Page 67 of Masquerade

CHAPTER ELEVEN

When Liam returnedto the kitchen, she gave his faded jeans and sweatshirt a surreptitious appraisal. Her shoulders relaxed a fraction more, telling him he’d made the right choice. She’d unpacked the containers and set two places at the benchtop facing towards the garden.

“You got delivery from Tony’s.” Her delight was palpable, and he gave himself another pat on the back. “That was thoughtful.”

“I can do thoughtful.” Returning to Sydney had thrown up a barrier between them. Liam wasn’t sure what had triggered it—his apartment, his suit, the stark reminder they had day jobs?

“Tell me everything.” She invited, never demanded, another characteristic setting her apart from Selina.

“I presented the evidence to the lead solicitor of the Anti-Corruption Commission.” Liam spooned up another mouthful of the chilli tomato pasta. “Did I order right?”

“It’s perfect.” She sipped the Montepulciano he’d poured to accompany it. “Is there enough evidence for them to act?”

“They’re considering it. I spent my afternoon with the Minister for Agriculture’s chief adviser outlining our concerns about the stench of corruption around the choice of land for the hospital. She was circumspect, but I could see she was rattled.”

“What’s your next move?”

“I told her there were a number of steps the government could take to address the perception of corruption. She said she’d be in touch.” It had been a long time since Liam had talked over his day’s work with someone, a long time since he’d wanted to, or had someone who shared common purpose with him. When he started relaxing into the feeling, alarm bells began to ring. The billboard, the cottage, putting the bench between them earlier and suits—she was sticking to their rules, so what the hell was he doing?

“My research suggests that land really is the best option for the hospital.” She mopped up the last of her pasta sauce with the bread.

“The community isn’t convinced.” Liam leaned back in his chair. “If the government published the assessment criteria they used for applications and a list of the tenders submitted, it would go a long way to proving the decision was transparent and independent.” He shared his conclusion.

“Finished?” she asked, moving to clear away the dishes.

“I’ll do it.” He rested a hand on hers to still her movement. “You served.”

“The government is claiming commercial-in-confidence for the list of tenders, but releasing the assessment criteria would settle a lot of suspicion”—she propped her elbow on the counter and rested her chin in her hand—“and potentially reignite the debate to deregister the entire tract of land.”

“Remember what Billy said about the extreme weather fluctuations forcing decisions people didn’t want to take?” Liam transferred the leftover food to the fridge.

She nodded while he loaded the dishwasher.

“A recent good harvest has changed some minds. Some of those who tendered might also be pushing for confidentiality.” He glanced over his shoulder. “If the government announces the criteria they used and a package of initiatives to help landholders, including funding Rory’s trial, that’ll go a long way to reestablishing trust.”

“Can you pull it off?” Delight illuminated her.

“The next few weeks will tell. And it’s not just me. Rory’s got to get his ducks in a line for me to use as a bargaining chip.” He wiped the kitchen bench. “Now, Ms. Kate Turner, if you’ve finished helping me clarify my thoughts on the project, I suggest we sit outside and toast the stars with the remainder of this wine.”

“You can’t see the end of your nose in this downpour.”

“It’s only a light rain.” He exaggerated his Irish lilt as he drew her to her feet, his hands resting on her hips. “I missed you today. Stay with me tonight?”

Her body trembled in a sigh as soft as a susurrus of wind through low grasses. A humming of pleasure, and Liam’s earlier doubts receded. She wanted him as much as he wanted her.

“Depends where we’re sleeping.” But she stepped into his open arms.

“Where would you like to sleep?”

“To be honest, I’d choose a tent in the garden.”

“Ouch. That bad.”

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