'The Brown Brothers Chardonnay,' Nick answered without even glancing at the wine list. He smiled at Barbie. 'If that's all right with you.'

'Fine,' she quickly replied, though the Brown Brothers were a complete mystery to her. She and Sue bought wine in a cask from the supermarket. 'I won't be drinking much,' she warned. 'I'm driving.'

'I understand,' he replied, not voicing even the slightest protest or showing a trace of frustration.

Which relieved Barbie's inner turmoil over the bed and breakfast agenda. If seduction had been on Nick's mind, he would surely have said something like, 'A gla.s.s or two won't hurt.'

The waiter collected the menus they hadn't even glanced at, and departed, leaving them to themselves again. Relieved to have the meal-ordering over and done with, Barbie could once more think about what had transpired before the interruption.

She wished she could ask Nick what it was he felt, but decided it was up to him to continue the conversation. It might appear too forward, too anxious, to pursue it herself.

'Would you like some iced water?' he asked, picking up the jug on the table.

'Yes, please.'

He filled a gla.s.s for her, adding to the impression he would respect her wishes about the wine-drinking and not try to push her into doing anything she didn't really want. It served to make Barbie feel more comfortable with the situation, certainly less tense about his motives for pursuing a relationship with her.

They sat back, studying each other, a.s.sessing where they were now. Nick looked satisfied, content for them simply to be together like this. He wore self-a.s.surance as though it were ingrained, which it probably was, given the success he'd made of his business.

Maybe he'd always had it, an innate part of his character, Barbie thought, remembering how he'd been a natural leader even when they were children in the old Wamberal neighbourhood. Everyone had taken notice of what Nick suggested, what Nick decided, what Nick did. He created games. He was clever and brave and exciting to be with.

Was this just another exciting game to him?

Give us a chance. You and me.

It was silly to let doubts and fears get in the way.

You and me... magic words.

Even this much was a wish come true. She had to try for more, wherever it led.

Occupied with her inner thoughts, she hadn't noticed his expression change until he spoke. His words instantly shattered any peace of mind Barbie had attained.

'You remind me of someone I once knew.'

Light, musing words, but she caught the tension in his stillness, the concentrated weighing in his eyes, and an iron fist squeezed her heart.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

NICK saw the shock hit her...the tightening of her face, the flare of angst in her eyes, the swift struggle for control...and any possible doubt was wiped from his mind.

Anne Shepherd was Barbie Lamb.

He should have put it together sooner-the deep-down sense of knowing her, the physical instincts she triggered, the intensity of feeling she projected, the pa.s.sion, Sue Olsen calling her Barbie.

The pa.s.sage of so many years had pushed his memory of her into the far background and the physical changes wrought by those same years had dazzled his vision. On top of which, the circ.u.mstances of their meeting again hadn't helped him see straight. But he was seeing straight now and he knew he was about to walk a tightrope where the wrong step might well mean death to any hope of the relationship he wanted with her.

He had to know what she was thinking, feeling, whether he had a real chance with her. Bad history, Leon had said, and he'd been spot-on. Except the bad history, in this case, was personal to him, not some anonymous rich guy. He was the one who had inflicted the hurt that needed soothing.

Her lashes swept down, veiling her telltale eyes as she leaned forward and picked up her gla.s.s of water, playing for time, struggling for composure. Her hand shook, lifting the gla.s.s to her lips. He watched the convulsive movement of her throat as she sipped, and knew she felt sick, as sick as he did at what he had done to her, while telling himself it was for the best.

He didn't need to be told why she'd played the fairy princess as she had to him...the burning desire to interest and excite, to make him wish for what he had rejected, to tantalise him with the promise of it, then walk away. Was tonight about teasing him more before she slapped him in the face with it? When she put that gla.s.s down, would she be Barbie Lamb or Anne Shepherd?

Barbie sipped the iced water, using the gla.s.s to hide her face and its contents to cool the fever of uncertainties that gripped her. Was he beginning to recognise her? Reminding him of someone was not positive identification, she sternly told herself, forcing down the sick, panicky feeling. It might not be Barbie Lamb he was thinking of at all.

Everything within her recoiled from confronting the past. Not yet, her heart screamed. She couldn't bear it. She had to have this chance with him, free and clear of spoiling memories. Play for more time, need dictated. He couldn't know for certain who she was.

Feeling slightly more composed, she lowered the gla.s.s and attempted a wry little smile. 'I'm not sure any woman likes to be told that.'

