Mango Kisses (23 page)

‘Yes. I can go through it with you now if you like.’

Miles suddenly didn’t want to know. A small niggling unpleasant idea brewed in the back of his mind that he was frightened of what she was about to tell him. Or was it alcohol induced paranoia?

‘Like a beer?’ He headed for the fridge.

‘Juice, please.’

Money wasn’t important to him. He valued his contentment and his health more. Being able to wake up in the morning and walk on that fabulous beach and see the sunrise, swim in the crisp clean ocean, have a drink with his friends in the pub — priceless.

His mother had taught him those things.

‘Have you got a girlfriend?’

Miles nearly dropped the carton of orange juice he was holding. Tiffany was leaning on the doorframe with a little smile on her face.

She walked forward to take the juice from his hand and fill her glass.

‘No, not at the moment. You know I haven’t,’ he stuttered. He took a quick swig from his stubbie of beer. Where on earth had that come from?

‘Why not?’

‘She married someone else.’

‘Sorry,’ she said with a quick grimace. A flush stained her cheeks.

‘I didn’t mind much,’ he said swiftly. ‘I mean I did at the time but she wanted to get married and I didn’t so she found someone who did. What about you?’

‘Last one was Charles. He told me he’d fallen in love with a cello player. I think we were too alike.’ She didn’t elaborate, simply turned and went back to the table. ‘Come here and let’s get this finished.’

Miles followed reluctantly.

‘Why do I feel as though I’m going to hear something cataclysmic?’ His tight little laugh stuck in his throat. ‘Stupid.’

‘It is,’ she said. ‘You’re not in any trouble, believe me. Far from it.’

He pulled out the chair she indicated and sat beside her.

Now! He had to tell her now how he felt before she started in with the professional numbers stuff and became even more aloof than she already was. That stop off in the pub had either boosted his courage or dulled his survival instinct, but if he didn’t speak he’d lose her.

‘Tiffany, I need to tell you something.’

‘Yes?’ She picked up a pencil to scribble a few words on one of the pages.

‘I think I’m falling in love with you,’ he murmured and held his breath. Had he slurred the words? Did she understand what he’d said? ‘Have fallen in love with you,’ he amended louder and clearer.

She froze. The pencil hovered over the paper and she stared at what she’d written for endless seconds. He waited and cursed himself for blurting it out so bluntly and in such an unromantic place. And he probably, make that definitely, smelled of beer. She was about to give him the big brush off.

‘You hardly know me,’ she said in a strained voice without lifting her eyes from the paper.

‘Doesn’t change what I feel,’ he said, encouraged by the lack of outrage or a slap in the face.

She glanced at him then dropped her gaze again. ‘Love is a strong word.’

‘Yes.’

‘You’d probably change your mind if you got to know me better.’

‘Can I? Get to know you better?’ He shuffled forward on the chair so that his face was inches from her cheek. He was rewarded by a slowly rising tide of pink and a tiny smile creasing the corner of her mouth. ‘You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve seen in my life. I thought so right from the first moment I saw you on the beach that day.’

‘Did you?’ she murmured. The smile increased.

‘I couldn’t believe it when you were in that class.’ He nuzzled her cheek gently and deposited a kiss, followed by another and another slowly working his way to her lips. His hand stole up to her neck and turned her head slowly towards his.

She didn’t resist but she said softly against his mouth, ‘Did you think I was pathetic signing up for it?’

‘No, of course not. I meant I couldn’t believe how lucky I was.’

‘I couldn’t believe it either, that you were there,’ she said but she couldn’t say any more because Miles stopped her talking by putting into practice everything he’d learned at Fiorella’s plus some improvisations of his own.

And Tiffany went with him. She tasted of orange juice, fresh and sweet and she’d learned her lessons well. He drew her closer, he wanted all of her right there. She sighed softly and he moaned at the complete and utter delight of her surrender. Unbelievable. His fingers strayed to her breasts, exploring greedily, seeking naked skin. She drew away, breath coming fast and hard, skin flushed.

He couldn’t bear the separation. ‘Tiffany,’ he whispered urgently. ‘I want to make love to you.’

