‘Define “it,” Nate.’ Her voice was flat, with a hint of umbrage.
‘You know darn well, Jemma. That intensity and interaction with sensual undertones. That emotion and the different ways you write it. The actual physical encounters. If there’s a how-to-write book on that I’d like a copy.’
‘I’ll give you a list. If that’s how you describe making love you’ll need it. Reading well-written scenes you want to emulate is also a great teacher.’
‘Plus practical learning?’
Her gasp coincided with his oath of regret, and he immediately tried to make amends.
‘I’m sorry, Jemma, that was crass and uncalled-for. It sure didn’t work for me.’
A quick glance at her pale face deepened his self-contrition. And his next remark would probably fuel the fire.
‘I can’t offer any excuse because there isn’t one. I read what you’ve written and I can’t believe the variety of ways you describe the same actions and feelings. Can’t help wondering how.’
He’d screwed up—virtually accused her of sleeping around—and wouldn’t blame her if she told him to fix his inadequate scenes himself. What the hell had possessed him? Stupid question. She intrigued and bothered him.
The women he dated—which was hardly the correct description for mutual sexual satisfaction sometimes preceded by dinner or a function—were experienced. Jemma was a far cry from their determined-to-stay-independent and career-absorbed personalities. There was no explanation for his reactions towards her. He needed her brain, her description expertise, nothing more.
Yeah, that’s why you can’t stop thinking of her enticing blue eyes and her soft lips ripe for kissing. Why you take deep breaths to inhale her perfume. And why you pushed for this personal collaboration when your head argued for electronic contact only.
‘Are you claiming actual participation in every aspect of your hero’s covert operations, Nate?’
The biting tone of her challenge slammed him back to the present situation. The breath he hadn’t realised he was holding whooshed from his lungs, and for a second his head spun.
Sucking more air in, he framed an answer he hoped would satisfy her without revealing the complete truth. ‘I’ve met military personnel in a number of places, and worked with some to gain access to remote areas, normally inaccessible. Friendships with them and a few corporate employees working for international companies have been beneficial to my job. A lot can be learned from conversation over food or drinks if you’re prepared to listen and be discreet.’
He hesitated, stared at the number plate of the camper van in front, and then inexplicably shared more.
‘I’ve never betrayed nor had reason to regret any of those relationships. And being involved with a social group who meet in Sydney every month has aided my return to normal day-to-day life. The support they give is unconditional—never questioned and never denied.’
* * *
Jemma heard the words he spoke and filled in those he’d held back. Nate Thornton would refute any suggestion by others of being affected by his experiences, and yet she sensed he’d turned to these members for help at some time.
‘If you’re part of it, it’s not just for ex-military?’
His eyes met hers for a brief moment, cool and confronting with an underlying warning.
No questions. I’ve said enough.
‘Your business. Just keep in mind that any alterations I make in your characters’ relationship will impact elsewhere.’
‘As in...?’
‘As in the friendlier they get, the more intimate details they’ll learn, and the more likely it will be that they’ll think of each other when apart...even at inappropriate times.’
Like I think of you, though you’ve never held me; we’ve never kissed.
‘My amendments will influence how they react to each other in future scenes, Nate. They can’t become involved without some changes in their behaviour.’
‘Hmm...’
She gave him a moment to absorb what appeared to be a new concept for him, though he’d already accepted the few revisions she’d made outside her specified scenes. To continue, she needed to know about the couple’s individual futures.
‘It would be helpful if I could read the entire manuscript and get some idea of how often they’ll be together and what happens to them. They had long breaks away from each other in the last four chapters I saw, but the action was so riveting it didn’t matter.’
‘In your story they seldom had a page apart.’
‘Different genre. Different reader expectations.’
‘You added music to mine too—something I hadn’t considered. Even nailed the heavy rock band my hero listens to. The man I based his character on was a diehard fan.’
‘Which means you nailed the character. Who, by the way, wouldn’t appeal to every woman.’
‘That was the furthest thought from my mind when I was writing.’
The atmosphere in the vehicle had changed—or maybe it was Jemma herself. Without being conscious of any deliberate action she’d accepted her irrational attraction to Nate, and the understandable apprehension of staying with a man she barely knew. On all but one level she trusted him. She no longer deemed him arrogant, but to her he was still the self-assured, I-can-handle-any-situation macho male she’d pegged in that foyer.
At her request, he switched radio channels to one playing contemporary hits. They discussed the merits, or lack of, in the music and performers, and agreed to disagree when their tastes didn’t mesh.
The warmth of the sun through the windows and the steady purr of the engine combined with her early rising made her drowsy. She turned her face towards the window and slept.
Some time later she became aware of an almost familiar song as she drifted towards consciousness. Eyes shut, she tried to identify it and realised it was Nate, singing along with the radio. His voice wasn’t bad at all, especially with the abrasive edge favoured by many hard rock fans.
