“I’m not an angel. I’m not special.”
Lora’s eyes crinkled at the corners, something else she had in common with her son. “No one’s an angel, but everyone is special.”
Lora might have had a hard life but she knew how to comfort someone, knew how to calm them. Knew how to touch them deeply.
Izzy had to swallow the lump in her throat and take a sip of tea to regain control.
Lora gave her the minutes to get her composure back, eating some curry with quiet absorption. As soon as Izzy shifted, Lora’s attention snapped back to her.
“Moira and Jarrod contested the will.” It still had the power to hurt after all this time. “It wasn’t about the money for me, it was never about the money. The house was old, wasn’t even really worth much. It was in a town, it needed a lot of repairs I hadn’t been able to afford to make while Mum was sick. But it was home. It was my home. It was the home I thought I’d live and die in. It was my sanctuary.” Izzy desperately wanted Lora to understand. “It wasn’t about the money.”
“Izzy,” Lora said gently, “I believe you. I do.”
Clasping her hands beneath the table again, Izzy finished in barely a whisper. “They said the house was in Mum’s name, that Moira as a sibling and daughter had an equal claim. I could have fought it in the courts but I didn’t have the money, and somehow fighting it seemed so wrong right after Mum had died. That we’d be fighting over her home like two rabid bitches. I begged. I pleaded. I tried to make them see what the home meant to me. Jarrod said Moira had as much right to her inheritance as I had. It didn’t matter that they had a house worth a million dollars, three cars, and holidayed overseas every year. It was something Moira had a right to.” She started picking at the thread again. “A loan to pay out her half wasn’t something I could get. I had no money, no income, no job. Even mortgaging the house wasn’t an option. Who was I going to ask for help? My mother’s old friends, already on a pension? Friends who had drifted away?”
Those had been dark days.
“Betrayal is one of the hardest things,” Lora said softly. “Betrayal in any form cuts to the bone, shatters the soul, can leave marks for years.”
Jason’s Mum understood so much, easing Izzy’s tension. “The house was sold, we each got our half. The day the ‘For Sale’ sign went up I told Moira I never wanted to see her and Jarrod again. I wanted them out of my life. All I could see when I looked at them was…betrayal, like you said.” Taking a deep breath, Izzy straightened her shoulders. “I came to the city, rented a house, got a job, put my money in the bank, and I’ve worked hard to save enough for a deposit on a house. I’m almost there. I want a good deposit, a decent deposit, one that’ll cut less off my repayments. I don’t earn a heap of money, Mrs Dawson, but I don’t need much to keep me happy.”
“A wise woman knows that riches don’t make you happy.”
Izzy gave a wry grin. “No, but you could be unhappy in comfort.”
Lora laughed.
Izzy drew the envelope from her handbag, set it on the table. “Moira and Jarrod have been trying to talk to me. When I refused they started putting these envelopes addressed to me in some of my friends’ letterboxes. It’s their way of saying if I don’t help them, they’ll tell everyone my personal business. My personal business, Mrs Dawson,” Izzy said bluntly, “I don’t like going around. I’m a private person, and they were playing on that to make me see them.”
“So you did.”
“I did. They’ve lost everything, they say. House, boat, cars, business. They want any money I have left over from the house to help them. I wouldn’t give it to them.” Izzy paused, gauged Lora’s reactions. “I turned my back on them. I haven’t changed my mind. I don’t hate them, but I don’t consider them family. They left me and Mum when we needed them most, then they betrayed me. Call me hard, call me a bitch, but they chose their life and they live with the consequences. I made my choice, and I’m living my life.”
Breath held, she waited for Lora’s response. Would she be disgusted that Izzy didn’t help family? That she didn’t help her own sister, brother-in-law and nieces?
Thoughtfully, Lora chewed on a mouthful of curry, wiped her lips with the paper napkin, and hunted down a piece of beef in the bowl with her spoon. “Family come in different varieties. Some are blood, some are not. Real family stick up for each other, they’re there for each other. That’s family. I believe you did the right thing.”
