The Morning After The Wedding Before

‘You weren’t answering your phone.’ His gaze swung back to hers again. ‘Not handy when people are trying to contact you.’

Her smile dropped to her feet. Was that censure in his voice? ‘This from the guy who was too busy at his other business to answer his own mobile yesterday?’ she shot back. ‘You do realise I had to pry the info as to your whereabouts from your PA?’

He nodded, his eyes not flinching from hers. ‘So she told me. I apologise for the inconvenience, and for any embarrassment I caused you.’

Emma drew in a deep breath. ‘Okay.’ She forced her mature self to put yesterday’s incident to the back of her mind for now. ‘As for me, I have no legitimate excuse for forgetting the time, so it’s my turn to apologise that you had to be the one to come and get me.’ She tried a smile.

He nodded, his dark eyes warmed, and his whole demeanour mellowed like a languid Sunday afternoon. ‘Apology accepted.’ He leaned down and brushed her cheek with firm lips, and she caught a whiff of subtle yet sexy aftershave before he straightened up again.

Whoa. Yesterday’s tingle was back with a vengeance, running through her entire system at double the voltage. ‘So … um … I’ll just go …’ Feeling off-centre, she backed away, ostensibly towards the tiny area sectioned off by a curtain which she used as a bedroom, but he didn’t take the hint and leave. ‘Look, you go on ahead. I’ll be ready in a jiff and it’s only a ten-minute drive to the restaurant.’

He shrugged, stuck his hands in his trouser pockets. ‘I’m here now.’

Slipping off her flats, she glanced about for her heels. But her eyes seemed drawn to him as if they were on strings. He dressed like a million bucks these days. Still, those threadbare jeans he’d worn way back when had fuelled more teenage fantasies than she cared to remember. She watched him wander towards her table of supplies. With his hands in his pockets, drawing his trousers tight across that firm, cute butt …

No. Sleazy club-owner. Dragging her eyes away, she scoured the floor for her shoes. ‘There’s really no need to wait …’

‘I’m waiting. End of story.’ She heard the crinkle of cellophane as he examined her orders. ‘Your hobby’s still making you some pocket money, then?’

Irritation stiffened her shoulders. She glared at him. ‘It’s not just a hobby, and it’s never been about the money.’ Unlike others who shall remain Nameless. Exhaling sharply through her nose, she swiped up a black stiletto and slipped it on. ‘I have to wonder why it is that helping people with skin allergies seems to you to be a waste of time.’

‘I never sa—’

‘Why don’t you go while I …?’ Calm down. ‘Find my other shoe.’

‘So uptight.’ He tsked. ‘You really need to get out more, Em. Always was too much work and not enough play with you.’ He scooped her shoe from beneath a chair and tossed it to her. ‘Maybe the wedding’ll help things along.’

She caught it one-handed, dropped it in front of her with a clatter and stepped into it, then bent to do up the straps. She’d had it with people telling her how to live her life. Get out more? She let out a huff. She had familial obligations. Had she told him what she thought of the way he was living his life nowadays? No.

She finished fastening her shoes and straightened, pushed at the hair that had fallen over her eyes. Forget his uninformed opinion. Forget him, period. She had her un-fabulous job at the insurance call centre—but it paid the bills—and she had just finished her Diploma in Natural Health. And if she chose to fill her leisure hours working on ways to help people use natural products rather than the dangerous chemicals contained in other products these days, it was nobody’s business but hers.

‘So how’s … what was her name …? Sherry?’ she asked with enough sweetness to decay several teeth as she slipped open the top button of her lab coat. ‘Will she be missing you this evening?’

His brows rose. ‘Who?’

‘The one …’ draped all over you ‘… at Stella’s engagement party. Stella mentioned her name,’ she hurried on, in case he thought she’d actually asked. Which she had. But he didn’t need to know that.

‘Ah … You mean Brandy.’

She shrugged. ‘Brandy. Sherry. She looked like more of a Candy to me.’ With her suck-my-face-off lips and over-generous cleavage. And everything else Emma was lacking. ‘You didn’t say hello and introduce us. Was that because she was one of your exotic dancers?’

‘You and your date left as we arrived. Was that just a curious coincidence?’

Jake watched her cheeks flush guiltily and felt an instant stab of arousal. Hell. He kept his expression neutral, but something was happening here. And the hot little fantasy he’d had last night about what she’d been wearing beneath that red coat yesterday wasn’t helping.

