A Kirribilli Christmas Read online

  A loud crash of china sounded from the kitchen and a moan escaped her as they drew apart. A new wariness sat in her gaze. ‘I think we’d better go and check that out.’

  The party wound up soon after. Donna poured Gary into the car, strapped the kids in the back seat and drove off. Deb and Chloe followed, arguing loudly all the way down the hall and onto the street. And finally Sharon had collected the leftover chips and lollies, stuffed them back in her shopping bags and walked out, throwing a goodbye over her shoulder.

  So much for Christmas.

  There was nothing for it but to go to bed. Emotionally drained, Shelby went to her room, while Dan headed back down to the boat.

  As she lay there, with the sound of halyards clanking against masts down in the marina drifting in on the breeze, she let her thoughts wander over the events of the day. She thought about Gary and his annoying prodding, about Deb and Chloe and the serious discussion that was no doubt continuing. She thought about Sharon, poor, bitter Sharon. Despite everything, all the ribbing and sly looks, she’d take that any day over the way Nelson had made her feel when he’d handed her that ring.

  And finally, she thought about Dan and the kiss. It complicated things because there’d been a moment before he’d left when he’d looked as though he was going to kiss her again. She’d wanted him to but they were alone now and it wouldn’t have stopped at just a kiss.

  As the scent of frangipani drifted around her, she thought of tomorrow, Boxing Day. Dan was taking her out on the harbour in his boat to see the start of the Sydney to Hobart yacht race. She’d pretend nothing had happened, or that she’d forgotten. Or maybe if he raised it, act as though she was kissed like that every day. She turned over and tugged the pillow under her cheek.

  Just two more days and then it would be over.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  There was a lot of activity in Careening Cove but before long she caught sight of Dan on board an old yacht. To call it vintage would lend it a cachet it didn’t quite possess. Yet as she watched him step around the deck, fiddling with the mainsail, she realised it suited him. He wasn’t the type to have a luxurious modern yacht, even if he’d had the money.

  He looked up and saw her and she waved, walking along the dock towards him. As she approached her phone rang, with a particular tone that meant only one person. She glanced down at her bag and decided to ignore it, but as it continued to ring some ridiculous curiosity got the better of her. She fished it out of her bag and answered, hearing the familiar voice.

  ‘Hey, babe. Merry Christmas.’

  Was it? She reminded herself that it was still late Christmas Day in the States. Nelson sounded loaded.

  ‘Merry Christmas,’ she echoed, conscious that her vowels had slid across the Pacific and were back in LA.

  He didn’t wait for more but that wasn’t unusual. ‘Bet that ring is sparkling on your finger. Thinking of me?’ His voice oozed assurance, a sexy come-on that always worked. Now Shelby cringed a little and wished she hadn’t given in to that ridiculous urge to answer the call. She tried to picture tartan trousers.

  She was alongside the boat now. Dan’s legs were braced far apart as the boat rocked and he coiled rope, his arms strong as he wrapped the rope slowly hand over hand. She hadn’t thought of Nelson since she’d woken this morning so why had she answered? What sort of a fool was she?

  ‘Babe?’

  She dragged her attention back to the call. ‘Sure.’ She reached out and hauled those vowels right back to Australia.

  ‘Listen, my folks are heading to Paris this afternoon so I’m flying back to the Coast early. How about grabbing the next flight and coming home?’

  Home? He called what they had home? Her tiny apartment off Sunset that he never came to? She always went to his place in the Hills, but it wasn’t her home, he’d made that clear with numerous small indignities. Over the last thirty-six hours she’d started to reassess just where home was.

  ‘Um, I have some stuff happening here,’ she murmured.

  Stuff. The stuff she had was Dan. He leaned over and the fabric of his shorts stretched across his fabulous backside, leaving her dry-mouthed.

  ‘Babe?’

  She turned her back on Dan, trying to concentrate on the conversation. ‘You sent me to have Christmas. I’m having Christmas.’ She never disagreed with Nelson but now she let the edge of anger sit in her voice, but he didn’t notice and slid right past it.

