by Joan Kilby
Lexie and Sally linked arms and walked off, talking a mile a minute.
Rafe tried to get a grip on Chloe but she was as slippery as she was heavy. Pushing her feet against his stomach, she launched herself after her departing mother. Rafe grunted and grabbed her just before she fell. Then she tried to squirm out of his grasp, slipping as far down as his knee until he was holding her by the collar of her one-piece romper.
Chloe started to cry. Really cry. Loud wails, red cheeks and spurting eyes. In between howls she paused briefly to gulp air and glare at him.
Rafe glanced around for help. The men were chucking a football around with the kids and the women were looking at him with gooey smiles on their faces.
“Chloe, sweetie, what’s wrong?” Sally came out on the run, arms outstretched, followed by Lexie. “Is she okay?”
“Here, take her,” Rafe said, all but throwing the kid back into her mother’s arms.
“It’s time for your bottle,” Sally crooned to her distraught daughter. She glanced up at Rafe. “What did you do?”
“Nothing!” Rafe held his hands up, palms out. “She’s the one who has issues.”
Chloe collapsed against her mother’s shoulder. Sally carried her over to a lawn chair.
“Don’t ever do that to me again,” Rafe said to Lexie.
“You were cute with her,” Lexie said.
“I don’t like kids.”
“Don’t say that,” Lexie protested. “Children are one of the greatest joys in life.”
“You don’t have any,” he pointed out.
Beneath her lightly tanned complexion she paled.
Immediately he regretted his words. Women, especially at Lexie’s age, could be sensitive about that sort of thing.
“Sorry. I don’t know your story. Maybe there’s a reason…you haven’t found the right guy or maybe you can’t—” He broke off, aware he was putting his foot farther in his mouth.
“I’m not destined to have children,” Lexie said quietly.
That was pretty dramatic. What did she even mean by it? Was she infertile? Seeing the way she was around kids, it was impossible to believe she didn’t want her own.
“Gather around, everyone.” Steve stood on an up-turned plastic milk carton, tapping a spoon against a beer bottle. “Jack’s asked me to say a few words. Lexie, Renita, could you come to the front, please.”
“Excuse me,” Lexie said to Rafe. “Could you hold my glass for me?”
Lexie edged her way through the throng to join her sister. She touched Renita on the arm and they exchanged a smile that needed no words. Their be loved brother was getting married to a woman they already loved like another sister. Yet as Lexie listened to her father, her happiness for the couple was tinged with sadness and, if she was honest, a touch of envy. The conversation just now with Rafe hadn’t helped.
As her father conducted a last-minute consultation with Jack and Sienna, Lexie’s gaze drifted over the assembled guests. Sienna’s father was a tall, distinguished-looking man with gray hair while her mother appeared reserved with her severe glasses and her wavy red hair chopped short.
Next to them stood a spare, balding man supporting a frail woman and a sleeping baby. Blue veins were faintly visible in the pale skin of the baby’s temples. The child’s closed eyelids were transparent and the tiny nose looked carved out of wax.
Lexie nudged Renita. “Who’s that?”
“Sienna’s ex-husband, Anthony, and his new wife, Erica,” Renita replied.
“That’s right. Erica had complications, preeclampsia or something. Had to deliver. The baby was a preemie. Poor sweet thing.” Lexie couldn’t drag her eyes away. The baby looked so fragile in her mother’s arms. “How premature was she again?”
“Two-and-a-half months, I think.” Renita frowned, seeing Lexie’s face. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m fine. It’s just… It must have been so scary for them.” She shivered and mustered a smile. “But they’re good now. I’m sure the baby will have a bright future.”
She glanced over her shoulder, searching out Rafe. She spotted him off to her right, standing next to Brett, talking quietly. He seemed to be having a good time, despite having Chloe foisted on him earlier.
Renita nudged her and nodded toward Sienna and Jack. “What’s going on here? This is starting to look like a wedding ceremony.”
Lexie blinked. “Last I heard, they were getting married in Bali. But you’re right—Sienna even has flowers.”