He was silent for a moment, seemingly slow in digesting the comment. Her nerves jangled, fear whispering he'd been waiting for some admission. Then to her intense relief he laughed and shook his head. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, his eyes bathing her with warm rea.s.surance as he answered her.

'I wasn't comparing. You shine alone, Anne. Believe me, I feel incredibly lucky that our paths have crossed.'

The fear of recognition receded. Her smile relaxed into pleasure at his compliment. 'Then how do I remind you of someone?' she teased, confident now that he hadn't made the connection.

'It's the eyes,' he said, nodding in confirmation of his observation as he looked directly at them. 'Such a clear light grey. Mostly there's a bit of blue or brown-hazel. I've only seen eyes like yours once before.'

Hers? Had he ever really noticed them back then? The need to know forced the question. 'So who shares them with me?'

He shrugged dismissively. 'It was a long time ago. The memory just struck me. Where I grew up, there were lots of kids in the neighbourhood and we hung around together. One of the girls had eyes like yours.'

That girl was me! she almost screamed at him. It was a struggle to contain the sudden violent surge of emotion as the hurt of being referred to as just a girl in a neighbourhood gang seared every bit of common sense in her brain.

A wise person would probably let the matter drop, move on. After all, there was nothing to be gained by raking over the past and much to lose. Anne Shepherd was not one of the girls. She shone alone in Nick Armstrong's eyes.

But an old, old devil of torment writhed inside her, insisting on some release. The opening was there to probe exactly what Nick had thought of her in those days, without him even suspecting who she was. Painful it might be, but she couldn't let it go. The words tripped out, taking a dangerous path that was loaded with pitfalls.

'You must have a very clear memory of this girl. Was she special in some way?'

He smiled reminiscently. 'Yes, she was. It didn't matter how often the guys tried to chase her off, she determinedly stuck to joining in whatever we did, regardless of how tough the challenge was. She wouldn't get left behind and never once cried or complained if she got hurt in the process. She followed us everywhere.'

Baa-Baa Lamb.

Her chest tightened. Still she persisted on the path of knowledge, recklessly bent on filling out the picture of Nick's memory of her.

'Did you find her a pest?'

'No.' His expression became more seriously reflective. 'It's strange, looking back. She was fearless. Yet there was a terrible innocence in her fearlessness. She made me want to protect her.'

'I can't imagine the character you've drawn would want protecting.'

His eyes flicked appreciation of her understanding. 'You're right. She had a fierce pride. But I was five years older so a certain weight of responsibility fell to me.'

'Why to you?'

'I guess because...' His mouth twisted with irony. '...she looked to me. Rightly or wrongly I felt I was the one influencing her.' He paused before quietly adding, 'In the end I had to stop it.'

Barbie's mind staggered at this totally unexpected admission of a deliberate act of rejection, a weighing of the situation she had never ever suspected. The question tumbled out, impossible to hold back.

'Why?'

'It became too personal.'

The provocative reply goaded her into pursuing the point. 'How too personal?'

He made a rueful grimace. 'She didn't even see that my younger brother, who was more her age, had a crush on her.'

Barbie's mind reeled. Danny? Shy Danny with the stutter who had never discussed anything but school-work with her? She'd always tried to be kind to him, mostly because he was Nick's brother, but she'd never thought of him as anything else but Nick's brother.

'Are you saying she saw only you?'

'Something like that. It upset Danny. He'd rage at me...but I hadn't made any moves on her. She was too young for me anyway. It would have been wrong all around.'

'So how did you put a stop to it?'

He sighed. 'I made it obvious I was attracted to someone else.'

'Were you?'

'Enough to make it stick. It got Danny off my back.'

'And the girl? It got her off your back, too?' Again the question tumbled out, on a rush of bitterness this time, and she could only hope he didn't notice a change in her tone.

For a moment there was a pained expression in his eyes and Barbie registered that he took no pleasure in the success of his manoeuvre. 'It was effective in that sense,' he acknowledged. 'But she didn't take up with Danny. I didn't think she would. She simply dropped out of our lives, kept to herself. A year or so later, her family moved away, up the coast somewhere, Byron Bay, I think.'

'But you still remember her...very clearly,' Barbie commented, hiding the terrible twist of irony in her heart.

'She was part of a big chunk of my life.' His eyes warmly invited her memories as he said, 'You must have had people in your growing-up years who coloured your life, one way or another.'

