The Secretary's Secret

‘Is that where you swam as a teenager?’ He pointed to the surf beach. He’d bet at sixteen she’d been a golden surfer girl.

She grinned at him and it struck him that she stil was.

‘Sometimes. But when I was a teenager my friends and I hung out at Forster beach.’ She waved her hand to her right, indicating somewhere across the channel. ‘It was way cooler.’

He laughed at the teenage inflection. He paused to glance back at the bridge that spanned the channel and connected the two townships of Tuncurry and Forster. It was white and wooden and gleamed in the sun.

She nudged his arm and urged him forward again. ‘C’mon, I want to see if my favourite rock is taken.’

She had a favourite rock?

It was a huge flat monstrosity about three-quarters of the way along the breakwater that looked as if it would comfortably hold four people with room to spare. She gave a whoop and immediately clambered down to it.

‘Heck, Kit!’ Alex tried to keep up with her, tried to put a hand under her elbow to steady her. An impossibility given his armful of fishing rod and tackle box. He dropped the bucket. ‘Steady on.

You’re pregnant. You’re supposed to take it easy.’

She turned back to look at him, hand on her head to keep her hat in place. ‘It doesn’t make me an infirm old granny, you know? Now, c’mon, front and centre. I’m going to teach you how to cast off and if you don’t get the knack by your third go I’m going to push you in.’

The bark of laughter that shot out of him took him completely by surprise, but Kit’s eyes were so bright with pleasure that he didn’t try to suppress it.

He managed to cast off successful y on his second go. Kit cast off next and then settled on the rock, feet dangling out over the water several metres below. Alex folded his large frame down to sit beside her. ‘What now?’

She sent him a wide-eyed stare. ‘Why, we wait to catch a fish, of course.’

But he could sense her laughter bubbling just beneath the surface and it made him grin. It made him feel as if he was on holiday.

It made him feel young.

His grin, or whatever she saw in his face, made Kit’s eyes widen. Her eyes dropped to his lips and he recognized the flare of temptation that flitted through them.

If she leaned forward and kissed him, he would kiss her back. Right or wrong, he would cup one hand around the back of her head, slant his lips over hers and explore every mil imetre of those delectable lips of hers. Slowly. Thoroughly.

They were both holding fishing rods. How much trouble could one little kiss cause…in public, on a breakwater?

He glanced down at the oyster-encrusted rocks below and found his answer. It took every ounce of strength he had, but he turned his eyes seaward.

‘What are we hoping to catch?’

‘Who cares?’

Her voice came out al breathy. Alex’s hands tightened on his rod. He kept his gaze doggedly out to sea, but from the corner of his eye he could see to sea, but from the corner of his eye he could see the way she swung her legs.

‘I am wearing my swimming togs under this dress, you know?’

‘What?’

‘You seem very disapproving. You think my dress is too short, don’t you?’

‘No, I—’

He broke off. He could hardly explain the reason he kept staring was because he couldn’t help it, because she fascinated him, because he wanted her. That wouldn’t help either of them.

‘Bream,’ she said. ‘A couple of bream would be nice. Or whiting. They taste great—sweet and juicy.

Lots of bones, though. A flathead, maybe? Just try and avoid hooking a grey nurse shark. It’l snap the line.’

‘I’l do my best,’ he managed.

‘It’d be nice if the tailor started to chop.’

He didn’t know what that meant. No doubt if he hung around long enough he’d find out. If he stayed.

Sitting here now beside Kit, that was easy to imagine.

‘Oh, but it’s good to be back.’

He turned to find she’d tilted her face to the sun—

pleasure, gratitude and satisfaction al alive in her face. His gut clenched. He tried to remember her in one of her prim dark suits. He could—with remarkable alacrity—but… ‘You belong here.’

Not that he’d ever considered her out of place in the city, but here…she was home. Had he real y intended to drag her away? How did a measly job compete with al this?

‘What?’ she teased. ‘On a breakwater, fishing?’