AS THEO drove Annie back across the river to his place, he steeled himself to remain immune to her infectious enthusiasm.
His plan was solid. He would be the perfect gentleman, friendly but reserved. Yes, he would play the role of an attentive host while maintaining an avuncular distance from her. It should be easy enough given the gap in their ages and their backgrounds.
The only wild card in his tidy scheme was Annie herself. She had an unnerving knack for throwing him off guard.
As soon as they arrived at his town house he carried her bag straight up to the second floor where the bedrooms were, and set it on a rug just inside the doorway of Damien’s room.
She stepped into the room and looked around at the double bed covered with a plain navy bedspread, and the glass topped table beside it. ‘Damien’s very neat and tidy.’
‘His room looks a little bare because I asked Mrs Feather, who cleans for me, to tidy away the clutter of Damien’s personal things.’
‘She did a great job.’
Indeed. Perhaps Mrs Feather had followed his instructions just a little too conscientiously. The room did look unnaturally austere. The only ornaments were the lamp on the bedside table and a novelty alarm clock shaped like a television set.
The computer on the pine desk in the corner was switched off and covered with a plastic protector. The timber shutters were drawn across the windows and the walls were completely bare, although Theo could see faint marks where posters of pop groups had hung.
‘You have your own en suite bathroom. It’s through there,’ he said, pointing to a doorway. ‘So you’ll be quite private.’
‘That’s wonderful. Thank you.’
She lifted her arms to run her fingers through her wind-tousled hair and the movement made her top separate from her jeans to reveal a section of her midriff. Theo saw a couple of inches of smooth, soft skin, and the curve of an exceptionally feminine hip bone and slender waist.
‘I’ll be down in the kitchen,’ he said, backing towards the doorway. ‘Do you like mussels?’
She turned, her blue eyes shining with amusement. ‘Muscles?’
‘The shellfish.’
‘Oh, I don’t know. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten them, but I’ll try anything once.’
‘Do you usually like seafood?’
‘Yes, I love it.’
‘Then mussels should be fine.’
She frowned. ‘You’re not cooking them, are you?’
‘Yes.’ He shrugged to make light of it. ‘Don’t you trust me?’
‘But I should be doing the cooking. Heck, Theo, you go to work all day and you’ve given me this lovely accommodation. The least I can do is cook. Mind you, most of the recipes I’m used to have beef in them.’
He smiled. ‘Another night, perhaps.’
When Theo left, Annie took her toiletry bag through to the neat little bathroom and washed her face and brushed the tangles from her hair, caused by the windy but thrilling drive in Theo’s convertible. She thought about adding a touch of lipstick, but decided against it. At home she hardly ever wore make-up and she felt uncomfortable using it unless she was all dolled up for a special occasion.
Besides, she didn’t want Theo to think she was trying too hard to impress him. She would unpack later, she decided. She felt a little uncomfortable in Damien’s too neat room and she was keen to check out the rest of the house.
On the way to the stairs she passed Theo’s bedroom. The last of the twilight was pooling through open floor-to-ceiling timber shutters on to a rich cream bedspread and an artistic tumble of black and cream cushions. His king-size bed was framed by carved timber posts. All sorts of books were piled on one of the matching side tables.
She looked at the sumptuous bed and pictured it at night, looking even more sumptuous in the glow cast by the impressive bedside lamps with heavy gold bases and black shades…But then she pictured Theo in the bed…and she wanted to put herself in the picture, too.
As if…
She hurried downstairs.
Theo’s kitchen was at the back of the ground floor section of his narrow town house and as she made her way through the living area she couldn’t help admiring his taste in interior decor.
The furnishings were similar to his bedroom—masculine colours like charcoal grey, black and cream that blended wonderfully with the honeyed tones of the polished timber floors and the floor-to-ceiling timber bookshelves. One wall was painted dark red, and set against it were abstract black and white paintings in thick gold frames.
Music drifted from the kitchen—a rhythmic drum-beat, a thrumming guitar and the alluring, smoky voice of one of her favourite Gypsy singers—another passion she’d thought she’d shared with Damien.
