by Jennie Jones
‘Nothing’s bothering me. And I don’t have a temper.’
He raised an eyebrow.
‘You’re talking about tone,’ she said, getting back to the subject. ‘It can be subtle, muted, contrasting or dramatic. Which is it to you?’
‘A bit of everything. It’s delicate—yet bold too. If that makes sense.’
‘Now you’re talking about the line of the work. And if delicate yet bold makes sense to you then that’s what the piece is to you.’
‘Actually, I was still talking about you.’
She met his gaze, got more than a little flustered by what she saw and took her focus back to the wall. ‘Let’s stick to art.’
‘Okay, well, it’s kind of organic,’ Josh said.
She gave him a surprised half-smile. ‘Why “organic”?’
Josh shrugged. ‘Hell, I don’t know. It just looks as though every piece came from something else. Like it’s growing.’
Her smile broadened instantly. ‘That’s exactly what I’d intended, in colour and content. How’d you know?’
Josh smiled. ‘University of life.’ He went on before she got a chance to give him a glib response: ‘So tell me about it. How does it work? Why did you make your choices of what to show and what not to?’
She sniffed to show indifference, but enjoyment of talking about her art always created a lightness in her mind and in her heart. ‘Every branch is from original families in town,’ she said. ‘Where families or people have gone, the branches wane. The leaves on the branch represent every person of that family.’
‘What’s all this?’ he asked, indicating the bits and pieces she’d painted by each family shield.
‘Where I can, I put a memento of each person somewhere on the branch. A block of quilting for Grace. A sack of sheep pellets for Ted. That sort of thing.’
‘An ice-cream cone for Mrs Tam,’ Josh said. ‘And a spatula.’ He laughed. ‘Where’s my branch?’
‘What makes you think you have one?’
He cocked his head. ‘You wouldn’t not put my mother on this.’
Well of course not! She just liked testing his patience. ‘There.’ She pointed to the top right-hand side of the wall.
Rutherford, the plaque said. She’d painted it green, like most of the others, but the wording was in pale gold, not black. She’d given his mother flowers. Rosebuds.
‘Thanks, Gem.’ Josh shoved his jacket aside and sank his hands into his jeans pockets as he stared at the representation of his only parent.
‘She always filled the toy shop with the roses from her garden.’
Josh nodded. ‘They were always all over our house too,’ he said. ‘Where am I?’
‘You left. You’re not on it.’
He pulled a hand from his pocket and pointed to something minuscule on his mother’s branch. ‘So what’s that on the end? Looks like a leaf in bud.’
She shrugged. ‘A slip of the brush.’
She glanced at him and found him studying her. In an instant she had another image in her mind. One where Josh swept his hands over the curves of her body. Where his mouth played with hers as he lay over her.
‘What is it?’ he asked, his voice quiet and for moment Gem wondered if he had the same image. If he tried to kiss her, would she let him? Would he try?
She shook the image out of her head. ‘You know,’ she said, moistening her top lip with her tongue, ‘there is something I need to tell you.’ And now was her chance when there was nobody around. No prying ears and inquisitive eyes. She took a deep breath. ‘Nobody knows that you didn’t realise it was me running your shop.’
‘I know.’
Her eyes widened. ‘Right, well here’s the thing. Let’s not worry them with the truth, okay?’
‘Agreed.’
She paused. ‘That was quick. Feeling bad about it?’
‘What’s your next request?’ He grinned. ‘It’s obvious you’re operating by some set of rules, although I have to say, none of them so far pertain to business.’
She ignored that and kept her gaze directly on his. ‘Don’t tell anyone about the kiss.’
He blinked, his grin slipping. They’d never spoken of it. She didn’t want to speak of it now either and probably neither did Josh, but it had to be said.
‘Why would I bring that up?’ he asked.
‘Because people will ask you what happened between us.’
‘And I’ll tell them nothing.’
‘That’s what I’ll tell them too.’
He was still studying her, and Gem tried to shake away the concerns crowding her, and show him nothing more than a passing interest in something that happened long ago.
