Georgia’s hands tightened on her coffee-mug, her knuckles whitening with tension. Her gaze rose to meet Lockie’s and he reddened, his eyes falling from hers.
‘No. Of course, she wouldn’t be that stupid,’ he contradicted himself quickly, and gave a nervous laugh. ‘Anyway, enough of Morgan. I’m sure you don’t want to hear all this, Jarrod.’ He glanced back at his sister. ‘Never a dull moment around here, is there, Georgia? And you must be exhausted, arriving home from a hard day at work then having to go racing out to bring Morgan home.’
Georgia nodded and took a gulp of her coffee. It wasn’t work or the drama with their sister that was responsible for her feeling like a piece of chewed string.
If only she was on her own so she could rationally evaluate her reactions. Yet how could she have known just how radically the reappearance of Jarrod Maclean would affect her? Because, as much as she wished she could deny it, the fact was that he did still have the power to turn her emotions upside down.
She could see herself at seventeen again. That had been when Jarrod had come home after graduating. Georgia had been playing tennis and had been hot and dishevelled from the long cycle home. She’d walked in and he’d been there, in that same chair. When she’d entered the room he’d stood up, and he was a good four inches taller than her brother. Her eyes had lifted too, over his long, lithe body, to meet those fantastic blue eyes.
From beneath her lowered lashes Georgia watched Jarrod take a sip of his coffee, his strong neck muscles working as he swallowed.
Did he remember too? Probably not Why would he?
‘What were we talking about?’ Lockie continued. ‘Oh, yes. The changes around here.’
‘I thought I’d taken the wrong exit when I headed out along the highway the day I arrived,’ Jarrod remarked easily. ‘But once I turned onto that road outside I knew I was back. At least our little bit has stayed the same.’
Lockie’s eyes ran over the high-ceilinged lounge of their large old house. ‘Mmm. Lucky your father never had to sell off his land. Minus this little plot he sold to our father. Fifty acres, isn’t it?’
Jarrod nodded.
Georgia’s nervous system felt as if it had been constricted into a tight block, shaky and volatile. How could the three of them be sitting here so amicably discussing something as mundane as this while the awful events of four years ago sat with them?
‘They must have been good friends back then, Dad and Uncle Peter,’ Lockie was saying. ‘I mean for Uncle Peter to sell our father and mother this place.’
At that particular moment Georgia’s eyes were on Jarrod’s hands and with a shock she watched his knuckles whiten as his fingers tightened around his coffee-mug. Her gaze flew to his face and she saw a flicker of a nerve beating in his suddenly tensed jaw.
What could have sparked off his reaction? Surely he didn’t begrudge her parents this land? After all, Geoff Grayson had bought this house and had had it moved onto this block at least ten years before anyone had been aware that Jarrod even existed.
Georgia continued to surreptitiously watch him but his long lashes now safely shielded the expression in his eyes. He seemed intent on the remains of the coffee in his mug.
‘Of course this place needs a few running repairs now,’ Lockie continued easily. ‘Dad’s always just about to start on it when he gets a job working on someone else’s place. I’ve promised to give him a hand to paint the outside when he gets back from the coast. And the wiring needs attention too.’
Jarrod smiled stiffly, crossing one long denim-clad leg over the other, the rasp of the thick material echoing loudly to Georgia’s sensitised hearing, and she swallowed.
‘These old colonial styles are beautiful but there’s quite a bit of upkeep on them,’ he said evenly.
‘And how.’ Lockie glanced at his wrist-watch and when the phone rang he grinned broadly. ‘Right on time. That’ll be Mandy. She said she’d ring to let me know she’d arrived safely. If you’ll excuse me, Jarrod, I’ll take it on the extension in the kitchen.’ He stood up and raced along the hallway.
Georgia blinked in surprise at Lockie’s sudden exit. Her brother really was the limit. Leaving her alone with Jarrod was developing into a harrowing habit. She shifted uncomfortably on her seat.
‘Mandy, Lockie’s fianc&e2;e, flew home to New Zealand today to visit her family,’ she got out. ‘I suppose you met her last time you called in.’
He shook his head. ‘No, she was working. But Lockie told me they were engaged.’
‘She’s very nice. Everyone likes her. She’s become part of the family.’ Georgia knew she was babbling inanely but couldn’t seem to stop herself. ‘They plan to marry later in the year.’
‘I’m surprised. At Lockie tying himself down,’ he expanded. ‘Even though he’s-what, nearly twenty-eight? Somehow I find it hard to cast Lockie in the role of family man.’
Georgia caught back the bitter laugh that rose inside her. She’d been prepared to settle down with him when he had been younger than Lockie was now.
‘But I guess I’m four years behind. I’m afraid I still see Lockie as a gangling youth with a guitar.’ He smiled faintly and Georgia couldn’t prevent her eyes from shifting to meet his. And she was held captive by the achingly familiar wonder of his attraction.
She was mesmerised by the shape of his mouth, the upward tilt of the corners, the white slash of strong teeth against his tanned skin, the two creases that deepened when he smiled, running furrows in his cheeks. And she wanted to follow their course with the tip of her tongue, follow them right to the corners of his mouth and within. Georgia dragged her libidinous thoughts back from that so dangerous ground.
‘It’s incredible how quickly the years pass.’
‘Is it?’ The bitter words were out before she had consciously formed them and he looked across at her, suddenly still. Georgia forced herself to relax a little. ‘I thought it was only elderly people who complained about that,’ she added quickly with a forced-sounding laugh.
His mouth twisted in self-mockery. ‘Then perhaps I’m getting old.’
That same awkward silence fell between them and Georgia took a sip of her now lukewarm coffee.
‘Peter missed you this week,’ he said softly, his words taking her by surprise.
‘I’m sorry.’ Her eyes flitted about the room. ‘I’ve been fairly busy, and with you coming home-well, I…’ She shrugged.
‘You didn’t want to take a chance on running into me,’ he finished quietly.
‘Don’t be silly.’ Georgia flushed guiltily. ‘Why would I feel like that? I thought your father would want time alone with you. And, as I said, I’ve just been busy.’
‘Yes, it seems you have. I’ve been here twice and missed you both times.’ He slid his empty coffee-mug onto the tray and stood up, taking a couple of stiff-legged strides across the carpet ‘We had to meet eventually, Georgia. Surely you knew that?’ he said flatly.
‘Of course I knew.’ She swallowed, her mouth dry. ‘Really, Jarrod, you’re reading far more into this than is there.’
‘Am I, Georgia?’ He turned back to her, folding his strong arms across his chest. The worn denim of his jeans pulled tautly across his thighs, and she felt her heartbeats quicken in that old familiar way.
And it was familiar, she realised with total shock. Although in four years no man had touched on those intoxicating emotions, suddenly the years slid away as though