Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
Sneak Peek: Irrepressible You
Acknowledgements
About the Author
For Tony
and
For Anja, the most kickass lady to ever don a hardhat.
Dear Reader
This is just a little note to give you my heartfelt thanks for purchasing Unforgettable You, the prequel to my debut, Irrepressible You.
Both novels stand on their own, but just in case you start reading Unforgettable You and wonder where Amy’s delicious gentleman Ben is, I can assure you he’s standing in the wings, probably doing something incredibly naughty while he waits his turn.
I hope you enjoy Stephen and Jo’s story. I know I had a marvelous time writing it, even if my pesky little cat Milli Vanilli seems to think the entire thing was her idea in the first place.
Warmest Regards and Happy Reading!
Georgina Penney
Chapter 1
‘What the hell?’
Jo Blaine’s motorbike helmet bounced off antique pine floorboards with a dull plastic thud as she took in the state of her Fremantle penthouse apartment.
This was so not the way she’d left it when she’d flown out to her offshore oil job in Mauritania. No way.
There was a rumpled tartan throw rug and a pillow on one of her cream leather couches, a bright-red coffee cup—her favourite damn coffee cup—was sitting on her hand-cut glass-and-jarrah coffee table and the books in her bookshelves looked as if they’d been rifled through.
She took a step further inside, kicking a pair of expensive-looking, size-fourteen men’s leather shoes out of her way, and immediately felt a cool breeze against her cheek.
The sliding door leading to the balcony was wide open, letting in the scent of a recent summer shower on bitumen. The sounds of distant traffic and boats going up and down the Swan River filtered in, an incongruous backing track to her growled exclamation.
Definitely not how she’d left it before.
‘Hello? Anyone here?’ She turned back around, narrowed eyes searching for a coffee-loving, couch-sleeping, male Goldilocks but only saw her massive silver Maine Coon cat, Boomba, who chose that moment to waddle past with a pair of men’s undies firmly clasped in his mouth. His fat furry backside moved side to side as he disappeared into the kitchen, where Jo could see stacked Domino’s pizza boxes on the counter. Her temper, always on a short fuse after a long, sleepless flight, began to sizzle and fizz as she put the clues together.
She only knew one man with size-fourteen feet. That same man had a key to her apartment and was about to experience the flaming wrath of a jetlagged woman. ‘Scott? Where the hell are you?’ She called out her best friend’s name as she kicked off her steel-capped boots and reached into her pocket for her phone. She held it to her ear, hearing nothing but dial tone, feeling herself getting more and more worked up.
Boomba waddled past her again, chirruping around his mouthful. His expression said clearly that as far as he was concerned, she should forget her house invader, admire the thing he’d killed and give him a pat.
‘And what the hell are you doing here, fuzz ball?’ Jo reached down and plucked the underwear out of his mouth, throwing it away. ‘You’re supposed to be at Amy’s. Want to tell me what’s going on?’ The cat gave her his usual entitled feline stare and then butted his head into her shin.
‘You’re no help.’ She walked through the living room, kicking a pair of socks out of her way, and stopped short in front of the vibrant blue-and-green abstract painting she’d bought last time she was in town. It was askew, as if someone had knocked it, and she felt something inside her snap.
This was not cool. Not. Cool. Her house was supposed to be empty. Her cat was supposed to be at her sister’s and there wasn’t supposed to be a . . . man anywhere within a good twenty metres of her right now, even if he was her best mate. She’d spent the last sixteen weeks surrounded by Y chromosomes and all she’d been looking forward to was a blessedly empty, male-free environment.
Scott finally answered, his tone suitably shocked. ‘Jo? What time is it over there?’
‘It’s eight in the morning. I’m home. In Perth. Where are you?’
‘Home?’ Scott’s deep voice momentarily took on choirboy heights he hadn’t achieved since pre-puberty. ‘You’re supposed to be on holiday in Brazil!’
