by Leah Ashton
It wasn’t that big a blanket, and so when she shut her eyes it took her a long time to concentrate on anything but the man lying beside her. Despite everything they’d just said—it was impossible for her to forget, or to dismiss, their kiss.
How simple it would be to turn onto her side and reach for him, to pull him towards her and feel the delicious weight
of him.
Her whole body thrummed with the compulsion to do exactly that, even if it was only for today.
But she was determined—absolutely determined—to ignore it.
She’d made the right decision last night. The only possible one. Their conversation had only confirmed in a million different ways how right she’d been.
So she was going to lie here and only listen to the silence. Even if it killed her.
Finally—surprisingly—her thoughts did drift away from Jake.
Ever so slowly she began to realise that the silence wasn’t silent at all. Around them the mountains overflowed with noise, she just had to be perfectly quiet to hear it.
Little puffs of wind rustled the leaves of the eucalypts. Somewhere nearby she heard the muted song of a magpie, and a few minutes later the laughing call of a kookaburra.
Closer to where they lay the shrubs and trees that surrounded them would creak and sigh as something moved amongst them. Jake had said that kangaroos, echidnas and wombats lived up here so Ella decided to attribute the sounds to one or more of those animals, and not to the snakes and lizards he’d also described.
Gradually she let her body relax, and her mind empty to anything but the mountains.
It was lovely. Seriously lovely. An escape from reality. Their reality.
For about five minutes.
‘Uh, Jake?’ she said, perfectly aware she was probably breaking some sacred mountain silence code, but unable to lie still another second longer. ‘This is all very nice and everything, but...’
A laugh was her reply. A belly-deep, chest-rumbling laugh.
Ella’s eyes popped open and she rolled onto her side to face him. He’d already done the same, and he watched her with laughter in his palest blue eyes, his body still shaking with mirth.
‘But what, Ella?’ he said.
She tried to keep a straight face, not completely comfortable at being the subject of such hilarity. ‘Well,’ she said, stiffly because otherwise she’d smile, ‘it does get kind of boring after a while.’ Now her mouth curved upwards despite her best efforts. ‘Come on, you’ve got to admit that.’
He just shook his head where it rested on the arm he’d hooked beneath his neck, his bicep an impressive pillow of sorts. And he still smiled the broadest of smiles.
‘Two minutes, Ella.’
She sniffed, although her attempts at affronted displeasure fell largely flat. ‘It was at least five,’ she said haughtily.
This started his laughter all over again, and before she knew it she was laughing too, laughing because she had the attention span of a gnat, laughing because the dogs started barking, laughing because she’d just walked up the side of a mountain, and laughing because she was lying in the sun next to Jake. And he was laughing with her.
It took ages, but eventually their laughter morphed from wildly raucous to that hiccupping type where just as you thought you were done a little burst of laughter would break free, as if not quite ready for the world to be serious again.
As they had that day in the street. And as they had probably a hundred times before.
But, then, even that ended. And they were just two people, looking at each other—grinning at each other—across a blanket. Alone.
Ella looked down at where her right hand lay, curled and relaxed on the blanket. Not even a foot away was Jake’s hand. Big, dark and strong-looking beside her long, skinny fingers and their manicured nails.
She hadn’t noticed before, but the pattern of the blanket created a solid red line between them, the bright fabric the vertical stroke of a cross that intersected the quilt and provided a border to the complicated multicoloured smaller squares.
The line was almost exactly in the middle.
At the moment, Ella was entirely on her side. Jake was entirely on his.
They’d both gone silent, and once again the only sound was that of the surrounding bushland.
Even the dogs had settled. She heard one of them sigh behind her as he or she reorganised themselves beneath their tree.
Ella knew it was only a matter of time before she or Jake shifted. Before one of their hands crept forward, tentatively, to touch the other’s.
She knew it, as well as she knew the earth was round, that she never kept her new year’s resolutions and that she looked absolutely dreadful in high-waisted trousers.
It was inevitable. This day was inevitable.
‘Ella...’ he murmured, and it was a whisper, and a groan and a promise all wrapped into one.
Yet, she’d been wrong. He didn’t grab her hand, or even touch it. Instead, in a movement she barely registered, he was above her, his elbows holding his weight, his big hands on either side of her face, cradling her gently. For his kiss.
His lips touched hers with intent. No waiting this time. No politeness, no caution, and definitely not a hint of surprise.
Had there ever been anything more certain than this kiss?
Ella lost herself to the incredible sensation of his mouth on hers, letting her body go languid as electricity sparked wherever there bodies touched. Her hands went wild as they roamed over his back, voraciously exploring its muscled topography, the furrow of his spine and then dipping under the hem of his T-shirt to feel warm, smooth, tempting skin.
His mouth tasted just slightly of champagne, but the dance of his tongue was as seductive and mind-altering as the strongest, most potent of alcohols.
When his lips left hers she gasped in disappointment, only to sigh when he trailed kisses along her jaw, and then again when he finally, finally, sunk his body partially onto hers.
