Falling In Love Again

by Marilyn Forsyth

  * * *

  What was she doing here? Gemma had to think hard. Jamie’s closeness had her dazed, disoriented. Her heart was thudding like a bass drum, which distressed her no end, and too many conflicting thoughts were muddling her head to effectively sort through them all. She concentrated on answering his question.

  ‘The museum I work for—’ She stopped, seized by sudden apprehension. The discovery of the fossil was not yet public knowledge. For the time being any information about what might turn out to be the find of the century for the Earth Sciences department might best be kept secret.

  ‘Actually, I’d prefer not to discuss it. And I’ve got things to do, so ... ’ She stared pointedly at the door, hoping he’d take the hint, silently begging him to leave so she could escape the searing search of his eyes.

  ‘Yep, me too,’ he said at last.

  As he turned to leave, her thoughts abruptly gelled, reminding her of what she needed to do. ‘Before you go, do you know a woman called Louise Parker?’

  He turned back, his eyes glittering with undisguised interest. ‘Sure do.’

  She pulled her phone from her handbag. ‘I’ve been trying to call her throughout the day but I can’t get through.’

  He had the bad grace to laugh at her. ‘That’d be because of the almost total lack of mobile coverage this far west.’

  ‘Oh.’ Places like that still existed? Good grief, talk about back of beyond. She lifted her chin, refusing to be made to feel a fool. ‘How can I get in touch with her then?’

  ‘There’s the landline at reception. You’re welcome to use it anytime. Or you could check at the community health centre just down the road. She works there.’

  ‘How far? Can I walk?’ After the long drive, a stretch of her legs, some fresh air and the opportunity to put some physical distance between herself and Jamie sounded pretty damn good. She could do with putting him out of her mind while she got her head straight.

  ‘Not too far. I guess so.’ Jamie rubbed at his darkened jaw, eyeing her as though he wanted to ask more.

  ‘I’ll go for a wander then,’ she said before he could question her further.

  ‘Got a hat? It’s mighty hot outside this time of year.’

  ‘I can handle the heat,’ she assured him.

  He looked about to say something more, then obviously thought better of it. His hands went palms up in defeat. ‘You’ve been warned.’

  At the front door he handed her a bottle of ice-cold water from the drinks fridge in the foyer. ‘Here. At least take this.’

  He outlined directions to the health centre then, doing his best to nonplus her again, said, ‘We have a great restaurant here in the motel. How about dinner with me tonight? For old times’ sake.’

  Uh oh. An evening reminiscing with this man was something she really didn’t need. ‘It’s been a long day. I’ll just get takeaway tonight.’ Happy with the excuse, she gave a quick apologetic smile. The enjoyment was short-lived.

  Jamie’s lips curved up. ‘Gem, this is an opal town, permanent population in summer of fifty people. The pub bistro only opens on the weekend and there is no takeaway. Let’s make it six-thirty, okay?’

  She digested the information in silence. That sucked. And basically left her with no choice. Her stomach was already rumbling at the thought of food; she hadn’t eaten since the stale ham-and-cheese sandwich, bought at midday at a petrol station and wolfed down while driving.

  ‘Okay,’ she muttered.

  He threw her a wink. ‘It’s a date.’

  Her rebuttal was instant. ‘No it isn’t. But a girl’s got to eat.’

  Outside was stifling. The afternoon sun blazing overhead together with the heat emanating from the bare red earth combined to suck all energy from her, and now the idea of using distance to help sort out her feelings didn’t seem nearly as clever as it had earlier. She pivoted on the spot; the walk could come later. A shower might help relieve this pent-up tension in her body.

  Thankfully the foyer was deserted when she re-entered. For the moment at least she was spared an I-told-you-so comment, not to mention the ordeal of Jamie’s unnerving impact.

  Under the shower, with the cool water drops seeping into her senses, she at last managed to release the tight grip she’d been holding on herself. Heady with relief, she relaxed against the glass for several moments before turning off the spray and stepping from the recess. After drying herself off, she wrapped the towel around her and exited the bathroom.