And now she was undoing the second button of that lab coat, revealing a pair of sexy collarbones and putting inappropriate ideas into his head.

He ground his teeth together as images of black lace and feminine flesh flashed through his mind. ‘Are you going to get ready or what?’ The demand came out lower and rougher than he’d have liked. Then he held his breath as she shrugged out of the coat, tossed it over the couch.

‘I’m ready already.’ She flashed him a cool look. ‘I use the coat to protect my clothes when I’m working.’

His gaze snagged on her outfit—a short black dress shot through with bronze, hugging her slender curves to perfection. He swallowed. The legs. How come he’d never noticed how long her legs were? How toned and tanned? He did not imagine how they’d feel locked around his waist.

Cool it. He deliberately relaxed tense muscles. He’d wait outside, get some air.

But before he could move she picked up an embroidered purse from the couch and walked to the front door. ‘Shall we go?’

He walked ahead, opened the door. ‘We’ll take my car.’

‘I’m taking my own car, thanks.’ She locked the door behind them, then headed towards the hatchback, her heels tapping a fast rhythm on the concrete.

He pressed his remote and the locks clicked open. ‘Hard to get a parking space anywhere this time of night,’ he advised. ‘And we—make that you—are running late already. Stella and Ryan are waiting.’

Swinging her door open, she glanced back at him. ‘Better get a move on, then.’

He started to go after her, then changed his mind. She was in a dangerous mood, and he was just riled enough to take her on. And it might end … He didn’t want to think about how it might end. Because he had a feeling that anything with Emma would need to be very slow and very, very thorough. If you could find your way through those thorns, that was. ‘I’ll see you there.’

She clicked her seat belt on, turned the ignition and revved the engine. ‘Ten minutes.’

Emma’s stomach jittered. Her pulse raced. Trouble. She’d seen more than enough of it in Jake’s hot brown eyes. As if she was performing some sort of striptease. She’d not given it a thought when she’d peeled off her lab coat. But he had. Sheesh. She scoffed to herself. As if he’d give her less than average body a second look when he was surrounded by all those Brandies and Candies and brazen beauties at the Pink Mango.

Flicking a glance at her rearview mirror she caught the glare of his headlights. She deliberately slowed her speed, hoping he’d overtake, but he seemed content—or irritated enough—to cruise along behind her. She could feel his eyes boring into the back of her head.

She let out a shaky sigh and drew a deep, slow breath to steady herself. Easier to blame him than to admit to that old attraction—because no way was Jake the Rake the kind of man she wanted to get involved with on an intimate level.

She accelerated recklessly through a yellow light, Jake hot on her heels. She wasn’t herself tonight. Wrong. She hadn’t been herself since she’d come face to face with Jake in his dingy office yesterday.

Even as a teenager he’d always made her feel … different. Self-conscious. Tingly. Uncomfortably aware of her feminine bits.

Her fingers clenched tighter on the steering wheel. She needed to get herself under control. She didn’t figure in his life at all, nor he in hers. And tonight wasn’t about her or him or even them; it was about Stella and Ryan.

She tensed as the well-lit upscale restaurant came into view, and glanced in the mirror again just in time to see Jake’s car glide into a parking space she’d been too distracted to notice right outside the restaurant.

Oh, for heaven’s sake, this was ridiculous. The restaurant was on a corner and she stopped at a red light, tapping impatient fingers on the dashboard. Seriously, if it wasn’t Stella’s night she’d turn around and go home, pull the covers over her head and not surface till Christmas—

The thump on the car’s roof nearly had her foot slipping off the brake as Jake climbed in beside her. ‘Don’t you know better than to leave your passenger door unlocked when you’re driving alone at night?’

She hated his smug look and lazy tone and looked away quickly. ‘Don’t you know better than to scare a person half to death when they’re behind the wheel?’

‘Light’s green.’

She clenched her teeth, pretending that she hadn’t noticed his woodsy aftershave wafting towards her, and crossed the intersection. ‘What are you doing here? There’s no sense in both of us being late.’ She saw a car pulling out ahead, remembered at the last second to check her rear vision and slammed on the brakes.

‘We’ll walk in together, Scarlett.’

‘Don’t remind me,’ she muttered. She slid the car into the parking spot, yanked the key from the ignition, jumped out and locked her door before he’d even undone his seat belt.

