‘Stephen, I’m on a rig offshore of Mauritania. I got up three hours early to call you on the one available phone. I’ve not slept, and I’m about to start a twelve-hour shift. What’s going on?’ she demanded, allowing her lack of sleep and growing irritation to edge into her voice.
‘You know, it’s better I send you an email and explain everything. What’s your email address?’ Stephen’s calm tone just ratcheted Jo’s frustration levels higher.
‘I’d rather talk about it now,’ Jo snapped.
‘Yeah. Well, that’s not going to work. Sorry’bout this. Just give me your address, and I’ll explain everything.’
Jo sighed loudly. ‘All right.’ Then she rattled off her email address and hung up.
Returning to bed wasn’t an option, so she ventured forth to the sack room to get an idea of whether the Hedgehog had set her up for another twelve hours of hell.
Stephen stood looking down at the phone, calling himself three kinds of idiot. He should have known better than to say anything to Scott. Then he wouldn’t have been put in this situation. He believed in keeping things private and the conversation he wanted to have with Jo definitely came under that category. There was no way he was going to talk about stuff with Bridgett listening in.
‘Are you ready?’ Bridgett asked, briskly buttoning a black, immaculately fitted jacket over the crisp white shirt she wore. She’d stopped by early this morning with breakfast from a local delicatessen and they’d just spent the past hour discussing the future of cabernet sauvignon in domestic markets before Stephen was due to accompany her to one of her restaurants to give his opinion on their wine cellar.
He knew the whole trip was probably only a means for Bridgett to show off her business acumen, so he didn’t feel that bad in delaying things just a couple of minutes.
‘I’ll be right with you. I just have to write an email,’ Stephen replied, striding over to his laptop and starting it up. He had a lot to say and it’d take far too long to belt it out on his phone.
‘You can do that later,’ Bridgett said impatiently. ‘Where are my heels?’
‘By the couch and later’s not an option,’ he said, sitting down and already beginning to type.
The original plan he’d hammered out with Jo and Scott had been for him to stay and house-sit for only a couple of months, but he’d given it some thought and he’d decided he wanted to stay longer, even if that meant paying Jo full rent. He didn’t want to question it past that, other than acknowledging that he didn’t want to leave yet, not while he still had this chance to pay Jo back the debt he owed her. And yeah, he wanted to get to know her better . . . if he was honest, he wanted her, but he wasn’t going to presume that was going to happen. Especially with his life being as complicated as it was.
‘I don’t see why you can’t do this on your phone when we get there. We’re running late.’ Bridgett walked up behind him while liberally covering herself with perfume, and he wrinkled his nose. When they’d first hooked up, he’d enjoyed smelling it on all the places she spritzed it in the mornings, but all he wanted right now was a breath of fresh air.
‘Yeah, but we’re not actually meeting anyone. It’s just the two of us, so five minutes won’t make a difference. Plus I want to be able to concentrate on whatever you want to show me without worrying about this.’ He ignored the look she gave him, which was reminiscent of an old school librarian seeing a returned book with a bent cover.
He looked up and gave her his best professional smile. ‘I don’t mean to be rude but this is important, all right? We’re taking separate cars anyway so why don’t you head off and I’ll follow?’
Bridgett met his eyes and a long moment of unspoken communication passed between them before she nodded. ‘I’ll meet you there. I have to call Damian anyway.’
Stephen knew the minute she got on to the phone to her ex-husband and business partner, Bridgett would be ages. ‘Not a problem.’
It took him another ten minutes to get the email to Jo right but he had a feeling it’d be worth it.
‘So, man, I’ve often wondered . . . what exactly does a pussy whip look like? I thought you’d know, since you’re an expert at taking the pain and all,’ Mike mused, gazing idly at his feet propped up on Jo’s coffee table. He had a cold beer in his hand and was resting it comfortably on his stomach.
Stephen, who was on to his second beer of the evening and lay sprawled out on the other couch, turned away from the TV to level a glare at his smartarse brother, who’d been spoiling for a fight all afternoon, ever since he’d fielded a call from someone in the UK. Stephen hadn’t heard much of the conversation, but the end result had been Mike’s mood taking a dive to subzero temperatures.
