by Maggie Mundy
EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®
www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2017 Maggie Mundy
ISBN: 978-1-77339-130-4
Cover Artist: Jay Aheer
Editor: JC Chute
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
DEDICATION
For my husband Alan, and my daughters Jenny and Rachel who are my greatest fans. For my wonderful sister Nora, and my mom Eileen who is no longer with me. She would blush if she read this book.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I would like to take this opportunity to thank you to all the people who have made this book possible with their help, support, and encouragement. A year ago the concept for The Dark Storm series came to me, and I knew I had to tell the stories of the stars on the show and the people who they fall in love with.
Extra thanks go to my husband Alan, and daughters Jenny and Rachel. They never doubted I could do this even when I did. Thanks also to my critique partner, Delwyn Jenkins who has been one of my greatest supporters, and has always been generous in sharing her time and knowledge. I also want to thank my number one fan, Suzanne Terry for her support and encouragement, and the odd nag to write more books. I would also like to thank Susan Berger for her information about the movie business in America. It was fantastic to have an actor to help me out with the acting industry.
I would like to express thanks to all members of The South Australian Romance Authors and The Romance Writers of Australia for the support and encouragement. These groups make the dream of publication possible for so many.
I acknowledge the support from my fellow Evernight Publishing authors who share their knowledge and expertise. They are truly a wonderful group that I am proud to be a part of.
Special thanks go to my editor JC Chute whose patience and understanding during the editing process was outstanding. Thanks for believing in me and my story. I would also like to thank Jay Aheer for her fantastic cover.
Last but not least I would like to thank all the people at Evernight who bring their excellence and expertise in the area of publishing.
RANDOM MEETING
Maggie Mundy
Copyright © 2017
Chapter One
Gawler, South Australia
Greg ran his hands through his hair as he shuffled from one foot to the other in front of the restaurant. His stomach growled in hunger, but the pizza wasn’t going to come out to him. He was scared, and he didn’t “do” scared. After being in prison for twelve years, you learned to hide your emotions. He didn’t enjoy being around a lot of people, especially ones who might recognize him, which was likely in this small country town.
Greg took a step towards the door. His hand shook as he grabbed the handle and went inside. Too much noise. Too many people. His stomach grumbled––it smelt good in here. The aroma of homemade Italian food wasn’t something you got much of, in jail. He told himself it would be worth the risk.
Greg’s heart thumped as his throat went dry. Glancing around the room, he caught a few people look his way. He was a rabbit caught in the headlights of a car. Were they all talking about him and what he’d done?
“That’s him. Killed someone, he did.” He could just imagine their scornful remarks.
Greg figured he probably had the claim to fame of being the strangest thing to happen in this town. He wasn’t proud of it, but had learned not to be ashamed, either. He was a free man who had served his time and could eat wherever the hell he wanted.
He decided he would go and see his sister tomorrow and never come back, no matter how good the pizza was.
His breathing was getting too fast. He felt claustrophobic, and he needed out. Greg turned to head back out the door, when all of a sudden something stopped him. His nostrils flared at the scent of jasmine. It came from a woman with auburn hair, standing beside him at the counter. The tension in his body relaxed a bit as the scent brought back good memories. Good memories were a rarity, in his past.
Nan had taken him in as a teenager, when his parents couldn’t cope anymore. Her jasmine used to grow like a weed outside the kitchen. She’d say if you looked hard enough, you’d find something good in most people. She didn’t know the truth about what had happened to him. He was just a troubled youth who happened to be her grandson. Nan didn’t ask questions, which was okay by him, because it would have killed her to know the answers. She was just always there, and he would always love her for that.
The phone rang behind the counter, bringing him back to the present. Greg closed his eyes for a second and inhaled the calming aroma of jasmine. Shit, he must be becoming some “new age” guy, liking perfumes. It was so far from who he had been in jail, he almost laughed.
Opening his eyes, he gazed at the woman, who turned and smiled. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. He saw sadness there, and recognized someone else who wore a mask they wanted the world to see. Who was he fooling that he knew anything about life and how normal people would react? She looked too good for him, anyway.
Two weeks ago, when he’d walked out the prison gates, he reckoned he would have jumped the first woman who spoke to him. The truth was, he didn’t know what to say, or do, anymore … and wasn’t sure he ever would. He had never managed anything more than one-night stands before he went inside, and couldn’t see that would change.
But Greg had perfected his skills, and made sure if a woman chose to be with him he would adore her body. He just couldn’t let her get closer.
The girl behind the counter spoke. “We’ve only got one table for two left. It’s the race meet, it has us full up, if you two wouldn’t mind sharing?” The girl sighed as she waited for a reply.
“It’s okay. I’ll get takeaway,” Greg answered, already knowing it was the best option. His eyes were drawn back to the woman with auburn hair. After twelve years of smelling disinfectant, he wanted to reach out and pull her to him so he could bury his face in her hair. He could almost forget all the other people around him as he stared at her. Instead, he shoved his hands in his pockets before he got himself arrested for assault. One thing he knew all too well, and that was how far you could go without ending up back inside.
