Stella gave a fake yawn.
Chloe bit her lip and looked away.
Stella sighed. “Look, I’m sorry, I know this is about Nina, but you said yourself that you’ve played it safe only because you don’t want to end up like her. That doesn’t mean it will happen. What if Garth’s your soulmate? The one you’re supposed to be with?”
“I don’t believe in soulmates.”
“But what if you truly are compatible? If you really could be comfortable and dependable together? How will you ever find that out if you don’t spend more time with him?”
Chloe didn’t have an answer to that. She sipped her brandy and sighed as she thought of her mother. “Mum looked really happy when she talked about Sam, didn’t she?”
“I thought so. But then I don’t know her as well as you, obviously.”
She cringed at the memory of what she’d said to Nina, so to take her mind off it, she got Stella to tell her everything about Alex. Stella’s eyes glowed as she spoke about him. Chloe listened to her talk enthusiastically, wishing she had the same lack of doubt and self-flagellation that Stella had. Okay, so Stella had met Alex socially several times, but they hadn’t dated before. She’d had a one-night stand with him the same way Chloe had with Garth, but Stella wasn’t beating herself up about it. She sounded excited at the thought of seeing him again, and didn’t seem to need to question herself about whether that was right or wrong.
Stella finished off the last bit of brandy in her glass. “Anyway, I’m going to put some washing on. Stay here and finish your brandy, and have a think. Maybe you should give Garth a chance, eh?”
She went off into the laundry room.
Chloe turned on the sofa and put her feet up, resting her head on the arm.
She couldn’t deny that the last twenty-four hours had been the most exciting she’d spent in…well, maybe ever. The thought of being a risk-taker like her mother still terrified her. Equally, she had to admit maybe Garth was right. Perhaps she did crave excitement and the thrill of being alive the same as he did—the same as her mother did.
Chloe pondered on that thought, trying not to panic. It didn’t mean she was bipolar. She didn’t have any of the same symptoms as her mother—the deep depressions, the eating problems, the terrible self-esteem, no more than anyone else, anyway. Equally, she didn’t suffer from the mania, the racing thoughts, the hyperactivity that plagued her mother from time to time.
She’d over-compensated as the years had gone by. Settled for a dull boyfriend and a lackluster relationship because it felt safe. Never traveled, never even left the country, preferring to spend her time in and around the North Island, with only one trip across the Cook Strait to the South Island. Only in her career had she been a little more adventurous, training in the hospitality and service industry rather than taking the secretarial position her school had suggested, drawn to food—especially confectionary—time and again, and paying her way through university with waitressing, working in a restaurant, anything that involved dealing with food.
But she’d never really taken a risk. Until she met Garth.
Perhaps she was being unfair. Crazy even. Sure, he had a past, but who didn’t? She couldn’t be a hundred percent sure that getting back at Nick hadn’t played a part in his decision to sleep with her, but she didn’t believe that was the whole reason.
Thinking of Nick made her think about her plans to buy Cocoa Heaven. She hadn’t mentioned them to Garth, firstly because of his obvious antagonism toward the guy, and secondly because after what Ethan did to her, she wanted to keep her career and her love life separate. Garth probably wouldn’t be overjoyed that she wanted to buy Nick’s business and help him out. But should she give up her plans because of that? Maybe it would be a good thing if Nick sold—perhaps he’d end up moving away, and then Garth could get on with his life without worrying he’d bump into the guy.
Ultimately, she didn’t want to relinquish her dream of owning the shop. She had the appointment with the bank the next day. She would go ahead with it, and if and when she bought the business, she’d tell Garth then—if he was still speaking to her.
She did want to see him again. Pretending anything else was plainly ridiculous. She missed him already and he’d only been gone half an hour. If she’d had his phone number, she’d have given him a call, but she hadn’t thought to ask him for it. Her lip trembled, so she bit it, then knocked back the rest of the brandy.
