Unforgettable You: Destiny Romance

by Georgina Penney

The movement of his lips on her skin caused Jo to shiver.

  She chuckled, feeling relief wash through her that they weren’t going to do any deep and meaningful stuff right now when she couldn’t handle it. ‘I’ve always been one for clear communication.’ Her throat was sore. How loud had she been?

  ‘Would you mind if we communicated on a larger surface? This couch isn’t doing it for me,’ he complained, hauling himself up onto his forearms.

  Jo winced at the feel of stickiness between her thighs as he began to pull out. ‘How about a shower?’

  ‘Done,’ he said then grinned cheekily. ‘As long as I get the soap.’

  ‘Doesn’t sound fair.’ Jo feigned a frown.

  Stephen glanced leisurely down her body to her bare breasts below her pushed-up T-shirt. ‘Oh, I reckon it is. Besides, if you’re good, I might let you look at my delectable arse.’

  ‘I think we need to talk about this,’ Jo said, eyes crinkling with laughter.

  ‘Well, your communications skills might need some fine-tuning. I could be obliging and help you work on them.’

  When Jo took a playful swing at him, Stephen let out a bark of laughter before quickly withdrawing and sprinting to the shower to the sound of her howl of displeasure.

  ‘Bloody hell! Could you make that hurt any more?’ Jo bellowed from the rug on the battered wooden floor of her sister’s living room a few days later.

  ‘Yep, so shut up or I’ll give you the most accurate vagina Hitler moustache seen since World War Two.’ Amy applied a fresh round of wax to Jo’s bikini line and flattened a linen strip down on it.

  ‘You’re a pocket sadist, you know that?’ Jo lifted her head off the small pillow it was resting on to glare at her sister, who wasn’t looking the least bit repentant.

  ‘Didn’t you read my job description?’ Amy arched one perfect platinum-blonde eyebrow. ‘Hairdresser, barber, beautician and torturer.’ She ripped the linen strip up as she said the latter, causing Jo to howl again. ‘I haven’t checked your job description lately. Does it have “absolute wimp” on it next to “engineer”?’ Amy taunted. ‘You want to do your armpits too?’

  ‘Yeah, why not, and while you’re at it, you can stick a toothpick in my eyeball,’ Jo grouched, inspecting her bright-red and very offended-looking lady bits.

  ‘No one ever said beauty and comfort were the same thing.’ Amy gestured with a spatula dripping with hot wax to Jo’s underarms. ‘Reveal all, or it’ll get rough for ya.’

  ‘As long as you don’t cackle when you rip the hair out this time.’ Jo raised her arm above her head.

  ‘I never cackle. You need a bite stick?’ Amy asked with feigned concern.

  ‘Give me one of your fingers, and I’ll show you a bite stick,’ Jo grumbled.

  Amy had Jo’s underarms bright pink and baby smooth within seconds, and they wandered out the back to Amy’s tree-lined, mossy redbrick courtyard for a cup of tea and a bit of sun. Amy’s small, ancient Fremantle home was only a few minutes’ drive from Jo’s modern apartment, but visiting it felt like travelling back in time a hundred years.

  Situated in the old, convict-built part of Fremantle, the building’s old wooden floors, moulded tin ceilings and 1950s black-and-white kitchen with enamelled red cupboards suited Amy beautifully. As much as it exasperated Jo that Amy never tried to renovate, even the ramshackle outdoor toilet to her left, nicknamed Harvey, added to its charm.

  ‘So are you gonna tell me what’s going on with you?’ Amy asked, pulling up the wide legs of her purple pyjama bottoms to bare her calves to a sunbeam.

  ‘Whaddya mean?’ Jo asked, sliding on a pair of Ray-Bans and resting her head back against the brick wall behind her chair.

  Amy just gave her a look before reaching up to tie her curly blonde hair into a messy topknot. ‘Am I going to have to torture it out of you, or are you going to dish the dirt?’

  ‘I thought the torture just happened.’

  ‘You ain’t seen nothing yet.’

  ‘So where’s the man of the house?’ Jo asked, knowing it would distract her sister.

  Amy scowled. ‘No longer at this residence as of three days ago.’

  ‘Really?’ Jo asked, ripping off her sunglasses and studying Amy intently.

  ‘Really, and no, I don’t want to talk about it,’ Amy said brusquely, brushing an ant off her arm.