She reached out to touch his arm, but pulled away. “No, please. It’s okay … I don’t mind sharing. It would be nice to have someone to chat with while I eat.”
Her voice was as pleasant as her smell, but then she brought her hand up and bit her thumbnail as if she regretted what she had done. He should say no, but fooling yourself someone wanted to be with you after such a long time was a tempting thought. She was tempting. He wanted to be polite, or whatever passed for polite these days. Fuck, the word hadn’t been in his vocabulary for twelve years. His fellow inmates were never polite.
Pulling his hands from his pockets, he wiped them on his jeans. “That would be nice. Name’s Greg.”
“Beth.”
Her grip was firm, but her hand shook. Maybe they were both doing something unusual. She looked to be in her thirties and wore a wedding ring but was here on her own. If she were his wife, Greg thought, he wouldn’t have wanted her near someone like him. He certainly wouldn’t want her ordering a bottle of red to drink on her own, either. But she wasn’t his. No one was, and most likely no one ever would be. If they had any sense, that was.
Their table was in the corner, and he moved her chair s
o she could sit down, and moved his chair too, so it was against the wall. He could see most of the customers, and from a brief glimpse, none appeared familiar. He could also see the door and who would come in. The view of the room made him breathe easier and feel more comfortable, but only a little.
Every time the door opened, he found himself checking and tapping his fingers on the tabletop. The sound even annoyed him. He needed to get a grip, or he would never cope on the outside. This was normal stuff, just pizza and company, except he wasn't great company. He took a deep breath and turned his attention back to Beth. Had she been speaking?
She talked about her kids and drank her first glass of red before the meal came. She fidgeted in her seat as her hand went up and touched her necklace and twirled it in her fingers. Maybe she had changed her mind about sharing the table with him? By the time the second glass of wine was gone, her hands no longer shook. Perhaps they might, if she knew of his police record. He’d never hurt anyone who hadn’t hurt him first.
He listened and sat back in his chair and sipped his beer. He was first-rate at listening. It meant he didn’t have to talk about himself.
“Beth, may I ask you something?”
She nodded and bit her thumbnail again. He wanted to take her hand in his and say there was no need, but what did he know. He wouldn’t hurt her, but he couldn’t answer for everyone else.
“Does your husband know you’re out having dinner with a stranger?” She went pale as soon as the words were said. He should have minded his own business.
“He’s dead,” she said, as she fiddled with her ring, twisting it around her finger.
Greg stared at his beer, as if that would help. He felt like an ass. He looked back up as she peered into her wine glass. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend. It’s the ring.” Greg ran his left hand through his hair once again. That would explain the melancholy he recognized in her––there was hurt, sadness, and death in both their pasts.
“You weren’t to know. It’s silly, but I can’t bring myself to take it off. It’s been three years since he died. Strange, how quickly time goes by.” She took a deep breath, as if to say more would take its toll, but continued. “I don’t go out much, what with my shop and the kids. You’re the first man I’ve had dinner alone with since Jeff died.”
Greg gripped his beer and considered leaving, but he didn’t want to go. Maybe they could bring each other peace for one night. It sounded like they both needed it.
“I can’t believe I’m the first to want to take you to dinner.” She blushed, and he liked it, he liked it a hell of a lot. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d made someone blush. She smiled at him, and he forgot all the other people in the room.
Beth took a deep breath. “I always thought if I went on a date, it would mean I was accepting Jeff was gone. You’re not a date, so it’s okay, I guess. Sorry, that was rude. I mean you’re a nice person to share dinner with. It’s just… Oh God, I’m no good at this. You probably think you should have gone with the takeaway.” She poured herself another half a glass of wine. “I can’t drink all this on my own. Please have some, or I’ll be rolling across the street to the motel and waking everyone up with my tuneless singing. Trust me. I’m not exaggerating: even my cat goes outside when I start up.” She giggled nervously.
He might not be her date, but he wouldn’t mind taking her to bed. She made him laugh, made him want to hold her tight and keep her safe. Not that he could keep anyone safe. Beth’s husband had been a lucky man.
Greg decided he’d drink her wine. If she wanted to spend the night with him, he wanted her to remember their time together in the morning. There was a lot of crap in his past, but he’d never had sex with someone who was drunk before, and he wouldn’t start now. Either she wanted this, or she didn’t.
“So, what are you doing in Gawler?”
His gut clenched as her question pulled him back. Where did he go from here? There were lots of options, none of which felt normal.
“My sister lives in Tanunda. I’m visiting her and the kids tomorrow. I’ve been away awhile and plan on traveling, so thought I’d see her.” That was more than he’d intended on saying.
