He wanted—needed—to give her back what she needed most. Her sense of self.
To do so required patience; allowing her time to consider her choices. If—when—she wanted to resume their relationship for the right reasons, he’d be ready, willing and more than able. Not until then, though. Mutual gratification was a great reason for sex, no question. He’d lived happily enough by that creed for the last several years without need for further involvement. But things would never be as simple as that with this woman. Gem was special. And he wouldn’t settle for anything less than all of her, not just her body.
Of course he couldn’t ignore the fact that she came with a son. Drew. The reality of her having a child had come as a shock, but only because he’d never thought about it. Children had never figured in his life to this point. What sort of a father would he be? Better than Roger Devane, that was for sure, and hopefully as unconditionally loving and supportive as Harry. Time would tell.
His eyes strayed back to Gem, dirt raining around as she chipped away at the wall. She had more of a casual rhythm to her movements than the dedicated sense of purpose an opal miner needed, but then this was no more than a novelty to her, not the way of life it was to him.
A deep pity for her swept through him. Gem had never been a risk-taker. She’d never know the rush of adrenaline that accompanied success at winning a gamble, the elation that came with carrying off the all-too-elusive opal lottery prize.
Maybe he could do something about that. Reaching into the backpack at his feet he withdrew a specimen jar and selected a small opalised shell. With his back to her, he nestled it into the softness of the wall facing him.
‘Time to stretch your legs.’ He held up a bottle of water. ‘Drink?’
She looked up with a smile, seemingly grateful for the excuse to rest. He couldn’t blame her. They’d been down here for a couple of hours now and digging with a pick was backbreaking. She stumbled through the mullock piles on the tunnel floor over to where he sat, took the bottle and downed a mouthful.
‘Thirsty work.’ She wiped her lips with the back of a dirty hand then swiped at some clay on her cheek, only succeeding in making herself even dirtier. She still looked gorgeous.
‘Had enough?’
Her response was immediate. ‘No way.’
He studied her face. Blue-jewelled eyes glittered back at him, alive with enthusiasm. He loved seeing her fired up like this, could sense the excitement all over her. This was the Gem he adored: confident, full of life. The big smile she gave him just about lit the Ballroom and made him feel ridiculously happy.
‘There’s something about this.’ Her eyes narrowed in thought. ‘I’m beginning to see what you meant when you said it lures you in. I keep thinking I’m going to find an opal any second.’
He almost laughed out loud. He identified so much with those sentiments; they’d kept him going through some pretty lean times over the last few years.
‘Yep, and finding one intensifies the anticipation, to the point where the most important thing in life is the adrenaline rush.’
She regarded him with sceptical eyebrows and a defiant chin. ‘Not me. I’m way too level-headed.’
‘Never say never. Opal fever’s notoriously contagious.’
The moue she made with her beautiful mouth left no doubt of her cynicism. Suddenly he couldn’t wait any longer to see her reaction.
He pointed with his pick. ‘That fault in the wall is what you should be looking for.’
Gemma directed the beam on her hard hat at the fault-line. She’d seen nothing similar where she’d been working. ‘Mind if I dig here?’
Jamie grinned. ‘Be my guest.’
* * *
Jamie inched out of her way and Gemma squatted in his place, ready for another onslaught at the wall. In the confined space her calves and knees burned and her arms ached from wielding the pick, but the act of digging itself was totally absorbing. With each chip at the surface she expected to hear what he’d told her to listen for.
The rhythm became automatic, lulling her into a review of the peaceful interlude today had provided. As if by mutual consent they’d spent the time in companionable silence interspersed with small talk that had her laughing at Jamie’s quips. She’d enjoyed the reminder of how much he could make her laugh, both with his wit and at his own rich bellow of a laugh. She smiled to herself.
Then she heard it.
Chink-chink.
The slight sound echoed down the quiet of the tunnel. She gave an involuntary squeal and, fingers trembling, gouged the nobby from the clay to weigh it in her hand as he’d shown her. Excitement raced along her limbs; the hair on the back of her neck tingled. The clod felt heavy. She turned it over, heart in her mouth, searching out a flash of colour.