What had he said? “This isn’t over. I’m telling you now.” He’d looked determined enough to convince her she hadn’t completely ruined everything. He’d contact her again, but she’d make sure she took things slow in the future. No more fast sex that made her heart pound. Next time, she’d be more sensible and just go out to dinner with him, and get to know him first.
Hopefully he’d agree to that. She reminded herself that he obviously had feelings for her too, in spite of their brief relationship. Okay, so he’d loved his wife, but he’d confided in Chloe—the only person who knew about his past other than his best friend, Mat. He hadn’t slept with any other woman since he’d been captured. He’d been tender and affectionate and passionate. He’d even taken her home to meet his dog.
She groaned out loud and closed her eyes.
Hopefully she hadn’t ruined everything.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Garth was halfway back to Opua when his mobile rang.
His heart thumped, and for a brief moment he wondered if it would be Chloe. Then he remembered they hadn’t exchanged numbers, and he cursed himself for being foolish. He flipped open the phone. Seeing the name Ian Morrison on the screen, he pulled over onto the grassy bank fronting the beach.
“Hello?”
“Hey.” Ian’s gruff voice sounded more gruff than usual. “Where are you?”
“A few miles outside Opua. Why?”
“Can you come to the office?”
Garth frowned. “On a Sunday? On Waitangi Day? Dude, you gotta get a life.”
“You can talk.”
Garth sighed. “I’ve been away, and Orion’s at home on his own. I just want to go home and crash.”
“There’s something you should know. And I don’t want to tell you over the phone.”
A sliver of ice slid down his spine. “Okay. I’ll come over.”
He hung up and pocketed the phone, then steered the car back toward Paihia. His heart pounded as he drove.
When he arrived at the low, wooden house in a side road leading up from the seafront, he parked and walked up to the door. Ian stood there, a grey-haired stocky guy who wore a perpetual frown. He showed Garth through to the section at the back.
“You want a drink?” Ian asked as Garth took a seat at the white table on the deck.
“Nah, I’m good. What’s all this about?”
Ian pulled the manila file toward him, but didn’t open it for a moment. Garth looked at the label, seeing his own name in black print. In there lay all the information Ian had unearthed since Garth had hired him on his return to New Zealand. Nick Stewart’s life history—from what schools he’d attended to his financial statements to receipts for clothes purchases.
“I found an old school friend of Stewart’s, Rory Davis. I thought he’d moved to the UK, but it turned out he’d come back and was living in Dunedin. He’s been there a couple of years, says it’s a nice place, and—”
“Ian. Spit it out man.”
Ian cleared his throat. “You’re not going to like it.”
Garth said nothing. A sick feeling of dread pooled in his stomach.
Ian leaned forward. “Rory remembers visiting Stewart’s house on the ninth of May, back in 2008. He remembers because it was Stewart’s twenty-first birthday, and Rory was in the area and thought he’d drop by to wish the guy happy birthday. He called in at his house, but didn’t get a reply when he knocked on the door, so he went around the back. Unfortunately, he found Stewart in flagrante delicto with a woman on the sofa. They all laughed it off, and h
e wished Stewart happy birthday and left.”
Garth’s head buzzed. “Are you saying…”
“He identified Jess from a photo.”
“But… I wasn’t captured until August 2008.”
“I know.” Ian looked away.
Garth stared at him. “She was having an affair with him before I went to Afghanistan?”
Pity filled Ian’s face. “It looks that way.”
Garth pushed himself back from the table, rose, and walked down the grass. He stood in the middle of the garden, his head spinning.
Soft footsteps sounded behind him. “Garth? Are you okay? I’m sorry.”
He jammed his hands into the pockets of his shorts and shook his head. “I don’t believe it.” Except he did believe it. That was why it hurt so much.
“You never suspected?”