Oh, that felt good.
Then his hands were on her, in all the right places, and their legs were intertwined, and her body was telling her in every way possible how absolutely right this all was.
Then their eyes met, and Jake smiled at her.
‘Your eyes are brown today,’ he said, and for the first time Ella realised she’d forgotten all about her emerald-green contacts in the crazy unexpectedness of that morning.
So she looked up at Jake, with her plain old eyes, and while she didn’t fully understand why, she realised she was glad.
Then her lashes fluttered shut, and she lost herself to the moment, and to Jake, and to the majesty of the mountains.
CHAPTER TWELVE
ELLA woke amongst a tangle of bed sheets, the bright and unforgiving mid-morning light making her blink, and blink again.
Still on her back, she stretched, her arms reaching upwards so her fingers brushed against the jarrah bed head, while her toes curled into the loveliness of bazillion-thread-count cotton.
Mmmmmmm.
She turned her head, on the mattress and not on her pillow as it had been long ago lost to the floor, to face Jake. He’d pushed himself up on an elbow, his chin propped against his palm. Actually, he looked pretty much identical to how he’d looked on that blanket up at the lookout.
Except, of course, for the whole totally naked thing.
She smiled.
Mmmmmmmm.
Ella knew that, right about now, she should be well on her way to a great big flurry of spectacular panic. It was Sunday morning. Their day was over.
What had she done? What was she doing?
But up here in Jake’s bedroom, the curtainless windows showcasing the valley and exactly how totally alone they both were, she honestly didn’t want to think about it.
Right now she was more than happy to cover her ears to all that was sane and sensible, and instead simply bask in the appreciation of Jake’s gaze and the memories of the past twenty-four hours.
&nbs
p; On second thoughts, no...basking would be a terrific waste of time.
Instead, she reached for Jake, he reached for her, and for the next long while Ella happily stopped worrying about thinking about anything at all.
* * *
He should be hating this.
Jake considered this as he sat, quite comfortably, in this little scene of domesticity. Ella had dozed off not long after the opening credits, and in her sleep had gradually moved closer until she now had her head nestled against his shoulder, and his arm was wrapped around hers.
Given the way they’d spent the past day, it had been kind of ridiculous how they’d both just stared at his couch in confusion once they’d made the decision to leave his bedroom and watch a movie. Should they sit close, all couple-like? Or more as they had in high school, each unselfconsciously doing whatever felt comfortable? This had generally involved Jake sprawled with his legs stretched out long, and Ella with her legs curled up under herself neatly. And masses of space between them—increasingly more with each passing year as they’d both started to feel—and ignore—that pull of teenage attraction.
In the end, this afternoon, by unspoken agreement, they’d compromised.
They’d sat, not touching, but close enough that doing so would be so, so easy.
And then, when Ella had fallen asleep, they’d ended up all wrapped around each other anyway.
He didn’t hate this, not at all. In fact, it was kind of nice.
Ella had left her hair loose, and so it spread haphazardly over her shoulders and onto him in messy waves. She did, however, wear make-up. Her bottomless handbag had produced an emergency stash of blush and mascara—or whatever it was she put on her face. So even in sleep, she was perfectly presented. His insistence that she didn’t need make-up, especially up here, had been met with a laugh and total disbelief.
Watching her as she slept, he was disappointed. He remembered when her eyelashes had been almost translucent, and when he’d been able to count the freckles on her nose.
At least, a little earlier, he’d managed to divest her of her glasslike lip-gloss in the most enjoyable way possible.
A few days ago he could never have imagined this weekend they’d just spent together: walking, drinking wine, laughing—and making love.
But he wouldn’t change a thing. This thing they had was good, really good.
For as long as it lasted.
Beside him, his phone vibrated, the sudden buzz enough to disturb Ella, and she blinked up at him with her chocolate-coloured eyes. At least her contacts hadn’t been stowaways to the mountain.
‘I fell asleep,’ she said, stating the obvious, and he watched as she registered where she lay. Then smiled as she didn’t move an inch, and just looked at him with a contented, half-asleep gaze.
He twisted, careful not to dislodge her, to pick up his phone. Very few people had his mobile phone number, so a message on a Sunday afternoon was unusual.
It was his PA, Kerry:
Check your email.
That was it. It was so unlike Kerry that he opened the email application on his phone with some trepidation—only now realising he hadn’t checked it once today. Unheard of...but then, he’d be suitably distracted.
So what was the email? Another request for an interview? Had yet another newspaper felt the need to rehash the old news story of his underprivileged past? Had Georgina sold another ‘tell all’ story to a magazine that simply rearranged the facts of their relationship into a new saleable product?
Trepidation escalated to foreboding as he registered the number of emails he’d received that day, from everyone from Cynthia, to the VP of Marketing, to a mate he went mountain biking with.
All including at least one of the following words and phrases: Gossip column, Launch party, Mystery woman...
He swore, not particularly quietly, and Ella sat up abruptly in surprise. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Seems I didn’t imagine that person on the staircase.’