Relief flooded Izzy.
Placing the spoon down in the bowl, Lora pushed it aside, linked her fingers in that way she did so often, and leaned her forearms on the table, studying Izzy intently. “I like you, Izzy. I respect what you did for your Mum, I respect your decision now.”
A little embarrassed, but relieved nevertheless, Izzy smiled. “Thanks, Mrs Dawson.”
“Just don’t let what happened eat your soul out.”
“I try. I thought I was over it.”
“But seeing them brought it all back.”
“Yes.” Izzy nodded. “But somehow, telling it to you makes me feel a little better.” It was no lie, she felt like a little piece of weight had lifted from her heart.
“Have you told anyone else?”
“No.”
“Sometimes sharing it with someone helps put things into perspective.”
They smiled at each other. Then Lora picked up her coffee cup. “You’re also good for my son.”
That caught Izzy off-guard. “Pardon?”
“Jason is a serious boy, he doesn’t laugh a whole lot. But you, Izzy, you make him smile, you make him laugh. I’ve never seen him so happy.” Lora’s eyes warmed. “You might not be blood, but I think of you as family.”
Family? Izzy’s eyes widened. “I’ve only met you once, isn’t that a little…rash?”
Lora laughed. “You are so frank, Izzy. You’re refreshing. Just accept it graciously.”
“Oh, I do. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply-”
“Relax, dear. Now, stop picking at that thread.”
Automatically, Izzy obeyed.
“When you get home I want you to give Jason that cardigan.”
“Jason?” Izzy frowned in puzzlement. “My cardigan? Why?”
“Because he can give it to Harris tomorrow at the building site, and Harris can bring it home to me.” At Izzy’s blank look, Lora smiled. “Someone needs to mend it.”
Izzy looked down at the cardigan sleeve. Man, she’d done a good job of yanking the thread. It had pulled and now stuck out a whole lot more. “Thanks, Mrs Dawson. All I can do is hem and put a button on.”
“Maybe you need some sewing classes.”
Izzy couldn’t help the involuntary shudder.
Amused, Lora raised an eyebrow. “If you don’t sew, what do you do?”
“I’d staple the hems if I could, but the steel look just doesn’t cut it.”
“Velcro girl?”
“More my style.”
Regardless of how the time had started, Izzy and Lora spent the next half hour lingering over dessert and coffee chatting about general things, and by the time they left the café Izzy felt like she’d know Lora forever.
Pulling into her driveway, she got out of the car to see Jason in the late afternoon sunshine raking up the leaves from the big tree in his front yard. At the sight of her, he grinned widely, leaning the rake against the tree and coming over to the fence dividing the houses. Leaning his forearms on the fence, he watched her approach.
“Hi.” She smiled up at him.
He crooked a finger. “Come here.”
It didn’t take a genius to know what he was thinking, not when his gaze lingered on her lips then lifted to hers with a flare of heat.
Leaning her own forearms on the fence, she smiled up at him. “You called?”
“Yep.” He pecked a kiss on her lips. “I’d say I missed you, but that makes me sound desperate.”
“Desperate is good,” she assured him.
“Is that
so?” He dropped another kiss on her lips before drawing back enough to rub the tip of his nose against hers. “Isn’t this the way Eskimos greet each other?”
“Have you been watching documentaries?”
“No, I just heard it somewhere along the track.”
“Must be a mighty interesting track.” Feeling happy and relaxed, she gestured to the rake. “Been a busy boy I see.”
He glanced at the rake. “I try. Idle hands, devil, that kind of thing.”
“Uncle Harris’s words of wisdom?”
“He has a lot of those when he thinks they’re called for.”
“Well, when you finish raking, I’ve a little something for you.”
A gleam entered his eyes. “A little something for me?”
A tingle went through her. Stepping back, she smacked his arm lightly. “Food. I meant snack food. Chocolate biscuits, in fact.”
“More than one way to feed the body, baby.”
Laughing, she started for the house. “Come over when you’re ready.”
