Meagan smiled politely. “Thank you, Camilla. And I must say that married life suits you. You’re looking well.”
Jorja’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah, you’re a real Cinderella story. I guess living it up has put a glow in your cheeks.” She shrugged her narrow shoulders, encased in beaded, sheer black fabric. “I bet it beats having to scrub pots and pans.”
Camilla held her stare, refusing to back down. How dare the bitch run her down in her own home. “Not everyone is born with a silver spoon in their mouth,” she said with quiet dignity.
She didn’t hang around to hear the backlash. Her head held high, she continued with her rounds, ensuring all her guests were comfortable and aware that dinner would soon be served.
Darla, exquisite in a flowing chiffon dress and heels that put another three inches to her petite 5’0” was regaling Emma about her latest failed date. Camilla couldn’t help but overhear some of the conversation.
“And as if laughing at his own bad jokes wasn’t enough, he snorted his red wine all over my cream dress. I was mortified!”
Emma pressed a hand to her mouth, her pale eyebrows arcing above wide hazel eyes. “Oh my God, what a disaster. Again. You really are a magnet for the wrong men.”
Darla nodded and sighed, tendrils of short auburn hair caressing her slender nape. “I’ve resigned myself to life without a man in it.”
Camilla tuned out the conversation when the doorbell pealed, alerting her to more guests. Odd, everyone was here and accounted for. The event organiser answered the door, then led a delivery man toward her. Camilla clapped a hand to her mouth at the sight of a dozen long-stemmed red roses. The woman all ceased their chatter, every eye on her.
“Mrs Jackson?” the man asked politely.
“Yes.”
“I have a delivery here from a Drake Jackson.”
The man handed them over and took his leave, along with the beaming organiser—her job was done.
Camilla removed the envelope from inside.
“What does it say?” Willow asked.
She cleared her throat and read the card out loud. “To my wife, the love of my life. May your night be incredible…and our trip around the world unforgettable.” She bit into her bottom lip, barely able to take in the heartfelt rhyme. But surely Drake didn’t mean the latter? He was an extremely busy man, his business his whole life. Well, aside from her.
Willow craned her neck. “There’s tickets inside.”
“Oh my God,” she breathed, pulling them out and holding them aloft to properly scan them. So it was true.
Willow gasped. “Wow. Round the world tickets for two.” She looked at Camilla with rounded eyes. “Has Drake been taken over by aliens? Because this is not the man I know.”
Her heart thundering in her chest, Camilla turned away from all the stares and murmured to no one in particular, “I need to put these roses in water. Excuse me for a moment.”
She needed a minute alone. Time in which to absorb this latest surprise from Drake. He’d just put a tick beside one of her biggest dreams. And of course she could re-enrol at university on their return home. And then…in a year or two, maybe she’d seriously reconsider her stance on motherhood.
The smile that curled her lips as she returned to the dinner, and the ladies waiting for her, was genuine and warm. She didn’t need to compare herself to any one of them, didn’t need to compete. They all had their flaws, all had their own insecurities.
Only one thing in life was certain. Love was all that mattered.
Camilla
by Mel Teshco
Epilogue
Camilla disconnected the call on her mobile, and then dropped the phone onto the round aluminium table. Nausea crept up her throat as she curled her fingers around the rails of the balcony and stared unseeingly at the distant Eiffel Tower.
“Pregnant,” she whispered, grappling to digest the news.
But a blood test couldn’t lie.
In hindsight it all made so much sense. She’d suffered from a mild bout of food poisoning in Thailand six weeks earlier, and when her condition had seemingly returned a few days ago, her husband, Drake, had set up an appointment with a Parisian doctor.
A knot tightened in her belly. The doctor had rung to give her the ‘good’ news, believing she would be thrilled, but very little had penetrated the numbness within.
At least Drake would be elated. Ecstatic. Over the fucking moon.
