Home Truths

by Louise Forster

  ‘Come on.’ Calum pressed his hand to the small of Jennifer’s back and ushered her into the living room. He placed the bottles of wine on the dining table, went to her uncle’s crystal cabinet and pulled two glasses out. ‘We could use a drink after all the excitement. Red or white?’

  ‘White, thanks.’

  He went to the couch and waited for her to sit, then poured them both a glass of wine.

  ‘Here’s to Bret, the little shit,’ Jennifer said, raising her glass.

  ‘To Bret…because of him, I’m spending the night with Jennifer Dove,’ he said, sensuous dark hazel eyes penetrating hers.

  She didn’t know what to say to that, so left it well alone. She never felt nervous around people. Heck, being a chef in one of London’s best restaurants meant you had to deal with all kinds, especially hot-blooded, high-strung head chefs. Yet Calum made her fidget and her belly melted every time he looked at her. Besides, she could not mistake the messages he was sending. No one could.

  She took a long sip of wine, a very good wine. She swirled her glass, stuck her nose in, and sniffed. ‘Nice.’ He didn’t say much, just smiled as she babbled on about her uncle’s unique funeral. When Jennifer was on to her third glass, she was telling Calum about Sofie, and why she didn’t want to burden her sister and niece with Bret’s latest scheme that must have gone horribly wrong.

  ‘You see, Mother and Father never forgave Sofie for becoming an art teacher and marrying what’s-his-name, Jett the surfer. Jett, the two-timing surfer-bum-father who broke his daughter’s heart.’

  Sure she was tipsy, it never took more than two or three glasses of wine. Nevertheless, she could tell he was holding back. ‘What’re you thinking…hmm?’

  ‘Surfer-Jett.’ Calum said, fighting a smile

  Jennifer forgot her problems and roared laughing.

  ‘It’s not that funny.’ Calum chuckled.

  She came down from her merriment and sighed. ‘It was for a moment. He’s an arse. I asked Sofie what happened to my cute, dimple-faced niece? You wouldn’t know, but the change in Claudia is…dramatic. I was warned, but something went missing during our transcontinental chats. You know, static and delays. Sofie said, how would you feel if our father screwed a barely-twenties-something girl? Then again, maybe our mother…’ She stopped and shrugged.

  Calum made no comment and just continued to sip his wine. Jennifer vaguely wondered if that was still his first glass. The thought popped out of her head as smartly as it had popped in.

  ‘Surfer-Jett,’ she snort-giggled. ‘Claudia’s father had asked her to babysit his, and barely-twenty-something’s, twins. My sweet niece told him to go fuck himself.’ Oh God, she just dropped the F-bomb.

  Her mobile tinkled. Adrenalin surged through Jennifer and she jumped, peered down into her bag and fumbled for her vibrating phone. She pulled it out and looked at the screen, it was Bret’s number again.

  In a flash, Jennifer was sober.

  She took a deep breath, rose from the couch, turning her back on Calum; she determined to answer as calmly as she could. ‘Hello.’

  ‘Pay attention ‘cos this is what we want youse to do. Youse better get the money or youse’ll be…’ The caller covered the mouthpiece. Jennifer pressed the phone to her ear, closed her eyes and stuck a finger in the other ear; frowning, she concentrated hard on the background noise. Something was going on, something the caller was not happy about.

  She could feel Calum’s body heat close to her back — protective.

  The thug came back. ‘Um…we want the money now, or…’

  ‘I can’t get that sort of money from —’

  ‘Don’t tell me what youse can’t do, bitch — ten grand — do it! King’s Cross station tomorra, be there, five-thirty.’

  ‘But —’ The line was dead. Jennifer shook with rage, staring at the phone, hardly able to believe this was happening. It felt like she was watching her brother in a bad movie, only she was in it too. Muttering, she paced the room, keyed in received calls and called them back. Tension filled the room and it wasn’t just her own. In her peripheral vision she noticed Calum keeping a close eye on her every move. She had to put his reaction aside as, phone to her ear, she waited. But there was nothing, no voice mail. Nothing. Fist clenching around her phone she glared at it and growled.

  Calum took her phone, threw it on the couch, and wrapped his arms around her. ‘What did they say?’

  She tilted her head back to see his face. ‘ ”Youse better get the money.” His command of the English language is astounding. And he called me a bitch.’ Jennifer frowned, thinking about what had just occurred. She tried not to, but body coiled tight she began to shake. ‘Oh bloody hell.’

  ‘Christ, Jen.’ Calum said, and holding her tight he asked, ‘What else?’

  ‘Something was happening in the background while I was on the phone; I don’t know what, but it put Scarface off his script and he had to think on the run. A tub of yogurt has a better thought process.’

