‘Thanks,’ he said grimly.
There was a sound, as if she was about to say something else, and Jude tensed. Right now, he would take anything, even a lecture from an octogenarian on the foolishness of his ways. Anything that would help him to heal the yawning gulf that separated him from Emily.
‘I believe you’re finishing a book,’ Granny said. ‘I hope that goes well.’
The book? He couldn’t care less about the book. Not now. Not when his perfect girl had slipped away from him. Not when she’d flown out of his life with the same speed she’d escaped that Michael character. Clearly she’d placed him in the same league as the rat.
Jude was still grappling with shock and struggling to find words when Granny said, ‘Have you heard that Alex is staying overseas for a few more weeks? I believe he’s picked up several international clients. Isn’t that wonderful? It means you’ll be on your own for a few more weeks. I expect you’ll enjoy the privacy.’
Emily had been coaching her grandmother. No doubt about that.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
WANDABILLA was a typical Queensland country town with wide streets edged with old-fashioned shops and offices, and a strip of well tended garden down the middle. Jude parked his vehicle outside the bank where Emily was manager.
In the six weeks since she’d returned here, he’d walked a tightrope. He’d desperately needed to see her, to explain and to make amends, but his instincts had urged him to hold back till he’d had the final all clear and everything was in place. He’d gone with his instincts and now, at last, he had all his ducks in a row.
Just the same, chances were this reunion would be tough. But he was ready.
He tested the knot in the tie he’d teamed with a sports jacket, cream moleskins and a blue chambray shirt. No point in looking too citified.
Now, as he stepped onto the footpath, he tried to ignore the band of tension that tightened around his chest. He pushed open the bank’s old-fashioned swing doors.
‘Good morning. I’d like to see the manager,’ he told the girl at the front desk. ‘I’m sorry about the short notice. I’m just passing through and it’s urgent.’
The girl let her gaze linger, clearly checking him out, before she turned to her computer screen and scrolled down a page. ‘Your name, sir?’
Jude hesitated, and prayed that Emily wouldn’t refuse to see him.
‘Jude Marlowe,’ he said.
The girl looked up with a beaming smile. ‘If you’ll take a seat, Mr Simpson will be with you shortly.’
‘Mr Simpson?’ Jude stared at her, stunned. ‘But I want to see the manager, Emily Silver.’
Without even checking her computer, the girl shook her head. ‘Sorry, sir. Emily Silver doesn’t work here.’
This was crazy. Jude had researched on the Internet, and he was sure he had the right bank. He’d even double-checked with Alex. Emily hadn’t returned his calls, so this was his only option. He had to see her.
‘There has to be a mistake. I know she works here.’ Jude reached for his tie, wishing he could loosen the knot. He was choking in the damn thing.
‘I’m sorry,’ the girl said again. ‘I should have been clearer. Emily Silver doesn’t work here any more.’
Jude felt as if he’d run smack into an invisible glass wall. ‘Has she been transferred?’
‘No, she resigned.’ The girl looked up at him from beneath mascara-thickened lashes. ‘It was a big shock to everyone. Emily left a fortnight ago. Left the bank and left town.’
‘I see.’ Jude spoke calmly despite his rising panic. ‘I’m sure she left a forwarding address.’
Once again, the girl shook her head. ‘I have no authority to hand out personal information.’
Of course. He knew that. He’d been desperate, clutching at straws.
‘Thank you,’ he said, even though he was anything but grateful.
Turning on his heel, he strode out of the building into sunshine and a blank wall of fear.
* * *
Saturday mornings in the city were very different from Saturdays in Wandabilla. Emily sat at a café table on a footpath crowded with small tables, drinking coffee and reading the weekend papers. All around her, people were doing the same thing—drinking coffee, eating breakfast, reading alone or chatting in groups.
No one paid Emily the slightest attention, and she couldn’t recognise a single face. How wonderful was that? After years of living in a tiny country town where she knew everyone and everyone knew her, plus every single detail of her private life, this urban anonymity was bliss.
She’d been living in Brisbane for a month now, renting a flat in Red Hill. In that time she’d thrown herself into starting up her fledgling business—a sun-safe fashion line for mothers and children. Sports shirts with long sleeves, casual tops, hats made from cottons that breathe, but sturdy enough to run about and play in.
She’d been struck by the idea while staying at Sunshine Beach. As a redhead, she’d always had to cover up in the outdoors, and in her childhood especially she’d found it such a bore. These days, it wasn’t just an issue for people with really fair skin. Everyone was more conscious of sun protection and, with so many ‘yummy mummies’ enjoying an active outdoor life, Emily was sure her idea was a winner.
There was a lot to do. She’d teamed with a talented young designer who was actually the granddaughter of one of Granny Silver’s friends, and the garments were being made by a cooperative of farmer’s wives from Wandabilla. They’d been looking for a project that allowed them to work from home, and they’d leapt at Emily’s idea. She was offering them very fair rates, of course.
Now she was also busy with marketing—sourcing a logo, organising a registered trade name, setting up a website.
