The Morning After The Wedding Before

by Anne Oliver

  Don’t. Her lips moved but no sound came out.

  ‘Why not?’ he murmured. ‘You kissed me the other night and I can’t return the favour?’

  ‘That was … different.’ Her voice was breathless and he got the impression she’d have pressed her rigid spine through the wall if she could.

  ‘Yeah,’ he said, recalling the firestorm which had engulfed them both for one unguarded moment. ‘It was.’

  ‘It was impulsive and selfish and I used you.’

  Straightening up, he looked at her eyes, almost violet in the dim light from the single naked globe above the bed. ‘I didn’t mind. And, if we’re being honest here, you didn’t mind either.’ He saw colour bleed into her cheeks and patted her leg. ‘Take it from me, Surfer Boy wasn’t right for you.’

  ‘And you’d know that how …?’ She stared at him out of soulful eyes. ‘I sure as heck don’t know Jake Carmody. You work in the sex industry.’ Her voice rose with disapproval. ‘You own that … that place. So you … It follows naturally that you’re not ashamed to use and exploit women—often women with no other choices—to make money. And it’s just wrong,’ she went on. ‘Does—?’

  ‘I didn’t buy the strip club. I inherited the place when Earl died.’

  She frowned. ‘Earl? Who’s Earl?’

  ‘My father.’

  ‘Oh …’ A slow exhalation of breath accompanied the word. She curled her fingers beneath her chin. ‘So … your dad owned it.’

  ‘Not “dad.” That word implies some sort of familial bond and there wasn’t any.’ He refused to allow regret to intrude on his life. He didn’t need family. He didn’t need anyone. ‘And before you say I should shut it down and walk away and there’d be one less sleazy club in King’s Cross I have the staff to consider. I’ve found a potential buyer but we’re negotiating; I want to ensure a fair deal for everyone.’

  ‘Oh. Yes. Of course. I …’ She trailed off, and maybe her eyes softened, but he couldn’t be sure because for once in his life he wasn’t really seeing the woman in front of him.

  He scratched the niggling sensation at the back of his neck that he’d learned long ago to recognise as insecurity. He hadn’t felt it in years. He made his own rules, controlled his circumstances, his life. Himself. Always.

  Not this time.

  He clenched his jaw against the feeling that the rules had suddenly changed and his life was veering off course. And he might have left then but for Emma’s soft voice.

  ‘Your mother … is she …?’

  ‘She lives in South America. She doesn’t keep in touch.’ After nearly two decades, her abandonment still had the power to slice at his heart. He’d always made a point of not getting personally involved in other people’s lives because it would involve opening up his own.

  ‘Do you have any siblings to help? Extended family?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘That must be tough for you, handling everything on your own.’

  He shrugged dismissively. ‘I’m a tough guy.’ It was baggage he’d left behind years ago and he wasn’t going there. Not for anyone.

  She nodded slowly and smoothed the sarong over her legs. ‘Look, I’m sorry if I sounded over the top, it’s just that I have very firm thoughts about men who use women for their own purposes.’

  He knew she was thinking of Surfer Boy. ‘Acknowledged and understood.’

  ‘Still, I am sorry about your dad … I can see it hurt you. If you wa—’

  ‘Okay. Let’s leave it at that.’

  ‘So … um … How did it go with the guys’ night?’ She didn’t seem in such a hurry to kick him out now, and he didn’t know whether that was a good thing or not.

  ‘Ry may need me to remind him tomorrow that he had a good time.’

  ‘Did it include a visit to King’s Cross by any chance?’

  ‘Every bucks’ night worth its mettle has to include a stop somewhere in King’s Cross.’ Unfortunately. He must be the only straight guy in Sydney who didn’t find striptease a turn-on.

  ‘Well, we girls enjoyed our own private stripper right here.’ With a theatrical flick of her hair she drew her knees up to her chest, tucking the edges of the sarong beneath her feet.

  ‘And how did that go?’

  ‘Man, he was hot.’ The instant the words were out her hands rushed to her cheeks. ‘I’ve never seen a guy strip … well, not that way.’ She sucked in her lips. Her cheeks were pink beneath her hands.

  ‘Am I detecting a double standard here?’ He couldn’t resist teasing her. ‘Okay for the girls to look but not the guys?’