The bridal party, if that’s what it was, was forming a semicircle facing the guests. Hetty took her place on Steve’s right. The engaged couple stood to his left, with Sienna’s son, Oliver, and her parents next to them. Sienna held a bouquet of red roses against her pale green dress. Jack, in a white shirt that showed off his tan, took her hand and they exchanged a smile. There was a distinct buzz in the atmosphere, a sense of anticipation.
“Don’t they look gorgeous together?” Lexie whispered to Renita. “And how about Dad? I’m so proud of him for having the guts to speak in front of a crowd.”
“Especially after that disastrous speech he made at his and Mum’s wedding anniversary.” Renita tilted her chin at a well-dressed woman of around fifty with highlighted blond hair edging her way through the ring of assembled guests. “Isn’t that the woman we met at Toastmasters when we went to see Dad give his Icebreaker speech?”
“Susan Dwyer, Dad’s friend. It is, too,” Lexie said. “Look at Mother glaring at her. What’s she doing as part of the family group? We’re not even up there.”
“Lady friend?” Renita said sharply.
“Mum seems to think so—” Lexie broke off as Steve cleared his throat in preparation. “I’ll tell you later.”
Steve adjusted his glasses and glanced at the cards in his hand. He cleared his throat again, smiled nervously. “Thank you all for coming this evening to help celebrate Jack and Sienna’s up-coming nuptials.” He spoke too fast, running the words together.
The blond woman made a discreet signal with her hand. Yep, she’s the one from Toastmasters, Lexie thought; she was coaching him.
Steve continued to speak at a slightly more leisurely pace. “I’d like to welcome Sienna’s parents, Barbara and Neil, who’ve taken leave from their work at the Mayo Clinic for this special occasion.” There was a brief round of applause before Steve continued, “I couldn’t ask for a more wonderful daughter-in-law. And having a doctor in the family will be handy.”
He glanced at Sienna’s parents with a smile. “Make that three doctors.” Everyone chuckled. “I’d also like to welcome Sienna’s son, Oliver, to the family.”
The boy blushed to the roots of his thick blond hair.
Lexie saw Hetty smile up at Steve, conveying her support. But Steve was looking to Susan Dwyer for approval. Hetty followed the direction of his gaze and her smile faded. Uh-oh, Lexie thought.
“As you all know, Jack and Sienna planned a small private wedding ceremony in Bali, preceded by this reception,” Steve went on. “A few weeks ago Jack came to me and said they changed their minds. When they travel to Bali in a few days’ time it will be for a honeymoon, as husband and wife. Tonight, in front of their family and friends, they will exchange wedding vows.”
Startled gasps went up from the crowd.
“Did you know about this?” Lexie asked Renita.
“No! I can’t believe they didn’t tell us.”
“Now I’d like to introduce Susan Dwyer,” Steve said as the blonde stepped forward. “As well as an accomplished Toastmaster, Susan is a marriage celebrant.”
Calling Jack and Sienna forward, Susan conducted a brief but moving ceremony. Then Jack and Sienna faced each other, hands clasped between them, and took turns speaking heartfelt vows. The throb of emotion in their voices brought a lump to Lexie’s throat. Jack’s fingers trembled as he slid a gold band on Sienna’s hand. And Sienna’s tremulous smile as she gazed up at him was one of absolute love. She lifted her face to
be kissed and Jack’s arms went around her.
Lucky, lucky couple to have found each other. Lexie brushed away a tear. When she glanced up she saw Rafe watching her. His expression was un-readable. Did he think this was all too romantic and sentimental? He’d better not. Jack and Sienna had both been through difficulties and deserved a second shot at marital happiness.
With the ceremony over, the guests erupted in cheers and clapping. Sienna and Jack broke apart with wide smiles. Steve called for all the unattached women to come forward as Jack stepped back and Sienna prepared to throw her bouquet.
“Go on, Lexie,” Renita said, giving her sister a gentle shove. “And don’t give me that ‘married to your art’ rubbish. It’s about time you hooked up with someone. Mum let it slip about you and Rafe. He’s hot, I’ll give you that. But you always pick guys you would never marry.”