  ‘A tub of yogurt hey?’ Calum chuckled, which didn’t last long. He became deadly serious and said, ‘I think you should talk to Brock, he’s ex SAS. He’ll know what to do.’

  ‘No — and you mustn’t either.’ She fisted her hands in his shirt and tugged him in close to her face. ‘Promise me you won’t?’

  ‘Okay, I won’t.’ His hands slipped around her waist.

  Jennifer sagged against him. ‘God I’m so tired of this shit. Thanks for staying with me. I’m fine now, you can go home. The thugs think we’re in Sydney.’

  ‘Uh-uh, I’m not leaving.’

  She let her forehead drop to his chest and mumbled into his shirt, ‘You’re a grown man, do whatever you want. I need sleep…lots of sleep.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Did anyone tell you, you smell great?’

  ‘Not for a while.’ She heard the smile in his voice.

  Before she could take a breath, he swooped her up, and cradled her in his arms; exhausted, she let her head rest on his shoulder.

  She sighed, ‘Well you do. I could take your shirt to bed and sleep with…oh God, please ignore me, I’m delirious.’

  *

  Calum carried Jennifer down the hall and into her room. He lay her down on the ruffled pink bed, removed her shoes, and covered her with the quilt. ‘This is becoming a habit,’ he murmured. ‘I like it, and I’m not going to miss out on kissing you this time, Jennifer.’ He bent down and kissed her soft mouth.

  ‘Thank you. You know what this place needs?’ she said sleepily.

  ‘No, what does it need?’ he gently murmured.

  ‘People, lots of friendly people,’ she said and drifted off.

  Calum brushed stray curls from her forehead and left the room. He went to get her mobile and, just in case, placed it on the bedside table within her easy reach. Then he went back down the hall, gathered bedding from Bob’s room, and laid it out on the floor at the foot of Jennifer’s bed. He yanked off his boots, dress pants and shirt and stretched out. Arms folded behind his head, he chewed over what Jennifer Dove was doing to his mind, his body, and his life.

  Christ, he hadn’t felt like this about a woman — ever. His body ached to have her lying naked on top of him, under him, beside him. Whatever she wanted, he was ready to give it.

  He closed his eyes and re-ran all the moments he’d seen her over the last couple of days and he realised, he treasured every one of them.

  Sleep was a long time coming.

  *

  It was still dark when, in a sleepy daze, Jennifer woke, her mind replaying the day’s events and then her brain started on the, what ifs. The chitchatting and scenes churning in her head wouldn’t stop. That wasn’t nearly as bad as a drunken idiot who was singing somewhere. If he just kept at it, it would’ve been fine, but he’d pause and Jennifer’s entire system, already wound tight, waited on a knife edge for him to take off again. And when out of the blue the wailing started, she flinched and cursed him under her breath. His mournful tones sounded fami
liar, but of course that was impossible. She told herself his singing didn’t matter and instead of wanting to kill the bastard she should relax into it. Eventually, exhaustion took over, she felt her body grow heavy and drift off when…

  Her mobile buzzed.

  Heart thumping, she fumbled in the dark and found it on the bedside table.

  ‘What!?’ she yelled, getting up on her knees.

  ‘Jesus — fuck!’ Calum roared, vaulting off the floor a couple of metres behind the end of her bed, his body tense, ready for action.

  Eyes wide, Jennifer squealed and stared at Calum, the only light source coming from the face of her mobile phone. ‘What’re you doing here?!’

  ‘Sis, it’s Bret,’ her brother hissed, breathing hard into the receiver. ‘It’s all right, it’s me, Bret.’

  Hand on her heaving chest, she stared at Calum. ‘Not you, Bret,’ she snapped into her phone. She watched Calum’s shock fade and his body unwind as he gazed back at her, a warm grin easing into his face. ‘Well thank God! They’re letting you use the phone?’ Jennifer muttered, her mind distracted by Calum’s presence moving closer.

  ‘I got away,’ he laughed. ‘I got out while one of them was talking to you. Man, are they stupid or what.’

  After relief, anger quickly set in. Jennifer rubbed her eyes and peered at the fuzzy digits on the bedside clock. ‘It’s two in the morning. And you think this is funny!’

  ‘Jen — they’re a couple of amateurs.’

  Yeah, she thought, and you’re almost jumping out of your skin excited at having got away from under their noses. She supposed he thought that made him smarter.

  Bret continued, ‘They’re little thugs with big ideas.’

  Movement caught her eye: Calum had come around from behind the bed. Feet planted, arms crossed, he stood in front of her wearing nothing but a pair of black, snug, hipster jocks that stretched firmly over his man bits. ‘If…if…’ She forced herself to look away and quickly gathered her thoughts. ‘If they’re such amateurs,’ Jennifer seethed, ‘why didn’t you escape before they rang me and why wait until now to tell me you had escaped! Bloody hell, Bret, I’ve been frantic!’

