Robyn Grady - Australia - Wicked Mistresses

Gabriel’s arms slowly unravelled. “It was a tragic accident.”

“He loved speed and the idea of taking chances, pushing the limits.” Anthony had skinned his elbows and knees more than once shooting the bowl on his skateboard. “He said he was either going into the air force or to work for National Security as a secret agent.”

A distant smile shone in Gabriel’s eyes. “He’d have done it too. He had the smarts as well as the guts.”

The question burned on the tip of her tongue. She’d wanted to know for such a long time, only she hadn’t thought anyone would know—not even her father, who’d loved Anthony better than anyone. But Gabe and her brother had been so close.

“Anthony must have known he couldn’t possibly do it,” she murmured. “Not in the dead of night. The fact that the place was cursed would’ve been enough to keep me away.” She cast Gabriel—Gabe—an imploring look over the candlelit table. “Did he talk to you about going there?”

Maintaining a thousand-yard stare past her shoulder, he slanted his head and finally nodded.

Nina’s attention picked up, but rather than sharing, Gabriel only thinned the line of his mouth.

“We knew it was some kind of a dare,” she prodded. “I heard my parents talking about Roger someone.”

“Roger Maxwell.”

“That’s it. He dared Anthony to scale the north face of Mount Spectre near your school. It had something to do with a girl Anthony liked.”

“Roger started ribbing Anthony in front of her,” said Gabe, in a low, gravelled tone. “Saying he was a wimp, a chicken, which was the most idiotic thing I’d ever heard. When Anthony laughed it off and went to walk away Roger challenged him. It was only because Roger liked this girl too, and Anthony knew it. Anthony laughed again—until the girl asked whether he was afraid of the curse.”

Nina remembered. “A jilted lover was supposed to have jumped to his death there a hundred years ago. He became a ghost who guarded the peak and gave anyone who climbed such a fright that they’d rather fall to their death than face him.”

“Anthony wanted a trial run up the cliffside first,” he said. “Without Roger and the others looking on.”

“I can’t believe he risked his life to impress a girl.”

“He wanted me to come along.”

What? She sat forward. “You were there? My parents didn’t ever tell me.”

His jaw clenched. “I told him the only way I’d go was if I could manage to catch him when he fell. I knew he could be stubborn, but I didn’t think he’d try it. I was so angry with him.” He blinked and his voice deepened. “Angrier with myself.”

She knew how Gabriel felt … somehow responsible … wanting to rework history. She’d wanted to be there for Anthony too, to convince him not to be so foolish, and all for the sake of a bet. But no amount of wishing or blame would bring her brother back.

“He made the decision to climb that rock,” she assured Gabriel now. “No one else.”

His eyes burned into space. “I was his best friend. I should’ve talked him out of it. Or physically held him back.”

The way he’d physically held her back yesterday, when he’d dragged her out of the surf and she’d refused to listen to sound advice? She’d thought at the time he was being bossy, but he’d only had her best interests at heart when he’d made sure she’d lain still in case of concussion. All those years ago when she’d hated him—or thought she had—she’d recognised that strength in him too.

Natural. Unswerving.

In her mind she saw Gabriel standing on the very edge of that cliff, the wind gusting through his hair and opened shirt, as if he was daring the gods to force him off. Her gaze roamed the lines of his face and understanding crept in. Now she knew who he was, how their pasts were connected, it seemed obvious.

“You were thinking about my brother yesterday, weren’t you?”

One dark eyebrow arched and he leant back. “I didn’t set out to climb to the island’s highest point. Heights and I don’t mix well. I’d had a quiet, uneventful bushwalk in mind, to clear my mind before heading back to the cabin.” His gaze dropped and he reached for his glass. “Then you happened along.”

She fought the urge to reach over and touch his hand. “Anthony would’ve been so proud if he’d seen you dashing to my rescue.”

His eyes snapped up, but then a shadow of a smile hovered at the corners of his mouth. His gaze held hers, and as the moment wound down the space between them seemed to thrum with a different, deeper meaning.

But then he sucked back a breath and shoved to his feet. Glaring at the dark rolling sea, he drove a hand through his hair, then set his fists low on his hips. “None of that makes any difference.”

“Any difference to what?”

He faced her. “Nina, you can’t stay.”

Air seeped from her lungs. The present and its challenges rose up again and she slumped.

“You’re sacking me.” Not a question. Rather a flat-line statement.

What had she expected? A reunion with balloons and a rendition of “Auld Lang Syne”? Bottom line: no matter what vow she’d made to improve, she was a less than competent waitress, and those who didn’t perform must be eliminated.

Regardless of the way they’d made love last night, this evening it was Goodbye, Nina.

Gabriel turned back to face the ocean, wringing his hands on the rail.

He’d had the scenario worked out. Announce that he knew her identity, then slap her with the final slam-dunk details of his own. Nina had deceived him. Dorset must have thought him a fool to fall for her act. No one manipulated him the way she had and got away with it—particularly when this Nina was the obnoxious teen who years ago had rattled his cage any chance she’d got.

And yet—

Dropping his chin, Gabriel clenched the rail and let out a quiet groan.

After speaking about Anthony, he could practically hear his best mate demanding he do something to help his little sister, and do it now. No matter how much he might want to, he couldn’t and wouldn’t ignore it. Anthony had been too good a friend. God knew why he’d befriended him, the geek, but Gabriel would never forget it.

But throwing money at Nina didn’t seem right. He’d never taken charity; Anthony wouldn’t have wanted hand-outs either. If Nina was hoping for a signed blank cheque—sorry, not happening.

Keeping her on here was out of the question too. Turning this place around depended on sticking to the narrow but profitable road. Not even Anthony’s memory could influence him to jeopardise that success.

There was only one solution. For Anthony’s sake—for the sake of what he and Nina had shared last night—he would help find her more suitable employment. Somewhere she could shine, find herself again. And if she gave him any cheek about it …

His mind made up, he angled back. “I have contacts in the industry.”

She dragged her gaze from her untouched plate. “What industry?”

“Publishing. I’ll set up an interview or two in Sydney.”

Her eyes widened and she pushed to her feet. Her mouth worked soundlessly before she breathed out, “You’d do that for me?”

She could be near her sister and nephew, earn decent money. Keep her home. All she had to do was take a job which would be created after he pulled a few strings and stay the hell out of his life. His head—his pride—had been messed with enough.

But she was sighing and shaking her head. “I’m sorry. I can’t let you do that.”

His temper spiked. “Why the hell not?”

“I can’t accept a job I haven’t won on my own merit.”

Well, she’d done it before, to get her job here. And sleeping with a rich stranger to get a leg up apparently wasn’t taboo either.