With This Fling... by Kelly Hunter

the wanderlust of its owner.
    Charlotte reached Greyson’s side and smiled at the dark eyed devil who greeted her with a swift and potent smile of his own.
    Terrible fiancé material, this man—as the patient, still-smitten Sarah had discovered.
    But on a night like this, for an outing of this nature, he was damn near perfect.
    They motored past the small township ofHawkesbury River, past tree clad ridges rising up from the riverbanks. They motored under an old railway bridge and on to where solitude and natural beauty held sway.
    The catamaran rode high in the water, and looking out over the wide expanse of glassy river held plenty of appeal. Leaning back against the instrument panel and watching Greyson’s eyes darken as she fed him a prawn held more. From her hand to his lips, and if feeding him took on a savagely sensual edge, well, it was only to be expected in such a setting and with such a man.
    ‘Tell me about your work,’ she said.
    ‘What would you like to know?’
    ‘What inspires you the most. What a regular day is like for you. Where you think your research will lead. Just the usual.’
    He took an oyster on the half shell from her outstretched hand. ‘That’s not the usual.’
    ‘It’s not?’ Charlotte briefly wondered what
was
the usual, and what type of woman Greyson would normally choose to spend time with. Sarah hadn’t been a shallow woman by any stretch of the imagination and Greyson’s mother had been downright formidable. Perhaps his taste ran more to sweetly obliging types these days. ‘Sorry.’
    Greyson devoured the oyster and set the shellto the side of the plate where Charlotte had been neatly stacking them. ‘I like the element of discovery that comes with the research,’ he said at last. ‘I like exploring the applications that stem from such a discovery.’
    ‘Ever think of being an archaeologist?’ she asked dryly.
    ‘I prefer the living world,’ he murmured. ‘Ancient cities can be dazzling but they aren’t my passion. Plant interactions are.’
    ‘And then there’s the travel,’ she said.
    ‘Exactly. As for a regular day, it varies. At the moment I’m here on the boat, sitting in front of a laptop for most of the day, running the stats on experimental results. It’s data entry at its most pedestrian—until you find something. And I never know what I’ll find until I find it, or where it will lead until I get there. That’s the beauty of it.’
    ‘A man who savours the journey.’
    ‘Don’t you?’ he countered.
    ‘I used to.’ Charlotte stared past him, out over the water and the increasingly dusky sky. ‘And then somewhere in my mid twenties I started wondering what it might be like to stay in one place for a while. So instead of scraping away at how other people lived, I took the Sydney uni job and tried to put something of what allthose ancient civilisations had taught me into practice.’
    ‘What did they teach you?’
    ‘That sooner or later everyone needs a home. An environment they can control. A place to retreat to. Somewhere that brings them peace.’
    ‘And does your apartment by the bridge feel like a home?’ he asked quietly.
    ‘I’ve been asking myself the same question for a while now.’ Charlotte shrugged and looked out over the water. ‘Sooner or later I’m going to have to decide what to do about Aurora’s house. I really don’t need two.’
    ‘Which one’s closer to your workplace?’
    ‘The apartment. But Aurora’s has more sentimental value. It’s the closest thing to a childhood home that I’ve got. We used to make a point of going back there at least once a year.’
    ‘For how long?’
    ‘A couple of weeks,’ said Charlotte. ‘A month if I was lucky.’
    ‘What about school?’ asked Greyson.
    ‘We used the New South Wales distance education system,’ said Charlotte. ‘Tailored for children who travelled, children who roamed. Aurora supplemented it, of course. She had a knack for making the past come alive so