And there was a sensational aroma wafting through the house. She sniffed the air, trying to identify the ingredients and decided that it was lemon and crushed garlic and a herb, perhaps parsley, being heated in olive oil. Then she walked into Theo’s kitchen and it was like walking into another world.
To start with, Theo was at the stove.
For a girl who’d grown up in the McKinnon household, where a man only stepped up to a kitchen stove in a dire emergency, it was a remarkable sight, especially as Theo looked convincingly masculine and yet so totally at home with a striped tea towel draped over one broad shoulder while he stirred something in a heavy enamel pot.
But the music and the smells enchanted her, too…
And then the room itself…gleaming white walls and smart black granite bench tops…a white platter piled with lemons, and elegant wrought iron stools pulled up to a tall bench…sliding doors leading to a leafy courtyard strung with tiny lights. And a table set for two.
‘This is almost ready,’ Theo said over his shoulder. ‘I have a nice white wine chilled. Would you like some?’
He turned and smiled at her.
And Annie feared she might actually swoon.
The mussels were as delicious as they smelled. Theo served them in their shells, accompanied by linguini, which he’d tossed in a simple sauce made from tomatoes and basil leaves. The meal had an uncomplicated, direct combination of flavours that Annie loved and she couldn’t resist licking her lips.
‘Does this dish have a name?’ she asked.
‘Spaghetti della Paulo.’
‘And what does that mean?’
‘That it’s Paulo’s recipe. He’s a restaurateur who lives in Rome. I met him on one of my trips to Italy.’
‘I should have guessed that,’ she said, smiling. ‘Wow! I suppose you’d never need to go to La Piastra.’
‘On the contrary, it’s one of my favourite restaurants.’
Of course.
There it was again. The unnerving connection between Damien and Theo that she tried not to think about.
She glanced down at Basil, lying at their feet as they dined in the courtyard, then she sipped some wine.
‘Tell me a little about your home at Southern Cross,’ said Theo. ‘I’m sure my understanding of life on a cattle station is very romanticised. I hardly know anything about what happens on a day to day basis.’
Annie shrugged. ‘It depends on the time of the year. In the mustering season it’s fun to get out in the bush for weeks at a time, sleeping in swags under the stars. But at other times it’s pretty routine. There’s always general maintenance work—fixing fences, checking water, putting out feed supplements.’
He asked more questions, surprising her with his eagerness to hear details about these tasks and other aspects of handling stock. Then he looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘It’s ages since I’ve slept under the stars.’
‘You should come to Star Valley, then. It’s big sky country. You can see all the stars you like.’
‘It sounds wonderful.’ He topped up their wineglasses. ‘In a way it was star-gazing that led me into philosophy.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes. It was the summer after I left school and I was on a holiday with some mates, and we camped out on the beach at Byron Bay. It was the first time I’d really taken a good long look at the stars. You know, really looked at the sheer vastness and immensity of the universe.’
‘It’s a pretty awesome sight, isn’t it?’
‘It certainly is. It got me wondering how we humans fit into the scheme of things.’
‘Does philosophy give answers to questions like that?’
‘Not definitive answers necessarily, but it gives theories and possibilities. And it gives you guidance to work through all the existing answers till you work out your own.’
‘And you’ve worked out yours?’
His eyes regarded her warmly. ‘I’m getting there.’
Annie sighed. There was so much she wanted to ask Theo. Deep questions about the existence of God, about life and its possible meaning, but she didn’t really know where to begin. ‘So you went straight from school into philosophy?’
‘No. My father wanted me to study something more practical, so I started out studying economics. I got into philosophy by accident.’
‘How?’
He pulled a sheepish grin. ‘You wouldn’t be very impressed.’
‘Try me.’
Hooking one arm over the back of his chair, he leaned back and sent her another self-conscious smile. ‘I’m talking about centuries ago, remember, when I was eighteen and desperate to win on to girls, but terribly shy.’
Theo had been shy with girls? That was a surprise, but she refrained from saying so.
‘I can’t quite believe I’m telling you this, but at the time my older sister assured me that girls love brainy guys, so I hit on the idea of sitting in the backs of bars with a big fat book and a pipe and trying to look impressively clever.’
