possibilities. Maori or Pacific heritage?
She didn't look back as she trailed her case across the street. He might have seen her looking.
The small hotel had been recommended on a review site. Cassie couldn't remember which. But a tent and a long drop would have suited fine.
She found the place. Owners Suzanne and Tom were a bit like her parents, non-descript.
"You on your own, love?" Suzanne looked up from her register. "The booking was for two."
"Well, we broke up." Not much more to say.
Suzanne said she understood, and Tom, behind her, said they hadn't another booking for three weeks, so she was welcome to stay longer. He said he'd give her a much reduced rate.
Maybe they knew how it felt, probably not. But it was a lovely studio apartment, straight off the street, past a leafy garden with tall flax. The raised concrete terrace lay under a magnolia canopy, with a view down the street to the bay and the islands. Cassie felt immediately at home in the sun-yellow and white decor.
"It's lovely."
And there was still time in the day for a first swim. She donned her Speedo; green swirls and black. A mid-length moss-green cotton dress made a good cover-up, and she packed her well-worn jean-jacket in case it got cold later.
Several shop windows in the street enticed a closer look: books and pottery; a display of glass-blown sculpture; an art gallery, its window stuffed with pieces; Maori carvings. She got a few things for the apartment from a mini-supermarket, and chilled juice for now from the café.
C arrying her drink, she walked on, swinging her raffia bag. At the tourist place, she didn't take much convincing before agreeing to take the day cruise. A whole day on the water, with a chance to swim with dolphins, sounded heavenly.
She booked it.
Once on the sand, she chose a spot under one of the pohutakawas, and put the bag up against its trunk. She peeled off the dress, put on her goggles, and headed for the water.
The cloud cover had thinned out. Sunlight glittered on the rippling surface as she walked into its welcoming chill. She sunk below the surface and absorbed the coolness, refreshed. A 200-yard champion ten years earlier, she still loved to swim. She'd seen a dull red diving platform maybe fifty yards out, and headed for it.
Overhand, she reached it quickly and climbed on, pulling the edges of her Speedo down where they had ridden up. She dived, and surfaced, climbed and dived again. She floated for a while on her back, and swam down to look around below the platform. But swimming alone got boring. She sprinted to the beach, not stopping until she could touch bottom, almost getting there in one breath.
She waded out, and passed in front of the row of catamarans on the way back to her bag. Her eyes narrowed as she recalled her open-mouth moment.
"Nice diving ."
H im again? White shorts, orange-red tee, bronze-brown skin, wide smile and silver coated shades. He slid the glasses up and planted them in his hair as he walked forward into her space.
Time paused, his blue-green gaze sucking her in. In another instant she would have stepped back; he was way too close. But his head whipped around before she could. Someone had called to him; a party of four had come up and questions were beginning. Inane ones, like Are you open?
She saw frustration flash across his face ; a dark cloud scudding to block the sun. She sensed he didn't want to break the connection. But they'd broken it for him. He slipped away to rent them a cat, and Cassie continued to where she had left her things.
She couldn't believe her reaction. She didn't know him, and didn't want to. She didn't want anyone that close, thank you very much.
She put the goggles away, dried her hair enough so it didn't drip, and put on the dress. She looked up at his back, glad of the distance. She didn't know what she might have said if the tourists hadn't interrupted.
When she had to stop abruptly , to avoid walking into a couple outside the café, she
She didn't look back as she trailed her case across the street. He might have seen her looking.
The small hotel had been recommended on a review site. Cassie couldn't remember which. But a tent and a long drop would have suited fine.
She found the place. Owners Suzanne and Tom were a bit like her parents, non-descript.
"You on your own, love?" Suzanne looked up from her register. "The booking was for two."
"Well, we broke up." Not much more to say.
Suzanne said she understood, and Tom, behind her, said they hadn't another booking for three weeks, so she was welcome to stay longer. He said he'd give her a much reduced rate.
Maybe they knew how it felt, probably not. But it was a lovely studio apartment, straight off the street, past a leafy garden with tall flax. The raised concrete terrace lay under a magnolia canopy, with a view down the street to the bay and the islands. Cassie felt immediately at home in the sun-yellow and white decor.
"It's lovely."
And there was still time in the day for a first swim. She donned her Speedo; green swirls and black. A mid-length moss-green cotton dress made a good cover-up, and she packed her well-worn jean-jacket in case it got cold later.
Several shop windows in the street enticed a closer look: books and pottery; a display of glass-blown sculpture; an art gallery, its window stuffed with pieces; Maori carvings. She got a few things for the apartment from a mini-supermarket, and chilled juice for now from the café.
C arrying her drink, she walked on, swinging her raffia bag. At the tourist place, she didn't take much convincing before agreeing to take the day cruise. A whole day on the water, with a chance to swim with dolphins, sounded heavenly.
She booked it.
Once on the sand, she chose a spot under one of the pohutakawas, and put the bag up against its trunk. She peeled off the dress, put on her goggles, and headed for the water.
The cloud cover had thinned out. Sunlight glittered on the rippling surface as she walked into its welcoming chill. She sunk below the surface and absorbed the coolness, refreshed. A 200-yard champion ten years earlier, she still loved to swim. She'd seen a dull red diving platform maybe fifty yards out, and headed for it.
Overhand, she reached it quickly and climbed on, pulling the edges of her Speedo down where they had ridden up. She dived, and surfaced, climbed and dived again. She floated for a while on her back, and swam down to look around below the platform. But swimming alone got boring. She sprinted to the beach, not stopping until she could touch bottom, almost getting there in one breath.
She waded out, and passed in front of the row of catamarans on the way back to her bag. Her eyes narrowed as she recalled her open-mouth moment.
"Nice diving ."
H im again? White shorts, orange-red tee, bronze-brown skin, wide smile and silver coated shades. He slid the glasses up and planted them in his hair as he walked forward into her space.
Time paused, his blue-green gaze sucking her in. In another instant she would have stepped back; he was way too close. But his head whipped around before she could. Someone had called to him; a party of four had come up and questions were beginning. Inane ones, like Are you open?
She saw frustration flash across his face ; a dark cloud scudding to block the sun. She sensed he didn't want to break the connection. But they'd broken it for him. He slipped away to rent them a cat, and Cassie continued to where she had left her things.
She couldn't believe her reaction. She didn't know him, and didn't want to. She didn't want anyone that close, thank you very much.
She put the goggles away, dried her hair enough so it didn't drip, and put on the dress. She looked up at his back, glad of the distance. She didn't know what she might have said if the tourists hadn't interrupted.
When she had to stop abruptly , to avoid walking into a couple outside the café, she
Similar Books
