The Shock Engagement

Emma couldn’t help but grin. Tahlia was such a sweetheart. Such a hard worker. So entrenched in the fabric of WWW Designs. In her capacity as Director of Sales, she was the public face of the company. Emma worried about what would happen if WWW Designs really did come under serious threat. Though she had been one person never to become embroiled in Raquel’s ‘special assignments’, her friend’s fall would be so public.

Harry gave Tahlia a brief nod but said no more. Funny. For a guy who usually lapped up female attention as if it was drinking water, the bestowal of praise for his outstanding success seemed to be something he could not simply charm his way through. It was actually kind of adorable.

‘Later, T,’ Emma said, waving her friend away and stepping into the lift.

‘Have fun, Emma,’ Chrystal called out, leaning so far over the reception desk Emma could make out the colour of her bra. ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!’

Emma took Harry by the hand and dragged him into the lift with her. She did all she could to hide her blush. If she followed Chrystal’s advice she and her Harry would be in for a wild time.

CHAPTER TWO

GIRLS’ NIGHT IN WITH THE PRINCESS BRIDE

‘As she wishes? That princess has no idea how lucky she is,’ Keely said. ‘The most romantic thing my first boyfriend said to me was, “What would you like to watch on telly?”’

ONCE Emma was finally able to extricate herself from the WWW Designs building she walked Harry quickly away from the riverside boardwalk, past the long run of funky restaurants and hip cafés, and around the corner into the maze of car parks and parklands behind the office building.

The letter in her briefcase burned in her mind and she wondered if she should show Harry. But it was a private letter, one even she should not have seen, so she decided to let it simmer in her mind for a while longer before involving anyone else.

‘So where are we going in such a hurry?’ Harry asked. ‘Are you luring me into the bushes for a reason?’

‘You wish,’ she said, but she slowed only once she knew they were out of sight of the many beady eyes watching them through the tenth-storey windows. Spying a park bench, Emma led Harry to it and sat, dumping her briefcase on the ground at her feet.

‘Now let me have a look at you,’ Harry said, taking her by the hands as he gave her a steady once-over. ‘Let’s see how my little princess has aged.’

Emma faced her very best friend, the person who knew her better than any other, and the man who had held her heart in his hand for over a decade. Harry stared right back, his usual unsuspecting smile glinting in his beautiful hazel eyes. She had to look away lest her terrible poker-face disclose how overwhelmed she felt on seeing him again. Instead she focused on the play of light and shadow on the leafy ground as she waited for a mixture of comments about wrinkles, crow’s feet and other signs of old age.

But all he said was, ‘You are looking spectacular, princess.’

There was an intensity to his voice that had Emma’s gaze swinging back to his. But she must have imagined it. He was grinning from ear to ear, his face full of pride, just like the big brother he considered himself to be.

Letting one hand go, he reached out and took a handful of her straight blonde bob. ‘Very sophisticated.’

He gave it a little tug before letting the hair slip between his fingers. Emma suppressed a delicious shiver but she could not stop herself from tucking the now swinging hair safely back behind her ear.

‘And you haven’t changed a bit,’ she said. ‘I swear you were wearing exactly the same clothes when you drove off a year ago.’

Harry looked down and grinned. Grabbing the flaps of his jacket he opened them up, revealing a fitted white T-shirt clinging to the despicably well-formed chest beneath. ‘I think you’re probably right.’

‘How you get by looking like that I’ll never know.’

‘I’ve never had complaints from the ladies before.’ He smiled so wide she caught sight of a sexy pair of sharp canines.

‘I am a lady, so consider this your first. Please let me take you shopping while you’re here,’ Emma begged.

‘Sure,’ he said, thankfully covering himself back up. ‘Now you are such a sophisticate, maybe you finally can teach me a thing or two.’

‘Are you insinuating I never could before?’

He shrugged. ‘Well, you are younger than I, and less worldly-wise. What good is it having an older friend unless they can teach you the ways of the world?’

‘Please,’ she scoffed. ‘What did you ever teach me but how to get into trouble?’

‘Moi?’ he asked, his expression mortified.

