She could too easily imagine how deeply Michael—no, Mark’s—wife loved him, could imagine how hurt the other woman would be if she ever found out.
Emily’s sense of gloom dived even deeper when she returned to the kitchen and saw the blinking light on her mobile phone.
Wincing at the possibilities, she clicked on her message bank and discovered five—count them, five—new text messages from people in Wandabilla.
Normally, she would try to reply, to at least thank these people for their concern, even though they weren’t genuinely close friends but mainly curious gossipers.
Today, however, there were also three voice messages from Michael-slash-Mark, and his first message was full of apologies and entreaties, begging her to ring him back.
Hearing his voice brought a fresh slug of misery and anger, and Emily almost hurled the phone across the room.
She might have done that, actually, if she wasn’t worried that the crash would wake Jude. Her gaze flashed to his novel, Thorn in the Flesh, sitting on the breakfast tray, and she remembered Morgan, Jude’s tough heroine.
Emily needed to be like her. From now on.
Smiling, she picked up the phone and deleted every single message without responding.
It felt good.
Very good, actually.
CHAPTER THREE
Mid-afternoon…
EMILY had been out to a bookshop, where she’d bought two more of Jude’s books, and she was stretched out on the sofa, deeply absorbed in a thrilling mystery set in the wilds of The Kimberley Coast when she heard Jude’s door open. Shortly after, she heard the sound of the shower in the bathroom.
Good. He must be feeling better. She was surprised by how pleased she felt about this. She even found her attention wandering from the book as she waited for Jude to emerge from the bathroom. It was suddenly important to make sure that he really was OK.
When he finally came into the living room, freshly shaved, hair damp from the shower and smelling pleasantly of lemon-scented soap, he was no longer frowning or squinting with pain, and it was almost impossible to tell that he’d been unwell.
‘Feeling better?’ Emily asked with a jolly-nurse smile.
‘Much better, thanks.’ He seemed keen to shrug her concern aside. ‘Actually, I’m heading out now.’
It was crazy to be instantly disappointed. Why should she miss Jude? She’d never been a person who was needy for company.
Annoyed with herself, she held up the book she was reading. ‘I’m really enjoying this, by the way.’
Jude saw the cover and his eyes glinted with amusement. ‘Don’t tell me I’ve acquired a fan?’
‘Perhaps,’ she said airily. ‘You’ve done a good job with Ellie. She has hang-ups like the rest of us, but she wouldn’t dare let them show. I like that about her. She’s classy. And I love that she’s blonde and leggy and carries a pistol in her handbag.’
‘Glad you approve.’ Hands sunk deep in the pockets of his jeans, Jude bowed with mock solemnity, then turned and headed for the door. ‘Don’t worry about dinner,’ he called over his shoulder. ‘It’s my turn to cook tonight.’
Emily was about to remind him that he didn’t like to cook when he looked back and she caught the ghost of a twinkle in his eye.
‘How about I bring home Thai?’ he said, then quickly disappeared before she could answer.
The front door closed behind him, and the apartment felt weirdly empty.
* * *
It was quite late, almost dark, when Jude arrived back bearing the promised tubs of takeaway Thai. They ate on the balcony, watching the last of the sunset over distant Mount Coot-tha.
‘I was wondering if you’d like to see a movie tonight,’ he asked as they ate. ‘It’ll cheer us both up.’
‘Do we need cheering up?’
He sent her a measuring glance. ‘Isn’t that why you’re here?’
‘Well, yes,’ she admitted. ‘But I’m not your responsibility, Jude. Don’t feel obliged to entertain me.’
‘I could do with cheering, too. That blasted headache left me feeling a bit out of sorts.’
‘That’s not surprising.’ Emily couldn’t shake off the lingering suspicion that there was something else, something more deeply serious that was troubling him. She didn’t know him well enough to ask, so she said instead, ‘I suppose you’d prefer to see a thriller?’
‘Would you mind?’ He offered her an apologetic shrug. ‘I’ve never been much good with chick flicks.’
‘That surprises me, actually. I thought you must watch them and study them. You write such lovely romantic scenes in your books.’
‘Do I?’ He looked suddenly caught out, almost guilty.
‘But don’t worry,’ Emily assured him. ‘I’m happy to watch a thriller. I’m certainly not in the mood for romance.’
This time when their gazes met, she thought she caught a different expression—a momentary flash in Jude’s handsome grey eyes that caught her completely on the back foot. Not at all what she’d expected from a gay man. For a moment, she’d gained the unlikely impression that he was very much aware of her—as a woman.
Heaven knew she’d read that message in men’s eyes often enough in the past. But surely she was being fanciful now? Of all the guys she’d spent time with, Jude was safe.
To her relief, he said simply, ‘A thriller it is then. There’s a really good one that just came out last week. And it will be my shout. After all, I get to count it as research.’
* * *
It was certainly pleasant to get out of the house, to wrap up and walk the frosty streets, and it was nice to know she could enjoy a man’s company without any danger of breaking her heart.
The movie, as Jude had predicted, was an exciting, edge-of-the-seat thriller, and it soon worked its magic. For close to two hours Emily almost stopped thinking about Michael.