To delay seeing Trudy much longer wasn’t an option. He couldn’t ask for a better sister: she organized everything and had stood by him through it all. A pickup, his driver’s license, money, and a mobile phone … it was all waiting for him at the local trailer park when he got out. He owed her a visit before he hit the road. Twelve years inside should have been long enough to face his demons and find the strength to move on. It should have been long enough for him to have a clue what came next, but it wasn’t. He would just play it by ear like he did before he went inside.
Beth spoke. “I’ve never been to the Barossa. I was supposed to be going up this weekend, but my friend from work couldn’t make it. I’ve never done the cellar door thing. I don’t even know if this is a local wine.”
Greg took a deep breath. “It’s Annie’s Lane, which does some good stuff.” This was wrong. He should get up and leave. It was the best thing to do, but then she smiled at him, and more words began to spill out before he could think. Two weeks out and he was a lost cause, or maybe he was just as horny as hell. “I might not be your date, but I’m glad your friend was busy.”
She blushed again, and he felt himself harden. He wanted to pull her into his arms. He wanted to kiss her right there, with everyone watching. This dazzling woman called Beth had no clue what she was doing to him. He had been without a woman for way too long to be thinking like this.
“Would you like to come back for a coffee?” she asked. “Just coffee. Sorry… I didn’t mean to imply anything. It’s just, it’s been pleasant to have someone to talk to.”
Greg had nowhere to stay, and with the race meet, most places would be full. If sex were not an option, he would be pleading for a bed for the night and just cuddle up to that curvaceous body of hers. Pleading had never been a strong point of his.
“That would be good. I’d love a coffee … and no offense taken.”
****
Beth stared across at Greg and her heart thumped. She would need an ambulance soon if she weren't careful. This wasn’t like her, to invite a stranger back to her room. She was a woman in her thirties, not some kid, so she had no excuse. He was so quiet––then again, she couldn’t stop talking. Jeff used to say she talked too much when she got nervous, but Jeff, or rather his spirit, didn’t want to talk to her anymore. He’d made that obvious today, during the session at Christine’s.
Her family thought her mad seeing a clairvoyant, but the three years of contact with Jeff through Christine had kept her sane. Now there was silence, agonizing silence. She couldn’t be alone right now. She needed someone to stop her doing something she might regret. She had tablets in her bag, but she couldn’t do that to the kids. They had been through enough already. Greg was here. She would talk to him until she stopped shaking.
“Black, two sugars.” She handed Greg the mug and hoped he didn’t detect the coffee rippling from her shaking hand, as if the motel was on a fault line and there’d been a quake of six-point-six on the Richter scale.
Greg sat in a chair opposite as she sat on the end of the bed. She wondered, if he had been short, fat, and ugly, would she have said yes to him sharing a table? Probably, but she was sure she wouldn’t have asked him back for coffee.
He talked about his sister and ran his hand through his hair again. She shivered. He had done the same action while they were eating their pizzas. The simple movement caused a warm flutter deep inside, something she hadn’t experienced for a long time. Somehow, having him here felt so right. She needed to be touched, but it also felt so wrong, as if it was a betrayal of her late husband’s memory. She remembered Jeff and found it hard to swallow her coffee.
Jeff’s hair had been black, and his eyes hazel. He had drawn her in at the age of just sixteen. He had been a mere five-foot-six inches tall, same as she was, and had never like
d her wearing heels.
Greg sat opposite her with his short brown wavy hair and a goatee around the mouth and chin. His eyes were blue but told her nothing. Jeff had been fit and lean from his running; Greg was muscled and tall, at least six inches taller than Jeff. Why was she even comparing them? She twisted her wedding ring around her finger. She would give herself a blister if she kept this up. He finished his coffee and stopped talking. She should ask him to go before the silence became too awkward, but then she dreaded the silence of being alone even more.
****
Greg picked up his jacket and followed Beth to the door. Had he overstepped the mark? He didn’t know. This world wasn’t the one he had lived in for the past twelve years. Inside, you knew what was expected: you got up, you cleaned your cell, and you did what you were told. Regardless, he wanted to know what it would be like to enjoy the softness of her lips against his, and the smooth warmth of her mouth. He wanted to know what it felt like to be pressed up against her body. Feel where his muscles met her curves. He was hard again just thinking about her. He leaned forward and whispered as they stood by the door.
“It’s been fun, not being your date.” His need for her was too strong––his need was too strong for any woman. He should give her a break and get out.
He held his breath as she glanced up. She bit her lower lip, and then her lips parted. Her face, so close now. He bent down, so their lips almost touched. He could smell the jasmine again. He wanted to run his fingers through her hair. He wanted to do so many things to her. Things that would make her scream in pleasure … but she needed to make the first move.
****
Greg’s lips were so close, and Beth wanted them on hers. No, she didn’t, but yes, she did: Okay, seriously confused here. His eyes gazed into hers, and she sensed he was waiting for her. It was just a kiss, but it had been so long. More than that, she needed him to stay and make her feel alive, because if he left her alone, she might do the unthinkable. She moved forward and their lips touched, just a feather-light touch. She trembled, he trembled, and from that moment, she was lost.