The music finished and she didn’t move, not wanting to embarrass him. As if anything could shake the man’s composure. Opening her eyes, she saw tall trees flashing past, backed by blue sky, not the peaks and stunted tree-growth she’d pictured from television images of the Blue Mountains. They were different, though, and not as lush as those in Hahndorf.
Reminding herself they were at a much higher altitude, she stirred, straightened up and caught Nate’s quick smile towards her.
‘We’re about fifteen minutes from Katoomba. We’ll bypass it—unless you want to stop for a drink or anything?’
She checked her watch. It was twenty to nine. He’d mentioned living out of the town, but not how far.
‘No, I’m all right. Shouldn’t I be able to see the mountains now?’
He laughed. ‘Not when you’re driving along the top of them. Don’t worry—you’ll get plenty of photo opportunities in the next two weeks. I’ve got tourist brochures at home from when Dad and Mum stayed with me.’
‘Will there be time for sightseeing?’
This time his glance included an eyebrow quirk.
‘You agreed to come thinking I’d work you without any breaks, Jemma?’
His smile told her he was teasing, and she responded the same way.
‘You said you wanted my input as soon as possible, Nate.’
‘Ah, but even I take time out for pleasure.’
The phrase, What kind? formed on her lips, but thankfully didn’t get spoken—although she was sure he’d give plausible answers. He ran to keep fit, and trained with the firefighting service. He had family and friends to socialise with. But he had given no indication of there being a regular woman in his life.
She’d been first to the dining area with her luggage this morning—not quite first, as Milly had been eating a small portion of dry food in her corner. Kneeling to stroke her, she’d hear
d the sound of Nate’s suitcase wheels on the tiled floor, turned, and felt suddenly bereft of air and logical thought. Why was it no other man in jeans and a muscle-sculpting T-shirt had that power?
She’d love to ask if he’d had any requests to pose for those firefighter calendars like the one she’d bought for a friend’s Christmas present last year. If Nate had been featured she’d have that month on her wall permanently.
‘Jemma? You’ve gone very quiet. It’s a bit late to change your mind.’
‘I’m not. I was wondering how far from town you live. You said it was too far to go by foot.’
‘Ten-point-seven kilometres along the road—plus four hundred metres from the turn-off to my house. I have walked it on occasion. My normal routine is to leave the SUV in town with a friend if I catch the train to the city.’
‘Are there other homes nearby?’
‘No—that’s part of the attraction for me. If you’re worried about safety it’s textbook fire-and-storm-protected, and I clear any surrounding bush-growth every spring or when needed.’
She went quiet, noting the small number of turn-offs before he slowed down and drove into his which was unmarked and barely discernible, consisting of solid-packed dirt and weaving around a large tree for a few metres in, then veering off again.
‘You don’t have a mailbox?’
‘Anything I can’t get on email goes to a post office box in Katoomba. I cleared it last week.’
‘And the house isn’t visible from the road? Is all this land yours?’ There were more trees than she’d expected, given his statement regarding safety and clearing land.
‘Yes. Privacy is important to me. Anyone I invite here knows where it is.’
A final bend and they were in an open area with a view of a mountaintop across a valley. For Jemma, it was like seeing a picture from a classic architectural magazine for real. She couldn’t conceive of a more perfect home in such a setting. Everything she’d imagined it might be flew out of her head.
* * *
Nate was justifiably proud of the house he’d helped design, with every eco-friendly device and technology available. Built on rising ground as a split level, with a solar-panelled sloping roof, the house’s colours blended with its natural surroundings, and was fronted with a wide area of neutral-coloured pebbles. Beyond there was a variety of naturally growing, widely spaced low scrub bushes. The nearest trees wouldn’t reach the building if felled by fire or man.
He drove around to the right, activated a remote control and stole a glance at Jemma as what appeared to be part of the side wall slid upwards into the ground-floor ceiling. Her wide-eyed response was all he’d hoped for, as it had been when family members and friends had first visited.
His parents had loved the comfort of cooling and heating, the views and the peaceful evenings. His brother-in-law and Sam had wanted to try every piece of gadgetry and know how they worked. Alice had been enthusiastic about everything, and had made playful fun of him for living there alone.
Reversing down the ramp, he experienced the same heightened anticipation as he had the first time he’d completed the manoeuvre. As if Jemma’s opinion was significant.
If the smile on her face as she gazed around the illuminated garage and workshop was any indication, he’d earned her approval.
She was out of the vehicle and scanning his tool shadow board and built-in workbench and shelves before he had a chance to get around and open her door.
‘Wow, are there any tools you don’t have, Nate?’
‘I bought these while we were building. Haven’t had many yet, but I like to do my own repairs except when a licence is needed.’ He pointed to the far corner. ‘Laundry’s over there—use it any time you need.’
Turning back to the vehicle, he went to the rear and began unloading their luggage, carrying it to a small lift near a set of stairs. She collected her handbag from the front seat, then unbuckled the cat carrier and took it over. Two more trips and everything was inside, ready to go up.
Nate caught her arm as she was about to enter and led her round the side. Between the lift and the ramp was a large back-up generator and an electricity switchboard. He gave her a quick rundown on the switches.
