The Morning After The Wedding Before (6 page)

As a teenager blocking out those same sounds while trying to finish homework, because he’d known that to escape the place, to take control of his life and become a better man than his father, he needed to study.

Jake knew how to have a good time. A good time involved no strings, no stress. No emotion. Was he like his father in more ways than looks? He clenched his jaw as he turned a corner and the hotel came into view.
Shoot me now
.

He picked up his pace. Earl had used women, whereas Jake respected his partners. The women he associated with were professional career types more often than not—unlike Earl’s. They were confident, intelligent and attractive, and they understood where he was coming from. He made it clear up front that he wasn’t into any long-term commitment deals and they didn’t expect more than he wanted to give.

It was honest, at least.

Emma was braced to see Jake, not Ryan, waiting in the lobby. So she took the three flights of stairs rather than the elevator. Deliberately slowly. Admiring the delicate crystal lighting along the hallway, the local landscape paintings on the walls as she reached the top of the ground floor. The thick black carpet emblazoned with the hotel’s gold crest.

But seeing Jake standing at the base of the sweeping staircase as she descended, one bronzed hand on the newel post, dark hair gleaming beneath the magnificent black chandelier, with his jacket slung over his shoulder like some sort of designer-jeans-clad Rhett Butler …

Her hand was gliding along the silky wooden banister or her legs might have given out. She might even have sighed like Scarlett; she couldn’t be sure. She was too busy shoring up her defences against those dark eyes and the heart-winning smile. Because she knew in that instant that this man could be the one with the power to undo her.

Slowing halfway down, she leaned a hip against the staircase, sucked in a badly needed breath.
Stay cool
, she
told herself.
Cool and aloof and annoyed
. He thought he’d tricked her into coming but she knew better. Didn’t she? She frowned to herself. She was here, after all.

Because Stella had asked her.

Right. Straightening, she resumed her descent, concentrating on not tripping over her feet, her eyes drawn to him no matter how hard she tried to look away. That sinner’s smile and those darker-than-sin eyes …

‘Are you feeling all right?’ he asked when she reached the bottom step.

She looked at him warily. ‘Why wouldn’t I?’

‘You looked as if you were swaying there for a second or two. I thought you were going to swoon, and then I’d have been forced to play the hero again.’

‘I did not sway. Or swoon. And you are
not
my hero. I’m guessing there are no fortune cookies either.’

He grinned. ‘You’re guessing wrong.’ He took her elbow, led her across the glittering marbled foyer. At intervals floor-to-ceiling glass columns illuminated from within threw up a clear white light. He stopped by a little coffee table with two cosy leather armchairs. ‘Sit.’

She did, gratefully, sinking into the soft black leather.

He pulled two scraps of paper from his jeans pocket, checked them both, then placed one on her lap.

‘This isn’t a fortune cookie.’

‘I have to admit Ry and I ate them. But we saved you girls the messages.’

She unrolled the little square. ‘“A caress is better than a career.”‘ Where the heck had he found
that
little gem? ‘Says who?
And
it would depend on who’s doing the caressing.’

But her traitorous thoughts could imagine Jake’s warm, wicked hands wandering over her bare skin … Lost in the
fantasy for a pulse-pounding moment, she stared unseeingly at the paper in front of her.
For heaven’s sake
.

She forced her head up, regarded him with serene indifference. ‘This isn’t from a fortune cookie. You made these yourselves.’

He spread his hands on his thighs, all innocence. ‘Why would I do that?’

‘To get me downstairs, perhaps?’

His smile came out like sunshine on a cold day. ‘You have to admit it’s inventive.’

‘Deceptive, more like.’

‘Hey, Ry has to take some of the credit.’

She felt the smile twitch at the corner of her mouth. ‘What does Stella’s say?’

‘“Two souls, one heart.” Appropriately romantic, Ry thought.’