Joy.
‘I definitely feel better for having seen that,’ she said as they left the cinema.
Jude raised a questioning eyebrow. ‘Do you want to prolong the fun? Are you in a rush to get home, or would you like to find somewhere for coffee?’
Going back to the apartment would mean returning to her solitary bedroom and her solitary one-track thoughts.
‘I’d love to stay out for a bit longer,’ she admitted. ‘I’m glad you seem to have completely recovered.’
‘So am I.’ He smiled, but the effect was spoiled by the flicker of a shadow in his eyes. ‘I’m fine now.’
Emily wished she hadn’t seen that flicker. For a fanciful second it had looked like the shadow of a falling axe. She wished she could shake off the sense that something was really troubling Jude, and she wondered if he was trying to distract himself, just as she was. It was probably a good thing she’d agreed to stay out.
They found a snug table in the back corner of a crowded coffee shop. Emily ordered hot chocolate, which came with tiny pink and white marshmallows for melting, and Jude ordered tea—Lapsang Souchong, which arrived in a ruby-glass pot, smelling smoky and inexplicably masculine.
‘You drink the same tea as your hero, Raff,’ she teased as she scooped a sticky blob of marshmallow from her mug.
Jude smiled. ‘Strange coincidence, isn’t it?’
As they sipped their warm drinks, they talked about the movie, debating the significance of some of the plot twists.
‘The scriptwriters certainly knew all about crime and the underbelly of society,’ Emily suggested. Across the lamplit table, she narrowed her eyes at Jude. ‘So do you, actually. It shows in your books. How do you do it? How do you get inside the mind of a hardened criminal?’
‘I research,’ he answered simply.
‘Yes, I guessed that, but h
ow? Who do you talk to?’
‘Hardened criminals.’
He said this so dryly and with such a poker face that, momentarily, she almost fell for it.
Then, matching his dry tone, she replied. ‘So you’re telling me it’s not safe to associate with you.’
This time his eyes twinkled. ‘Touché. Of course, you’re safe.’
There was a moment, as their gazes met across the table, when Emily felt a kind of woozy warmth that was totally unfitting.
‘Seriously,’ she said abruptly, shaking off the feeling. ‘I’m interested in how you make your stories so real.’
‘Seriously,’ Jude said, ‘I have contacts with the police and in the military. I’ve grilled them mercilessly about their work. I’ve spent full days with a firearms instructor, and another day observing Army commando training. I’ve even taken part, so I know what it feels like to be cuffed, down on the ground and immobile while a tactical unit performs a mock hostage rescue.’
With a smile, he said, ‘And now I’ve met a bank manager, and that could be very handy, too. I can imagine all sorts of scenarios involving a heist and a beautiful banking boss.’
Heat flamed in Emily’s cheeks, and she pressed her hands against the patches of warmth, hoping to hide them. She couldn’t believe she was blushing simply because Jude had implied she was beautiful. Of all the ridiculous reactions.
Why should she blush over this man’s completely non-sexual assessment of her looks?
To cover her silly reaction, she made a joke against herself. ‘Just my luck, one of the robbers will turn out to be a former boyfriend.’ Then, quickly, she steered the subject safely away from herself. ‘What about your current book? Where’s it set?’
‘The Gold Coast. But I’m beginning to think it’s a bit too close to home. I prefer more distant settings.’
‘Why? Does your imagination work better at a distance?’
He looked at her with surprise. ‘Yes, I think it does.’ Then he frowned. ‘Are you pretending to be interested, or are you genuinely curious?’
‘I’m genuine. Honestly. Why do you ask?’
Jude shook his head. ‘I was just wondering… I wouldn’t have expected a bank manager to be interested in fiction.’
‘You’re stereotyping,’ she accused with rather more iciness than she actually felt.
‘Yeah. It’s a failing.’ Jude’s unrepentant gaze flickered over her and then swept around the crowded café and the chattering customers gathered in the booths. ‘I know it’s not polite to mention this, but your clothes seem very—or should I say—extremely fashionable. Not quite what I’d expected from a little place like Wandabilla.’
‘Is this another example of your narrow views?’
‘I’m afraid it is.’ He confessed this without a hint of remorse. ‘But I’m genuinely curious. Is it a status thing?’
‘I…I suppose it might be.’ Emily hadn’t been asked this question before, but there were a lot of wealthy farmers who conducted their business at her bank and classy clothes had become her armour. For a young woman to hang on to a position of power, she had to win respect any way she could.
At least, this was what she’d told herself, but she sometimes wondered if her efforts to acquire a perfect career and a perfect wardrobe were compensation for her lack of a perfect relationship.
‘So where do you shop?’ Jude asked. ‘Do you travel to the city?’
‘Not often. I do almost all my shopping online.’ She gave a little laugh. ‘I love the Internet. If I ever give up my current job, I think I’ll develop some kind of business I can run online.’
Thinking about the Internet, however, brought back sickening memories of Michael-slash-Mark.
Emily wasn’t sure how long she sat there, sunk in miserable memories.
Eventually, she heard Jude’s voice.
‘Are you OK?’