He knew better than to rise to the bait, but at the same time, he couldn’t let this one slide. ‘Come again?’
‘We-e-ell.’ Mike ran a hand over his jaw. ‘I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but . . .’ He looked around theatrically, eyes open wide. ‘You’re a bit of a fuck-up.’
‘Says the fuck-up who hasn’t had a proper job in how long?’ Stephen scoffed.
‘I make enough money.’ Mike scowled at the TV.
‘Doing what?’
‘This and that. Worked in a bar for a while last year. That wasn’t too bad. It’s enough to live happily in London.’
‘So remind me, when are you going back to England again?’ Stephen asked, knowing full well when his brother’s flight was. In fact, he knew a hell of a lot more about his brother than Mike thought he did and he’d spent years waiting for Mike to spill the beans, but it didn’t look like that was gonna happen today.
‘Soon. Anyway, this isn’t about me. It’s about you and all of your screwed-up female relationships.’ Mike began counting on his fingers. ‘Lauren, Geriatric Barbie, and it’s not like Jo was that happy with you a couple of weeks back.’
Stephen sat up, feeling his placid mood deteriorating. ‘You right there? Or would you like me to turn over so you can take a chunk out of my back as well as my front? While you’re at it, you can lay off Bridgett. You go out with older women all the time, and need I remind you that you were the one that screwed things up with Jo for me.’
Mike obviously knew well enough to back off at the change in Stephen’s tone, so he reached for the remote instead and began to flick through the channels. ‘So have you sorted your living situation, or are you planning on sponging off Jo indefinitely?’ Mike settled on a cricket game. India was playing Australia. Australia was winning, so it was worth watching.
Okay, there was no way he was letting that slide. Stephen narrowed his eyes, leaning forward, his nostrils probably breathing fire. ‘What the fuck is that supposed to mean?’
Unfazed, Mike shrugged. ‘I like Jo. She’s a good chick. She’s been pretty nice about you staying here, but I wonder how she’d be if she knew you were just staying here until Lauren lets you crawl back to her? Let’s face it, if Lauren gave you a call right now, this fuzz ball sitting next to me, Jo and Geriatric Barbie would mean nothing. You’d be out of here in a minute.’
Stephen felt Mike’s words like a kick in the stomach. ‘Hey! Low blow, mate, low blow. And you’ve got no fucking idea. Lauren and I have nothing to do with me taking care of Jo’s place and you know it. Lauren and I are over. I’m just doing the gentlemanly thing and giving her a bit of time to sort stuff out. We were together for ten years. She must have had a good reason to end it—’
‘Which I bet she hasn’t told you—’
‘Which we’ll get around to talking about when we get to it. Haven’t you ever heard of giving things time? Ten years, mate, that needs time.’
‘Ten years means she should have the decency not to string you along like this. This is just some fucked-up power play and you’re falling for it. You were always way too nice to the chicks. Other than that one time with Jo, you’ve been Captain fucking Doormat. When are you gonna learn that if you treat’em mean . . .’ Mike let his words trail off, his smarmy expression tu
rning into something far more serious. ‘Anyway, enough of this shit. The point I’m making is don’t screw the nice one over for the second time in your life because some bitch is holding you for ransom.’
Stephen could feel his blood boiling, the vapour pouring out of his ears. ‘Just get to the point. What are you trying to say? I asked you over for a beer, not to give me shit. You’re just looking for a fight and I’ll be fucked if I’ll give you one.’
Mike stayed silent for a few minutes, his expression brooding as he watched the TV. ‘You been in Jo’s bedroom yet?’
Stephen’s eyes narrowed. ‘What? What’s Jo’s bedroom got to do with it?’
‘A lot. Check out the photo near her bed one day.’
‘While you’re at it, why don’t you tell me to go through her underwear drawer? I bet you did.’
‘Wouldn’t hurt you to take a look at some undies that belong to someone under ninety.’ Mike was already standing up as Stephen launched himself at him.
