by Karina Bliss
A flute of champagne landed on the table in front of her. “I figure we should officially celebrate our engagement.” Lee sat down with a Scotch and the open half bottle of champagne. He glanced at her face. “Bad news?”
“Not at all.” She managed to smile. “My mother sends her congratulations.” Much as she’d have preferred to keep this temporary engagement off her mother’s radar the press coverage made that impossible.
“She still with that guy she was dating when I left?” During their six-week affair, Lee had never met Helen, and Jules had pitched her upbringing as a situation comedy. Precocious only child bringing up a twice-divorced mother always optimistically searching for Mr. Right.
Jules’s father had fallen into the Mr. Wrong category, disappearing when she was an infant. However, given her mother’s poor judgment when it came to men, she doubted she’d missed much.
She had loved her stepfather—husband number two—but then he’d cheated on her mother when Jules was twelve, and Helen had severed all visitation rights to punish him. “Yes, she found her happy ever after. She and Gus married shortly after your much-exaggerated death.”
“Speaking of which.” Jules raised her champagne flute. “To you,” she toasted. After shopping they’d visited a salon to fix what Lee called “his god-awful cut.” The stylist had layered his hair so it fell softer around his stark bone structure. The contrast gave him a poet’s quality and accentuated the intensity of his light green eyes. Light only in color, the inner light was missing. Every time Jules was tempted to blurt out the truth she looked at that shuttered gaze.
“To us,” Lee amended, chinking his tumbler against her flute.
“To us.” The champagne was pub brand and cheap, the bubbles sour. Jules gulped it anyway. Toughen up, Browne, you knew this would be difficult. It didn’t help that the attraction was always there—a trail of gunpowder waiting for a spark.
“Any idea what you might do as a job when you’re fit again?” she asked.
“None,” he said shortly. “But enough about my career prospects—yours are clearly on the rise.”
She didn’t want to talk about the partnership since it had tied up his money. “I’ve done okay,” she said, after another sip. How ironic that getting her life and career back on track was now causing her grief. “Will you stay with the SAS?”
“Haven’t decided.” He drained his Scotch.
Her fingers tightened on the stem. “Not a combat unit,” she insisted, because this might be her only opportunity to have this conversation. “None of us can go through this again.” She only realized how shrilly she’d spoken when a couple at the next table glanced over. Jules lowered her voice. “Please.”
Silently, Lee refilled her drink from the half bottle and, when Jules shook her head, picked it up himself and took a gulp. “Wizard of Oz,” he said. “The scarecrow wanted a brain, who wanted courage?”
She understood him perfectly. “You’re still a lion, Lee.”
“Maybe. Any of them need a stomach? Because I’ve lost mine for conflict. And faith, I’m outta faith. No man left behind.” He quoted the SAS creed, drank again. “That worked real well.”
Jules sat stricken. “All the evidence pointed to your death.”
He seemed to recollect himself. “You’re right, it’s the alcohol talking.” With a grimace Lee pushed her champagne away from him. “Guess I’ve lost my head for it. Wonder where our food is?” He twisted to scan the busy kitchen, visible through a service hatch.
She was about to follow his gaze when Mark’s profile came into view in front of her, where he sat at a corner table lunching with colleagues. Too late Jules recalled the many times she’d refused an invitation to meet him here. His architectural practice was around the corner.
Lee turned back, obscuring Mark from sight. With an immense effort, Jules refocused. “In The Wizard of Oz, Dorothy just wanted to get home.... You’re home.”
“Dad was home to me.” He forced a smile, but it couldn’t cover the vastness of his grief. “And now I have you. Ah, the food.” He smiled at the waitress delivering it. “Looks delicious, thank you.” Then he got busy unrolling the cutlery from a paper napkin.
Jules waited for the waitress to leave. “How can I help you?”
He didn’t look up from his meal. “Eat,” he said. “Before it gets cold.”
“Lee.” Leaning forward, she put her hand over his. “You are not alone.”
He made no effort to return her clasp. “And the tin woman needed a heart, right?”
“What?”
“My mistake. It was the tin man.” Turning his palm up, he lifted her hand to his lips. There was a dark thread through this conversational turn. Frowning, Jules tried to unravel it, but at that moment Mark appeared behind Lee.
“Excuse me for interrupting, Sergeant Davis, but I wanted to say welcome home.” He thrust out a hand. “I’m Mark Holloway, Rich’s older brother.”
Lee released her hand to shake Mark’s. “I saw Rich yesterday, he was in the welcoming guard. We only had time to exchange a few words.”
“Yeah, he phoned last night and mentioned your homecoming was pretty spectacular.”
Jules could have kicked herself. She should have phoned him, let him know about the engagement.
He turned to her with a polite smile and hard eyes. “Hi, Jules.” Definitely pissed. “Great photo in the paper this morning. Is that the ring? Can I take a closer look?”
