Her father’s car came into view at that moment. Once it was parked in the driveway, Mitch got out and called, “Happy birthday, Jazzy!”
“Thanks,” she said, watching as Mitch opened the tailgate and unloaded a couple of bags of cement.
Bernard strode over to them, eyeing Aaron. “So, you’re here again, are you?”
“Morning, Bernard,” Aaron said, returning his gaze steadily.
“Morning.” Bernard turned to her. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”
She stepped into her father’s hug. “Thanks for coming, Dad.”
“As if I wouldn’t.” He leaned back and looked into her eyes. “I wish you’d call on me for help more often.”
“I will. I’m going to, Dad. Seriously.”
He gave a satisfied nod, then put her away from him with a pat on the shoulder. “Let’s see what’s what here. Looks like we need some holes dug,” he said, pointing at the white crosses she’d drawn with spray paint.
Mitch handed him a spade. Bernard passed it on to Aaron. “Come on, then, lad. Start digging.”
Jasmine grinned at the comical expression on Aaron’s face as he took the spade from her father, but then he stripped off his T-shirt and began digging, bare-chested, muscles flexing and glistening. The sight of his smooth, lean back bent over a spade made her mouth dry and she couldn’t think. When he turned around, it was no improvement at all. The flat stomach, the muscular chest, the smattering of dark hair, combined to convince her of one thing.
She was in trouble.
Chapter Thirteen
Heading down Anzac Highway toward the coast, Aaron said, “I should probably warn you…it’s only a small boat. I don’t want you to be disappointed.”
“So, we’re talking about a dinghy, then?”
He looked across at her with a grin. “No, not quite. She’s a twenty-eight-foot sailboat, built for racing.”
“Have you raced it—Her?”
“A few times, years ago, but it was too difficult to fit the races in around our work schedule, so now I just take her out on the bay occasionally. The point is, if you were expecting luxury, you’re in for a shock.”
“I think I’ll live. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly a princess.”
She did a mental eye roll at the name of his boat when she saw it. Seriously Unhitched. It—she—was moored in the Patawalonga Lake. The hull and furled sails were dark blue, and everything else gleaming white. She let him help her aboard, his grasp warm and firm, and she found herself standing in a very small space with very little daylight between his body and hers.
“I told you it wasn’t very big,” he said, but the look in his eyes was unapologetic. She couldn’t say she objected to the close quarters either.
“Why don’t you sit down here while I do what I need to?” He indicated a bench at the rear of the boat, running along one side. “Then we can get underway.”
While he dealt with the mooring ropes, she watched the seagulls circling overhead, studied the boats on either side of them, then gazed across at the apartment buildings. When he plonked himself down on the bench opposite her, she said, “Which building is your apartment in?”
“The one on the beach side. I have an unobstructed view of the ocean.”
“Nice. You can tell me to mind my own business, but how did you afford an apartment like that on a firefighter’s salary?”
He shrugged. “I inherited some money, and it seemed like a good investment. You can have a look at it after we’ve eaten, if you like.”
Her eyes narrowed, but Aaron held up his hands, palms facing her. “No ulterior motive. I just thought you might like to see where I live while you’re down here.” He shrugged. “If you don’t want to, no problem.”
She nodded. “I might as well; I might never get another chance. I just hope I don’t find women’s underwear hanging from the light fittings.”
“Damn. I knew I should have tidied up this morning.”
She raised one eyebrow at him. He laughed then started the engine and used the tiller to maneuver the boat through the weir gates that kept the once-tidal estuary at a constant level, and out into the open sea.
There, he cut the engine and hoisted the sails. Jasmine offered to help, but he shook his head. “This boat’s designed to be handled by one person. That’s why I love it. That, and its speed.”
Back at the tiller, he showed her what the boat could do, and she was duly impressed. Both by the boat, and by him. One minute he was squinting into the sun, concentrating, and the next, he was grinning at her, clearly exhilarated. Suntanned, strong, and sexy. How could she not enjoy watching him?
With the wind whipping the words from their mouths, there was little point in talking, so she relaxed and gave herself over to pure, unfettered fun. And he was right; fun hadn’t been high on her list of priorities for a long time.
Later, when Aaron had tied the boat to its mooring and they’d strolled to a nearby restaurant for lunch, she said, “It’s been a long time. I’d forgotten how wonderful it felt to be out on the ocean. Dad’s boat wasn’t built for speed, though. It was a fishing runabout. We spent most of our time stationary, waiting for the fish to bite.”
“Sailing’s great. I want to set up a sailing experience for the kids from the rehab center. On a larger boat, of course. They’ll learn about the sails and rigging, and they’ll have to work as a team, so it will be good for them as well as fun.”
“Rehab center? The paintball kids are from a rehab center?”
“Yes. Didn’t I mention that before?”
“I don’t recall hearing the word rehab.”
