From Sydney With Love. Kelly Hunter

the position implied, Charlotte Greenstone didn’t hold back when it came to playing the part of free-spirited bohemian. She could tell a story of old bones and bring to life the heat and the dust and the excitement along with it. She could open a person up and rifle around inside until she found something they could both discuss with passion and verve. She had manners, and a great deal of charm, some of which was polished, and some of it innate.

      Grey watched Charlotte bespell his father within minutes of her starting up a conversation with him about the vagaries of catapults versus castle walls. He watched her as she talked oysters with his father’s fishing buddy and recipes with his wife. He watched his mother’s friends tread carefully with her, wanting to find fault with her manners or her demeanour, and discovering to their consternation that they could not.

      His mother remained aloof, never mind Charlotte’s many attempts to initiate conversation and find common ground.

      Chillingly, publicly unimpressed.

      The meal came and went and the hours ground by. People began to make noises about leaving. Charlotte asked if there was anything she could do when it came to the clearing of tables or general tidying up. Grey frowned as Sarah immediately stepped in and began clearing and Olivia waved Charlotte away, telling her to sit and relax and continue telling tales.

      Telling tales …

      As if nothing she’d said so far could be trusted.

      Charlotte smiled politely. She didn’t so much as flinch as she settled back into playing the role of carefree companion and confident lover, and doing herself a disservice in the process, for there was more to her than that. Far more depth than he’d ever suspected.

      Maybe it was time to leave.

      Grey eased Charlotte away from the other guests until they reached the deck railing. He pointed out the various landmarks and she leaned her shoulder against his and showed every indication of hanging on his every word. He hadn’t touched her since their earlier kiss. He hadn’t been game. Now he turned his back on the view and spread his arms along the railing. Not quite an embrace, but an invitation for Charlotte to take what she would from him. Shelter, if she wanted it. Protection if she felt the need. Or anything else she might want to avail herself of.

      Charlotte traced her fingers along the inside of his arm, up to his elbow and back, and when she reached his hand she covered it with her own, so soft and slim against the rough squareness of his. He liked the contrast. He liked a lot of things about this woman.

      ‘Ready to go?’ he murmured.

      Relief crossed her face and was gone in an instant but this time he saw it. Charlotte Greenstone was more than ready to leave the family embrace and probably had been for hours.

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘C’mere,’ he murmured and drew her towards him, touching his lips to her hair as she nestled against him as if she’d been there a thousand times and would be there a thousand more before they were through. ‘You should have said.’

      ‘It’s your show.’

      Yes, but it was her identity that was taking the battering.

      They made their farewells after that. Sarah receiving Grey’s guarded goodbye with a tight-lipped smile and eyes that wished him to hell. He hadn’t encouraged Sarah’s attentions over the course of the afternoon. Sarah hadn’t given chase, hadn’t made a scene, hadn’t singled out Charlotte again. Sarah waited, that was all, and Grey wished to hell she wouldn’t.

      ‘Where to next with your work?’ asked his father as he and Olivia saw them to the door.

      ‘Could be Borneo,’ said Grey. ‘Could stay here a while. Plans are pretty fluid at the moment.’ He slid Charlotte a quick glance. Charlotte picked it up and responded with a smile.

      ‘Borneo’s lovely,’ she enthused, playing the Boheme and playing it well. ‘Wonderful place to visit and to work. My godmother and I spent half a year there once, when I was a child. Think of the history.’

      ‘Think of the malaria,’ said Olivia dryly. ‘What were you and your godmother doing there?’

      ‘Just looking,’ said Charlotte. ‘We did that a lot. Thank you for having me to lunch.’ She didn’t say she enjoyed it. Olivia didn’t say, ‘Do come again.’

      Women.

      Grey wasn’t used to a pensive Charlotte Greenstone. A woman who wore her beauty effortlessly, almost unconsciously, but who’d grown quieter and more reflective with every passing kilometre. As if lunch with his parents and Sarah and all the rest had drained her dry.

      ‘I’m sorry about my mother,’ he said, after another fifteen kilometres of silence.

      ‘Mothers are protective of their young,’ she said quietly. ‘You don’t have to be a biology major to get that. Anyway, it’s not as if I’ll be seeing her again.’ Charlotte closed her eyes as if to shut out reality. ‘May I offer up a little bit of advice?’

      ‘Go ahead.’

      ‘When you do find a woman who interests you, introduce her to your family gradually. Try one limb at a time; or one family member at a time. Don’t involve Sarah, not at the start. It does no one any favours.’

      ‘Noted,’ he murmured. ‘And thank you.’ He’d do well to keep his eyes on the road and off his companion. His wildly beautiful companion with hidden depths. ‘Are you hungry? We could stop somewhere on the way home. I did promise you dinner.’

      ‘I can’t eat any more today,’ she said. ‘Your mother sets a fine table.’

      ‘You have to eat something later on.’

      ‘I might have a cognac nightcap.’

      ‘That’s not food.’

      ‘Want to bet?’

      They drove in silence after that, apart from a murmured comment here and there. When they got to the outskirts of Sydney, Charlotte surprised him yet again by requesting that he drop her at an inner city Rocks address rather than the one he’d picked her up from.

      She directed him into a steeply descending driveway, dug a set of keys from her handbag, and pressed a remote switch attached to the key ring. The eight-foot wrought-iron driveway gates began to ease open. A heavy-duty garage Roll-A-Door began to open further down the drive. ‘Who lives here?’

      ‘Me,’ she said as Grey drove down into a spacious underground car park with room for a dozen or so vehicles. ‘The house at Double Bay belongs to Aurora. At least, it did. Now it’s mine, only I couldn’t face going there tonight. She’d have been disappointed in me today, I think. In the hurt I caused, no matter how much better off Sarah’s going to be without you. Too many lies. Far too many lies of late, and they just keep getting bigger. You can park there.’

      He did as suggested, brooding over her remarks as he strode around the car to open the door for her.

      She smiled, briefly, as she got out of the car and he closed the door behind her, but there was no leaning into him as there had been for his parents’ benefit. No playing of power games.

      ‘I’m sorry about today,’ he said gruffly. ‘I shouldn’t have dragged you into this.’

      ‘You didn’t. We had a deal. A good deal—one I entered into willingly.’ She offered up a small smile. ‘Don’t mind me if I seem a bit morose. It’ll pass.’

      He hoped so.

      ‘Would you care to come up for a coffee?’ she said next. ‘I’ve no agenda, no ulterior motive other than I don’t think much of my own company these days and I do my best to avoid it. You could tell me about your research. About what you hope to find in Borneo.’

      Grey hesitated.

      ‘Never mind,’ she said quietly. ‘It’s not mandatory. We’re square now. And you probably