by Cathryn Hein
Now it was lunch time, and sexual tension had given away to something else—a need for a different kind of intimacy.
‘Work can wait,’ he said, even as his head warned he was treading dangerously. His heart though, wanted to linger with her.
Jas studied him for a moment, then placed her mug aside and eased onto her back, holding her hand to her brow to shade out the sun. ‘This weather won’t last.’
Digby turned onto his hip and propped on his elbow so he could observe her. Every night he seemed to dream of Jas. He knew her face, her body, yet come daytime each glance, each new angle, seemed to provide a fresh way to captivate him. ‘Probably not, which is why we should make the most of it while we can.’
She rolled her head to the side. ‘By not working?’
‘Nothing wrong with a bit of relaxation.’
She twisted her bottom lip and blew sideways to shift a curl that had fallen on her cheek. Without thinking, Digby reached to stroke it out of the way, the tips of his fingers stalling on the silk of her hair and the satin surface of her skin. Her eyes widened before she quickly covered her surprise. Realising he’d crossed a boundary, Digby withdrew and sat up, but he could feel her gaze on his back.
They were friends. No benefits unless she decided. That was their tacit agreement. He had no right to that degree of closeness. But not sharing any at all with her was driving him insane.
His own mug was beside him, the tea cold. Digby rose and tossed it onto a garden bed. When he turned around, Jas was still lying down, hand back shading her eyes so he couldn’t read them. Her jacket was open and the stretch of her arm had lifted her T-shirt up her belly, exposing a pale sliver of skin. Digby found himself staring like a teenager, fingers twitching.
‘Dig?’
He blinked and forced himself to look at her face.
‘What are you doing?’ Jasmine’s voice was soft, with a husky edge that made his groin tighten even further.
‘Nothing. Waiting for you.’ He regarded the mound of crushed stone they were meant to be shovelling, then lifted his face to the sky. ‘You were right. We should get on with it.’
‘What happened to relaxing?’
Her, that’s what happened. Jas and her pale belly and blue eyes and sexy smile and husky voice that punched want into his chest. And elsewhere.
Which was the truth, but not an answer he could say out loud. He reached out his hand for hers. ‘Come on, lazybones.’
‘Lazybones? I’m not the one who wanted to stay flopping about.’ She allowed him to pull her up and swatted him in the chest. ‘Good thing I need the cheap labour or I’d have you fired for cheek.’
‘You wouldn’t dare.’
Her look turned sly. ‘Wouldn’t I?’
She was being playful, like she used to be when they were lovers, when moments like this usually led to sex. Digby tried to keep his breath even but his blood was rushing into places it shouldn’t and he couldn’t stop staring at her mouth. The subtle fragrance of her soap, overlaid with the earthy tones of sweat, soil and plants, curled around his senses, making it worse. He should step away now, while he could still stuff his secret desire back out of sight, but the thought of having sex with her again fogged his reason.
The hungry caw of a hovering seagull broke his thoughts. Digby took a quick step backward and shoved his fists into his pockets to ease his discomfort and camouflage what was happening in his jeans.
‘You want your path laid or not?’
Her teasing smile and glittering eyes dimmed. ‘Of course I do.’ She gathered up the mugs and walked straight-backed to the house, wretchedness falling over Digby as he watched her go.
The screen door banged closed. He kept staring, rolling over in his mind the rapid change in her demeanour. What it might have meant.
Could she have wanted him to make a move?
It seemed unlikely. She had things going on, a life to rebuild. Perhaps, God help him, even the prospect of a relationship with that Simon, the one everyone promised was a decent bloke and would be a good match for Jas. Digby’s jaw tightened. He stared at the house. Midday sun pounded his head. He needed his hat. He needed escape. He needed something, anything other than the thought he could lose her.
Digby had already lost once. He wasn’t about to lose again.
He leaped up onto the deck and strode across to the screen door, swinging it open. The hall was empty. Jas was probably still rinsing the mugs in the kitchen. He hurried towards the front of the house only to stop when he glimpsed movement in her bedroom.