‘You didn’t leave,’ he said suddenly. ‘Why not?’
‘Oh yes, I did.’ He really didn’t know anything! ‘I spent six years working in France and Italy.’
A number of expressions flitted over his features. Surprise, recognition, acknowledgement that he’d been wrong, and then a frown. ‘So what are you doing back in Swallow’s Fall?’
She tilted her head and smirked. ‘Living life and loving it.’
‘Small town, big drama stuff, eh?’
‘Small town, big dreams, Josh.’
He turned, and changed the subject, which was just as well because Gem felt like the conversation had been about to turn to bickering. ‘Where’d you get this from?’ he asked, putting a hand on the scaffolding.
‘Not that it’s any of your business,’ she said, crossing her arms over her chest, ‘but I bartered for it.’
‘How?’
‘I painted someone’s house.’
‘A mural?’
‘Hell no, Josh. A farmhouse. Every room. Top to bottom, inside and out. Window frames, doors, skirting boards, ceilings, walls.’
‘You mean ordinary painting and decorating?’
‘It’s not ordinary.’
‘It’s hard work, Gem.’
‘Tell me about it.’
He paused. ‘I want to tell you about a lot of things,’ he said at last.
He shook his head. ‘Maybe later.’ He straightened his shoulders, back to his city boy in the country stance. ‘If you’re in this sort of financial state,’ he said, ‘how are you going to buy the toy shop?’
She let her arms fall to her sides and glared at him. ‘So it’s back to business?’
He glanced at her, then focussed on her mouth. ‘It had better be, don’t you think?’ He brought his gaze to hers. ‘It’s easier this way.’
Gem held her breath. ‘Why?’ she asked at last.
‘Because I’m not staying.’
Why he felt the need to remind her of this, she didn’t know. Maybe more for himself. He looked pained about something.
‘There’s something wrong, Gem. What is it?’
‘Nothing. Everything’s fine. Why would anything be wrong?’ She felt bold and brave in her work boots and her poppy-red lipstick, but inside she was scared and lost.
‘Is it about the kiss?’
A flush crept from her throat to her face, but she didn’t lose eye contact. She ran a hand through her hair, tousled as always.
‘Sorry to ask,’ he said quietly.
‘I don’t want to discuss it again.’
‘No deal.’
‘What do you mean, no deal?’
He stepped close to her, so close she could smell his hair and his skin. He lowered his voice. ‘Did I hurt you?’ he asked. ‘That time.’
She felt the blood drain from her face. An intensity seemed to be leaping between them. How had she allowed him to get so close?
She stared up at him, challenging him. Not wanting to answer him. Wishing he would turn and walk away. She should never have brought that time up with him.
‘Did I hurt you?’ he asked again. ‘I need to know, Gem.’
Not physically. He’d bowled her over though, and she wasn’t going to admit to a mental anguish at his leaving her. ‘No,’ she said in a croaky voice.
> He dipped his head. The brown of his eyes grew richer, more earnest than she’d ever seen and the force between them fired up again.
‘You know why we’re arguing, Gem?’
‘The shop.’
‘No.’
‘Your reluctance to be the real Josh.’
‘Not that either.’
The only reason she could come up with was that they were warding each other off because—
‘We’re still attracted to each other.’
She gasped. She’d thought it was a one-way deal: him teasing and her being the resilient woman doing her best to control her feelings for the love of her life, who wasn’t staying in town longer than a week.
‘I do quite like you,’ she said softly, conceding. ‘When you’re not being snobby.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with pride in what you’ve done.’
‘What have you been doing?’
‘I’m not thinking about what I’ve been doing. I’m considering what I’m going to do now.’
He stepped closer.
A tremble ran down Gem’s spine. ‘What’s happening?’ she asked, her voice no more than a whisper.
He didn’t answer for a long time. He just stared her in the eye. ‘What do you want to happen?’
A kiss? Oh, God yes.
Josh watched for her next reaction. The guardedness in her eyes had turned to astonishment. Her pupils had dilated. He had no doubt his had too.