The apartment door slammed, and she sucked in a steadying breath at her husband’s arrival. With the glass door open onto the balcony, he yelled out a greeting.
“Hi, honey! Sorry I took so long but I loaded up on the things that might tempt your taste buds.”
Bags rustled as he placed the groceries onto the kitchen counter inside their rented holiday apartment. The refrigerator hummed a little louder as he opened its door, before his muffled voice continued, “The food here is amazing. I bought croissants with lemon filling, some baguettes with that creamy Bordier butter you love, and half a dozen cheeses.”
She couldn’t help but smile. Whether she was sick or healthy Drake loved to spoil her, their holiday together only emphasised his pampering. Drake might have surrendered control of his electronics empire for their twelve-month world trip, but he’d enjoyed their travels as much as she did.
She sensed him behind her even before his footfall sounded on the balcony. She’d always been scarily attuned to him, and vice-versa, and nothing would change that. Not even impending parenthood.
He placed his arms around her waist, his hands interlinking over her still flat belly. She exhaled slowly, the numbness that had stolen over her earlier slipping away at his touch and at the thought of their baby growing in her womb.
Drake’s breath was warm on her scalp when he murmured throatily, “I also bought a bottle of red from a renowned vineyard just North of—”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
He paused, and then pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Still not feeling well, ma chérie?”
Her smile deepened. With each new country he’d learned a smattering of phrases in another language to voice his endearments. His French was definitely the most romantic.
A pity the seriousness of the situation negated the gesture.
She cleared her throat. “I’ve been better.”
His whole body stiffened behind her, his hands tightening around her. He let loose with a long, slow breath, but she’d be stupid not to realise how much he hated that his money, and his love for her, couldn’t guarantee her good health. “I’ll ring the doctor and see if those results are in.”
“No.” She leaned fully against him, her back to his front, luxuriating for a moment in the utter safety of his arms before she answered. “There’s no need.” She sighed, and then turned before she looked up, loving the concern in his brilliant stare and the tightness of his too-kissable lips. “I just spoke to him.”
“And?” he prompted, the slight creases at the corner of his eyes deepening.
“I’m not sick twenty-four hours of the day. Just…in the mornings.” His stare flashed instant awareness, even before she added weakly, “I’m pregnant.”
As if not quite believing his one wish was coming true, he uttered, “But you are on the pill?”
She nodded. “Which was next to useless after my bout of food poisoning.” She’d thrown up everything but her tonsils.
He whooped loudly and lifted her in his arms to whirl her around, his careful hold making her even more achingly aware of her ‘condition’.
“Holy shit, a baby! We’re having a baby!” He sobered at seeing her face. “Are you okay with it? I mean, I know you didn’t want to be a mother this soon.”
“I don’t know what I feel or think,” she admitted. “It’s just so…unexpected.”
“It’s fate,” he announced with a wide grin. “It’s meant to be. We’re going to be a family.”
She nodded, still so overwhelmed. “I guess we a
re.”
He clasped her chin, his thumb gently brushing back and forth. “I don’t expect you to give up your degree or any of your dreams. I intend to be a hands-on kind of dad. Hell, my companies are almost running themselves these days anyway, and I can delegate most anything else.”
The knot in her belly loosened as a little as her tension dissolved. She gave him a smile. “Do you really mean that?”
“You know I never say something I don’t mean.” He cocked his head to the side. “And you know you’ll be a great mom, right?”
She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “I don’t know. I had no little brothers or sisters, no nieces or nephews. I’m clueless with kids.”
“You’ll be a natural. And if you’re not, that’s okay too. We’ll learn this parenting stuff together.”
Her chest fairly ached, her vision swimming with tears as she struggled not to get all choked up. “I think I just might be the luckiest woman in the world.”
No one would disagree. A gorgeous husband who’d fly her to the moon and back if she wanted; the same man whose wealth and power meant nothing to him in the face of the news he was going to be a dad.
