Читать книгу Australian Escape - Amy Andrews - Страница 14

SIX

Jonah sat at the small backstreet pub the tourists always seemed to miss—probably because it wasn’t suffocated by a surfeit of palm trees and Beach Boys music. Self-flagellation being a skill he’d honed during the long months spent in Sydney, he’d invited Luke to join him.

“Thanks for filling in at lunch with Avery today, mate,” Luke said.

And there went Jonah’s hopes for a quiet beer.

Frosty bottle an inch from his mouth, Luke added, “I bumped into her in the lobby after I finally extricated myself from one of Claudia’s presentations. All cardboard signs and permanent markers. She has a dislike for PowerPoint I’ll never understand.” His eyes shifted Jonah’s way. “So how was lunch?”

“They do a good steak,” Jonah rumbled, then chugged a third of his beer in one hit.

“So I heard.”

He and Luke might only see one another once every couple of years these days, but they’d been mates long enough for Jonah to know he’d been made. Dammit.

He held his ground, counting the bottles of spirits lining the shelves behind the bar. Luke shifted on his chair to face Jonah. Until, thumb swishing over the face of his phone, Luke said, “In fact we have dinner plans for tomorrow night. Avery and I.”

Jonah gripped his beer, even as he felt his cheek twitch in a masochistic grin. He tipped his beer in Luke’s direction as he caught his old friend’s gaze. “You’re going, right?”

Luke pushed his phone aside, a huge smile creasing his face. “Any reason I shouldn’t?”

“You stood her up once before.”

Luke’s smile fell. “Hardly. She’d told me she was having lunch at the Punch if I was around.”

“Luke. Man. Come on. She thought it was a date.”

“I don’t think so, mate. You’ve got your wires crossed somewhere.”

When had his old mate morphed from his wingman into this blinkered, workaholic monkey with a phone permanently attached to his palm? In fairness, it was probably about the time his ex-wife took his heart out with a fork.

Luke watched him a few long seconds before slowly leaning back in the leather chair. “Should be a fun night, though. Those legs. That smile. And that accent? It just kills me.”

Jonah tried to sit still, remain calm, and yet he could feel the steam pouring from his ears. Luke clearly noticed, as suddenly he laughed as if he’d never seen anything so funny.

With a tip of his beer bottle towards Jonah, Luke said, “So, you and Miss Manhattan, eh?”

“There is no me and Miss Manhattan.”

Luke grinned like a shark as he parroted back, “Jonah. Man. Come on.”

Jonah settled his hands around his beer and stared hard into the bubbles. “I’m right there with you on the legs. And the smile. And the accent.” And the eyes. He’d had dreams about those eyes, locked onto his, turning dark with pleasure as she fell apart in his arms. “But she’s my worst nightmare.”

The raised eyebrow of his old friend told him he didn’t believe it for a second. “From what Claude tells me, she’s from money. So high maintenance, maybe.”

“It’s not that. She’s...” Stunning, sexy, yet despite the big-city sophistication still somehow compellingly naive. She could swipe his legs out from under him if he wasn’t careful. “A pain in the ass.”

Luke thought on it a moment. “Then again, aren’t they all?”

Jonah tapped the neck of Luke’s beer bottle with his own.

“I’ve been around the block a few times now,” Jonah went on. “I’ve made mistakes. I’d like to think I’ve learned when to trust my gut about such things.”

“Since You Know Who?”

Jonah raised an eyebrow in assent. “And yet, I can’t seem to...not.”

“Then lucky for you the man she clearly wants is me.”

At that, whatever morbid little tunnel Jonah had been staring down blinked out of existence. He leant back in his chair, and smiled at his friend. “Not as much as she thinks she does.”

“Now what makes you think my charms aren’t all-encompassing?”

“I have it on good knowledge that she’s...in flux.”

Luke’s laughter rang through the bar. He sat forward. All ears. And, thankfully, not a lick of rivalry in his gaze. “I’ve been out of circulation too long. Since when does ‘steak’ stand for something else?”

“Calm down. Steak meant steak,” Jonah rumbled.

“But something happened.”

When Jonah didn’t answer, Luke slammed the table so hard their beers bounced. “Jonah North, pillar of the Crescent Cove community, made out with my dinner date who is also apparently his worst nightmare. Was this before or after she asked me to dinner?”

Jonah’s cheek twitched and his head suddenly hurt so much he couldn’t see straight. “Hell.”

