I could see now that lovemaking with Jack had been overwhelming because the sensations had been multiple and constantly moving. He’d surprised me by knowing erogenous zones I’d never discovered, and Danny hadn’t bothered to look for. And he’d always seemed to be doing several things at once. With only one working hand, I stroked my inner wrist against my nipples but it wasn’t the same as his hot mouth against either sensitive area.
Nothing was as good, and in the end when my persistent stroking drove me to orgasm, it was oddly hollow. My muscles still contracted, my body still shuddered, and pleasure jerked around inside my body, but it wasn’t warm, or intimate or even particularly satisfying. The sheets felt cold around me afterwards, and I had an immediate urge to put my pajamas back on.
I told myself it was just the cast—no one can do it properly one-handed. But as I lay in that cold bed, I suspected something terrible—that a single night of lovemaking had spoilt me forever.
I didn’t care about my mother’s opinion of promiscuity then. All I could think about was Jack being Shiva to my Shakti. And if he was, I was in serious trouble, because his voice over the phone told me clearly that he’d moved on. Even if I had the courage to tell him I’d changed my mind, he might not want me, and if he did, it would surely be only for a limited time, until he grew bored.
Where did that leave me?
CHAPTER TWELVE
“I think you should go out with Doug.”
I put my teacup carefully back onto its saucer and stared across the table at Louella with her blond Grace Kelly bob and classic pearls. “Doug?” I parroted back, struggling to not display my disquiet at the idea. First, Jill, asking me if I was considering her ex as an option, and now Louella.
If I was superstitious, I’d say I’ve had enough of men with D names. Fifteen years with Danny had been enough. But that was illogical, and no reason to dismiss Doug out of hand. Although, Jill’s description of her ex as Doug the Dud was stuck in my mind, much as I tried to push it out.
“He likes you.” Louella shrugged her elegant shoulders encased in a Chanel tweed jacket. “He’s a decent man who will no doubt want children. As you do.”
That was true enough, and I didn’t want to sound as if I disliked Doug. He was a nice man, but goofy rather than gorgeous—which of course led me to thinking about Jack. Again. In the end, all I could manage was a lame, “He’s Jill’s ex-boyfriend.”
Louella merely raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow and took a sip of her tea, waiting me out, but I decided to ignore her goading. Instead, I glanced around the outrageously expensive hotel she’d chosen for our high tea—making me rush into town to meet her at 9am instead of a respectable noon as I’d planned.
The room was all marble and gold trim, with sparkling chandeliers and acres of crisp white tablecloths populated by Wedgewood crockery—like an overgrown tea party. It was eighty dollars a head, and Louella had offered to pay my entry, as she’d chosen the venue. But I had pride, even if I didn’t have the bank balance to match it.
I could only hope that Jack’s insurance payout came quickly. And that led me back, naturally, to Jack and the whole issue of him awakening my libido and not being the right man to stick around and —
“Doug,” Louella said again, thankfully cutting short my endless internal chatter about Jack. “You should call him.”
“Me? Call him?”
My mother would have a fit. You didn’t call men to date them. You waited until they called you.
“He’s not a mind reader,” Louella said, unnecessarily.
“I know that. But even if I was interested, what if he said no? What if he laughed at the idea?”
I couldn’t imagine how mortified I’d be.
She raised both eyebrows this time. “Then you would be embarrassed and feel rejected but you would survive. Men do it all the time.”
I knew that. I’d just never done it myself. Danny had pursued me. I’d never asked a man on a date in my life. And damn it, I wasn’t going to. I stubbornly shook my head.
“Angela,” she said patiently, “You’re not getting any younger.” She gave my yellow floral chiffon dress a thorough inspection, making me wish I was wearing the thick yellow jacket I’d brought with me for the agent interview. I wasn’t fashionably slim like Louella, and nor did I have a wardrobe of designer clothes.
