About Three Authors

by Patti Roberts

  Gary regarded her thoughtfully, scratching the corner of his jaw, then he turned away without a word.

  The look on his face had been uncaring, detached somehow, sending Becky’s heart plummeting to the floor. She felt as though the air had been sucked out of her lungs, making her feel small and insignificant, like a deflated balloon.

  Gary snatched two glasses of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter, then turned back to face Becky. He tilted his head. “Care to join me in a glass or two of champagne?” he asked, his lips curling up into an irresistible smile.

  Becky’s lungs filled with air, and her heart blossomed spontaneously. “Tough decision,” she said, a playful smile reaching her eyes. “But first, let me put Mrs. White’s jacket in the library.”

  “Deal,” he said, following her down the hall and into the library. “May I also take this opportunity to tell you how beautiful you look tonight?”

  “You may,” she said, looking over her shoulder and smiling, a warm sensation filling her bones. “And might I take this opportunity to tell you how handsome you look in that suit?”

  “Ha. I feel like a bloody James Bond impersonator,” he replied.

  “Only better looking,” Becky added, draping the jacket over the back of the sofa. She took the champagne flute out of Gary’s hand and held it up.

  His eyes washed over her face, then he held up his glass to touch hers. “Cheers,” he said. “To the prettiest woman here tonight.”

  Her eyes held his as she tried not to blush. “Cheers,” she replied, then took a sip of the champagne. “We seem to be doing a lot of this lately,” she said, looking at the glass in her hand, and wishing they were doing a hell of a lot more than just drinking champagne.

  Chapter 16

  Can’t Fight This Feeling.

  BECKY JENSEN’S FACEBOOK STATUS: What a night! Great company, great champagne, great music, and it’s not over yet!

  Guests dined on pan-seared lobster tail, salmon, and caviar. Roasted duck with ricotta and pine nuts. Grilled Australian veal fillets with red wine jus, and parsnip puree. Strawberry watermelon cakes with rose-scented cream, and locally produced cheese, and chocolate platters, along with cakes depicting stacks of books, written by Elise, Polly and Mallory.

  When the last course was finished, Becky sat back in her chair, folded her arms across her stomach, then leaned across to Gary and whispered. “If I eat one more thing, I swear I’m going to explode.”

  Gary’s jacket was draped over the back of his chair, along with his tie. “Then I should take you back onto the dance floor, to work some of it off. The last thing any of us want is having you explode at the dinner table,” he said, standing and pulling her chair out for her. He held out his hand, then, hand in hand, he walked her to the dance floor.

  Several other couples were already dancing. Joan and her date for the evening, Barry, were monopolising the dance as they tangoed theatrically from one side of the dance floor to the other.

  As Gary and Becky stepped on the dance floor, the song ended, and another began. Gary rested his right hand on the small of Becky’s back, gently drawing her into him. The fingers on his left hand entwined in hers, and they began to slow dance to the band playing a rendition of REO Speedwagon, “Can’t Fight This Feeling”. Becky stared up into Gary’s eyes, everyone one else around them completely forgotten about, as he glided her effortlessly across the dance floor in his arms.

  When the song finished and another began, Polly tapped her son on his shoulder. “May I cut in for just a moment?” she asked.

  “Of course,” Becky said. She released Gary’s hand, then hugged Polly. “Thank you for inviting me to this beautiful party. I shall never forget it.” Then she whispered into Polly’s ear. “But if I don’t go to the bathroom this very second, I shall pee my pants.”

  Polly laughed. “Then you better go, quickly,” she whispered back, giving Becky a light smack on her bottom as she turned to go.

  Mother and son danced in silence for a moment before Polly said, “She’s a lovely girl. Please don’t go breaking her heart. Yours neither, for that matter.”

  Gary shook his head and sighed. “I think it’s too late for that, Mum,” he replied solemnly.

  Polly squeezed her son’s arm. She knew exactly how it felt to fall for someone that lived halfway around the world.

  They danced for a moment longer, then Polly said, “Is that Wendy?”