‘So you want a list? Okay. I can count cards with the best of them thanks to your tutelage the summer I turned fifteen. You taught me how to hotwire a motorbike when I was nineteen. The first time we met you gave me a red apple you had stolen from the next door neighbour’s tree.’

‘It had fallen into your yard,’ he argued.

‘The tree was ten feet from our fence! Ruling out a freak hurricane, that was a physical impossibility.’

‘Okay then. I am a bad influence. Should I leave now, head hung in shame, never to disgrace your door again?’

Even said in jest the suggestion made Emma’s mind mist over red. She reached out and grabbed his hand, tucking it tight between her own. ‘Don’t even joke about that, Buchanan.’

His smile shifted, lost some of its fashioned charm, and Emma felt the sounds of the park slip away. When he looked at her like that, with such honesty, it gave her ideas. Hope. It made her think that maybe one day he would see her as something other than a little sister type.

He patted her hand. ‘You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.’ Then he winked and the charmer was back.

The sounds of the park rushed back in. Leaves rustled, birds squawked and cars whooshed past on the road nearby.

‘Did you drive over from…wherever you were?’ Emma asked, pulling her hands from his as she shifted her weight to the other bottom cheek.

‘Yep. I brought the bike. I went by your folks’ place on the way here but no one was home.’

‘They’ve gone away.’ She could have fitted a golf ball into Harry’s rounded mouth.

‘Away?’ he repeated. ‘But they’ll be back by Saturday…Surely.’

Saturday. The real reason why Harry came home the same time each year.

Emma shook her head. ‘No, they won’t. They have taken a much needed break in the Great Barrier Reef for a couple of months.’ She watched Harry closely, embroiled in his reaction, which was a great deal fiercer than she would have expected. His brow crinkled, his skin came over blotchy as though he was trying to hold in his acute angst.

‘Whose…whose idea was this?’

‘Mine. Theirs. I don’t remember. We were talking one night about how long it had been since they’d taken a holiday together so I bought them the airfares for their wedding anniversary. They chose this time of year and I didn’t once think of asking them to postpone.’

It made sense, it had symmetry and it showed great strength, Emma thought. In choosing not to be in town on that particular Saturday, her parents had made a point that despite past events they were living their lives. She was so proud of them and she wasn’t going to let Harry convince her otherwise.

Ready to move on conversationally and physically, Emma gathered her bits and pieces. ‘Well, now, dear boy, your forfeited side trip means that you get the surprise early.’

‘Surprise?’ he asked, taking her briefcase from her.

‘A good surprise,’ she said, leading the way back to the street where Harry’s custom-built motorbike awaited them.

She grabbed the spare helmet and secured the cord under her chin. Harry tied down her briefcase then hopped on and unhooked the kickstand with the ease of an expert. Emma swung her leg over the bike to sit behind him. She wrapped her arms about his waist and she was in her favourite place in the whole world.

Harry covered her arm with one of his own as he turned his head. ‘So where to, princess?’

‘St Kilda.’

‘And what’s in St Kilda?’

‘My big surprise. I’ve moved out of home. I have my own apartment and this time around you’re staying with me.’

Harry drove five kilometres under the speed limit the whole way. He needed every extra second possible to pull himself together.

Though Emma had ridden behind him on his various motorbikes over the years, this time it felt different. Through her thin suit fabric and his thinning old jacket he could feel her breasts pressed up against him, and having the words ‘Emma’ and ‘breasts’ in his head at the one time was not a situation he had been counting on.

It seemed that little Emma was not so little any more. The girl he had always thought of as his kid sister looked like she had grown up overnight. Gone was the cuddly girl with the hair down to her waist and wide blue eyes that looked up to him for guidance about everything from job prospects to her love of drawing to boys, and in her place was this urbane woman with something in her eyes he had never seen before. Was it wisdom? Or maturity? Or experience? He wiped that thought from his mind as quickly as he could.

Considering he hadn’t seen her since the same time the year before, he should have seen it coming. She had always been a cute girl, cute enough to whisper at the edge of his awareness repeatedly over the years, but he had long since shouted down those whispers with the memory of why he had no right to be thinking that way about her. So he probably had seen the changes coming and had ignored them outright. But now he could feel Emma’s warm body wrapped about him and, as if that was not distraction enough, he was driving her to an apartment. Where she lived alone. Where according to her, he would be sleeping for the next week.

