‘Sorry.’
‘Yeah, we just did that. Come here.’ He hauled her into a warm hug that was much gentler this time. ‘No more secrets,’ he said against her hair.
‘No.’
The first raindrops came down, quickly turning into a deluge, drenching them completely. Grabbing Jo’s hand and running for the nearby trees, he began cursing and didn’t stop. The entire time they ran, he roared his views on the weather, Jo’s choice of location and the world at large in such theatrical terms. She started belly-laughing, tripping over her own feet twice before she slumped against the trunk of the old peppermint tree she and Amy had stood under years before, watching Stephen from afar.
‘You all right there?’ Stephen asked, half crouched in front of her, hands on hips, looking like a bedraggled avenging angel. ‘You enjoying laughing at my expense?’
‘Yep,’ Jo squeaked out before launching into another round of chuckles.
‘It’s all right for you. Some of us have to worry about chafing,’ Stephen muttered, shoving her over and sitting down next to her.
‘Went commando this morning, did you?’ Jo asked, wiping tears out of her eyes.
‘Might have.’
‘We’ll need a splint for your man bits by the time you walk back home in those wet jeans,’ Jo said with a deliberately straight face.
Stephen snorted and looked down his nose at her, the effect slightly ruined by the water dripping off the end of it. ‘You want to insult me some more? Take another chunk out of me? Anything else you’d like to say?’
‘No.’ Jo pressed her lips together to suppress her grin. ‘Well, maybe.’ She paused for dramatic effect, enjoying the way his eyes narrowed.
‘What?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Bullshit,’ Stephen scoffed. ‘Don’t make me get it out of you. If I remember rightly, you’re ticklish as anything.’
‘No!’ Jo exclaimed and scuttled on her backside away from him, inadvertently knocking a branch, causing it to drop its entire store of frigid raindrops on her head.
It was Stephen’s turn to laugh this time, and he only stopped when Jo pounced on him, wrestling him onto his back so that he was lying beneath her, a wide grin on his face, head cushioned on his hands.
Jo looked down at him, her humour evaporating as the memory of her earlier worry about his safety resurfaced. ‘You scared the hell out of me, you know.’
‘You should’ve known better.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Want to tell me about your parents and stuff now?’ he asked quietly. ‘Looks like we’re going to be stuck here a bit.’
Jo thought hard about it for a moment then shook her head. ‘No. It’s not important any more. Do you want to know?’
Stephen studied her expression and then smiled a sweet smile that had her insides melting. ‘No. It’s not important if you don’t think it is.’
‘You want to tell me why you came down here in such a hurry that you forgot your undies today?’ she asked him.
He shrugged, causing his body to rub against hers in a very interesting way indeed. ‘You really want to know?’
‘I think I do already,’ Jo said, remembering his interrupted comment about making sure her parents left. ‘Thanks.’
‘Welcome.’ He gently stroked her cheek with his hand then cleared his throat. ‘Anyway. You were saying something the other day about how great you thought I was. Care to expand on it?’ He raised an eyebrow, obviously going for a playful expression, but the vulnerability in his blue eyes gave him away.
Jo shrugged. ‘You’re all right.’
His expression turned outraged. ‘That’s all? All right? What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Means you’re all right. If I told you that I’m madly in love with you, it’d give you a big head, wouldn’t it?’
His face relaxed into a smug smile. ‘Might do.’
‘So do you have anything to say to me?’ She wriggled on him with impatience.
He looked thoughtful for a while, just long enough for her to want to thump him, before he said, ‘You’re all right.’
‘What?’ Jo shouted, rearing back, offended to the core. ‘All right?’
‘Well, if I told you I thought you were the most amazing woman I’d ever met and that I love you from your scruffy head to your stubby toes, you’d get all neurotic and clingy on me, wouldn’t you?’
‘Maybe. Take back the clingy bit, though.’
‘Done.’ They shared a wide smile.
‘So. Now that’s out of the way . . .’ Stephen began shifting suggestively underneath her before wincing and pulling a stick out from behind his back. ‘What are we going to do until this rain goes away?’ He waggled his eyebrows.
