Читать книгу The Morning After The Wedding Before - Anne Oliver - Страница 9

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.

She didn’t mind giving up her time or her money, but her mother was recovered now and Emma’s sacrifices went unacknowledged and unappreciated.

And now she’d discovered the man she’d loved had been cheating on her for God knew how long, and in Jake’s opinion it was because she was so focused on her work.

But Jake knew nothing about it, and she intended for it to stay that way. It did not excuse Wayne. Even the fact that the girl was more exotic than she was, more voluptuous … more everything … was no excuse. She was tempted to run downstairs and tell him what she thought of him, let Rani in on his dirty little secret—except she never wanted to see him again and she’d only make herself look like a fool. ‘If nothing else, I expect honesty in a relationship.’

‘You call a regular Friday night bonk a relationship?’ he said.

She met his stare with a defiant stare of her own. ‘It suited us.’

‘It suited you.’

She bit her lip to stop unwanted words from spilling out. ‘I thought what we had was what he wanted too.’

‘Yeah, I’m sure it was.’

His dry comment riled her further. She rubbed the chill from her arms while inside her the anger and hurt and humiliation burned bright and strong. Better him thinking she was an idiot than knowing the embarrassing truth—that she was a naïve, gullible idiot.

‘Sometimes I get so damn tired of doing what everyone else wants. What other people expect …’ She trailed off when she saw Wayne and Rani outside an Italian restaurant on the street below. While his fiancée studied the menu in the window he glanced up and met Emma’s eyes.

Renewed outrage surged through the other emotions in a dark wave. She refused to step back, refused to be the one to break eye contact. How dared he? Their weekly love-in had been a lie. They’d been seeing each other for months and the whole time he’d been deceiving her.

Making a fool of her.

In an uncharacteristic move, she made a rude hand gesture … and it felt good. Especially when Wayne looked away first. She spun away towards Jake, finding an oddly reassuring comfort in his presence. ‘And sometimes I just want to live my own life and to hell with everything and everyone.’

‘So start now, Em,’ he said, his voice gentle yet firm. ‘Change your life. Do what you want for a change.’

She stared into those dark eyes holding hers. What did she want?

All she saw was Jake.

Every rational thought flew away. Every drop of sense drained out of her as she stepped nearer to him, her eyes only leaving his to drift to his mouth.

What I want …

Before she could warn herself that this was a Really Bad Idea, she launched forward, cupped his jaw between her hands and plastered her lips to his.

Her heart gave a single hard jolt, and a little voice whispered, This is what I’ve been waiting for. The sizzle zapped all the way to her toes and back again before frustration and fury liquefied into heat and hunger. She flung herself into the moment, indulging her senses. The warmth of his mouth against hers was a counterfoil for his cool, refreshing scent—like moss on a pristine forest floor.

Caught off guard, Jake rocked back on his heels before steadying himself, and her, his hands finding purchase on the smooth slope of her hips as he kissed her back.

Emma. Her taste—new and unforgettably sweet. The fragrance of soap and shampoo and woman all wrapped up in the texture of skin-warmed silk beneath his fingers.

She was a rising tornado of emotion and needs, and it whipped around the edges of his own darker desires. The word complication lurked somewhere at the back of his mind. He shrugged it away and instead, sliding his palms around to her back, hauled her closer and settled in to savour more of the exquisite sensations battering him.

‘Ohh …’ The sound was exhaled on a strangled gasp as firm hands pushed at his chest. She jerked out of his hold, eyes wide. ‘I didn’t … That was …’

‘Nice,’ he finished for her. His hormone-ravished body protested the gross understatement even as he knew she was just using him to get back at the drivelling idiot probably still watching the performance from the other side of the street.

As quickly as it had blown in the whirlwind subsided leaving only a tantalising whisper as she stared up at him, rolled her lips between her teeth and said, ‘I don’t know why I … did that.’

‘You were upset. I was here.’ Enjoying the way her eyes reflected her conflict, he couldn’t help but grin. ‘Have to tell you it wins hands down over the punch you threatened to dole out earlier.’

‘I … need to see if Mum’s ready to go home.’

‘Emma.’ He lifted a hand, dropped it when she edged farther away. ‘Don’t beat yourself up. It was just a kiss. And I’m sure Wayne got the message.’

She flinched as if he’d hit her. ‘He wasn’t the … He wasn’t look—I was … Oh, forget it.’

And in the light filtering through from the restaurant he glimpsed twin spots of colour flag her cheeks before she whirled around and made a dash to the door.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he leaned a hip against the railing while he waited for his body’s horny reaction to subside. You kiss me like that, honey, I ain’t gonna forget.

It was too bad she’d come to her senses so quickly. He didn’t mind being used when it came in the form of a beautiful woman in distress—particularly when the woman had seemed oblivious that she had, in fact, used him. He looked down at the street. No sign of the scumbag.

He could still smell Emma; the fresh, untainted fragrance lingered in the air, on his clothes. The flavour of that one luscious kiss still danced on his tastebuds. The surprise of it—of her—like the first green sprout emerging from the carnage of a bushfire, still vibrated along his bones. She’d reacted without thinking for a hot and heavy moment there, and he’d enjoyed every second.

So had she.