Luke’s laughter was so loud it echoed through the small bar till the walls shook. “Man, you have no idea how much I’m enjoying this. The number of times girls came up to me only to ask if the dude with the palm-tree surfboard was single... And then along comes a sophisticated out-of-towner, not instantly bowled over by your—to my mind—deeply hidden charms, and—”

Luke’s words came to an abrupt halt as the parallel with the last great—not so great—relationship of Jonah’s life came to light. Luke slapped Jonah hard on the back. “Walk away. Walk away now and do not look back.”

“Sounds fine in theory.”

“Yet far better in practice. Trust me,” Luke said with the bitter edge of first-hand knowledge.

Jonah nodded. The other outsider had shaken up his whole life until it had never been remotely the same again.

But he’d been a different man back then. Barely a man at all. Alone for so long, with nothing tethering him to his life, that he’d mistaken lust for intimacy. Company for partnership. The presence of another body in his house for it finally feeling like a home again.

His foundations were stronger now. He was embedded in his life. There was no way he’d make the same mistake twice. If something happened between Avery and him, he’d be just fine. Which meant the decision was now up to her.

“You haven’t heard a word I said, have you?” Luke grumbled.

“About what?”

“Battening down the hatches. And several other good boating analogies.”

“What the hell do you know about boats? Or women, for that matter.”

Luke stared into the middle distance a moment before grinding out an, “Amen.”

* * *

Avery stood outside the elegant Botch-A-Me restaurant Luke had picked for their date, and took a moment to check her reflection in the window. Her hair was twisted into a sleek sophisticated up-do. Her platinum-toned bustier was elegant and sexy, her wide-legged black pants floaty and sensual. Her favourite teardrop diamond earrings glinted in the light of the tiki torches lighting the restaurant with a warm golden glow.

The man didn’t stand a chance.

Pity then that as her focus shifted as she looked through the window, she imagined for a second she’d seen a head of darkly curled hair.

Seriously? After the way Jonah had acted as if that kiss was some kind of consolation prize. Forget him. It was why she was here tonight after all. Only her damn heart wouldn’t give up on him. Pathetic little thing couldn’t think past the kiss at all.

Suddenly the dark curls moved and Luke’s face came into view, and Avery’s stomach sank. She wasn’t imagining things. Jonah was there. With Luke. And they were clearly a couple of drinks down. Avery’s stomach trembled even as it fell to her knees.

“Hey, kiddo! Sorry I’m late.”

Avery turned to find Claudia beside her, peering through the window, her wispy blonde hair caught back in a pretty silver clip, and—for once out of uniform—looking effortlessly lovely in an aqua maxi-dress that made her blue eyes pop.

“Late for what?”

“Ah, dinner? I begged Luke to use the Grand Cayman back at the Tropicana—the new chef I just hired is fantasmagorical. But he insisted we need to check out the competition. Everything okay? You look a little unwell.”

“No. Everything’s fine,” Avery said, while the truth was she now shared Claude’s urge to slap Luke across the back of the head. As for Jonah? Knees and soft body parts came to mind. All four of them at the same table was going to be a disaster.

Her usual MO would be to bounce about, create some cheery diversion to keep every faction distracted before it escalated into something she couldn’t control. It was what she’d do back home.

Or she could face the music.

Taking a deep breath, Avery slipped a hand into the crook of Claudia’s elbow and dragged her inside. Avery motioned to the host so that she could see her dining party and made a beeline for the table near the edge of the room, her heart beating so hard she could hear the swoosh of it behind her ears.

Luke saw her coming first, and gave her an honest-to-goodness smile that started in his mouth before landing in his lovely brown eyes. She might have forgiven him if not for the fact that she knew the moment his companion noticed it too. Jonah’s buff brown forearm with white shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows moved to slide across the back of his chair, as his head turned and his eyes found hers.

Nothing like a polite smile there. In fact, Jonah was scowling at her as if the fact that he’d trapped her into a kiss gave him some kind of right to be upset with her for making a date with another man.

Gripping her sparkly purse so he couldn’t see her trembling, Avery dragged her eyes from his and found Luke standing. Such a gentleman, unlike certain others who were giving her a once-over that made her feel as if her sophistication had been peeled all the way back to skin.

“Lovely to see you, Luke,” she said.

“Evening, Avery. Don’t you look stunning?”