“Babe, I fucking love you,” he said huskily, as if he didn’t remind her every single day. “I’m the lucky one. I’ve been blessed in every single way.”
He wrapped her in his arms and she melted against him with a contented sigh. Whatever the future, she’d face it with her husband standing by her side.
THE END
EPISODE 11
Darla
TRACEY O’HARA
For David.
Acknowledgements
Thank you to Kate Cuthbert who asked me to do this wonderful project. Thanks to all the other Secret Confessions authors who said yes to taking part. And a HUGE thanks to Danielle Kendall who kept me sane and helped me every step of the way.
Darla
Enough. Darla Thomas slammed the lid down on the laptop with a little more force than she’d intended. She was done. Maybe a commitment ceremony with her vibrator was in order. A much better prospect than another of the disastrous dates she’d met through the Exclusively Yours dating agency so far.
Truth be told—it wasn’t only the agency’s fault. The men just weren’t doing it for her. None of them had that indefinable thing she was looking for. Shit. She didn’t even know what it was she was looking for. The good-looking ones were far too self-involved to possibly care about anything but themselves. The accomplished ones were just too wrapped up in their own achievements. And the charming ones…well, she’d had enough charming to last her a lifetime, thanks to ex-husband, Julian.
Darla sighed. It’d been a long day. Up before dawn to go see how the new yearlings were settling in. A massive storm had hit Sydney last night and while there was no damage to the Sonny Jim stables she owned with her brother Tom, some of the new horses were thoroughly spooked. Then she’d gone down to Randwick to help put a couple of the three year olds through their paces ahead of the Australian Derby next month. Add to that the picture of her ex-husband and his new—very pregnant—wife in the society pages this morning, and…
She needed a glass of wine or a nice warm bath to soak her aching muscles. Better still, a glass of wine in a nice warm bath. Perfect. Decision made, she padded her way into the kitchen and pulled out one of the several bottles of chilled sparkling Veuve Clicquot she’d ordered in for the Diamond Dinner Club event this coming Thursday.
It was her turn to host the night of great food, fine wine, and elitist bitching. Another night of entertaining the girls with her latest man-tastrophe exploits. Virginia would be over in a couple of hours to go through the catering menu for the Double D dinner. While Virginia preferred to cook when she hosted the women’s evening, Darla was never all that great in the kitchen, hardly able to boil an egg—let alone pull together a three course menu. Besides, Virginia had come across this new caterer she wanted to try out before hiring for an Exclusively Yours mixer. Darla was only too happy to offer up her hosting night. If they could make the women of the Double D Club happy, then they could handle anything.
Darla stripped off her riding gear and lowered herself into the tub of warm water. The lavender-scented soap suds tickled and licked her skin like a lover’s kiss as she reached for the chilled glass and took a sip of the sparkling champagne.
Ah, better. Exactly what she needed after a day like today. Let it go. Stop thinking and allow the bath to do its job. Right now nothing is more important. Not Julian, not dinner, and definitely not those Exclusively Yours loser dates. What she needed was a real man. Someone to come in and sweep her off her feet and take her to paradise instead of talking about social conquests, financial investments, or the effect the economy was having on the Dow Jones. She needed a real, smoking-hot red-blooded man.
An image of Hunter Davis popped unexpectedly into her head. Now there was a hunk of male flesh she could really sink her teeth into. Too bad she wasn’t his type. From what she’d seen, leggy blonde model types seemed more his speed, not short auburn-haired divorcées. Besides, he was on more friendly terms with Julian than her. In fact, they’d barely spoken to each other since her ex-husband had moved out.
But man, oh man, did he have a body she could wrap herself around, and some. Those broad shoulders and sculptured muscular arms. Those tight washboard abs, resulting in the most perfect six-pack she’d ever seen. He could sweep her off her feet any day. Both literally and figuratively. His 6’ frame would have no problem with her 5’2” slenderness.