  ‘Oops!’ Her pearl-tipped nails moved to her lips. ‘Can I say I didn’t look?’

  ‘Afraid not.’ He leaned closer. ‘I have to tell you, you looked hot too, last night, in that sexy little number.’

  Her smile, when it appeared, was a delight to behold. ‘It was fun dressing up and feeling attractive for a change.’

  ‘You should try it more often.’

  ‘Try what?’ Her smile disappeared. Her hands fell away from her face. A shadow flickered in her eyes—a blue moon sinking into an inky sea—as she crossed her arms and hugged her shoulders. ‘Looking attractive? Gee, thanks heaps.’

  ‘Fun, Emma. Just try having some fun.’ He was barely aware that his hands had somehow moved towards her thighs, so close he could feel the heat from her body, and barely caught himself in time.

  He jerked back and away. Pushed to his feet. If he stayed he was just un-sober enough to show her something about having fun … and he didn’t want to think about the consequences if he did.

  Not tonight.

  ‘Since you don’t seem to need me for anything, I’m going to see if I can catch up with Ry after all. I haven’t heard the limo leave yet.’ He didn’t know what demon prompted him to add, ‘The night’s still young. Might as well enjoy my evening off …’

  He winked—he never winked—leaving Emma staring wide-eyed at him as he lifted a hand, then turned and walked away. ‘‘Night.’

  He let himself out and headed towards the limo at the top of the drive. He needed the brisk evening air to cool his groin. So much for keeping his past where it belonged. He’d moved on, made something of himself. Until Earl had died and all the old bad had rushed back.

  He didn’t need Emma messing with his head, trying to make everything all right. Maybe he should just keep things as they were. Acquaintances. Casual friends.

  He came to an abrupt halt. Except … now he’d tasted her on his lips, enjoyed the slippery slide of her lithe womanly body against his. Seen and felt her respond as a woman did to a man she fancied …

  Friends, hell. It was too late for that.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘DID you ever see such a view?’ Emma leaned over the balcony outside the room she was sharing with Stella for the night. ‘You sure know how to pick a wedding venue. It’s like some god has spread a knobbly green carpet over the Grand Canyon, then sprayed it with a fine indigo mist.’

  ‘It helps that one of Ryan’s uncles owns the place,’ her sister said cheerily behind her.

  Nestled on the edge of the escarpment at Echo Point, in the famous Blue Mountains west of Sydney, the exclusive boutique hotel was pure luxury. The majestic view of Jamieson Valley stretched out below them, equally breathtaking. As evening approached, soft golden light coloured the sky. Inky pools were swallowing up the valley floor, and the sun’s last rays hammered the streaks of exposed rock with vermilion, carving deep purple shadows between.

  Stella joined Emma at the balcony’s wooden rail. ‘The guys won’t be seeing anything like this where they are.’

  ‘No,’ Emma murmured, drawing her tracksuit jacket closer as the air chilled. The guys and Ryan’s parents were spending the night at a cosy little bed and breakfast in Katoomba, a two-minute drive away. ‘But I’m sure they’ll find something to entertain them.’ Her tone was more caustic than she’d intended.

  She was still brooding over the way Jake had swaggered
out of the studio last night. She couldn’t stop wondering what he’d got up to afterwards. Her fingers tightened on the cool wood. He’d winked at her. She knew exactly what he’d got up to.

  And why on earth was she tying herself up in knots over it? It was precisely the kind of behaviour that reminded her that he had been, and obviously still was, a chick magnet. And why he was such a knee-buckling, sigh-worthy experienced kisser …

  ‘So, Stella.’ Forcing him from her thoughts, she linked arms with her sister and guided her back to the little glass table. ‘Ryan can’t wait for tomorrow. He’s going to make a wonderful husband, and you’re going to have lots of babies and live happily ever after, the way you always dreamed.’

  She picked up their Cosmopolitan cocktails and offered a toast. ‘To your last night as a single woman.’

  As she sipped, Emma’s gaze drifted inside, through the floor-to ceiling glass doors, to the two four-poster double beds with their embroidered snowy white covers and mountains of soft lace pillows.

  Ryan’s parents had footed the bill for the entire wedding and the wedding party’s accommodation here tomorrow night. Ryan was their only child, and for them this extravagance was a drop in the ocean.