“Thank you. As do you.”

Jonah coughed beside her.

With a smile she leant into Luke for a kiss. With a light hand on her hip, he pressed his lips to her cheek. Nice lips, she thought. Firm. The hand on her hip brief but sure. And he smelled great. When he pulled away she waited for that lovely feeling of bereftness that came when a lover was no longer close enough to touch.

And realised with a sense of impending doom she’d be waiting forever.

“Good evening, Avery,” said a deep voice to her left.

Avery looked into the deep grey eyes of Jonah North. He’d stood. Belatedly. And yet she had to knock her knees together to hold back the tide of heat that swept over her at the mere sight of him.

“Jonah,” she managed.

All she got for her effort was a flicker of an eyebrow, and a slow smile. She leant in for a perfunctory kiss, trying not to remember with quite so much clarity the other kiss. Failing spectacularly as his hand landed on her hip like a brand. The touch of his stubble against her cheek was a delicious rasp that she felt at the backs of her knees. And when he pulled away she felt not so much bereft as bulldozed.

She blinked. And when a smile finally reached his eyes, making them crinkle, making them gleam, she realised that she probably looked exactly like she felt.

“Claude,” said Luke, “looking just as lovely.”

Claudia stood behind her chair at that, her lips tightening as if she was waiting for the “but.” But when it didn’t come she gave Luke a quick nod. His eyes darkened, before, with a tilt of his lips, he returned the nod.

Then, Mr Oblivious proceeded to help Claudia into her chair. Meaning Avery had to put up with Jonah doing the same for her, leaving her feeling every inch of exposed skin in her shimmery strapless top.

Then Luke sat on one side of Avery looking intently at the menu, Jonah sat on the other staring her down, while Claudia’s eyes smiled in relief over the top of a cocktail she must have ordered before she’d ever arrived.

Oh, well. She’d admit romantic defeat where it came to the estimable Luke Hargreaves, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t have a very nice catch-up with the boy she’d once known.

And if that pissed off the man on the other side of the table, well, he could lump it.

* * *

An hour later, Avery was so exhausted from being charming she could barely sit up straight. Taking a breather, she let the fifties torch song in the background and the chatter of the three friends float over her.

“You okay, Ave?” Claudia asked, the second Avery closed her eyes.

“Shh,” she said, opening one eye, “I love this song.”

Claudia listened. Then hummed in agreement. “Don’t make ’em like they used to.”

When the men had nothing to say to that, Claude jabbed them both in the arm. “Talk about not making ’em like they used to... Come on. One of you please ask the poor woman to dance.”

“Claude—” Avery blushed. And blushed some more when Luke pushed his chair back and held out a hand. With a cock of his head towards the dance floor he invited her to join him.

She felt Jonah’s eyes on hers, but stopped herself from looking his way. With a smile she put her hand in Luke’s and lifted to her feet before following him to the dance floor to find they were the only ones there.

Without preamble he swung her out to the end of one arm before hauling her back. She grabbed him tight, breathless with laughter, her fingers gripping his upper arms. And then with a grace she couldn’t have hoped for he calmed them into a perfect sway.

She glanced over his shoulder to find Jonah watching her, his white shirt doing its best to cage all that well-earned muscle, the collar slightly askew as if he’d torn the top button open in a hurry, his eyes dark and shadowed in the low lighting. Her stomach sparked, her skin tightening. When he lifted his drink in salute, she knew she’d been staring.

Luke felt...nice, safe. He smelled...clean. He danced...really well. The tiki torches about the edges of her vision wavered and gleamed, catching on jewellery, on sparkles in women’s clothes. It would have been such a nice story to one day tell their grandchildren...if only she didn’t find it easier to wax lyrical about her surroundings than the man in her arms.

Luke started, and turned them both to find Jonah behind him, a finger raised to tap Luke’s shoulder. Yet the interloper’s deep grey eyes were only on Avery’s as he said, “May I cut in?”

Eyebrows raised, a not-so-surprised smile on his face, Luke turned back to Avery for an answer. “What do you think?” he asked. “Should I release you into the clutches of this ragamuffin?”

Should he? Avery felt as if her world were tipping on its axis. But when her eyes slid back to Jonah’s and she felt her entire body fill to the brim with sparks, she knew with a finality that tightened her stomach into a fist that nice and safe weren’t in her near future.

