Four Weddings. Fiona Lowe

‘She’s still working as a kinder assistant to get her fix. Dad teases her but he’s just as bad. He enjoys teaching some of the wayward kids woodwork and he gets them down in the milking shed, mucking out. He reckons there’s nothing quite like getting kids working with animals to help them see the world in a new light.’

      Bec’s expression took on a dreamy look. ‘I bet your mum baked cakes and helped out in the classroom.’ Her voice suddenly dropped in volume. ‘And your dad watched you play sport, and insisted on teaching you how to change the tractor oil.’

      Somehow she made the ordinary, everyday things of his childhood sound extraordinary. An incredibly clear image of his dad suddenly projected itself into his memory—Dad walking into the kitchen from the milking shed, a broad smile on his weather-beaten face, a billy of creamy milk in one hand and his other hand raised in greeting. An unexpected wave of homesickness rolled through him.

      The boat dropped anchor, the rumble of the chain loud in the silence.

      ‘Tom, you avoided answering my question.’

      Her firm voice broke into his thoughts. She’d pinned him down and he knew her well enough now to know it was easier to just answer. He shrugged. ‘I don’t know if I’ll have kids. I have no medical history so I could be passing on a genetic illness.’

      Her violet eyes flashed with disbelief. ‘You’re not serious?’

      He kept his voice steady, belying the ire that streaked through him. ‘Why wouldn’t I be serious?’

      Concentration lines appeared on the bridge of her nose. ‘I understand that as an adoptee you have no idea of your parents’ medical history, but many of us don’t have much of a clue. My mother died when I was too young to have asked the questions and I was estranged from my father. My aunt has some idea but I have a black hole on my father’s side.’

      ‘And doesn’t it worry you that you could carry a predisposition to a genetic illness?’ He folded him arms across his chest.

      ‘Doesn’t it worry you that this boat could sink right now?’

      ‘That’s hardly a comparison.’ He heard his ‘I’m the doctor, I know best’ tone. The one that made his mother purse her lips.

      Bec raised her brows and matched his crossed-arms stance. ‘Yes, it is. You’re saying you want certainty but nothing is certain in life. This boat could sink on this trip but you took the trip anyway.’

      Her logic chafed like prickly heat. ‘Right, so your decision not to have children based on not risking a relationship is more valid than mine based on a lack of scientific data.’

      A tremor of tension raced across her shoulders. ‘I think you’re living your life based on facts, and facts don’t always give the true picture. What about the fact you could be giving a child the most wonderful grandparents?’

      Frustration bubbled in his veins. He spun away from her. ‘Don’t romanticise my childhood.’

      ‘Why not? From where I’m standing, it sounds pretty good to me.’

      Her words tore at him. Her childhood had been far from good. He turned back. She stood small and determined, her chin jutting forward, her lips plump and firm and her breasts straining against her shirt.

      All his indignation fled.

      The need to protect clashed with the need to haul her against him and kiss her senseless. Think friendship. ‘We’re spending the day in one of the most beautiful places in the world so why are we disagreeing?’

      She wrinkled her nose. ‘You’re right.’

      He feigned surprise. ‘Can I have that in writing?’

      She rolled her eyes. ‘No such luck, but I will concede that Halong Bay deserves nothing less than harmony and understanding.’

      ‘And swimming.’ They needed to have some fun and put their differences aside. ‘The crew have taken a picnic over to that little beach you can see. They’ve left food, towels and kayaks. We’ve got a few hours while they take a siesta here on the boat.’ As he pulled his T-shirt over his head, he talked through the fabric. ‘It’s a tradition to enter the water from the deck of the boat and swim to the beach.’

      He raised his head as he dropped the shirt to the deck. Eyes like large purple pools met his gaze, backlit with swirling emotions.

      His solar plexus took a hit. Raw, intense need pounded him as he glimpsed desire emerging from the swirl in her eyes.

      She swallowed as a flare of fear darkened her eyes.

      Fool. ‘Can’t you swim?’

      She shook her head. ‘Oh, no, I can swim. I’m a good Aussie girl and was dispatched to swimming lessons from the age of five.’

      ‘Great.’ He gave her a reassuring smile. ‘Well, there’s no need to be scared of the jump. I’ll go first and demonstrate.’ He climbed quickly to the highest point wanting to kick himself that he’d even thought he’d seen desire in her gaze. It had just been fear at the thought of jumping from the deck of a boat into the water.

       She’s your friend. Nothing more, nothing less.

      With an almighty whoop he freed his mind from the jumble of clashing emotions and jumped off the boat. Clutching his knees, he embraced the four-metre drop, bombing into the clear water below.

      Salty water encased him, the exhilaration of the jump propelling him again to the surface. He pushed his arms forward and swam around the boat, using the exercise to put his libido back in its box. He rounded the stern and looked up.

      Bec stood at the highest point of the boat. Two tiny pieces of blue and pink Lycra were moulded to her body, concealing little and emphasising every delicious curve and contour.

      Blood raced around his body. Suddenly the water wasn’t anywhere near cold enough.

      For weeks she’d hidden her lithe body under baggy trousers and blouses, leaving everything to his imagination. His imagination had failed to do her justice.

      Her voice called out, ‘What’s the water like?’

      ‘Fine.’ Had his voice sounded strangled?

      ‘So I just jump?’ She peered over the side, nibbling her bottom lip.

      His blood pounded faster. Impossibly, even more blood surged to his groin. ‘Yep, it doesn’t matter that you can’t dive, just jump. It’s great fun and there’s nothing to be afraid of. Enjoy the leap, it’s quite cathartic.’ He spread his arms out. ‘I’m right here when you land and I promise I’ll protect you from any lurking dragons.’

      ‘OK.’ She elongated the word, her hesitancy clear as her voice trailed off. Leaning forward, she extended her arms high above her head, the action pushing her breasts up and out against the flimsy Lycra.

      He gave an internal groan.

      She flexed her legs and, rising up on her toes, pushed off the deck, executing a perfect dive.

      Mesmerised, he watched her taut hands slice through the water, her body following in superb fluid motion, the dive ending with the tiniest flick of water as her toes disappeared under the surface.

      Incredulity tangoed with delight. She continued to amaze him in every way. Who would have thought she could dive like a professional?

      Kicking up, she broke the surface, teasing devilment on her face. ‘Good dive, was it?’

      ‘You rotter.’ He splashed her and tried to sound indignant as laughter shook him. ‘Here I was being all chivalrous, a knight in shining armour, promising to slay dragons and rescue you if you needed it, and you took advantage of my good nature.’

      She grinned. ‘Sorry, I couldn’t resist it. I also had years of diving lessons. I shall restore your honour.’ She flailed her arms about and slipped back under the