‘O-o-kay.’ She lifted the tea towel. ‘We have crackers and paté, three kinds of cheese, spicy chicken wings and fresh baked bread for starters. Then there’s raspberry custard trifle with grated chocolate. I think we’ll start with the crackers.’ She produced a knife and plastered a cracker with paté for him. ‘You’ve never told me what business you have overseas.’
‘I thought we agreed no personal history—’
‘It’s not history, it’s current.’
True. ‘I source and supply equipment for thrill sports to customers around the world.’ Which gave him the time and flexibility to indulge his own interest in the sport.
She bit into her own cracker. ‘Parachutes, hang-gliders, et cetera?’
‘Yes. The beauty of the Internet is I don’t need stock and I can work anywhere.’
‘So you don’t have to—’ Her mobile rang nearby. She picked it up, glancing at the caller ID. ‘Sorry, I have to take this.’ She pressed connect. ‘Hello, Dad.’ Pause. ‘We’re back too. We’re just having tea. Yes, Damon and I.’
For once she sounded assertive, he noted, daring her father to take issue. ‘How was the party?’ Another pause, then she sat up straighter. ‘Oh, I…’ She shook her head. ‘Okay, I’ll ask…’ She trailed off, holding the phone tight against her chest. ‘Mum and Dad want you to come to dinner on Thursday night.’
His brows rose. ‘Not Tuesday?’
‘They’re still in Coffs Harbour.’
‘Okay.’ He smoothed paté onto another cracker and held it out to her.
‘You don’t have to,’ she murmured, her eyes wide. Anxious. Not taking the cracker.
‘What—are you ashamed of me?’
‘Of course not.’ She turned away so he couldn’t read her expression and lifted the phone to her ear again. ‘Dad? He’ll be there. Put Mum on the line…’
It was only after she’d burbled on to them for a few moments, then disconnected, that he wondered what the hell he was letting himself in for.
Meet The Parents. It sounded like a movie, one he’d rather not watch. The women he’d been involved with over the past few years had never got around to inviting him home to meet the family, for which he’d been grateful. It had saved him the trouble of working up a refusal.
He thought about it again late that night while he held Kate in his arms as she slept. The picnic tea had been relaxed and enlightening. They’d finally opened up some. They’d talked about their careers; Kate had worked in the same place for years. And since she’d obviously been talking to Jenny, he elaborated on the businesses he’d owned. Then they’d talked a little about their childhood. It felt good to talk to someone after years of being a one-man band, but the mention of past lovers was carefully avoided.
But all night the upcoming dinner had been at the back of his mind. What made meeting Kate’s parents different? He suspected the old man wanted to check him out, make sure he was suitable marriage material for his Katerina.
He’d be in for a disappointment. Boot him out the door if he knew what he’d done with his precious daughter within the first few moments of laying eyes on her.
Exactly what he’d do himself if he had a daughter like Katerina. If he had a daughter…like Katerina. A kid of his own. He shook away the sudden image of Kate with a tiny version of herself in her arms. But not quickly enough. It left him breathless and shaken. Where the hell had that come from?
He stared up at the ceiling and asked himself again why it was different with Kate. Simple—he wanted to meet Kate’s parents because they were a part of her. To help him understand her better. To assure them he had her best interests at heart. So he’d know she’d be loved when he left.
But by Jeez… Dinner at seven. Would it be knives at eight? What was the protocol for these things nowadays?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
ON SUNDAY they took a leisurely drive around the surrounding Hawkesbury area in the morning and slept the afternoon away together. Damon insisted Kate take Monday off and left for work before she could think about getting ready, but in the evening he drove her back to her apartment. He’d been tempted to ask her to stay, but he knew her professional stand on the boss/employee bit. In her eyes turning up to work with him was out.
Something had changed since that first night back home when he’d slept beside her. Almost like an acceptance, an acknowledgement that what they had was more than what either of them had expected, or indeed wanted. She’d not mentioned their status in the workplace again, which left him wondering—where was their relationship headed?