  A rap on the door made her jump, immediately followed by the scratch of a key in the lock.

  What the hell ... ?

  ‘Who’s there?’ She pressed her body flat against the door, her fingers tightening on the handle.

  ‘Gem?’ Jamie sounded taken aback. ‘You were quick.’

  She ignored the comment. ‘Why are you trying to get into my room?’

  ‘I didn’t know you were back and I wanted to surprise you. I’ve got a bottle of Oyster Bay for your fridge.’

  Oyster Bay wine. Her favourite. With startling clarity a memory flooded back: a warm mess of sheets; Jamie brandishing a bottle of sauvignon blanc; the musky smell of his skin, the soft scratch of his beard as he captured her all-too-willing mouth with his, the tang of gooseberries on his tongue.

  She shook her head to clear the picture. No, dammit! That wasn’t what she needed to remember. Up popped a more sobering image; her much-younger self straddling the edge of his unmade bed, dressed in an old t-shirt of his she’d loved to wear because it smelled of musk and sweat and spice, smelled of him.

  Hair wet from the shower, he’d stood in front of her, deliciously half-naked. ‘I’m dropping out of uni.’

  If he’d declared his intention to sprout wings and fly off into the sunset she couldn’t have been more stunned.

  ‘You can’t! What about your degree!’ It was the first thing that popped into her head.

  ‘I know.’ He wouldn’t meet her eyes. ‘But the exams are only two weeks away, and what with working double shifts at the bar and trying to co-ordinate the student union, I haven’t had time to study. Plus that bloody Devane failed my last assignment.’ He paced the floorboards, restless as a cage-bound lion. ‘I’ve got no hope of passing and I—I ... ’ He grasped for words. ‘Look, Gem, the last six months with you have been fantastic, but ... my dad’s passing through Sydney tomorrow, headed for Perth. He’s come up with this great idea of converting old shipping containers into accommodation for fly-in-fly-out miners. It’s a guaranteed money-spinner and he needs my help to get it started.’

  Jamie’s long-ago words had shattered every hope and every dream that Gemma, in her youthful naivety, had come to expect would be hers. The episode had happened a lifetime ago but it still hurt—hurt like hell—that she’d been idiot enough to believe his promises of love and forever-afters just because she’d wanted that from him. Despite what she’d gleaned about his nomadic upbringing at the whim of his widowed father, she’d convinced herself he was ready to settle down. With her.

  That’s what people did when they loved each other, wasn’t it? Even if they were only nineteen and twenty-one.

  She’d made the mistake back then of trusting Jamie Coltrane with her heart, and if there was one thing Gemma hated it was making mistakes. Falling for a guy with obvious commitment issues had been a pretty big one. But then, marrying Roger within months of Jamie’s departure hadn’t turned out to be too good a decision either.

  Bottom line: for whichever reason, her heart was now off-limits. To all men.

  She leaned her forehead against the door. ‘Please go away.’

  ‘But you used to get such a kick out of surprises.’ Was that hurt in his tone?

  ‘Used to.’ She turned to press her bare back to the door, determined not to feel his eyes burning through it.

  ‘So ... what? You want me to back off? Pretend we never meant anything to one another? Is that it?’

  ‘Look, I don’t want any special treatment from you. I�
��m just another guest in your motel.’

  ‘Can’t we discuss this face to face?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why not?’

  She glanced down at the wet towel covering her nakedness. ‘I don’t owe you an explanation. Stop bothering me. Just go.’

  The silence lasted for a dozen heartbeats. ‘You really have changed, haven’t you?’

  Why the reproach in his voice rankled, she couldn’t explain. Why should she give a damn about what Jamie Coltrane thought of her? He meant nothing to her now. ‘I have, and I don’t appreciate your ... your over-familiarity.’

  ‘Yeah, well, you’ve made that clear. Apologies for presuming to think I knew you.’ She imagined the muscles around his jaw tightening, the way they always did when he was irritated. ‘You want to play ice princess? No skin off my nose, sweetheart. See you at dinner.’