I could tell her I was already seeing someone, but she might call me on the lie and invite ‘us’ to dinner. Or I could just tell her to mind her own business—which of course I wouldn’t, because she was only suggesting the idea because she knew I wanted children with a good father. And Doug would be that. Reluctantly, I had to agree with her there.
I came back to the only excuse I had. “Jill wouldn’t like it.”
Louella’s perfect bow lips quirked down in disapproval. “It would be awkward, yes. But she wouldn’t begrudge you. She has Finn and they’ll likely have children.” I frowned some more, so she added, “You have to think of yourself.”
“I know.”
Sometimes talking to Louella was as bad as talking to my mother.
“Doug,” she said again, still staring me down. “I’m sure you’d have his phone number.”
“Probably.” We all had each other’s partners’ numbers in case of emergency, and my phone was full of old numbers, so his would certainly be there—not that I was committing to this. At all.
So it was a relief when the conversation went back to my two cats and how they were faring with Danny who still lived in “our” house until it sold. That distracted me enough to forget Doug temporarily.
After Louella had gone, however, I was in the hotel bathroom touching up my lipstick before the agent meeting when she texted me Doug’s phone number—just in case I didn’t have it—along with a message: I’ll check in with you tonight to see what he said.
I stared at her message for the longest time, wondering why I was so resistant. Doug was a lovely man, who had put up with a lot from Jill, and when she’d broken up with him, I’d been cross with her for throwing away great father material.
Was I about to do the same thing?
I needed to consider this rationally, and not be swayed by Jack’s sexual charisma. He would be gone tomorrow and my life would go on. I needed to think about my future. As a mother. With a husband. And why not Doug?
My arguments with Louella had been shallow, especially the he should call me comment, because she was right, he wasn’t a mind reader. He’d never know I was interested in him unless I rang, so I should do that.
Granted, it might be embarrassing, but after what Jack had put me through on the plane, I knew my tolerance was higher than I’d let on to Louella. If I kept the call short and breezy… I might end up with a date, which I might like. Over time that might lead to a relationship and he might propose.
Doug might end up being the father of my children. Did I want that?
Jack flashed into my mind, standing in his kitchen naked, pouring my coffee, getting me all steamed up, which would be completely inappropriate in front of children. Doug would never do that. He would be completely reliable when it came to decorum.
Jack’s reckless daring, on the other hand, might have been momentarily thrilling, but I didn’t want to live with that day-to-day, and I especially didn’t want to be constantly wondering what new thing he might do to embarrass me or our children.
So Doug would be a good choice. Because the Jacks of the world might offer great sex, but that could never be more important than family. I knew that in my heart. I also knew that Louella wanted me happy, so before I could stop myself, I clicked on the phone number she’d sent me and pressed the phone to my ear. Ten rings later it answered.
“Angela.” Doug sounded surprised to hear from me, and it was probably reckless of me to call him out of the blue. I should have texted. But…if I was honest with myself, I wouldn’t have known what to say. Phoning was better. I could make it up as I went along.
I hoped.
“Hey Doug.” I tried to sound breezy, turning away from the mirror so I didn’t have to watch myself talk to him. “Just thought I’d check in with you and make sure everything was okay. After that weekend at Louella’s…”
He laughed at that. “Yeah. It was embarrassing.” But completely not his fault that he’d had to confront Jill’s new boyfriend, when it was obvious he’d come to Sydney hoping for closure on their relationship.
I rushed on with, “But you’re okay about everything? Jill and Finn?”
“Sure. I want the best for her. And if he’s the best…” There was an awkward moment before he added, “He’s certainly got more money than me.”
I laughed at that, but not convincingly, because we both knew that money didn’t matter to Jill. She hadn’t left Doug because he was a tradesman. She’d left him because she’d been bored.
But I didn’t let that daunt me, because I had other priorities, and Doug didn’t seem boring to me. Plus, I knew he found me attractive. Jill had told me previously, and the dreadful weekend at Louella’s when all the secrets had come out, Doug had drunkenly admitted to me that he wanted to sleep with me.
