‘I’m not.’
‘You’re living with his parents.’
‘That’s because they’ve become my parents,’ she said. ‘Sometimes I wonder whether I fell in love with Ben himself or if I fell in love with the whole concept of family. Like you tonight, looking round the dining table and looking…hungry.’
‘I didn’t,’ he said, revolted. ‘Can we leave it with the inquisition?’
‘Sure,’ she said, and she thought maybe she had pushed it too far. This man was supposed to be her boss. She should be being a bit deferential. Subservient.
He didn’t make her feel subservient. He made her feel…
She didn’t understand how he made her feel. She tried to conjure Ben up in her mind. Kind, gentle Ben, who’d loved her so well.
‘It’s tough,’ he said into the stillness, and she wondered what he was talking about. ‘The first Christmas was the worst, but it’s still bad,’ he added, and she knew he knew.
‘It’s okay.’
‘But it’s tough.’
‘I’ve got thirteen years before I catch up to you in the mourning stakes,’ she snapped, and turned the car into the front yard of Braeside. ‘Here’s your guesthouse.’
It was a fabulous spot, Guy thought, staring around with appreciation. The moon was glinting through bushland to the river beyond, hanging low in the eastern sky over the distant sea. The guesthouse was a sprawling weatherboard home, with vast verandas all around.
‘I’ve heard it’s sumptuous,’ Jenny said, climbing out of the car to stretch her legs.
‘You’ve never been inside?’
‘The likes of me? I’d be shown out by security guards.’
‘I’m sorry about Paris.’
‘I shouldn’t have told you about Paris.’ She hesitated while he hauled his gear from the trunk. ‘Are you serious about me driving this thing home? You realise it’ll be parked near chooks.’
‘Chooks?’
‘Feathery things that lay eggs.’
‘Park it as far away as possible,’ Guy said, sounding nervous.
‘Okay. I was just teasing. I might even find a tarpaulin. I’ll collect you tomorrow at nine, then. With or without chook poo.’
‘Fine,’ he said. He turned away. But then he hesitated.
‘Thank you for tonight,’ he said. ‘And we really will give Kylie a great wedding.’
‘I know we will.’ She trusted him, she thought. She wasn’t sure why, but she did.
But suddenly she didn’t trust herself.
She should get into the driver’s seat, she told herself. Guy needed to walk away.
But then…and why, she didn’t know…it was as if things changed. The night changed.
‘Jenny?’ he said uncertainly.
‘I know,’ she said, but she didn’t know anything. Except that he was going to kiss her and she was going to let him.
She could have pulled back. He was just as uncertain as she was-or maybe he was just as certain.
He dropped his holdall. Moving very slowly, he reached out and caught her hands, tugging her towards him. She allowed herself to be tugged. Maybe she didn’t need his propulsion.
‘Thank you for dinner,’ he said, and she thought, He’s making this seem like a fleeting kiss of courtesy. Though both of them knew it was no such thing.
‘You’re welcome,’ she whispered.
His lips brushed hers, a feather touch-a question and not an answer.
‘You’re very welcome,’ she said again as he drew back-and suddenly she was being kissed properly, thoroughly, wonderfully.
She’d forgotten…or maybe she’d never known this heat. This feeling of melting into a man and losing control, just like that. There was warmth spreading throughout her limbs. A lovely, languorous warmth that had her feeling that her world was changing, right there and then, and it could never be the same again.
She kissed him back, demanding as much as he was demanding of her. Tasting him. Savouring the feel of his wonderful male body under her hands. Guy Carver…
Guy Carver.
This was crazy.
She, Jenny Westmere, mother of Henry, wife of Ben…To kiss this man…
She was out of her mind. Panicked, she shoved her hands between her breast and his chest, pushing him away.
He released her at once. He tried to take her hands but she’d have none of it. She was three feet away from him now. Four.
‘No.’
‘No?’ His eyes were gently questioning. Not laughing. She couldn’t have borne it if he was laughing. ‘No, Jenny?’
‘I only kiss my husband,’ she said, and the words made perfect sense to her, even if they didn’t to him.
But it appeared he understood. ‘You’re not being unfaithful, Jenny. It was only a kiss.’
Only a kiss? Then why was her world spinning?
‘I’m not some easy country hick…’
‘I never thought you were.’
‘You’re here until Christmas. Will we see you again after that?’
‘Probably not.’
‘We’re ships passing in the night.’ She took a deep breath and steadied. ‘So maybe we’d better do just that- pass.’
‘I’m not into relationships,’ he said, not even smiling. ‘I’m not about to mess with your tidy life.’
‘My life’s not very tidy,’ she confessed. ‘But thank you. Now…I think I’d better go home.’
‘You’re brave enough to drive the Ferrari by yourself?’
‘Something tells me it’d be far more dangerous to stay here with you,’ she muttered. ‘But I’ll pick you up in the morning. As long as you promise not to kiss me again.’
‘You want me to promise?’
‘Yes, I do,’ she said, and if her voice sounded desperate she couldn’t help it.
‘I won’t kiss you again. I know a mistake when I see one.’
‘I’m a mistake?’
‘Absolutely,’ he told her. ‘This whole place is a mistake. I should leave now.’
Only of course he didn’t. He couldn’t. He booked into the fantastic guesthouse he’d been delivered to. He rang Malcolm in New York and confirmed that there was no one who could get here on short notice to take over organisation.
‘Scooping the Barret and Anna wedding is fabulous, though.’ Malcolm was chortling. ‘Every bride in Australia will want you after this. It’s just as well you’re there to do it hands-on. You’ll use the local staff? Great. Make sure you don’t mess up.’
The local staff? Guy thought of what he had to build on-Jenny and, by the sound of it, a crew of geriatrics-and he almost groaned.
‘It’s the best publicity we could think of,’ Malcolm said jovially. ‘I’ll manage the Film Conglomerate do. We’re fine.’
Only they weren’t. Or he wasn’t. Guy lay in the sumptuous four-poster bed that night, listening to owls in the bushland outside, and wondered what he was getting into.
He didn’t know, and he didn’t want to find out.
And five miles away Jenny was feeling exactly the same.
When she got back to the farmhouse Henry was asleep and Lorna and Jack were filling hot water bottles from the kitchen kettle.