He was surprised at how that news had startled him. She was, what, twenty-four? Of course she had her own place. It was about time. The sweetheart had kept her parents company, looking after their every concern, sorting out problems before they even knew they existed, playing the good girl for longer than anyone could have asked.

Helping those in need was Em’s defining quality. She was always looking out for everyone else’s interests before her own. He knew, despite her brave face, that having her parents so far away at this time of year had to have been distressing, but so long as they were happy she would never think to disapprove.

She tapped his shoulder as they came up to a red four-storey building a couple of streets away from the beach. He pulled into the driveway and felt a welcome rush of fresh air at his back as she uncurled her soft body from behind him. He grabbed her briefcase and his old leather backpack from the back of his bike and followed her up the steps, his eyes raking over the building and the grounds—anywhere but on her casually swaying hips, which were wrapped in some unbelievable stretch fabric which he was pretty certain was designed less to clothe and more to stun unsuspecting men.

She turned to him at the top of the stairs with the key in the door. ‘Ready?’ she asked.

Her dazzling grin relaxed him no end. It was young and girlish and reminded him that this was Emma. Little Emma. Sweet Emma. Princess Emma. The girl he had berated when he had caught her smoking at age fifteen. The girl who would do anything he asked, and he had something pretty tricky he was about to ask.

He rubbed his hands together. ‘Ready and raring.’

‘Now, it’s only tiny so don’t get too excited. But please feel free to get very excited as, although it’s tiny, I love it.’

He crossed his arms and waited for her gushing to cease.

‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Just come in.’ She opened the door with a flourish and welcomed him into her home like the ringmaster in a circus.

The mushroom-coloured walls were so clean he could tell the place had been recently painted, and the dark wood furniture and white couch had that just-purchased look about them. But the thing that caught his attention the second he walked in were the ceiling-to-floor shelves lining one whole wall, surrounding and swamping the small television. The shelves held enough DVDs to fill a rental store.

He stepped up and ran a finger over the spines. Funny Girl. How to Steal a Million. The Fifth Element. All romance films. There were comedies, tragedies, action adventures, but they were all romantic. His face warmed with a smile. Trust sweet Em to throw herself into a collection like that.

‘So what do you think?’ she asked, her brow furrowed in such adorable concern.

‘Do you really own all of these movies?’

She glared at him, her hands on her hips. ‘No. I rented each and every one and never took them back. Of course I own them all. Now, what…do…you…think?’

‘It’s a very exciting apartment,’ he promised.

She gave a little nod. ‘That’s better.’ She threw her keys on the hall table and he followed her down the hallway.

She disappeared inside one room off to the right, singing sweetly under her breath, something familiar and pretty that reminded him of a chick flick she had forced him to sit through once. Harry followed at a distance.

Finally she poked her head out into the hall. ‘Come on, slowcoach. The grand tour will only take about thirty seconds, even if you look under every cushion and open every cupboard door.’

He did as he was told and came upon her in what was obviously her bedroom. Gone were the teddy bears and pink lace from her room at her parents’ place; instead, her bedroom was all dark wood and coffee-coloured linen. The word that came to mind was inviting. He remained resolutely in the hallway.

Emma peeled off her suit jacket and flung it on to her queen-sized bed. She wore a white tailored business shirt that hugged some seriously attractive curves. He had had no idea she had such a tiny waist, which was only accentuated by the not so tiny area above. Harry’s gaze lifted so fast it hit the ceiling.

‘What are you looking for all the way up there?’ she asked.

‘Spiders’ webs in the corners,’ was the best he could come up with.

‘Come on, Harry. You know I’m a neat freak.’

But when Harry looked back at her she had her hands on her hips and was glancing about the ceiling, just in case. His mouth lifted in a smile. He could work her so easily. Of course that came from knowing her for over a decade.