Not that he’d remember that. He was well and truly sozzled by that point. Still, it gave me hope that he might be interested enough to date me. I needed some clarity on his relationships status however, so my next question was, “Have you found anyone special?”
I held my breath waiting for the answer, which seemed to take longer than it should.
“I haven’t dated since Jill left.”
Relief washed through me but I kept that out of my voice, and instead aimed for polite interest. “That’s been almost a year.”
“I know.” Pause. “I wasn’t ready before, but now that I know she’s moved on, I probably should.”
“Is there anyone you’re interested in?”
The moment the words were out, I wanted them back. He was highly unlikely to say You actually, unless he knew I was interested and available. Doug seemed shy that way. And the last thing I wanted was him saying he fancied the girl at the supermarket. That would completely curtail my plans.
But he merely said, “Nah, I haven’t thought of that. And I wouldn’t know how to look. Seems like everyone links up on the computer, but I don’t even use mine, ‘cept for invoicing and such.”
“Well, I’m in the same boat,” I said, still keeping the conversation light. “I’m not going to let what Danny did put me off men.” Or Jack for that matter. “But I’m nervous as hell. Everyone has ‘coffee dates’ nowadays and it sounds like a job interview to me!”
Doug laughed, as I’d hoped he would, and I was just about to steer the conversation toward asking him if he’d help settle my nerves with a trial run, when he said, “I’m in Sydney next weekend. Do you want to have lunch and…talk about this stuff?”
I tried to inject some surprise into my voice. “Are you? That would be great!” As if the idea would never have occurred to me. When he’d faltered mid-sentence, I’d thought he was going to say have lunch and…see if we’re a good match. But he didn’t, so maybe I was sexually attractive to him, but not his type.
Whatever, I was confident Doug wasn’t a one-night-stand kind of guy. He was relationship material, and he’d be an awesome father. The fact that we already liked each other was a great start.
I should have felt elated about that, but my internal swirl of anxiety told me I was trying too hard to convince myself.
“Saturday?”
I struggled back into the conversation. “Perfect. I can pretend to be your date and we’ll practice flirting with each other. But you have to tell me if anything I do is lame.”
He laughed at that, sounding nervous. “Flirting. Not sure I’m any good at that.”
“Then we’ll stick with compliments. Sincerity is under-rated. Women love it.”
“Okay. I can do compliments. Especially with you, Angela.”
Despite my previously light tone, I found myself blushing as I pressed the phone tighter to my ear. The moment grew awkward until I managed, “Thanks. That’s sweet.”
There was silence for another few breaths, and then he hung up.
In my ear.
I turned back to the mirror in the hotel ladies room, frowning at myself as I wondered what that could mean. Was he so nervous he couldn’t talk? Or was I putting tickets on myself. Maybe I’d pushed him too far.
The phone rang again and I swiped it without looking at the caller ID.
“Doug?”
Pause—long pause. And then a growl, “Who’s Doug?”
Jack!
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
My pulse jump-started and I suddenly felt flustered. Which was ridiculous. Jack had no claim on me. But as I clutched the phone to my ear, I acknowledged that he’d sounded surprised, as if he was my husband and he’d just found out I was talking to another man. That growl had definitely sounded possessive. And I was shocked at the knowledge that it excited me—the idea that a man could be jealous over me.
“Angela?” Not Angel Baby or Ange. Definitely serious.
“Jack,” I replied calmly, struggling to slow my pulse. “My lunch meeting was brought forward so I’m in town already, and I’m off to another appointment now. It would suit me to meet you earlier if that’s possible, around midday.”
There was silence at the other end of the phone as he assimilated the fact that I wasn’t explaining who Doug was, because—surprise—it was none of his business. But I could hear him breathing, loudly. At last he said, “Noon is fine.”
