His head ached from trying to figure out what to do about her. There was just too much honesty in him to lie, yet he couldn’t tell her the reason for his decision with regard to the fossil until he let Harry in on his plans, which he couldn’t do until after the opal dealer’s visit. Once he found out exactly how much Gracie was worth then he’d tell his father his intentions for the money. If it wasn’t as much as he expected, no point raising Harry’s hopes for no reason.
Everything came down to bad timing. Better to remain evasive while he waited for Gem to leave. And now that he’d made it clear he would not be selling Gracie to her museum, hopefully she would go.
The sooner the better.
But did he really want her gone? The only woman ever to make him consider for more than a microsecond the idea that stability and commitment might not equate with a slow death from boredom.
In the intervening years there’d been other women, naturally. Quite a few, come to think of it. Attractive women, great sex, good times. But he’d never felt anything more for them than a passing lust. When the relationships had run their course, the partings had been mutually agreed upon, and the women remembered fondly but with no regret.
Not Gem.
And although she came across as such a different person now, those qualities he’d loved back then—her compassion and her humour—were still there. Somewhere. He’d caught a glimpse of them when she’d phoned her son earlier; she’d laughed a lot but her eyes were teary when she’d finished.
There had been other moments today, too; moments when he’d felt so close to her. It hadn’t been easy to rein in his feelings when all he’d wanted to do was take her, married woman or not, into his arms.
And then ...
And then she’d gone and threatened him with legal proceedings. The return to aloofness when she realised she didn’t have a leg to stand on infuriated him all over again. What did she know about struggling to keep a roof over your head or juggling finances to make ends meet? Her belief that he was driven by greed was a dull pain in his chest.
How could she, of all people, think that about him?
He swept a hand through his hair in frustration. Damn her! As if his intentions regarding the fossil didn’t stir his conscience enough without her adding to it, making him think twice about what he had to do. Of course he harboured regrets; Gracie’s destruction ate at his insides, but he’d come to accept it as inevitable. Tragic but inescapable.
If only Gem hadn’t shown up. Until her arrival he’d known exactly what he wanted and how to get it. So why did the silent condemnation in those big solemn eyes of hers hurt so much? Why did her reproach make him so conscience-stricken?
Whatever the reasons, it had been a huge mistake to allow her this much power over him. It wouldn’t happen again. He slapped a fist hard against his thigh, keeping time with the beat of the music blaring from the radio; its rhythm helped him to think. From now on in, no way would he let her get even a glimpse of how much her presence affected him. He’d had enough of her turning him inside out. He smiled with grim self-satisfaction, letting the upbeat rhythm of the latest Keith Urban song soothe as only country music could do.
‘You’re looking pleased with yourself, love.’
Startled, Jamie looked up into Lou’s amiable face. ‘I didn’t see you come in.’
‘Obviously deep in thought.’ She glanced down at herself. ‘I’m pretty hard to miss.’
He laughed as he reached out to turn down the volume. ‘And I admire every cubic inch.’ He stood to give her a hug. ‘Why aren’t you with Harry at the pub?’
‘We thought you might like to join us, things being so dead quiet here.’
The mid-summer evening stretched ahead, uninvitingly empty. ‘I might take you up on that. I’ll lock up and—oh, wait. I forgot about our guest. She doesn’t have a pass-key and she went out earlier. Not sure where.’
‘No need to worry. She’s with Harry.’
Jamie rubbed at his temple to silence the return of an irritable pounding in his brain. ‘I’ll decline your offer then. Thanks anyway.’
‘Why?’ There was surprise and more than a little demand in Lou’s question.
‘Because ... ’ He studied his square fingernails for inspiration. None came. ‘Because I’m not in the mood for her tonight.’ While leaving a lot unsaid, it was true. Spending the evening swapping barbs with a cool, hostile Gem held no interest.
‘Sounds like you two have had another argument.’ Lou pinioned him with her hazel-eyed stare.