‘Blackouts are rare, and the generator should cut in if one occurs. If I don’t happen to be here, and it doesn’t, you can do it manually. There’s a torch and spare batteries in the bottom of your bedside cabinet, and in a kitchen drawer.’
‘You’ve really covered everything, haven’t you? Even putting in your own lift.’
He looked down into enchanting blue eyes, deep and alluring as the Mediterranean Sea, and the desire to dive into the tantalising depths was overwhelming. Only dredging up the memory of another pair of bewitching eyes kept him from dipping his head those few centimetres and claiming her lips with his.
A flash of wariness flickered in her eyes, but was gone as quickly as it came. Heeding its warning, he moved away.
‘Useful when there are three storeys, and it cuts out arguing with Dad about him carrying suitcases up flights of stairs.’
Jemma went in first, standing sideways on to Nate in the small space left by the luggage, her eyes fixed on his chest as he closed the door and pressed the top button. The air she drew in was scented with his cologne, and it would take little effort for her to rise onto her toes and press her lips to his manly jaw.
Contrary emotions. A moment ago, she’d been afraid he was about to kiss her.
‘We’ll drop off the luggage, then go down to ground level,’ he told her as they halted, stepping out to allow her to exit with her handbag, satchel and carry-on.
The wide corridor stretched the width of the house down to a picture window with shutters.
‘You’re in the first on the left, and the light switch is on the left by the door. I leave all the drapes closed and the blinds down when I’m away.’
Nate followed her with the two suitcases, set hers down near the bed and left with his. A good move for her, because she was incapable of speech, in awe of the suite she’d be occupying during her stay.
With her love of nature, this was her dream room. The soft green décor with traces of pale yellow, including a leaf motif on the enormous bedspread, pillow and an armchair, was soothing. She loved the way it was teamed with the light brown of the bedside cabinets, the desk table and chair in one corner, and the small round coffee table alongside the armchair by the window.
A double door which slid into the wall revealed a large walk-in wardrobe, with a dressing table and full-length mirror. She assumed every bedroom would be similarly furnished, with different designs. His? Or had he hired an interior decorator? She couldn’t picture him flicking though swatches of fabric.
She’d begun to slide the single door open, catching a glimpse of a continuation of the colour scheme in the en suite bathroom, and heard him coming back. Whatever he’d been about to say was lost as she gave him a knowing smile, well aware that her eyes would be gleaming with mischief.
‘That must have been quite a bulk deal you got on those beds, Nate.’
He chuckled, clearly appreciating her sense of humour. ‘Nearly four years apart, but from the same dealer. You did find yours comfortable last night?’
‘Very—I slept peacefully until my alarm. Seriously, Nate, I think this room’s worthy of a five-star hotel.’
* * *
Nate was tempted to make a quip about twenty-four-hour room service but refrained, deeming.it might be misconstrued.
‘Thank you. Now, let’s get Milly to the ground floor and free her before she starts objecting.’
Downstairs, he opened the shutters and green drapes, flooding the open area with light. Before releasing the kitten he latched the gates he’d installed across the stairs, up and down, preferring to keep her on one floor until she settled.
From the moment he’d
driven onto his property his senses had been attuned to Jemma, trying to gauge her reaction to everything he’d designed, chosen, sourced and put in place. Although he’d valued his family’s opinion, it hadn’t impacted on him. It disturbed him that hers might. So far every reaction had been positive, lifting his spirits.
The similarities between here and the Sydney unit were deliberate, with ceiling-to-floor glass along one long wall, facing a panoramic view of the mountains across the gully. Here the colours were various shades of green, and the furniture teak. This was a subdued version, conducive to relaxation, quiet evenings and a peaceful atmosphere for writing.
Partial glass on the side wall and front ensured plenty of natural light and a true living-in-the-country atmosphere. And behind the kitchen was a surprise he hoped she’d share with him.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
HE WATCHED HER walk the length of the open-plan area, her eyes focussed on the true-life mural through the glass, swivel for a slow scan of the décor inside, then turn to him with a bemused expression. Unable to gauge her reaction from where he stood, he moved closer.
‘Sydney was awesome, Nate, and this is spectacular. What’s your next project? A castle or a palace? Is it all your personal taste?’
‘It took time, but everything here is exactly what I want, right down to the salt and pepper shakers, and it will suit me until I grow old.’
As he spoke he recalled selecting it all with a fierce determination that no one else would have any input, that his home would have only his stamp in every room.
Jemma was the first woman not related to him he’d invited here and he wanted her to approve, to feel relaxed and at home. No! He fisted his hands at this thought. Relaxed and comfortable for writing—not as if it were her home. She was a transient visitor, and on completion of the assignment she’d leave.
He switched topics. ‘Where I write depends on my mood: in here, or outside—even in winter on occasion.’ He flicked his hand towards a desk and chair in the far corner. ‘Or over there, or in my study. You go wherever you feel comfiest.’
‘Thank you. May I see the study?’
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