And he wasn’t going to let her forget either. Her weekly love-in arrangement proved she did casual. And she expected honesty from her lover. They had something in common on both counts.

He watched her walk towards a group who were preparing to leave and smiled to himself. The upcoming wedding weekend was looking better and better.

Emma gulped in a calming breath, drew herself tall, and walked unsteadily towards her table, trying not to remember she’d just kissed Jake Carmody senseless. Correction: she was the one who was senseless. The dinner left-overs had been cleared away. Only a rumpled and food stained red tablecloth remained. And a few curious faces were aimed her way.

‘Emma …’ Stella trailed off, her gaze sliding over Emma’s shoulder.

The back of Emma’s neck warmed. Her cheeks scorched. ‘Um … sorry.’ Was it possible to speak more than one word at a time? She waved a hand in front of her face. ‘Needed some air.’

‘We were starting to wonder whether you two had slipped away without—’

‘Jake and I were just catching up.’ She collected her purse. ‘Mum, are you ready to leave? I’ve got some work to do before I go to bed.’ She didn’t wait for an answer, moving around the table saying her goodnights.

‘Can I get a lift with you?’ Stella reached for her own bag. ‘Ryan’s taking his parents home, and I want a couple of early nights this week.’

‘Sure.’ Emma steered clear of Jake, muttering a quick goodnight without looking at him, and from a safe distance on the other side of the table, then headed for the stairs.

‘You okay, Em?’ Stella asked beside her as they drove home. ‘You’re awfully quiet.’

‘Wayne came into the restaurant while we were there,’ she said, her voice tightening. ‘With his fiancée.’

‘Oh. Oh, Em. I’m sorry. You guys split up—what?—only a month ago?’

‘What did you expect?’ her mother piped up from the back seat. ‘If you mixed with the right people like your sister, instead of hiding away in that studio night after night, y—’

‘I’m not hiding.’ Emma sighed inwardly. Stella had nursed their mother, then fallen in love with a wealthy man; in Bernice Byrne’s eyes her younger daughter could do no wrong. ‘I enjoy what I do, Mum.’

‘Like you enjoyed cleaning other people’s toilets and stocking supermarket shelves after school too, I remember. Just another excuse not to meet people.’

Emma pressed her lips together to stop the angry words from rushing out. Yeah, Mum? Where would we be if I hadn’t? In a rented bedsit on the wrong side of town. Not in Gran’s home, that’s for sure.

‘Mum, that’s not fair.’ Stella spoke sharply.

‘It’s not, Stella. But then, life’s not always fair—right, Mum?’ Emma glanced at her mother in the rearview mirror. ‘And sometimes it makes us hurt and lash out and say things we shouldn’t. So I forgive you. You’re not sorry about Wayne, Stella, and neither am I. And I don’t want to talk about it. Him.’

‘No, you’d rather kiss that good-for-nothing Jake Carmody behind the palms like some floozie,’ her mother muttered.

Emma jolted, her whole body burning with the memory. And her mother, of all people, had obviously seen the entire catastrophe. Something close to rebellion simmered inside her and made her say, ‘Jake’s hardly a good-for-nothing, Mum—he has a well-established practice in business law.’ She couldn’t help feeling a sense of indignation on his behalf.

The strip club aside, she knew enough about Jake to know he’d worked hard all those years ago, taking jobs where he could get them to pay his way through uni.

Whereas Ryan came from old money. He’d graduated in the sciences and held a PhD in Microbiology—all expenses paid by Daddy. Then he’d volunteered his skills in Africa for a couple of years before hooking up again with Stella.

From the corner of her eye she saw Stella shift in her seat and turn to look at her. Suddenly uncomfortable, Emma lifted a shoulder. ‘What?’

‘Jake kissed you?’ she said slowly. ‘Like a proper kiss?’

‘Not exactly.’ Emma couldn’t resist a quick glance at her mum in the mirror again. ‘Mum got it right. It was more like … I kissed him.’ As she relived that moment something like exhilaration shot through her bloodstream. ‘What about it?’

‘Ooh, that’s so … hmm … You and Jake?’

Emma heard the smile in her sister’s voice, could almost hear her mind ticking over.

‘Wouldn’t it be cool if—?’

‘Not me and Jake. You know him. Every red-blooded female in Sydney knows him. Didn’t mean anything.’

‘But—’

‘No buts.’

‘Okay. But … The wedding will give you two time to catch up. You liked him well enough when we were younger, I remember.’

‘Yeah—in a galaxy far, far away.’

‘Not that far, Em. He lives in Bondi now. Only an hour’s stroll along the coast … if you feel inclined.’

‘I don’t. I won’t.’

But she couldn’t blot him from her mind when she crawled into bed that night. She had been looking forward to seeing Jake again, even if it was only to assure herself she was well and truly over him.

But she didn’t want to catch up with a seedy strip club owner who used women for his own purposes—both for his personal satisfaction and his burgeoning bank account.

But, oh, that moment of insanity … his lips on hers, his hands tugging her against the heat of his hard, muscled body …

And it was insanity. She stared up at the music room’s low stained ceiling and tried not to hear the thick elevated thud of her heartbeat in her ears. She could have kept it simple. A friendly few days in the company of a good-looking guy. But she’d kissed him like one of his Brandies or Candies … and she’d changed everything.