And there it was.
The sight stole her breath. Trapped within the shell, a riot of dancing colours came leaping out at the play of light from the torch on her hat. Exhilarating chills ran through her body.
‘Look!’ She squealed, holding out the treasure for inspection.
Jamie picked up the nobby, gave a lick and put it up to the light. Pinpricks of fire flashed as he angled it in different directions.
‘It’s a little beauty,’ he said, handing it back.
She grabbed the shell, flung her arms around him and attempted to jump up and down in the tiny space. ‘Isn’t it? My god, it’s—it’s exquisite. I can’t believe ... oh wow, this is so exciting.’ She was babbling and bursting with pride.
‘That’s the way it should be.’ Jamie had the sexiest laugh.
She grinned back at him, a glow of pleasure burning deep inside.
‘Uh oh,’ he warned. ‘You’ve caught it.’
‘Caught what?’ One hand lay against her chest, attempting to slow the wild thumping.
‘Opal fever.’ He nodded knowingly. ‘Eyes glittering. Flushed face. Heart pounding. You’re a lost cause.’
Because he couldn’t stand upright their faces were very close. She looked him directly in the eyes, one of which had bruised up overnight. ‘Is it fatal?’ she asked with a laugh.
‘’Fraid so.’ He grinned. ‘Once the fever hits your bloodstream, you’ll never get rid of it.’
‘Oh no, you mean this euphoria will last forever?’
‘That’ll wear off—eventually—but you’re gonna need regular fixes from now on in.’
‘Not me,’ she assured him. ‘Nobody wins the lottery twice.’
‘I did.’
There was no counter to that. She knew he had; finding enough opal to afford a down payment on the motel, and later discovering Gracie.
‘Point taken,’ she conceded, even while her mind baulked at the idea of gambling proving to be profitable. ‘I’m not a risk-taker like you. I have no time for people who put their trust in taking chances. My parents’ inheritance went to supporting Roger’s addiction.’
Against her will a memory flashed, sharp and wounding as a knife thrust, of Roger’s baleful stare as he poked her in the chest with one finger, furious at being questioned over where the money had gone. Would the way he’d deceived her—no, the way she’d allowed herself to be deceived—continue to haunt her forever?
Jamie shook his head. ‘The guy just continues to impress.’ He lowered his chin and glanced sideways at her. ‘Why did you marry him so soon after we broke up?’
The out-of-the-blue question threw her. ‘I—I ... I told you. He helped me through a bad time. I owed him and, um ... well, we had things in common.’ She had to defend her choice; admitting she was wrong had never come easy to her and the implications of confessing the whole truth were too far-reaching.
‘Like?’
Unease fluttered her stomach. The oversharing of last night was coming back to bite her, forcing her to face questions she didn’t want to think about, let alone answer.
‘Like our careers. For the first year or so he still worked for the museum and continued to teach at the uni. And we also had our ... we h
ad Drew. And to be honest, it didn’t start off bad. We were ... happy. For a while, anyway.’
His dark-eyed gaze made her feel naked. ‘Did you love him?’
No. I loved you, but you left me. How was I to know you had come back?
She forced an indignant laugh. ‘Would I have married him if I didn’t?’ This was getting way too personal now, razoring her nerves. Their earlier companionship seemed to have dissolved and she couldn’t hide her growing agitation. ‘What’s with the third degree? You know all you need to know about my failed marriage.’
For a moment his dark eyes measured her. ‘All right. What would you like to talk about?’
Her eyes lit on the opalised shape in her palm. ‘This beautiful thing.’
He captured her hand and examined the shell. ‘Good call. You know, you’ll probably get a couple of hundred for this.’
In the seconds after he uttered those words, Gem’s heart contracted to a hard ball in her chest. Was that the bottom line for everything? Money?
Jamie’s actions last night had led her to believe the Jamie of old, the man of integrity, still existed. But obviously worship at the altar of the dollar was a way of life for him, the same way it had been for Roger. Why hadn’t she spotted the similarities sooner?
