What Love Sounds Like (2 page)

All amusement fled. Attractive women were a permanent fixture of his world, a by-product of his status. They were never a novelty or a distraction. So what’d just happened? When Ms. Windsor’s auburn curls had fallen around her face when they’d shaken hands all he could breathe in was the scent of apples. All he could do was stare. Then just when his self-control had righted itself, she’d smiled at Tilly. A smile so gentle, so accepting, he forgot about the room’s high temperature. Forgot about where he was and why he was there.

He folded his arms across his chest. This infernal heat was taking a blowtorch to his composure, melting his sanity and liquefying his focus. He needed this assessment wrapped up. Fast. He needed a verdict and a course of action. He needed his life back. He shifted on the seat. The sofa leather creaked in protest.

‘Feeling restless, Mr. Reid? My secretary could provide you with a glass of iced water? Tilly, you’ll be fine here with me, won’t you?’

He barely registered the instant nod of his niece’s blonde head. A fleeting memory teased his subconscious. Ms. Windsor and her razor-sharp stare reminded him of someone.

‘I couldn’t leave and miss the fun.’

‘Sorry to disappoint you but Tilly and I’ll be the ones having fun.’ She swept a hand over the pile of blocks as if displaying a prize on a game show. ‘Unless you’d like to join us?’

Join them. His fingers tugged at his tie which suddenly choked like a silk noose around his neck. That would mean interacting with Tilly and bracing himself for yet another assault upon his ordered world. ‘As I said before I’m quite comfortable where I am.’

Ms. Windsor’s only response was a slight lift of a fine brow before she again turned her attention to building a rectangular-shaped pool with Tilly.

He shrugged off his jacket and draped it beside him. He refolded his arms against the urge to retrieve his handkerchief and mop his forehead. With luck Ms. Windsor would attribute the sheen covering his skin to the sauna-high temperature and not to bone-numbing dread.

How could such a tiny figure like his ward create such chaos? His life had never been so out of control. With every clutch of Tilly’s hand on his trousers, with every sob that shook her shoulders, the noose around his neck tightened. He was so battle-weary. So tired from fighting to keep his and Tilly’s lives separate. So exhausted from feeling out of his depth.

When Ms. Windsor appeared unfamiliar with Tilly’s details, panic had hit him like a mini tsunami. He’d been assured by the city expert that she was the best person to deal with his niece’s unintelligible speech. She had to know what to do to help Tilly, for he sure didn’t. He knew nothing about children and even less about parenting. Business ventures, yes, but the terrifying world of rainbow ponies called Stardust, no. It was as though Tilly inhabited some foreign country and spoke a language he didn’t understand. A country that was filled with nothing but fairies, furry animals and…feelings.

He closed his eyes and withheld a groan. Why had Brad chosen him as Tilly’s guardian? He didn’t even know his younger brother had married, let alone had fathered a child.

Kade’s eyes opened to the sound of Tilly’s halting speech as she instructed Ms. Windsor on where to place the next block. At last his ward was talking, or trying to. The sooner she could be assessed, the sooner she could learn to speak and he’d be able to employ someone more qualified than himself to raise her.

The sooner the noose would slip from around his neck.

Mia stared at the sea of names and dates swimming before her on the computer screen. Diagnosing Tilly’s speech delay with her substitution of ‘t’ for ‘k’, and ‘d’ for ‘g’, had been the easy part. Finding enough time to work with her was going to be the problem. She attempted to swallow but her dry mouth had already consumed its quota of moisture. She needed to end this appointment and not only because of the heat. Tension rippled along her vertebrae. She had to get this mirror image of her father, and all that he represented, out of her office.

She swivelled on her chair to look at Kade. He’d removed his jacket and loosened his tie but otherwise he reclined on the sofa as though he were sitting in an air-conditioned Sydney penthouse.

She strove for civility. ‘How long are you planning on staying out west?’

‘However long it takes for Tilly to receive the help she needs.’

Mia blanked out the surprising seriousness of his reply. She might have had less trouble believing him if his expression didn’t equal the chill of her air-cooler when working and if he’d been able to comfort his niece.

‘We might rival Dubai with the heat but you do know there’s no seven-star service out here.’

‘My needs are simple. Food, sleep and…’ he eyed off the contrary air-conditioner, ‘cool air.’

