Page 20 of Bay of Plenty

What a shit show. The cardiac specialist strode in.Phew.

*

“Let’s go over our dating history,” Declan said, back in the bedroom. His demeanor was pleasant, but he was clearly frustrated by the scene at the hospital. He was unpacking before breakfast, his folding and hanging boutique standard.

“You’re shaming me to tidy my side,” I said, draping my shirts properly on their hangers. “I’ve thought about this. We metsevenmonths ago”—I gave anI’m completely bonkersface, and he laughed—“when my friend, the Home and Garden editor, interviewed you about the new British porch appeal. Glossy pastel doors and moody Kiwi flaxes in midnight-blue pots, apparently.”

He grinned at me. “Grand. You brought Teddy to our first date at Arbor, and the deal was sealed. You join me on mini breaks in the Cotswolds when I work up there. We spend loads of time with Shay and Bato in London and visiting my sisters and their kids in Devon. Brief meetings with my brothers—believe me, it always has to be brief with them; they’re complete louts. But you’ve never met my parents, because they’re embassy people based in Africa.”

My head jerked back. “That’s incredibly specific. How much of that is true?”

He shrugged and bent down to take electronics out ofhis case—satellite phone, laptop, battery pack, two mystery devices.

“If we don’t know something about each other, it’s better that we say so. We’ve only known each other for seven months.” He stood up, laptop in hand. “What are you comfortable with? I had a discussion with one of my colleagues before I came, so here goes. I’m okay with kissing, hugging, arms around each other, holding hands, you touching me. I know this ‘love languages’ concept is big, so it’s quite helpful to drop that in. My sisters say mine are ‘physical affection’ and ‘words of affirmation.’ My brothers are always rolling their eyes at me, but I like talking about feelings and emotions, because I’m away so much there can be misunderstandings.”

Was any of that true? He did seem at ease discussing this. In contrast, my body and brain were seizing up with embarrassment.

But I had to put my discomfort aside and treat this as part of the job. I pressed a curled hand to my lips, taking a moment to process his words and to decide what I was okay with. “I’m fine with kissing, hugging, and touching nonprivate parts of my body without you having to ask for permission each time,” I said. “I suppose I’m the opposite of you. I’ve been told by my flatmate Shay that my love language is ‘acts of service.’” I took a deep breath. I had to be honest. “I get twitchy and nervous talking about emotions, and I’m not all that affectionate.”

Declan nodded and cleared his throat. “It’s good we’re on this subject. In a case this month, evidence was thrown out of court because an agent was having sex with a civilian who was embedded with them. We’ve had an official letter. We are only to touch for show to keep our cover. All acts of affection in fake dating must be in public only.”

He looked me steadily in the eye. I watched for his expression, but his face was stripped of any emotion. Textbook delivery. I couldn’t say the same for me. I felt my face run the gamut from hot embarrassment to looking blank. His eyes flickered, maybe dazed at my pivots. “I’m not suggesting either of us were thinking sex was a possibility. But to be clear, we cannot have sex or touch each other at all in private.”

“Totally clear.” I shrugged like it was never going to happen anyway. Nope, should have done the blank face again.

“I think we’ve covered it,” he said, slipping his rolled-up boxer briefs into a drawer.

I averted my eyes… to the bathroom.Gah.We had to share a bathroom too. For two weeks. Spending every second with a man you didn’t know.

Had. Not. Thought. This. Through.

He slid his bag onto the top shelf and closed the wardrobe.

“Let’s talk about strategy. We’ve got surf lessons with Snow every morning. After, we’ll hang out on the beach, watching him. We must get inside his mind, understand his motivation.”

My pulse kicked up. “This was what I was worried about. Cops work to make arrests. Journalists investigate the opposite way. I need copious documentation. We need to search the council and newspaper files on the winery. I need on-the-record interviews so I’m ready to write the article and file it before anyone else gets the story. Besides, you have seen me?” I held out my white arms as proof. “No known melanin found in my skin. I have to wear SPF 100 to cross the road!”

“Scrambled eggs and bacon ready,” Mum called. She’d knock if we didn’t hurry.

“I already texted Bevan’s parents that we’re arriving in an hour,” I said, desperate to get this settled. “They sold thewinery to Snow and might give us some insight into his operation. Also, because they live next door, they might have seen something suspicious go down. We have to turn up.”

He said nothing to all this. “I don’t want you asking Snow questions about the winery unless he brings it up.” His tone was firm, his expression determined. “It’s too obvious.”

“Oh my God, this is going to take forever.”

He smiled calmly. How the hell were we going to sort this out?

Chapter Twelve

“The winery wasmy dream.” Bevan’s mother, Mrs.Tohu, tapped her diamanté earrings. “I loved the romance of it, but—”

“It was stressful and a sinkhole for our hard-earned money.” Mr.Tohu tugged at his flannel workshirt.

Tension started to surface, as though they didn’t want to discuss the subject anymore. Declan shifted uncomfortably beside me.

My skin itched with guilt. The Tohus had been heart-wrenchingly delighted to see me when we turned up at their pig farm next to the winery. Their soothing 1920s villa reminded me of what a sanctuary this family and house were.

“I’m sorry, that sounds hard,” Declan said, moving to the family photos on their piano. “What a great picture of Isla and Bevan.” The Tohus smiled and the pressure eased. Declan listened with a quiet smile as we talked about the many fun nights I’d slept over. They’d been so good to me after I’d lost Janey.

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