Finally Home

by Taylor, Helen Scott

  Melanie watched Jack surreptitiously and tried to see him as other women did: wind-ruffled golden hair, dark glasses, open-necked shirt giving a peek of chest, muscular forearms effortlessly controlling the car. She could easily believe the gossip about him being a playboy in his early twenties.

  Just when she thought she knew the different facets of Jack’s character—businessman, sportsman, family man—he changed like a chameleon to suit his surroundings and she saw another side of him.

  If she hadn’t accompanied him to Italy, she was certain he wouldn’t have been without female company for long. Thank goodness she’d decided to come. Her flash of relief was quickly muted by a little burst of anger at herself. She firmed her lips and concentrated on the beautiful scenery. She must keep her unruly thoughts in check. He was her boss. It was none of her business who he dated as long as he kept his promise to be friends with Ryan.

  When they reached Positano, Jack drew the car to a halt outside a huge old hotel overlooking the sea. On the front, green wooden shutters were pinned open against pink plaster walls, and beneath hung window boxes overflowing with scarlet geraniums. As Jack carried their bags inside, Melanie followed, biting her lip. She’d trusted Jack to book the rooms. She prayed she wouldn’t discover he’d accidentally booked for them to share. She released a sigh of relief as the receptionist handed Jack two keys. It turned out their rooms weren’t even on the same floor.

  Alone in her room, she unpacked and hung the dress she’d bought to wear to the wedding on the front of the wardrobe. The calf-length green chiffon, which had looked exotic in the shop, now seemed rather ordinary. She imagined walking into the church, her hand on Jack’s arm. The other guests would assume they were a couple. Her stomach fluttered with a confusing mix of emotions and she quickly hung the dress away.

  Melanie opened the window and stared at the view over the sea, wondering if Jack were doing the same thing. She’d told him she needed an hour alone before dinner to recharge her batteries. Now she wished she didn’t have to wait here alone. If she’d known Jack’s room number, she could have walked up the stairs to find him—but she purposely hadn’t asked.

  Melanie took a tissue from her bag and her fingers brushed an envelope. With a rush of relief, she pulled it out. When she left Ryan with her grandma, he’d given her the envelope with strict instructions she mustn’t open it until she arrived in Italy. This would pull her out of her melancholy mood.

  Smiling, she ripped open the envelope and unfolded the piece of paper inside to reveal a drawing. Three people stood in a line holding hands: one tall with yellow hair, one middle-sized with long dark hair, and between them a small one with short dark hair. Underneath the figures her son had written Jack, me and Mummy. And in big sparkly rainbow-hued letters: My Family.

  * * *

  Melanie avoided looking at Jack on the drive to the wedding reception. With Ryan’s picture of his family still fresh in her mind, the romantic wedding ceremony in the small Italian church had been a poignant experience. She kept imagining Ryan in one of the cute little navy velvet pageboy outfits and the happy smile he’d have on his face if it were Jack standing beside her in front of the priest. Yet her parents and her husband had shown her that the romantic notion of happy families was a fantasy.

  Jack smiled at her. “You’re quiet. Didn’t you enjoy the ceremony? I thought women loved all that soppy stuff.”

  “I’m fine.” She managed a smile. “Just a little tired from the traveling yesterday.” She leaned her head back and closed her eyes to add weight to her words. Conflicting emotions warred inside her. Why not let her friendly relationship with Jack progress naturally to something deeper. It didn’t have to lead to marriage and forever. She knew he would be happy to take things further. Sometimes she caught him watching her when he thought she wasn’t looking.

  Yet the thought of allowing him any closer filled her with dread. She kept discovering new sides to Jack. What if she uncovered a side she didn’t like? She’d thought her husband was a good man when she married him, so her judgment was obviously faulty.

  “You sure you’re all right, Mel?” he asked as he maneuvered the car down a steep, narrow road towards a white villa swathed in bougainvillea.

  “I told you, I’m just a little tired.”

  When he cast her a worried glance, she knew her excuse was wearing thin. “You’ve been saying that all day.” Jack swung the car into the car park behind the villa and skillfully slotted the Ferrari between a low wall and a BMW. He frowned as he cut the engine and leaned back. “You said the same thing yesterday evening after dinner when I suggested a walk on the beach.” He touched his fingertips to her cheek. “Is something wrong?”

  A shiver of pleasure from his touch caught her by surprise. She tilted her head out of his reach and rubbed her forehead, hoping he hadn’t noticed her reaction. Keeping her feelings for Jack in check was proving far more difficult in Italy than it was at home. Work, Ryan and her strict routine kept her disciplined at home. Here all the boundaries were gone. It would be so easy to fall into his arms.

  She forced a smile. “I think I’m just overwhelmed. I haven’t been on holiday since before Ryan was born and then…” She clamped her teeth over her lip. The more time she spent with Jack, the harder it was to keep her past a secret from him.

  “And then what?”

  “And then we never went anywhere very exciting. My husband didn’t like to travel.”

  “Why not?”

  Because he didn’t want his partners to discover his crimes.