Reluctantly, she held it out.
* * *
“YOU KNOW EACH other?” Lee asked.
“Through your army buddies.” Mark examined Jules’s ring. Odd for a guy to be so interested, but maybe he was a jeweler. “A barbecue at Nate and Claire’s.”
Lee frowned. Nate and Claire, that sounded so wrong.
“Mark’s an architect.” Jules freed her hand. “He’s drawing plans to extend Claire’s house at Stingray Bay.”
“If you really want a remodeling challenge you should take a look at Jules’s place.” Unable to wait, Lee picked up one of his fries and bit into it. Ah, God that was good. He’d missed fat.
“I’ve seen Jules’s house,” said Mark. “I thought it had a lot of potential.” Something in his tone fixed Lee’s attention.
“I can’t afford you,” Jules said lightly. She was nervous and trying to hide it. Swallowing his fry, Lee glanced at her pale face, raised to the man towering over her.
“Mates’ rates,” Mark said. “You can’t have forgotten.”
Lee ate another fry. This one wasn’t as good.
“My priorities have changed with Lee home.” She was spinning his ring around her finger like a mouse on a wheel. “I’m sure I mentioned that.”
They both jumped as Lee’s chair scraped the floor. He stood, proffered a hand and a smile. “Great meeting you, Mark. Tell Rich we’ll catch up in a month or so when the dust settles.”
“I will. And again...welcome home.” His eyes bright with the anger of a disappointed man, Mark returned the handshake. “Good luck to you both.”
After he left, the unspoken “you’ll need it” hung in the air like cordite.
Cursing his stupidity, Lee sat down. The blows from this woman just kept coming.
He picked up his knife and fork and started eating.
“Ask me,” Jules said.
Lee added salt. “I don’t have to.”
“We dated four times,” she said. “It wasn’t serious.�
��
Did you sleep with him? He stifled the question because it wasn’t important. He would not make it important. Once he’d won a confession they were through with this sham engagement. Besides, she’d already dumped him; she owed him nothing. “Don’t let your meal get cold.” Lee tucked in with gusto, though he could have been shoveling sawdust into his mouth. “Delicious.”
“Would you like me to tell you about it?” she said quietly.
“No.” The first bite of steak caught in his throat and he washed it down with the rest of her champagne. “You dating another guy doesn’t matter in the scheme of things, honey. Not after I’ve spent nineteen months dicing daily with the big issues like mortality, whether there’s a God and what the hell I was going to use for toilet paper.”
“You are angry.”
He stopped sawing at his steak. Stupid to think he could handle a lump of fried meat anyway on his stomach. “You thought I was dead. Really, this is no different than Claire falling for Nate, right? And everyone’s cool with that.” Lee painted a reassuring smile over his resentment. “And yesterday you said yes to marrying me, so clearly I’m the winner here.”
Jules started to speak, but he laid a finger on her lips. Such warm, soft lips. Reunion fantasies with this woman had kept him alive. And he kept caring, he kept damn well caring. “We agreed on the way home yesterday that neither of us wants to revisit the past.” This explained why Jules didn’t want to talk about what—or who—she’d been doing. “All that matters is the future.”
And a little frontier justice. For his own sake he had to speed this up, tighten the screws on her conscience. And he knew just the way to do it.
CHAPTER TEN
BY THE TIME the cab dropped them off, weighted down with shopping bags, a block from her house, Jules was mentally and emotionally exhausted. Through the rest of their lunch Lee had been charming, attentive and relentless in discussing their future.
When he’d asked how she felt about Tahiti as a honeymoon destination she’d mentioned he’d missed news of a major cyclone in French Polynesia, then segued to current events for ten minutes, ending with a potted history of infighting within the UN.
Propping his elbows on the table, he’d gazed into her eyes. “I hope our kids get on together. You do want a few, don’t you?”
“That reminds me,” she’d continued doggedly, “the Commonwealth family celebrated the Queen’s Jubilee last year.”
“Sixty years on the throne, amazing.” Lee tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, casually caressing the lobe with his thumb. “Where shall we retire to?”
If he didn’t look as exhausted as she felt, Jules would have worried about being alone with him.
He turned from paying the taxi driver. “I forgot to tell you, we’re out of milk.”
“Are you sure?” She could have sworn she’d seen some in the fridge.
“Positive.” He confiscated the shopping bags she carried and added them to his own. “You nip to the corner store and I’ll take these home.”
“Okay,” she said to his departing back. Come to think of it, she could do with the respite. Slowly, Jules walked to the store, pausing outside to pat the owner’s snuffly Pekingese. It was doing her head in trying to filter her words and actions through how Lee would review them once she told him the truth.
Her cell rang and she checked the display before answering. “Hi, Nate.”
“Hi, Jules. Listen, the guys and I were talking. How about I organize some security outside your house for a couple of days to hold off the press?”
“That’s thoughtful, but—”
“On us, if it’s the money stopping you.”