The girl-next-door look had gone. She wore a silver bomber jacket and a white T-shirt, soft looking and fitted tight to her slim torso. Large gold hoops hung from her earlobes, and she’d coated her mouth in blood-red lipstick. Amazing. But it was armour.
He had the same awareness looking at her now that he’d got when they’d taken their last look at each other all those years ago. Him standing beneath the bus shelter, his ticket in his hand, his backpack on his shoulder. She’d been standing across the road, outside the toy shop, her hands on the walkway railing. She’d watched him get on the bus, unsmiling. He’d turned in his seat as the bus pulled out of town and taken his last look at her. She hadn’t moved. She watched the bus leave and Josh watched her standing there, the ache of knowing he’d hurt her unbearable. ‘Are you sure?’ he asked. It wasn’t only Gem he was asking, it was himself. Was he sure this was right? No. Was he sure he wanted to do it? Damn right.
He stepped forwards. She stepped back. They were out of sight now, around the corner of the rendered wall. Gem’s back was almost touching the scaffolding.
‘About what?’ she asked, then swallowed and blinked.
‘That you want this.’
She took a quick breath. ‘This feels kind of weird,’ she said, her voice low.
‘It does,’ he agreed. He stepped closer again, until there was only a crosshair of space between them. She smelled as good as she looked: fresh-snow clean and sexy as all hell. He raised his hand, ran his thumb down her cheek, then took her head in the palm of his hand, his fingers caressing the back of her neck. Her tangled platinum hair was as soft as it had always been.
She didn’t move from him, not that she had much room—a mere two centimetres to the scaffolding behind her. She raised her face as his hand cupped her head. All he had to do was lean down. He didn’t move. If she wanted to leave, she could. She could sidestep him and the moment would be over.
She didn’t move. He recognised everything in her eyes and nothing. This girl—this woman—had changed. Not all of her; he remembered the kid, and their friendship, but he knew that the connection they’d had in the past had changed. The maturing, on both their parts, had changed them.
She blinked and the ice blue of her eyes brought him out of his trance.
He inhaled and caught the drift of her perfume, a light fragrance. Nothing heavy-handed for Gem. She didn’t need exotic potions—to Josh, she was the embodiment of exotic. Far more alluring than any foreign clime.
‘Yes?’ he asked, giving her another chance to refuse. Anticipation roared inside him. He held it back in case she walked away. He’d let her—but it would be torture to allow it.
She didn’t answer. He waited a moment more, then lifted his hand and ran his fingers up the back of her neck and through her hair. She closed her eyes and swayed a little, as though a light breeze had brushed over her.
‘Gem?’
He took hold of her face with both his hands. Her cheeks were cold but the heat between them was fierce, and intimacy high. His mind was in such a whirl he wasn’t sure if he was savouring the anticipation of kissing her or simply desperate as he waited for her to say she didn’t want him.
She opened her eyes and stared up at him.
He saw surprise, but compliance topped it; her gaze filled with soft, warm desire.
‘Okay,’ he said, and ran the pad of his thumb over her mouth. Her lips parted and it was like an electric current vibrating through his body, from his scalp to the back of his neck, down his spine and into his groin. ‘Here goes, Gem.’
He leaned down. Her body, so close to his, trembled a little. A shadow passed on the ground to the side of Gem’s head. A split second before he touched her mouth with his, he smelled honey chicken and noodle soup.
‘Afternoon, Josh—Oh, my goodness!’
Shit. He let Gem go and turned.
‘Afternoon, Mrs Tam.’ He inhaled deeply. ‘Not snowing.’
‘Not yet.’ Mrs Tam’s black eyes darted between Josh and Gemma. She blinked a few times and Josh saw her evaluating them with every bat of her eyelashes. ‘Quite warm,’ she said. ‘For the time of year. Or maybe I’m a little flustered.’
Josh cleared his throat.
‘Well,’ Gem said, slapping her thighs. ‘Must get back to the shop. Raphael will be wanting to get back to—wherever he’s going. Thanks, Josh.’
