Kawanga. Jack Halliday
it was over.” She burst into a smile. “And he was a lord or something. Can you believe it, C.J.? Me, with a member of ‘royalty?’”
He coughed, trying to disguise the hot flame of jealousy flashing through his stomach. “Wow, that is crazy,” he laughed. “You and a lord, of all things; crazy.” His smile faded.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Donald Brant, I still hate you!”
Harriet sat there in the middle of the floor, holding the paper in her hand, watching movies in her mind of her ex-husband’s “wilderness wanderings.”
“What’s in Kawanga, for God’s sake?”
She reached into the storehouse of her thoughts, straining her memory for even a small bit of input related to the outback town.
“Kawanga,” she repeated to herself. Her incredulity shook her head. She crumpled the paper and put her hands on her hips, poised, planning her next move. She sprung up and grabbed the phone.
“O’Hara agency,” the voice crackled on the other end of the line.
“Yes. I’d like you to arrange some travel for me please. I need a round trip ticket to Newcastle, then ground transport to and from Kawanga.” She scribbled the information on the empty envelope.
“If I’m still leaving tonight, then I’ve got to pack, and quick,” she ordered herself.
A flurry of activity followed: hands in and out of drawers, feet bounding up and down stairs, zippers zipping and buttons buttoning. The door slammed leaving the chain swinging, unemployed. The smell of a badly tuned Holden and the slipping of tires on gravel sent Harriet on her way.
Soon, she was looking out of the plane window, pensively considering what lay in front of her and remembering her past with Donald Brant. He mind went back to the time he was going through a “kata” by the bed while she busied herself folding clothes. She remembered picking up and sniffing one of his shirts, only to throw it down and then spin around and face him in exasperation at evidence at yet another of his sexual dalliances.
She shouted, “Donald, not again...not again! Why are you doing this to us?”
Weakly he’d responded, “Harri, what? Not ‘what’ again?”
She’d quickly countered with, “This is not my perfume!”
He’d sighed in defeat that time. “I’m sorry; it’s not like I plan these things. I was teaching the ladies’ class and...well....”
She’d cut him off. “Why explain? Another lady police officer needed private lessons, right? How many times does this have to happen?”
He’d turned her around to face him, embraced her and spoke over her shoulder. “Oh, Harri, I am sorry...really I am. Let’s take a few weeks off. We’ll go away...to Auckland, to anywhere. I’ll forget martial arts and....”
“What, I’ll forget about your lack of self-control?”
He shrugged, impishly. “I’m an athlete...I’m just a physically active guy. I was a champion for God’ sake, remember?” He flexed his arms as he squeezed her to him.
“I remember,” she purred as they kissed.
Misty-eyed at the memory, she came out of her reverie, pouted and folded her arms in a feeble attempt at “righteous indignation.” She resumed her gaze out the window.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.