  Gary turned his mother around, then looked over her head.

  Wendy was swerving her way across the lawn in five-inch heels.

  “Shit, she’s drunk. I’m so sorry, Mum, I’ll go put her in one of the limos and send her home straight away. The last thing I want her to do is cause a scene and spoil your big night, which is just the best, by the way.”

  Polly’s hand rested on her son’s cheek. “And just so you know, Gary, you’re the best. I love you. My life wouldn’t be complete without you. Now go take care of business.”

  Gary hugged his mother. “I love you, Mum.”

  After persuading Wendy that she could not stay at the party, Gary escorted her back to the car park by her elbow.

  He propped Wendy up against one of the limousines that was emitting loud music, then knocked on the driver’s window.

  The window rolled down. “How can I help you, mate?” Jake asked, turning down the music.

  “I need a favour,” Gary said, extracting a fifty dollar bill out of his wallet.

  “I should get back,” a young woman wearing a waitress’s uniform said from the passenger seat, as she buttoned up her top.

  Jake watched her open the door and slide out of the car. “Nice meeting you, um…” he waved his hand, and then looked back up at Gary. “So what’s the favour, mate?”

  “I need you to take someone home. It’s not far from here.”

  Jake nodded.

  “I don’t wanna go home,” Wendy moaned, tugging on Gary’s shirt sleeve.

  He slapped her hand away. “Stop it. And you are going home. You’re drunk.”

  “It’s New Year’s Eve. Of course I’m drunk. The question is, why aren’t you? She poked her head around his shoulder. “Have you got a date? Where is she?”

  Gary sighed. “Wendy, will you please just get in the fucking car?”

  Jake poke his head back out of the car window, then winked at Wendy. She giggled and winked back.

  Jake took the fifty out of Gary’s hand. “No problems, mate. Put her in the back, I’ll make sure she gets home safe and sound.”

  “Come, on,” Gary said, depositing Wendy into the back of the limousine, which she promptly slid straight back out of as soon as Gary turned his back.

  She giggled, then ran around to the far side of the car. “Bet you can’t catch me.” Her dress was black, tight, short, and barely covered the cheeks of her bottom. The cleavage was low, almost down to her waist, and displayed two silicon enhanced breasts, which almost jiggled when she ran. Her bottle jet black hair was long, dead straight, and looked like an oil slick.

  Gary chased the giggling Wendy around to the back of the car, then to the front. When Gary finally caught hold of her, which wasn’t really that difficult in her state, he quickly deposited her back inside the car with a stern warning.

  “If you get back out again, you can find your own way home.”

  Wendy sat with her arms folded across her chest, a contemptuous pout on her face.

  Gary gave Jake the directions through the window. “Under no circumstances are you to let her talk you into bringing her back.”

  Jake gave Gary the thumbs up. “You got it, mate.” The driver’s window slid closed, reflecting Gary’s face in the glass.

  “I hate you,” Wendy screeched through the back window of the limousine as it drove away.

  What in God’s name did I ever see in her? Gary thought, shoving his hands into his pockets. He shook his head, then turned away and walked back to the party. Back to Becky.

  He found Becky sitting o
n the end of the jetty by herself. She had her shoes off, and her skirt was hitched up. Her toes were splashing back and forth in the water, and she was humming along to the song the band was playing.

  “There you are,” he said, taking off his shoes and socks, then rolling up his trousers. He sat down next to her. “I thought I’d lost you.”

  Becky looked back up at him. “I thought I’d lost you.”

  “Not a chance.” He looked at the drink in her hand. “What’s that you’re drinking?”

  “Jägermeister shots,” she replied.

  “Jägermeister shots. Really?”

  “Yep,” Becky said, holding up the small shot glass. “I have worked out that there are four very good reasons why Jägermeister shots are my new favourite drink.”

  Gary looked at her expectantly for a moment, waiting for her to continue. When she made no indication of doing so, he asked, “Only four reasons?” He began to roll up the sleeves of his white shirt.