‘Why would I want to sell this?’ she said coldly.
‘What else would you do with it?’ He shrugged his broad shoulders as if the possibility of any other choice eluded him.
‘How about keep it for the sheer pleasure of owning it?’ She flung the words at him, wrenching the hand holding the shell from his grip, knowing she was overreacting but unable to conceal her irritation. Reminders of her ex and the marriage-gone-wrong had set a bitter bubble of resentment rising inside.
Jamie didn’t speak, but instead rubbed at the side of his shadowed jaw, clearly having difficulty with what she’d said. A dark frown settled on his face and his eyes, ocean-blue eyes that had once promised so much honesty, turned cloudy and unfathomable. Then, hitting the heel of his hand to his forehead, he had the audacity to smile at her.
‘Of course you want to keep your first find.’ He gave a self-deprecating snort. ‘I remember feeling the same way.’ His hands came to rest on her shoulders.
‘Do you?’ She shrugged herself free of his touch and folded her arms in front. ‘Hard to believe, given your obsession with money.’
He dropped his hands as if struck and took a step back, every line in his strong features rejecting what she’d said. ‘You know that’s not what I’m about.’
She couldn’t seem to control herself and let go a grunt of disbelief. ‘So selling off our national heritage to the highest bidder has nothing to do with being money-hungry?’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, please!’
‘Let’s not say things we’ll regret later.’
The placatory manner infuriated her further; Jamie had no way of knowing his words echoed Roger’s unctuous efforts to pacify after insulting and berating her, but that made no difference. Lost in self-pity, she couldn’t help herself. ‘Why do I waste my time trying to jar your conscience?’ she spat out.
That did it.
‘How the hell would you know anything about the way I think and feel?’ he demanded through clenched teeth. ‘Just because you think you’re right doesn’t make it so, Princess.’
‘How dare you call me names when you’re nothing but a—a—an opportunist.’
He took a menacing step towards her, eyebrows lowered, face set in sharp lines. ‘If you knew the whole story you’d—’ He slammed an upright piece of shoring timber so hard with his open palm that it shifted slightly. Earth trickled from the roof immediately above their heads, showering them with dirt. Small particles penetrated her eyelashes and she couldn’t open her eyes.
In the fraction of a second it took to wipe away the dust she felt herself shoved hard. She tripped backwards and everything happened at once: a strange smell permeated the air, and a loud whooshing sound echoed right through her followed by a terrifying rumble.
‘Get up!’ Jamie bellowed, frantic. ‘Run!’
Then the roof collapsed.
Chapter 10
Jamie lay flat on his back, gulping for air, desperate to make his lungs work. Grit clung to his tongue and clotted his eyelashes. What the ... ? How long had he been out? And where the hell was Gem? He struggled to a sitting position, coughing up dirt. When he’d unclogged his eyes he straightened the lamp on his hard hat and began a frantic search through the almost impenetrable gloom created by the flurry of stirred-up dust.
Gem’s body lay sprawled beneath a layer of rubble. ‘Oh god!’ Panic gripped. ‘No!’
On wobbly, unsure legs he made his way over and grabbed an ice-cold hand. A pulse, thank god. He threw himself down, ear to her mouth. Breathing, shallow but steady.
He gave a gentle shake. ‘Gem?’
Her eyelids fluttered slightly but remained closed.
‘Gem?’ he demanded, his voice hoarse with fear. ‘Oh god, what’ve I done?’
Instead of protecting her from danger, as he’d been desperate to do when he realised what was happening, he’d pushed her right under the collapse. He looked up and trained the torch onto the roof of the Ballroom; small pieces of rock and dirt continued to trickle down but appeared to be slowing. Then he lowered his gaze and took in the fall itself; a wall of earth blocking the passage.
Shit!
The emotions squeezing his chest swung between fury with himself and fear for Gem. He’d always been a man in charge of his feelings, but this ... ? This was a mess of his creation, and it was way beyond his capability to distance himself from it.
