Marion Lennox - Cinderella And The Billionaire

She’d given them both sou’westers and lifejackets as they’d boarded the boat. Henry was still wearing his, but Matt’s was on the floor of the tender with his shoes. She thought fleetingly of his gorgeous leather jacket, replaced with the sou’wester. It’d be ashes by now, but he wasn’t worrying about a jacket.

He’d hiked up his trousers and rolled his shirtsleeves. He’d taken her advice and was still wearing socks. Another guy might look naff in bare legs and socks, but not this man. He was all hard muscle, lean, toned, ripped. He carted the motor as if it were nothing and, as she held the boat steady, Meg had a sudden fantasy of what it’d be like to be carried by such a man. To be held in those arms...against that chest...

Um...not.

‘Earth to Meg,’ Matt said as he returned, hauling her back to reality. ‘You were explaining why rescue isn’t imminent.’

Time for confession. Just say it.

‘The radio’s not in the bag, nor is our emergency transmitter,’ she admitted. ‘Someone’s head will roll for that.’ Probably not, though, she thought. Charlie was her boss and she was hardly in a position to complain. ‘Our phones don’t work out here. We have no way of saying we’re stranded.’

‘I’d imagine your boss will be checking your position, though. If you don’t make it to Garnett tonight, surely he’ll notice.’

And there was no way she could sugar-coat this. ‘Don’t bet on it. Monitoring the radio takes staff or work, both of which Charlie keeps to a minimum. The reason you were able to hire Bertha at such short notice is that we’re not a flash operation. In fact—’ go on, say it ‘—Charlie runs on the smell of an oily rag. If there’s a corner to cut, he’ll cut it. Bertha ’s due back to port by Monday. On Monday night he’ll start wondering.’

‘But not before.’

‘Probably not.’

He didn’t comment. Instead he heaved the water container from under the seat and carried that to the beach as well, then did the same with the removable seats.

A lawyer with muscles.

She thought, suddenly, idiotically, of fairy tales she’d read as a kid, and romance novels since. It had seemed to her that a hero would be rich and handsome. She’d thought mistily that a hero might even heave her craypots for her.

And here he was, rich—presumably, if his name headed a prestigious Manhattan law firm. Handsome... Yeah, tick that. Now he was carting the motor and water as if they were featherweights.

Fantasy plus. She almost grinned but then he was striding back, gripping the boat’s bow, readying to lift it and carry it to shore.

He couldn’t do this alone. It wasn’t the weight; it was the sheer size of the thing.

‘So we’re dependent on Peggy,’ he said, almost conversationally.

She’d already thought of that, with some relief. Peggy Lakey. Henry’s grandmother.

‘I assume you told her your travel plans,’ she said.

‘I did. She knows we landed in Melbourne this morning. She knows we were using this charter company and she’s expecting us by dark.’

‘And she has a radio.’ They were heaving the boat upward, out of danger of scraping, working as a team. Once again she had the impression that this guy was used to boats, used to the sea. Used to work?

‘It was a shaky connection this morning,’ Matt said. He was moving backward. She had the easy option of walking forward. ‘But I’d imagine if we’re not there by dark then she’ll call Charlie.’

‘And if Charlie doesn’t answer?’

‘Is that possible?’

‘The local football team’s reached the finals,’ she said dryly. ‘Yes, it is.’

‘And you work for this man?’

She couldn’t defend herself. She didn’t even try. They had the boat out of the water now, carrying it over the rocks to the strip of sand beneath the cliff. They set it down with care and Meg breathed a sigh of relief. The boat was safe. They had water and supplies. This wasn’t a total disaster.

‘So Peggy?’ she ventured. She knew a little about Peggy Lakey, an elderly woman who’d bought Garnett Island years ago. She was said to be reclusive—she’d have to be to live on Garnett—but the fishermen who carted her supplies over had always been impressed with her.

‘She seems no-nonsense,’ Matt told her. ‘Charlie assured me—and I assured Peggy—that we’d be there before dark. I’m thinking she’ll contact the rescue services soon after. This is her grandson, after all.’

‘Does she want him?’ Her gaze moved to Henry. The little boy had found a shallow rock pool. He was pointing to something in its depths and Boof, bless his doggy heart, was paying attention.

It’d be minnows. The thought almost made her smile. Years of devoted hunting, and Boof had never caught one.

She watched kid and dog watching the fish darting below the surface. Matt was watching, too.

‘Does his grandmother want him?’ she asked again.

‘I think so.’

‘You think so?’ That jolted her. What the...? ‘You bring him all the way here—and you think so ?’

‘There’s no choice,’ he said, heavily now. He wasn’t taking his eyes off the child. ‘Amanda’s will left him in the care of his grandmother. Peggy’s expressed willingness to take him.’

‘But she wouldn’t fetch him.’

‘No.’

‘Does he even know her?’

‘They write,’ he said. ‘He tells me he gets a letter every week, old-style, in an envelope with a stamp. She sends Polaroid pictures of the island. That’s what’s in his backpack—letters and pictures she’s been sending for years. I’ve seen them. She also makes radio telephone calls when she can. He feels like he knows her and there’s no doubt she cares.’

That was something at least, but she hadn’t finished probing.

‘Has he ever met her?’

‘Will you cut it out?’ His voice was suddenly laced with anger. ‘The paperwork’s in order. It’s your job to get us there safely, and might I remind you that you’re doing an appalling job of it.’

‘And so are you,’ she snapped back. ‘Your job’s to get him to his grandma, so we’ve both failed. Get over it.’

‘I’m over it. Just don’t make me responsible...’

‘For what?’

‘For bringing him here.’ He closed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair, a gesture of total fatigue. ‘Look, this is a no-win situation,’ he said. ‘Amanda was an excellent lawyer but an appalling mother. According to office gossip, when she turned forty she decided she wanted a child like some people decide they want a puppy. She’s been paying as little as she could get away with for child care. During term breaks Henry would be alone in her office for hours. Now she’s dead and she has no friends close enough to care. Henry has a grandma he’s never met and no one else.’

‘So how come he’s never met her?’

‘Because Peggy hasn’t seen Amanda for years, either,’ he said wearily. ‘Peggy told me the outline when I contacted her. She’s Australian. She was married to an American. He died a couple of years back, but the marriage broke up when Amanda was in her teens. Peggy came home to Australia. She says she tried to keep in contact, but Amanda wasn’t interested. When Henry was born Peggy doubled her efforts. Maybe she knew what sort of mother Amanda would make. I gather Amanda allowed Peggy to write to him and speak to him occasionally via her not very satisfactory radio connection, but that’s all. Now she’s all he has.’

‘He has you, though,’ Meg said, thinking what she was hearing wasn’t weariness. This was desolation for a child left with nothing.

Desolation from a high-flying businessman who’d dropped everything to bring a kid to his grandma.