Donovans 03 - Pearl Cove

on anyway, and the living went on with it.
    A boil of red dust from the road leading to Pearl Cove announced Ian Chang’s arrival. The cyclone’s twenty-three inches of rain had long since run back to the sea. Western Australia’s relentless summer sun quickly sucked all moisture from the ground, leaving behind the paradox of red dust in a humid desert.
    Chang’s car vanished into the scrubby mangroves that lined the sparkling white sands of one of the tidal creeks. The creeks held fresh water during the monsoon and filled with salt water at every high tide year-round. Given the flatness of the land, the tidal creeks ran miles inland. So did salt water. Even without help from storms, Broome’s tides went through a thirty-five-foot swing at their peak. It was great for feeding the oysters and hell on anything that tried to occupy the shoreline. Rock, mud, and sand were the rule. Only palm trees and the improbably hardy mangroves survived the tides of abuse.
    And man, of course; that clever, adaptable, lethal primate.
    Broome and its outlying areas were home to a racially varied population that was as tough as mangroves. They were survivors who relished their own survival. They were the gently crazed and the fully mad. Drunks and teetotalers, celibates and satyrs, saints and Satan worshipers. Broome was at peace only with extremes.
    Chang fit right in. Extremely intelligent, extremely ambitious, extremely rich. His family was worth more than all but a few Third World nations. He walked up to Hannah with the confidence of a man who is respected by other men and sought by many women. He was wearing the Outback uniform—sunglasses, shorts, and sandals. Since the occasion wasn’t formal, he hadn’t bothered with a tank top.
    “Hannah, darling, even in this sun you’re too pale,” Chang said.
    He took her hands and leaned in to kiss her. She slipped through his grasp with the grace of long practice. It wasn’t anything against Chang. In the past seven years, she had simply lost the habit of being touched. If she decided to get back in the habit again, it wouldn’t be with a married man.
    Because Hannah didn’t want to see Chang—didn’t want to see anyone, actually—she had to concentrate to smile politely. “G’day, Ian. There was no need for you to drive out from Broome in this heat. You could have called.”
    “The phone lines are still down.”
    “Next time use the cellular number. Or the radio. They’re battery powered.”
    “I wanted to check on you,” Chang said. “You lost more than power during that cyclone. You lost a husband and most of Pearl Cove.”
    Fear crawled beneath Hannah’s skin, making her feel cold despite the burning sun. Chang didn’t know the half of it. “I know what I lost.”
    “Are you grieving for the man or the pearl farm?”
    Silently Hannah watched Chang with eyes so deep a blue they were like a twilight sea, dark and luminous at the same time. The contrast between her indigo eyes and her sun-streaked brown hair fascinated him, as did her slender, oddly voluptuous body. He wanted to believe she had worn the string bikini to entice him, but he knew better. Obviously she had been snorkeling. Probably she hadn’t even remembered he was coming out to see her.
    Irritation prickled over him like a rash. “Well?”
    “Is that what you came all the way out here for?” Hannah asked in a neutral voice. “To find out if I cared more for Pearl Cove than for my husband?”
    “Don’t try to tell me that you and Len were close. I know better. Len was a snake. The only thing he was close to was his own skin, and he shed it once a year just to prove he could.” Chang gave Coco a look. “Leave us.”
    Coco glanced at him. Then she turned away, moving slowly enough to let him know that she didn’t jump for anyone, even one of the richest men in Australia.
    “No,” Hannah said.
    Coco stopped.
    “We were just going to the house for some tea,” Hannah said to Chang. “You can join us.”
    “We need to talk privately.”
    “I have no secrets from Coco or anyone else.”
    “This is Chang family business.”
    Hannah’s dark brown eyebrows lifted. She knew Chang well enough to understand that family business was entirely separate from whatever personal lusts he might have.
    “All right,” she said. “Coco, would you call and see if Smithe and Sons can expedite delivery of the building materials? Especially the spat collectors.”
    “They want money.”
    “They’ll