Harry St Clair: Rogue or Doctor?. Fiona McArthurЧитать онлайн книгу.
raised her eyebrows and then her chin. ‘I don’t know you.’ She shook her head. ‘Do I know your wife?’
His hand dropped and his other came over the ring and hid it from view. ‘I doubt that. She’s been gone for more than two years.’
Bonnie closed her eyes. He was a widower? Hell. ‘I’m sorry.’ But it was too late now. She’d jumped to the conclusion he was just like Jeremy, Dr Sleaze, with the harem of women in the wings and their joint bank account he’d emptied.
Infidelity brought back the memories she’d thought she’d zippered away in a sealed compartment, like she’d packed her suitcase to fly into Denpasar. But that was no excuse for accusing him.
She could feel her fingers against her side, twitching a little as if hoping he’d put his hand out again and give her another shot. But her hand wouldn’t make the journey by itself. Her barriers were secure. That was a good thing. ‘I’m sorry. I have to go.’
Harry wasn’t ready for that. Hadn’t expected it because it didn’t happen to him often. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been given the flick so smoothly. He followed her. ‘I didn’t catch your name.’
She kept walking and obviously she didn’t care if he heard her or not. ‘I didn’t throw it,’ she muttered.
So this was how it felt, Harry reminded himself. Unpleasant, but more interesting. Maybe he was a masochist? The wall around her was higher than the one around the Royal Palace in Ubud and twice as fascinating. He knew all about walls to keep people out. Suddenly it became imperative he have more than a brief chat with her about the weather.
He took two big steps and caught up with her. ‘But you threw an insult. I’m only looking for a nice platonic dinner partner to share Jimbaran Bay with. Maybe we could talk about that?’
At least she’d stopped. Turned to look at him. But she wasn’t saying anything. He could feel those liquid eyes assessing him, and he felt as if he were posing, like in a passport photograph, with that frozen, trying-not-to-look-like-a-psychopath expression on his face.
It was as if she didn’t know what to say so she didn’t say anything at all. More people should try that. It was attractive. And at least it wasn’t no.
He went on because he knew he had seconds before she disappeared. Make it count, old boy. ‘I really am Harry St Clair. They know me here. I’m reluctant to ask someone else.’ He glanced around as if there were loads of women he could ask. ‘All those candles and tables in the sand at Jimbaran are just too romantic.’ He shrugged. ‘I can tell you loathe me. I’d feel safe with you.’
He felt like groaning. What the heck was falling out of his mouth? He was an idiot and he wouldn’t blame her if she ran away. Where had that come from?
‘I think you’ve tickets on yourself,’ she said, and her eyes suddenly looked as lush as the local jungle and just as dangerous. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea because this woman had weapons he wasn’t that sure he could hold out against if she used them all.
‘I apologise. I was insensitive about your wife.’ She looked away and he thought he heard her sigh. ‘I don’t know you enough to loathe you but I guess I could think about trying.’
Bonnie glanced over her shoulder at the pinking horizon. Was she mad? Was it too late to squirm out? ‘The sun’s gone. Why go to Jimbaran now?’ She’d heard of the bay past the airport. ‘Everything I’ve heard’s about the sunset.’
He slanted a quick look at her as he followed her towards the main building of the resort. ‘I enjoy eating seafood on the beach. But not alone. My treat?’
‘Wow. A big spender. I might choose lobster.’ Even to her it sounded like a yes. She didn’t know the man. But then, the girls had implied he wasn’t a serial killer. Most men who looked like him usually weren’t. No doubt some women would do their own dying to attract his attention.
But there was that tiny worrying buzz that hummed somewhere near her stomach when she looked at him. The last time she’d been attracted this noticeably to a man it had ended in major disaster and she’d decided she truly enjoyed being single.
Which would be why her friends had practically forced her onto the plane to Denpasar. Hmm. Maybe she didn’t enjoy total isolation from all men all the time. Maybe she just needed a holiday flirtation to restore her self-esteem and a sense of balance?
‘I’m good for the bill.’ He glanced at his watch, a flash one, and she wondered if it was real or one of the ten-dollar fakes that were sold on every corner in Kuta. It looked real but then, so did he and she didn’t believe in him. And this hotel was nice but not expensive. Not a place for watches like his. Lots of things didn’t make sense.
He went on. ‘I’m starving. You look great. Don’t suppose you’d come as you are?’
He was way too pushy but she was hungry now, not sure where that appetite had come from. She glanced down at the halter-necked silk dress she’d picked up at the markets. It was cool, comfortable and matched the sequined slides she’d bought with it. Why change for a man she barely knew?
‘I’ll leave a note under the girls’ door.’ It didn’t hurt to pretend somebody cared where she went and with whom.
He nodded. ‘Great idea. In case we’re late.’
Cool green eyes met blue. ‘We won’t be late.’
Harry looked across at her and tried to figure it out. Every time he looked into her eyes he fell more deeply under her spell. And she was determined. It was her way or the highway and he respected that. But it would be good to settle why he’d been so affected by her and then get her out of his head. Note to self: not into his bed. Good plan.
Harry hoped she couldn’t see how amazed he was she’d agreed at all. He’d thought they’d imploded after she’d mentioned Clara but they’d come around again. He was ridiculously pleased about that. Maybe it was just the fact he could talk to her and not feel he had to be someone he wasn’t. Not sure why that was either. ‘I’ll get a taxi, then, shall I?’
CHAPTER TWO
IT SEEMED Jimbaran Bay had become an institution like Kuta with a long strip of restaurants.
The beach lay stretched to the north of them with choose-your-fish and lobster tanks, flame-leaping barbecues and the biggest array of fresh seafood Bonnie had seen for years.
Then there were the hundreds of wooden tables spread across the sand almost down to the lapping water, each restaurant’s tables abutting each other as they squeezed side by side.
A pall of barbecue smoke lay over the parking area when the taxi dropped them off, people coming and going, taxis and private cars and even limousines jostling for space. And, of course, hundreds of motorbikes parked in orderly rows.
Bonnie gazed in awe at the confusion and choice. ‘How do you know which restaurant to eat in?’
‘Been before. I have my favourite and they’ll save a good table for me.’ Harry watched her drink it in. Her pleasure made him look again, inhale the smoke, hear the chatter between the competing restaurants, and recognise some of the reasons he seemed to end up here when he came down to this end of Bali.
But most of his unusual lightness of heart seemed to be emanating from being with the woman at his side. Strange, that.
She walked with him down the concrete passage between two vying shopfronts and he could feel her presence near his hip like a little force-field of energy reacting with him. Swirls of awareness prickled like the sprays of loose sand that flicked off their shoes as they walked.
When they hit the beach the sun had well and truly gone, a darkening silhouette of a fishing boat glided out on the waves as the candles flared into life along the tables. Darkness fell softly, like one of those cashmere pashminas the women wore here. He heard her sigh out a little more