  ‘That was yesterday. Christmas is over.’

  ‘It’s different here. Look, I’ve got to go. I’ll check the flights and call you later.’ She disconnected the call before he could say more, something she’d never done before and it gave her a grim satisfaction.

  She had no intention of checking flights, at least not today. She shoved the phone back in her bag and turned back towards the boat. Silently, in rubber-soled deck shoes, Dan had stepped onto the dock and was standing just behind her, his expression unreadable.

  Heat suffused her cheeks. Had he heard? His gaze swept over her but he said nothing, just held out a hand and steadied her as she stepped down into the yacht.

  The silence stretched as he jumped down after her. ‘I never knew you could sail.’ Shelby aimed for a conversational tone, anything to break the taut atmosphere.

  ‘There are a lot of things about me you don’t know.’ He left it at that as he clambered past her towards the bow. When he came back he gestured at a seat. ‘Good idea to sit down until I get us underway.’

  She decided to let it go and enjoyed watching him prepare to leave. His arms bunched as he raised the main sail and then he passed her, alluringly close, to head back to the stern to take the tiller.

  Shelby stretched her legs out, draped her arms along the railing and tipped her head back. It had been so long since she’d relaxed like this – old shorts with rolled cuffs, a loose top, and a slather of sunscreen. With every passing hour she was becoming more Sydney and less Rodeo Drive and it felt good.

  They sailed out past Kurraba Point towards the starting line, joining the flotilla of boats travelling down the harbour. The yacht bobbed as they encountered the wash from a large party boat.

  ‘You know, we never did this when we were kids,’ Shelby said.

  Dan sat by the tiller, manoeuvring it skilfully. ‘No.’

  ‘I mean, there we were, living right on the harbour but we never went out to see the race. I wonder why?’

  ‘No boat would be my guess.’

  Oh.

  His look softened then. ‘We just took it for granted. We could have organised it if we’d really wanted to but sometimes the things that are right under your nose are the things you miss.’

  She looked at him from under downcast lashes, assessing his words. Perhaps he was right.

  ‘It’s one of the best sights in Sydney. I do it every year.’ He slowed to allow another boat to cross his path.

  ‘By yourself?’ As soon as the words were out Shelby clamped her mouth shut, annoyed that he might think it mattered.

  ‘No, I always invite someone along. More fun that way.’

  He adjusted the tiller and the yacht slid to the left as Shelby waited for him to elaborate. But he’d either lost his train of thought or just didn’t want to go further. She shrugged but couldn’t help the surge of something approaching jealousy.

  The closer they got to the starting line the more boats surrounded them. A huge yacht swept past and Shelby’s eyes widened. ‘That’s Wild Oats!’ She’d seen the favourite’s name in the newspaper that morning.

  ‘Yes, amazing how you can get right in amongst them. It probably wouldn’t happen anywhere else in the world.’

  It seemed like every watercraft in Sydney was on the harbour, everything from the competing yachts themselves, their enormous mainsails catching the breeze as they sped through the water, to the sleek high-powered tenders that supported them, as well as ferries, motorboats and a couple of intrepid kids in tinnies that wove between the larger boats. Overhead, n
ews helicopters hovered as networks reported on the preparation for the race, the noise of their motors and blades adding to the excitement.

  ‘It’s incredible.’ She stood and grabbed the railing as the yacht tacked faster and a crowd of revellers from a passing cruiser waved to them.

  ‘We’ll sail to Shark Island and find a spot near the starting line. It takes a bit of jostling but we’re small enough to nip in between some of the bigger yachts and tuck in somewhere.’

  The wind lifted her hair, whipping it around her face, and Dan reached into the locker and tossed her a cap. ‘Here, put that on.’ It was old and battered, soft in the crown and with a rigid curved bill. She dragged her hair back and tugged it on, pleased. It was the sort of thing a couple who were totally comfortable together would do and she smiled.

  ‘There are drinks down below if you want.’

  Shelby shook her head. They continued to tack slowly down the harbour until they reached the starting position. They had to shift several times as larger boats moved in and blocked their view but each time Dan manoeuvred his boat into another position.