Jake took his time getting out, watching her walk around the car’s bonnet to the footpath. Not looking at him. No trace of the blue-eyed poppy tonight, he thought, locking his own door. She was as prickly as a blackberry bush.

The pedestrian light turned green. She left the kerb and he fell into step beside her. ‘If we’re going to pull this wedding business off, we need to be seen to be getting along.’

She jerked to a stop outside the restaurant. ‘Fine.’

Catching her by her slender shoulders, he turned her to face him, noticed her stiffen at the skin-on-skin contact. ‘We’ll need to have a conversation about that at some point.’

‘There’s nothing to talk about.’

Light from the window spilled over her face. Wide eyes stared up at him, violet in the yellow glow. He slid his hands down her bare arms, felt her shiver beneath his palms and raised a brow. ‘Nothing?’

‘Nothing.’ She rubbed her palms together, her gaze flicking away. ‘It’s chilly. I should’ve brought a jacket. I left it on the bed …’

No, he thought, she’d been distracted. Grinning, he let her go. ‘Lighten up, Em, and give yourself permission to enjoy an evening out for once.’

CHAPTER THREE

WITH a light hand at her back, Jake ushered Emma into the upstairs restaurant. Exotic Eastern tapestries lined the burgundy walls. On the far side, through double glass doors was a narrow balcony crowded with palms. Dreamy Eastern music played softly in the background. The tempting aromas of Indian cuisine greeted them as they made their way towards the round family table already covered in a variety of spicy smelling dishes.

‘Apologies, everyone.’ Jake nodded to the happy couple. ‘Glad to see you’ve already started.’

Emma murmured her own apologies to Stella while Ryan spooned rice into two empty bowls and passed them across the table. ‘We wondered whether you two had decided to play hooky.’

‘We thought about it—didn’t we, Em?’ Jake grinned, enjoying her appalled expression, then turned to Ryan’s father.

Gil Clifton, a stocky man with wiry red hair and always a genuine smile, rose and shook hands. ‘Good to see you again, Jake.’

‘And you. We must get around to that tennis match.’

‘Any time. Just give us a call and drop by.’

‘I’ll do that.’

Gil’s smile faded. ‘I was sorry to hear about your father. If there’s anything I can do …’

The mention of the old man left nothing but a bitter taste in Jake’s mouth and an emptiness in his soul that he’d come to terms with years ago. As far as he was concerned Gil and Julie Clifton were the only adult support he’d ever needed. ‘Got it covered, thanks, Gil.’

He kissed Julie’s cheek. ‘How’s the mother of the groom holding up?’

‘Getting excited. And, to echo Gil’s words, if you want to drop by and chat … you’re always welcome.’

If Jake was ever to be lost for words now was that time. Ryan’s family were the only people who knew about his dysfunctional childhood, and now the whole table knew about Earl. He forced a smile. ‘Thanks.’

Emma watched Julie give Jake’s arm a sympathetic squeeze. It occurred to her how little she really knew of his background beyond the fact he was Ryan’s mate.

‘So how’s business?’ Gil asked as Jake moved to the two empty chairs.

‘Busy as usual. Evening, Bernice.’

‘Jake.’ Emma’s mother acknowledged him coolly, then turned the same stony gaze on Emma. ‘Thank you for collecting my unpunctual daughter.’

Emma reminded herself she was Teflon coated where her mother’s barbs were concerned. The others resumed their conversations while she took the empty seat that Jake pulled out beside her mother and whispered, ‘Sorry, Mum.’

‘Have to admire our Emma’s work ethic, though,’ Jake remarked as he sat down beside her. ‘It’s not easy juggling two jobs.’

‘Two jobs?’ Bernice bit off the words. ‘When one’s a waste of time, I—’

‘Mum.’ Emma counted to ten while she reached for her table napkin and smoothed it over her lap. ‘How are you enjoying the food?’

Bernice stabbed at a cherry tomato on her plate. ‘You need two proper jobs to be able to afford a dress like that.’

Jake smiled at Bernice on Emma’s other side. ‘And it’s worth every cent. She looks sensational, don’t you think? Wine, Em?’

‘No, thank you. Driving.’ She acknowledged Jake’s support with a quick nod and reached for the glass of water in front of her. She took several swallows to compose herself before she said, ‘I bought it at Second Hand Rose, Mum. That little recycle boutique on the esplanade.’

