Her Dom's Secret Past Read online

  Chapter Two

  Anabelle

  I checked the weather—those clouds were still on the horizon, but the forecast assured me they’d burn off later. Twenty-one Celsius. Fine, I could live with that. I cleaned up from breakfast, brushed my teeth, and tried to do something with my hair but gave up. I had short hair, cut a little above my shoulders. It was very curly and I usually attacked it with a straightener to coax it into some semblance of order as a bob, but I figured, being on holidays, why bother and let it do whatever it liked.

  I went gray, actually white, years ago, and now I dyed my hair whatever color took my fancy. This month it had a few pink and purple streaks. Anyway, I left my locks to run free and set my clothes from yesterday in the washing machine. Then I remembered the bread delivery. Some nice fresh bread would be great.

  I found the folder with general information in it. Reading it told me I had to ring before nine if I wanted anything delivered for the day, and it would then be dropped off around twelve. I ordered a baguette and two multi-grained bread rolls. The nice man on the other end of the phone told me to put the bread box out, and if I wasn’t there, he would leave them in it. He also said if I included a note for my next day’s order each time, I wouldn’t have to ring through daily.

  “I’m Guy, Miss Rowley. Just put it on the table on the verandah. Make sure you shut it. The ’roos like to investigate.”

  “Thanks, but I discovered that this morning. Got checked out by a big male who then stole my toast.”

  Guy gave a hearty laugh.

  “Yeah, that’d be right. I know the one you mean. Big guy with a harem of about five girls and a few young ones?”

  “That’s him. He put a paw on my hand and I nearly freaked. Thought he was going to have me for breakfast.”

  “He thinks he owns at least half the beach and was probably making sure you weren’t a threat to his girls. There’s a big fat wombat that lives close to your villa as well, got a burrow there. Keep your eye out for him. He’s pretty tame, actually, lived here for years and very friendly. But watch out, though. He’s a real bulldozer so we call him Rolly.”

  “I’ll look out for him.”

  “Oh, and I’d better tell you, he has a real love for apples.”

  After thanking Guy and hanging up, I decided to go for a walk along the beach up to the restaurant and see what was beyond. Once I grabbed a hat, a pair of sandals, and sunglasses, I headed off after remembering to put out the bread bin with a scribbled note for tomorrow’s order including a couple of Danish pastries—I’d have them for my breakfast. The water seemed colder this morning, or maybe it was because it was still early and the sun wasn’t all that warm yet. Still, I walked along the water’s edge, carrying my sandals and enjoying the crispness of the water against my bare feet. Every now and again I’d pick up a shell or piece of driftwood, check them out, and then toss them back onto the sand. I reached the headland and put my sandals on as I climbed up on the rocks and gazed around.

  The restaurant had an outdoor area perched on the top of the promontory. I walked around the bottom of the boundary until I came against a rather formidable, very high rock wall. Unless I was an expert in rock climbing and had some equipment, I wouldn’t get any further. I spent the rest of the morning poking in rock pools, annoying tiny crabs, and breathing in the fresh, salty air.

  After a lunch of the fresh bread rolls piled high with cold slaw, tomatoes, and cheese, I took a book down to that rock I’d seen yesterday after I realized it would only be inaccessible at high tide. After slathering on sunscreen, I threw a towel on the rock and then settled down to read, my sun hat jammed on my head. The forecast had been right—a mild day, and those heavy clouds had long disappeared. Everything seemed still, and even the waves seemed idle and gentle. It was pleasant and soothing. The mild ebb and flow of the waves created their own soft music. Then the occasional cry of a gull added to the background sounds. I spent more time daydreaming or staring at the water than reading.

  I felt lazy, and cleansed. This was exactly why I was here and it was working. I saw a sea eagle dive down between a steady stream of waves, and he rose with a fish held tight in his talons. He flew overhead and then landed near the bluff to eat his catch. A few seagulls rode the small waves, bobbing about, getting close to the wave-washed rocks next to me. I watched as they all rose at the same time. They then flew further out to sea before landing on the water again. Once more they rode the gentle surf in. Finally, this time when they flew, they settled on the beach, preening or merely looking out to sea.

