A Dangerous Arrangement (29 page)

And over to one side, a little apart from the others, sat the most stunning bunch of deep orange roses she'd ever seen.

Marina caught her breath. ‘Aren't they divine?'

Eli raised his eyebrows. ‘Who are
they
from?'

Marina turned over a card which was attached to one of the long-stemmed roses with deep glossy foliage. ‘As long as it's not Andreas, I don't care.'

‘He's a great conductor.' Eli lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘Pity he's such a loser.'

Marina smiled and stared at the card. It set out care instructions for the …

‘Son of a bitch,' she whispered, her heart beginning a slow, heavy thump in her chest. ‘These are called Marina Roses.'

‘That's classy.' Eli's face broke into a broad grin. ‘Who gave you those?'

‘The
Marina
Rose?' She hunted though the blooms for the gift card. ‘I didn't even know there was a rose called that.'

‘Well, someone did.' Eli wandered closer, an intrigued expression on his face.

Marina's mouth turned dry and her stomach began a slow churn. It couldn't be. Not after four months. And roses? Marina roses? It was such a
personal
gift, and apart from Dean, she hadn't had a liaison with anyone for years.

Hope, anger and anticipation mixed together and swirled around inside her. Finally, she located the gift card.

Conscious of Eli's eyes upon her, she opened the small envelope with shaking fingers.

‘Meet me afterwards? D.'

A wail of frustration burst from her lips, loud enough to send a look of alarm across Eli's face. ‘
What
? Who are they from?'

Marina clutched the card, hand on her forehead, a slow anger burning inside her. On stage she'd glimpsed someone in the audience, someone who reminded her of Dean. And she'd looked away, refusing to torment herself any more. She was tired of looking. She'd spent the last four months taking a second look at every tall, dark, handsome man who passed her in the street.

‘Come with me, Eli.'

She left the room and ran down the wide, granite steps, past the cleaners working in the bar, down the escalator, and finally out onto the Opera House steps. A flotilla of yachts crowded the harbour, and far below, festive partygoers were packed ten deep at the railing, holding their spot while they waited for the midnight fireworks.

But up here the Opera House steps were sparsely populated, and about 3 metres away a tall, broad-shouldered man with familiar dark hair and brown eyes stood waiting. His hands were in his pockets, and he'd undone his black bow tie so it hung loosely around his neck. He wore a white shirt unbuttoned at the neck, an immaculately cut Armani suit and a guarded expression.

Marina couldn't move. She just stood there and drank him in. She had a million things to say, and yet she couldn't speak. He was thinner, more drawn around the eyes than the day he ordered her off the yacht. Her throat closed over at the memory, and suddenly she wanted to scream and shout and throw herself into his arms all at once.

She didn't move a muscle.

Eli looked from her to Dean and back again. ‘Is this the guy?'

She turned to her friend and put her hand on his arm. ‘Can you wait for me inside, Eli? I'll still need to get my stuff. I'll only be five minutes.'

There! That would show Dean Logan he couldn't just show up here after all this time and expect her to drop everything on one of the most important nights of her life.

‘Sure.' Eli took a long, hard look at Dean, and left.

And then they were alone.

She steeled herself as he came towards her, halting just out of arm's reach.

***

‘So, am I the guy, Marina?'

Dean held his breath. He wanted to be.

He wanted to be the guy, so badly.

He watched as she clenched her hands at her sides. As always, she was stunning, but there was turmoil beneath the radiance, and he feared any second she'd turn on her heel and flee back inside.

‘You goddamn jerk!' She hissed the words, reminding him of the day he'd cast off with her on board. ‘How dare you turn up here after months of silence and ask me that.'

She wasn't going to let him off easily, maybe not at all. And he deserved that. He deserved every bit of her anger, every ounce of her disappointment.
Hell
. He welcomed it. It gave him heart, showed she was still affected by him, even if in a bad way.

‘What are you doing here, Dean?'

He took a deep breath. He'd prepared for this. He'd worked it out.