And Cool Hand Jake didn’t, obviously. ‘She’ll probably sleep with it under her pillow tonight.’ Desperate to distance herself from his enticing woodsy scent and the thought of those coolly efficient hands on her heated body, she pulled her earphones out of her tracksuit pocket. ‘Okay, now that’s out of the way I’m off for a run.’

‘Not so fast.’ He reached over, circling her forearm in a loose grip. ‘You’re going to say you’ve got soap orders to type up or some such rubbish when you get back. Right?’

Right. If she could only remember what … The heat of his hand seemed to be blocking her ability to process simple thought. ‘I—’

‘To avoid me.’

She swallowed down a gasp. He was flying too close to the truth, and it threw her for a loop. ‘Why would you matter th—?’

‘You know it. I know it.’ Cutting her off, he leaned forward,
his hold tightening a fraction, his eyes boring into hers. ‘Admit it.’

‘Why?’ Little spots of heat were breaking out all over her body.

‘I matter to you.’ He smiled—grinned, actually—teeth gleaming white in the light. ‘How much do I matter, Emma?’

She pushed a hand over the crown of her head, her mind a jumble. ‘Stop it. You’re confusing me. This is the last evening I’ll see my sister before she gets married. I … I’m going to spend the evening with her—a maid of honour thing.’

‘Of course. And you can. In a little while.’ His thumb abraded the inside of her wrist, sending tiny tingles scuttling up her arm. ‘She won’t mind,’ he continued in that same liquid caramel tone. ‘In fact I’m betting she’s enjoying her soak in the spa right now.’

‘It
was
you on the phone.’

‘Guilty.’ He grinned again, totally unrepentant. As if he pulled that kind of stunt all the time to bend women to his will. ‘She’s confiscated your laptop, by the way.’

‘What?’

‘Your sister agrees with me that you need time out from work.’

She gaped at him, incredulous. ‘You two discussed my
needs?
’ The image popped into her mind before she could call it back, along with the overly explicit, overly stressed word, and the whole calamity hung thick in the air like a sultry evening.

His eyes turned a warmer shade of dark. ‘Not all of them. But we’ll get to that. Stella wants you to enjoy her wedding, not be distracted by orders and schedules. She’s concerned about you. And frankly—’

‘What do you mean, “we’ll get to that”? Get to what?’
Her voice rose on a crescendo. A couple of heads turned their way.

‘This isn’t the place,’ he murmured, his voice all the quieter for her raised one.

Changing his grip, he pulled her up before she could mutter any sound of protest. He was so close she could feel the heat emanating from his body, could smell expensive leather jacket and freshly showered male skin.

‘The place?’ she echoed. ‘Place for what?’

He entwined his fingers with hers. ‘Why don’t we take a walk and find out?’

E
MMA
blinked up at him through her eyelashes. It took her a scattered moment to realise she was still holding her earphones in her free hand and that her other hand was captured by the biggest, warmest hand it had ever come into contact with. She told herself she didn’t want to be holding his hand … but who was she kidding but herself?

‘Run,’
she managed, pulling out of his grasp. ‘I was going for a
run
.’ And if she was sensible she’d keep running all the way back to Sydney.

‘I’ll join you.’

She glanced at his leather jacket and casual shoes, deliberately bypassing the interesting bits in between. ‘You’re hardly dressed for it.’

‘I’ll try to keep up.’
His
gaze cruised down her body like a slow boat on a meandering river, all the way to her well-worn sneakers. ‘What about your ankle?’

‘It’s fine.’ He’d be offering to carry her next, so she conceded defeat. ‘Okay, we’ll walk.’ Stuffing her earphones back in her pocket, she accompanied him outside and onto the street.

The air had a cold bite and an invigorating eucalypt scent that called to her senses, and she breathed deep.

‘I saw a little café on the way here,’ he suggested.

‘I didn’t come to the mountains to be shut in a stuffy café with a bunch of city slickers up for the weekend.’