Jo squeezed her eyes tightly shut. ‘Yes. Home. I cancelled the holiday because I wanted to be home. You know, that place I like to come when I’m not on some rusting oil rig in the middle of nowhere? You know that place? The place you were looking after. The place currently being lived in by someone who has feet the size of yours. The place currently containing my cat, who should be at Amy’s.’
‘Ahh. Yeah. About that.’
‘Yeah, about what? What the hell is going on?’
There was a moment of silence and then a dull thud as if something had been hit, quite hard. ‘I’ll explain, but it’s probably better I do it in person.’
‘What? Why? I just want an answer and I want it now!’
‘You’ll get one . . . just . . . just stay there. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. We’ll get all this sorted out. I’m sorry, Jo.’
Jo scowled, turning around, taking in the disorder and feeling a renewed sense of outrage. ‘You bloody well better be. And bring me some goddamn coffee. I haven’t slept properly for days and all I wanted was to have a shower and fall into bed and instead—’
‘Ten minutes,’ he said with an edge of frustration in his tone that had better not be aimed at her. Given the mood she was in at the present moment, she’d be able to take Scott on one-on-one. They didn’t call her Krakatoa out on the rigs for nothing.
Jo hung up, looking around until her eyes settled on her bedroom door.
There was no way Scott would make it in ten minutes, let alone fifteen, and she was tired.
Shooing Boomba out of the way with her foot, she headed for her room.
The feeling of tiredness was blasted to smithereens the minute she pushed the door open, took in the contents of her bed and roared with rage. ‘Who the hell are you?!’
‘AAGGHH! Gnph.’ The very naked, very buff and all-over tanned blond man who’d until that moment been sleeping spread-eagled on her bed shouted in surprise, leapt to his feet, tripped over Jo’s cat and fell facedown on the floor.
‘Hurry up Rach! Jesus Christ, what have you got in here? A couple of cows?’ Stephen Hardy finished effortlessly loading the last of his twin sister’s suitcases into the back of his black Lexus, enjoying the indignant howl coming from inside his family’s home. He shuffled things around enough to make sure everything fit, then straightened, putting his hands behind his head and stretching. His mouth curved into a wide, happy grin.
It was a glorious morning, made all the better for the fact that he’d stayed overnight at Evangeline’s Rest, his family’s winery. The air was crisp, the sun had only just made an appearance and all around him magpies were singing the dawn chorus; a bunch of them perched on the bird feeder his grandma, Angie hu
ng in front of the winery’s cellar door and restaurant across the way.
Off in the distance he could hear his dad’s dairy cows mooing, heading out after their morning milking, and the faint sound of a tractor somewhere on the Rousses’ property next door.
‘It’s gonna be tough to go back to town.’ He heaved a sigh. ‘Hey, trouble,’ he said to Waffles, his brother’s Australian cattle dog, who’d quit inspecting his tyres for the latest doggy news and had parked herself on his foot. He reached down and gave her a scratch behind the ears.
‘She ready to go yet?’ Stephen’s dad, Rob, called out as he walked around the side of the house followed by Stephen’s older brother, Clayton. Their dark curly hair was wet from washing up after the morning milking. Stephen had given them a hand but he’d had to come back early to kick Rachael out of bed and get her ready to go. That had been half an hour ago.
He shook his head. ‘Nah. She’s still mucking around.’ He turned towards the house, raising his voice again. ‘You’re only going for a couple of months, not a couple of years, Rach! What else do you need?’
‘A new brother! And I’ll be ready when I’m ready!’ his sister roared back at him, coming to the front door, glaring at him and then retreating again.
He grinned, giving his dad and Clayton a wink. ‘Hey, Dad?’
‘Yeah?’
‘I’m gonna need a hand getting this last case to fit properly. Give it a kick for us?’
Rob scratched his jaw, looking thoughtful, making sure his voice was just as loud as Stephen’s when he spoke. ‘It’s not going to work, mate. We’re better off just taking it over to the shearing shed and shoving it in the wool compactor.’
‘Or we could always just pull’em out and repack’em for her. There’s probably a ton of stuff she doesn’t need,’ Clayton joined in.