  I dropped my book beside me, realizing I wasn’t going to get any reading done. I lay back against the rock, sighing loudly. How lovely it would be to be able to relax like this every day. No cares, no worries, no work. No crazy, demanding clients, only peaceful scenery with the sound of waves and a few squawking gulls to break the silence.

  After a few hours, I noticed the tide coming in, so I gathered up my things and walked back to the villa, stopping every now and again to poke into a rock pool or pick up something that had caught my eye.

  That evening I fired up the barbecue and made some delicious grilled vegetables with some tofu marinated in honey and soy sauce. It tasted delicious, especially with the fresh baguette. I sat on the patio to eat then watched the moon rise. I’d never seen so many stars. Without city lights, the sky was a brilliant display of twinkling stars and to say I was enchanted was an understatement.

  I tried to identify the constellations until my yawning became more demanding. I decided it was time for bed.

  ****

  When I woke next morning and had breakfast, it was unseasonably warm. The forecast was for a storm this evening and around ten I decided to take a plunge. Changing into my old swimsuit, I ran down to the beach and, before I changed my mind, jumped in.

  At first, the cold took my breath away, but after swimming a little, I soon warmed up. Lying on my back, I floated and let the waves lift me back and forth. There was barely a hint of wind. The surf was extremely calm, but I still kept my eye on the shore, not wanting to drift too far out. I wasn’t sure what the rips were here. Not only that, I didn’t want to be on a hungry shark’s breakfast menu. After twenty minutes, I waded back on shore and walked quickly up to the cabin.

  At the foot of the patio stairs on one side was an outdoor shower and I was able to get the sand off me before entering the house. Once I’d showered and washed my hair, I grabbed a few pieces of fruit and went outside. Snagging a long cushion off one of the sun lounges, I took it onto the grass outside. I realized I could use the steps as a backrest if I put the cushion on the bottom one. Then I relaxed while the sun dried my hair.

  It was probably only ten minutes later that I bit into an apple. Maybe it was coincidence, or maybe it was the sound of the crunchy apple, but I heard a loud snort and saw the long grasses near me sway back and forth as something came rapidly toward me.

  It reminded me of that scene in Jurassic Park where the raptors took down all the film extras. The grass was only about a half a meter high where the movement was. I could thankfully cross off Velociraptors, still, I held my breath. The rustling grew louder, the snorts more frantic as they got closer.

  Was it Rolly?

  At least I thought and hoped that was what it was. I did sigh with relief when suddenly he appeared—Rolly. He spied me and the enormous wombat bore down on me. Not everyone might know what a fully grown wombat looks like.

  If one were to imagine a fat, heavy, and hairy block of wood about one meter long and weighing around thirty-five kilos, that was a wombat. With four stubby thick legs and that was it. They did have a very cute face and ears. As well, they had long, sharp claws for digging, and when they wanted to go somewhere, it was best not to get in their way. Nothing stopped a wombat from going where he wanted to. They were single-minded in their purpose. They would just walk over or through a person, and they honestly didn’t care.

  That was exactly what Rolly did.

&nb
sp; Grunting like a little fat pig, he barged toward me faster than I’d thought possible. Before I could move, he steamrolled across me, crushing my lap in a determined effort to get my apple. Those claws fastened on my arm, trying to pull the apple close to his mouth. I really had no choice but to give it to him. He snuffled his approval, wriggled himself down, and then happily munched away. When he’d finished, he sniffed the air and, not smelling any more fruit, settled alongside of me with his head resting on my leg.

  I’d like to say we talked of shoes and ships and sealing wax, but, alas, his thoughts were likely still on the apple. He made this funny little sucking sound and occasionally a loud, hoarse, coughing sound.

  It was one of those moments I wanted to keep alive forever.

  Now I was no longer getting squashed, I felt so privileged. Rolly let me scratch between his ears and then rolled over for me to do the same to his tummy. He finally rolled back over and went to sleep. That was when I discovered that wombats, or at least Rolly, snored—loudly.

  He slept alongside me for about forty minutes before shaking himself, sniffing the air, and then trundling back into the long grass. I sat there another ten minutes trying to remember it all from his coarse gray-brown fur, his cute ears, to his long whiskers, and to his sharp claws and long teeth. It was imprinted in my memory forever.