‘Well, I thought I’d teach you the finer points of chemical engineering, to tell you the truth, since you want to know everything about my past,’ Jo began deadpan, then he rolled her onto her back and she shrieked, the sound of the pouring rain muffling her laughter as Stephen began showing her a much more interesting way to pass the time.
There’d be time for serious talk and planning later. Today she was just happy finally to be home.
Epilogue
‘Who eats curried eggs any more, Mum?’ Rob Hardy complained over the roar of the fifty or so guests milling around his back porch, drinking wine and generally making a nuisance of themselves.
‘Everyone but you, ungrateful child.’ Angie Hardy cuffed Rob on the head as she walked back into the house to collect the rest of the dishes they’d prepared for their annual Christmas party, her long white hair swooshing against her back.
‘Did you see that? Did you see how your grandma treats me, kids? Bloody criminal. I’m an abused child. Did you hear that, Angie? Abused child!’ Rob exclaimed at his mother’s retreating back.
‘You’ll be a sight more abused in a minute if she comes back out here with that wooden spoon of hers, Dad,’ Mike said from the other side of the table. ‘Not that it’d matter. You’ve got such a thick head, you wouldn’t notice.’
‘Don’t you start or you can go straight back to England,’ Rob grumbled, emptying half a bottle of shiraz into a bulbous wine glass before offering the other half to Jo, who was sitting across the table, feet up on Stephen’s lap, enjoying the show. ‘Want some, Jo? These ingrates I spawned wouldn’t appreciate the effort I put into producing such a good drop.’
‘She’s had enough, Dad. I want her to be compos mentis when I bring out her Christmas present later.’ Stephen wagged a finger at him.
‘Keep it in your pants.’ Mike batted Stephen on the head.
‘Could say the same to you,’ Stephen scoffed right back. ‘Considering what I saw you and that chick you brought along tonight doing in the kitchen earlier . . .’
‘Oi.’ Jo narrowed her eyes. ‘Chick? I might need to borrow that wooden spoon off Angie myself.’
‘If you’re planning on beating him, can we watch?’ Rachael asked. She’d dropped by the party from the restaurant and was wearing chef’s whites, her wildly curling brown hair pulled back into a tight bun.
‘No, it’ll be a strictly private show,’ Stephen said, leaning over to give Jo a particularly lascivious kiss for his family’s benefit. He was rewarded with an off-key chorus of groans.
‘Anyway,’ Rachael interjected loudly. ‘Scott here yet? He said he wanted me here for a family photo.’
‘Just called,’ Stephen said. ‘He’ll be here in a few minutes. Apparently between Amy and Aunty Corrine he got held up. Something about one of them trying to find the right shoes.’
‘That’ll be Amy,’ Jo said. ‘She bought a bunch of new pairs after she broke up with Dwayne.’
‘Darren,’ Stephen corrected.
‘I disagree about it being Amy, cute little thing she is,’ Rob countered over the top of Stephen. His voice was distinctly slurred. ‘Corrine’s always been a pain in the arse about shoes. Used to drive me and Les mental when we were all kids. Hey. Where’s Clayton? He shoul
d be here by now.’
‘He was grabbing more beer from town, Dad,’ Rachael said. ‘Jeff’s with him for moral support.’ The waspish tone in her voice when she mentioned Jeff’s name didn’t go unnoticed.
‘Knickers in a knot, Rach?’ Mike asked.
‘You were going home when?’ Rachael countered.
‘What’s this about the luscious Amy being available again?’ Mike asked the table in general, ignoring Rachael and earning himself a dirty look from both Jo and Stephen.
‘Don’t go there,’ Jo warned. ‘She broke up with her latest boyfriend last week, and she doesn’t need you on the rebound. Besides, you brought someone along. Bit of a bastard, aren’t you?’
‘Harsh,’ Mike said, feigning hurt.
‘Accurate,’ Stephen said.
‘Here’s to that.’ Rob drained half his glass.
‘Welcome to the family,’ Stephen whispered in Jo’s ear as Rachael and Mike began arguing again. ‘And you were worried your lot was nuts. In fact, I’m pretty sure you’re going to thank me for ruining the last time you were at one of these parties. You missed the insanity.’