‘IF YOU EVEN DARE . . .’ Rachael came barrelling out of the house, dragging a smaller carry-on case and looking like a Renaissance Madonna ready to commit homicide, dark-brown eyes narrowed, long curly brown hair standing out at all angles.
She came to a stop when she found all three men grinning at her before rounding on Stephen, giving him the look she’d quelled her kitchen staff with for years. ‘You are so dead.’
Stephen pulled same innocent expression that had worked for thirty years and counting, his baby blues open wide, his mouth downturned in shock. ‘For what?! I didn’t do anything.’
Clayton ran a hand over his mouth to cover his smile. ‘I was here and I’m pretty sure he didn’t. Dad?’
‘Yeah. Yeah. Nothing to worry about, love.’ Rob gave his only daughter a benevolent smile. ‘You ready to go?’
Rachael’s ire momentarily dimmed and she bit her lip. ‘Yeah, I think so—’
‘Pretty sure I didn’t see her pack the kitchen sink,’ Stephen interrupted, howling with laughter when Rachael tried to level a punch at him and missed.
‘It’s easy for you! You travel all the time and all you have to pack is a couple of suits, undies and socks. I’m different. This is my first big holiday for years and I don’t want to forget anything.’ She stomped up to the car, dragging the hand-carry behind her. ‘Help me fit this in or you’re going to be wishing you’d swapped that marketing degree you’re so proud of for medicine.’
‘I didn’t hear you whingeing about my marketing degree last night.’ Stephen debated remote-locking his car to wind up his sister some more but decided to play nice.
He was in too good a mood. They all were. Last night he’d verbally clinched a business deal that would see the Evangeline’s Rest label on the wine list of Etienne’s, one of the most prestigious restaurants in Western Australia.
He’d been working on the deal for months. If he was honest, it had helped that Bridgett Cowcher, the restaurant’s owner, and he had a thing going. If it was a small part of the reason behind his good mood right now, he wasn’t going to complain.
Rachael slammed shut the car door. ‘So are we going? If I’m late for my flight, you are such a dead man.’
Stephen didn’t bite. He knew how nervous Rachael was about taking this trip. Half the reason he was giving her so much hell was to distract her. ‘Don’t stress. We’ll be there in plenty of time. It’s only a domestic flight and the security is easy.’
‘Are you sure?’ She pressed her lips together, shoving her hands in her jeans pockets.
‘He flies enough, love, so he should know.’ Rob walked over and pulled his daughter into a tight hug.
‘Yeah, but he’s an idiot, Dad.’
Gravel crushed behind them as an old, battered red Corolla pulled up. Ken Blaine, the Hardys’ farmhand of twenty-eight years, climbed out. ‘You off then, love?’ Ken called out to Rachael, a cheerful grin on his face. As always, the man’s blue Hard Yakka work shorts and shirt were ironed to military perfection, with creases that would make a Boy Scout master envious.
‘Yeah,’ Rachael called back before turning to Clayton, her expression becoming military-serious. ‘You definitely understand what I want them to do with the restaurant’s kitchen while I’m away? I don’t want to come back and find out they’ve put in the wrong extractor fan or something crazy.’
While Clayton assured his sister he could take care of the renovations that were allowing Rachael to take a couple of months off as head chef, Stephen walked over to Ken.
His good mood was now diminished, replaced by the sharp pang of guilt he always felt around his family’s farmhand. ‘Ken, how are you?’
‘G’day, mate,’ Ken closed his car door, reaching out immediately to shake Stephen’s hand. ‘Long time no see.’ The older man looked Stephen up and down. ‘Looks like you’re doing all right for yourself.’
Stephen ran his hand through his hair. ‘Yeah. I’ve been pretty busy.’
Ken gave a rasping chuckle. ‘Hear you’ve done well for us as well. Your dad said something about you signing a big contract with some posh restaurant.’
