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She wasn’t quite sure what prompted her reply. It did not come from any urge to be contrary. ‘West,’ she said decisively, answering some strong intuition that no other direction would serve the need she felt to find a special place.
‘You want to go to the Blue Mountains?’
Was it surprise that wiped out Damien’s smile, or did he dislike her choice?
‘Do you mind?’
His eyes quickly scanned hers. ‘Of course not.’ He dismissed the question.
She shrugged. ‘I don’t know why, but it feels right.’
‘Whatever you want,’ he said, nodding agreement as he started the car.
Natalie relaxed contentedly as the powerful engine thrummed into action. The lambswool seat-cover was heaven to sink into. The Jaguar SL suited Damien, she decided. Sensual comfort and high-level performance. A ripple of excitement spread through her at the thought of how he would translate both those aspects of his character into lovemaking. Or would the wild passion he had briefly unleashed yesterday slip out of his control?
She looked at the hands guiding the steering-wheel, strong, capable, yet so knowingly sensitive in their touch. Her gaze drifted to his muscular forearms, left bare by the navy and cream T-shirt he wore, then dropped to his powerful thighs where the denim of his blue jeans was tightly stretched. Was it the casual clothes that made her more physically aware of him, or was it the memory of how his body had felt pressed to hers?
She studied his profile. What woman wouldn’t find him attractive? How was it possible she could have been unmoved by his pursuit of her before the accident? Natalie shook her head in helpless bemusement. She must have been a blind fool.
It was a beautiful day, brilliant sunshine from a cloudless blue sky, a day befitting the start of something new. Natalie sighed her satisfaction. She might not know precisely where she was going, but she was certainly in the right company.
‘Is being with me causing
any problem with your business, Damien?’ she asked, struck by the realisation he would normally be at work since this was a weekday.
He laughed. ‘I wouldn’t care if it did.’
‘That’s rather a cavalier attitude for the boss of a company, isn’t it?’
‘You are more important to me.’ He slanted her a sizzling look that made Natalie’s skin tingle with heat.
There were years of frustration behind that look. With fulfilment of his long repressed desires in the offing, Damien was not about to let anything get in his way. Natalie couldn’t blame him for the attitude. Patience did have its limits, and Damien felt pressured by the threat of her hating him when she remembered all there was to remember.
Was she being reckless in taking this plunge with him now?
Natalie squashed the thought, angry with the doubt, determined to trust her feeling for him no matter what eventuated. Damien had sworn he had done nothing to deserve her animosity and she believed him. She must have been dreadfully twisted up inside to have misjudged him so badly. She would get the misunderstanding sorted out when her full memory returned.
The choice to head towards the mountains should indicate something about herself. She searched for a memory that made sense of it. She suddenly recollected being a tourist guide at Noosa, taking people on bush-walks through the national forest and...yes...to the Glasshouse Mountains, so named by Captain Cook because of their conical shape. She had always enjoyed those day-trips.
The Blue Mountains to the west of Sydney were a long way from south-east Queensland, but Natalie was sure the peaks and cliffs and valleys would have a similar appeal to her. It definitely felt right to go there.
Satisfied she had made a relevant connection, Natalie was smiling happily to herself when other images of the past flashed into her mind: painting in her spare time, mostly landscapes that were readily saleable at a price most people could afford. She had been quite good at capturing a scene, although far from being an outstanding talent. Of course, it was much easier to experiment with colours and different palettes on the computer. It was marvellous how the whole aspect of a picture could be changed and polished in a manner no traditional artist would attempt.
It surprised and delighted Natalie that these last thoughts followed on so naturally. It boosted her confidence in her ability to fulfil the contract with her publisher. Sharon Kippax was right. The knowledge was there in her mind to be tapped when she was ready to start again.
‘Have you met Sharon Kippax, Damien?’
‘Never.’
‘Do you know anything about children’s books?’
‘Only what I remember from my childhood.’ He gave her a reminiscent smile. ‘My mother used to read to us every night. Bedtime stories were a ritual. I think they’re great for kids.’
The warmth in his voice reminded her of his desire to have a child of his own...with her. She formed a mental picture of Damien reading a book she had illustrated to their children, pointing out Mummy’s vision of the story with pride and love. It tugged on her heart, making it ache with longing.
She could not remember her own father. He had been killed in a cyclone trying to help other people to safety. She had been only two years old at the time and her mother had never remarried. Natalie had envied her friends who had fathers and brothers and sisters. It was no fun being an only child and she now recognised that her mother had not found it easy being a single parent.
‘Do you come from a big family?’ she asked.