“I do not,” Lexie protested. “Anyway, catching a bunch of flowers won’t lead me to the man of my dreams, if he even exists. I’m not going up there. I’d feel silly. Let the young women and the girls take part.”
“Young women? You’re not old.”
She felt old today. Her younger brother had just gotten married for the second time. Renita and Brett were going to tie the knot in the not too distant future. Her longest relationship had lasted two years and that had been with a man who’d been on the rebound. She’d helped him heal and then he’d met someone else and moved on. As she’d always known he would. Other than him, there’d been guys who were about to move overseas, guys who were commitment-phobes, guys she liked but didn’t love.
Now she’d hooked up with Rafe. Temporarily.
Could Renita possibly be right?
Sienna was calling her, refusing to throw her bouquet until Lexie came to the front. The rest of the unmarried women included Brett’s thirteen-year-old daughter, Tegan, and a handful of women in their twenties. The audience started slow-clapping.
“They won’t stop until you go,” Renita said.
“This is embarrassing,” Lexie muttered. Did everyone see her as an old maid who needed all the help she could get to find a husband? But Renita was right. The only way to make it stop was to get this over with. She shook out her hair and then stepped to the front.
A cheer went up from the well-lubricated crowd. Sienna turned her back to the women and with a big two-handed toss, threw her roses over her head. Lexie stepped back to where she should have been out of range. But Sienna had a strong arm. The bouquet sailed over Tegan’s head, bounced off another woman’s shoulder and landed in Lexie’s arms.
Lexie buried her nose in the fragrant flowers to hide the sudden unexpected welling of tears in her eyes. She didn’t believe in marriage and happily ever after and all the claptrap. At least not for her. So it was ridiculous to cry just because she’d caught the bridal bouquet.
Blinking, she raised her head and laughed, so no one would know she’d been so close to tears.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“WHAT DO YOU THINK?” Lexie made another twirl around Rafe in her petal-pink silk camisole with lacy push-up bra and matching thong.
They’d come back to her place after the barbecue. Rafe still wore his polo shirt and jeans, but Lexie had changed, eager to show off her new garment.
His eyes blazed. “I think you’re beautiful. And hot.”
She stroked her hands down her breasts to her hips. “I don’t usually go in for sexy lingerie but I couldn’t resist. The silk feels so soft against my skin. Here, you feel.”
He placed his hands on her hips and his fingers branded her through the thin fabric, as if the silk itself had dissolved from his heat. “Is your mother coming back here tonight?”
“No. She decided it wasn’t a good idea to leave my dad alone. I don’t think Dad’s interested in that woman but I can see why it bothers Mum.” She went up on tiptoe and began to kiss him, unbuttoning his shirt. He shut his eyes as she slid a leg up the inside of his thigh. “Let’s go outside. In the moonlight.”
His eyes snapped open. “Outside?”
Lexie pushed away from him and picked up a throw rug from the couch. She tossed it to him and grabbed another, swirling it around her like a cape. “Come on.”
The full moon rode high in a starless sky, bathing trees and houses in silvery light and glinting off the koi pond beneath the camellia tree. The night air was cool on her skin, but pleasantly so. A brushy-tail possum scampered across the electrical wire leading from the house to the studio, thudded across the roof and crashed through the trees along the creek.
It was only as Lexie hoisted herself onto the trampoline that she realized Rafe hadn’t followed her. She spread the rug. Where was he?
The back door swung open. Rafe—clad only in his boxers—appeared with a pillow under his arm, a bottle of champagne and two flutes in his hands, the rug slung around his neck.
“Where did this come from?” she asked, taking the bottle and glasses from him so he could climb up.
“I bought it yesterday and stuck it in the back of your fridge.” He placed the pillow so she could lean against it and popped the cork, spilling the foaming liquid into the flutes.
Lexie raised her glass. “To living for pleasure.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Rafe said, and they clinked. He glanced around at the fence blocking the view from the street, the high hedge separating her yard from her neighbors, and the studio and tall gum trees at the back of the lot, bordering the creek. “Do you make love out here often?”
“First time.” She sipped the bubbly wine. “But I’ve always wanted to.”
