Harry St Clair: Rogue or Doctor? (2 page)

But there was that tiny worrying buzz that hummed somewhere near her stomach when she looked at him. The last time she’d been attracted this noticeably to a man it had ended in major disaster and she’d decided she truly enjoyed being single.

Which would be why her friends had practically forced her onto the plane to Denpasar. Hmm. Maybe she didn’t enjoy total isolation from all men all the time. Maybe she just needed a holiday flirtation to restore her self-esteem and a sense of balance?

‘I’m good for the bill.’ He glanced at his watch, a flash one, and she wondered if it was real or one of the ten-dollar fakes that were sold on every corner in Kuta. It looked real but then, so did he and she didn’t believe in him. And this hotel was nice but not expensive. Not a place for watches like his. Lots of things didn’t make sense.

He went on. ‘I’m starving. You look great. Don’t suppose you’d come as you are?’

He was way too pushy but she was hungry now, not sure where that appetite had come from. She glanced down at the halter-necked silk dress she’d picked up at the markets. It was cool, comfortable and matched the sequined slides she’d bought with it. Why change for a man she barely knew?

‘I’ll leave a note under the girls’ door.’ It didn’t hurt to pretend somebody cared where she went and with whom.

He nodded. ‘Great idea. In case we’re late.’

Cool green eyes met blue. ‘We won’t be late.’

Harry looked across at her and tried to figure it out. Every time he looked into her eyes he fell more deeply under her spell. And she was determined. It was her way or the highway and he respected that. But it would be good to settle why he’d been so affected by her and then get her out of his head. Note to self: not into his bed. Good plan.

Harry hoped she couldn’t see how amazed he was she’d agreed at all. He’d thought they’d imploded after she’d mentioned Clara but they’d come around again. He was ridiculously pleased about that. Maybe it was
just the fact he could talk to her and not feel he had to be someone he wasn’t. Not sure why that was either. ‘I’ll get a taxi, then, shall I?’

I
T SEEMED
Jimbaran Bay had become an institution like Kuta with a long strip of restaurants.

The beach lay stretched to the north of them with choose-your-fish and lobster tanks, flame-leaping barbecues and the biggest array of fresh seafood Bonnie had seen for years.

Then there were the hundreds of wooden tables spread across the sand almost down to the lapping water, each restaurant’s tables abutting each other as they squeezed side by side.

A pall of barbecue smoke lay over the parking area when the taxi dropped them off, people coming and going, taxis and private cars and even limousines jostling for space. And, of course, hundreds of motorbikes parked in orderly rows.

Bonnie gazed in awe at the confusion and choice. ‘How do you know which restaurant to eat in?’

‘Been before. I have my favourite and they’ll save a good table for me.’ Harry watched her drink it in. Her pleasure made him look again, inhale the smoke, hear the chatter between the competing restaurants, and recognise some of the reasons he seemed to end up here when he came down to this end of Bali.

But most of his unusual lightness of heart seemed to be emanating from being with the woman at his side. Strange, that.

She walked with him down the concrete passage between two vying shopfronts and he could feel her presence near his hip like a little force-field of energy reacting with him. Swirls of awareness prickled like the sprays of loose sand that flicked off their shoes as they walked.

When they hit the beach the sun had well and truly gone, a darkening silhouette of a fishing boat glided out on the waves as the candles flared into life along the tables. Darkness fell softly, like one of those cashmere pashminas the women wore here. He heard her sigh out a little more tension from those militant shoulders and it made him feel good.

Bonnie felt herself relax as she looked around. This was different. Time out of the real world, maybe because of the semidarkness. She could get used to eating in the dark on a beach too. It was so unlike her to come with a stranger but there were enough people to keep her safe here and she could always catch her own taxi home. And suddenly it felt fun to be out with a good-looking man for an uncomplicated dinner. Her friends would be very proud of her.

They crunched through the sand all the way down to the water’s edge. Bonnie glanced at couples and families and noisy groups of tourists all munching and laughing in groups as they passed.

To her delight every table had at least one person sucking milk from a coconut through a straw. The cheerful mood lifted her spirits even higher. She used to be
a happy person and it was nice to glimpse a little joy again.

Finally their waiter stopped at a table. It wasn’t quite in the water but there was no one in front to obscure the last of the glow on the horizon. She stood for a moment and just gazed out over the waves. Definitely a cool place to have dinner.

Harry beat the waiter to her chair and pulled it out for her. ‘Your throne, madam.’

She could feel the hairs on her arms respond to his nearness. Visceral response. Pheromones. This wasn’t good. She wanted flirtation, not irreversible fascination. Please, not that sort of happy. Her eyes met his and she didn’t smile. ‘I’m your dinner partner, not your date.’