Her nipples hardened at the fantasy of him carrying her to bed. She brushed her palm across the tight nubs and sent a tingle straight to her core. It’d been so long since she’d felt a man’s touch. Just the mere thought of it made the apex between her legs throb with something akin to pain. That’s how long it had been.
Well…she’d taken this bath to relax. If she couldn’t have the real thing, she could damn well fantasise about it.
A few days ago Darla had seen him from the balcony of her harbourside home as he got out of his pool next door. He’d wiped a towel over that muscular body, beads of water sliding over sun-kissed skin and golden blond hair, darker when wet, framing his model-worthy face. The perfect package, all elements working to make him more seductive than sin. If only real life had slow motion like they did in the movies.
Darla slid her hands down over her stomach towards her—
The doorbell rang, snatching away her daydream.
“Dammit,” she cursed out loud. “Can’t I catch a freakin’ break?”
Virginia had a bad habit of turning up at the most inconvenient times. If only she could’ve waited just a few more minutes. Ten, five, two probably would’ve gotten the job done. Darla was so wound up it wouldn’t have taken much to send her over the brink.
She sighed and climbed out of the tub, wrapping a soft white towelling bathrobe around herself before padding downstairs.
The doorbell rang again.
“I’m coming,” she called with more than a tad of irritation as she tied the belt on her robe. She never could develop the knack of making people wait.
“Virginia, couldn’t you have…” Everything she was going to say flew right out of her head as she saw who actually stood on her doorstep
Hunter freaking Davis.
Holy crap. Her masturbatory fantasy was standing before her holding a bottle of red wine. Heat burned her cheeks. His eyes raked her robe-clad body and made her wonder if he could sense her heightened state. It sent more throbbing heat to her girly bits.
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything important.” His deep American accent did strange things to her insides. Years in Australia had done nothing to dent that slow, southern drawl.
“No,” she said quickly, the throb in her groin kicking up a notch. “I mean—I was just taking a bath—but please, come in.”
He stepped over the threshold, squeezing past so that his body brushed hers ever so slightly as he handed her the
bottle. “I brought this as an apology.”
She glanced at the label to stop her heart from jumping out of her throat. “Greenock Creek Roennfeldt Road Shiraz. Very nice. And 1998 too. But what do you need to apologise for?”
“The storm damage.”
She frowned and shook her head. “Storm damage?”
“Last night. It brought down that old gum tree in the corner of my place onto the wall between our properties, and I think there may be some damage to your pool house.”
“Oh,” she said, shocked. “I’ve been out all day and haven’t noticed any damage.”
He nodded. “I tried earlier. Look, it’s probably a bit late to inspect the damage now, so why don’t I come back tomorrow.” His nearness suggested he was in no hurry to leave. In fact, his body language told her how much he wanted to stay.
She smiled up at him. “Since you’re here, why don’t we crack this bottle and talk anyway.”
Please, God, say yes.
“Sure,” he said with a slow grin. If he kept on like that he might not make it out of there unmolested.
Darla covered her turmoil with a smile. “Make yourself at home in the living room and I’ll get a couple of glasses.”
She padded barefoot and self-conscious to the bar area of her lavish open lounge. The room flowed through to the entertainment area on the balcony and the floor to ceiling glass tri-fold wall was open to the warm night air. Last night’s rain made everything smell fresh and new. A large tree in front of her balcony kept her private from any prying eyes, but didn’t detract from the twilight view over the harbour. Just as well the storm hadn’t blown that down too.
He sat on the long white leather sofa and watched her as she moved around the lounge room. She grabbed some glasses from the bar, tucked a corkscrew under her arm and as she joined him on the sofa, her robe fell open a little to reveal her thigh. Hunter’s gaze dropped to her bare skin. Instead of feeling uncomfortable by the obvious hunger in his expression, she found herself turned on. Again her cheeks heated with a blush, but she left the robe as it was. She’d never been so… brazen, and it was only a bit of leg.
Secret Confessions: Sydney Housewives - Extended Edition Page 36
