Free New Year’s Kisses by Rhian Cahill Page B

thinking…”
    “Ooh, dangerous.”
    He flashed his wicked grin. “The cruise ships will start calling in, soon.”
    She nodded. Fremantle was one of the cruise lines main Australian stops, but it was a summer thing. Winter was the town’s quiet time. “Tourists. I can’t wait.” Tourists meant people with money to buy mementos.
    “You say that now. Wait till they all come shuffling in, hoping for an air conditioned retreat from the heat.”
    “If they buy my paintings, they’re welcome to all the cool air they desire.”
    “Fair enough. But my point was that we ought to take advantage of this breathing space before the panting hordes arrive.”
    She glanced back at her painting. “I am.” She was painting steadily, aware how lucky she was at twenty-four to have a studio and be working at her art full time.
    “I was thinking more of taking a break than working flat out.”
    Now he had her full attention. Nick cultivated a relaxed air, but she knew how intensely he worked. Collectors sought out his pots and he already had three in the National Gallery. He might be the only son of one of Australia’s wealthiest businessmen, but Nick was no dilettante.
    Her heart squeezed as she suddenly guessed why he’d want a break. She held her mug tightly and turned back to the easel. She didn’t want him to see her face when he told her he had a new girlfriend and would be spending time with her. Just listening to his slow drawl hurt.
    “I have a weekender down south, near Walpole. Tall trees and sea. I thought you might be interested in coming with me.”
    She whirled around. Tea spilled over the rim of her mug. Absently, she shifted her mug to her other hand and licked up the drops.
    Nick’s gaze followed her action.
    She blushed at her gaucherie and whipped her free hand behind her back. “You have a house in Walpole?”
    “Nearby. You can see the sea from the front veranda. I thought you might want to take photos.” He glanced at the corkboard. “Of the beach.”
    She didn’t mention that there were beaches in Fremantle and all along the coast or that she had hundreds of photos already. “I…um…”
    “Obviously, you don’t have to. But there’s plenty of room. I’ll be driving down Thursday to avoid the weekend traffic.”
    “What will you do, there? I mean, do you have a potting studio?”
    “No. For me it’ll be a complete break. I’ll surf a bit, maybe fish.”
    She wrinkled her nose.
    “It’s okay, I wouldn’t make you clean them.”
    “Gee, thanks.”
    “No problem.” He finished his tea and stood. “Anyway, think about it. The offer’s open. We all need a break sometimes, even if we love what we’re doing.”
    She nodded as her heart beat fast and heavy. She wondered he couldn’t notice it pounding beneath her cotton shirt. Nick had invited her to his house. It was a sign of trust that she treasured, but without the distraction of work and customers, would she give away her feelings? Could she risk stealing this time with him?
    She watched him walk out of the room and realised she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on her painting now. She cleaned her brushes and forced a smile as one of the three art students, who helped out as casual sales employees, entered.
    “Sorry,” Marly called as the wind caught the front door behind her and slammed it shut. It might be early spring, but the weather was still blustery. The Indian Ocean could brew up a powerful storm.
    Two customers entered on Marly’s heels.
    Zoe welcomed them easily—years waitressing in her uncle’s restaurant had honed her customer skills—before leaving them to Marly and retreating to her back- room. She needed breathing space.
    Instinctively seeking comfort, she lifted the top three sketchbooks from her desk and picked up the fourth. It fell open at a sketch of a hand and arm. Nick’s hand and arm. This book was her guilty pleasure. Here she indulged her artist’s soul’s craving to record the beauty of his body