  ‘You’re marrying money, Stell. We might have been rich too if Dad hadn’t made those bad investments just before he died.’

  Stella nodded. ‘Yeah, Mum never got over losing her inheritance that way.’

  ‘She never got over Dad.’ Even now their mother was in her own beautifully appointed room down the hall, alone. ‘She let him destroy her,’ Emma went on. ‘Even beyond the grave she’s still letting him colour her life grey.’

  Emma reminded herself that she wanted no part of that pain. Wayne had temporarily clouded her vision with his good looks and smooth-talking charm, but now she saw everything through the crystal-clear lens of experience. No man would ever have that power over her again.

  Stella set her glass down and touched Emma’s hand. ‘You’ve kept us together all these years with a roof over our heads and I want to thank you—’

  ‘It was my responsibility as the elder sister to keep us safely off the streets.’ She shook her head. ‘You looked out for Mum—I had it easy compared to you. But I wanted a career too. All you ever wanted was to find the right man and get married.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Stella sighed. Then she smiled, her face aglow with a bride’s radiance. ‘But now I’m marrying Ryan I’ll be in a position to help out. I’ve already decided—’

  ‘Stella—’

  ‘He and I have discussed it.’

  ‘For Mum, then. Not for me.’

  Stella met her eyes. ‘You don’t want to give away a bit of that independence and find someone to love and share your life with some day?’

  ‘Love? No.’ Because Stella’s question had unsettled her, she cupped her suddenly cold hands beneath her armpits. ‘I prefer lust. Less complicated.’

  ‘You’re hurting after what happened with Wayne,’ her sister said gently, ‘and that’s okay because—’

  ‘I told you last night. It was lust, not love.’

  ‘Bed buddies?’ Stella murmured, then shook her head. ‘I don’t believe you for one minute, Em. And I don’t care what you say. You do want love somewhere down the track when you’re over the love rat. I remember when we were kids and used to talk about the men we were going to marry. Your man had to own a house by the sea, he had to love animals, ‘cos Mum refused to let us have pets and he had to own a cupcake shop.’

  Emma smiled at her childish fantasies. ‘What about your ivory castle?’

  ‘We’re staying in one in France.’ Stella hugged her drink close to her chest. ‘Not ivory, but a real medieval castle with its own resident ghost.’

  Emma heard the signal for an incoming text and dug her phone out of her pocket to read the screen.

  ‘How’s the view where U R? J’

  She frowned as a butterfly did a single loop in her stomach. She texted back: ‘Glorious.’

  Setting the phone on the table, she reached for her drink and considered switching the thing off. She needed a clear head for tomorrow, and interacting with Jake beforehand—in any way, shape or form—wouldn’t do her any favours.

  A moment later another text appeared. ‘Did U bring work?’

  She sipped her drink and looked at her phone a moment before answering: ‘Yes.’

  Seemed he wasn’t put off by her one-word texts, because the next one appeared a moment later.

  ‘Not allowed. This weekend is about having fun.’

  Fun and Jake …? A shiver tingled down her spine. He was a man who definitely knew how to have fun. She texted back: ‘Is she a blonde?’

  ‘I have a certain brunette in mind. Meet me downstairs 4 a drink.’

  The shiver spread to her limbs. ‘Spending evening with sister. Remember her? 2moro’s bride.’ She switched her phone off, shoved it back in her pocket.

  ‘Who are you texting?’

  ‘Jake.’ She threw Stella an accusatory glance.

  ‘Anything wrong?’

  ‘He asked me to meet him for a drink.’ She felt Stella’s gaze and looked away, out over the darkening valley and the gold-rimmed purple clouds in the distance.

  ‘Something you’re not telling me, here?’ Stella asked behind her.

  ‘No.’ She had the niggling feeling she was being set up by her sister.

  ‘Jake likes women, but he’s a good guy. Nothing like the love rat. He’s not into commitment right now and, as you’ve clearly pointed out, neither are you … so are you going?’

  ‘Of course not.’ She turned around and met her sister’s scrutiny full-on. Stella had a half-smile on her lips, as if she didn’t quite believe her. Emma glared back. ‘This is our last night together—you and me.’ And she wanted to place some orders and research some alternative suppliers on her laptop at some stage.