‘Of which we’re two,’ he pointed out.

‘I want to see the Three Sisters by night and sample some mountain air. Come on, it’s a ten-minute walk to Echo Point.’

He took her hand again. ‘What are we waiting for?’

They followed the hotel wall that enclosed the beautiful garden where tomorrow’s ceremony would take place until it gave way to bushland fenced off from the road. Beyond, the ground fell away more than two hundred metres to the valley floor. Neither talked, but a feeling of camaraderie settled between them. Both were absorbed in the mutual appreciation of their surroundings.

The minute the famous Three Sisters rock formation came into view Emma came to an awed stop. ‘Wow.’ She hung back from the main vantage point where a few tourists were milling about, unwilling to share the moment with strangers.

Floodlit, the Sisters gleamed a rich gold against the black velvet backdrop, surrounding trees catching the light and providing a lacy emerald frame. The never-ending sky blazed with stars.

She sighed, drinking in the sight. ‘Aren’t you glad we didn’t go for coffee?’

‘That first glimpse always packs a punch, that’s for sure.’

His voice rumbled through her body and she realised he’d let go of her hand while she’d been taking in the view and was now standing behind her, his chin on top of her head.

‘Did you know the Aboriginal Dreaming story tells us there were three brothers who fell in love with three sisters from another tribe and were forbidden to marry?’ She
hugged her elbows, and it seemed natural to lean back into Jake’s warmth.

In response, a pair of rock-solid arms slid around to the front of her waist. ‘Go on. I’m sure there’s more.’

‘A battle ensued, and when the men tried to capture them, a tribal elder turned the maidens into stone to protect them.’

‘And right there,’ he drawled lazily, ‘you’re viewing a lesson to be heeded about the dangers of love and marriage.’

She turned within the circle of his arms. ‘The sad thing is the sisters had no say in any of it.’

‘But you do,’ he murmured against her brow. And bent his head.

Warm breath caressed her skin and her heart began to pound in earnest. He was going to kiss her … And she wasn’t in a fit state to be running anywhere.

Her legs trembled and her mind turned to mush as anticipation spun through her and she looked up. His face was so close she could feel the warmth of his skin, could see its evening shadow of stubble. He had the longest, darkest eyelashes she’d ever seen on a man. And his eyes … had she ever seen such eyes? As bottomless as the yawning chasm they’d come to view.

Then a half-moon slid from behind a cloud, bathing his perfect features in silver, as if the gods had hammered him so.

‘You can tell me no.’ He loosened his hold around her waist slightly. ‘Right here in front of the Sisters you can exercise your free will as a modern woman. Push me away if you want. Or you can accept what we’ve been tiptoeing around for the past few days and kiss me.’

‘Tiptoeing?’ she whispered. ‘I haven’t—’

‘And it’s time it stopped.’

‘Kiss you …?’ Her words floated into the air on a little white puff as she looked up into his eyes. Dark and deep and direct. Had he mentioned free will? Her will had suddenly gone AWOL; she’d felt it drift out of her and hang somewhere over Jamieson Valley with the evening mist.

His gaze dropped to her mouth. Strong fingers curled around her biceps. ‘And this time I’m warning you I’m not letting you go until I’m good and ready.’

The way he said it, all male attitude and arrogance, sent a shiver of excitement along her nerve-endings. Emma heard a whisper of sound issue from her throat an instant before his lips touched hers.

Then she was lost. In his taste: rich and velvety, like the world’s finest chocolate. His cool mossy scent mingled with leather. The warmth of his body as he shifted her against him for a closer fit.

She should have stopped it right there, told him no—he’d given her the option. But her response was torn from her like autumn’s last leaf in a storm-ravaged forest. Irrational. Irresistible. Irrevocable.

Voices ebbed and flowed in the distance but she barely heard them above the pounding of her pulse, her murmur of approval as she melted against him like butter on a barbecue grill. Her arms slid around his waist to burrow under his jacket, where he was warm and solid through the T-shirt’s soft jersey.