He stared down at her, so tiny and fragile laying there, her cheeks deathly pale, and his gut plummeted. He had to do something. Shoving his churned-up emotions to one side, he forced his mind into accident emergency mode.
After a quick assessment to ensure that touching her wouldn’t result in injuring her further, he tossed away her hard hat with its shattered headlamp. Taking care to support her neck, he smoothed the matted blonde hair back from the side of her face and wiped the dust from her eyes with the edge of his t-shirt.
‘Wake up. Come on, wake up,’ he urged, lips pressed to her forehead.
Her fingers twitched in his hand. Immediately he set about freeing her body from the debris, ignoring the pain throbbing through his head. Earth and dust flew in every direction, up his nose, into his mouth, making him cough as he worked frenziedly, unwilling to stop until he’d cleared the weight from her legs. Then, with infinite care, he tested each limb for any breaks. Thankfully everything seemed intact.
He expelled a long breath and, having done all he could for the moment, sat back against the wall with her nestled her in his arms and turned off his headlamp. With the other torch broken, conserving power had to be a priority. Gem hated the dark; she’d once told him about being accidentally locked in an abandoned fridge while playing hide-and-seek at a friend’s place. It had left her with a morbid fear of darkness. He had to ensure they had enough light to last until they were rescued, which wouldn’t be too long, hopefully. Sound travelled far less underground than it did above ground, but Harry had to at least have felt the tremor.
He stared ahead with unseeing eyes, holding her body against his chest, muttering words of comfort and willing a sound—any sound, even anger—from her. Miserably aware of the accusation in her eyes in the seconds before the cave-in, he struggled once again for control.
Gem hated him for what he intended to do with Gracie. And he ... he loved her. Had always loved her; had spent the last seven years fooling around with pale imitations of her. What an idiot he’d been to ever let her go. If—no, when—she woke up, he’d tell her that. Once she understood his reasons for needing the money, maybe she’d be able to find it in herself to care for him again, too. They could start over and—
Her soft moan hit his solar plexus with the force of one of Slade’s punches.
He felt his face crumple.
She was going to be okay.
* * *
Gem’s head was pounding, granules of dirt gritted between her teeth, and her throat was dust dry. Jamie was speaking to her from somewhere far away, which was weird because she would have sworn they were his arms around her, hugging all the breath from her body. She groaned again, forcing open her eyelids.
Black.
Instinct took control and her eyes squeezed shut against the dread spiralling from deep inside, that primitive fear of not being able to see what the darkness might conceal. The horror of the thought of never-ending night.
Lips moved against her cheek. ‘Thank god.’ The voice was a fervent whisper.
A blinding pain shot through her brain as she tried to sit up. ‘Ow.’ She stopped to cough away the hoarseness. ‘I hurt all over.’
‘Shh, shh,’ Jamie comforted, pulling her back against him. ‘Don’t try to move yet.’
She did as she was told, falling onto his chest, grateful for the excuse not to have to test her pain threshold. What felt like every muscle in her body ached. ‘Wh—wh—what happened?’
The fog of unconsciousness was beginning to clear, replaced by a deep terror as she once again opened her eyes to impenetrable blackness. She pushed a fist against her mouth to stop from crying out, fighting the panic building inside.
‘Cave-in,’ he said, lips still pressed to the side of her cheek.
A click echoed and a thin beam of light penetrated the inky dark to flicker over the earthen walls enclosing them. She jerked upright, a scream caught in her throat. Her aching head had no time to adjust and she cried out, clutching at her forehead.
‘Stay still,’ Jamie directed. ‘Everything’s gonna be okay.’ He reached out and tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. ‘Keep your eyes open. You might be concussed or in shock.’ He pointed the headlamp into her face. ‘Okay. Your pupils are both the same size and responding normally.’ He recaptured her body and smoothed his hands over her shoulders. ‘You’re all right. Shh. Don’t worry, I’m gonna get us out of here.’
Falling In Love Again Page 11
