Page 18 of Betrayal

Anna shook her head.“Better.”

Sharing some of herself in the hope he’d reciprocate was a tentative first step toward ...friendship ...something more?Hunter had made her consider more, even on the night she’d worn herKilling Evedress.Hunter had exorcised some of the helpless rage that had driven Anna to buy it, after the creepy company executive’s crude proposition had catapulted her back to her terrible teens when she’d been adrift.

Minutes later, she preceded Hunter from the air-conditioned splendour of the restaurant into an unseasonably balmy evening.A three-quarter moon hung low over Bondi beach, the Southern Cross constellation was spilling across the sky, and the air was soft and salty.Anna slipped her hand through his arm, his sudden stillness telling her she’d surprised him.Her wide skirt brushed against his trouser leg, a tiny susurrus of sound.

“In Italy they call itla passeggiata.It’s usually a stroll down the main street of a village to show yourself off and talk to the neighbours.But it can be an after-dinner promenade.”She steered him toward Campbell Parade.“We’re heading for Mapo.”

“Gelato.”

He smelt delicious this close, all dry, ambery, smoky and mysterious.

“Uh-huh.What’s your favourite flavour?”She pushed open the door to Mapo.The roughly rendered brick and sanded-back plaster walls contrasted with the silver-lidded pozzetti containers keeping the gelato at temperature.Shelves were packed with plyboard boxes of ripe fruit, berries, citrus, with some early mangoes.The sweet caramel-like perfume of strawberries in abundance clogged the air.

“Pear, but it’s a short season.”He scanned the board menu.“Pistachio tonight.Want me to snag a bench seat while you order?”

“We haven’t finished ourpasseggiata.I’ll meet you outside.”Re-joining him on the pavement, she passed him a cone.“For you.”She linked arms again to guide him down the hill to the walkway above the beach.“Let’s walk on the sand,” she said, her gaze out to sea.

“Why?”He halted.

Anna offered one of her lower-wattage smiles, one she saved for friends.“Because we’re here.It’s a lovely evening, and I don’t often get the chance.”

“Let’s finish our gelatos first.”His pink tongue lapped at the gelato, his gaze steady on hers.

She bit into her cone, and his eyes widened slightly, making her take the last mouthfuls in a rush.He continued nibbling small pieces off his cone.Turning away from his seriously sexy mouth took monumental self-discipline.She rested her back against the railing.

“Finish it, Duck.Swallow it whole.”

“What did you call me?”He choked on the last of the dry cone.

She liked off-balancing him.

“‘Duck.’I heard it in an old movie.It’s a term of endearment.Although, I was thinking of the definitions of the verb duck—evade, elude, dodge, avoid and sidestep.”

“Iamnot evasive.We’ve just agreed a straight-up deal.”He looked so appealing, slightly bemused, burdened in a way.A man called Hunter S.Thompson, even if the S stood for Samuel, must feel burdened on occasion.“And, I’m not answering to Duck.”

“Private, then,” she amended before rummaging in her shoulder bag.She waved aloft the collapsible backpack she carried for shopping trips.“This makes us hands-free.”Heeling off her sandals, she tucked them and her bag into the soft pack.“Your turn.”

While he removed his shoes and socks, Anna tucked the bottom of her wide skirt into her bodysuit, creating a ballerina tutu-like short skirt.He turned his head to stare at her naked knees, then peered up at her.

“Are you going in the water?”

“We’re strolling along the water’s edge.We’re going to get sand between our toes, and maybe you should roll your trousers above your knees.Haven’t you ever played in the water?”

“Not for years.”

“That’s sad.”Anna had the sense his expectations of women were pretty low.What was that song?“Desperado”—something about walking alone being a prison.She wasn’t alone, but she admitted there were times she was lonely.“It’s part of dessert.My treat.”

Dutifully adding his shoes to the backpack, he rolled up his trousers before shouldering the pack, then stuck out an elbow.“Shall we stroll?”

“We can stroll or saunter or”—she giggled—"I might manage a sashay.”

“You like words.”

“I love words.I’m the daughter of writers and the sister of a writer.”

“Hence your choice of the wordphilandererrather thancheatat dinner.”

More evidence hedidlisten, another tick in the column marked appealing.

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