“They’re taking part in a residential rehabilitation program run by a volunteer organization. Not all of them are there for substance abuse. Gambling, eating disorders, emotional issues—they’re all life-controlling problems. Being in residential rehab gives them a chance to mature into healthy members of society. They study, they work, they learn to have fun, and they take part in physical exercise, especially activities that require teamwork. As I said, volunteers run it and they do a great job. I’m just a part-time helper.”
The cogs clicked into place in her brain. He hadn’t been trying to impress a woman when he’d organized the outing for the kids; it was something he did on a regular basis.
He picked up the menu, scanned it, and groaned. “Pretentious.” He gestured at the laminated card. “Have a look at this. “Fruit compote. Isn’t that just stewed fruit? Good grief, look at some of these descriptions. It probably takes longer to read the menu than it does to eat the food. It’s as if they think that the more words they use, the more they can charge.”
“I’m sure it will taste good, though,” she said, “and I’m starving now thanks to all that sea air.” But Jasmine wasn’t going to be distracted by this talk of food. “I thought you seemed to have a natural empathy with the kids. That’s because you used to be just like them, isn’t it?”
He nodded. “Each of the kids meets with a personal mentor on a regular basis…that’s my role. Plus, I help out as much as possible with the physical exercise part of the program. We try to take them out on fun activities that provide a stimulating mental challenge and, like I said, require an element of teamwork. We’ve done group orienteering, a horseback cattle drive. Now paintball, which didn’t turn out so well.”
“You’re a mentor.”
He hesitated. “Sorry to disillusion you, but I don’t spend all of my time off trying to pick up women.”
She was surprised, yes, but it made sense. She understood why Aaron was involved. This was his way of giving something back, repaying the debt he believed he owed to Joe, who’d mentored him and turned his life around. Interesting. Maybe there was more to Aaron than she’d believed.
“You must get satisfaction from seeing the young people you’ve helped setting out on a better life.”
“That’s what it’s all about. It’s well worth the minor inconvenience of giving up a couple of da
ys here and there.”
He said it with such conviction, she couldn’t doubt him.
Jasmine stood at the huge window watching waves roll onto the beach below, and the usual assortment of beachgoers having fun in the sun. Children digging in the sand. Frisbee throwers. Joggers. An elderly couple with a dog at their heels.
She heard Aaron behind her and turned to see him put two mugs of coffee on the low table in front of the sofa. She wondered how many women he’d made coffee for here in this apartment. No, don’t think about it.
“So, this is the type of home you like, is it? Modern…bare…”
“Is it bare?” He glanced around. “I don’t know what type of home I like. I bought this place for the view, and you can’t deny it’s spectacular.”
She swung back to the window and the vast expanse of ocean. “No, can’t argue with that.”
“Finally, something you can’t argue with.” After a moment, he said, “Coffee’s getting cold.”
“Thanks.”
A large, red leather sofa dominated the room, and she took a seat at one end. Aaron relaxed at the other, an arm stretched along the back of it, managing to look completely at home—which he was—and sexy as hell.
After a sip of coffee, she looked pointedly at the light fitting. “All clear. Not a G-string in sight.”
He gave her a wry smile. “Would you believe me if I said that I haven’t slept with half as many women as you think I have?”
“No.”
Shrugging, he said, “Oh, well, I won’t waste my time telling you the truth, then.”
She sat up straighter. “The truth about what?”
“About my reputation. That it’s been…exaggerated.”
She moistened her lips. “Tell me.”
“You asked me the other day if I often made up stories about dates. Well, the guys…Dave in particular…they build things up in their own minds, and there’s no point in telling them they’re wrong because they won’t believe me. It’s easier to play along with it.”
He shook his head. “Maybe it’s because they have boring love lives of their own and want to live vicariously through mine. I don’t know, but they prefer to believe that I’ve had a wild one-night stand when in reality, it was just a pleasant night out.”
She gave him a narrow-eyed look.
“Hey, I’m not denying that I’ve dated a lot of women…all I’m saying is that I haven’t slept with all of them. Well, not as many as you think.”
“Right.”
“I don’t know why I’m telling you this.” Aaron looked away, and then she saw him swallow. “Actually, I think I do know.” He shook his head. “Shall we change the subject?”
Jasmine nodded. She wasn’t exactly sure what had just happened, but she didn’t trust herself to speak until they were on a safer topic. She’d suddenly remembered that Aaron’s bedroom was only the thickness of a stud partition wall away.
As she drank her coffee, she mused that she didn’t know much about him other than his reputation, and now she’d learned that not all of it was true. He wasn’t likely to offer up the information. If she wanted to know, she’d have to ask.
She plunged in. “Where’s your family?”
He looked up. “I don’t have one. I thought I already told you that?”
“Yes, you did, but I mean, why don’t you have one? Were you abandoned as a baby?”
“No.” His face contorted. “That might almost have been preferable, but no, I had the perfect childhood. Two parents, one very happy little boy.”
“An only child?”
“Yes. And I must have been completely self-absorbed because when my father walked out it was a complete shock to me. I had no idea that he wasn’t happy with us.”
“That doesn’t sound so unusual. Parents often hide their unhappiness from their children, don’t they?”