‘Shaddup.’ Jo grasped his chin in her hand and scrunched up his mouth so he couldn’t talk. ‘I happen to like your family.’
‘I’d rather you liked me more,’ he growled. ‘How about we slip away for a few minutes so I can give you your Christmas present.’
Jo looked around furtively. ‘You think we could?’
Stephen didn’t need any more encouragement than that. Pushing back his chair, he grabbed her hand and tugged her to her feet before propelling her into the house and through his bedroom door, shutting it and checking to make sure it was locked.
‘It’s that kind of present, is it?’ Jo asked, eyes twinkling as she began to pull her shirt over her head.
Stephen took in the lacy mint-green bra she revealed with an appreciative smile. ‘Well, it wasn’t until now.’ He stepped towards her, pulling the small box he’d been carrying around with him for days out of his back pocket. He hoped the ring would fit. More than that, he hoped Jo would say yes. He’d just begun to get down on bended knee, enjoying the way Jo’s deep-brown eyes widened in surprise, when someone banged on his bedroom door.
‘WHAT?’ Stephen thundered with such frustration in his voice that Jo started laughing like a loon.
‘Scott’s here, so is Clayton. You’re both wanted for a photo,’ Rachael called through the door. ‘Make sure you’re both buttoned and zipped, children.’
‘I’m going to murder her in her sleep tonight.’ Stephen groaned as he watched Jo pull her shirt back on. She was still chuckling as he surreptitiously slipped the box back into his pocket.
‘It’s not like I’m going anywhere,’ she said with a huge smile on her face before she unlocked the bedroom door and swung it open.
Sure enough Scott, Amy and Clayton were standing in the kitchen staring in amazement as Jeff Rousse made a valiant effort to offend Rachael. For her part, Rachael looked as if she wanted to murder him.
‘You better not be going anywhere,’ Stephen rumbled in Jo’s ear as he pulled her back against him, enjoying the brief moment before his family descended upon them with their brand of chaos.
Jo leaned against the man behind her, enjoying the feel of his arms wrapped around her waist, and took in the noisy scene in front of her. These were all people she loved and cared for—well, with the exception of Jeff, whom she tolerated. She’d be spending a lot of time around them over the next few years while she and Stephen began designing and overseeing the building of a microbrewery on the site of her parents’ old house. They’d no doubt exasperate her and drive her crazy, Stephen more than anyone else. She couldn’t wait.
‘Yes.’ She leaned back and whispered into his ear, ‘But I’m not wearing a dress.’
Stephen’s shout of joy drew everyone’s attention, and they all laughed as he grabbed Jo’s hand, pulled her back into his bedroom, and slammed the door.
Chapter 1
‘What do you think her deal is?’ Alex Crane asked over the heavy roar of rain on the awning of the The Norfolk pub’s beer garden.
Ben Martindale toyed with the packet of Gitanes he’d just placed on the ale-polished table while covertly studying the lady in question.
She appeared to be the end product of an improbable romantic liaison between a Kewpie doll and a fifties Barbie. Her artfully curled platinum hair was pulled into a high ponytail that framed apple-cheeked features, and her rather delectable little body was decked out in a red and white polka-dot dress cinched at the waist, red cardigan and black patent leather heels. In the dimly lit surrounds, she stood out like a rare bird of paradise lost in a penguin exhibit.
If Ben and Alex had been prudent men, they’d have taken all that red as one of nature’s warning signals, but Ben had always been fascinated by things that didn’t quite fit – in fact, he’d made it his business–and Alex . . . well, Alex was full to the brim of that unique blind optimism possessed by a certain brand of Yank who travels abroad. As far as Ben knew, there was no known cure.
‘Actress? She’s certainly gained herself an audience,’ Ben replied in clipped British tones. He poured himself a glass of a passable Cabernet Sauvignon, inhaling its earthy aroma, and leaned a little further back in his chair, projecting the boneless placidity of a big cat at rest.