When her mother didn’t reply, Emma turned to Jake. ‘I didn’t know about your father,’ she murmured as other conversation flowed around the table. ‘I’m sorry.’

He didn’t look at her. ‘Don’t be.’ He tossed back his drink, set his glass on the table with a firm thunk and turned his attention to something Ryan was saying on his other side.

Ouch. Emma reached for the nearest dish, a mixed vegetable curry, and ladled some onto her plate. He didn’t want to talk about his father—fine. But there was a mountain of pain and anger there, and … She paused, spoon in midair. And what, Emma?

He clearly wasn’t going to talk about it. He didn’t want to talk about it—not with her at any rate—and she had no business pursuing it. It wasn’t as if they were close or anything.

A moment later Jake turned to her again. ‘I was abrupt. I shouldn’t have been.’

An apology. Of sorts. ‘It must be a tough time, no matter how you and he …’ The right words eluded her so she reached for the nearest platter instead. ‘Samosa?’

‘Thanks.’ He took one, put it on the side of his plate. ‘I’ve been thinking about you, Emma.’ He leaned ever so slightly her way, with a hint of seduction in the return of that suave tone.

She could feel the heat bleed into her cheeks. ‘I don’t—’

‘Have you considered selling your supplies over the internet?’ He broke off a piece of naan bread. ‘Could be a profitable business for you. You never know—you might be able to give up your day job eventually.’

‘I don’t want to give up my day job.’ I’m not a risk-taker. Mum depends on me financially. I can’t afford to fail.

‘I could help you with your business plan,’ he continued, as if she’d never spoken. He lowered that sexy voice. ‘You only have to ask.’

His silky words wrapped around her like a gloved hand and an exquisite shiver scuttled down her spine. She could imagine asking him … lots of things. She wondered if his sudden interest and diversionary tactics had anything to do with taking the focus off his own family problems. ‘I don’t have time to waste on the computer, and I told you already it’s not about the money.’ Business plan? What business plan?

‘Lacking computer confidence isn’t something to be embarrassed about.’

‘I’m n—’ With a roll of her eyes she decided her protest was wasted—men like Jake were always right—and topped up her curry with a broccoli floret. ‘I’m flat out supplying the local stores. I don’t need to be online.’

‘It would make it easier. And if your products are so popular why wouldn’t you want to see where they take you?’

She would—oh, she so would. Her little cottage business was her passion, but technology was so not her; she wouldn’t know where to start with a website, and her meagre income—which went straight into the household budget—didn’t allow her to gamble on such a luxury. ‘As I said, there’s no time.’

‘Maybe you need to change your priorities. Or maybe you’re afraid to take that chance?’ He eyed her astutely as he broke off more bread. ‘The offer’s always open if you change your mind.’

Was she so easy to read? An hour or so with Jake and he saw it already. Her fear of failure. Of taking that step into the unknown. He was the last person she’d be going to for help; she felt vulnerable enough around him as it was. ‘Thank you, I’ll keep it in mind.’

Over the next hour the meal was punctuated with great food, toasts to the bride and groom, speeches and recollections of fond memories.

Jake watched on, feeling oddly detached from the whole family and the getting-married scenario. What motivated sane, rational people to chain themselves to another human being for the term of their natural lives? In the end someone always ended up abandoning the other, along with any kids unlucky enough to be caught up in it.

Then Emma excused herself to go to the ladies’ room and Julie claimed Bernice’s attention with wedding talk. He breathed a sigh of relief that for now he wasn’t included in the conversation.

A moment later he saw Emma on her way back and watched, admiring her svelte figure and the way her hips undulated as she walked. Nice. Last night’s fantasy flashed back and a punch of lust ricocheted through his body. She’d been fire and ice yesterday at the club, and he couldn’t help wondering how it might translate to the bedroom.

He saw her come to an abrupt halt as a newly arrived couple cut across her path. His eyes narrowed. Wasn’t that …? Yep. Wayne whoever-he-was. Jake watched on with interest as Wayne’s dinner partner hugged his arm a moment then walked to the ladies’, leaving Emma and Surfer Boy facing each other.

More like facing off, Jake thought, studying their body language. Even from a distance he could see that Emma’s eyes had widened, that her face had gone pale and that Surfer Boy was trying to talk himself out of a sticky situation fast. Emma spoke through tight lips and shook her head. Then, turning abruptly, she headed straight for the balcony.