He lifted a shoulder. “If that’s what he was doing, I wish he hadn’t bothered.”
“I don’t think you would have preferred it at the time.”
“No, maybe not. But I might have been prepared for him leaving if it had seemed like a logical consequence of him being unhappy at home, and I might have kept a part of myself back rather than loving him completely. Instead, I felt utterly abandoned when he left, because I was certain that he didn’t love me enough to stay.”
She stared. It had never occurred to her that he might be carrying such old pain around with him. “Did he keep in touch?”
“No, he didn’t. He simply disappeared. I don’t even know if he’s alive or dead.”
“But that doesn’t make sense. If he’d been pretending to be happy for your sake, he must have loved you. Why would he just leave and never get in touch again?”
“My mother said he’d started another family in a different state and didn’t want to be burdened with his old one.”
“I’m sorry.” She hesitated. “But your mother was still there for you, at least.”
“For a little while.”
He stared at the wall over her shoulder. His eyes were blank. She’d stirred up unhappy memories, she realized, and her stomach tied itself in a knot. She was about to tell him to forget about answering when he said, “Her heart had been crushed, though, and before long she started looking for ways to cope. She turned to alcohol first, then whatever she could get her hands on to numb the pain.”
Jasmine drew in a careful, shallow breath. “Is she still alive?”
He shook his head.
“How old were you?”
“About fifteen. Old enough to be independent. But in effect, she’d been gone for a long time by then, so it barely made a difference to my life when she died. She’d forgotten I existed, so I’d already learned to look after myself.” He shrugged. “Not very well, as it happens.”
“Until Joe found you and straightened you out.”
“Yes.”
Pain flashed across his face.
“And then he died too,” she said softly.
“Yes.”
The two people he’d loved, and who were supposed to love him, had both abandoned him without a backward glance. He’d been let down badly, and the experience would have stayed there inside him eating away at his ability to trust people not to leave. Joe’s death would have been reinforcement, if he’d needed it, that anyone he let himself get close to would desert him. Yes, she could see why he’d find it difficult to let himself love again.
She must have been stupid not to realize that he’d been hurt deeply. But then, he’d never displayed any weakness, so how could she have known? She should have been able to see, though, at least that he wasn’t the impenetrable fortress he pretended to be.
Comprehension prickled at the base of her neck. The adult version of that little boy who’d been abandoned was doing exactly what he’d said—keeping a part of himself back. That was why he chose the type of women he did; what they had in common was that they were undemanding and didn’t expect him to unlock that part and share it with them. They were content with mutual entertainment and no real attachment.
The realization that Aaron wasn’t a serial dater because it was his nature, but because the pain he’d experienced had made him that way, brought a lump the size of Tasmania to her throat. He was much more complicated than she’d believed. She understood him better now, but that didn’t make him any less dangerous to her heart.
Having put her coffee mug on the low glass table, she stood, saying, “I should get back.”
Aaron got to his feet too. “All right. I’ll get my keys.” But he made no move toward them. “I hope you’ve had a good time?”
“I have. Best birthday ever. Thank you.”
He hesitated, then took a step closer, and something shifted in the atmosphere. She could almost see the emotional static sparking in the air between them. He wanted to kiss her, she knew…and he had no idea how she’d react if he did. No wonder he was holding back. She hadn’t exactly made it easy for him up until now.
&
nbsp; So this time…
This time she had to do it.
Moving closer, she reached up a hand, curled it around the back of his neck, and lifted herself up on tiptoe. Her mouth brushed his, and a shot of electricity sizzled through her body.
He groaned and pulled her against him as her lips parted. His hands splayed against her back, hot through the cotton fabric of her shirt. Her head pounding with his name, she let her tongue flick over his.
Oh God.
And then they were kissing for real, and her insides were turning to liquid, her arms tightening around his neck, her senses swimming.
He released her mouth. “Are we really going to do this?”
He stood an inch from her, which made thinking impossible. Her heart was still thumping in her ears, and her face hot. “No.”
Aaron’s face fell and he stepped back.
“I mean…how can we?”
He shook his head. “We can’t. You’re right.”
“Unless…”
He raised an eyebrow. “What are you thinking?”
“That we could keep it secret.”
He frowned. “For how long?”
“Well, that’s the thing. It could only be short-term, couldn’t it? Anything else is out of the question. We both know that.”
Chapter Fourteen
Jasmine held the phone away from her ear until Sasha had stopped squealing. Then she said, “Calm down. It��s not that exciting.” Even if her stomach gave a flip every time she thought about it.
“This is a date, isn’t it? You’re really going on a date with Aaron?”
“Sort of,” Jasmine said. “We’re having dinner tomorrow night.”
“Where are you going?”
“Bistro Dom. I’ve Googled it, and apparently it’s the place to be seen in Adelaide right now. The review said it’s the sort of place that makes you stylish just by being there.”
“I’ve heard the food is fantastic. Expensive too. He clearly thinks you’re worth it.”
“Which brings me to the reason for my call. I want to go shopping for a dress today.”
There was a slight pause, then Sasha said, “Okay.”
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