  Becky nodded, holding up one finger in front of his face. “One: my cheating ex-boyfriend detests it.” She held up another finger. “Two: sculling a shot looks way sexier and more mysterious than sipping champagne. Three,” she held up a third finger, “it’ll give me the courage to do something I wouldn’t normally do.”

  “Really? And what would that be?” he asked. “Or shouldn’t I ask?”

  Becky threw back her head and skulled the Jägermeister. She put down the empty shot glass, then screwed up her nose, coughing into her other hand. “Bloody hell, that tastes like crap.” She looked at Gary, studying his face, then leaned in, took his face clumsily into her hands and, with her eyes squeezed tightly closed, kissed him on the lips.

  After a few long moments of her lips fixed on his, she released his face, her hands dropping down to rest gently onto his chest.

  Gary’s eyes were wide open. “Fuck. Well. I wasn’t expecting that,” he said, a bemused look on his face. He raked his hands through his hair, contemplating what to say or do next.

  “I’m sorry,” Becky blurted, pulling her hands quickly away. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. “I’m really, really sorry. It’s just this place, all the champagne, the dancing, the shots. You.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes. You. I’m sorry. I just thought… Well, it doesn’t matter.” She looked down at her clasped hands.

  “No need to apologize,” Gary said, looking out across the water for a long moment, then back at her. “What was number four, by the way?”

  “What?”

  “You said there were four reasons why Jägermeister was your new favourite drink. You only gave me three reasons just now.”

  Becky returned his gaze, her brow furrowing, as she searched her alcohol-infused brain cells for an answer to his question. “Number four…” She screwed up her nose again, tapping her chin, and then shook her head. “I’ve got nothing,” she laughed, then added, “I think I might be a little pissed.”

  Gary smiled. “I leave you alone for half an hour and this is what happens? You go ahead and party on without me?”

  She gave him a quick sideways glance. “It would appear so. Yes.”

  “Okay,” Gary said, standing up, then rolling down the legs of his trousers. He looked down at her for a long moment. “I should probably leave you to it, then.” Abruptly, he turned and began to walk away, his hands shoved in his pockets, his head lowered.

  Becky covered her face with her hands and groaned. That had not gone the way she had expected it to. Jesus. Now he thinks I’m a slutty drunk with ex-boyfriend issues.

  “Don’t go anywhere,” he called back over his shoulder a moment later. “I’m just going to get a Jägermeister for myself, and a glass of water for you.” He turned around to face her and began walking backwards. “Can’t have you blaming alcohol for any other impulsive moves you might make.” He turned his back on her then, and walked back into the fray of guests.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” she called back, a giggle escaping through her fingertips. Her hands dropped back into her lap, and she smiled as she gazed up into the starless, pitch-black sky, her toes tracing circles in the cool water.

  Ten, nine, eight, seven, six.

  Gary pulled Becky to her feet on the end of the jetty. A bolt of lightning seared through the ink-black sky. Five, four, three, two… On the stroke of midnight, fireworks erupted with loud bangs, snaps, and crackles, lighting up the sky overhead in an explosion of colour as Gary took Becky’s face in his hands and kissed her softly, then more passionately on the lips, sobering her up like a slap in the face.

  She wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, for fear that her legs might give way beneath her at any second, and then returned his kiss. A second later, the heavens burst open, drenching them both in a deluge of rain.

  Nothing else mattered to Becky in that moment. Not the rain streaming down her face. Not the wet fabric of her gown clinging to her legs. Not the fireworks exploding in the sky above her. Not the joyous shouts of Happy New Year, the music or the other guests. Not Roger, not Mandy, not their baby. Not even Clive or her Uncle Steve. Not Grandma. Not her father and his new wife, Felicity. Even the pain of losing her mother escaped her for a few precious moments.

  Gary’s kiss consumed her completely.

  She heard the old woman’s words drift through her mind, “Follow your heart, dear, and nothing will ever be too complicated.”

  “Happy New Year,” Gary breathed, kissing the side of her neck, then her lips again.

  “Take me to your cabin,” she whispered breathlessly when their lips briefly parted.