  ‘Can I call him an idiot now, at least?’

  ‘Yes, except you never even met him, and this one was my fault.’

  ‘You say that every time,’ Jo grumbled.

  ‘So. About you?’ Amy held up a hand to signal the conversation was going to change track or she’d be cackling a whole lot more during the hair-removal process in the future.

  ‘Well, I do have some news,’ Jo said slowly.

  ‘Spit it out, precious.’

  ‘Stephen and I may have done the horizontal tango. Multiple times and not all of them horizontal.’ Jo sipped her tea to hide her smile.

  There was a stunned silence as Amy stared at her. ‘Come again? When, where and why? You’ve been here what? An hour already, and you tell me now?’

  ‘I was working up to it.’ Jo grinned at Amy’s snort, considered stringing her sister along for a while, and then relented. ‘After the play in Kings Park and because I’d been drinking. Well, the first time at least.’

  ‘Red wine?’

  ‘What else?’ Jo replied dryly. ‘Then . . .’ She shrugged. ‘It just happened from there.’

  ‘Okay. Wow. Just wait. What about his girlfriend?’ Amy frowned. Having been on the receiving end of cheating boyfriends a number of times, she was particularly sensitive on the topic.

  Jo quirked her mouth. ‘He says they were never together together. A friends-with-benefits thing, but if you want to know the truth, I haven’t asked.’

  ‘Jo . . .’ Amy warned.

  ‘I know, I know.’ Jo waved a hand dismissively. ‘If I genuinely thought they had anything going on, I wouldn’t have gone there.’

  ‘What about his ex-girlfriend? Lauren, I think her name was?’ Amy asked, looking a little more concerned.

  Jo frowned. That was something else entirely. After that night in King’s Park Stephen hadn’t brought her up again and Jo hadn’t wanted to ask. Everything felt too new, too fragile, to the point where she still didn’t want to push it. ‘Next topic.’

  Amy pursed her lips. ‘Has he asked about what happened when we were kids?’

  Yet another topic she didn’t want to touch. She knew Stephen blamed himself for what had happened at the Christmas party years ago but knew at the same time that guilt was probably the only thing stopping him from asking difficult questions. It was shitty of her, but she couldn’t let him off the hook and tell him the truth. Too much was at stake—like Amy’s and her mum’s lives.

  She forced a shrug to cover up the queasy feeling the thought had brought on. ‘Not yet. And he won’t if I can help it. It’s in the past, Ames. You know full well what’d happen if Stephen found out about Dad. He’d tell Rob Hardy or his uncle, Les, and they’d fire him. Dad would probably go off the rails and kill Mum. Or, more to the point, you, since you’re the one living in Perth full-time.’ She gestured to Amy with her cup. ‘It’s not gonna happen.’

  ‘So what are you gonna tell him if he asks?’ Amy looked dubious but nodded in agreement with Jo’s reasoning.

  ‘I’ll just confirm what he thinks happened. That we were so embarrassed at the party after the whole thing with Jeff Rousse that we moved to Perth to live with our aunt.’

  ‘What if he asks why you don’t get on with Mum and Dad?’ Amy picked at her pyjama pants, her brow furrowing.

  ‘I’ll just tell him it’s a personality clash and let him believe the whole party thing created a big rift in the family. The story’s worked for us all for fourteen years, Ames. I don’t think we need to change it.’

  ‘Yeah?’ Amy’s frown intensified. ‘What happens if Scott says something assuming you’ve already to
ld Stephen what really happened? Or worse, he’s still got those photos of us after Dad beat us up. What if he shows Stephen?’

  ‘He knows better,’ Jo said darkly, feeling a sharp stab of panic at the thought of Stephen seeing those pictures. ‘Although I’ll say something to him.’

  Amy’s worry was obvious in the way she was rubbing her palm up and down the leg of her pyjamas. It was a nervous tic she’d had since she was a toddler. ‘Jo, you hate George Creek. What happens if Stephen wants you to go down there with him?’