He leaned down to kiss her, the taste of champagne on his tongue. She shivered and he pulled back, taking her glass and the bottle and wedging them between the springs. Then he lay down beside her and drew her to him in a long searching kiss. Their bodies moved together. Springs creaking, the cool rubber mat of the trampoline bounced lightly beneath their weight as they shifted positions.
She laughed with the strangeness of it and he rolled her suddenly, chuckling as their odd mattress sprang back and her eyes widened. Then he stilled and the trampoline dipped in the center forcing them closer. Rafe’s arms went around her, his legs twined with hers. She could feel him hard and pulsing against the moist warm silk of her lingerie. Her blood began to throb.
He eased out of the kiss, his lips a whisper away from hers. His long lashes were individual spikes of black as his eyes met hers. “I’m twenty-six years old. I just wondered if you knew.”
Twenty-six.
He was even younger than she’d thought. She was nearly forty. He was just a baby.
“How would I?” She gave a breathy laugh and ran a finger over the rasp of dark stubble on his chin. “Do you…know how old I am?”
“I saw your birth date on one of your documents.” A second later, he added, “You look amazing.”
For your age. Lexie rolled onto her back. She should congratulate herself on attracting a hot young guy. Small recompense.
“I’m really robbing the cradle, aren’t I?”
“I like to think I’m a grown man.”
“You’re not worried because I caught the bouquet, are you?” Lexie asked suddenly. “Everyone seems to think I want to get married but it doesn’t mean I do. It doesn’t mean I think you’re the one.”
“No, that would be crazy. We hardly know each other. We’re so…different.” He gazed up at the moon. “By noon tomorrow I’ll have finished tabulating the raw data. In the afternoon I’ll prepare a tax assessment for you. Tomorrow evening I’ll leave Summerside and finish the audit at the office next week.”
Studying his long forehead and straight nose in profile she felt a pang of regret…envy…for how young and handsome he was.
“So, one more night together.” She pressed against him. “How are we going to make the most of it?”
Rafe inserted a finger under the flat silk strap of her chemise and slid it down her bare arm. He kissed the spot on her shoulder where it had been, t
hen trailed more kisses down her breast. “I’ve got some ideas….”
Lexie pushed aside the regret she wasn’t supposed to be feeling and moved into his arms. “I’ll just bet you do.”
RAFE WOKE at dawn and slipped out of Lexie’s rumpled bed, leaving her to sleep. He tiptoed down the hall and dressed in the living room. Murphy rose from his makeshift bed of an old blanket, tail wagging, ready for anything.
“Come on, Murph. Let’s go fishing. This is probably our last chance.”
Rafe walked down the quiet road toward the sea, listening to the birds waking, watching the sky gradually lighten. He stopped in at the bed and breakfast to get his fishing rod and a jacket. The early breeze off the water was chilly.
Rafe kicked at a stone, sending it skittering into the bushes. He turned down Cliff Road and at the cul-de-sac took the trail to the beach. Murphy trotted beside him across the sand, stopping to sniff a dead jellyfish tangled in seaweed. Rafe walked out to the end of the spit of rocks. With a stone he smashed open a mussel and threaded the glistening meat onto his hook for bait. Then he cast his line in a long curving arc, watching it land in the choppy waves offshore.
As he reeled it slowly in, he did some simple alculations. When he was fifty, she would be sixty-two.
Hmm.
The line emerged from the water dripping as he reeled it in, the hook empty. Crouching on the rock, waves soaking the soles of his sneakers, he replaced the bait and cast again.
His mind drifted to his fishing charter. Why didn’t he start it sooner rather than later?
Starting a business, being self-employed, was risky. Lexie would be familiar with that. Sure she’d sold a couple of paintings, which combined had a hefty price tag. But looking over her accounts for several years he could see how low her income was in general, and how erratic. The fishing charter business was seasonal. What if he had no money coming in during winter? Boats were money pits.
At a tug on the line, he jerked the rod. He started reeling in, letting out a little, then reeling in again. A fat snapper breached the surface. He broke into a grin. It was moments like this…