The Billionaire Boss's Innocent Bride by Lindsay Armstrong

an inward sigh of relief, sat up alertly. ‘The port of Bamaga? On Cape York?’
    ‘The same,’ he agreed with a quizzical look. ‘You know it?’
    She nodded. ‘I spent a holiday there with my parents. My father was also—talk about a mad, keen golfer, he was a fanatical fisherman. Oh! I loved it. We drove up in a four-wheel drive we’d hired and we camped at the holiday park, then we went back to Cairns on a cargo ship, the Trinity Bay.’
    ‘I know it well.’
    ‘But…’ She looked puzzled, for there was little at Seisia she could associate Max Goodwin with, unless…‘Oh, I get it. You probably hire one of those extremely expensive fishing boats that go out into the Gulf of Carpentaria from Seisia for weeks at a time. Or do you own your own?’
    ‘I deny that charge. But, yes, I hire one, although I usually only manage a week at the most. How did you fish?’
    Alex smiled. ‘Off the jetty—it’s supposed to be the best fishing jetty in Australia—
    and the beach. And we took a dinghy trip up the Jardine River. It was so beautiful and so remote.’ She closed her eyes. ‘I’ll never forget the colours of twilight.’
    ‘Blue on blue?’
    Her lashes fluttered up. ‘Yes. Violet, wisteria, slate-blue. So beautiful!’
    There was a discreet cough behind them and Alex had no idea that a man had been standing there for about a minute with his eyes fixed on her glowing expression directed at Max Goodwin—Paul O’Hara.
    Then they both turned and he came forward. ‘Hi, Max! Mrs Mills let me in and told me I’d find you out here. Hello, Miss Hill!’
    ‘Paul,’ Max said pleasantly, ‘come and join us. What are you doing down here?’
    Paul pulled out a chair and sat down. ‘I booked into the Hyatt at Sanctuary Cove for the night rather than driving down tomorrow morning for the golf. So I thought I’d toddle over and fill you in on the afternoon’s proceedings. I didn’t expect to—’ He stopped.
    ‘Expect to find Alex here? She’s taken on another job for me,’ Max said unexpansively. ‘How did it go?’
    Alex pushed herself upright. ‘If you’ll excuse me I’ll leave you to it,’ she said.
    ‘You don’t have to go on my account, Miss Hill,’ Paul O’Hara said eagerly, and didn’t see the sudden, narrowed glance his cousin cast him.
    For a moment Alex was subject to a lunatic urge to tell him that she thought he was probably very nice and in any other circumstances she’d like to know him better. All she said, however, was, ‘Thanks, but I’ve got a good book calling to me. Goodnight.’ And she walked away.
    Nicky was fast asleep with a night light on and with Nemo snuggled up beside him. Alex grimaced. Somehow Nicky was going to have to learn to be parted from the dog but how, she didn’t know.
    And she wandered over to a painting that hung on the wall, a small but vibrant canvas of a seashore with two black oyster catchers with their red beaks in the foreground. It was signed in one corner—Cathy Spencer.
    When she’d first noticed it she’d asked Mrs Mills about it.
    ‘Oh, I rescued it from a cupboard,’ Mrs Mills had told her. ‘I remember when she gave it to Mr Goodwin—she told him not to part with it because one day it would be worth a lot of money. He laughed and promised.’ Mrs Mills had broken off with a sigh. ‘They were lovely together then. Perhaps I only saw the good side of them, but I can’t help hoping, well, especially now with Nicky, they could come together again. I think they should. Anyway, I thought Nicky might like to have something of his mum with him.’
    Alex came back to the present and turned from the painting to the sleeping boy. Although he was so like Max, she did sometimes see his mother in him, and it tore at her heartstrings suddenly to think of him being shuttled backwards and forwards between his father and mother.
    They should put aside their differences, she thought, and brushed away a solitary tear. They really should.
    She showered