But suddenly the words seemed trite, inappropriate. He searched in his mind for something else.

‘You need to keep up your side of the bargain.'

She blinked, frowned. ‘What are you talking about?'

‘The lesson. A guitar lesson for a swimming lesson. You owe me.'

Her expression suggested he could be living in an alternate reality. ‘That was before you went radio silent.'

‘I'm sorry. Things have been—crazy. I know I screwed up.'

She drew herself up to her full height and lifted her chin a little. ‘You couldn't have spared two minutes to phone me every now and then?' She continued on, not waiting for an answer. ‘I was forced to find out what was happening through Detective Mooney.'

‘I know.'

‘It's not like I was going to demand anything of you. You made it perfectly clear you're not in favour of long-distance relationships. But in view of everything we went through, I thought you'd at least keep in touch.'

Jesus
. She was killing him. And by the look on her face, she was just getting warmed up.

‘I'm not the kind of woman who will put up with being treated like that. I don't have a high tolerance for “bad”, so I suggest you go find someone who does.'

She turned to go.

‘Dory!'

She stilled, turned her head and spoke over her shoulder. ‘What did you say?'

‘The fish who kept swimming, his name was Dory. And the song in
Pocahontas
, it's ‘Colours of the Wind', not colours of the rainbow. Colours of the wind doesn't make any sense, but—that's what it's called.'

Slowly, she turned to face him fully.

He went on, desperate to make her stay. ‘I watched the movies, and I listened to your music. It's the only way I could keep connected, keep you close …' To his horror, his voice broke.

Oh shit!

He turned away, ran a hand through his hair. She'd think him a goddamn fool talking about a fucking fish when all he wanted was to tell her he loved her.

‘
Dean?
'

He closed his eyes.

There was a long pause. ‘Why did you take so long?'

When he turned back, he was glad he did. Her face had softened, and there was the hint of a smile on her lips.

He moved closer, hope growing with every step. ‘I told myself it was best to have no contact, for a while, that you needed to keep the trip to Italy a secret, and all that. I was trying to protect you, keeping up my end of the bargain.'

She nodded.

He gathered himself as best he could. Somehow he had to articulate this. She was the first woman he'd truly fallen in love with, and tonight nothing was being left unsaid.

‘As time went on, things got crazier and crazier. The extent of Li's activities was mind-blowing, and the shock that it had all started because someone wanted to win a
race
. I couldn't comprehend it.'

He paused to take a breath. ‘This guy has
everything,
and yet, he was so desperate he was willing to destroy my company to achieve it. The whole thing was just … nuts, and … I was really missing you. I feared, if I heard your …
voice
…'

Marina's lips trembled and she took a step towards him. ‘Dean.'

‘Please. Marina.' He held up both hands, his breath a little ragged. ‘Just—let me get this out, okay. I'm finally getting somewhere here. I was missing you, and every time I'd pick up the phone, I'd think that's what our future would be like. Always apart.' He paused. ‘It scared the crap out of me. I'd made a decision years ago that my partner would always be with me. I'm selfish enough to want that.'

She nodded, blinked a tear from the corner of her eye.

‘There's something you should know about me.'

‘Oh God.' She brought a hand to her chest. ‘Don't tell me you've got a wife hidden away somewhere too?'

‘If only it were that simple. My father was a naval commander, away a lot. My mother didn't cope very well. She was lonely. I didn't know, but she was having an affair. Apparently she would meet her lover on the family cruiser, when I was at school. We used to moor it down from the house, in the river. To this day, I believe she didn't bring him into the house because of me.'

He paused to take a breath. ‘One day, I came home from school, and she wasn't there. It was odd. She was
always
there …'

His voice went husky, and Marina stepped closer. Too close for his comfort. If he wanted to, he could reach out and touch her hair, smell her perfume, look for the faded freckles he couldn't see because of her make-up.