“I’ll just clean up and be right there to feed my appetite.”
“I think you might be overestimating the invitation, Jason.”
“You think you slipping into something more comfortable is overestimating?”
Laughing, she unlocked the door and went inside.
Arnie met her at the kitchen doorway meowing loudly.
Getting the ‘roo mince out of the ‘fridge, she filled his food bowl. “I’m surprised you didn’t just waltz right over to Jason’s and demand food from him.”
Catching sight of the thread on her cardigan, she slipped it off. Maybe she’d take Mrs Dawson up on her offer to fix the cardigan, she was partial to it.
The front door opened, Jason calling out, “You didn’t lock the door!”
“I knew you were coming.” Opening the pantry, she pulled out the packet of assorted chocolate biscuits she’d been hoarding for a special occasion. “Come in and sit down. Or do you want them in the lounge?”
“Lounge. Let’s get comfortable.”
There was no pretending not to hear the combined laughter and heat in his voice.
Grinning, she shook the biscuits into a bowl, grabbed two glasses of orange juice, placed them all onto a small tray and carried it through into the lounge.
Standing beside the sofa, Jason held up a crumpled piece of paper. “Looks like Arnie has been raiding your mail.”
Recognizing the writing, Izzy froze. It was the letter from Moira pleading for her help. Pleading.
Had he read it? Seen some of the words? Her heart thumped hard. It didn’t look like he’d read it, it was still crumpled.
Jason frowned. “Are you all right, Iz?”
“Have - have you read it?” Izzy asked with dread. God, if he’s read it and freaks…
“It’s not mine, so no.” Concern and curiosity flickered through his eyes. “Is something wrong?”
Slowly, carefully, she placed the tray on the table before straightening.
“Izzy.” Moving up to her, Jason touched her shoulder. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
Tipping her head back, she met his gaze. She so desperately wanted him to understand. It was nothing huge. No, not true. Maybe not to someone else, but to her it was huge.
Folding her arms, she searched his face, seeing the concern, the kindness, the strength. Relationships based on secrets had never been part of her, had never needed to be. She was in a relationship. He’d shared with her, told her things others might have hesitated to tell, but he’d respected her enough to share his story.
She had to respect him in turn. Trust him.
She sank down onto the sofa. “Read the note.”
Sitting beside her, his knee touching hers, he held the crumpled paper out, his expression serious. “I don’t need to.”
Izzy took a deep breath. “I need you to.”
“Iz-”
“You trusted me, Jason.” Placing a hand on his knee. “I’m trusting you.”
Face softening, he covered her hand with his. “Then that’s enough for me.”
“Please. Read it.”
After several seconds he turned his attention to the paper, smoothed out the wrinkled sheet and read in silence while Izzy held her breath. Not one expression crossed his face when he finished and looked at her. “Okay.”
Reaching out, she took the paper and crushed it in her hand.
A long, strong arm slid around her shoulders, squeezed her to the leanly muscled chest, warm lips pressing a kiss to her temple. “Want to talk about it?”
Surrounded by his strength, his acceptance, his caring, Izzy let out a long sigh. “Yes.”
This time it was easier.
Jason was quiet while she spoke. When she finally stopped, he simply said, “I’m proud of you.”
“Proud of me?” Surprised, she pulled back, turned to face him.
Taking her hands in his, Jason regarded her soberly. “You didn’t give in, you stood up for yourself. That took guts.”
“Some would say I should have helped.”
“You offered to get that useless prick a job. That was way more help than just handing over your savings for him to squander.” Leaning forward, Jason pressed a kiss to her brow. “They ever bother you again, I’m right behind you.”
Relieved - a feeling she was getting a lot in the last couple of hours - she smiled up at him. “Behind me? Not in front of me?”
“Behind you, in front of you, beside you. I’m with you all the way.” He kissed the tip of her nose, leaned his forehead against hers. “All the way, Iz.”
“So sweet.” She kissed him gently, gratefully, feeling so protected for the first time in so long.