‘Continuation of the same one,’ he admitted grudgingly. ‘She’s so consumed by this urge to prove herself she refuses to even try to understand things from my perspective.’
‘And you, of course, have examined the situation from her point of view?’
‘Of course.’
Lou’s expression was far from convinced.
‘I have! I know winning the grant would be a major coup for her.’ Momentarily his eyes slid closed against the guilt. ‘But I’m not prepared to give her that at my expense.’ He separated the last three words, stabbing his forefinger on the desktop at each one.
The older woman’s warm hand touched his in silent support. ‘She sure knows how to push your buttons, doesn’t she?’
‘Used to know,’ he enlightened her. ‘Gem means nothing to me now.’
Nothing. Zip. Zilch.
The older woman nodded then lifted her hand to his cheek and held it. ‘Then there’s absolutely no reason not to join us for a drink, is there?’
Having been without his mother for so many years, Jamie hadn’t realised how much he’d missed such a comforting maternal gesture, the soft touch, the non-judgmental expression. He experienced a rush of affection for this woman his father had been keeping company with for what had to be several months now. No wonder Harry liked Lou; there was something calm and earthy about her. On impulse, he bent to plant a kiss on her forehead.
‘I guess you’re right.’
‘Come on then.’ Like a mother hen, she herded him towards the door.
* * *
A sign among the paraphernalia on the wall behind the bar read, If you’re drinking to forget please pay at time of purchase. Gemma smiled to herself; the off-beat humour of the outback appealed to her.
Her eyes scanned the noisy room crowded with an assortment of rough-and-ready types, most of them leaning against the bar, beer in hand. Tattered t-shirts and footy shorts were apparently regulation dress code. She felt rather overdone, frocked up in white linen, hair twisted up at her neck.
Eyeing the glass of amber lager on the table in front of her, she wrinkled her nose in pique. Somehow it had seemed inappropriate to ask for a white wine when the barman demanded her order. ‘Beer, thanks’ had slipped out as naturally as it had back in her student days.
Harry lifted his glass. ‘Down the hatch.’
She raised hers in response. The first sip of the ice-cold liquid was like an inhalation of alpine air; the second, a decidedly unladylike gulp, was to wash down the dust that had settled in her mouth over the course of the day. She licked at the froth on her lips, amazed to have forgotten how refreshing a beer was.
‘You know, Harry, this place has everything—cold beer, people living underground, history, buried treasure.’ They’d been discussing her impression of Rainbow Cliffs.
Lines of age creased Harry’s sun-weathered face, but his eyes were as blue and alert as his son’s. ‘Yeah, the Cliffs was going great guns a few years back when we bought the motel. Our first worthwhile opal find gave us enough for a deposit. Figured we’d make our fortune catering to the tourist trade and dig for opal in our spare time.’ He let out a deep breath that might have been a sigh.
‘That didn’t eventuate?’ she prompted.
‘Nah, when the huge opal finds petered out so did the tourists.’ Emotion narrowed his eyes, making even deeper furrows beside his mouth. ‘Forced a lot of people into leaving. Community spirit all but disappeared.’<
br />
For a moment his despondency was palpable, then his features curved into an easy-going grin unnervingly reminiscent of Jamie. The two men were so alike, in looks at least. But while one of them had shown her nothing but good-humoured friendliness, the other had a way of turning every conversation into a sparring contest.
‘Which is why my son started up the chamber of commerce,’ Harry continued, the pride in his voice mirrored in his face. ‘Everyone was too busy scratching out a living to give a damn about the survival of the town itself so Jamie pulled his finger out and got the business owners together to come up with a plan for the future.’
‘He did?’ She couldn’t keep the surprise from her voice. Still mentally bruised from this afternoon’s confrontation, she had difficulty reconciling the money-obsessed Jamie she’d come to know with the civic-minded businessman just described by his father.
Businessman? Hmm. A glimmer of understanding cut through her puzzlement. Of course he’d become a businessman. Money was the bottom line.
‘Yep. They’re working with the NSW tourist board on a proposal.’