“In the lobby then.”
“Fine.” But he sounded far from fine, and as I ended the call, it made me reassess his apparent disinterest on the phone the night before. But did that change anything for me? I doubted it. If anything, his changeability only made him seem more unreliable, and that wasn’t what I wanted.
Doug was still the best choice. So I put both men out of my mind, straightened my yellow jacket which was tight in the sleeve where it covered my cast, and let myself out of the ladies’ room. I had an interview with an agent to get through, and the last thing I needed was to be distracted by thoughts of Jack.
“Angela. Come in.”
Rosie Tatts ushered me into her office, her ultra-thin frame draped in a stunning sixties apricot mini-dress with a bow on the high waist and a matching jacket. Her ridiculously high heels were two tones lighter apricot, edging into fawn. She looked impossibly glamorous from her boy-cropped lilac hair and nose piercing, to the matching mauve tattoo of a boxing kangaroo on her ankle.
She saw me staring at it and said, “Reminds the LA guys not to fuck with me.” Then she grinned a mega-watt smile and showed me to a cream chaise lounge across from a wingback chair that she angled herself into. A table with coffee and tea fixings sat between us.
The desk, where I’d imagined we’d do business, was on the other side of her huge office. The building was in Pyrmont overlooking Sydney Harbor, and I couldn’t imagine how much real estate like this would cost. She was clearly a ‘big fish’ as Finn had surmised.
I sat stiffly on the chaise opposite her and straightened my yellow jacket.
“Drink?” She poured herself a thick espresso from the retro looking coffee pot.
My stomach was so nervous I doubted I’d be able to swallow. I shook my head, straightening the skirt of my yellow floral dress. It was a comfortable temperature in Rosie’s office, so my jacket was making me sweat, especially around my cast where the sleeve was tight. But I wasn’t taking it off and displaying my ‘curvy’ figure to this pencil-slim glamazon. So I just smiled awkwardly and waited for her to speak, because I didn’t have any idea how to begin.
Finally, when she’d had a sip and put her cup down on the table, she leant back and said, “I’ve seen the videos of your performance in Belandera, and had a chat with Noah.”
That would be Noah Steele.
Sweet Shiva. Imagine being so familiar with him that you called him for a chat? I swall
owed thickly and nodded for her to continue.
“And of course,” she went on, waving a hand toward me, “I love the whole package. You’re stunning looking—” That caught me by surprise. “—and you sing like…an angel. Of course you’ve heard that before.”
An image of Jack, naked in bed beside me, flashed into my mind and I determinedly pushed it back out. “I have.” I shrugged.
We smiled at each other.
“Clichés can work for us,” she went on. “So with your connections, your talent and your looks, I’m obviously interested in representing you.” I was about to jump in and say I don’t really know Noah Steele, when she added, “However, I’d like to hear you sing first.”
“Oh. Of course.” Thankfully I sounded calm, but I totally hadn’t expected that, and it pushed every other thought out of my mind.
“Not that I’m saying the video was edited, or that Noah was lying.” Her mouth quirked, as if she was sharing an in-joke. “But I want to make up my own mind.”
“Of course,” I said again, but what else could I say? Except maybe, I’m completely unprepared. And nervous. “What would you like me to sing?”
She smiled a slow, mysterious smile. “Your favorite song.”
“My favorite song,” I parroted back. My favorite song. What was my favorite song?
“Yeah,” she leant back in her wingback chair. “What song do you love to sing most in the world?”
“Okay.” I stood and brushed down my skirt, then I realized I couldn’t stand over the top of her, so I pointed to the window and she nodded.
I walked over and stood in front of it so I was backlit, then on impulse I took my jacket off, struggling with the cast for a few seconds before I had it free and laid over the back of a chair. I felt instantly cooler, and to hell with the curves. She’d either think they were okay or she wouldn’t.
Husband Stay (Husband #2) Page 13