He had a sudden flash memory of the first time they had met—he had been coming back to Jamie’s place after footy practice one afternoon and had been bowing to one of Jamie’s regular dares; this time he’d been ordered to jump the neighbour’s fence and return with an apple from their treasured tree.

He had acquiesced instantly, returning with three apples instead. He remembered Jamie’s easy grin and absolute appreciation at being beaten. Their strong friendship had been forged in that moment.

Before they had reached the front door it had opened with a slam and a small girl with thick blonde hair to her waist and a mouth full of braces stood on the step, hands on hips, bright blue eyes flashing.

‘You’re late. Mum is going to kill you!’ she had promised, obviously relishing the thought.

Jamie had pushed past, ruffling the girl’s hair. ‘Squirt, this is Harry. Harry, this is my sister, Emma. She’s eleven going on twenty-one,’ Jamie had thrown over his shoulder as he disappeared into the kitchen to bury his head in the fridge.

Emma had turned her attention to Harry. ‘You don’t go to our school,’ she had said in a tone so accusing that Harry had had to bite back a laugh.

‘No, I don’t. I play footy with your brother.’

She had shot a disgusted look over her shoulder at the mention of the boy who was obviously the bane of her existence. ‘Poor you,’ she had said.

Harry remembered feeling this strange need to impress. She’d been a kid, all metal mouth and attitude, not like the lissom senior girls who were the usual witnesses to his daring and athletic feats, but it didn’t stop him throwing the three apples into the air, juggling them, landing two down his footy jersey and one in his mouth. He’d taken a big bite then tossed it to her.

She’d caught the apple in her small hands, looked at it for a moment, looked back at him, took a great big bite herself then disappeared into the house, leaving the door open for him to follow. That was the moment he had first been invited into her house and into her life. Into Jamie’s house. Into Jamie’s life…

Harry breathed in deep through his nose as he fought his way out of the suddenly stifling memory to find Emma watching him with those same bright blue eyes, only now they were framed by beguiling black lashes highlighted by clever use of mascara.

She looked back at him in silence. The stunning prettiness of her baby blues had never been able to disguise her fierce intelligence, but there was more to her stare now. Standing there before him, all grown up, she now knew exactly what those eyes could do to a guy. He had a sudden flash of something that felt a heck of a lot like attraction.

He spun on his heel and took off. ‘So which one’s my room? I’m hoping it’s decked out with leopard skin walls and shag pile carpet on the ceiling.’

He risked a glance over his shoulder and found Emma watching him with a blank expression. Not quite the indulgent grin he’d been hoping for, but at least it was easier to handle than whatever had been zapping between them moments before.

She pointed across the hall to a room with a single bed, pink bedspread, yellow floral curtains and a white chest of drawers with I love Robbie Williams stickers all over it. So her old room at home had in fact come along for the ride.

‘Well, not so much leopard skin as I had hoped.’ He jumped as he felt Emma sidle up behind him. He caught a whiff of head-turning perfume but had little time to take pleasure in it as she gave him a slap on the shoulder so hard it would no doubt leave a red mark.

‘Haven’t quite got to this room in my decorating mania,’ she said. She pointed out the room’s accoutrements. ‘Cupboard. Chest of drawers.’ Then she reached around him to point out a small empty box on the bedside table. ‘Somewhere to keep your mess of notes.’

It took a moment before he realised what she meant. He reached into his top jacket pocket and pulled out a mishmash of ideas for the evolution of his website that he had jotted down on torn off bits of newspaper and truck stop napkins on the long ride down from Alice Springs.

He put the papers in the tray and his jacket felt a good deal lighter. Huh. Well, what do ya know?

‘You will stay, won’t you?’ she asked.

He heard the hint of concern in her voice and he had no choice. He reached to gather his little Emma to him, sighing deeply as she snuggled into him, resting her head against his chest.

‘Of course I’ll stay, princess. For you, anything.’

Emma released a great breath, the warm air tickling at his skin through his cotton T-shirt. ‘I am very glad to hear that.’

But there was more he had to say, and soon, before everything settled and became too chummy. He pulled Emma away and slowly set her down on the edge of the bed. When she looked back at him with such trust he gave in to temptation and ran his hand over the back of her head, revelling in the feel of her soft hair playing against his fingertips.