‘That’s clever. Aiming for the almighty tourist dollar is a pretty shrewd move on Jamie’s part, seeing as making money is what he appears to live for these days.’ She regretted the words as soon as they were out; that had been bitchy. She’d have no hesitation in saying the same thing to Jamie’s face but his dad didn’t deserve her acerbity. Harry she liked, and she shouldn’t be taking her annoyance with his son out on him. She examined her sensibly short fingernails rather than look him in the eye.
On the edge of her vision he waved a dismissive hand. ‘Jamie wasn’t motivated by selfishness. He really cares about this place. About the people.’
Jamie unselfish? She almost guffawed. Was Harry making fun of her? No. Humour twinkled in his eyes but he wasn’t teasing. He actually believed what he said.
Talk about deluded.
‘So why,’ she had to ask, ‘if he’s so selfless, won’t he sell Gracie to the museum?’
Harry sat silent for a moment or two, nursing his beer on his lap. ‘Damned if I know,’ he finally admitted, silver eyebrows furrowed. ‘But knowing my son there’ll be more to his reasoning than what appears to be greed. No doubt about that.’
‘Really?’ she pressed. ‘I’m afraid I’m having trouble believing it.’ She let go a slow sigh of frustration. ‘I thought I knew him. We used to have a lot in common.’
Harry downed the remainder of his schooner and leaned towards her. ‘I reckon you still do,’ he assured her earnestly. ‘Jamie has worked every spare minute, night and day, for the last six months to restore Gracie to the state she’s in now. She means an awful lot to him. Whatever decision he makes with regard to her future, it’ll be very carefully thought out.’
What answer did she have to that? ‘You’re obviously very proud of him.’
‘I am. Takes a man of character to do what he believes is right when others are saying it’s wrong, and character is what makes a man.’ He stood and gathered their empty glasses. ‘My shout.’
Now she was confused again.
Harry’s view of Jamie jarred markedly with hers. Distrust had her convinced he was avaricious, irresponsible, someone she couldn’t possibly have any faith in. Yet his father’s assessment, allowing for paternal bias, was so different to her own she found herself questioning her convictions.
Then reality kicked back in. They were talking about a man willing to sacrifice a treasure that rightfully belonged to the world for his own monetary gain. The same man who’d seduced and then abandoned her.
Well, okay, maybe not actually seduced. She had invited herself back to his place the first time they’d made love. Offered herself on a plate, actually.
But he had abandoned her. Left her pregnant and alone to go chasing some pie-in-the-sky risky venture. The fact that he hadn’t been aware of the pregnancy didn’t matter. He might not have left if he had known, but how would she ever have been sure he’d stayed because he loved her and not through a sense of obligation? Or guilt. They had only been together for six months.
She studied Harry as he made his way to the bar, stopping occasionally to respond affably to comments from some of the other men. He was such a warm, friendly person and she’d taken to him at their first meeting, even though the fact Jamie had chosen to be with him rather than her still hurt.
Then again, the man was Jamie’s father, the one who’d raised him single-handed after his mother died. Should she—did she have the right to—blame Jamie for his choice?
Bet your booties, she did.
The old wound was no longer raw and weeping but it hadn’t fully healed either. Added to that, the same overriding problem still existed: saving Gracie was even more important than getting the grant, and Jamie refused to sell it to her. But if the struggle to reinvent her life post-Roger Devane had taught her anything it was to get up after every fall. No matter how humiliating. As the counsellor had advised her, strength and a sense of purpose were what Drew needed to see from his mother, even if it was more for show than genuine.
For a moment she let her mind slip away, picturing her son: his shaggy blonde fringe and his serious dark eyes, his dimpled hands holding her face and telling her he loved her. Even though it had only been a few days, she missed her little boy with a fierce longing that might just result in tears if she couldn’t hold it together.
She sucked in a deep breath; she had to regroup. So far every plan to secure Gracie had been smashed. Despite the low spirits and feelings of frustration she chose to regard those attempts as setbacks, not failures. Failure was unacceptable. What she needed to do now was analyse the situation, work out where she’d gone wrong and formulate a new plan of attack.