  The wounding words as his footsteps faded away made her jaw clench. She almost opened the door to let fly, wanting to yell after him that things weren’t always what they appeared, that with everything she’d gone through she had every right to be the way she was. But the words evaporated in her mouth. What was the point? He’d only demand further explanation and she refused to go there.

  Instead, she threw her body across the bed and vented her frustrations in a flat-out assault on the pillows. How could she have let him get to her? Punch. What was with that reaction of hers to the ice princess tag? Thump. Why the hell was her heart still hammering twenty to the dozen? Whack!

  She paused for breath. Why? Because this was Jamie. Her Jamie. Her first lover. The boy who’d once set her heart racing, her spine tingling, with something as simple as a wink across a crowded lecture theatre.

  Her body’s unwilling response to him had to be nothing more than an unfortunate lapse, a humiliating triumph of lonely body over weakened will. That the defences she’d spent years constructing could be so easily overrun was as bewildering as it was annoying. Here she was, a twenty-six-year-old newly divorced single mum and he had her acting like some silly teenager, for crying out loud.

  So what was she going to do about it? She flipped onto her back, blew her hair out of her eyes and hugged a pillow to her chest.

  Put a stop to it, for starters. Pragmatism reasserted itself and she sat bolt upright. Satisfied with the return of some level of control she tossed her pillow to the floor. If she analysed the situation like the scientist she was, she had two choices: sit and brood about the weakness of character that had allowed the whole thing to happen, or accept it as a brief lapse and move on.

  She opted for the latter.

  The secret she’d kept from the world for the last seven years was sacrosanct, and the feelings she’d once had for the man who must never learn that secret had died long ago. No more emotional tangles for her.

  Jamie’s presence here was unwelcome, yes, but she’d only be in Rainbow Cliffs a few days, and she’d come here for work. She was a professional and furthering her career was what this was about. Hopefully, now that Jamie was aware of how things stood between them, he’d treat her in the same businesslike manner she intended to treat him.

  Dinner with the man responsible for the train wreck her life had become when he left would be difficult, but it was either that or starve, and hey, maybe he’d choke on his steak. She smiled grimly to herself; if only all her problems were so easily solved.

  Chapter 2

  Gem appeared at the earth-carved archway into the restaurant wearing a strappy summer dress that matched the blue of her eyes, and a guarded expression, her blonde hair once again pulled back into a tight knot at her neck.

  Tonight had the potential to prove awkward, but not if Jamie had his way. During their earlier to-and-fro through the door he’d as good as said he didn’t give a damn about her. Venting had made him feel better, and he’d almost believed the words were true at the time.

  But they weren’t.

  He did give a damn, and the air between them had to be cleared. Gem had always needed time to adjust to new situations. Hopefully, after a nice meal and a couple of drinks she’d be more friendly and they could start afresh.

  ‘C’mon in.’ He gestured toward the candlelit table he’d set up in the corner of the cavern-like room.

  She hesitated, glancing around, a small line of uncertainty between her eyebrows. ‘Why is there no one else here?’

  ‘No other guests. January’s our slowest month.’

  She stared at him in stony silence.

  ‘So I’m the only person staying at the motel?’ she said at last.

  ‘Yep. Gets too hot for all but us die-hards this time of year,’ he said offhandedly.

  Her clipped laugh was one of disbelief. ‘Okay, so what about restaurant staff? Where’s the waiter?’

  With a shrug of his shoulders he indicated himself.

  ‘And the chef?’

  ‘You’re looking at him.’ He watched her turn this over in her mind, a wicked sense of satisfaction ripping through him. ‘I’m also,’ he counted off on one hand, ‘the concierge, motel manager, cleaner and kitchen-hand.’

  ‘You’ve changed,’ she accused, sailing into the room with an entrancing swing of her hips.

  Her subtle fragrance hit his senses as she neared and his body responded with a strong surge of awareness. She might be an ice princess but, man, she looked and smelled so damn hot. Indulging a need for some physical contact, he placed his fingers in the small of her back to steer her towards her chair. She stiffened and he withdrew his hand; he should have known better.

  ‘I’ve changed?’ Pot. Kettle. ‘How, exactly?’