‘The sailors?’ Alex looked around the outdoor bar, which was currently infested with an entire battleship’s worth of American sailors on shore leave, some in uniform, some in civvies–all on the prowl. Or as on the prowl as they could be clustered around a bevy of upright outdoor heaters spaced at random. Over the past hour or so, Ben and Alex had watched as they’d approached the lady in packs of twos or threes. Without fail, they’d all been given a double-dimpled smile designed to charm before being sent on their merry way.
‘Mmm hmm.’ Ben took another sip of wine.
Alex frowned. ‘No, man. If she was an actress she’d be playing it up more.’
‘I wouldn’t be so sure. She’s certainly entertaining. By the way, if you’re thinking of going over there, just remember, Australian women are a tougher breed than the sensitive plants you’re used to. You’re getting yourself to the hospital if she beats you to a pulp. I prefer my car seats free of blood spatter.’ Ben’s bare-knuckle-boxer’s features momentarily took on the menacing aspect the British tabloids had frequently remarked upon of late.
Alex chuckled, his liquid-gold voice almost, but not quite, drowning out the rain. ‘Why would she do that? I love Aussie women. They love me too.’
‘I know. Too much. Have I told you how little sleep I managed last night thanks to your stellar full-volume performance with . . . Susan?’
‘Sarah.’
Ben waved a hand dismissively. ‘Forgive me. Sarah. When I said mi casa es tu casa, I didn’t mean you and whatever banshee you pick up after your show. And I certainly didn’t request the encore performance, either.’
Alex shrugged unapologetically. ‘Is it my fault you bought a place with amazing acoustics?’ He narrowed his eyes at the cigarette Ben had just tapped out of the packet and lit. ‘Put that out or you’re a dead man. They screw with my vocal cords.’
‘I know,’ Ben said with a wicked grin, but stubbed his cigarette out on the bottom of his brown Italian loafer without taking a puff. He’d quit seven months ago and only carried the French cigarettes around out of habit. They were long past stale. He’d throw them out one of these days. Not yet, but one of these days.
‘You coming tomorrow?’ Alex asked, casually belying the fact he was referring to a sell-out performance of Pagliacci. Opera Australia had paid an obscene amount to lure him across the Pacific to play the lead, Canio, and they were getting their money’s worth if last night’s packed house was any indication. Alex possessed the heady combination of pretty-boy Filipino–American features, a golden voice and the grace of Astaire. He was the opposite of Ben, who couldn’t sing for shit, had the feat
ures of a hardened criminal and used his tongue to wield words like weapons, usually for comic effect but sometimes for the hell of it.
‘Of course. How else will I be able to tell you what you did wrong?’ Ben’s smirk transformed to a scowl as Alex levelled a punch at his shoulder. ‘Bastard. That’s my writing arm you know.’
‘You don’t need it.’
‘I bloody well do.’
‘Just phone your column in.’
‘How about you phone your performance in tomorrow? Oh, wait, you always do,’ Ben shot back, only to see his friend hadn’t caught the dig. Instead, Alex’s attention had been snared by the little blonde again.
Ben sighed. ‘Can you be a little more obvious? You’re looking at her like she’s a postman’s leg and you’re an amorous Labrador. Down, Fido.’
Alex ignored him, his expression turning thoughtful. ‘You know . . . I’m gonna go for it.’
‘At your own risk. What do you think you’re going to achieve? Well, other than being thoroughly humiliated when she sends you packing?’ He returned his gaze to the lady who was currently peering at a small handheld mirror and wielding a tube of lipstick with the precision of a Dutch master. He had to admit he was just as intrigued as his friend was. His fingers twitched in the way they always did when he sensed a good story about to unfold. ‘And please make this amusing. I do have a word count to fill for next week.’
Alex ignored him, his brow creased in a frown. He was obviously working out what he was going to say to impress the lady, which was both ridiculous and rather endearing. Given Alex’s appearance, success and celebrity, he should have had all the confidence in the world; still, he remained stubbornly oblivious to his own appeal. Ben, on the other hand, knew he could be a charming bastard when he wanted to be and rarely questioned his attractiveness to the opposite sex.
‘Watch and learn.’ Alex pushed back his chair, then sauntered with painstakingly deliberate nonchalance over to the woman’s table.
Unforgettable You: Destiny Romance Page 29
