From Sydney With Love. Kelly Hunter

one of the drawbacks of having a nosey family,’ he said next. ‘My mother’s been after grandchildren for years.’

      ‘Grandchildren?’

      ‘What’s your position on that?’ he asked and Charlotte glanced back towards him to find his gaze more intent than ever.

      ‘On grandchildren?’ she said lightly. ‘I can see the appeal.’

      ‘On children,’ he said. ‘And you having them.’

      ‘Yours?’

      ‘Anyone’s.’

      ‘Again, I can see the appeal,’ she said. ‘And were I in a loving and stable relationship, I might consider children an option.’

      ‘What if your partner had a vocation that required travel? Would you consider joining him on his travels? You and the children?’

      ‘Are we talking about a partner much like yourself?’

      ‘Let’s assume yes,’ he said.

      ‘It’s not a question I’ve given much thought to,’ she said. ‘Mainly because the plan is to avoid becoming involved with such a man. I’ve a lot of experience when it comes to unorthodox childhoods, Greyson. I know what worked for me, and what didn’t. I’ll not be repeating what didn’t.’

      ‘Wouldn’t that make you the perfect partner for such a man?’ he said silkily.

      ‘That would depend on his ability to forfeit his needs and desires for the greater good of his family when the time came for him to do so,’ she said, equally silkily. ‘Could you?’

      ‘Good question,’ he said blandly and peeked into the oven. ‘I think they’re done.’

      They ate on deck, bypassing the perfectly prepared table in favour of a starry sky, a playful breeze, and balancing their plates on their knees. It fed Greyson’s need for freedom and Charlotte’s need for escape from difficult questions and impossible compromises. When they were done with the food she relaxed back against the moulded bench seating and stared at the sky. You couldn’t see the stars from where she was in Sydney. Not many, at any rate, and not often. ‘I’m not against travel,’ she murmured. ‘I’m very fond of new horizons and experiences.’

      ‘I see that,’ he murmured.

      ‘Just not as an ongoing way of life.’

      ‘Have you ever made love beneath the stars?’ he murmured.

      ‘Are you changing the subject?’

      ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I’ve had enough of the old subject. I’m hunting a new one. Have you ever made love outside, under the stars?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Want to?’

      She rose and straddled him, pushing his shirt from his shoulders as she’d wanted to do all evening, glorying in his size and his strength and the lazy intensity he could bring to a moment. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I do.’

      He didn’t mean to devour her. He hadn’t meant to bring up his mother’s dinner invitation or the subject of children either. Hadn’t meant to make love to her half the night and then again come sunrise because he couldn’t get enough of her. But he did all those things to Charlotte Greenstone and she matched him, passion for passion, and warned him that last time, before her eyes had fluttered closed, that if he didn’t want her committing mutiny, her breakfast had better be bountiful and could he please serve it some time after ten.

      ‘What did your last Sherpa die of?’ he’d muttered.

      ‘Boredom,’ she’d mumbled and promptly fallen asleep.

      Greyson wasn’t bored.

      Exasperated, at times. Astonished by the sexual pleasure he found in Charlotte’s embrace. But not bored.

      He had a plan, formulated last night in between one bout of lovemaking and the next. A stupid plan, half baked and wholly crazy and one he wasn’t at all sure he’d be able to sell to Charlotte as a viable option, given her soul deep aversion to traipsing around the globe according to someone else’s whim. Still, he did have a habit of getting what he wanted. Eventually.

      Grey waited until ten-thirty to wake Charlotte from her slumber. He used a mug of the finest highland coffee PNG had to offer to rouse her. He told her the pancakes would be ready by eleven, and that there were fresh towels and toiletries in the bathroom. He thought he heard the words slave driver mumbled by way of reply, along with a few other odd words like incubus, sadist, and dead man.

      Perhaps she’d been comparing him favourably to Gil.

      ‘I have a plan,’ he said when Charlotte was wholly awake and halfway through her pancakes and coffee. ‘Will you hear me out?’

      ‘Does it involve your mother?’

      ‘No, although I dare say she’ll have something to say about the matter. It involves me going to Borneo next week to scout locations for the new project. And you coming with me.’

      Charlotte chewed slowly and swallowed hard. She reached for her coffee, deliberately stalling for time. Grey kept his mouth shut and let her stall. Press her and he’d lose her. Rush her and she’d bolt. Challenge her and he might just be able to persuade her around to his way of thinking.

      ‘Why would I do that?’ she said finally.

      ‘Because it’d give you an opportunity to test your feelings about travel,’ he offered. ‘You’ll get all the vagaries of working a remote location without having to involve your own work. Then if the lifestyle still holds no appeal for you, your work will be exactly how and where you left it. Face it, Charlotte. You’re a little hazy right now when it comes to the direction you want your career to take. A trip like this can’t hurt and might even help clarify your thoughts on the matter.’

      She didn’t deny it. ‘What’s in it for you?’ she asked warily.

      ‘You mean apart from the insanely good sex?’

      He won a tiny smile from her. ‘You have a one-track mind.’

      ‘So I’ve been told. Usually by people who fail to comprehend the bigger picture.’ He sent her his most reassuring smile, not particularly wanting to discuss his big-picture plans with her at the moment. ‘I’ll pay your way, of course.’

      Just like that, her smile disappeared. ‘Don’t be daft.’

      ‘Why is that daft? My invite, my expense. Your rules, remember?’

      ‘Those rules aren’t applicable to this situation.’

      ‘My mistake,’ he said smoothly. ‘You presented your position on the matter of who pays for what strongly enough that I naturally assumed there was no room for movement. You present your position on careers that require extensive travel with equal conviction, but again, I sense uncertainty as to why you consider them not to your liking. I leave on Wednesday. Sydney to mainland Malaysia, then a couple of regional flights to get to a little river city called Banjarmasin.’

      ‘I know it,’ she said flatly.

      ‘I’ve an interest in the conservation forests there.’

      Charlotte picked up her fork and cut into her pancake with the edge of it, deftly liberating a chunk before stabbing it with the end of her fork. She put it to her mouth, chewed, swallowed, and smiled. ‘I’m sure there’ll be plenty there to interest you.’

      ‘And to interest you?’

      ‘Well, the monkeys are very sweet,’ she murmured. ‘When do you need my answer by?’

      ‘No rush. Although some time before Wednesday, obviously.’ He sipped his coffee. ‘Anywhere you need to be today?’

      ‘Not really. I often spend Sunday afternoon