  Melanie glanced up at the villa wide-eyed and pretended to notice it for the first time. “Wow! What a fantastic place.” The building was perched on a rocky outcrop overlooking the sea. Sultry Italian music floated out of the open windows, and the smell of spicy food scented the air. “Pippa seems to have fallen on her feet.”

  Jack angled his head in a way that said he knew she had changed the subject on purpose but he didn’t press her. “No thanks to Pip. She’s her own worst enemy. Apparently, she didn’t tell Franco about the baby because she was frightened he wouldn’t want it. So she cut herself off from him and made herself miserable. If only she’d talked to him, all the heartache could have been avoided.” He removed his sunglasses and aimed his far-too-perceptive blue gaze her way. “Sometimes it’s best to be honest. Look at me. If I hadn’t been honest how I felt about Stephanie, I’d be married to her now—and regretting it.”

  “Would you?”

  “Of course.” Jack captured her hand in his and squeezed. “If I’d married Steph, I’d never have got to know you and Ryan so well.” He held her gaze for a long moment, her heart thumping as his thumb rubbed across her knuckles. Then he helped her from the car and motioned for her to precede him down the path to the villa.

  The luxurious building was full of beautiful people, their fluid, expressive Italian voices running descant to the music.

  “There’s Emily,” Jack said.

  Melanie stood on her toes to follow the direction of his gesture. She couldn’t see Emily, but she noticed many women cast admiring glances in Jack’s direction. In the sea of dark heads, his golden hair glowed like a beacon. Jack guided Melanie across the room, the pressure of his palm warm against the small of her back.

  “Familiar faces, thank goodness.” Emily laughed as they approached. She sat alone at a small round metal table, legs crossed, a tall iced glass in her hand. “The others have all deserted me. Not that I’m c
omplaining. Imelda is already tipsy. For the last half hour she’s kept on about how wonderful Marco is.” She screwed up her nose. “I spent the whole time biting my tongue so I didn’t say what I think of him. Pip only has eyes for Franco, and my husband’s holed up somewhere continuing his love affair with his mobile phone.”

  Jack and Emily exchanged a brief kiss on the cheek, then he pulled out a chair for Melanie. “Want a drink?” He scanned the room while she made herself comfortable. “We can grab a glass of plonk from a passing waiter, or there’s something fruity being served under the arch by the window.”

  “Something nonalcoholic if possible.”

  “Heresy,” Emily hissed, and then laughed. “Go on. Live dangerously.”

  The nightmare of Melanie’s alcoholic husband seemed light-years away, almost as if it had happened in a different lifetime. One glass of wine couldn’t hurt. “Champagne then, in honor of the occasion.”

  Jack glanced at her, his hint of surprise morphing into a bone-melting smile. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

  He lifted two crystal flutes filled with golden fizz from a tray bobbing past on a waiter’s hand and took the seat beside her.

  “To Pippa, Franco, the new baby and honesty,” he said, holding up his glass.

  Honesty? Jack seemed obsessed with honesty today. Disquiet fluttered through her. As a matter of principle, she’d never lied to him about her identity. She’d even listed her husband’s surgery as a past employer on her CV, otherwise she would have had to explain the huge gap in her employment history. Now the nightmare of the past felt like a ticking bomb that could destroy their friendship. She couldn’t bear to see the warmth in Jack’s eyes replaced by the burn of condemnation.

  Melanie touched her glass to his and he held her gaze as he sipped.

  “They’re dancing on the terrace overlooking the sea. Want to take a turn around the floor with me?” Jack waited, a questioning look in his eyes, his lips tilted in a self-deprecating smile as if he expected her to turn him down. A potent mix of longing and guilt seared through her hot and fast.

  “Don’t worry about leaving me. You go and enjoy yourselves.” Emily patted Melanie’s arm.

  Melanie nodded and put her hand in Jack’s. A dance was just a dance, not a lifelong commitment. No big deal. Keep it casual.

  She smiled and attempted nonchalance as Jack led her out to the terrace. She knew her attempt had failed as he slid his arm around her waist and she trembled.

  He leaned in and put his lips close to her ear. “Relax, Mel.” He drew her closer and the front of his jacket brushed her breasts.

  “It’s been a long time for me,” she blurted, then flushed when she realized how that sounded. “Since I danced. Like this. With a man.” Heavens. Stop talking, woman, before you make a complete idiot out of yourself.

  “Don’t worry.” He grinned down at her. “I’ll be gentle with you.”

  As they twirled to the lilting notes of the Italian guitar, the tension in her neck and shoulders eased. The heady fragrance of bougainvillea and warm sea air lulled her, until she almost believed she was dreaming. Jack’s hand on her waist guided her, his fingertips a gentle pressure on her skin through the chiffon. When the music slowed, he eased her closer and folded her into his embrace. She rested her cheek against his shoulder and closed her eyes.

  She lost track of how long they danced, but when she raised her head, the streaks of gold along the horizon had faded to a velvety blue and a small string of lanterns around the wall lit the terrace.

  “You’ve been dozing on my shoulder,” he whispered close to her ear. “Great for a guy’s ego, that is.”