He'd coloured it black. Totally black in that act of rejection. Only now did she realise there had been greys. He hadn't been a shallow rat. He'd cared about his brother's feelings... Danny, who'd meant nothing to her...

'Where does your family live, Anne?' Nick prompted.

She shook herself out of the dark reverie brought on by these revelations. Later she would think about them, put them in perspective. Dealing with now had to take priority. She had Nick here with her and she didn't want to lose what might be between them this time.

'Queensland. On the Sunshine Coast,' she answered truthfully. Her parents had moved on from Byron Bay.

'You're a long way from home.'

'I've been travelling around the country since I was eighteen. Pursuing a career in singing meant I had to.'

He smiled his understanding. 'Of course.'

'What about your family?' It was less dangerous ground.

'My parents still live at Wamberal. That's on the Central Coast.'

So nothing had changed there.

'The rest of the family has scattered,' he went on. 'I have a sister who lives in Sydney. She's married and has a couple of children.'

Carole...two years older than Barbie and very fashion-conscious from the moment she hit her teen years. It was a safe bet she'd married well. 'And your brother...the one you've mentioned?' she pressed.

'He's currently in San Diego. Danny is into yacht racing. He always was mad about boats.'

She remembered the small catamaran the Armstrongs had owned, Danny sailing it on Wamberal Lake. He'd asked her to go with him and she had a couple of times, more to show she was game for the experience than to share it with Danny. She'd really wanted to sail with Nick.

It was good to hear Danny was so far away and mad about something else. At least he couldn't interfere with this relationship.

Three waiters descended on them, one with the bottle of wine, another offering a selection of bread rolls from a basket, the third setting down the calamari starter. Barbie was grateful for the little flurry of activity which took Nick's focus away from her. She hadn't realised how difficult it would be, pretending to be a stranger, carrying the emotional strain of monitoring every word she said, trying to make her questions sound like natural curiosity.

She took a bread roll, smiled at the food waiter who said, 'Enjoy!' nodded to the wine waiter who held the bottle hovered inquiringly over her gla.s.s. By the time all the business of serving was done, she had almost convinced herself Nick could not be blamed for the decision he'd made to end it, although it was impossible to end feelings. They might be buried, twisted, transformed, but they didn't end.

At least his memories of her held some admiration, mixed with the conflict his brother had caused. Perhaps some regret, too, for what had been lost in the action he had taken. Nevertheless, she didn't want to revisit that old humiliation by talking about it openly. She needed the balm of his current admiration to heal that re-opened wound.

'Something wrong?'

Nick's query jolted her gaze back to his. 'No. Why?' she spilled out, hoping he hadn't sensed any disturbance in her thoughts.

'You seemed to be looking dubiously at the calamari. Would you like to order something else?'

'No. It's just that I've never seen it presented like this.' She smiled to alleviate any concern. 'It's so artistic it's almost a shame to dig into it.'

He picked up his cutlery to encourage her. 'Bon appet.i.t.'

She followed suit and began to eat, concentrating on the taste of the food, finding the calamari beautifully tender and the subtle flavourings interesting.

Nick's mind was in hyper-drive, trying to a.s.sess what was going on in Barbie's head. And heart. She was still sticking to Anne Shepherd. He had no idea if the answers he'd given to her quiz on the past had satisfied her quest to know how he remembered her and what had driven his actions. He could only hope she now understood there had been mitigating circ.u.mstances to the denial he'd chosen.

She was the one choosing denial now, he realised, and if he was to have any chance with her, he had to respect her choice. She didn't want to tell her side. Too hurtful? Too revealing? Would it make her feel too vulnerable?

Which led him to ponder protection. She had thought herself protected today when she'd come to his office. And Anne Shepherd was now protecting the girl he had once known. But was it protection...or deliberate deception feeding a deep, vengeful streak that would lash out at him when she judged he was at his most vulnerable?

He instinctively recoiled from this scenario. It was too dark, suggestive of a more disturbed mind than he cared to deal with. Nine years had gone by. He could understand her being wary of him, wary of letting herself be attracted to him, but to deliberately set him up for a fall at this point...no, he didn't want to believe that.

The Barbie Lamb he remembered had been straight and true in everything she'd done. People's characters didn't change. Pride might make her cover up the past, but he was sure there'd been nothing false in her response to his kisses. No pretence. No deception. It had been too real, too giving of herself to the pa.s.sion that had exploded between them.

Mutual desire.

Or was he fooling himself?

She put down her knife and fork and smiled warmly at him. 'That was delicious. A great recommendation. Thank you.'