  ‘You’d rather have chewed off your leg than help with housework back when.’

  The unexpected quip made him laugh. He pushed the seat in beneath her. ‘I reckon you’re being a bit unfair.’ He sat opposite her, straddling the chair, arms folded across the top. ‘You wouldn’t let me anywhere near the kitchen in that old house you shared.’

  Her expression turned sceptical. ‘That’s not the way I remember it.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, think back. Valentine’s Day. I wanted to surprise you with a homemade dinner at my flat. Roast chicken. But the door locked behind me when I put out the garbage and by the time you arrived at my place with your key the chook was nothing but charcoal. You called it the Valen—’

  ‘Valentine’s Day massacre.’

  As her whispered words intoned with his, his heart stilled, and for a fleeting moment the memory of their shared past filled him with something he hadn’t felt for a long time. Something he’d missed. A sense of intimacy.

  ‘I remember,’ she said, eyes lowered. Then, raising them to lock with his, she added brusquely, ‘I also recall it being the first and last time you tried to make yourself useful in the kitchen.’

  Hand on his heart, he assumed a stricken expression. ‘You’re casting aspersions on my good character. Believe me, whatever I didn’t do to help back then I’m making up for now.’

  She gave a muttered hmph, clearly dubious of his ability. He was so going to enjoy proving her wrong.

  Over the next hour they dined their way through antipasto followed by his own homemade lasagne and salad, and despite her efforts to play nonchalant it was obvious Gem enjoyed the meal—either that or she was starving.

  He kept the table talk as light as possible, explaining how his father’s container accommodation scheme had quickly gone belly-up when the mining boom went bust. Then he went on to tell a number of funny stories from their ensuing travels around Australia, before he and Harry ended up here in Rainbow Cliffs, buying the Underground as a joint venture.

  But while he’d managed to elicit an occasional low-throated chuckle, Gem’s inner tension remained obvious. She offered nothing about herself, gave no clues as to what had wrought the dramatic personality change.

  Now, with the second bottle of Chianti half-empty, the time had come to try to steer the conversation down more meaningful avenues. ‘Enough about me. What have yo
u been doing with yourself, Gem? You graduated, obviously.’

  ‘With Honours.’ Her colour heightened becomingly in the candlelight.

  He raised his glass. ‘Impressive. So which museum do you work for?’

  ‘Museum Australasia.’

  ‘Wow. Your ultimate goal. I’m really happy for you. Is it everything you wanted?’

  She leaned forward, picked up her wine glass and twisted the stem between her fingers. ‘Everything and more.’

  From the light in her eyes, the way she’d momentarily emerged from her self-imposed ice cave, he didn’t doubt that for a second. ‘So you’re a dedicated career woman now?’

  She hesitated before nodding. ‘That pretty well sums me up.’

  ‘No time for a husband?’ The light tone belied the weight the question held.

  Gem took a long sip then met his eyes. ‘I did get married.’

  His heart faltered and his throat closed over. The impact was unexpected.

  ‘You did, huh? Anyone I know?’ he finally managed.

  Her eyes dropped to her glass. ‘Mm.’

  ‘Who?’ The word leapt from his mouth.

  She drew in a deep breath, waited a moment, let it out. ‘Roger Devane.’

  Blindsided, he stared back at her, the disbelief close to murderous. ‘You married the professor? The mongrel who refused to give me a break my last year at uni?’

  She looked back up, chin raised, eyeing him defiantly. ‘I did. He resented you calling him that, by the way. I know it was just your little joke but he hated the fact he never actually made professor. It was one of the reasons he ended up leaving his job at the university.’

  He shrugged. Like he could give a damn what Roger Devane thought of him. ‘So how the hell did you two get together?’ he demanded, jealousy slicing a knife right through him.

  She stared at him for an eternity before answering. ‘I spent the first few weeks after you left believing with all my heart you’d be back.’ She let out a brittle little laugh. ‘Stupidly, I thought I was the most important thing in your life. When it became obvious that you’d gone for good I spent the next month crying myself sick every night.’