She must have nodded, or maybe she simply drifted into Jonah’s arms. Either way, she didn’t even feel Luke slip away, just that Jonah was there. She had one hand in his, his other hand burning a palm-print into her lower back—her whole body melted.

On the edge of her consciousness, the song came to an end. But they didn’t stop swaying. Her eyes didn’t leave Jonah’s. And his didn’t leave hers.

He pulled her closer still, till—without either of them breaking any indecency laws—every bit of her that could touch every bit of him did. When he lowered his hand so that his little finger dipped below the waistline of her pants, her breath hitched in her throat.

“Avery,” he said, his voice rough and low.

“I know,” she said, and as his arms folded around her she leant her head on his chest, the deep thundering of his heart more than a match for hers.

* * *

Whether it was the cocktails Claude was knocking back or Avery’s sudden rose-tinted view of the world, she couldn’t say—but the rest of the night Luke and Claude seemed to get along without sniping at one another. Which was nice. Or it would have been if Jonah hadn’t kept finding ways to touch Avery. The slide of his foot against hers, resting his hand on her knee, drifting a finger over her shoulder. At that point nice was no longer in her vocabulary.

When the last dessert plate was cleared, and the bill had been paid, Claude sat back with a hand over her stomach. “Who’s going to roll me back to my big beautiful home that I adore so very much?” She glanced at Avery before her gaze slid to Jonah. “Forget that. I’ll be just fine on my own.”

With a sigh, Luke pushed back his chair before collecting Claude with a hand under her elbow. She whipped her elbow away as if burned. But Luke took her hand and threaded it through his elbow and locked it there tight. “Come on, sunshine. Let’s get back to our crumbling white elephant before it falls into the sea.”

“She’s not crumbling. She has...elegant patina.”

Luke shot Avery a smile, Jonah a told-you-so look, then, with Claude babbling about fresh paint and passion, they disappeared through the door.

Jonah stood and held out a hand. This time there was no hesitation as Avery put her hand in his.

Outside the air was still and sweet, the road back from the beach devoid of crowds, the moon raining its brilliant light over the world. And as soon as Avery’s eyes met Jonah’s they were in one another’s arms.

The moment their lips met, she felt parts of herself implode on impact. Heat sluiced through the gaps, her nerves went into total meltdown until she was a trembling mass of need, and want, and unhinged desire.

The sweet clinging kiss of the day before was a mere memory as Jonah plundered her senses with his touch, with the insistent seduction of his lips, the intimate rhapsody of his tongue.

Desperation riding them both, Avery’s back slammed against a wall, the rough brick catching on her top, her hair, her skin. But she didn’t care. She merely tilted and shifted until the kiss was as deep as it could be.

It wasn’t deep enough.

All those clothes in the way. She tugged his shirt from his jeans and tore the thing open, her eyes drinking in the sight of him as her hand slid up his torso, through the tight whorls of hair, palming the scorching-hot skin, loving the harsh suck of his breath and the way the hard ridges of muscle jumped under her touch.

With a growl he lifted her bodily, till she wrapped her legs around him, her head rolling back as his mouth went to her neck, to her shoulder, the sweet spot behind her ear.

When he tugged her top down an inch, his nails scraping her soft skin, his tongue finding the edge of her nipple, she froze, the tiniest thread of sense coming back to her from somewhere deep down inside. It might be near midnight, but they were in a public place, her legs around his waist, one arm cradling his head, the other beneath his shirt and riding the length of his back.

“Jonah,” she said, her voice a whisper on the still night air.

She felt him tense, then relax, just a fraction, but enough that he lifted his head to rest it against her collarbone, his deep breaths warming her bone deep.

Avery opened her eyes to the sky.

When Jonah had asked her to dance Luke hadn’t been surprised. He’d been waiting for it. Which meant it hadn’t been spur of the moment. Hadn’t been some kind of He-Has-Girl-So-I-Want-Girl reaction.

This big, beautiful, difficult, taciturn, hard-to-crack man had staked his claim.

And scary as the feelings tumbling about inside of her at that knowledge were, the brilliance of them won out.

“Take me home, Jonah.”

He held his breath, his chest pressing hard into hers so that she could feel the steady thump of his big strong heart.

“You sure?”

She slid a hand into the back of his hair, the tight curls ensnaring her fingers.

He growled, and she trapped the sound with her kiss as she strove to make the best mistake of her life.