Ella’s eyes widened. ‘What?’
His laptop was closed, but switched on as always, on the coffee table. He flipped it open, and navigated to the Sunday paper’s website.
A few moments later he’d located the gossip section and, half expecting a huge photo of he and Ella kissing to be displayed in full technicolour, he breathed out a sigh of relief when that was not what he discovered. Instead, it was simply a short paragraph, halfway down the page:
Spotted! Jake Donner, multimillionaire founder of Armada Software, canoodling with a mystery woman during the launch of Armada’s first smart phone on Friday! No word yet on the identity of the lucky lady, but whoever convinced this famously private bachelor to participate in such a public display of affection needs to tell this gossip columnist her secrets. And by the way, faithful readers, have you seen Jake’s new look? One word for you: Phwoar!
The almost familiar invasion of his privacy made Jake as tense and angry as ever. But this time, he had nobody but himself to blame.
‘How could we have been so stupid?’ Ella exclaimed, reading over his shoulder and voicing exactly what he’d been thinking. She immediately straightened, and began to pace the room in long, furious strides.
‘It’s not so bad,’ Jake said, acknowledging the irony that he, Mr Obsessed With His Privacy, was the calm one in this situation. ‘There’s no photo, and I have no doubt they would’ve named you if they knew it was you.’
Ella had her arms wrapped around herself as she paced. ‘But what if they find out? You know what the media’s like—desperate to sniff out a story.’
Before he had a chance to reply, she continued, her voice becoming increasingly agitated. ‘They’ve got no right to put that in the paper.’
He laughed, a short, hard sound. ‘You know as well as I do that whether it’s right or wrong makes little difference to the media. Besides—we were on a public stairway. You’re right, we were stupid to kiss where we did.’
He was angry, but for once this was his fault. He’d made a mistake, and now he had to deal with the consequences.
Ella walked stiffly to the window that overlooked the valley. She crossed her arms in front of herself, keeping her back to him.
‘This is a disaster,’ she said. ‘I’ve worked so hard...’
Finally the source of her anguish clicked into place. This had nothing to do with him. To do with them.
It wasn’t their relationship—or whatever this was—that she wanted to protect.
It was herself.
The realisation hit him like a low blow to his gut.
‘You’re worried they’re going to find out about Eleanor,’ he said, absolutely sure he was right.
Ella turned to face him, the sunlight behind her casting a long, feminine shadow across his floorboards. She nodded, a short, sharp movement.
‘Would it really be that big a deal?’
How could this woman who laughed with him, loved with him, care so much about what other people thought? Faceless strangers that didn’t matter at all?
She gaped at him as if he’d grown horns.
‘You can’t be serious, Jake? No one needs to know about Eleanor. It’ll ruin everything.’
She said it with such certainty.
‘But, Ella—’
‘We need a plan,’ she said, cutting him off. The soft, sleepy, romantic version of Ella was gone. She was now all in businesslike damage control. ‘If anyone asks about it, just say it was a one-off thing. You didn’t even know my name. The result of a few too many drinks at the launch party or something. Nothing serious.’
His body jerked a little at her easy dismissal of their weekend together. Which was silly—nothing serious suited him just fine.
It was only supposed to be day. That it had stretched to two meant nothing.
He made a weak attempt at humour to cover his confusion. ‘I’m a little offended you think that’s a plausible story. I generally ask a woman’s name before I kiss her.’
‘Please do
this for me,’ she asked. No, pleaded.
And Jake found it impossible to do anything but nod in response to the soft desperation in those words.
He walked over to her, reached out an arm to—what? Draw her close?
He let his arm fall back against his body. ‘So what now, Ella?’
She tilted her chin up and met his gaze with guileless eyes. ‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘It’s been a really great weekend, but, you know, I should probably get going.’
He opened his mouth to...what? Protest?
Why? He agreed with her. This could never be anything more.
But a disloyal voice in his head disagreed: It had been so quick. Too short.
He wasn’t even close to getting Ella Cartwright out of his system.
And he was pretty sure he wasn’t out of hers.
‘I don’t want my name in the papers, Jake. You might not agree, but I’ve got no interest in having my past laid out for all the world to see.’
Her wish to protect the raw elements of her past—the loss of her parents, the bullying, her housing commission upbringing—that he could understand. His success had forced his history into the public eye, but Ella hadn’t asked for any of this. She didn’t deserve to have her pain cut and pasted into a lurid tell-all magazine exposé just because of him.
But the rest, her desperation to hide her past from, not just the media—but from everyone. Her friends, her colleagues, her life...
And it wasn’t even her past she was hiding—it was Eleanor. She was hiding herself from her world.
He might be called the millionaire recluse or whatever, but he never hid who he was.
That Eleanor worked so hard to do exactly that he could never understand.
‘I should go,’ she said hurriedly, walking past him and towards the stairs to his room before he realised what was happening.
Despite everything, his instinct was to stop her. To ask her to stay...
But how long? A few more hours? Another night?