Stephen woke up the next morning to the sound of a phone ringing. Since he’d given just a few people Jo’s home number, he muzzily concluded it could only be his sister calling from whatever beach she was currently lounging on. Or it could be that prank caller who had been ringing every day or so. Nah, whoever that was had the consideration to wait until after six at night—only family would be heartless enough to wake up a man with a hangover this early on a Saturday.
He rolled off the couch where he’d passed out the night before and scrambled around for the phone on the coffee table, noticing that Mike, sprawled out on the other couch, was either comatose or being lazy. Picking up the phone, he clicked the answer button and mumbled, ‘Bugger off, Rach,’ into the receiver.
There was silence. Maybe his crank caller had changed schedule.
Then a distant, muffled voice asked, ‘Stephen? Is that you?’
Stephen lightly thumped his hand on his forehead. Idiot! ‘Jo?’
‘Yeah.’ She sounded pissed off. ‘I got your email and wanted to talk to you about things. You got a few minutes?’
‘Yeah, sure. How are you?’ He ran a hand over his face, feeling stubble and wincing at the throbbing behind his temples.
‘Tired.’ Her voice was huskier than usual. He could almost feel her exhaustion travelling down the phone. It was obvious Jo’s job was anything but sweetness and light. He felt a sense of relief in knowing he’d done the right thing by taking the time to send that email after her last call.
‘We can do this another time.’ He ignored Mike’s bloodshot querying expression. His big brother was no doubt feeling the effects of the beer they’d drunk after they’d decided they were too evenly matched to punch the crap out of each other yesterday.
‘No more delays. Took me half an hour to get to the phone as it was, and I have to get up stupidly early to catch you before my shift. Look, you said in your email you wanted to talk about how long you were staying. Has something changed? Do we need to sort something else out for Boomba?’
Stephen winced. The worry in Jo’s voice told him that Mike’s little comment the night before hadn’t been as out of line as he’d thought. He mustn’t have done a good enough job at reassuring her in his email as he should have. He hadn’t felt comfortable talking specific time frames because he’d wanted to scope out Jo first, but in retrospect, maybe he should have been more detailed.
He didn’t feel that comfortable with old eagle-eye, radar-ears Mike listening in and padded into the kitchen to begin making coffee.
‘Yeah, I just wanted to confirm you were cool with everything. We never really talked about how long I’d be here and I thought it’d be better to set it in stone to put your mind at ease. The little furry guy and I are getting on pretty well. I won’t say it’s love, could just be him lusting after my bodily warmth. Wouldn’t mind a few more months to see if it’s just a crush or something more serious.’ It was true. The damn lion of a cat had grown on him and took up most of his bed most nights. He’d never have believed cats could snore if anyone had told him six months ago either.
There was a surprised silence, then he was rewarded with a low chuckle on the other end of the phone. ‘So it’s like that, is it? I go to work and find out my man’s been cheating on me. He’s not sleeping around too, is he?’
‘Shares my bed every night. Takes up half the blankets too.’
‘The little two-timing bastard. One has to ask, as the injured party you understand, what’s in it for me?’ Stephen could hear Jo’s smile, international crappy connection and her obvious exhaustion aside, and grinned in relief.
He poured two cups of coffee and walked back into the living room, handing Mike’s to him.
‘Well, I could provide some form of chauffeur service to and from the airport for your next trip home, complete with the added bonus of my pizza-ordering skills. I may even extend myself to offering you another massage or two.’
Mike raised both eyebrows at that one. More worrying to Stephen was the long silence from Jo.
‘Sounds good,’ she said eventually then cleared her throat. ‘I’ll send you my flight details.’
‘No worries.’ Stephen grinned to himself. ‘Take it easy, eh? You sound completely exhausted.’
‘I am. Hey, I gotta go. Talk to you soon.’
Stephen barely had time to say goodbye before he heard the click as she hung up.
‘Massage service, eh?’ Mike asked, waggling his eyebrows.
‘Shaddup.’
Chapter 6
Four weeks later, Stephen stood in the arrivals lounge of Perth Airport, nursing an exorbitantly priced takeaway coffee and scanning the arrivals screen for Jo’s flight. It had landed ten minutes before, but from past experience he knew she’d be another twenty minutes or so getting through immigration and customs.