So ... where had she gone wrong?
Firstly, she’d fallen into the trap of imagining this new Jamie had scruples. He didn’t. His only doctrine seemed to be uncompromising avarice. No amount of money from Museum Australasia’s limited budget would be enough to satisfy his greed.
Secondly, threatening him with the injunction had been a really bad idea. She could kick herself. She should’ve checked her facts before throwing that at him.
Promises were out. Threats too. What did that leave?
Coercion? Hardly. Immovable objects could not be coerced.
Theft? Not her style. Although ... She shook her head at herself. What on earth was she thinking?
Maybe a trade-off? With what, her body? Compromising her morals was something she’d only ever done once before—allowing herself to be seduced by Roger, aware he was interested in her, knowing she had no real feelings for him.
Look how well that had turned out. Not.
On the other hand, the counsellor had intimated that, after two years of separation, maybe it was time for her to consider dating again.
A clamour of backslapping and hearty laughter drew her from the troubling self-examination. Jamie emerged from the convergence around the bar, drinks in hand, sauntering towards her. He moved with his usual casual grace, a man easy in his own skin, his long-legged stride unhurried.
It was impossible not to be conscious of how ruggedly male he was.
She must have been the last person in the world he wanted to spend time with after the way they’d parted earlier but to his credit, apart from a slight hardening of his features, he didn’t show it. The stony look took nothing from his appearance; the darkly handsome face, the tall athlete’s body. He was definitely the full package—physically, at least. His ethics left a lot to be desired but she’d be a fool to deny his outward appeal.
After setting the drinks on the table, he sprawled back in the vacant chair beside her, all bulging arm muscles and long, strong legs. He acknowledged her with a curt nod, his gaze crawling over her face, lingering on her lips before he dragged his eyes away. ‘So when are you leaving?’
Lou made a clucking sound as she sat down and Harry stared at his son, aghast. ‘You can’t go offending our guest li
ke that, son, not after I’ve been telling her what a great fella you are.’ He pulled up another chair.
Jamie glanced at his dad, his expression one of wishing his words back; not for her sake, obviously, but because he’d embarrassed Harry. His concern for his father’s feelings unexpectedly touched her; the way he continued to nonplus her was disturbing.
‘It’s okay.’ She reached across to pat the older man’s leathery hand. ‘We had an argument and I said some things I shouldn’t have. Jamie is entitled to be angry with me.’
Face self-consciously warm, she shifted her gaze to her nemesis. It was a gesture of reconciliation she had no choice but to make; for obvious reasons his previous flirtatious manner had terminated abruptly and she needed to regain his good will.
‘Jamie, I’m, um, I’m ... sorry.’
Uttering the ‘s’ word felt like a betrayal of herself. Under the barrage of Roger’s verbal abuse she’d used it throughout the marriage, endlessly begging his forgiveness for not being the person he’d wanted her to be. After leaving him she’d promised herself never to use it again. Breaking that vow now was difficult but at least this time she wasn’t apologising for any of her supposed shortcomings but to achieve something for herself—control over the situation.
The brief, bitter memory of her almost-ex brought a rush of resentment at the soul-crushing abasement he’d subjected her to for five years, reminded her painfully of just what she had at stake here—not only the financial welfare of her small family, Roger having gambled away her inheritance, but also her self-respect. She’d had enough of rolling over and playing dead, still felt angry at what she’d allowed him to do to her, and she refused to fail in this quest.
No matter the cost.
The wild idea she’d briefly considered earlier might be her only option. Could she bring herself to use her body as a bargaining tool? Push aside the thought that, in playing up to Jamie, in reality she’d be using him?
A sudden irrepressible flutter came from under her ribcage and the breath caught in her throat. What she was contemplating was huge. Extreme. But then, her whole adult life seemed to have been one of being forced down paths she’d never meant to follow.
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