Vivian's Return by Cooper-Posey Tracy

Author:Cooper-Posey, Tracy
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romantic suspense, flying, action, australia, diving, romance novel, scuba diving, western australia, geraldton
Publisher: Tracy Cooper-Posey

Chapter Eight

Technically, Paul didn’t own the beach. He just owned all the land adjacent to it and all the access roads to the beach were his. His property and his beach, were well south of the town and as deserted as he had promised.

It was late afternoon by the time Vivien drove along the winding road that led to his house. She had followed his careful instructions from her motel, where she had returned to collect her jogging clothes and shoes.

She was avidly curious to see where he lived now. The little house where they had lived was long gone—sold to a giant corporation that had leveled the land and built a thriving shopping mall. Vivien hadn’t visited the mall while she was in town and had no intention of doing so.

So far she had gained the impression from comments by Morris and the other pilots about Paul’s beach-bum address that he lived a hermit’s life in a corrugated iron beach shack, like dozens of other reclusive people up and down the coast.

When she rounded the final bend and the house came into view, her breath caught.

It wasn’t palatial by any means but it was a long way from a beach shack. She halted the Range Rover on a flat paved area and climbed out, studying the rendered and whitewashed walls of the group of buildings she found herself standing amongst, surprised.

Paul appeared at the doorway of the building to her left and crossed the paving to greet her. When he went to pick up her hand in the old manner, she snatched her hand away. “I’m just here to jog.”

He held up his hands, as if surrendering, or showing he was unarmed. “I know,” he said. “Come through. I’ll show you how to get down to the beach from here.”

He turned and led the way back through the doorway. Vivien followed him across a short, wide entry hall with several doors leading off it, into a huge, lofty room whose two walls that faced the sea were uninterrupted walls of glass.

Vivien found herself sighing over the view. The beach, as advertised, was long, flat and deserted and combers rolled in to break almost on the beach itself. The house sat high up on a small hillock, barely two hundred yards away from the water. There wasn’t another house in sight. On the far north horizon Vivien could see the hazy, miniature silhouette of the huge wheat silos on the town wharf and the pin shape of the lighthouse on the tip of Point Moore. To the left, dazzling white sand dunes undulated endlessly southward, out of sight.

Paul stood back, allowing her time to soak up the details. “You like my beach shack?” he asked, with a smile.

“Oh, yes,” Vivien admitted freely. She looked around the room. The floor of the room was cool, muted slate, an all-purpose covering that suited the room, for it appeared to be an all-purpose room. The shorter solid wall to the right was given over to shelving and storage.

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