“You’re the only one who has ever called me sweet.” His hands slid beneath the sleeves of her cardigan to stroke along her forearms, eliciting little shivers through her at the sensation of his calloused fingertips lightly abrading her skin.
“You don’t give yourself enough credit.” She met his mouth, leaned into his kiss. Whispered against his lips, “I do like you a whole lot, Jason Dawson. Might even have a crush on you.”
He laughed softly against her lips. “Ditto, Isadora Kempton. Only I know my crush is no ‘maybe’.”
The kiss changed, grew deeper, going from combined amusement and attraction to hotter intimacy.
His body was warm, the skin beneath his shirt almost hot over the swells of his abs. Izzy spread her hands over the muscles, her body already remembering the sensation of being pressed against him, accepting him into her.
The flare between them grew rapidly hotter, need surging through her in an almost desperate rush of desire. Impatiently, she drew his old flannel shirt down over his broad shoulders, tossing it aside.
Jason stripped her cardigan off her, and before she knew it he’d whipped her t-shirt off as well and was working on her bra.
Izzy would have blanched at the thought of being half naked in front of him in broad daylight, but Jason didn’t give her a chance. He ravaged her mouth, licked deep, taking over so fast, almost dominating, yet not once did she feel overpowered.
The way he groaned into her mouth as he pushed her backwards onto the sofa was a balm to her doubts, the power of his hands beneath her bottom urging her hips up sending a thrill through her, the way he stripped off her slacks and panties along with her ballet flats while giving a growl of approval as his gaze raked down her when he straightened enough to toss her clothes aside letting her know how much he hungered for her.
That hunger was undeniable. The gleam in his eyes was pure ardour, hot need, carnal craving all wrapped up together.
For her.
It stroked her confidence, had her reaching for him, welcoming him as he rose above her, the swells of his pecs pressing against her breasts.
He kissed with single-minded focus - his pleasure and hers. He found what she liked, repeated it, licked deep, filled her with his taste.
Her sexual appetite was roaring to
life, fire burning through her with every stroke of his palm on her skin, every growl of prurience that escaped him as he feasted on her mouth with hot enjoyment.
He moved lower, licking, laving her with his tongue, and then his mouth found a nipple, made her arch up, her hands tangling in his hair as every strong draw of his mouth pulled on strings of desire buried deep inside her, sending sparks wildly dancing along her nerves, sizzling and snapping, growing ever hotter, ever more sizzling as he moved to her other nipple, nipped tenderly, sucked strongly.
Her whimpers filled the air, her panting breaths, and when he finally shifted lower she could only follow his wordless orders, her thighs parting further as those broad shoulders demanded room.
“Oh God.” Head back, she bit her lip as his breath hit the slick flesh bared to him.
Hard hands gripped her thighs, slid behind her knees, bent her legs, giving him complete access to her secrets.
Then the final breach, his thumbs sliding between the sheltering labia, parting her.
She couldn’t think, embarrassment washing through her swiftly followed by glorious, scorching, wet heat as Jason licked her. From low on her perineum right up to the curve where her labia met at the top.
It was too much, too quick, too soon. Not enough. She squirmed, a keen breaking out of her when firm lips closed around her hidden pearl, sucked it out, made it strain and swell and fill her with agonising pleasure as his tongue curled around the pearl and began a tiny, stroking motion to go with each strong suck.
She shattered so fast she didn’t know what happened, flung out into wild waves of heart pounding desire, sucked back in by swirling flares of fire that just grew hotter and hotter as he played her, sending the waves crashing again and again, mercilessly pushing her up before pounding her under in a wild ride of eroticism.
Breasts heaving with every ragged breath, she opened her eyes to find him above her, his eyes hot, glittering, firm lips smiling with ravenous ardour. His legs, now bare, slid against hers, his thighs between hers, his arms braced either side of her as he rose up, biceps bulging as he took his weight. His breath sucked in, the lean muscles swelling as he inhaled, his shaft probing her secrets, finding the weeping entrance to her body, his hips flexing as he thrust inwards.
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