His concern touched her. Except she needed to wean herself off friendships gained under false pretences. “Let’s see how the No Press sign works first...but thanks.”
“How are you doing keeping Lee in bed?” he asked, then chuckled. “That wasn’t meant the way it sounded.”
“We just spent the afternoon shopping,” she admitted guiltily. The Peke barked; she crouched to pat her again.
“You went to the doctor though?”
“He won’t see one. I’ll insist if his condition changes, but he’s got some color and—”
“And laying down the law doesn’t work with him. I’m not blaming you, Jules. Remember I spent five days with that stubborn bastard. If he hadn’t been a captive, I’d suggest locking him in his room.”
She fondled the dog’s ears. “On the upside he changed his mind about rejoining the gym. He’s rented equipment for home instead.”
“He shouldn’t be bloody exercising at all,” Nate said in frustration. “If you think he’s pushing himself too hard, phone me.” She was silent. “Jules, it’s not disloyal to Lee to ask for backup. We’re all on the same side.”
Until the truth came out. Upon Lee’s death, she’d needed to connect with his family and friends. She’d ended up part of their tribe, almost despite herself.
“Okay,” she conceded, standing. “So is Claire handy?” She needed her best friend’s advice on the Mark/Lee debacle.
“She’s taken Lewis to soccer practice. Um, anything I can help with?” His male reluctance made Jules smile and brought a lump to her throat. She was going to miss them so much.
“No, it’s fine.” To her horror, her voice caught in her throat. “I’m fine,” she finished strongly. She wouldn’t tell Lee she’d met Mark through these guys matchmaking—it was the least she could do for them. Come to think of it, if she discussed the situation with Claire, Claire would tell Nate and he’d feel compelled to fess up. Better to keep today’s encounter to herself.
“I could get her to phone later,” Nate suggested.
“No, don’t worry. It’s not important.” She bent to give the dog a final pat and was rewarded with a lick. “I’d better go.... Lee’s waiting.”
“I was thinking,” Nate said casually. “How about we bring dinner over Thursday? And yeah, I know we’re giving Lee space, but that’s a moot point with the press camped outside.”
Oh, God. Yes. Please. “But the boat launch is coming up and—”
“Great,” Nate said. “Expect us at six.”
Her local grocery store owner, Rajesh, applauded when she walked in. He pointed proudly to the diminishing pile of newspapers on the newsstand. The kiss photo covered half the front page. It took Jules ten minutes to break away from his congratulations and that was because an incoming text gave her an excuse.
Outside again, she checked it. I’m sorry. Acted like dick. Got jealous. Mark
“You think?” With a disgusted snort, Jules started walking, the two-liter plastic milk jug chill against her fingers. Halfway home, her sense of natural justice prompted her to send a reply. Sorry, too. Should have phoned re: engagement.
Jules pocketed her cell. It was sunny, Lee was alive and she’d helped him today. It was enough. She paused to sniff a hedge of flowering jasmine and smiled at a schoolkid who pedaled by, his skinny legs turning like windmills.
Her neighborhood seemed a foreign country during the weekday hours. Chattering kids piled out of the local school, dragging bags behind them, and doors slammed on four-wheel drives as mothers did pickups.
As a child, she’d always arrived to an empty house, if she was lucky and Mum was single. There’d be a chore list on the counter, which she’d work through before doing homework. Mum would arrive at seven from her job as a supervisor at the local superm
arket and they’d eat together. Those were the happy times.
In the alley, she wrinkled her nose at the stench of a neighbor’s bin and unlatched her gate. Next door’s cat was sunning itself on her back step and, tucking the milk bottle under one arm, she scooped it up for a pat.
Were those voices inside the house? Jules frowned. If the press had muscled their way in... Dumping the milk on the counter, she followed the sound to the living room and came to a dead halt in the doorway.
Cables crisscrossed the living room carpet and furniture had been moved to make room for the dozen or so people milling with TV and digital cameras, notepads and microphones. “What the hell’s going on?” she demanded.
Lee looked up from the seat in the bay window. Under the hot lights, the blond in his hair glinted and the hollows of his cheeks stood out despite his facial growth. He smiled. “Here’s my girl!”
* * *
LEE WATCHED AS the tabby in Jules’s arms scrabbled and dashed for freedom. His fiancée looked as if she wanted to follow. Excellent.
“What’s going on?” she repeated, ducking to evade a boom. “Why are these reporters inside?”
Rising from the couch, Lee steered Jules into the hall. “I decided to give a press conference. A one-off in return for being left in peace. Maybe there’ll still be the odd freelancer snapping pictures but we can live with that.”
“I guess that makes sense,” she said doubtfully.
“Great.” He tugged her forward.
“Wait!” Jules balked. “This is about you, not me.”
“I don’t want to discuss my captivity so I figured we’d focus on the happily ever after part.”
