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‘Your family name is Italian,’ she said, ‘But you were born here, weren’t you? I know Monica was. Was it your parents who came from Italy?’
He took a sip of his coffee before leaning back in his chair and lacing his fingers in his lap. A delaying tactic, she knew, because the coffee was still way too hot to drink. For a while she wondered if he was going to answer her question at all.
‘No,’ he said at last. ‘It was my grandfather who came out. He was barely out of his twenties, and desperate to work anywhere. He landed a job on a tobacco farm up at Mareeba.’ He pointed to the dark shadow of mountains that loomed above the line of lights along the coast, marking the start of the hinterland. ‘It’s an hour or so up from Cairns on the Atherton Tablelands. He worked hard, and in a few years he’d earned enough to buy his own place. Married the daughter of another tobacco-farming family and was probably planning on starting a dynasty. Didn’t work out that way. My father happened along late, and they never had any more kids.’
She nodded. So he’d grown up without uncles, aunts and cousins, with the extended family back in Italy? That kind of explained why the guest list was short on family.
‘Did your father take over the farm?’
‘For a while, until he decided that sugar was the way to go and made the switch. He did all right, too, until the bottom dropped out of the sugar market. He made a few bad decisions and was wiped out.’
‘Oh, but I assumed…’
He smiled. ‘That I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth? I was. Only to have it wrenched out when I was barely out of high school. My dad never got over the loss. He felt like he’d betrayed his father’s trust and let my mother down. He was never the same after that.’
He was staring at his hands and she knew he was thinking about his parents; Sophie didn’t have to ask. Monica had spoken of the car being swept from the road into a swollen creek in the midst of near-cyclonic conditions. She’d told her about the police arriving at the house to give them the grim news that their parents were never coming home. She’d told her how Daniel had held her while she’d cried that night, and every night for a week, and told her he’d never let anything bad happen to her.
No wonder he was so protective of his little sister.
She was the only family he had.
Strange, how she’d divorced that story from her first impressions of Daniel. It didn’t fit the picture she’d had in her mind of the arrogant businessman who got his own way whichever way he could. But it was this man, sitting beside her, who’d cradled his grieving sister in his arms and tried to soothe away her tears. It was this man who’d practically raised her.
‘Your parents would be proud of you with all you’ve achieved.’
He scoffed. ‘Well, when you’ve lived in luxury, you know what you’re missing when you’ve not got it. It’s a powerful motivator.’
‘I’m sure there’s more to it than that. You did it the hard way. You had to drop out of university to look after Monica.’
He shrugged. ‘Maybe. I got lucky, too. I stumbled into a job in a property-management business and it was a good fit. The property market was just starting to take off when I started dabbling. It paid off.’
Coming from one of Queensland’s richest men, it was a massive understatement.
He downed his cooling coffee in one long gulp and stood. ‘This is boring.’
She pushed back her own chair, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. ‘I’m sorry. Dinner was wonderful, thank you. But I should leave you now.’
He was at her side in a heartbeat, his hand curled around her neck. ‘I don’t want you to leave me. I just don’t want to talk about me.’
‘What would you rather talk about?’
‘Who said anything about talking?’
CHAPTER NINE
SHE would have laughed. She wanted to laugh, to dispel the tension that had suddenly weighted down the air until it was heavy and thick with anticipation. But the look in his eyes told her it was no accident.
‘All night,’ he whispered, his eyes on her mouth, his other hand joining the first behind her neck. ‘All that time we were sitting here, this is really what I wanted to taste.’
He dipped his head, his mouth brushing hers, his tongue flicking over her lips. ‘Mmm, salt,’ he said, licking her taste from his lips.
‘I was swimming,’ she said. ‘At the beach.’
‘I like it,’ he said, already making another pass. ‘And coffee, and something sweet.’
His kisses grew deeper, his lips coaxing hers apart, his tongue tasting her, exploring, inviting her into the dance.