  ‘Funny you should mention that.’ Jo grimaced. ‘We’re driving down to Evangeline’s Rest tomorrow. Stephen needs to talk to his dad and his brother, Clayton about some business deal and asked if I wanted to go along for the drive. I said yes, thinking it’d take the weight off you if I went to see Mum this month instead.’ What she didn’t say was that she needed to check on Shirley to make sure Ken had heeded her warning. If Amy knew her mum had still been Ken’s punching bag for the past few years while she’d been checking on her, she’d feel incredibly guilty, and Jo wanted to spare her that. As it was, Jo was surprised Amy hadn’t picked up on the same stuff she had the last time they’d visited their mum. But then again, Amy had always believed the best of people and if their mum had told her she was fine, Amy would have believed her.

  ‘Let it go, Ames.’

  Amy opened her mouth then closed it again. ‘All right. You happy?’

  Jo relaxed back in her chair, relieved at the change of topic. ‘Yeah. But that’s probably because of some pretty amazing sex. Awesome sex. Brilliant sex.’

  There hadn’t really been any serious conversation as such. Neither Jo nor Stephen had wanted to ruin whatever they had going; but now, sitting in Amy’s backyard and being on the receiving end of her sister’s greasy eyeball, Jo was having doubts. Well, not doubts really. Doubts implied that she’d already made up her mind about something. She was having full-scale indecision.

  ‘You’re just saying it’s great sex because you’ve been that long between men, you probably had cobwebs up your coochie. So. Am I happy for you or am I stocking up on Kleenex?’ Amy asked, eyes serious despite the cheeky smile on her lips.

  ‘Not sure yet.’ Jo avoided eye contact and instead studied her fingers wrapped around her blue-and-white-striped mug half-full of tea. ‘I’m off to work again in a few more days. You know how it usually goes. They’re sweetness and light when I leave, and they’re not around when I get back.’ It took a massive effort to say the words casually without choking. The last week had been earth-shaking for Jo, and the thought of Stephen not being here when she came home from work the next time felt like a knife in the gut.

  ‘Yeah. Except this time the guy is staying in your house. Don’t get me wrong. I love Stephen. I wouldn’t have suggested he house-sit if I didn’t, but I didn’t think this would happen.’

  Jo gave her sister a disbelieving look.

  ‘All right, so I hoped something would happen, knowing how much you used to like him, but I didn’t think it would happen,’ Amy clarified, apple cheeks turning red. ‘Look, petal, you better not blame me if this goes south.’

  ‘Chill out. After the last time, we learned our lesson, didn’t we?’ she said, referring to the time they’d fought over Amy dumping her ex-boyfriend—and Jo’s friend, Liam—years before.

  ‘Yeah, we did.’ Amy fidgeted and gave Jo an expectant look. ‘Scott know?’

  Jo shook her head. ‘Nope. Haven’t gotten around to it yet. He’ll probably gloat, though.’

  Amy grinned. ‘He’ll be painful.’

  Chapter 9

  Stephen smoothly manoeuvred his Lexus through the morning peak-hour traffic clogging the Kwinana Freeway heading south of Perth, all the while sneaking surreptitious glances at Jo. They hadn’t said much to each other about today’s trip, other than agreeing on a time to leave. Every time he’d tried to bring it up, Jo had changed the topic. Well, if you call pushing a man flat on his back and pleasurably assaulting him changing the topic.

  He was getting restless. He wanted to ask her about what had happened years ago but was stopped every time by a wave of dread at the thought of hearing in detail just how much he’d screwed up her life.

  When Scott had approached Stephen about the whole cat-sitting thing, Stephen had been surprised and pretty damn shocked. He still couldn’t quite believe all this had panned out the way it had. Hell, he still didn’t know if Scott and Jo had ever been an item. That night he’d seen Jo and Scott at the dam when they were all kids, Jo had been nearly naked in a ratty old sports bra and shorts that had almost fallen down as she’d roughhoused with Scott. Stephen could still remember the jealousy he’d felt over his younger cousin getting with such a hot girl. When he’d worked out that girl was Jo, half the reason he’d been so pissed off was that he’d never really paid attention to her other than telling the odd bully to back off.

  And today he was acutely aware that he hardly knew anything about Jo’s childhood, even though they’d grown up only a walk away from each other. Jo hadn’t really talked about her parents once in the past few months and had gone tight-lipped whenever he’d brought up Shirley and Ken. It was all pretty incomprehensible to Stephen. As much as his family drove him insane at times, they were close, really close. He couldn’t imagine not being happy to talk about them if given the chance.