He asked this solicitously, just as Alex might have, and she couldn’t help answering honestly. ‘I’m very mad with myself for wasting a whole year on a relationship that was never going anywhere.’
‘It’s not easy to see through a practised conman. They’re usually consummate charmers.’ Jude’s face was surprisingly fierce. ‘My father was like that—having affairs all over the place.’
His hands were clenched into fists on the tabletop. ‘And then my mother punished him by having revenge affairs.’
He looked so upset, Emily stopped thinking about her own worries. She was imagining Jude growing up with unhappy parents. At least her problems hadn’t started until she’d left home.
Their conversation, she realised, had suddenly gone deeper. Jude’s grey eyes were as hard as granite, as if just thinking about his parents changed him completely.
‘Have you ever talked to Alex about this?’ she asked.
Jude looked startled. ‘No.’
‘It’s just that he’s very good at laying ghosts to rest.’
‘Yes, I can imagine he would be.’ Then Jude gave a shake, as if ridding himself of unwanted memories.
They lapsed into silence and Emily finished off her chocolate. ‘I’m sure I have a moustache.’ With an embarrassed smile, she reached for a paper napkin.
‘Here, let me.’
To her surprise, Jude took the napkin from her and dabbed at her upper lip. The pressure of his fingers so close to her mouth felt strangely intimate and he was looking at her with an intensity that stole her breath.
After what felt like an age, he blinked like someone coming out of a trance, then dropped the napkin onto his saucer. ‘What were we talking about?’
Emily’s mind had gone blank. To her dismay, she found herself thinking how attractive he was, and how the message in his grey eyes had made her feel strangely knife-edgy and weightless. And there was a vibe between them, an impossible awareness that was very confusing.
Surely her imagination was playing tricks on her? There must be something wrong with her. After her debacle with Michael, she couldn’t possibly be interested in any man for ages. Right now, a life of celibacy had huge appeal and, anyway, Jude wasn’t even available.
She made a flustered, helpless gesture, hoping to break the strange spell that seemed to have fallen over her, and promptly knocked the pepper pot. Next moment she was sneezing, then floundering in her bag for tissues.
Fortunately, after she’d finished blowing her nose, Jude suggested it was time to leave. Emily gratefully agreed.
Outside, it was chillier than ever. She turned up her collar and sunk her hands deep into her warm coat pockets, and hoped that the cold night air would clear her head of nonsense. She walked beside Jude in sober silence, wondering what on earth he was thinking. Had he noticed her silly reaction?
They didn’t talk on the way back, for which she was grateful, and when she stole glimpses in Jude’s direction, he seemed to be frowning and thoughtful. So it was a surprise when they reached the apartment that he turned to her with a warm smile.
‘Thanks for a great night.’
‘Thank you,’ she said politely. ‘It was a good idea to go out tonight. Just what I needed.’
‘Same here.’
Despite the formality of their exchange, they stood in the hallway, neither one moving, as if they were trapped again by a mysterious spell. But the last thing—the very last thing—Emily expected was that Jude would lean in and kiss her.
On the lips.
And yet he did just that.
Before she had time to think, he was holding her by the shoulders and he was kissing her effortlessly and expertly. So expertly that she forgot to be shocked at first. She was seduced by the enticing smell of him and the warm, blissful pressure of his lips. Instinctively, she closed her eyes and gave in to the deliciousness of
the moment.
An inappropriate stretch of time elapsed before she remembered that this kiss was wrong.
Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong!
For heaven’s sake.
She sprang back in shocked horror.
How had this happened? Had her brain short-circuited? Stunned, she pressed her fingers to her tingling lips. ‘That was…unexpected.’
Understatement of the year.
‘I’m sorry,’ Jude said. ‘I couldn’t help it. You’re so lovely.’
‘And…’ She gasped as the bald truth became obvious. ‘And you’re not gay.’
‘No,’ he said softly. ‘I’m not.’
Gathering her dignity and her anger about her like a protective cape, she glared at him. ‘You conned me, Jude. You pretended to be safe and uninterested in women. You let me assume you were like Alex, so I was lulled into a false sense of security.’
‘I’m sorry, Emily. I—’
She cut him off with an angry cry, then stamped her foot. ‘I should have known that every male on this planet is a scheming, cheating rat.’
Anger and despair swept through her. She was reliving Michael’s deception. She’d trusted Michael utterly.
Now, she’d trusted Jude to be a safe, uncomplicated friend, but he was as bad as every other man.
Beyond furious, she raised her hand and slapped him hard.
Whirling around, she marched down the hallway to her room, kicking the door savagely behind her. Bang! Slam!
* * *
Jude winced as Emily’s door crashed shut.
Good one, Marlowe.
What on earth had possessed him to kiss Emily? Had a kind of madness overcome him?
It was his only explanation.
He’d spent an entire evening in her company and she’d been lovely and amusing and interesting—in other words, utterly enchanting. On the walk home, the crisp night air had heightened her loveliness even further, adding stars to her eyes and colour to her cheeks and lips, and he’d been spellbound. Totally. He hadn’t been able to resist stealing one little kiss.
Falling for Mr. Mysterious Page 4
