Dana giggled. ‘Mummy, Charlie thinks I’m Sleeping Beauty.’
Carrie smiled down at her daughter. ‘Go to sleep, then, Sleeping Beauty.’ She dropped a kiss on Dana’s forehead. They both watched as Dana shut her eyes.
‘How are you doing?’ Charlie asked.
‘I’m fine,’ she assured him, despite the persisting tremble of her hands.
‘I’m sorry, I was probably a bit forceful back there.’
‘You were just trying to help him,’ she said dismissively.
‘You did well.’ Charlie leant his hip against her vehicle.
Carrie laughed. ‘Sure.’
‘It’s not everyone’s cup of tea.’ He shrugged.
Carrie decided it was best he didn’t know about her qualifications. The chances that they’d ever meet in a professional capacity were fairly negligible. He was obviously an emergency medicine specialist and she was firmly ensconced in management.
‘Are you going to be right to travel home?’ he asked. ‘Your car still goes?’
Carrie looked at the dented rear side panel. It did, but she doubted whether she could drive again tonight, she was too shaken up. ‘I’ll get one of the tow-truck drivers to take it away and arrange to have it fixed first thing tomorrow. It’s a bit of a pain but, considering I thought we were going to die tonight, it’s an inconvenience I can live with.’
Charlie chuckled. ‘You heading back to Brisbane? Can I give you a lift home?’
Carrie watched the traffic accident investigation squad put yellow markings on the road. They’d promised her a lift back into the city but they didn’t look like they’d be finished any time soon.
She regarded him steadily, taking notice of his looks for the first time. He was tall, a good head taller than her. He had nice eyes, grey eyes. A nice face, actually. Calm. Serene.
Confident.
Even when he’d been snapping orders he’d been completely self-assured.
There was something innately tranquil about his features.
His hair was a shaggy brown shot with blond, as if naturally streaked by the sun. It hung down, brushing his collar, and seemed to part naturally in the middle, falling in haphazard layers over his ears and stopping just short of impeding his vision.
Combined with his three-day growth, he looked a little surfer dude and as far from Rupert’s cleanly shaven short back and sides as was physically possible. She’d always preferred that look but this guy was making her rethink.
His arms were tanned a deep brown, as if he’d spent a lot of time in the sun. His clothes were casual — threadbare jeans and one of those trendy T-shirts that looked like it had been painted by a pre-schooler. His chest was broad, his biceps firm in her peripheral vision.
‘I can get an Uber.’
‘Out here? You might be waiting a while. Where do you live?’
‘Windsor.’
‘Perfect. I live in the Valley. You’re on my way.’
He pushed away from the car the matter apparently settled and Carrie watched as he cleared their departure with the scene controller. Five minutes later, after she’d spoken with the tow company, Charlie was opening the passenger door to his sedan.
Carrie eyed it disparagingly, her mood considerably lightened compared to earlier. ‘You sure this thing goes?’ She could feel her old self returning.
Feigning insult, he said, ‘I’ll have you know this is a classic car.’
‘It’s ancient.’
Charlie chuckled. It was. It had been second hand when he’d inherited it as his uni run-around. ‘It’s...retro.’ And he was fond of the old banger, preferring it to the ostentatious BMW his parents had bought him for his thirtieth birthday. It had lot of happy memories.
He’d kissed his first girl in this car. Had driven to Uluru in it. Slept in it the night of his bucks’ party when he’d been too drunk to drive home.
The Beamer just didn’t have the same amount of soul.
“Does it even have anchor points?”
‘It’s not that old,’ he said, grabbing Dana’s car seat off the ground near her foot and opening up the back door, installing it like he’d done it a time or two before.
Dana stirred as Carrie transferred her into the seat. ‘Where are we, Mummy?’
‘In Charlie’s car,’ Carrie said quietly as she snapped the buckle in place. ‘He’s taking us home.’
Dana looked around with heavy eyelids. ‘I like it,’ she murmured as her eyes drifted shut.
Carrie met his amused gaze. It was warm and sexy and she blinked, surprised at the thought.
‘Your daughter obviously has an eye for a classic.’
‘She’s four.’
His laughter followed her into the passenger seat and a warm sensation down low and deep spread sensual tentacles to every cell of her body. It was strange and unnerving and she put the brakes on immediately.
So, he had a nice face and a great smile and had talked her down from the ledge tonight. She was a single mother with her eye on a prestigious job. She didn’t have time for Charlie’s.
It was a good minute before Charlie lost sight of the multi-coloured glow of the accident scene in his rear-view mirror. The adrenaline he’d felt at the scene had dissipated, leaving him feeling edgy, and he drummed his fingers against the steering-wheel. At least his passenger had perked up. Her trembling seemed to have settled and there was colour in her cheeks now.
She had auburn hair, he noticed for the first time. It was wavy rather than curly, tumbling to her shoulders and framing her oval face, emphasizing the cream of her complexion, the smattering of freckles across her nose and her big, light-brown eyes the exact shade of whiskey.
Her clothes were unusual. Purple tie-dyed shirt with a heavily beaded modest neckline and matching trousers. It was loose and flowing, hinting at her figure beneath rather than revealing anything. She had large silver hoop earrings and a thin silver choker with dangling lines of purple beads hanging like icicles.
The total effect was quite...hippy.
‘So, what do you do?’ Charlie asked, making small talk as the silence stretched between them.
‘I’m...in management.’
He laughed. She looked like she read palms for a living. ‘That’s suitably vague.’
She shrugged. ‘It’s nothing very exciting. It pays the mortgage and the hours are good.’
He flicked a glance at Dana in the rear-view mirror. She was staring sleepily out the window, her blonde hair and blue eyes nothing like her mother’s. ‘How old did you say Dana was?’
‘She’s four.’
‘Cute age.’
‘Yes, it is.’ She smiled. ‘You got kids?’
Charlie snorted. ‘No.’
She seemed a little taken aback at his response and hesitated before asking, ‘Not your thing?’
If only. Quite the opposite, in fact. Charlie had wanted a family of his own for a long time. A chance to do it better than his parents had - if that was possible. If he wasn’t somehow genetically wired to screw things up, too.
He shrugged. ‘Veronica, my ex-wife, didn’t want them. It was probably just as well, given the divorce and everything.’
‘Was it bad?’
Carrie could have bitten off her tongue as Charlie’s knuckles grew white on the steering-wheel. She had no idea what had come over her. Maybe it was the moments they had shared at the accident scene that made her feel like normal social mores concerning privacy didn’t apply to them. That she could ask him such a personal question on such short acquaintance.