  He brushed damp strands of hair off her face, his fingertips lingering longer than needed. “Are you sure?” he asked, then kissed her again, before she had time to answer.

  She pulled away, staring up into his eyes. “I’m completely sure,” she murmured, before he took her in his arms and kissed her again.

  A few moments later, he released her. He leaned down to pick up their shoes, then handed Becky her sandals. He took hold of her free hand, then led her to the speedboat moored alongside the jetty, keeping hold of her hand until she was safely on board.

  His white shirt clung to his damp skin, revealing his broad chest and shoulders. He raked fingers through his wet hair, then stepped into the boat after her, tossing his shoes on the floor of the boat. Untying the rope, he thrust the boat away from the jetty with his hands. Moments later, the speedboat roared to life, then skimmed across the lake’s surface like a skipping stone. Another fireball of fireworks exploded in the sky above them, raining down sizzling tears of silver, green and gold.

  Becky’s eyes fluttered open to the sound of the wind dancing through tree branches, and a flock of squawking birds winging their way out across the lake. She was on her back, naked, with just a white sheet covering her. She smiled, thinking about the glorious night she had just spent with Gary. She focused on the twirling ceiling fan, then dragged her eyes off the fan, and looked down. Gary’s arm was slung casually across her torso. He was on his side facing her, and was sound asleep. For a long moment she didn’t move, content in just watching him sleeping beside her.

  She could get used to this, if she wasn’t leaving in a few hours. She eased his arm off her belly and sat it down on the empty space, where her body had been only moments before. She scanned the room for her clothing, then her eyes settled on a white t-shirt draped over the arm of a chair in the corner of the room. She walked quickly over to it, picked it up, and then buried her face in it, inhaling Gary’s familiar scent of cologne and sweat. After a long moment, she slipped the t-shirt over her head. Too big for her, the neckline fell off her right shoulder. Her hair was hanging loose, trailing down her back and shoulders. She tipped-toed to the bedroom door, looked over her shoulder at Gary’s naked form once more, then pulled the door closed quietly behind her. Her mind was racing a thousand miles per second. She didn’t want to leave, but what choice did she have? None.

  This was just a job, a work
ing holiday. “It will help you put things into perspective,” Uncle Steve had said as they’d said their goodbyes at the airport seven days ago. And of course he was right, he usually was. She hadn’t obsessed or cried over Roger and Mandy at all in the last couple of days. In fact, she hardly thought about them at all anymore. Well, not until just now. It was a liberating feeling, not thinking about them.

  She found her gown and Gary’s clothing on the rug in front of the Christmas tree, and gathered them up in her arms.

  They had stripped out of their wet clothing and made love on the rug, when they had first arrived at the cottage last night. Afterwards, they had moved into the bedroom, and had made love for the second time, then the third time, before falling asleep spent, and in each other’s arms.

  Out on the veranda of the cottage, she hung the wet clothing over the banister to dry. Monty bounded up the steps, and onto the veranda. He nudged her hand, waiting for a pat, his tail pounding the timber flooring like a hammer. Becky knelt down and patted him on the head. “Happy New Year, boy,” she said. Monty barked once, then bounded back down the steps. He shot off across the grass down to the water’s edge, then chased a pair of pelicans into the water, who, up until Monty’s sudden arrival, had been enjoying a peaceful morning stroll.

  Becky stood up, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. The early morning air was still cool and fresh from last night’s storm. The rising sun quickly illuminated the clear sky, hinting at the heat yet to come. Crickets punctuated the fast approaching day with fervour.

  In the house behind her, she heard a running tap, followed by creaking floorboards. He was awake. The thought thrilled her, filling her stomach with a million butterflies. She held her breath, waiting. Within moments, her wait was over, and his arms were wrapped tightly around her. He was wearing a pair of boxer shorts. His chest was bare.

  “Good morning, beautiful. How did you sleep?” He brushed back strands of her tousled hair and kissed her exposed shoulder, then the gentle curve of her neck, leaving her skin goose-bumped and tingling.