It had happened almost by accident, not by design. They had two dates together before he had to return to Canberra for parliament. He hadn’t so much as held her hand, let alone kissed her. It wasn’t time yet for sharing her shady past with him. He was gone for two months, wrote periodic letters full of humorous observations, and promised to take her out again when he got back. She got on with life, didn’t really think of him. It was nearly Easter when he came back, and he surprised her with his interest. With the way he spoke, as though they were already a couple. He took her to a restaurant on Pitt Street and told her about how much he’d missed her. She was flattered. That was all. Or was it? She was so relaxed in his company. She liked him—truly liked him, for his kind eyes and his boyish humor. At her door that night, he kissed her softly on the lips. Her reaction surprised her. She pressed her body close to his, returning his kiss with passion. It had been so long since anyone had held her like that.