‘Yeah, verbally at least, last night. Evangeline’s Rest is going to be stocked at Etienne’s in the city. You heard of it?’ Stephen instantly regretted the question. Ken didn’t earn that kind of money and from what Stephen knew, rarely left the farm nowadays other than to go into the small nearby town, George Creek. It had been like that for almost fourteen years since Stephen had screwed up Ken’s life big time by publicly humiliating Jo, Ken’s oldest daughter, so badly she and her sister, Amy, had been sent to live with family in Perth. Just the memory of it all still made Stephen squirm inside.
For some reason Ken had forgiven him years ago, but Stephen still hadn’t forgiven himself.
Ken shook his head, oblivious to Stephen’s dark turn down memory lane. ‘Have I heard of it? Nah, mate, nah. Although, if you think it’s posh, it’s probably pretty damn posh. Good work.’ He clapped Stephen on the shoulder. ‘How’s your girlfriend, Lauren, going? Haven’t seen her around for a while.’
‘We split about six months back.’ Stephen forced an easygoing smile. ‘You know how it is.’
Ken ran a hand over his sun-grizzled features. ‘Don’t I know it. Women, eh?’
There was a pregnant pause before Stephen clapped a hand on his thigh. ‘Well, got to get this show on the road. Nice seeing you, mate.’
‘Yeah, catch you later.’ Ken shook his hand again, then reached into his pocket for his ever-present pack of tobacco and papers, efficiently rolling a cigarette with the kind of autopilot that came from decades of practice. ‘I don’t want to interrupt your dad right now,’ he nodded towards Rob, who still had his arm wrapped around Rachael, ‘but if you get a chance, tell him we’ve got a problem with the fence on Evans Road. I’m headed over there now.’
‘Will do,’ Stephen said, watching as the man got back in his car and drove off.
Waffles butted his leg.
‘Yeah, you’re right.’ Stephen gave the dog a half-smile. ‘It’s not worth getting worked up over, is it? Old news, eh?’
The dog looked up at him with far-too-in
telligent eyes and Stephen gave her another pat before clapping his hands together. ‘All right, break it up, you lot. She’s not falling off the end of the earth. Get in the car, Rach. The sooner you’re on the plane, the sooner we can redecorate your restaurant as a sports bar.’
His sister’s growl of protest lightened his mood immediately.
‘Does Ken know you’re house-sitting Jo’s apartment?’ Rachael asked after they’d been on the road for five or so.
Stephen looked at her sideways. ‘How’d you know that?’
‘Scott.’ Rachael rolled her eyes. ‘He came down to the farm last week, remember?’
‘Yeah?’ Stephen slowed down as a family of kangaroos hopped across the narrow, gum-tree-lined road that led to George Creek, the small southwestern town in the Margaret River Wine Region that the bulk of the Hardy family had lived in their entire lives. ‘I said more words to Ken today than I have in years and nah, he doesn’t know. I don’t feel comfortable bringing up any of that stuff around him.’
‘Yeah.’ Rachael began rifling through a handbag that looked as if it had been packed for an upcoming apocalypse. ‘This house-sitting deal some kind of guilt thing?’
‘Yeah and no.’ Stephen didn’t see a reason to lie. His sister was a rabid bloodhound when it came to a secret. Not that him causing Jo Blaine’s public humiliation at an Evangeline’s Rest family Christmas party fourteen years ago was that much of a secret. If people hadn’t been talking at the party, they’d definitely been talking after Jo and Amy had left town for good to live in Perth rather than face everyone.
In one act of jealousy, Stephen had effectively smashed Ken Blaine’s family to smithereens.
He spoke to chase away the old ache in his stomach. ‘Scott mentioned that Jo needed someone to look after her place and her cat for a couple of months while she was working overseas in . . . Mauritania I think it was . . . somewhere in Western Africa . . . and since I’m still trying to sort out the sale of the house with Lauren, I thought I’d help her out. While I’m there, I’ll be able to fix up a couple of things around her apartment as well. There’s a leak in the kitchen sink, she’s got a broken air conditioner and I noticed the barbeque on her balcony is pretty past it, so I’ll get her a new one. It’s not really going to make up for what happened but it’s a start, you know?’
Unforgettable You: Destiny Romance Page 1