  He would have asked a whole lot of questions if it hadn’t been for Jo’s reserve and the warning Scott had given him not to bring up the past when he’d first told Stephen about Amy Blaine’s barber salon years back. Stephen was beginning to think that as uncomfortable as it might be, it was going to be time to bring up the topic soon. There was too much he didn’t know and wanted to ask about Jo’s history, and it seemed like talking about her family was a good place to start.

  ‘Everything all right over there?’ he asked, peering sideways at Jo’s tense expression. She was jerkily picking at a frayed patch in the leg of her jeans, staring out the window.

  ‘Jo?’ He tried again, voice a bit louder this time.

  ‘Yeah?’ She looked at him, deep-brown eyes unfocused. They had dark circles under them as if she hadn’t slept.

  ‘Did you hear me?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I asked if you were okay.’

  She looked at him blankly again before visibly descending to earth from whatever planet she’d been orbiting. ‘Yeah. Yeah, sorry.’

  ‘Heavy thoughts?’ He looked in his rearview and side mirrors before changing lanes and speeding up to the limit now that the traffic had lessened.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Want to talk about it?’ He accelerated the car past a large furniture-removal truck. They were well on their way but were still driving through the painfully boring endless suburbia that characterised the south of the city. He was looking forward to seeing some proper bush and countryside, but that wouldn’t be for another hour or so.

  ‘What was that call you took last night?’ Jo asked in a distant voice, not answering his question.

  Stephen wrinkled his brow, mentally changing gears. ‘You mean the prank caller? He calls every now and then round six at night. It’s probably just a wrong number or some weird problem with the phone lines. Or a telemarketer who’s really bad at their job, come to think of it, given the fact they always call around the same time. Why?’

  She didn’t say anything for around ten minutes, and Stephen forced himself to wait her out, feeling a growing sense of frustration and unease.

  ‘When did the calls start?’ she asked eventually.

  ‘I don’t know. Around two or so months ago, I think.’

  ‘So around the time I was in town last?’

  ‘Yeah. Yeah, probably. Sounds about right.’

  ‘They ever said anything? You ever heard anything in the background?’

  ‘No. Usually I answer, and the minute they hear my voice, they hang up. This isn’t related to that psycho call you got that night you came back from visiting your p
arents a few months ago, is it?’ He looked at her, feeling every muscle in his body tense, ready for war.

  Jo glanced out the window again. ‘Nah . . . that was just some guy from work pissed off with me. I was just curious and making conversation. Nothing to worry about.’ She turned and gently rested her hand on his thigh. ‘Sorry for being a moody bitch. I’m a bit distracted this morning. Have I thanked you for the ride?’

  He felt disoriented at the shift in mood, debating whether or not to push the topic and ask a lot more questions and then deciding they could wait for now. ‘Not yet. Shouldn’t I be thanking you for keeping me company?’

  ‘I might be up for accepting your most gracious appreciation,’ she said, and for the first time that morning he saw a bit of colour come into her cheeks as she smiled and waggled her brows.

  He let out a surprised burst of laughter. ‘That’ll have to wait till later. Bit hard to show my appreciation properly while I’m driving.’

  They spent the rest of the trip talking about their favourite music and movies. Jo liked alternative rock, Stephen liked a more chilled-out club sound. Jo loved indie films, but it turned out they both had a guilty soft spot for Adam Sandler and British gangster flicks.

  The light atmosphere lasted until they reached the outskirts of George Creek, and then for some reason Jo clammed up again.

  ‘You sure you want to go and see your parents first instead of stopping off for some breakfast?’ Stephen asked, noticing Jo’s tense expression.

  ‘Yeah, just take me straight to Mum and Dad’s.’ Jo’s mouth narrowed into a thin line. ‘You don’t have to wait for me. I’ll walk over and meet you at the house in an hour or so.’

  ‘Sure?’ Stephen asked, not comfortable with that arrangement, preferring to come and pick her up, but knowing enough about Jo by now to realise any argument wouldn’t be welcome.

  ‘Yep.’ She fell into the same tense, distracted silence that had characterized the first part of their drive as they pulled through town towards the Hardy family’s property.

  They turned down the rutted old dirt driveway leading up to the Blaine place, and Stephen saw Jo’s knuckles turn white as she gripped her knees. Ken Blaine’s old Hilux was parked out the front of her parents’ ramshackle house.