  He came and stood close to her then, their shoulders brushing as the boat bobbed on the waves. He pointed to the huge super maxis. ‘They’ll keep circling, trying to get right on the line for when the starting gun goes off. If they misjudge it, they have to go around the buoy again and risk not getting back to the starting line in time.’

  They stood in silence, watching the boats until a warning signal sounded. ‘That’s the five-minute warning,’ Dan murmured. The race yachts continued to jostle for position, trying to gauge the wind and how close to the line they could get without going over.

  Shelby gripped the rail, unaccountably excited. She slid a look at Dan and he looked down at the same time and smiled.

  ‘And there she goes!’ Dan shouted as a roar of approval went up around them.

  The yachts started to race, setting off down the harbour, and moments later Dan pushed past her, his hands gentle at her waist, to head back to the tiller.

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘We’ll follow them down Middle Harbour. They’ll put the spinnakers up when they pass the buoy at the heads and turn south. It’s worth seeing.’

  They joined the throng of boats doing the same thing, keeping the race yachts in sight until that magical moment they exited the harbour through the heads and, as they turned south and caught the wind, unfurled their great spinnakers. It was an inspiring sight and Shelby turned and caught Dan’s eyes on her. He’d sat down, with his arms clasped behind his head and long tanned legs thrust out in front of him. ‘It’ll take a while for them all to go. Just relax and enjoy it.’

  After all the boats had left the heads, he stood, took off the sunglasses and let them hang on the lanyard around his neck. ‘Did you bring swimmers?’

  When she nodded he added, ‘Okay, let’s head over to Reef Beach. It’s quiet and we can have a picnic. Unless you need to get back?’ He seemed to load the last sentence with just enough meaning to demand a reaction.

  Shelby paused for a long moment. She could go to Reef Beach with Dan, or back to the house and call the airline, but she was finding it hard to mount an argument for the latter. She met his gaze. ‘No, there’s not a thing in the world I need to hurry back for,’ she said clearly. ‘It sounds great to me.’

  In the end, Reef Beach wasn’t that quiet. It seemed that lots of others had had the same idea, which wasn’t surprising. Whilst the harbour had numerous small sandy beaches, there had been a lot of boats out today and everyone was still in party mode.

  Dan dropped anchor, stripped down to his trunks and jumped off the side of the boat into waist-deep water, then turned and held out his hands. Shelby sat on the edge of the boat wearing a bikini top and boy shorts, and swung her body around until her long tanned legs were dangling over the side. He paused a moment, trying to imprint this moment in his mind: her body slightly swaying with the gentle rocking of the boat, the arms braced either side that pushed her breasts together and those beautiful blue eyes looking down at him, seeming to say touch me. He held her gaze for several seconds before she inched forward and, lowering herself over the side, slipped slowly down the length of his body into his embrace as she entered the water. Her skin was hot from the sun, with a light floral fragrance, her bare waist tiny.

  He stifled a groan as he let go. To hold on now would be tempting but just a bit foolish given the conversation he’d overheard. It had reminded him that this was an interlude, nothing more.

  He nodded towards the beach. ‘Go on ahead. I’ll bring the basket.’

  He watched her splash through the water, emerging into the shallows like a golden sea goddess, the wet shorts revealing a toned backside. He sighed and pulled the picnic basket and their clothes from the side of the boat, hoisted them above his head and followed her.

  Golden sand lined the cove, with a broad sweep of grass behind, and beyond that, luxury homes sat on land rising back from the beach. Waves lapped gently on the shore as he stepped onto the beach and crunched across the sand to where Shelby was standing, watching a boy throw a ball to a large dog.

  She turned with a dreamy smile. ‘What a nice place to grow up.’

  He placed the basket on the sand then stood, hands on hips as he looked around. Water, boats, harbour. ‘It’s not that different to where we grew up.’

  She looked doubtful and he wondered, not for the first time, what version of her childhood she kept locked in her memory.

  They spread a blanket on the sand and Dan deposited the basket beside it. He dropped to his knees and pulled off the cover. ‘Okay, we have wine, glasses and . . .’ he pulled a plastic container from the basket, ‘crab sandwiches, thanks to Deb. First the wine.’