Jas was sitting on the edge of her bed, her face turned from the door, but he could tell from the way she was hastily swiping her cheeks that she’d been crying.
Digby stood in the doorway. He wanted to go to her but fear of getting it wrong had him anchored.
She sniffed, but kept her face averted. ‘Aren’t you meant to be shovelling?’
‘I came to find you.’
‘I’ll be out in a minute.’
He took two steps into the room, willing her to look at him. She gave her cheeks a last brush and began smoothing the doona. Three strokes, four, five, until barely a wrinkle remained. As though aware another would only draw even more attention, she straightened. Digby took another step closer. One more and he’d be within touching distance.
She spoke stiffly to the window. ‘You get started. I won’t be long.’
‘Jas?’
‘It’s okay. I just need a moment.’
‘Why?’
The noise she made was a strange cross between a sob and a laugh. ‘Because I’m an idiot, that’s why.’
‘You’re not.’ The next step brought him close enough to place his palm on her upper arm and slide it down to take her hand. ‘You’re beautiful and funny and clever and kind.’
Her fingers curled around his. He could hear the pull of her ragged breaths. Digby took another step so he could see her face. Her eyes were closed, her mouth too. There was a pained rigidity to her expression as though she was holding the threads of herself together.
He raised her hand and pressed the back of it to his lips. Her eyelids fluttered open. Jas stared at their joined hands, then at him, as a tiny furrow formed between her brows. Her voice was barely a whisper. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Taking the chance I should have never let pass the first time round.’
Her mouth opened and quickly closed. The furrow deepened. She tugged her hand free from his and gripped her elbow. ‘The first time round wasn’t anything more than a way for us to lick our wounds, Dig. You know that.’
‘Doesn’t mean it didn’t matter.’
Biting her lip, she stared hard at the window, elbow gripped even tighter, arm wedged across her belly like a shield.
‘Jas?’
She shook her head, loosening a teardrop. He reached to gather it with his finger and rested his palm against her cheek. Her skin was hot, her mouth trembling. ‘Please look at me.’
It was a few seconds before she complied, infinitely long seconds in which each heartbeat seemed to thud and vibrate in a noise too loud for the moment.
‘Jas, do you think …’ Digby faltered, suddenly afraid, but aware if he didn’t take this chance it mightn’t come again. That she’d snatch away even the little he had of her because he’d broken the rules they’d set. He cleared his throat, desperate to get this right. ‘You and me …’
‘Do you still love Felicity?’
‘Yes. No.’ He winced. That hadn’t come out the way he wanted. ‘I’ll always love her, Jas. I won’t ever be able to stop that. But if you’re asking whether I’ve finally moved on, then the answer’s yes. I’m ready. For us. If you still feel the same as before, and want there to be an us.’
She didn’t say anything.
Digby swallowed. ‘Do you?’
‘How do you know? That you’re ready, I mean?’
He knew because he loved her, and if there was one emotion he knew intimately it was that.
‘I just do. I can feel it. When I’m around you … I want you, Jas. Have done for ages.’
Jas made a dismissive noise. ‘That’s just sex.’
The weariness of her tone made his heart clench. ‘No. It’s more than that.’
She shook her head.
‘It’s the truth.’ He cradled her face with both hands, desperation thickening his voice. ‘I’m ready. For everything.’
‘Everything?’
‘Yes.’
Jas stared at him and Digby thought for a moment he had her, but her quiet words indicated otherwise. ‘I want to believe you, I really do. But you hurt me.’
‘I know and I can’t tell you how sorry I am for that.’ He stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. ‘I promise you, this is real. How I feel about you. About us. It’s big, Jas.’
She didn’t speak for a long moment, but her gaze was intense on his and there were two tiny wrinkles between her brows. Then her face relaxed and with it rose his hope. ‘You mean it?’
Digby nodded. ‘Yeah, I mean it.’
Slowly, she began to smile.
‘So,’ he said, smiling in return, his heart floating somewhere in space. ‘You and me?’
‘Okay.’
‘Just okay?’
