. And he’s a male.’

‘Are you suggesting a spot of seduction?’

‘You’re married to him. It’s hardly illegal.’

‘Are you out of your mind? In two weeks he’ll go away and…’

‘And break your heart.’

Head and heart converged right there. The truth was unpalatable but it was unescapable.

‘You’ve really fallen for him, haven’t you?’ she whispered.

‘Maybe I have,’ she whispered back. ‘But it’s not the knight in shining armour I want. Or…not very much. It’s the man who makes Harry laugh. The man who cares for his assistant. Who makes Ruby smile. Who makes my heart twist…’

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

‘So keep on with what you’re doing,’ she told herself. ‘Keep it light. Keep it distant. And above all, keep your heart intact.’

‘Your heart hasn’t been intact for five days.’

‘It has to be.’


Peta finished milking and returned to the house to find Harry packing sausages into a picnic basket.

‘Beach night,’ he said as she paused in the kitchen door.

Beach night. It was a custom they’d had for years. On a warm, still night like this they’d take their dinner to the beach, light a fire and cook it there. They’d swim and eat and return to the house at dusk.

It was a great idea. But… Was it a great idea when Marcus was around?

‘He’s still down there,’ Harry told her. ‘I went to see and he’s gone for a run. He’s just a dot on the horizon. I reckon we could get the campfire burning before he comes back.’

‘I thought… Won’t he want to cook? He bought lots of ingredients this morning.’

‘It’s our turn to cook-and we make great sausages,’ Harry retorted. ‘I’ll watch them so you don’t even get to burn them.’

‘Gee, thanks.’

‘Go get your swimsuit,’ he told her. ‘Hurry up.’

‘But…’

‘But what?’

But… She just knew it wasn’t wise. Help.


They’d done this often. They were expert. By the time Marcus returned from his run, they had the fire burning and there was already a bed of hot coals. They’d scooped the flame from the centre and the sausages were sizzling in their pan. Marcus had seen the smoke in the distance and, as his jogging slowed to a walk, he realised they were here and waiting for him. The smell of sausages reached him and he had no need of Harry’s shouted announcement.

‘We’re having a barbecue. Come and get it.’

Peta looked up from turning the sausages. She had on a swimming costume, but she’d thrown an oversized T-shirt over it. A pity…

‘Hey, great pecs,’ Harry called and he suddenly thought an oversized T-shirt was a really good idea. Peta was smiling at him and heck, he felt like blushing.

‘Cut it out,’ he growled.

‘Are you brave enough to eat one of my sausages?’ Peta was saying, taking pity on him but still smiling. Harry hastened to reassure him.

‘I’ve done most of the cooking and the cake for afterwards is one you guys bought at the bakers today.’

‘So I needn’t worry about being poisoned?’ he asked and watched Peta’s smile widen. She had the loveliest smile…

‘My cooking’s not that bad.’

‘Yes, it is,’ Harry said cheerfully. ‘How many sausages, Marc? Three or four?’

‘Six.’ He sank down on the picnic rug. Sausages were something he normally wouldn’t consider but they looked great. He’d been outside all day. He was starving, he realised. Even if Peta had burned them…

‘If you’re hungry enough you’ll eat anything,’ she said, as if reading his thoughts. ‘Cooking classes are a waste of time.’

‘And cooks are a waste of time?’

‘I’m sure whatever’s important to you is your own business,’ she said primly and he grinned at the twinkle behind her green eyes. She had the capacity to tease. To make him smile inside. To make him feel…

Heck, to make him feel as if he did want to save her. To take her as his Cinderella and turn her into his companion for life. If she could always be here. Laughing at him. Gently mocking. Making his life light from within…

Stupid thought. Brought on by hunger and by sausages. He made a frantic attempt to haul his senses-all his senses-back to what was most important.

‘Did you bring ketchup?’ he asked.

‘Ketchup?’ Harry looked nonplussed.

‘He means sauce,’ Peta told him. ‘He talks American.’

‘You should learn Australian,’ Harry said, handing over the sauce bottle. ‘It’s not really even sauce. It’s dead horse. You say pass the dead horse and every Australian knows what you mean. So I guess dead horse is Australian for ketchup.’

‘I have a lot to learn,’ Marcus said faintly.

‘You do,’ Harry agreed. ‘You’re going to have to hurry up to fit it all into two weeks.’


They ate their sausages and their chocolate cake and then Peta went for a swim. Harry disappeared back to the house-to finish his volcanoes. Maybe Marcus should have gone, too, but how could he leave Peta swimming alone? The fact that he knew for sure she swam alone nearly every day didn’t cut it. She was swimming alone now and he was staying.

In truth, he wanted to go back into the water as well, but he couldn’t. Something stopped him.

Being in the water with her… Somehow it seemed like taking a step to her end of the veranda.