  ‘Well, I’m going to have a long soak in that to-die-for spa tub.’ Stella rose, collected their glasses and walked towards the door. ‘I won’t miss you for an hour or so if you want to change your mind.’

  ‘Nope.’ Emma followed her in. ‘I’ve got my music to keep me company.’ So much for placing orders. Right now she couldn’t remember a single item she needed, and music seemed a more soothing option.

  The hotel’s phone rang as Emma closed the balcony’s glass doors and Stella stretched out on her bed to pick up. ‘This is the bride’s room,’ she announced, with a bounce in her voice. ‘You’re speaking to the bride, who’s just about to enjoy her own candlelit spa bath.’ She grinned over at Emma, then rolled onto her back, listening to whoever was on the other end of the phone. ‘Uh-huh. In the lobby. Ten minutes. Okay.’

  Emma’s pulse blipped. She sat on her own bed and unravelled her earphones. ‘No.’

  ‘But it’s Ryan.’ She hugged the phone to her chest. ‘The guys had Chinese take-out and he has a fortune cookie for me—isn’t that sweet of him?’

  ‘It’s not sweet, Stell, it’s subterfuge.’ Emma lay back and closed her eyes. ‘Jake put him up to this, and I’ll bet you your fortune cookie that it’s Jake, not Ryan, down there.’

  ‘Please, Em. You have to go to make sure. I can’t see him now before the ceremony. It’s bad luck.’

  ‘And Ryan would know that.’

  ‘Pleeease?’

  ‘Fine,’ she huffed, and sat up, clipping her iPod to her jacket.

  ‘She said fine,’ Stella told her caller, and hung up then grinned. ‘Thanks, bridesmaid.’

  Emma grabbed an elastic band from the nightstand and dragged her hair back into a tight ponytail. ‘Only for you, and only because it’s your wedding day tomorrow. Then I’m going for a run.’

  ‘Take your time,’ she heard Stella call as Emma let herself out of the room and headed for the stairs.

  Jake disconnected with a satisfied grin. ‘You don’t need me for a while, do you, Ry? She said yes.’

  Ryan was stretched out on the couch, checking out t
heir honeymoon destination on his tablet PC but he glanced up as Jake pulled on a clean T-shirt. ‘You’re a sneaky devil.’

  ‘Make that smart and sneaky.’ He stuffed his wallet in his jeans. ‘And your fiancée’s as much to blame as me.’

  ‘Then she’s a sneaky devil too.’ He tapped the screen. ‘I don’t know why I’m marrying her.’

  Jake grinned and waggled his brows. ‘Having second thoughts? It’s not too late to back out, you know.’

  ‘Ah, but the reception’s paid for. Why waste good grog?’

  ‘There’s that.’ His humour fading, Jake sat down on the end of the couch and studied his best mate. ‘Seriously, Ry. Why the big commitment?’

  Ry looked up, and Jake saw the furrows of concentration in his mate’s brow smooth out and the corners of his mouth tip up. ‘When you meet the woman you want to spend the rest of your life with you’ll know why.’

  ‘But married?’ Jake mentally shuddered at the word. ‘Why would you want to spend your life with one woman? Man wasn’t meant to be monogamous.’

  ‘Says who?’

  ‘I read it in an article. Somewhere. A reputed scientific journal, if I remember right.’

  ‘Okay, well, this man’s monogamous.’ Ry resumed tapping his screen.

  ‘Maybe now,’ Jake said. ‘I remember when you and those twins—’

  ‘Past history. I was at uni and Stell and I weren’t seeing each other then.’

  ‘But how do you know she’s the one?’

  Ry’s finger paused. ‘When I saw my children in her eyes I knew.’

  Jake stared at the guy he’d thought he knew. ‘Crikey, mate—break out the violins.’

  Ry squinted at something on the screen, slid a finger over its surface. ‘Just because you’re not into the matrimonial thing doesn’t mean others aren’t.’

  ‘Fair dinkum—your children in her eyes?’

  Ry looked up, a lopsided grin on his face. ‘Yeah. We want kids. A whole bunch of ‘em.’ His expression sobered. ‘I guess the bottom line is I love Stella. For better or worse. I don’t want to imagine my life without her.’