Uh-oh, he thought, trouble in paradise?

Emma’s whole body burned with embarrassment as she hurried for the nearest sanctuary. She pushed blindly through the glass doors and took in a deep gulp of the cooler air.

He’d had the nerve to introduce the girl. His fiancée. Rani—a dusky beauty, heavy on the gold jewellery—had flashed a brand-new sparkle on the third finger of her left hand and said they’d been seeing each other for over a year.

While Emma and Wayne had been seeing each other. Sleeping with each other.

The bastard.

He’d broken it off with Emma only a month ago. Said it wasn’t working for him. No mention then of a fiancée. Obviously this Rani girl had what it took to keep a man interested.

The worst part was that Emma had let her guard down with him. She’d done what she’d sworn she’d never do—she’d fallen for him big time.

Shielded by palm fronds, she leaned over the railing and stared at the traffic below. But she wasn’t seeing it—she was too busy trying to patch up the barely healed scars and a bunch of black emotions, like her own stupid gullibility. She’d been used. Deceived. Lied to—

‘Emma.’

She jumped at the sound of Jake’s voice behind her. Embarrassment fired up again. He must have seen the exchange. No point pretending it hadn’t happened. ‘Hi.’ She ran a palm frond through her stiff fingers. ‘I was just talking to an ex.’

‘A recent ex, by the look of things.’ Warm hands cupped her shoulders and turned her towards him. He lifted her chin with a finger, and his eyes told her he knew a lot more than she wanted him to. ‘Should I be sorry?’

She shook her head. ‘I’m not very good company right now.’ Shrugging off the intimacy of his touch, she looked down at the street again, at the neon signs that lit the restaurants and cafés.

‘You didn’t answer the question, Em,’ he said softly. ‘But, if you ask me, I’d say he’s not worth being sorry over.’

‘Damn right, he’s not. That was his fiancée. According to her, they’ve been together over a year.’

‘Hmm. I see.’

‘Unfortunately for me, I didn’t.’ She stared at the street. ‘We were both busy with work and after-hours commitments, but we always spent Friday nights together.’ Frowning, she murmured, ‘I wonder how he explained that to her?’

‘Friday nights?’ There was a beat of silence, then he asked, ‘You had, like, a regular slot for him, then?’

She watched a couple strolling arm in arm below them and felt an acute pang of loss. ‘We had an understanding.’

‘He understood that you scheduled him into your working life like some sort of beauty session?’

Her skin prickled. Wayne had actually been the one doing the scheduling, and Emma had been so head over heels, so desperate to be with him, she’d gone along with whatever he’d asked. ‘He had a busy schedule too.’ Obviously. ‘But Friday night was ours. And he was cheating all along.’

Why the hell was she telling Jake this? Of all people. She turned to him, dragged up a half-smile from somewhere. ‘I’m fine. I was over it weeks ago.’

‘That’s the way.’ He smiled, all easy sympathy, and gave her hand a quick pat. ‘The trick is not to take these things too seriously.’

These things? Being in love was just one of these things? ‘And you’d be the expert at that particular trick, wouldn’t you?’ She and Wayne had had an understanding. He’d betrayed her and that was serious.

To her surprise, he spoke sharply. ‘Contrary to what you may think, I don’t cheat.’

‘Because you’re not with a woman long enough.’ As if she would know his modus operandi these days … she wasn’t exactly a social butterfly. She looked up and met Jake’s eyes—dark, intense, like Turkish coffee. ‘Sorry.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s just that you’re here, you’re male, and right now I want to punch something. Or someone.’ Her gaze flicked down to the street. ‘Nothing personal.’

He shoved his hands in his pockets. ‘Emma, yesterday—’

‘You live your way, I live mine.’ She waved him off. ‘We’re not teenagers any more.’

But was she living her life her way? she wondered as she paced past the balcony’s foliage and back. Or was she living for other people?

After her father had died, leaving them virtually penniless, Emma had spent years working menial jobs after school so that they wouldn’t have to sell her maternal grandmother’s home, and then had supported herself through her studies. Her mother had been diagnosed with clinical depression soon after their father’s death, and Stella had taken on the role of main carer, but Emma had been the one with the ultimate financial responsibility.