Snap. Reality bit. Harry was silent as he sat down and then picked up his fork to examine it. Carefully—while he let her words sink in. Nice fork. Silver with three tines. Not much of interest there. ‘Got it. No chairs held. And I’ll have no deep and meaningful conversations from you either,’ he joked, but there was an underlying truth in his words.

He glanced up and caught the fiercely guarded expression on her face. She was as bad as him. Funny how he’d never realised how bad he was. ‘What about car doors? Did that offend you?’ He saw her face tighten even more.

She closed her eyes and held up her hands and he could foresee the moment when she’d say she shouldn’t have come.

Panic flared in her eyes and he cursed his stupidity.

Some bloke had done a doozy on her. Oops, he thought, but didn’t say it out loud. He accepted the message
and tapped the table so she looked at him. He tried selling his smile again. ‘I’m sorry.’

That was when he realised he didn’t know her name. Pleasant and non-threatening dinner conversation coming up. ‘I really don’t want to eat alone. But what shall I call you?’

Bonnie forced herself to calm down. Panic weakened defences and that was the last thing she wanted. Her name? Now, there was a dilemma. She had this stupid urge to make up a name, something wildly outrageous that he’d know wasn’t real, so it didn’t cause problems but would maintain distance in case she needed more space than he was willing to give.

Brain vacuum didn’t help. ‘Bonnie.’

‘So tell me, Bonnie …’ He paused and she smiled to herself because it was plain he didn’t believe that really was her name. Delicious.

‘Are you in Bali long?’ He sat back in his chair with a little smile curving his lips. Good grief, he had gorgeous lips.

She blinked. ‘A week. Then I start a new job.’

‘So what’s your new job?’ When he leaned back his shirt stretched over his chest and her mouth dried.

She tried to unobtrusively rustle up some saliva so she could answer. ‘Outreach nursing, at Ayers Rock. I’m a registered nurse and midwife and do short stints in isolated places.’

A strange expression crossed his face so fast she couldn’t guess the cause. Interesting but he didn’t explain it. Just nodded.

Blimey. Talk about danger, Harry thought. The same place as the job he’d declined. And too close to a town
he wanted to forget. His wife had been a midwife, they’d met at Katherine when he’d worked for the RFDS. Fate was out to smack him apparently.

When he changed the subject she didn’t seem to notice. Thank goodness. He’d already said he only wanted a dinner partner, which apparently suited her fine.

Back to discussing her might be safer. ‘So what have you done here in paradise you wouldn’t have done at home?’

She gestured to the beach in front of them. ‘Apart from dining with a man I don’t know, you mean?’

He wasn’t silly enough to fall into the trap. ‘Hmm.’

She shrugged. ‘Nothing, really. Swam, but I did that in Darwin, shopped at markets and watched the sunset over the ocean, but we do that at Mindil on Thursdays and Sundays in Darwin too.’

He watched her think about it. Her thoughts may as well have been typed up on a screen. It was amusing how transparent she was and he found it delightfully refreshing. ‘While I’m here I’d like to see some of the countryside. The terraced rice fields and a volcano—none of those where I come from.’

He nodded. He’d found a topic. ‘So you should do the bike ride from Agung.’

He could tell she’d vaguely heard of it but couldn’t place it. ‘And that would be …?’

He gestured loosely in the direction of Kuta. ‘Up in the mountains, a couple of hours’ drive, well worth it. The bike ride’s about twenty-five kilometres long.’

‘Probably not happening, then.’ She shrugged. ‘I haven’t ridden a bike for ten years.’ She laughed at the
thought. ‘That’d be a sight. I wouldn’t be able to stand up after.’

Bonnie tried not to get sucked under his spell but his smile was infecting her. Flashing like a beam over the waves when she least expected to see it in the gloom and made her think of the lighthouse again. He sat forward a little, leaning towards her in an effort to enthuse her. ‘The ride’s all downhill. Through villages, rice fields, over a river. You’d love it.’

She only had a few days left. She doubted she’d organise herself enough for that. ‘I don’t think bike riding’s on my list.’

She watched him frown. ‘Sure it is. If you’re up for it, let me know. I have great contacts.’

She’d love it but she didn’t need his help. Or his company. One night of exposure and flirtation was enough to start with and this guy was just too potent for a bruised heart like hers. ‘I’ll see what the girls say.’ They’d probably ask how many men were going. But she wasn’t debunking the myth that she had protection.

Thankfully it seemed he’d accepted she wouldn’t be pinned to a decision. ‘So what else would you like to do while on beautiful Bali?’

Well, she knew she didn’t want to talk about herself. Never had really. ‘How about you tell me what you’re going to do. How long you’re here for?’

He raised his dark brows and smiled. ‘So bossy,’ he said. She wished.

Then, as if vaguely surprised at himself, he did answer her. ‘I’m here indefinitely. There’s a house up in Ubud. My mother lived there a few months every year. I’ve been visiting for a while.’