‘I went looking for her.' He sucked in another deep breath. He'd get through this if it were the last thing he ever did because Marina Wentworth/Lane was worth it. She was worth every darn second of the agony that had him ripping open his chest and baring his emotional scars. ‘I couldn't find her anywhere. I went down to the river. The dingy was there, tied up to the back of the cruiser.'

‘How old were you?'

‘Fifteen. I was worried, so I got my surfboard and paddled out. I found them in the cabin …'

Those big, vivid eyes were full of sympathy now. ‘
Oh, Dean
. You were a child. You can't assume that long distance was the sole factor. Maybe there were other issues in your parents' marriage that you weren't aware of.'

‘They weren't just in the cabin making love, Marina, although they had been.'

She frowned, not understanding.

His heart twisted.

‘They were in the cabin—
dead
.'

***

Shock turned Marina's blood to ice. Dean's eyes were wet, in the past, like he was seeing it all again, and for one moment she glimpsed the boy in the complex man in front of her.

And then an instant later the adult was back, nostrils flaring as he pushed an unsteady hand through his hair. ‘My father was the prime suspect. He was in Australia at the time, working at the naval base.'

‘But, he would have had an alibi—if he was working.'

‘He did. But there was something unusual about the way they died. All they knew was that they went to sleep and didn't wake up. The forensic testing back then wasn't what it is today. It took time for them to find out it was poisonous fumes, a gas leak from the cruiser. The police were around at our house every day. Questioning me, taking Dad down to the station, suspecting he poisoned them. Rask was the only really kind one. He believed me when I said I didn't think Dad did it. Everyone else thought it was natural for me to say that because I was a kid, but I told Rask I knew he was innocent. My father loved her. I could see it in his eyes, in the way he treated her.'

Dear God!

If only she could absorb some of this pain.

But she couldn't. She could only say the words and hope they were the right ones. ‘Apart from your mother, you knew your Dad better than anyone.'

He nodded, his beautiful face filled with such sadness Marina ached to go to him, longed to kiss away his pain.

‘He might have spent a lot of time away, but I knew the man he was. School was hell for a while, and it took months to clear his name. He was never the same. You know, mud sticks. Four years later, he was dead. I was nineteen, at university.'

It all made sense to her now. Dean's fear of long-distance relationships, his wariness of the media, his lack of faith in police procedure. She could see now why he'd intercepted her in Venice and taken matters into his own hands. It was amazing he'd managed to work as well as he had with the authorities of three different countries.

Then again, he was no longer a boy, but a grown man.

And he had Rask to temper him.

‘I decided to become a naval architect. I wanted to build better boats, safer boats.'

A labour of love. For the mother he'd lost when he was fifteen, and his father a few years later.

Marina's throat ached, and the hot tears forming in her eyes threatened to spill over. ‘I'm so sorry, Dean.'

‘It's alright, Marina. I came through it. Rask took an interest in me, and I found my tribe in the sailing community. I started designing yachts and building them in the family home I inherited. When Rask retired, he came to work for me.'

He shrugged and his lips curved in a slight smile. ‘Well, I convinced him. I couldn't really see him with his feet up somewhere and playing the odd game of bowls.'

Marina smiled through her tears and thought of her spat with the former detective over her violin. It had been a wrench handing back the instrument after her performance tonight. But it was nothing compared to this.

‘How is he?'

‘Why don't you come and see for yourself?' Dean said softly.

‘He's here?'

Dean tipped his head towards the harbour. ‘The yacht's out there. You can't see her from here. She's moored off Mrs Macquarie's Chair.'

Marina sniffed and wiped her eyes with the backs of her hand.

He moved a little closer. ‘I brought her down for New Year's Eve. I didn't want to miss your final performance.'

‘I thought I saw you inside.'

He nodded, and his voice sank to a whisper. ‘You were—unbelievable. You are so talented—it's humbling. It's intimidating.'

Intimidating? Dean Logan wasn't scared of anything. This was the man who had jumped overboard in Bass Strait and pulled five crewmen from a raging ocean. And now he was looking at her in awe, and with a pride that matched her father's.