By Request Collection April-June 2016. Оливия Гейтс

drift of voices from homes close to Emily’s. People who saw this woman every day. Probably had for years. How could she still be alone? How had some man not scooped her up and carried her and her daughter off?

      When would she answer this door? He checked the number again just as the door opened.

      His breath was expelled in a sigh. A woman with such style. ‘Bellísima.’ Every time he saw her she captured more of his attention. Appeared more exquisite.

      ‘Thank you. Come through.’ She gestured to the quaint sitting area with the carved wooden archway between the rooms.

      Emily smoothed her coral skirt, willing the heat in her cheeks to subside as she invited him in. He looked pretty hot himself in immaculate black trousers and a silk shirt that screamed Italian tailor.

      If he only knew. She didn’t spend money on clothes. Only the occasional piece of underwear she still felt guilty about and hid from her daughter. Gran’s skirt and antique lace blouse, even her lovely silver dancing shoes were sixty years old but fitted perfectly. She’d always been Gran’s size since she’d had Annie.

      Sixteen years the same size. Except for the last few months when the one loving person in her life had faded away to a wisp of her former self.

      ‘The boat leaves at six. Forgive me if I rush you but it is to catch the sunset on the water.’

      Not the time for sad memories.

      Tonight she would embrace life and a handsome man.

      She’d forgotten how good it felt to dress up and see her escort light up when he saw her. See his eyes smoulder, sweep over her, want her. Not that she was thinking that. But sixteen years was too long between attempted seductions so it would be nice to see if she still had feminine wiles.

      He was waiting. ‘I’ll just get my purse.’ She leant past him to the hall table and picked up her filmy wrap as well as her tiny clutch. ‘A night on the harbour is worth the rush.’

      He stepped forward and took the wrap from her hands. ‘Allow me,’he said, and spread the floating silk over her shoulders. She tried not to shiver with the sensation. ‘My car is downstairs.’ She focussed on transport—much safer.

      ‘Is it worth having a car when you work such long hours?’ She was still gabbling as she pulled the door shut after him.

      ‘Si.’ He waited for her to precede him down the steps and she could feel his presence solid behind her. It felt strange, to say the least. She felt strange. Like a teen. She really did need to get out more.

      ‘I have rented an apartment across the bay near the clown’s face and I am often called in.’

      ‘Of course.’ Not tonight, she hoped.

      ‘Not tonight, though.’

      She smiled as he answered her thought and glanced towards the harbour. Imagining the bright mouth of the amusement-park entrance. ‘So you’re near Luna Park. Do you look down on it? Can you hear the children screaming on the rides?’

      Gran used to take her and Annie. For a few years it had been sadly neglected but she’d heard it had been renovated and new life breathed into the attractions.

      ‘A little. It makes me smile. But my windows face mainly across the harbour and the bridge. The view is as good as anywhere I have travelled.’

      ‘You could have caught the ferry from Milson’s Point to me here. Just get off at Balmain East.’

      ‘Si. Perhaps another day. But tonight I prefer the privacy of my own vehicle.’

      He unlocked the car and waited for her to sit with her skirt straightened before he closed the door. Within seconds he was slipping in beside her and suddenly the car shrank to a tiny womb of warm air imbued with a faint tang of his aftershave.

      She was really here. In a car with a gorgeous Italian man intent on sharing the evening with her. He’d said he only wanted her company. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been out with a man and felt like this.

      Gran and her knitting buddies had nudged her into a movie or two with men she’d met but each time they’d withdrawn when they’d realised how much time she needed to spend with Annie.

      He gestured to the houses and trees around her home. ‘You must love living here.’

      ‘Yep. I walk around the bay to catch a ferry to the city on my days off. Or just walk around the harbour.’

      He leaned forward and started the engine. ‘Your harbour is incredible but I probably see more of it from the hospital windows.’ He shrugged those lovely shoulders of his and she tried not to stare. ‘Except at night before sleep.’

      She didn’t want to think of Marco sleeping, or maybe she did, because the picture came anyway. Black boxers? Or those hipster undies the male models wore that clung. Also in black. No shirt. Silk sheets. Stretched out across the mattress. Whoa.

      What on earth had they been talking about before her mind had gone AWOL? View watching? ‘Perhaps you should do less work hours.’

      He grinned at her. All white teeth and vibrant male who scorned the thought of taking things easy. ‘For what reason? I like to give my job everything.’

      ‘Um. Life just might speed by.’

      He glanced at her as they waited to turn onto a busy road. ‘Has life sped by for you, Emily?’

      ‘I’m thinking the last sixteen years have.’ She loved the way he drawled her name. Emerrrleee.

      The way it rolled from his lips with that sexy undertone. She’d never really felt she’d arrived in the sexy department but, hey, there was a first for everything, and Gran’s blouse was firm across her breasts. Must be why she was so conscious of her curves tonight.

      Conversation remained desultory until they arrived. She’d expected a shiny white mini cruise ship like she saw most times ablaze with lights and four decks high with tuxedoed waiters. Five star, sit behind glass, no nasty breeze to muck up your hair. She didn’t get that.

      What she got was a hundred-year-old tall ship, three masted and dark polished wood. He ushered her up the wooden gangway on the side of the ship and they were met by a very official-looking captain with a feathered hat.

      His staff was dressed in period costume, sailors and maidservants from a bygone era, the few tables grouped in secluded areas of the deck set with lace and crystal and the dull glint of genuine silverware.

      Marco watched her. Enjoyed her reaction. Her eyes widened with wonder and she turned to look up at him. ‘Wow …’ The word was soft but his heart warmed at the genuine delight he could see in her face.

      ‘How did you find out about this? I thought they were only privately hired.’

      ‘Your Dr Finn. He’s been very helpful.’

      Finn helpful? He must have read her face because he smiled and said, ‘He is a man’s man, perhaps.’

      She thought of Evie. Or a strong woman’s man. Grumpy Finn even knowing about something like this was hard to take in but she didn’t care.

      She much preferred a man who had gentleness and a way that made her feel at ease. Though a little sexual attraction wasn’t going astray. Like Marco? What was wrong with her tonight? She needed to remember where fact lay and fantastic fiction fell. She rested her hand on his arm. ‘This is great. I love it. Thank you.’

      His hand came up to cover hers. ‘And I am glad.’ The captain gestured to their table and helped her sit.

      The best seats. They were seated at the stern and she could glance behind her to the water slapping gently against the hull. The masts soared into the sky in front of her.

      They hadn’t made it with much time to spare. The rattle of the wooden gangplank echoed across the water as it was pulled in. The scurry