Real watch evidently. ‘Wow. And I’m guessing you have servants and everything.’ Even she could hear the reverse snobbery in her voice. Where had that come from?

He tilted his head and she guessed he’d heard it too. ‘There’s a family that maintain the buildings, yes. Have done for fifty years. Ketut and his wife have looked after my mother and she looked after them. But like family—not servants. You have a problem with that?’

Of course she didn’t. And the idea of extra family was a sweet one. She’d be happy to have a distant aunt, let alone a Balinese family looking after her. No reason on earth why she should mind except to wonder why he wanted to waste his time with her. ‘No. I’m sorry. I keep putting my foot in it with you—not sure why. It’s not common for me.’

‘Maybe it’s because I keep you off balance.’ He grinned. ‘But, then, that’s not nice for a platonic friend so I’ll apologise too.’ He glanced down at the menu. ‘We’d better order before it’s too dark for you to see what you’re eating.’

Now her hunger seemed to have soaked into the sand under her feet and she wished she could follow it. Who was out of practice as a relaxed dinner companion? ‘What are you having?’

He put the menu back on the table. ‘I’ll do the set plate with lots of seafood and a side salad.’

She couldn’t even read the menu in the dark. ‘Sounds good.’

He sat straighter and glanced around. ‘You get a drink with it. Have you tried the local beer? It’s very light.’

She’d seen it advertised everywhere. ‘No, but bought the T-shirt.’

He grinned and signalled the waiter, who appeared like magic. ‘We’ll have two Jimbaran specials, two beers and a coconut drink, please.’

Obviously she’d been blatant with her curiosity about the coconuts. But it was nice he’d seen her interest. Or was it? She’d need to watch this man. He was unobtrusively delightful.

The waiter produced two beers from his passing friend, set them down and departed with a big white smile. Harry handed one over to her. Then he carried on the conversation as if there’d been no break.

‘Those T-shirts are the most common exports with tourists. Hope you didn’t pay more than twenty thousand rupees for it.’

So he was focused. She’d need to watch that too, but she’d been dying to talk to someone about this.

She tapped her glass with her fingernail. ‘I have issues with bartering. I can see the Balinese enjoy it, but I’d prefer just to buy the darn thing without the hassle. I find it very stressful to pretend I’m offended at the price.’

He took a sip and when he didn’t answer, she decided to copy him. A tentative sip. The drink was light, still beery and she wasn’t that much of a fan, but it was cold and wet and felt wonderful going down.

Then he said, ‘Wimp,’ and she nearly choked. He grinned and went on. ‘Barter is fun. It’s part of Balinese culture, like mental gymnastics. Good bargaining can make a huge difference to a family wage if they’re lucky.
But the experience should never be unpleasant or too pushy.’

‘Yeah, well. I’m such a sucker.’ She sighed. ‘What do you do when people look sad and you feel guilty you haven’t bought anything?’

‘You smile.’ He grinned and showed her how. If he smiled at someone like that they’d probably give him the thing, she thought. Free.

He went on. ‘It’s the secret of Bali. Smile and mean it. For bargaining, if they start at fifty thousand rupees, you offer twenty-five. They’ll look horrified, you smile and they’ll smile and counter with forty. Then you say thirty and they’ll take thirty-five. It’s always good to aim for about five thousand under what you want to pay so the seller wins. It’s good luck for the seller and we can all do with that.’

Not an accurate picture of barter when she was involved. She tended to wilt at the first horror and fake accusation. ‘Forty-nine thousand would be a good barter for me. That sounds easy but it’s not.’

The light from the candle flickered across his face. He shook his head and she decided he didn’t have a bad angle she could concentrate on. ‘That’s because you’re thinking personal. It’s not personal. When it all boils down to it, if you want something, think about what you’d pay for it and be happy. Then change what they’re asking into your currency and you’ll see you still have a bargain. Carry a printed version of your dollar versus their currency. It’s simpler to remember that way.’

She wasn’t sure she was ever going to enjoy bargaining but maybe she’d give it a go with a little more enthusiasm. She could write out a conversion table. ‘Okay.’

Or maybe she hadn’t sounded as convinced as she’d thought because he said, ‘Or look for fixed-price shops. There’s always one around and then you’ll get a fair price, not quite as cheap but they’ll take out the wild swings when someone really good reels you in.’

She glanced at his confident face. ‘I bet you don’t get reeled in.’

‘Not often. By the Balinese anyway.’ There was an added nuance she didn’t want to identify and thankfully their food arrived.

By this time it was darker, and even though her eyes had adjusted, the candle gave off small circles of light that didn’t include the platter beside her. The waiter brought two more tiny candlelights but she still couldn’t see what she was eating. ‘So this is a taste sensation, not a visual one?’

He laughed, deep and amused, and she felt like a trickle of that cool sand under her feet had slid down her back and along her arms. Well, she was on a beach. It was okay. But she had a strong premonition there was more trickling sand to come.