No Rescue Read Free Page B

do was hold her tighter.
    â€˜Huh.’ She grabbed a tissue from her bag and blew her nose.
    â€˜Would you like to go home?’
    â€˜It’s borrowed.’
    â€˜Pardon?’ That didn’t make sense. Who borrowed a tissue?
    â€˜I’m staying at a friend’s flat while he’s away. It’s not home. Selwyn knew I was having problems. I love my family but they’re over-whelming. They’re all around western Sydney. All checking on me.’
    â€˜But the Bridge keeps them at bay?’
    She smiled faintly. ‘You think you’re kidding, but it’s true. They don’t like the inner city.’
    More likely they were respecting her demand for space, something he was starting to think she’d better never ask of him. He wouldn’t want to see her suffering and not be able to hold her. It would eat him alive, but he forced himself to ask. ‘Would you like to return to your borrowed refuge?’
    She looked around at the cheerful, friendly zoo. Her gaze stayed a long moment on the schoolgirls, all seated, sketching by the tiger’s cage. ‘I’d like to stay. If you don’t mind?’ Her eyes were shimmery with unshed tears.
    He squeezed her shoulders. ‘Your decision.’ He respected her courage. She stood and he rose with her, taking her hand.
    She held it as if it were a lifeline.
    The meerkats proved a great distraction. They were alert and funny, and Miri relaxed. Her photographer’s eye caught everything, and she commented on the animals’ antics and the human audience’s reaction.
    He felt his own battle-ready tension ease as she relaxed.
    â€˜Thank you,’ she said when they sat down for lunch at a café overlooking the harbour.
    There didn’t need to be gratitude between them. All he’d done was allow her space to fight her demons. ‘We can feed the giraffes after lunch.’
    â€˜I’d like that.’ She smiled.
    That small smile, genuine and appreciative, touched him like a caress. It was an expression of trust and, whether she knew it or not, a promise for the future. The sweetness of it rocked his world, and he felt as clumsy as an armadillo as he got up from the table and tried to move and act naturally.
    It helped that she moved naturally into his personal space, and looped her arm around his waist.
    The giraffes were friendly and calm, their keeper talking easily about them. Tad took a photo of Miri with his phone as she fed them, showing it to her and enjoying how she leant into him to look at it.
    â€˜Brilliant. Look at his eyelashes. Giraffes are beautiful.’
    For beauty, he preferred to look at her with her jacket off and her green shirt open at the collar, lipstick worn off so that her mouth was naked as it curved in a smile.
    She glanced up at him, saw something in his expression and her own gaze dropped to his mouth. Her breath came faster.
    â€˜Peng-wins!’
    She jumped, and laughed.
    The same terrible toddler of the morning hadn’t lost his fascination with penguins. His mother appeared defeated. Without a word she turned the pram away from the giraffes and headed back to the birds’ enclosure.
    â€˜The boy will be a marine biologist,’ Miri said.
    â€˜That or a drill sergeant.’ The kid was loud and he’d spoiled the moment. But there’d be other moments.
    They caught the ferry back to Balmain just ahead of the rush of schoolkids and commuters. It meant that there were still hours of the afternoon and the whole evening ahead of them.
    Tad stood beside Miri at the ferry railing, his back to the view and his attention on her. ‘Phone number?’ He entered hers into his phone and watched her save his. He could ask her out for dinner. He wanted to. ‘You look tired.’ He pushed hair blown by the wind away from her eyes. It was an excuse to touch her.
    â€˜I am. But it’s a happy tired. Thank you.’
    He’d ask her out to