  He wished he could do this every day. Shelby leaned back on her elbows, her long legs stretched out as the wind whipped her hair from under the cap. He was glad she’d kept it on. It would remind him of her when she was gone, but he didn’t want to contemplate that now.

  He had just unscrewed the cap on the wine when he heard a voice.

  ‘Hey, Dan.’

  A middle-aged couple with a small terrier on a lead approached and Dan was on his feet in an instant, wiping his hand on the back of his shorts before offering it. ‘Hi, Rob.’ He shook the man’s hand and turned to the attractive woman beside him and pecked her on the cheek. ‘Hey, Jan, Merry Christmas. Didn’t know you guys lived out this way.’ He turned and indicated Shelby, still sitting on the rug. ‘This is Shelby.’

  ‘Hi. Nice to meet you.’ Shelby gave them a friendly wave.

  ‘Hi Shelby,’ Rob said. ‘You sound American. First time here?’

  No, I’m Australian, Shelby wanted to shout. I’m from here. This is where I grew up. It was one thing to turn your back on your hometown but for a stranger not to recognise that you belonged was a deep cut. After years of trying to perfect an American accent that would get her work in Hollywood, the irony wasn’t lost on her.

  ‘No, I’m Australian but I’ve been living in the States for six years,’ she said calmly.

  ‘Shelby’s my . . .’ Dan hesitated and Shelby cocked one eyebrow, waiting to see how he’d describe her. His foster mother’s daughter? For a fleeting second the word girlfriend flashed into her mind and in a moment of startling clarity she wished that it were true. Not Nelson. Dan.

  ‘. . . Good friend,’ he finished, smiling down at her. Shelby put the wine glasses down and scrambled to her feet.

  They chatted a little about the race, the beautiful day and how Christmas had gone.

  Finally, Rob turned to Dan. ‘Well, we’d better keep going. By the way, how’s the work coming along?’

  Dan shifted uneasily and hesitated. ‘Just another couple of weeks and it should be finished.’

  ‘Great. Give me a call when you’re ready. Are you going to have someone come in and stage it, or sell it empty?’

  Sell? Shelby turned her head to look at Dan. They were tal
king about the boat, weren’t they? She stared at Dan’s rigid jaw, his eyes that remained focussed on Rob. But they didn’t stage boats, so that couldn’t be right.

  ‘Um, empty I think.’

  ‘Whatever, it should go right off. It’s a prime location. Give us a call when you’re ready.’ They moved on, pulling the little dog away.

  Dan reached down to pick up the glasses and handed them to Shelby as though nothing had happened. She took them from him without thinking. ‘Ready for what?’

  He was still bent over, reaching for the wine now. ‘To sell. I’m selling the house.’ When he came upright he looked at her directly. ‘I was going to tell you this afternoon.’

  Shock coursed through her, followed by an inexplicable sense of loss. ‘You’re kidding. That’s the family home!’

  He raised one brow. ‘Since when have you ever cared about that?’

  ‘But I grew up there. It’s my home,’ she almost pleaded.

  ‘And haven’t been back in years. It’s a bit rough to protest now, Shelby. You can’t expect it to be there any time you feel like coming back.’ He was pouring the wine as though this was a normal everyday occurrence. ‘That’s why I’m doing the work and have cleared out most of the old stuff. It’s too big for one person.’

  ‘But —’

  He laid a gentle finger over her lips. ‘Besides, the rest of the family could use some help. Gary and Donna are struggling. Deb works like a navvy and everything she has is in that restaurant. Sharon could probably use the money to get therapy . . .’ He broke off, grinning. ‘Sorry, joking. Just not sure what floats her boat.

  ‘Look, it’s not about the house. It was generous of Kate to leave it to me but it has never sat comfortably with me. I’m going to give the guys a cut and buy something small up on the northern beaches. Nothing fancy, just a shack where I can surf and work from. There’s plenty of building work up there.’ His confident tone sagged as he saw that she was floored.