“No.” Garth closed his eyes. “I knew she’d been unfaithful before, but I never realized she’d been with him so long…” He clenched his jaw as he opened his eyes and looked across at Ian. Strange how the two of them had so little in common and probably wouldn’t have been friends if they’d met elsewhere, but Ian knew more about Garth’s troubles than even Mat did.
Ian frowned. “I’m sorry.”
Garth laughed wryly. “All that time in prison, I dreamed of Jess and how I’d make things better between us when I came out. That’s what kept me going.”
“I know.”
Garth tightened his hands into fists. “She told me she started seeing Stewart because she was lonely. Because she thought she’d never see me again, and she couldn’t cope on her own.”
“Yeah. That sucks.”
Garth shook his head. She must have been laughing behind his back. And as for Stewart… Bile rose in his throat.
“You still going ahead with the plan?” Ian asked.
“Absolutely.”
“Are you all set?”
“Pretty much. Should be good to go by the end of the week.” He gathered his wits. Ian had done his job and passed on the news. There was no point in hanging around. “Okay, I’ll be off.”
The gruff Ian rested a hand on his shoulder. “You going to be all right?”
“Yeah. I’m heading for home now.”
“I’ll be in touch.”
“Thanks, mate.”
He walked back to his car and got in, drove through the town, and parked outside the chemist.
Unclipping his seatbelt, he turned in the seat. On the opposite side of the road, the sign for Cocoa Heaven hanging outside the building swung in the light summer breeze.
The shop was shut, the interior dark. Garth had to stop himself from walking across, smashing in the windows, and setting light to the place. He’d get his revenge, but he’d do it properly, legally. Only a few more days and Stewart would be finished.
He closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the window. He longed for it to be over. Anger and hate and hurt had carved him up for so long, he wasn’t sure he could remember what it felt like to be normal.
The car walls seemed to close in on him, the roof pressing down. He opened the door and got out, locked it, and walked the short distance to the main road. He crossed it, barely seeing the traffic, then jumped down the small bank onto the beach. Kicking off his shoes, he let his toes sink into the sand.
He tilted his head up to look at the sky.
Cloudless. Bright blue. The color of Chloe’s eyes.
Chloe.
The memory of her filled him like cool, fresh water poured into a vessel, cleansing him, washing him free of all the negativity. The way she’d made love to him had lifted him free of his past, even if it had been temporary.
Had he lost her?
He closed his eyes. She’d sent him away—not because she didn’t feel anything for him, but because she did. She thought her feelings had formed too quickly, and therefore they couldn’t possibly be real.
Could she be right? He felt more for her than a passing affection. His emotions were condensed, concentrated, but he’d put that down to the fact that he hadn’t slept with anyone for ages, and he’d been starved for love. Then he thought back to the moment on the plane when she’d nestled in the circle of his arms and looked up at him, and the world had stopped turning. No other girl had made him feel like that. Chloe was special—his feelings for her were special.
Still, she had her own demons to fight, what with the bastard and her mother. Maybe she’d never allow herself to give into her feelings. Should he continue to pursue her if ultimately it would end badly? The last thing he needed at the moment was another heartbreak.
He opened his eyes and started walking slowly up the beach. Perhaps he should wait until the business with Stewart was sorted, give her a few days’ peace. When he was finally free, he could approach her with a clear heart and soul. He could give her everything. Maybe then he’d convince her he’d be worth the risk.
Chapter Twenty-Four
On Monday, Chloe’s meeting with the bank manager went swimmingly. She showed him the figures she’d worked out, and he agreed a small business loan would be the best way to go ahead. The only problem was collateral. She had to put something down as security, but unfortunately she rented her house rather than owning it.
“Let me think about it,” she told him. And since then she’d done nothing but, and she’d still failed to find an answer.
“What about asking Nina?” suggested Stella that evening. “Perhaps she’d offer her house as security.”
“Oh, I couldn’t do that.”
“She’d say yes, wouldn’t she?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
Stella looked cagey. “What about asking Garth? I’m sure he’d lend you the money?”