‘Em,’ he said, pulling his hand away and distancing himself again, ‘keeping in mind my generosity in allowing you to put me up for the week, I have a favour to ask.’

She tilted her head and raised a pale blonde eyebrow. ‘Shoot.’

Harry began to pace. How to ask? How to begin? At the beginning seemed as good a place as any.

‘About six months ago,’ he said, ‘a gentleman sued me, for stealing the idea of Harold’s House from him.’

Emma felt her stomach drop away and her fighting instincts rose. ‘But of course you didn’t take the idea from anyone else!’ she cried. ‘I was there the day Harold’s House was born. Don’t you remember?’

‘I remember, sweetheart. But when you have the appearance of power and money you attract the attention of those who seek both. Anyway, it never went to court. He had no case. Nevertheless his stunt brought about enough publicity that I began to receive attention from one woman who believed I was wronged. She began by sending me letters via the Harold’s House email address.’

Emma reached out and grabbed his hand, stopping him pacing before he left a track in the carpet. She felt him straining against her hold, but she also felt the angry heat welling from inside him. She used her own power to tug him over to sit next to her on the bed.

‘The emails became excessive enough they were brought to my attention,’ he continued, ‘but by that time her attention had already expanded to include handwritten love letters lathered in perfume and gifts of odd souvenirs she had found in small towns as she made her way from Sydney to me. She eventually tracked me down in Alice Springs.’

He glanced over at her and she saw a flash of uncertainty. He was wondering how much to tell her. It must have been pretty bad. ‘Tell me, Harry. Please.’

He rolled his shoulders and went somewhere inside himself to draw on experiences obviously buried down deep. ‘My core creative group had come out to Alice Springs for a week to get a feel for the place, and thus for the new additions I wanted for the site. We were eating at a local pub one night and she found me sitting at a table with one of my copywriters, Rikki. This woman came straight over, grabbed Rikki by the hair, tore her from her seat and began beating her. It was so unexpected, it took us a few shocked moments before the rest of us dived in to fend her off. By that stage she had already split Rikki’s lip and broken a rib.’

‘Oh, my God! Harry!’ Emma felt a sense of cold dread gripping her spine that the woman might still be out there somewhere, thinking of Harry, watching Harry, planning to hurt Harry. Her fists clenched in her lap as she thought what she would do to the woman if she ever got her hands on her. ‘Where is this woman now?’

‘The police arrested her in Alice Springs. It turned out she was a serial stalker. She had pulled a similar stunt with some football jock in New South Wales and was wanted for kidnapping the guy’s girlfriend. Now she is behind bars and those around me are safe from her attention.’

He squeezed her hand and she knew he was making sure she realised she was safe. Emma felt a heady sense of relief. ‘And Rikki?’

‘She’s fine. All better. She’s even still working for me, believe it or not.’

There was one more thing she had to know. ‘Was she…are you and Rikki…together?’

He shook his head and her relief doubled. ‘Never. But it didn’t matter. This woman was so obsessed it didn’t matter.’

‘Harry, how can I not know this sort of stuff? You are supposed to be my best friend and yet you haven’t let me help you through any of the tough stuff.’

‘What good can it do burdening you, Em? I would rather that sweet mind of yours was filled with nice thoughts. Ignorance is bliss.’

‘Please!’ Emma scoffed. ‘I would much rather be in the know, to be able to help you and know you than to be in the dark.’

Harry’s smile was full of sadness. ‘But that’s just it, Em. I don’t bring good luck to those who care for me.’

‘That woman didn’t care for you!’

‘No, she didn’t. But others have.’

Emma knew exactly who he meant. Jamie. But that was ridiculous. He couldn’t possibly still be so defined by that experience, could he?

‘That’s half the reason I couldn’t come to your surprise party, Em. Keely had tracked me down and invited me. But when all this happened, I had to pull out. There was nothing that would have brought me back to you with that sort of danger following close behind.’

She believed him. He hadn’t come to her party in order to protect her. How ironic. It was one of the many times he had broken her heart in the name of trying to look out for her best interests.