‘Breakfast,’ she said softly, as if she were afraid to interrupt a genius at work.
The tray held the promised bacon sandwich, which smelled amazing, as well as a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice and another pot of coffee.
‘My ministering angel,’ he told her and she gave a self-conscious laugh.
‘Hardly.’
‘Well, in that get-up, you look like some kind of angel.’
She blushed and looked upset and Jude immediately wished he could take the words back. Too late, she was already whirling away and he found himself watching her retreating heels, flashing pink beneath the frilled hem of her nightdress.
He didn’t see her again for the rest of the day. Which was, he decided, a very good thing.
Naturally he was grateful that he’d been left in peace. Except … the afternoon’s writing fared as badly as the morning’s. Ideas wouldn’t come. Words evaded Jude and when he emerged from his room at the end of the day, he felt particularly irritable and sluggish. And mad with himself for wasting precious hours.
Usually, when he felt like this, he went for a long, brisk walk to shake out the cobwebs. This evening, however, he was distracted by enticing aromas wafting from the kitchen.
Following his nose, he discovered Emily wrapped in one of Alex’s gaudy aprons, and looking especially fetching with her bright hair pinned up in a loose knot from which fiery tendrils escaped.
‘That smells amazing.’
She turned to him and she was a bit pink and flushed, but much happier than she’d been when she’d left his office this morning. In fact, she sent him a bright-eyed smile. ‘It’s coq au vin. I hope you like it.’
‘I’m sure I’ll love it, but I don’t expect you to cook for me, Emily.’
‘I don’t mind. I like cooking, and it’s my way of repaying you for last night’s dinner.’ She shot him a quick enquiring glance. ‘Or were you planning to go out?’
It occurred to Jude that he should have called one of his mates and planned an evening out. Surely that was a wiser plan than spending another night at home with this far too attractive girl.
However, he found himself saying, ‘I don’t have any plans.’ And he helped himself to a glass of iced water from the fridge. ‘That dinner smells sensational.’
‘So speaks a self-confessed pushover when it comes to food.’
‘Sprung,’ he admitted with a rueful smile.
Emily smiled, too, and he thought he could stare at her smile for ever …
‘I’ve tried to keep quiet,’ she said. ‘Have you had a productive day?’
‘Not very.’
For a moment she looked worried, but then her eyes widened with unmistakable excitement. ‘I bought one of your novels this afternoon. It’s called Thorn in the Flesh and I’ve started reading it. It’s fabulous, Jude. Totally gripping. I’m hooked, and it’s exactly what I needed to stop me from dwelling … on … everything.’
‘I’m glad it hit the spot.’
To his surprise, she folded her arms and leant a shapely hip against a kitchen cupboard with the air of someone settling in for a discussion. ‘Morgan, the heroine, is really tough,’ she said. ‘Mentally tough. And I like the way she guards her heart.’ Emily rolled her eyes. ‘I should be more like her.’
Jude shrugged. ‘Perhaps you’re too hard on yourself. Fictional characters are always larger than life.’
‘That’s true, I guess.’
‘I could never live up to my hero’s standards.’
She nodded. ‘Raff’s a very cool customer, isn’t he?’
‘Of course.’
Of course … Jude thought. His heroes had always been very cool and very tough, ever since he’d first created them for the stories he told to his little sister, Charlotte. At the age of eight he’d been trying to drown out the nightly ordeal of their parents’ rowdy arguments.
These days, with new enemies, Jude wished it was as easy to escape from reality.
Emily had turned to the stove and was adjusting the flame beneath the fragrantly simmering pot. ‘Have you heard from Alex?’ she asked casually.
‘Not today.’
‘Do you miss him?’ She gave the pot a stir.
Finishing his iced water, Jude shrugged. ‘Not especially. He’ll only be away for three weeks or so.’
Then he saw the way Emily was watching him, her blue eyes soft and round with obvious sympathy, and he realised with a slam of dismay that she’d decided he was Alex’s lover.
He should deny it now. Tell her the truth. Hell, just looking at her in her simple jeans and Alex’s striped apron, Jude was fighting off desire so strong that it startled him. He was surprised that Emily could stand there in the same room and not be aware of his screaming lust.
Thing was, it should have been dead easy to set her straight. How hard was it to make a simple statement? By the way, Emily, I’m not gay.
All things being equal, he would have told her. Immediately. No problem.
Except … there were other factors at play here. Emily was enjoying a kind of immunity in this apartment, but if she knew the truth about him, she was likely to pick up on the attraction he felt. For all kinds of reasons, that was a bad idea.
Her trust in men had taken a severe hammering and she’d come here seeking sanctuary. Feeling safe was very important to her right now, and Jude didn’t want to upset that. This apartment offered her time-out. From men. Time to pick up the pieces after her recent relationship disaster. The last thing she needed was an awareness of a new guy with the hots for her.
Just as importantly, Jude knew he was totally crazy to entertain randy thoughts when he’d come to the city to find out what the hell was wrong with him. He needed a medical diagnosis, not a romantic entanglement with the first gorgeous girl who walked through the door.
All things considered, it was much easier and safer to simply let Emily assume that he was gay. After all, she wouldn’t be here for long, and he—
Hell. He had his life on hold until he knew what the future had in store for him.
When Emily woke the next morning she felt marginally happier. She’d slept quite well during the night, no doubt because she’d gone to bed feeling thoroughly relaxed after a pleasant evening at home with Jude.
They’d enjoyed a leisurely meal, which Jude had complimented lavishly, and then they’d sunk into comfy armchairs and read novels in the pleasantly heated lounge room while CDs played softly in the background. It had been rather cosy and undemanding, the kind of evening she’d often spent with Alex.
Now, having dressed in jeans and a sweater because she didn’t want another comment about angels and nightgowns, she wandered into the kitchen at almost nine o’clock. It was the longest sleep she’d had in ages. No wonder she felt better.
To her surprise, there were no signs that Jude was up. The kettle was cold, which meant he’d either made his cuppa long ago, or he hadn’t bothered.
She made coffee and blueberry pancakes and assembled a breakfast tray, as she had on the previous day, then knocked softly on Jude’s door. After all, bringing him breakfast was the least she could do when he was hard at work and generously sharing his living space with her.
He didn’t answer to her knock,