‘How do you make a living while you’re waiting for the book sale royalties to come flooding in?’
Nate’s head jerked up, his face a picture of astonishment. Instead of the comeback she’d assumed he’d give, he chuckled, and the deep sound wrapped around her, making her yearn for a time when trust had come easy.
‘I’ll let you know when they do and we’ll celebrate.’
The memory of a similar pledge slammed through her, taking her breath away and freezing her blood.
I’m expecting good news. When it comes we’ll have a special celebration.
Two days later she’d found out that the man she’d believed loved her and intended to propose was sleeping with a female colleague to gain promotion. He’d even gone to meet her after taking Jemma home that night.
‘Jemma, are you all right?’
She shook her head, dragged in air and looked into concerned grey eyes.
‘You’re white as a ghost.’
‘The ghost of a bad memory. Best forgotten.’ She managed a smile and he relaxed into his seat, keeping watch on her pale face. ‘Truly, I’m fine.’
‘I’m not so sure, but...’
He let out a very masculine grunt and she was totally back in the now, reaching for her wine, sipping it as he gave her a serious answer.
‘I was a reporter. Now I’m an investment advisor.’
‘A good one?’
‘Good enough to pay the bills.’
Jemma pondered on his succinct job description. She could visualise him investigating a story, chasing information to find the truth, but the switch to an office job didn’t gel.
‘Why the career move?’
She watched his chest expand under the tan sweater, hold then contract. He seemed to be deliberately assessing how much to disclose. Preparing to keep secrets and lie like her ex?
‘Things happen and you make choices. My gap year—travelling in Europe with a friend after we graduated from uni—became a rite of passage lasting seven years that made me who I am now.’
She empathised, and was convinced his matter-of-fact tone belied his true feelings. Her parents selling their house—her home—to invest in a restaurant, and her ex’s betrayal were the two events that had forced her to re-evaluate her future, and they had a continuing effect on her viewpoint and life choices.
‘Four years ago, my father had a health scare, prompting him to semi-retire and move with my mother to the south coast. It was my motivation for coming home for good—a decision I’ve never regretted in the slightest.’
She heard honest affection in his voice and envied that relationship. She couldn’t imagine her parents or sister giving up their careers for anyone—hoped she’d be more compassionate.
Sensing he’d divulged more than he’d intended when he’d agreed to lunch with her, she didn’t reply and finished eating her meal.
* * *
Nate had no idea why he’d revealed private aspects of his life he usually kept to himself. Or why he found it almost impossible to take his eyes off her enchanting, expressive face. His attraction to a woman had never been so immediate, so compelling. So in conflict with his normal emotionless liaisons.
A growing need for open space was compelling. He had to get away from her—away from her subtle floral perfume that had been tantalising him since he’d stepped near enough to greet her. Native rather than commercially grown city flowers, it was delicate and haunting.
He didn’t fight his urgent compulsion to pace and consider all the implications, including any legal ramifications, of collaboration. He needed to think and plan away from the distractions of other people, away from Jemma and his reactions to her, physical and mental.
Noting her plate was empty, he placed his cutlery neatly on his.
‘Do you want dessert or coffee here? Or we could take some time apart to consider our options and meet up later.’
This time her scrutiny was short. yet no less intense.
With an understanding smile he’d rather not have seen, she nodded. ‘That’s a good idea.’
Muscles he hadn’t realised were tight suddenly loosened.
‘I’ll need your phone number.’
Unease flickered in her eyes before she reached for her shoulder bag on the floor. Had it anything to do with her adverse opinion of him at first sight?
He held his mobile towards her, allowing her to input first.
Their empty plates removed, and anything else politely declined, she leant her elbows on the table and cupped her chin on her linked fingers as they waited for the bill.
‘Do you commute from the mountains every day?’ she asked.
‘Electronic media means I can do a fair amount from home. I come in when necessary, or for socialising.’
He hadn’t yet bowed to the pressure to commit to full-time employment with the family firm, wary of the daily sameness stretching into his future.
‘Like today?’
‘Like today.’
And he’d be staying until his flight overseas on Sunday morning.
He settled the account on the way out, irrationally torn between needing to be alone and reluctance to let her go. After saying goodbye, she headed for the railway station without glancing back. He watched for a moment, then strode towards the Harbour Bridge.
JEMMA TOOK NO notice of the world around her as the train sped to Central Station, and as she deliberated on which way to go when she alighted. Her brain buzzed at the compliments Brian had given her, coupled with the sensations from Nate’s few touches and her own responses to his looks and his voice.
Could she handle being in frequent contact with him? Even by email? How would she deal with someone who was averse to allowing her to read anything he’d written?
Consider our options.
Like heck. He oozed the authority of a man who knew exactly what he wanted and rarely settled for less. He’d given no indication of his point of view on their two-way deal, focussing only on his novel.
Brian’s appraisal of her work had been honest and unemotional, letting her know the downsides while still giving her hope of a satisfactory solution. Already aware of her weakness when she’d submitted to him, she was open to any suggestion for improvement.
Could Nate remain impartial to the romance genre when he read her work? How did he feel about helping to transform her inept storytelling? He’d been very forthright about his aversion to allowing her access to his manuscript. Her emotions wavered from exhilaration that she might achieve publication to apprehension that Nate’s expectations might be hard to satisfy.
She walked out of the station and turned towards Circular Quay. Window shopping in Pitt Street would pass the time and occupy her mind. If he didn’t call... She banished that thought. He’d phone—even if it was only to dash any foolish hopes she might have allowed to take seed.
A new dress and two fun presents for her friends later, she was watching the ferries