She stroked his cheek with fingers hot to the touch and he saw the same desire in her eyes as was pulsing in his blood. ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘I can’t do that. I...’

He smothered her reply in another soul-searing kiss, but even though she didn’t shove him away he knew she wasn’t responding the same way as before. He’d pushed her too hard, too fast. She hadn’t said anything about how she felt.

‘It’s all right,’ he said quickly when she looked at him with a little girl’s worried expression. ‘Just tell me you feel the same way about me.’

She nodded and he had to kiss her again from relief and then sit back on his chair to regain a semblance of control. He found and kept tight hold of her hands.

Tiffany drew a deep breath. ‘Now I have to tell you something, Miles. Remember that secret?’

‘Don’t tell me you’re married?’ he cried in alarm.

‘No.’ She laughed.

‘A man? No, you’re definitely not a man,’ he said and she laughed again and his heart leaped to see the happiness in her face.

‘It’s nothing to do with me. It’s about you. This.’ She pulled one hand from his grasp and waved the papers at him. ‘I’ve gone through and identified everything your father owned. You already know about two bank accounts but he had more — a couple of high yield investment accounts. He was a very cluey businessman.’ Admiration shone from her face.

‘So I’m richer than I thought.’ He let go her other hand. Talk about a passion killerbut she was excited as could be, more so than about his declaration of love. More money? What on earth would he do with more money? Give it away? He could donate to that hospice his mother had ended up in. They could certainly do with some cash.

Tiffany’s eyes lit up at this mild show of interest. She drew her chair in to the table and picked up the pencil. His kisses couldn’t compete with his dollars.

‘Look.’ She pointed to the first page. ‘He owned a commercial block in Brisbane. Not a big one but in an area that’s skyrocketed in value over the last ten years. I contacted the agent and he values it at, conservatively, close to five million dollars. The exact breakdown of figures is here.’ She turned the page, oblivious to his stunned silence. Five million?
Million
? ‘He owned three houses in Noosa. They come in at about a million and a half. This is, of course, if you cashed it all in, which I wouldn’t advise at the moment because the yearly income is quite substantial. You could live off it; your father did. He also had a very nice share portfolio. As of today’s market figures that’s worth a cool four and a half million, but of course is subject to fluctuations in the economy.’

Tiffany turned two pages and continued, ‘He — whoops — sorry,
you
own ten units in Burleigh Heads — again a very good investment and another two in Surfer’s Paradise. The agent told me your father was negotiating a deal for four more but died before the transaction was completed. Pity.’

She turned to the last page. ‘So...I’ve calculated the value of all your assets at today’s market prices and if you were to cash everything in it would come to this. Give or take a few dollars, and sundry cents.’

Miles leaned forward to stare blankly at the figure she was pointing at. He looked and looked again but the long row of numbers made no sense whatsoever.

The first two were a one and an eight but after that there were too many for him to take in.

Tiffany must have finally realised the effect she’d had on him because she took his hand in both of hers and squeezed it hard. ‘You’re a multi-millionaire, Miles.’ She was almost bouncing in her chair. ‘Isn’t that fantastic? I nearly burst with excitement when I figured out that total. I’ve never dealt with such an enormous sum from such an extraordinary source — cardboard boxes of all things!’

She gazed at him for a moment. ‘You’ll be able to do whatever you want, go wherever you want. You don’t have to stay here running that shop, you can close up and live in one of your units in Brisbane. Or travel. Money brings such freedom.’

Miles stared at her. Freedom? ‘Nothing’s free. It didn’t bring my father any freedom,’ he said bitterly. ‘And it didn’t bring him much happiness either. I’d trade all these millions to have known him when I was growing up. And I like living here in this house. I like my shop even though you think it’s pretty hopeless. I like my life the way it is.’

Tiffany stood up, her expression blank, a professional mask. ‘The way it
was
, Miles,’ she said. ‘Your life won’t be the same any more. You have responsibilities now whether you want them or not.’

He leapt to his feet, dashing the papers to the floor as if that would rid him of the loathsome burden.
The pox of money.
Too much money. Disgusting and obscene amounts of money. ‘Not! I don’t want them. I don’t want all that money and all that property. I hate that sort of life.’

