‘I am.’
‘Then how did you bring all these things back with you? There are enough souvenirs to fill a trailer.’
‘I don’t carry all this stuff around with me. I just find things I love and send them to my storage unit. When we came here, I decided the walls looked a little bare, needed some decoration.’
She stepped towards the wooden mask, its face painted in greens, reds and blues. ‘Can I touch it?’ she asked.
‘Sure.’
She slid her finger across the surface, feeling the oily paint, the rough wood, her path rising and falling with the undulations of the face. ‘Where’s this from?’
‘Bonsaaso, in Ghana. It’s a small village in the rainforest.’ His voice was louder than she expected. He was standing right behind her. ‘We spent a few weeks there taking photographs for a magazine.’
‘What about this?’ She pointed at a wooden shield.
‘That’s from the Philippines. It’s called a kalasag. Th
ey were traditionally used in battles by Filipino warriors.’
Juliet felt his breath on her neck, sending a shiver down her spine. He was so close she only had to turn for their bodies to be touching. She breathed in, smelling the mixture of fresh water and soap that was becoming familiar. Everything about him was enticing.
‘They’re all so beautiful,’ she breathed, unable to take her eyes away. ‘No wonder you had to have them here.’
She turned to face him, and he was staring at her. This time it was Ryan who reached out and feathered his fingers along her jawline, gently tipping her chin up as he leaned down to kiss her. ‘I’ve got something else to show you, too,’ he murmured, his lips curling up against hers as he spoke.
‘I bet you have.’ Her smile matched his. When he took her hand and led her to the stairs, she wasn’t sure who was more eager to get to his bedroom.
In the end it was a dead heat. But really, they both won.
17
Parting is such sweet sorrow,
That I shall say good night till it be morrow
– Romeo and Juliet
Juliet lay curled up on his bed, her body illuminated by a shaft of moonlight. He stared at her face, following the curves of her profile with his eyes, imagining capturing them in a photograph, one that was only meant for him. They were both naked. He’d cranked the heating up enough for neither of them to feel the chill they’d had on the boat.
She mumbled in her sleep, turning over, and he glanced at the clock beside his bed. The illuminated numbers told him it was almost one in the morning. If only he could stop his mind from racing and join her in sleep. Instead thoughts were rushing through him like a river down a waterfall, crashing against his skull until he acknowledged their existence.
Good thoughts – ones about Juliet, the way she’d kissed him on the boat, and the lightness in her smile when she’d teased him. He’d seen a different side of her today, and he’d been so damn pleased that she’d finally made a move.
But there were darker thoughts, too. He blinked, trying to take the memory of that For Sale sign out of his mind, but it stubbornly remained. His stomach dropped at the thought of it. Of what the money men would do to that piece of real estate once they got their hands on it.
Trying not to wake Juliet up, he rolled to the edge of the mattress, and climbed out of the bed, pulling his shorts on. He padded down the wooden hallway in his bare feet, then down the stairs and into the kitchen, where he poured himself a glass of water.
The cold liquid soothed his parched lips as he emptied the tumbler, then refilled it, carrying it into the living room. Opening his MacBook, he clicked on the Internet, quickly searching for Within and Cross, the realtors who were trying to sell the wharf. He found them almost right away. The listing for the wharf was on their front page, and he clicked on the ‘more information’ link to see what they had to say.
Development Opportunity.
This old-fashioned wharf has been part of Shaw Haven since the 1760s. Originally a merchant port, this has now become the playground of the rich, and is ripe for redevelopment. With permission for a hotel and leisure complex, plus easy access to all major routes and to Baltimore Airport, we don’t expect this to be available for long. All enquiries to Within and Cross, by telephone, email or in person to our Baltimore offices.
He took another mouthful of water, trying to stem the anger he could feel rising up from his gut. Of all the things his father could sell, he must have known the wharf would be the one to rile Ryan up into a fury. Had he planned it that way?
Ryan grew up on that wharf, following his grandfather around, learning how to sail and fish. And when his grandfather had been dying from cancer in a sterile hospital room, Ryan had promised him to protect the wharf, to ensure Stan always had a job there, and to make sure the Miss Maisie never went anywhere else. Ryan closed his eyes as he remembered his teenaged self, gently holding his grandfather’s papery hand as he listened to his hoarse, old man voice. He’d agreed to protect it, to make sure it never passed into the wrong hands. Stupidly, he’d thought it was an easily kept promise. His mother had loved the wharf as much as he did – surely she wouldn’t let his father sell it.
He shook his head at himself. That was exactly what his father would do. When did he ever listen to his wife?