A grin burst across Jasmine’s face. ‘All right then, yes.’ Then her lips were on his and she was breathing yes after yes into his mouth as if she couldn’t say it enough.
Laughing and kissing, they tumbled onto the bed, both talking at once. Stupid, nonsense things that were as perfect as they were silly. Why it took so long. How close they’d each been to forcing the issue. How dumb they were for pretending they were happy with only friendship. Their fears that it would never happen. Their elation at finding each other again. The relief of feeling each other’s touch.
Jasmine’s shirt and bra were on the floor, Digby’s hand on the corner of exposed flesh where her unbuttoned jeans had been pushed down, when he paused to hover above her. He absorbed her look, the pinking of her skin, the hooding of her eyes, the swell of her mouth. Her nipples were turgid, her ribcage rising and falling rapidly with her excited breathing.
‘Christ, I missed this,’ he said.
She arched towards him, her own gaze sweeping his chest and downward. Wanton, sexy. The way he loved her. ‘Me, too.’
The feeling in his heart turned thick as he realised how intense his feelings were, how close he’d come to letting her slip from him. ‘I don’t want to hide us this time. You and me, as a couple. We play this for real. No keeping us secret.’
She smiled and curled her hand around his neck, whispering as she drew him close. ‘Try to stop me.’
CHAPTER
31
Though the sky was dotted with clouds and a light southerly had risen, flapping shirts and disturbing hats, spring was at last making itself known across the south-east. In a sheltered, fragrant bower of Em’s abundant garden at Rocking Horse Hill, where Jas stood watching Digby return from his pilgrimage, it could have been blissful summer.
If not for a last layer of uncertainty.
Goosebumps skittered along her skin as she stepped back into the breeze. Em broke from her conversation with Josh’s sister Sally to move alongside and join Jas.
Josh and Em had invited close friends and family out to Rocking Horse Hill for a barbecue. To celebrate spring, so the story went, but they weren’t fooling anyone. There was news afoot and the mood was jubilant, despite the breeze.
Josh’s nephews and nieces were wearing off lunch by playing kick-to-kick with their fathers in the grassy area between the house and the donkeys’ paddock. Adrienne and Josh’s mum Michelle, both green fingers and excellent cooks, were wandering around Em’s verdant vegetable patch, comparing notes. Samuel, Tom and Josh were holding an animated discussion about the forthcoming local football grand final, while Harry and Summer were strolling around the orchard, hand in hand. Over near the drinks table, Granny B was holding court with the remaining guests.
Half an hour earlier, Digby had asked if Jas minded him visiting the quarry for a while. What else could she do but swallow her selfish hurt and say it was fine? That horrible dark place was where Felicity had died. Who was she to tread on his need to visit there?
‘He looks happy,’ said Em.
From the way Digby was moving, unhurried and relaxed, it seemed true. ‘I hope he is.’
Em’s gaze was probing. ‘And you?’
Jas smiled. ‘I’m kicking along pretty well.’
More than well, as long as she discounted the twinges of self-doubt and worry that attacked her whenever Digby visited the quarry memorial or Felicity’s grave. Perhaps it would always be this way, sharing half of him with a dead woman. He’d promised he was over her and she had to believe it was true, but the uncertainty remained.
Em took a sip from the glass of water she was holding. ‘You didn’t look it for a moment.’
‘Must have been wind. I blame those lamb and burghul patties your mum made.’
Em laughed. ‘You’re such a terrible liar.’ She sobered again, focus back on Digby as he neared the stables. ‘I know it’s hard but don’t blame him for wanting to talk to her.’
‘I don’t.’ She never had. Communication with Felicity was part of his life, part of his grief, and deserving of respect because it came from the deepest and purest of love.
Josh called out for Em. ‘Oh,’ she said, checking behind, ‘I’m wanted.’ Em touched Jasmine’s arm. ‘Look after Digby for me. This might hurt.’
