Black Ice - Sandy Curtis

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with the polished timber floor and timber railings separating the dining area. She ran an appreciative hand over a large wooden carving silhouetted against the white wall. It was a set of three reef fish swimming through coral, all carved from the one piece of timber, fine details of eyes and scales etched into the smooth wood.

      'It's a Nobby Clark,' she spoke almost reverently. 'The man's a genius with timber.' And this little beauty would have cost a few thousand dollars, she thought. She looked around. 'Where's the kitchen?'

      The house was rectangular in design, with an open plan living area that took advantage of the hillside position by leading out onto a wide, covered verandah. Daniel led the way into the kitchen, and Kirri saw the verandah also fronted those windows. Although tall eucalyptus trees grew up from the yard below, they didn't obstruct the view out across the clear water of the bay.

      'Coffee's in the pantry.'

      Daniel's voice so close to her sent a quiver through her body. Damn the man, he was far too disturbing, and she still hadn't figured out just what about him was so appealing. He filled the electric jug, took two mugs from a cupboard, placed them on the bench. Kirri took the coffee tin from the pantry, and spooned some into the drip-filter unit next to the jug. Then she placed a teabag in one of the mugs.

      Within minutes the aroma of freshly brewing coffee filled the kitchen. Kirri added hot water to her teabag, took milk from the refrigerator, poured a little into her mug, and raised an eyebrow at Daniel. He nodded, and she poured some into the second mug. Daniel placed one spoonful of sugar in her mug, and one and a half in the other.

      She was returning the milk to the refrigerator when the significance of his action hit her. 'How do you know how much sugar I like?'

      The smile that touched his lips didn't reach his eyes. 'Just a guess.'

      She smiled back, but a tendril of apprehension curled in her stomach.

      They sat on the verandah and gazed out at the calm waters of the bay. The coffee's heat eased the tension in Daniel's stomach, but did little for his throbbing head. He hoped the painkillers the doctor had given him would kick in soon or he'd have a lot of trouble formulating the questions he wanted to ask Kirri. Finally he spoke.

      'Tell me about your daughter.' His gaze had shifted slightly, so he caught the tiny tremor she quickly concealed. She tucked her flyaway curls behind one ear and took a sip from her mug before she replied.

      'Catelyn? She's a terror.' Kirri couldn't seem to help the smile that lit her face. 'She's impatient, inquisitive. She's also the sweetest little girl I've ever known. She charms the socks off everyone she meets and has her grandparents wrapped around her dainty little finger.'

      'How old is she?'

      'Fifteen months.'

      Daniel's fingers tightened on his mug, but his body stayed relaxed in the canvas director's chair. His mind raced, figures tumbling, and he almost groaned aloud as they added up to what he suspected. If he'd wondered before how Kirri could have forgotten him, it was nothing compared to the horrible sense of betrayal that swept him now. But she genuinely appeared not to remember him. Was it an act? Was she playing him for a fool?

      He fought to keep his tone casual. 'Does her father dote on her too?'

      She flinched as though he had struck her. The mug in her hand shook as she stood abruptly. As she turned towards him her smile was bright. Too bright.

      'I'd better get back to the gallery. Jenny's on her own.'

      It seemed to Daniel that she took great care not to come too close to him as she walked past. He hated to see the stiffness in her body, as though she were fighting to control some inner demon. It was such a contrast to the easy, sensual grace he remembered.

      With great care he eased his long body out of the chair. A wave of dizziness hit him, and he reached out for the verandah rail. Just as his left hand touched it, Kirri's arm slid around his waist and steadied him. He closed his eyes. Her warmth, her scent invaded his body. For a moment he was swept back, to a balmy Fall day, a riverboat's engines throbbing through the deck beneath his feet, and Kirri … Kirri with her long red hair teased by a fickle New Orleans' breeze, her clear blue eyes misted by love and desire as she pressed herself against him …

      'Daniel, are you all right?' She was shaking his arm. He opened his eyes, suddenly realising he was pulling her closer, his head bent as though to kiss her, to taste once more the sweetness he knew he would find.

      He dropped his hand, gripped the railing tighter with the other, and drew in a shuddering breath. Between the pounding in his head and the pain in his leg he wouldn't have thought it possible to become aroused, but the rush of heat to his groin was evidence to the contrary.

      'Just a bit dizzy,' he muttered, and turned away from her. Hell, but his emotions were in a mess. Being angry with her for the callous way she had treated him didn't appear to stop his desire for her. Like the pain that ate its way through his heart, it seemed impossible to control. And right now he didn't have the energy to cope with either.

      'I'm going to lie down.' He looked back at her, and the anxious look in her eyes confused him. How could she look like she cared about his welfare when she'd abandoned him so easily two years ago? Something was wrong, badly wrong, but right now he was in no shape to question her.

      'Will you be all right?' Her hand half lifted towards him, then dropped to her side.

      He nodded. 'I've got the painkillers the doctor gave me.'

      'What if you get worse during the night?'

      'I guess I'll just have to call the emergency phone number. Triple zero, isn't it?'

      Kirri nodded, then walked to the kitchen, tossing words back at him, 'I'll write my mobile phone number on that pad next to the phone in your kitchen, just in case. If you need anything, just call me.'

      Daniel watched as she disappeared into the kitchen, then seconds later she walked into the living room. 'I'll let myself out. I'll call around tomorrow to see how you are.'

      The front door closed and he was alone. He'd been alone for many long months, but now there was a particular poignancy to the feeling. For the first time in all those months he realised that, like his father, he was destined to love only one woman in his life.

      And it was obvious that woman didn't even remember him.

      CHAPTER THREE

      Kirri tried to shake off the feeling of unease that had gripped her since Daniel Brand had walked into her art gallery this afternoon. The man was damn attractive, there was no disputing the fact, but the roiling emotions evident in his eyes had been almost frightening in their intensity.

      She locked the back door to the gallery and tossed the keys into her shoulder bag. Within minutes she walked to where she had parked her van. The crowds at Noosa never seemed to slacken; there were even more people out and about now, in the relative cool of early evening, than there had been during the regular shopping hours. Board-shorted surfies with bronze skin and flopping sandals shared the pavement with middle-aged matrons dressed in immaculate designer resort wear.

      Pedestrians spilled across the roads, slowing the traffic around the parking areas to a patience-testing crawl. Kirri smiled. Cairns enjoyed the same tourist resort feeling. To hurry was almost a crime.

      At the main shopping centre she pulled into a ten minute parking bay outside a bank. She walked over and slipped a bag into the night deposit chute. The takings had improved this week, but after paying the expensive rent and Jenny's wages she knew there still wasn't a high enough level of profit to vindicate her decision to open this second gallery.

      She was a serious artist, but the fine art she loved to paint couldn't provide enough income to support her and her daughter. Until she could make a name for herself in the art world, only the commercial paintings she sold in the galleries would do that. But deep down she queried if this was her only reason.

      The drive to her flat gave her more opportunity to question her motives, and just as much time

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