Now was not a good time for laughter to gleam in his blue eyes.

‘Summer here,’ she said in what she hoped passed as a comment and not a snap, ‘only has one temperature setting and today is just a taste of what will be on the weather menu.’

Stiffness reclaimed his features. ‘Is warning me about the weather your way of saying my niece is too hard to work with?’

‘No, not at all.’ She looked toward the play area where Tilly made splashing sounds as Stardust leapt in and out of the pretend pool. ‘Tilly does have a speech delay but with appropriate therapy a positive outcome is achievable.’

‘How long…until my ward’s speech can be understood?’

Had a ragged note of desperation torn through his words? Impossible.

‘With all speech therapy it’s important we retain perspective. Even though Tilly is close to five, she hasn’t mastered the three-year old sounds ‘k’ and ‘g’ that occur at the back of the throat. So she substitutes the easier sounds ‘t’ and ‘d’ instead. Hence ‘Kade’ becomes ‘Tade’ and ‘goat’ becomes ‘doat’. Her programme would involve mastering the ‘k’ and ‘g’ sounds and then, like a ladder, progressing up a series of steps. A single step may take over a week to achieve and I must warn you we can only work on one sound at a time.’

His lips thinned.

Mia gritted her teeth. She was in no mood to be patient with yet another man who demanded an instant fix. ‘This is the outback town of Whylandra, not the Sydney CBD. And this is a child we’re discussing, not a business negotiation. There are no bonuses for reaching targets early.’

‘Believe me, I know.’ He speared a hand through his thick hair. ‘I’m only trying to do the best that I can for my ward.’

Astonishment held her silent. The sincerity of his voice, the earnest line between his brows, he appeared almost…human. She studied the computer screen. The heat was melting her defences, sucking the life out of her common sense. For a nanosecond she’d actually considered the possibility a heart beat beneath his designer shirt.

She’d once thought the same about her father.

‘Have you finalised a place to stay?’ she asked after a long moment.

‘Yes. Berrilea.’

An edge hardened his voice as though he were telling her information she should have already known. The accommodation details must have been in the unsalvageable paragraphs of the client notes.

Berrilea.
She’d heard of little else but the historic property and its helicopter-flying city owner who was returning to the family home. Rumour had it that Whylandra’s only hair salon had doubled its business in the last week. Wait until the bush telegraph got wind that the very eligible bachelor had a ward in tow. Every maternal instinct in the district would be taken off the shelf and polished until it shone. Just as well her interest would be one of strict professionalism.

She bit the inside of her cheek and looked across at Tilly’s sweet flushed face as she played with Stardust and softly hummed. Exhaustion smudged dark bruises beneath her eyes. A single meeting with Mia would sentence the little girl to a three-hour round trip.

‘You couldn’t have picked a further away place to stay,’ she said. ‘Berrilea’s quite a drive from here.’

‘Yes, I know. That’s why your flexibility is much appreciated.’

What was he talking about? She was a speech pathologist, not a gymnast.

‘Of course,’ he said, ‘it goes without saying that I’ll make your co-operation financially worth your while.’

There it was. The single universal truth of her father’s world and of this man’s world. Money solved everything. A world she’d worked so hard to distance herself from.

‘That won’t be necessary.’ Mia was past caring if her words sounded abrupt. ‘It’s my job to help your niece the best way I can.’

She scrolled through the computer time-table. Blood throbbed in her ears. Her frayed nerves were unravelling as fast as the heat dried her blouse. She had to complete this assessment and get this man out of her office. She had to plug the leak on her memories.

On Monday she was heading to Sydney for a fortnight to work with a child called Matilda. Her old university mentor had sent an SOS that Mia hadn’t been able to ignore. Yesterday’s power surge had knocked out the internet as well as the air-conditioner and her travel details and paperwork were trapped in her inbox. But it would be safe to assume she’d have an opportunity to see Tilly before she left for the city.

‘Right, Tilly’s first appointment can be nine o’clock Monday morning.’ She threw Kade a quick glance. ‘Is that suitable?’

He nodded.

She entered Tilly’s details onto the computer. ‘The next appointment will be in two weeks, again at nine o’clock. We can discuss further dates then.’ She typed in the second appointment details and stood. Relief rendered her light-headed. ‘I believe we’re done.’