Jake felt her resistance soften, her luscious lips grow pliant as she opened for him, giving him full access, and he plunged right in. Dark, decadent delight. Moans and murmurs. Her tongue tangled with his, velvet on satin, and her taste was as sweet as spun sugar.

Dragging her against him, he moved closer, his fingertips tracking down her spine, over the flare of her backside, where he pressed her closer so he could feel her heat.

So she could feel his rapidly growing erection butting against her.

He felt the change instantly—subtle, but sure. A tensing of muscles. A change in her stance. She didn’t move away and her lips were still locked with his, but …

Breaking the kiss with a good deal of reluctance, he leaned back to look at her. They were the same age—both twenty-seven—but she looked impossibly young with her hair scraped back from her face, her eyes huge dark pools in the moonlight, her mouth plundered.

He stroked a finger over the groove that had formed between her brows. ‘You’re thinking too hard.’

‘One of us should.’ She didn’t look away. Nor did the frown smooth out.

‘Okay. Talk to me.’

She took a step back. ‘This … thing between us is getting way too complicated.’

‘Seems pretty straightforward to me. So I’m proposing a deal,’ he went on before she could argue, resting his hands on her shoulders. ‘This weekend neither of us talks about work.’ He touched his forehead to hers. ‘We don’t
think
about work. We’re both between partners, so we’ll enjoy the wedding and each other’s company … and whatever happens
happens
. No complications. One weekend, Emma.’

‘One weekend.’ She leaned away, her eyes clouded with conflicting emotions. ‘And then what?’

‘Put next week out of your mind, it’s too far away.’

Come Monday they’d go their separate ways. Back to real life and working ridiculous hours. Emma and the Blue Mountains would be nothing but a warm and pretty memory.

‘Think about this instead,’ he said, sliding his hands down her upper arms. ‘Neither of us wants to be tied down,
and we both work our backsides off. We deserve some playtime.’

‘Playtime?’
She stared up at him, her eyes the colour of the mist-swirled mountains behind her. ‘No deal. Not with you.’

‘Why not? Afraid you might enjoy yourself?’

She rolled her lips together, as if to stop whatever she’d been about to say, then said, ‘I just don’t want to play with you, that’s all.’ She turned and began walking back the way they’d come.

‘Liar.’ Grabbing her arm, he walked around her, blocking her path until they stood face to face. ‘Tell me you didn’t enjoy that kiss just now.’

She studied him a moment. ‘I didn’t enjoy that kiss just now.’

He laughed. ‘You started it. That night at the restaurant. You blew me away with your enthusiasm and got me seriously thinking about you. And me. I haven’t stopped thinking about you and me—together—since.’

‘I told you, that kiss was an overreaction to a particular circumstance,’ she said primly. ‘And what are we—kids?
“You started it”
,’ she muttered with a roll of her eyes, but he thought he saw a hint of humour there too.

She looked so delightful he couldn’t resist—he planted a firm smacking kiss on those pouted lips then grinned. ‘I’d better get you back. Stella’ll be starting to think I’ve kidnapped you.’

Grabbing her hand, he tugged her alongside him along the path towards the hotel. The weekend had barely begun, plenty of time to convince her to change her mind.

‘So. Seen any good movies lately?’

She kept up a brisk pace beside him. ‘No.’

‘Me neither. Stella mentioned you swim every morning, come rain or shine. Is that true?’

‘Yes.’

‘So … if I were to change my early-morning jog—’

‘One weekend.’ She jerked to a sudden halt and looked up at him. ‘And whatever happens happens?’

A strand of hair had come loose and blew across her eyes. He smoothed it back, tucked it behind her ear. ‘We’ll take things as they come. It’ll be good, I promise.’

Oh, yes, she knew. Emma stared into those beguiling eyes. ‘I bet you say that to all the girls.’ She couldn’t believe she was having this conversation with Jake Carmody.