‘What for?’
‘Getting that bug out of my hair.’ She turned for the scaffolding.
‘Ah. Right. The bug.’
‘And for wiping that splash of paint off my mouth.’
‘Any time, Gem. Any time.’ He shoved his hands into his jacket pocket and smiled at Mrs. Tam. ‘Gem had paint in her hair. I was wiping it off.’
‘How thoughtful, Josh.’
Silence ensued while Gem got her bag. She unzipped it, checked inside, then zipped it up and slung it over her shoulder. ‘Okay, bye everyone!’ She raised a hand in farewell. She was already halfway across the street before Josh had time to call out, ‘We’ll finish our business chat later.’
She turned to look at him over her shoulder, frowning a warning.
Josh grinned at her. Kissing Gem. Next time it would happen. A meaningful, full-throttle kiss. He’d hold her close and kiss her long and deep, and there would be a next time. He’d make sure of it.
‘How are your plans going?’ Mrs Tam asked.
He turned. ‘With Gem? Oh!’ He pulled a face then laughed. ‘Sorry, Mrs Tam—you mean my plans. They’re great—well actually, they’re so-so.’
He denied his need to glance across the street after Gem and refocussed his attention on his plans. His trustees had been on the golf course for a long weekend, and hadn’t returned any of his calls Monday or yesterday, and he wanted more paperwork from them in order to figure things out and make better decisions. He hadn’t yet decided on the terms of the sale or the price because—well, hell, because it was Gem, and before he set the price, he wanted to know if she’d be able to meet it. And if not—yeah—he’d lower the price and have a fight on his hands about that with the trustees and Gemma.
‘So-so doesn’t sound good,’ Mrs Tam said.
‘I’ve got a few more bits and pieces to sort out than I’d thought.’ He hadn’t been able to locate the caretaker either, the one who had the key to his mother’s house. The one who was supposed to be available 24/7. Maybe she had kids, and it was school holidays, but that did nothing for Josh. He had a house to sell. He had to make an inventory of the furnishings to be put up for sale and make a list o
f those things he wanted to keep. Out of the other stuff, a lot could go to St Vincent de Paul charity shops and there might be a few things Lily could take for her shop.
‘So are you still leaving on Saturday?’
Josh took a breath of sharp air and sighed it out. He had the farmhouse too. Shit. He kept forgetting about it. He’d wanted to tell Gem about inheriting Grandy’s place. He could rent the farmhouse to her—or let her have it. Grandy wouldn’t mind that, he’d always kept an eye out for Gem. Or if she didn’t want to live in it, she might have some idea what he could do with it.
‘Unfortunately for the town it looks like I’ll be here until next week.’
‘I’m delighted to hear that.’
‘I don’t suppose anyone in town has a key to my mother’s place, do they?’
‘Gemma has one.’
‘Gem? How? Why?’
‘She pops in and cleans now and again.’
‘She what?’ Josh stared down at Mrs Tam. Ted had told him that Gem pulled a few weeds out of the garden and Josh had presumed that it meant Gem occasionally went out there, for old times’ sake. ‘I pay a caretaker to do that. She’s been coming in once a month.’
Mrs Tam looked taken aback. ‘Can’t say I’ve seen anyone visit. We’d have known if there was someone up at your house. Gemma would have known.’
Josh bit down on his back teeth. He’d been getting ripped off. ‘Looks like I’ll definitely be here until the end of next week, or even longer.’
‘How wonderful,’ Mrs Tam said, beaming like a buttercup in a sunny paddock.
‘Mrs Tam, can I ask you something?’
‘Of course.’
‘Gemma,’ he started.
‘Gorgeous young woman, isn’t she? Even with bugs in her hair.’
‘Why is she looking after my mother’s place?’
Mrs Tam patted his arm. ‘That’s something you’ll have to ask Gemma. Maybe you could ask her when you have your next business chat.’
Six
‘Come on, Gem. Do the speed-dating thing.’
‘To keep the numbers up,’ Jess said in support of her sister. ‘We’re one woman short.’