Jas followed Em’s progress as she made her way through the gathering to her husband. Their embrace was immediate, eyes glittery with smug love. She turned back to Digby, now walking towards her. Jas held out her hand, grateful when he took it without hesitation. Higher up the volcano’s cone, where the quarry’s maw acted as a wind tunnel, the wind would have been biting. His hand was cool but his smile was warm. Even so, Jas searched his face, checking what memories lay there, how close they were to the surface. But Digby appeared fine—flush-cheeked from the southerly but his normal self.
‘Wrap around me,’ she said.
The warmth of his chest settled against her back. His arms enveloped her shoulders, crossing over in front of her. Digby nuzzled his cold nose against her neck and she felt the width of his grin against her collarbone as she tried to jerk away. He gripped tighter, thawing his skin against hers.
Jasmine’s chest swelled. The urge to utter the words neither had said grew inside her. Jas kept her mouth shut and waited for it to pass, as it had on so many other occasions. Now was not the time, not after he’d been to see Felicity.
‘You’re all soft and cosy,’ Digby breathed into her ear.
‘And you’re cold. Fortunately I’m hot enough for both of us.’
‘Don’t I know it.’ With the words he snuck in a tickle of her left breast, shooting tingles into Jasmine’s groin.
‘Do you mind?’
‘No. Can we go? I’ve had enough and I want you alone.’
Jas laughed. ‘So what else is new? You’ll just have to wait.’ She twisted in his arms, expecting to find playfulness. What she discovered was a serious intensity that made her stomach sink. Despite the tickle it wasn’t sex he was after, which could only mean he wanted to talk. Avoiding his eyes, she toyed with the buttons of his jumper. ‘You were gone a long time.’
He shrugged.
She kept fiddling. He was in a mood she didn’t understand, and if Em and Josh announced what she suspected they were going to, Jas wasn’t sure how he’d take it. ‘Was it …’
Was it what? Good? Cathartic? Heartbreaking?
‘It was the same as usual.’
Jas wished she had the courage to ask what the ‘usual’ was. Fear at what he might answer kept her from prying, it was part of the pact she’d made with herself to keep looking forward instead of back. For this to work it was what they both needed to do.
His attention drifted and he grimaced. ‘Trouble coming.’<
br />
Jas turned around. Granny B was heading their way, tumbler of Scotch in one hand, Muffy at her heels. Her outfit was what Jas could only describe as French sailor chic: red and white striped top, navy trousers, tailored cropped jacket, also in red, and a jauntily angled navy beret.
‘Come to tell us your yacht’s leaving?’ Digby asked.
‘Don’t be ill-mannered, Digby.’ Although she said it without rancour. Watching them the entire time, she took a long slurp of Scotch, rolled it round her mouth and swallowed. ‘A pity the wind has come up.’
Jas exchanged a glance with Digby. Granny B was making small talk, which typically meant she was up to something. Both tilted their heads to the side.
Granny B flapped a hand. ‘Oh, do stop that. You look like a pair of owls.’
‘What do you want, Gran?’
The old lady gave a disdainful sniff. ‘Can’t a grandmother talk to her grandson and his girlfriend?’
‘Of course you can,’ said Jas. ‘Once you tell us what you’re up to.’
‘Who says I’m up to anything?’
Jas lifted an eyebrow.
Granny B huffed. ‘If you must know, I enjoyed an excellent lunch with Barry McLintoff on Tuesday.’
Which was hardly news. Granny B and the mayor managed to fit in lunch most weeks. If it weren’t for the that fact that Barry was only ten years or so younger than his lunch companion, Jas might suspect they were indulging in an affair. A man in his late sixties was unlikely to fit Granny B’s penchant for fit young toy boys.
‘You should be very proud of me, Digby.’
‘I should?’
‘Indeed. After much negotiation, I,’ she pronounced the word with a haughty lift of her chin and all the grandeur of an empress, ‘have finally secured a wine festival for our town.’
Jas let out a whoop. ‘You sly old duck. How the hell did you manage that?’
Granny B’s eyes twinkled. ‘Let’s just say I used my charms.’
A groan rumbled through Digby but Jas could only laugh at Granny B’s audacity. Maybe Barry McLintoff was fit enough after all. She leaned across to kiss her on the cheek. ‘Well done.’