  Chapter Three

  Anabelle

  After a light lunch of salad, I decided to read. Taking my book outside, I sat on what was fast becoming my favorite rock. This time, I was determined to actually read, and I did. I’d become completely absorbed in my book, The Dark Lake by Sarah Bailey. Maybe two hours later, I lifted my head, thinking it was time to go back to the cabin and get a drink. When I closed my book and was about to stand, I held my breath quickly.

  A whispered masculine voice from my left had my heart suddenly pounding.

  “Don’t move.”

  To say I was petrified was an understatement. All the air was sucked from my lungs. I couldn’t have spoken even if I wanted to.

  “Slowly look to your right.”

  Somehow, I managed to turn my head, my fear increasing. Visions of my murder crammed into my brain. I expected to see someone with a gun, but then I almost cried aloud in relief. Not two meters from me was a large fur seal basking in the sun. That same deep voice softly spoke again, and I finally noticed a definite British accent.

  “I’ve been watching him for about ten minutes. I figured you were about to stand up and both of you would get a fright.”

  Get a fright?

  Hell, this guy had almost given me a heart attack!

  Still, I sat in silence, not moving, watching the seal. I could have almost reached out and touched him. I had no idea when he’d climbed out of the water and settled beside me, but now I was enamored. His beautiful fur was shades of brown from light to dark, with a darker eye-mask and unbelievably long white whiskers. His tiny ears appeared to have been stuck on as an afterthought. He opened his eyes then yawned, and I got a glimpse of his very sharp teeth. He scratched under his chin with a flipper and idly looked at me. Then he turned his head to study my unseen companion.

  Another yawn. He seemed to raise his head and stretch and then began to shuffle his way across the rocks. His passage brought him very close to me. I held my breath as he worked his way past my rock, his flank skimming my feet. Then with a graceful half-dive, half-slide, he went into the water. When he surfaced, he peeked back at us then disappeared under the waves. At last, I exhaled shakily. I couldn’t speak as I took in what had happened.

  “That was fucking amazing!” that most masculine voice said.

  Finally, I turned to see my companion. Oh hell!

  As close as the seal had been and sitting, near the other end of my large rock was an exceedingly handsome dark-skinned man. He seemed to unfold stiffly and stood slowly. Then he came over to my side of the rock. He towered over me but then perched himself gingerly on a smaller rock nearby. He searched out to sea where our friend had disappeared, shaking his head in wonder.

  “I never thought I’d ever get so close to a wild seal.” He turned back at me, his face lit up with sheer enjoyment. “Like I said, that was amazing.”

  Finally finding my voice, I answered, “Yes, it truly was.”

  “I managed to get some photos on my phone. Would you like me to send you copies?”

  Mm… This was tricky. Yes, I would have loved photographs, but it would mean giving out my number to a complete stranger, albeit a gorgeous one. He must have sensed the reason for my hesitation.

  He turned on a hundred-watt smile and my insides melted as he said, “Stupid idea. Of course you shouldn’t give out your number.” He appeared to think for a moment then said, “What if I get a USB stick and copy them?”

  “Please, I don’t want you to go to any trouble on my account.”

  “No trouble at all. I imagine you’d love a photo or two of that encounter.”

  “I would,” I said honestly with a grin. “I really would.”

  “Then it’s a deal. I’ve got a couple of USB sticks back at my place. Once I transfer the photos, I’ll drop one to you. I’m staying in one of the villas here.”

  Grateful, I replied, “Thank you.”

  “I always thought their fur was darker, but did you see how light it was in places?”

  “Yes, and those whiskers. They seemed to go on forever.”

  “And what about that mask?”

  “I know, he resembled a bandit.”

  “Or Zorro.”

  We laughed and chatted about the seal as I finally relaxed. I found myself mesmerized by his accent—very British but not upper class, more down to earth, like that lead actor in Luther. Actually, that was who he reminded me off—both with the voice and his handsome appearance. Wherever the accent was from, it was lovely. Maybe about ten minutes into our conversation, he introduced himself.