Fortunately, she had enough savings and investments to see her through this early establishment phase, and she was quietly confident that this business was going to fly.
It was all very satisfying.
A waitress arrived with her breakfast—mushrooms on ciabatta bread. Yum. She folded her newspaper, keeping only the real-estate pages open to peruse while she ate. She’d been toying with the idea of buying a house of her own.
With the flexibility of an Internet business, she could more or less live wherever she liked. The world was now her oyster, but she rather liked Brisbane and being close to both Alex and Granny.
Emily cut a piece of toast and topped it with dark, succulent, peppery mushrooms, munching happily as she scanned the rows of photos.
She wasn’t quite sure what kind of place she would prefer—a slick modern apartment or a cute cottage with a leafy garden. It would be rather nice if something leapt out at her, a kind of real-estate love at first sight, but she was in no hurry to buy. She turned a page, helping herself to more mushrooms.
Then she saw it.
Halfway down the page.
A photo she instantly recognised that made her go cold all over and caused a piece of toast to stick in her throat.
A distinctively beautiful home made of timber and glass with a wonderful view of rainforest-clad hillsides. Emily checked the address—Mount Tamborine—and her heart crashed against her ribcage.
It had to be Jude’s house. Of course it was his. It was highly unlikely that another home on Tamborine Mountain would be built to exactly that same design. Besides, she could see the brick-paved driveway where she’d parked the hire car and the flat rock stepping stones that led to Jude’s front door.
There could be no doubt. Jude’s gorgeous home was for sale. Emily clapped a hand over her mouth to stop herself from crying out loud.
How could Jude sell the place he loved so much? Why would he?
He’d told her once that he would be prepared to give up his mountain home and lifestyl
e if he found the right woman. Surely he hadn’t found his perfect someone in the few weeks since his operation?
What else could this mean? Had he returned to one of his previous girlfriends?
It was unlikely, Emily decided, given all the messages on her phone that she’d ignored.
What else might have prompted this sale? Financial difficulties were a possibility, but somehow Emily didn’t think that was Jude’s problem.
Had his eyes deteriorated? Could he no longer risk living in such an isolated home?
Much as she hated this thought, it was surely the most likely explanation. Even though Granny Silver had reported that Jude had rung and said his vision was fine, something must have gone wrong since then. Some kind of relapse.
And if the worst had happened, he probably couldn’t stand to live there surrounded by a view he couldn’t see.
The thought was almost too sad to bear.
Emily had tried so hard to focus on enjoying her post-Jude life and put him out of her thoughts. But her avoidance of him had been based on the assumption that he was fine.
Now, any possibility of remaining aloof from Jude had been wiped out by one photo.
Abandoning her breakfast, she snatched up the page with the picture of his house, folded it swiftly and stuffed it into her shoulder bag.
‘How was your meal?’ the girl at the cash register enquired.
‘It was delicious,’ Emily assured her. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t stay to finish it. There’s been an emergency.’
The girl sent Emily a look of sympathy as she rushed away. She was halfway down the footpath before she came to a skidding halt, realising she had no idea where she was running to. She’d taken off in a blind panic.
Now, as she came to her senses, she pulled her phone from her bag and keyed in Alex’s number.
‘Jude’s selling his house,’ she told her cousin the instant he answered. ‘Do you know why? Is something wrong? Is there a problem with his eyes?’
‘Hey, calm down,’ Alex soothed. ‘One question at a time. What’s this about Jude’s house?’
‘It’s for sale. I’ve just seen the ad in this morning’s paper.’
‘Really? Are you sure it’s Jude’s house?’
‘Positive. I can’t believe it, Alex.’
‘I haven’t heard anything about it but, to be honest, I think Jude’s avoiding me. He hasn’t answered my phone calls or my emails. I’m assuming that’s because he’s way overdue with delivering his latest manuscript.’
‘Is he?’ This news only deepened Emily’s fears. Jude had been close to finishing the book weeks ago. ‘I thought his eyesight was OK.’
‘So did I. There was no mention of a problem last time we spoke, but that was quite a few weeks back. Now you’ve got me worried. I’ll try calling him again.’
‘Thanks. So will I.’
But Emily didn’t ring Jude straight away. After she ended the call to Alex, she slid the phone into her pocket and started walking back up the steep hill to her flat. She hoped the long climb would help her to stop panicking. She needed a chance to think about this situation with a clear head.
The ad in the paper said that Jude’s house was to be auctioned on Wednesday and the property was open for inspection over this weekend. This meant that potential buyers could be traipsing through that beautiful house right at this moment. They would be falling in love with its hilltop location, with its stunning views and its distinctive and elegant architecture.
Anyone who stepped through the doorway to Jude’s house was bound to fall in love and want to buy it.
But Jude loved the house, too, just as he loved his mountains and hiking the skyline and watching the weather roll in over Sunset Ridge.
How could he bear to let all that go?
Emily wanted to ring him. Desperately.
But what did a girl say to a man after two months of silence, after she’d taken off with very little explanation and refused to return his calls?