‘A pipe, Theo?’
‘It was unlit. I saw it as a symbol that linked me to all the great twentieth century thinkers.’
‘And were the chicks impressed?’
‘Actually, it was amazing how well it worked.’
I’ll bet. Annie felt a surge of ridiculous jealousy for all the girls who’d scored a date with him. She took another deeper sip of her wine. ‘Forgive me for being slow, but I don’t quite get the connection between attracting girls and philosophy. Or do I have totally the wrong idea about philosophy?’
Theo laughed. ‘One of the books I took along with me was about Seneca, a philosopher who lived in Roman times. I got so damned interested in him and his ideas that I forgot to keep an eye out for the girls. Apparently several tried to get my attention and gave up. From that night on I was hooked on philosophy.’
‘And you gave up girls?’ Annie feigned innocence.
‘Well…no. Not exactly.’
Across their table their eyes met. Annie saw in Theo’s gaze an unmistakable flash that sent shivers feathering her skin.
Taking a deep breath, she said, ‘So what did this Roman guy have to say that impressed you so much?’
‘Oh, many things.’ He looked away again as he thought for a moment. ‘Actually, you’d probably like him too, because you come from the outback.’
‘There’s a link between the outback and an ancient Roman philosopher?’
‘You folk in the outback have adjusted your lives to cope with your environment. You accept that there are forces stronger than humans, forces that are completely indifferent to our desires. You’ve learned to endure bushfires and drought. Things that can’t be changed. Seneca was big on accepting lessons from nature.’
Annie chuckled.
‘What’s so funny?’
‘I wouldn’t be too quick to congratulate us on accepting our lot in the bush, Theo. Why do you think I was cracking my neck to get to the city?’
He blinked.
‘Heck, in the bush we get sick of making adjustments for everything—even something as simple as ordering books over the Internet.’
‘That’s a problem?’
‘On most websites my postal address is invalid. They won’t accept Southern Cross, via Mirrabrook. They tell me I need a street number and suburb or town. So I have to invent an address that keeps them happy.’
Theo smiled. ‘And that’s before you get to the big problems like droughts and floods.’
‘Exactly.’
The next minute his expression grew sombre. And Annie knew she’d spoiled the mood. He’d remembered Damien and the email and how desperate she’d been to find a city boyfriend.
He cleared his throat. ‘Anyhow…I’m afraid I can’t spend more time chatting this evening. I have some pressing work that I must attend to tonight.’
She jumped to her feet. ‘Of course. Let me clean up. You get on with what you have to do.’
‘I’ll need to show you where things go.’
In the kitchen they were terribly efficient. No more cosy chats as utensils and china were rinsed and the dishwasher was stacked.
Theo made coffee. As he offered Annie a cup he said, ‘I’ll take mine through to the study.’
‘Okay.’
‘Good night.’
‘’Night, Theo.’ She watched him disappear, then thumbed through a current affairs magazine as she drank coffee in the empty kitchen with the humming dishwasher as her only companion.
Then she went back upstairs to Damien’s bedroom, unzipped her bag and transferred her clothes into the wardrobe. Crumbs, it was empty. All Damien’s clothes had been removed. How weird.
The room gave absolutely no hint of Damien’s personality. Had that been deliberate? Sinking on to the edge of his bed, Annie looked around her and felt a faint stirring of unease. Surely it shouldn’t have been necessary to remove everything from this room?
Then a sharper tingle of fear skittered down her spine as a horrible thought struck her. Perhaps Damien didn’t exist!
No, that was silly. It would mean that Theo wasn’t his uncle. Oh, God. Sudden panic sluiced through her. Could Theo be Damien? Was that why they both had the same tastes and ideas?
Could Theo have used Damien as an Internet code name and then hidden behind his real identity when she came to the city? Oh, God. The very thought made her head spin. Surely she was letting her imagination get the better of her. There had to be a more logical explanation.
But if there was it eluded her.
She’d moved in with a man she knew nothing about. For all she knew he could be leading two lives. That couldn’t be very healthy.
A kind of fearful desolation descended on her as she prepared for bed. And she knew she was looking down the barrel of another sleepless night.