Page 56 of Coming Home to Sturcombe Bay
He seemed genuinely interested, asking questions, his eyes warm. Or was he wondering if she thought it had been worth it, to walk away from him ten years ago? At least if there had been any bitterness, it seemed that time had healed.
Time, and Natalie — and the little blonde fairy in golden yellow, tucking enthusiastically into the contents of her plate.
* * *
Liam was aware of the covert interest that was being aroused by him sitting with Cassie. The gossips would be having a finetime. Well, let them. If he and Cassie were friends now, all these years later, it was no one’s business but their own.
Sitting opposite her at the small table, he could take the time to study her without appearing to stare, could see the subtle changes the years had made. Structure had emerged from the softness of her teens — strong cheekbones, a smooth oval jaw.
She wore her hair loose — it used to be long, almost to her waist, but now it just brushed her shoulders. But it still gleamed like polished mahogany. And her eyes . . . It had been her eyes that had first caught his attention all those years ago — a deep forest green, swept by long dark silky lashes.
She was wearing a very pretty dress, pale lilac, in some silky fabric, with one of those high halter-type necklines that left her shoulders bare, showing off her tattoo and a slender figure that curved in all the right places. The skirt, he had already noticed, swung to just above her knees, flashing those long, elegant legs.
He couldn’t deny that the echo of that old attraction was still there. Or maybe it was a new attraction to the woman she was now. A mature woman, comfortable in her own skin. A woman who enjoyed her friends without needing to compete with them.
Who had spared the dignity of an old man at the pool table. Who loved her dog, and had shared some of that love with Hobo. Who could give a little girl so much warmth and attention . . .
She was chatting with Robyn now, telling her about whale watching on the Southern Ocean.
“Realwhales?” The little girl’s eyes were wide. “Not just in a story book?”
“Yes, real whales. Some of them would swim right up alongside us — they were bigger than our boat.”
“How big?”
“Oh, enormous. Some of them were as long as the ballroom there.”
“No they weren’t.” Robyn giggled. “They couldn’t be that big.”
“Oh, they could. I’ve got some photographs.” She pulled her phone out of her bag and opened the photo gallery. “See? That’s one of the other boats that was with us.”
Robyn gazed at it in open-mouthed awe. “Ohhh . . . ! Look, Daddy.”
The boat looked like a fifty-foot cabin cruiser, the rail lined with tourists. Alongside it, almost half as long again, was the sleek curving back of a whale.
“Do they eat people?” Robyn enquired, a little thrill of dread in her voice.
“No. This is a blue whale. They eat krill.”
The little girl frowned. “What’s krill?”
“They’re little tiny things that look like shrimps. The whales eat tons of them every day.”
“Don’t they eat them all up?”
“No. There’s tons and tons more of them in the sea.”
Liam watched the two of them, their heads close together, dark head and fair, as Cassie showed Robyn more pictures. What would persuade her to stay? Maybe take a little time to see if they could rekindle their old relationship? Would she even want that? Would he?
But caution warned him that the chances of that working out a second time were low. Sooner or later that old wanderlust would tug at her again, and she would be off.
And this time there was another factor in the equation — a very important one. Robyn. If he let his little daughter get close to her and then she left. That would be unforgivable.
“How many whales are there?” The child’s curiosity was insatiable, but Cassie’s patience seemed equal to it.
“We don’t really know for sure,” she explained. “The oceans are very, very big and it’s hard to count them.”
“Because they’re in the water and they keep swimming around?”