I’m sorry. I was saving my sanity.
I was trying to be tough.
It was all about survival.
She’d retreated, afraid that she’d read too much into that wondrous short time she’d lived with Jude, and knowing she was a relationship dunce.
But how did her hang-ups about her relationships stack up against Jude’s serious problems—losing his eyesight and losing his beautiful home?
A major thing holding her back was the fact that she’d already been way too pushy with Jude in the past. Heavens, the only reason she’d met him in the first place was because she’d turned up on the poor man’s doorstep, completely out of the blue.
That had just been the start. She’d gone to the mountains, she’d done that fateful striptease and, after his surgery, she’d come back to the apartment too soon. Now she cringed at the thought of yet again pushing her way uninvited into Jude’s life. Hadn’t she given up that right when she ran away?
Her phone sat on her kitchen table all weekend while she circled it, thinking about Jude, worrying about Jude and missing him so badly she felt sick.
Alex didn’t ring back, so he probably hadn’t got through to Jude, either, but on Monday Emily was very tempted to rush over to Alex’s place and tell him the whole sorry story of her brief relationship with his client.
Like old times, they could open a bottle of wine and she’d pour out her troubles, and Alex would be sympathetic, and she’d feel better…
Except…
Except…she wouldn’t feel better, would she?
Not this time. Not about Jude.
Besides, she didn’t want to tell Alex about watching herons and sunsets with Jude. There were some memories that felt too precious to share. She certainly wouldn’t tell her cousin about her attempted striptease…or the night that had followed.
Instead, Emily threw herself into a cleaning frenzy, vacuuming, mopping and polishing until her tiny flat shone. She spent the afternoon fiddling with her new website.
On Tuesday, a parcel arrived from Wandabilla—the first sample collection of sun-safe shirts and caps. They were just beautiful and Emily was thrilled, but she would have been more thrilled if she hadn’t been so distracted.
In less than twenty-four hours Jude’s house would go under the auctioneer’s hammer. She still didn’t know why, but she was sure the reason had to be desperate and she couldn’t bear to think of Jude going through such an ordeal alone.
Shouldn’t she be there, too?
The realisation dawned on her like a slow, warming sunrise.
Even if Jude had problems with his eyes, he would almost certainly be at the auction—and she could be there, in the background. She wouldn’t be pushy. She wouldn’t make her presence obvious. She would blend in with the crowd, keep an eye on Jude from a distance, be circumspect. If she sensed that he needed her help in any way, she would be ready. On call. To step in as a friend. She would make sure Jude understood that she wasn’t barging back into his life.
Emily went to bed happy. She had a plan.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE large number of cars parked along the edges of the winding mountain road didn’t surprise Emily. She’d guessed that Jude’s house would be popular. Just the same, she felt sick knowing that in an hour or two, someone else would own his beloved retreat.
It was cool in the mountains so she pulled a denim jacket over her T-shirt, making a quick check of her reflection in the rear-vision mirror. She’d dressed casually and kept her make-up subtle, aiming to blend into the crowd—but she was sadly aware that none of this was necessary if Jude couldn’t see her.
She gave a little shake, needing to banish such thoughts. No tears now. Locking the car door, she set off, chin high, determined to be b
rave. And circumspect.
An assortment of people had gathered in the driveway—businessmen in suits, several couples of retirement age, a few people who looked like hiking types, lean and slightly weather-beaten.
Many of these people were probably hoping to buy their dream home today, and the auctioneer was on the move, smiling and chatting, no doubt trying to suss out the genuine bidders.
Emily’s stomach fluttered nervously. She didn’t care at all when heads turned to stare at her curiously. She just wished she knew where Jude was and how he was feeling right now.
The auction, they were told, was to be held on the back deck, and everyone filed up the external timber stairway. Emily held her breath as she followed the crowd. On the deck, she melted to the back of the group, shocked by how dreadfully anxious she felt—anxious for Jude.
Over the past weeks, she’d been trying to keep her thoughts Jude-free but, from the moment she’d seen the house in the paper, she’d been learning all over again how very deeply she cared for him, and now she was flooded by a host of feelings that she’d tried for two months to suppress.
She loved him.
There was no escaping it.
It didn’t matter where Jude lived or whether or not he could see, she was still in love with him. Weeks of separation hadn’t changed that. Nothing would change it. She would probably go to her grave knowing that he was The One.
But if Jude’s circumstances were even worse than they’d been two months ago, he would almost certainly push her away again.
Still, she had to hope there was some way she could help.
The auctioneer opened the large timber-framed glass door that led into the house and spoke to someone inside. Emily’s heart picked up pace. He was probably asking Jude to come out.
Despite the chatter of the people all around her, she was sure she could hear a firm tread on the floorboards inside the house. Then she saw a familiar figure in the doorway—tall, dark-haired, broad-shouldered—Jude, sexier than ever in a dark blue shirt and jeans.
Her heart thudded painfully. Seeing him again brought such a crush of memories…his smile, his conversation, his kisses, his touch… She’d missed him during every second of her self-imposed isolation.
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