Kade too came to his feet. ‘Not so fast. I understood our arrangement provided more than a single initial appointment?’

‘Pardon?’

‘I understood that Tilly was to receive back-to-back intensive therapy?’

She squared her shoulders. His sub-zero tone wasn’t going to work on her. ‘We don’t have an
arrangement
.’

Other than for all future appointments you’ll be in the waiting room.

‘Didn’t you receive an email outlining the change in plans?’

‘Change of plans? I’ve received no email. The power surge didn’t only take out the air-conditioner, the internet is down too.’

His gaze narrowed before amusement kindled in his blue eyes.

She pulled her heavy hair off her forehead and fought the slow burn of her short fuse. The loss of her cyber-lifeline to the world had been no laughing matter. Today was day two of battling email-withdrawal symptoms.

‘Well, when it is working be sure to check Dr. Sheldon’s email,’ Kade said.

Her hair slipped through her fingers to fall around her face. ‘Dr. Sheldon? Dr. B–B– Bruce Sheldon from the University of Sydney?’

She didn’t need the return of her childhood stammer to confirm what every beat of her racing heart told her. She’d been again catapulted out of her comfort zone.

‘Yes, that’s the one.’ The left corner of Kade’s mouth lifted. He turned to his niece. ‘You’re looking forward to Ms. Windsor coming to stay at Berrilea with us for a fortnight, aren’t you, Matilda?’

A CAR DOOR slammed outside Kade’s makeshift office in his grandmother’s old sitting room. He stretched his stiff arms above his head and leaned back in his chair. It would be nine o’clock. The indomitable Ms. Windsor would be right on time.

His arms lowered. He shouldn’t have doubted she’d not honour their agreement or have allowed the dismay widening her eyes at the realisation he and Tilly were her Sydney clients whisper to him that she’d not show. If he was a betting man he’d have wagered that nothing would rattle Ms. Windsor’s composure. But the prospect of her coming to Berrilea had for some reason drained all colour from her cheeks.

He stared unseeingly at the lap-top screen before him. He’d also have wagered the vulnerability that pinched her face wouldn’t have triggered a strange uneasiness within him. But it had. He’d barely time to honour the terms of his brother’s will, let alone ponder the shadows in a pair of pretty amber eyes.

Money is as important as breathing, son. Don’t ever lose focus.

Even out here, in the middle of nowhere, his father’s edict applied. He couldn’t afford to slow the momentum of Matchtec, the dating agency of the corporate world. Seth Black, his ambitious protégé, would have tried out the fit of his CEO chair before Kade had even turned the ignition key in his luxury car.

The doorbell rang. The tap of Mrs. Shepherd’s shoes sounded in the hall as his housekeeper heeded the call. Martha, the wife of his farm manager, Patrick, would show Ms. Windsor into the drawing room where Tilly had set up camp with all her books, toys and DVDs.

He pushed himself to his feet and quit the room. Five minutes would be all that it took to go downstairs and check Ms. Windsor had everything she required to do her job. Then he’d finish looking over the contract due on the Sydney lawyer’s desk within the hour.

He grasped the staircase balustrade as he descended the stairs two at a time. Things with his niece would soon be running as smoothly as the polished cedar sliding beneath his palm. Tilly’s speech would be understandable and finally their lives would diverge to run along separate well-oiled tracks. Dr. Sheldon had assured him Mia was the best speech pathologist he’d ever trained. He’d also praised her commitment and work ethic. Twice.

He reached the hallway. The sound of a woman’s and child’s mirth greeted him. His steps faltered. Dr. Sheldon had mentioned nothing about Mia’s laughter possessing a light-heartedness that echoed long after the musical notes faded. He continued walking. He had a corporation to run and a bottom-line to watch. He had no time for fun and frivolity. And neither did Ms. Windsor. He pushed open the drawing room door with a firm hand.

Beside Tilly, Ms. Windsor sat on the cream lounge, a poster girl for professionalism. Her curls were tamed into some sort of too-tight concoction on top of her head and instead of a damp blouse she now wore an immaculate blue-and-white checked shirt tucked into black trousers. At her feet rested a plastic green crate filled with colour-coded files. His tension eased. Ms. Windsor looked efficient, capable and not at all fun. Perfect.