  All the tension in her muscles had drained away and she did feel completely relaxed. “Told you I was tired.” She smiled up at him and noticed they’d stopped moving and were standing still as the sea of dancers circled around them.

  “Come down to the beach with me,” he said.

  Before she could consider her answer, Jack took her hand, led her to a break in the wall and down a flight of steps carved into the rocks. The tide had gone out since they’d arrived, and the lantern light glinted off ridges of wet sand.

  Melanie stooped, pulled off her sandals and left them on a rock by the steps. The wet sand chilled her feet, and a light breeze carried the tang of cooler air off the water. “Are you trying to wake me up?”

  “Definitely not.” Jack slipped his arm around her waist as they strolled. “I like you sleepy and confused. You do what I say without arguing.”

  “I don’t argue.”

  “What are you doing now?”

  Melanie laughed, intoxicated with the pleasure of his company. Jack stopped and leaned back against a wall of rock, easing her around to face him. The sea sighed against the sand as gentle waves rolled in and out behind her. He tucked loose strands of hair behind her ears and cupped the back of her head. “You have beautiful hair. Do you know that?”

  In the soft glow radiating from the villa, she stared at his lips. Would they be firm or soft? Against all common sense, she wanted to find out. She lifted her gaze to his. Twinkles of reflected lantern light glittered in his eyes. The moment stretched. His fingers flexed against her hair, pulled her closer. On a long, lingering breath, he breathed her name then lowered his mouth to hers.

  Their lips touched, no more than a whisper of sensation. He drew back a fraction as if giving her time to change her mind. She curled her fingers beneath his lapels and hung on. His lips were curved in a smile when he kissed her again. Melanie closed her eyes and lost herself in the press of his mouth, the stroke of his tongue. Flutters of pleasure coursed through her, stealing her away to a place of pure sensation.

  The sound of voices dragged her back to reality. She pulled away from Jack and a flicker of movement to the right caught her eye. A short distance away, in a nook in the rocks, Marco and a woman wearing a waitress’s uniform were wrapped around each other.

  The wonderful dreamy atmosphere evaporated. She and Jack had been kissing on the beach a few feet from Marco’s sordid dalliance. The pleasure she’d felt in Jack’s arms now seemed tainted. She swallowed back a feeling of nausea. She’d allowed herself to be swept away by the romance of the place, just as she’d feared. Here she was doing exactly what she’d promised herself she wouldn’t do.

  * * *

  “What is it?” Jack jolted out of his pleasurable daze as Melanie tensed in his arms. They’d grown so close over the past few weeks, so much a couple in all but intimacy, he’d thought she was ready to trust him. Perhaps his desire for her had made him misread the signs. He braced himself to be rebuffed.

  But she wasn’t looking at him. He followed the direction of her gaze and his stomach turned over. “Christ, no.” In the shadows a short distance away, Marco was making out with one of the waitresses.

  Jack had been happier these past few days than he had for years. Trust Marco to spoil things. “Damn him for cheating on Mum again. Last time this happened she wouldn’t leave her bedroom for a week.”

  “I can’t imagine that. Your mum seems so strong and assertive.”

  “Relationships do strange things to people.”

  He needed to check on his mother, but he was reluctant to let go of Melanie. He circled his palm on her back and tangled his fingers in the silk of her hair, soaking up the last few seconds of pleasure with her soft, warm body in his arms. “Sorry. Very bad timing,” he whispered. “I was enjoying myself.”

  H
er lips pressed together and she stepped away from him. “Marco’s making me uncomfortable. Can we go?”

  “Of course. I need to make sure Mum hasn’t seen him.” What he really wanted to do was dump Marco in the sea and feed him to the fish.

  Jack took Melanie’s hand and led her back to the villa. She retrieved her sandals and they mounted the steps to the terrace. Once they reached the lit area, he paused and scanned her face, trying to gauge if the kiss had meant as much to her as it had to him. He’d grown to love spending time with her and Ryan, almost as if they were already a family. And he loved every little thing about Melanie, from the soft, almost shy way she said his name to her slender curves. They’d only known each other for six months, but she filled his thoughts, day and night. He couldn’t imagine life without her now.

  With a frustrated sigh, he led her back inside. A quick search of the room where they’d left Emily proved fruitless. They moved the search outside and came across his cousin, arms folded, sitting on the bonnet of a BMW with a resigned expression on her face. True to form, her husband Doug was in the car tapping on the screen of his mobile phone. She rolled her eyes as they approached. “Apparently he absolutely must catch the last few minutes of trading on the New York stock exchange or the world will cease to exist as we know it.”

  “Have you seen Mum?” Jack asked.

  Emily’s eyes narrowed. “Not recently. Is there a problem?”

  “Marco’s doing his usual.”

  “Not again. I swear that man is like a heat-seeking missile where pretty women are concerned.”

  Jack sighed wearily. “Well, until Mum gives him the boot we must put up with him.”

  “Come on,” Emily said, heading back inside, “let’s find Imelda before she catches Marco out.”

  Jack held out his hand to Melanie but she shook her head.