She resumed walking, hoping she was headed in the right direction. Everything seemed surreal. The moonlight distorting their combined shadows on the path in front of them. The sharp eucalpyt fragrance of the bushland. The way her body was responding to his proximity even now.

His seductive charm really knew no bounds. No wonder women swooned and fell at his feet. She firmed her jaw. Not
this
woman. Still, she didn’t have to swoon, exactly …

He was suggesting what amounted to nothing more than a weekend of sex and sin. Heat shimmied down her spine. A weekend on Pleasure Island. She had no doubt Jake could deliver, and couldn’t deny the idea called to her on more than one level. But was she game enough? Why not? It wasn’t a lifetime commitment, for heaven’s sake.

Since her father’s death eleven years ago she’d worked her butt off to make things better for them all. Jake had made it clear to her that it was past time she took something for herself. One weekend to be free and irresponsible. And this weekend, with Stella leaving home and the love rat a disappearing blot on her horizon, was it perhaps a good time to start?

They reached the hotel and she hesitated on the shallow steps out front. Her cheeks felt hot and super sensitive, as if a feather might flay away the skin.

She turned to say goodnight and met his gaze. The heat from that kiss still shimmered in his eyes, and it took all her will-power to keep from flinging herself at him and kissing him again.

Deliberately she stepped back, aware she hadn’t given him an answer and just as aware they both already knew what her answer would be. She turned towards the building.

A liveried porter swept the wide glass door open with a welcoming smile and warm air swirled out. ‘Good evening, madam.’

‘Good evening.’ She smiled back, wondering if her cheeks and lips were as pink and chapped as they felt. From the safety of distance, she turned to Jake once more. ‘Till tomorrow, then.’

‘Get a good night’s sleep.’

His smile was pure sin.
You’ll need it
—no mistaking that message in those hot dark eyes, and her heart turned a high somersault. It continued its gymnastics all the way up the three flights of stairs.

Stella was bundled in a fluffy white hotel robe on the couch, watching a TV cook-off, when she entered.

‘Traitor.’ But there was no sting in the word as Emma pulled out the fortune cookie note and dropped it on Stella’s lap. ‘For you.’ Because her legs were still wobbly, she flopped down on the couch beside her.

‘“Two hearts, one soul.” Ooh, I’ve gone all gooey inside.’ Smiling broadly, Stella tucked her legs up beneath her. ‘What does yours say?’

She shook her head, that overly warm sensation prickling her skin. ‘Never mind.’

Stella stuck out her hand, palm up. ‘Come on—give.’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake.’ Emma dug into her pocket again, then glued her attention to the TV screen, but she
wasn’t seeing it. ‘It’s not romantic, like yours. And that’s okay because I’m not a romantic like you.’ She pressed a fist to her lips to stem the flow.

‘“A caress is better than a career.” Of course it’s romantic, silly. It’s telling you to take time out and enjoy … To …
Em
.’

‘Where’s my computer, by the way? Jake said … never mind.’ Emma could feel Stella’s gaze on her and jerked herself off the couch without waiting for an answer. ‘I’m going to take a bath.’

‘Oh. My. Lord.’

‘What?’ She was in the process of ripping off her tracksuit jacket but stopped at her sister’s tone. ‘What’s wrong?’

Stella was staring at her. And pointing. ‘What have you done with my sister?’

‘What are you talking about?’ She shrugged her shoulders. Ran a hand around her neck. ‘What’s he done?’

‘Ha!’ Stella jabbed her finger in the air again. ‘I should be asking what
Jake’s
done with my sister.’

‘No. It’s nothing. Don’t you say one word to Jake or I’ll—’

‘
Not
nothing.’ Stella craned forward, studying Emma as if she was counting her eyelashes. ‘My big sister with fresh whisker burn around her mouth. And stars in her eyes. She’s never had stars in her eyes.
Never
.’