Finding a convenient seat, he settled in to people-watch for a while. He was surprised by the anxiety he was currently feeling. The only people he’d ever picked up from the airport before fell into one of two distinct categories: business or personal. For the life of him, he couldn’t quite work out where Jo fell. Was she his landlord? An old friend? She definitely wasn’t the latter, but the former wasn’t right either.
She’d called two more times in the last month—ostensibly to ask about her cat—but they’d ended up talking about their respective jobs along with just generally discussing their days and had ended each conversation laughing. He’d found himself looking forward to her calls. They were a welcome respite from the confusion in his private life, especially his relationships. If that’s what they could be called.
He inwardly gave himself a shake. One in the morning wasn’t a good time to think about how Bridgett has started getting more and more possessive of his time and had been trying to use sex to manipulate him into doing what she wanted. Neither was it the time to think about the last disastrous, angry conversation he’d had with Lauren about selling their apartment.
He’d called Lauren, trying to reason with her and explain that things would be a hell of a lot better if they just sat down and talked things through. She’d responded by telling him that he took her for granted and had again accused him of ‘not getting it’. Whatever the hell that had meant. It had taken everything in him to stay calm, to not lose his temper, but by the time they’d finished talking, Lauren had been crying and yelling at him and he’d had one hell of a headache from gritting his teeth.
She was right, he didn’t get it. He didn’t get how two people who’d gotten on so well, who’d been best friends and lovers for ten years, had come to this.
He was so caught up brooding, he almost missed spotting Jo when she emerged through the exit. When he did see her, it was with a completely unexpected surge of happiness that washed away the anger.
Happiness that looked a far cry from how Jo was feeling at that moment.
She was a wreck. Her clothes, a pair of low-riding jeans and a faded black T-shirt, were rumpled. Her short hair was a tousled, faded, brown
mess, and her high cheekbones were bleached with exhaustion. Even her brown eyes were bloodshot with deep violet shadows under them. She shouldn’t have looked sexy, but somehow she did. Stephen’s eyes wandered down to her midriff where her T-shirt didn’t meet her jeans, leaving a bare inch of skin exposed, and stayed there until she spoke.
‘Hi,’ she said, and he was pleasantly reminded how husky her voice sounded in person.
‘Hi, how are you?’ He cleared his throat noisily and tried to decide whether they knew each other well enough for a cheek kiss. Jo looked like she was having the same dilemma too, based on the way she nervously glanced at his mouth and then away. In the end Stephen settled for a welcoming smile. ‘Want to get going?’
‘Yeah. Sorry. I’m pretty tired.’
‘You look it. Want to give me your bag?’ He took the red canvas rig bag she was carrying out of her hands as he spoke, amazed at how light it was, then led the way towards the exit. As the doors slid open, he paused to watch Jo as she stopped still, smiling widely when the heat and the scent of hot asphalt and gum trees greeted their senses.
‘Smells like home,’ she sighed.
Jo stared up at the ceiling, wishing she could sleep. It wasn’t working. It wasn’t jetlag keeping her awake, either. No, it was her temporary housemate.
She’d thought Stephen had been joking when he’d offered to play taxi service; instead, he’d been waiting for her at the airport, actually looking happy to see her. When she’d first seen him standing there, all blond and tanned in slouching blue jeans and casual white shirt, she’d had to fight the urge to stop and shake her head to clear it. None of this made sense.
In fact, she’d spent much of the previous month wondering why the hell the guy wanted to stay in her place and help her out with her cat-sitting problem when he could obviously afford his own place. Evangeline’s Rest was a popular wine label, partially because of its high-quality wines but mainly because of Stephen’s prowess in marketing it. It just didn’t add up. She’d spent the time she hadn’t been pondering over that little puzzle trying to decide why she’d actually agreed to the whole thing. It had been in a fit of insanity. She’d just finished an awful shift, and his apologetic email had left her smiling for the first time in days.
Unforgettable You: Destiny Romance Page 9