  “Gee, I’m rude. My name is John, John Ethan. In case you hadn’t guessed, I’m English, but now I live here in Australia.”

  Being super careful, I didn’t give my last name. But maybe I was being over-cautious.

  “Hi John, I’m Anabelle. I thought your accent was English but couldn’t tell where.”

  “I’m an East Londoner, Hackney.”

  While I wasn’t completely sure of where Hackney was, I could place London. I just nodded. He asked me what I thought of this place.

  “It’s lovely. I’ve only been here a few days but already I know I could get very used to living this way.”

  “Know what you mean. It’s the perfect place to recharge.” He nodded his head toward the horizon. “Although I think we’ve had the best part of today as far as the weather’s concerned.”

  While I’d been reading and we’d been chatting, the sky had started clouding over. The air had a distinct chill, and the breeze grew stronger. That forecast storm appeared to be rolling in. As well, the tide was coming in. Pretty soon, my rock would be surrounded by water. The waves now wore white caps and looked more threatening as they crashed nearby.

  I gathered my book and stood the same time as John did. Now I was on my feet, I realized John wasn’t just tall, he was huge. I was about one hundred and seventy-seven centimeters but John stood at least two hundred, maybe even two-oh-five. He was also well-muscled. The t-shirt he wore over jeans was well and truly filled out. He also had a neatly close-trimmed beard, and I could see quite a few gray hairs among the black. His black hair was cropped tight against his skin.

  If I were to hazard a guess, I would have put his age somewhere around mine, although he may have been older or even younger—I wasn’t that good at guessing ages. Up close, his skin took on the hue of rich dark chocolate and his eyes were almost black like pools of hidden mystery. I couldn’t help being attracted to him. He ticked every box on the list of imaginary ideal boyfriends every girl had.

  He looked down at me, and with a smile, held out his hand.

  “It was a pleasure to meet
you, especially under such wonderful circumstances. I’ll copy those photos and give them to you next time I see you. I’m here for nearly two more weeks.”

  As I shook his hand, I got that tingle of attraction I got when someone turned me on. I thanked him and offered up the fact I’d be here for about two weeks also.

  “Great, then I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”

  We slowly walked across the rocks together. Then John said goodbye and headed down the beach toward one of the other villas. As I climbed up the sandbank and onto my patio, I couldn’t help peeking back to see if John was still in sight. I noticed he seemed to limp. He must have felt me looking because he turned and waved as he disappeared behind the trees. Caught, I could only raise my hand in reply.

  After brushing the sand off my feet, I went inside. Glancing down, I gave a groan. I’d worn my worst pair of raggedy cut-off jeans and they were certainly not very flattering—I hadn’t thought I’d meet anyone. My only consolation was my legs were smooth, thanks to my laser treatment, as were my underarms and bikini line.

  I had been toying with the idea of getting more personal with the laser because my more intimate area had overgrown badly. The truth was a guy would need a guide, map, compass, and a machete to find his way through the dense jungle.

  It seemed I was suddenly coming back to life because I rushed into the bathroom and searched in my wet pack in the hopes I’d packed a razor. With a huge sigh of relief, I found not only had I included one but I’d even popped in my personal trimmer—I’d definitely need it to get through the thick undergrowth.

  Ten minutes later after some very interesting contortionist moves, I inspected myself in the mirror, trying to decide whether to shave it all off or leave a landing-strip rather than the neat trim I’d just given myself. In the end, I thought it would take too much work. I was definitely getting lasered when I got back home.

  Standing naked in the bathroom, I twisted this way and that to admire my plus-sized shape.

  A lot of people wouldn’t like it, but I did. I loved all my curves and wobbly bits. I loved having big boobs, although gravity was making them lower and lower each year. Maybe I could do with losing a few kilos, but I was fit and, more importantly, I was happy. I wasn’t one of those women who hated their body, I embraced mine. If people considered me fat, that was their problem, I considered myself Rubinesque. I didn’t think I looked my age either. Maybe it was the crazy hair, maybe it was the wrist tattoos—I had Sanskrit sayings on both wrists to celebrate my Buddhist beliefs. Whatever it was, I knew most people thought I was in my mid- to late-forties, which I found extremely flattering.