Chloe smiled wryly. “I don’t think so. There’s no way I’m ever going to mix romance and business again.”
“He’s not Ethan.”
“True, but I’m not going there. I’ll find another way. And anyway, I might never see him again. He hasn’t tried to contact me.” Sadness swept over her. She’d gone to work wondering if maybe he’d found out the name of the factory in Whangarei and would try to contact her, but she’d heard nothing all day.
Stella sighed. “You look tense.”
“I am tense.”
“You know what you need?”
Chloe just looked at her.
Stella tipped her head, exasperated. “I was going to say a bath. Go and have a soak for half an hour. Then we’ll have a drink or three and watch Bridget Jones or something.”
Chloe laughed. Their ultimate feel good movie. “Vodka and Chaka Khan?”
“You betcha.”
“Yeah, all right.”
She went upstairs and turned the bath taps on, trying not to think about the steamy shower room at Garth’s place and the way he’d soaped her body with his large, gentle hands. In her bedroom, she undressed, pinned up her hair and slipped on a bathrobe before going back into the bathroom. She turned off the taps and swooshed some bath foam around to make bubbles, then lowered herself in gingerly. Groaning at the welcome heat, she lay back and stretched out in the hot water.
She missed him. That was the terrible thing. She’d known him for such a short amount of time, and yet already she missed him. She’d loved the way he’d worshipped her body, showering it with praise and showing her exactly how much she turned him on. Nobody else had ever made her feel so attractive, so beautiful. And safe. The word surprised her, but it was true. She felt safe with him, and not just because she’d been strapped to him when she jumped out of the plane. She liked his strength, his confidence. His Shakespearean vulnerability only emphasized how self-assured he appeared the rest of the time.
A knock sounded at the door and startled her out of her reverie. “Yes?”
“Phone call for you,” Stella said. “You wanna take it in there?”
“Who is it?”
“Macbeth. Or possibly Hamlet.”
Chloe bit her lip, not knowing whether to la
ugh or cry. She sat up and dried her hands on the towel, then brought up her knees to cover herself. “It’s not locked,” she said. Stella came in and handed her the phone. She’d also brought a glass of wine and a plate with four chocolates on it, which she left on the side.
“Thank you,” Chloe mouthed. Stella winked before going out again.
“Hello,” she said into the mouthpiece. Her voice sounded breathless, even to herself.
“Hey, you.” His deep voice sent a tingle down her back.
“Hey. How did you get my number?”
“FBI. Apparently you have a record.”
She smiled and leaned back, sliding down into the water as she popped a chocolate in her mouth. “What do you want?”
“To talk to you. I was going to give you a few more days’ space, but I couldn’t wait. I’m sorry for the other day. I shouldn’t have been so intense. I don’t want to lose you.”
Against her will, tears came into her eyes. He’d wanted to call her. He felt the same way about her as she felt about him. “I miss you,” she whispered.
“I miss you too, honey. That’s why I called you.”
She leaned over the bath to pick up the towel so she could wipe her face.
He cleared his throat. “Either you’re on a boat or you’re in the bath.”
“I’m in the bath.”
“Huh.” He fell quiet for a moment, and Chloe sat back, her lips starting to curve in spite of herself. Uh-oh, said the angel.
“Stop it,” she scolded him.
His voice was all innocence. “Stop what?”
“Picturing me in the bath.”
“I can’t help it.”
“Try.”
“Not trying is more fun.” He sighed. “I’m thinking about you all shiny and wet.”
She rolled her eyes and rested her head on the back of the bath. “Is Orion with you?”
“Yep. He’s thinking about you too.”
She laughed. “I’m going now.”
“Don’t. Talk to me for a bit.”
She lifted some bubbles on her hands, trying to ignore the surge of pleasure that flooded through her at the thought that he wanted to talk to her. “What about?” She took a sip of wine from the glass.
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