Her expression didn’t change. A cool, calm mask. ‘That’s your decision. If you want to sell, the agents’ names are in there. If you want financial advice you can contact us again or find another firm if you prefer.’

She swung her handbag over her shoulder and picked up the laptop.

‘Where are you going?’ he demanded.

‘To the motel.’

‘Stay here.’

‘I want to go, Miles, I’ve been here since nine, remember?’ Miss Supercool. She’d transformed before his very eyes.

‘I’ll walk with you.’

‘No, don’t. I think you need some time alone to absorb all this. I’m tired.’

She turned and marched away down the hall to the front door. He strode after her and gripped her by the upper arms, spinning her to face him. ‘I meant what I said.’

She gazed at him for a moment but he kissed her before she could summon up a response. It seemed to him Tiffany returned his kiss as though she meant it but she didn’t let him linger and increase the passion. She drew away, smiled one of her stiff, awkward smiles that hurt like a knife to the heart, adjusted the laptop under her arm so that she could open the door, and walked out.

‘Goodbye,’ she said. He stared at her back, considering the wisdom of creating a scene for elderly Betsy, who was across the road watering her dahlias. Tiffany wouldn’t appreciate it.

Miles closed the door and slumped against it. He felt like going back to the pub and getting well and truly pissed.

Chapter Twelve

Tiffany called in at Xanthi’s to order fish and chips for the last time. She wandered across the road and waited on the bench overlooking the beach. The smooth green painted wood was warm to the touch. A breeze blew the smell of salt water in from the vastness of the sea. There was something soothing, primal about that scent. Several gulls eyed her hopefully but darted away on thin red legs when she sat unmoving and empty-handed.

What had Miles meant when he said, ‘I meant what I said?’ Did he mean he was falling in love with her or did he mean he didn’t want the money?

‘I think I’m falling in love with you.’ A thunderbolt, a cloudburst, a tidal wave of emotion swamped every nerve ending in her body. For one exhilarating moment she soared. All her dreams come true. The sexiest, most gorgeous, perfect man said he thought he might love her, Tiffany Holland, the brainiest, most conservative, career-driven, repressed, dull girl of all. He said words she’d longed to hear and thought she never would hear from him, or a man like him.

Miles had said them to her. She so wanted them to be true. Except he was obviously half drunk and couldn’t wait to get her into bed — not exactly the romantic expression of everlasting love she’d fantasised about. What would have happened afterwards didn’t bear thinking about: Tiffany even deeper in love; Miles with politely hidden regrets, thinking
How can I get out of this, what the hell have I done? That was a waste of time.

Humiliating.

And the rest of the discussion had confirmed what she knew all along. They came from two different worlds, incompatible worlds. But she had the memory of his kisses to take home with her, and at least she’d had the benefit of the kissing course so she hadn’t made a complete ninny of herself.

Tiffany stretched her legs out in the late afternoon sun, still warm, despite the lengthening shadows. The waves rolled in lazily and dragged themselves out. Several straggling families packed up their belongings and trudged along the beach in the direction of the campground. Peaceful and serene. She’d miss it. Despite all the emotional upheaval that had occurred in this tranquil setting, Birrigai had exerted a curious hold over her. Leaving the town would be as hard as leaving Miles but perhaps it was just end-of-holidayitis, her reluctance to resume the daily regime of work, travel and solo living.

People were open and friendly here: Jim and Sharon, Fiorella, Xanthi, Fleur — and Miles, in spite of everything — if only she hadn’t messed it up by falling for him and being naïve and silly when he tried to sleep with her. Marianne had effortlessly had a good time.

She sprang to her feet as a surge of rage at Marianne’s glib statements about her family coursed through her body. How dare she make those assessments? She knew nothing about anything, and least of all the intricacies of Holland family relationships.

Tiffany marched across the road but the anger faded as she saw Jim and Sharon’s vegetable shop still open. She should say goodbye. They’d become friends without even trying. Their comfortable mutual respect and goodwill had developed after her initial spontaneous and ill-considered assumptions based on their appearance. It had all been so natural and easy. Why was it so difficult with Miles?

Sharon was moving vegetable baskets from the footpath, getting ready to close up for the night.