  ‘Hey, I’ve only just stopped running. I’m at a service station outside Blacktown, half an hour from Sydney.’

  ‘Dare I ask where your mobile is?’

  ‘Jen, I’m real sorry. Just get yourself another number.’

  ‘What a good idea, then you can’t ring me either!’ she yelled.

  Silence.

  ‘Um, Jen, I’m headed for Darwin, don’t get any money out. If they ring, tell them from me to go to hell.’

  ‘You tell them! And what if they decide to come get the money anyway? Huh? Do they know where we are? Bret!’

  ‘My ride’s starting; the semi’s engine’s running. Bye, sis, call you soon.’

  ‘Bret! Don’t you dare hang up. Bret!’ Jennifer hollered. ‘Shit!’ The line went dead. She yanked the phone away from her ear and stared at it, as if by some miracle she could make Bret materialise. In a rage, she thumped the phone down on the mattress again and again, cursing with every downward thrust. ‘Bloody-fucking-little-shit!’ She knew Calum was watching and didn’t care. She lifted her arm ready to throw her mobile at the wall, when a strong hand clasped around her wrist.

  ‘You’d only have to buy a new one,’ Calum whispered softly in her ear and, despite her rage, a little piece of her sighed as a sensuous ripple rushed down her neck and straight into her nipple. Her breath hitched a couple of times as she took in his amazing scent.

  Throw your phone, Jennifer!

  ‘Th-that isn’t such a bad idea. A new phone and number and the thugs wouldn’t be able to ring.’

  He let her go. ‘Okay, go ahead, you’ll feel better.’

  She raised her hand, and pulled her arm back ready to throw it, but hesitated and decided against wrecking her phone. Besides, she couldn’t do it to Bret. Instead, she pummelled her frustration out on the pillows. ‘You bloody little — Aaarghghg!’

  As if on cue, the drunken idiot started singing again. She couldn’t get upset with one of Bob’s friends tying one on today. Whoever it was, he sounded as if he was in an enormous cave. ‘Please, please, don’t let there be a chorus of them,’ she let herself drop, and knees bent, back arched, face planted in the pillow, she muttered. ‘And please don’t have them come here to sing under Bob’s window as a kind of tribute.’

  ‘Sh-sh-sh, a minute,’ Calum urged, resting his hand on her back. Jennifer stilled as heat from his palm seeped through her dress onto her skin. ‘No, wherever they are they’re not moving to your window.’

  Hair everywhere, Jennifer shifted her head on the pillow to look at Calum. ‘Why are you here, in my room?’ she quietly demanded, her voice shaky.

  ‘Thugs?’

  ‘Bret’s always getting himself in trouble with the wrong sort — on the wrong end of the wrong scam — this one is the worst so far. But they’re in Sydney and they think we’re in Sydney.’ Jennifer straightened to kneel on the bed.

  ‘You can’t be sure about that. They haven’t given you a location other than Kings Cross station, which is a big place. The moment your brother scarpered, they’ll be looking for you, thinking Bret will make his way here. Sydney is barely two hours away.’

  Jennifer felt the blood drain from her face. What had her brother done? Not only had he brought thugs into her life, and Sofie’s, and Claudia’s, but possibly this whole sleepy, friendly town. The ramifications tumbling, at speed, through her mind made her tremble with fear, not for herself, but for everyone else.

  ‘Jen,’ Calum murmured low, his deep voice caressing her skin. ‘What I said was meant to alert you, I wasn’t expecting you to react this way. I’m sorry.’ He pulled her off the bed and held her tightly.

  ‘Let me go, please, Calum.’ Jennifer mumbled against his bare chest, but made no move to push him away. Instead, her hands came up and gripped his muscled biceps like a lifeline.

  ‘I’m not letting you go until you stop shaking.’

  ‘Shit…that may take a while.’

  ‘Yeah? I don’t mind — not going anywhere. You’ve had to deal with a lot of shit, and it’s all catching up. Nervous energy on top of all that, and you’re drained. You need to sleep. Take your clothes off, get comfortable, and get into bed.’ He let her go and moved away; suddenly she felt very alone.

  ‘Where’re you going?’

  ‘Nowhere. Go change in the bathroom, I’ll be here on the floor when you get back.’

  ‘That’s insane, why not use Uncle Bob’s room, or the couch?’ She didn’t want him to do that, but asking him to stay in her room seemed wimpy, and she wasn’t a wimp.

  She watched him scan her body. She tried to stop the shakes by tightening her muscles, but that just made it worse. Damn!

  ‘Sorry, not leaving.’

  She gulped, feeling nervous and aroused at the same time. ‘Okay, well, the bed’s a queen, I’m sure we can share without…’ she stopped and motioned towards the bed with a backward wave of her hand. ‘Just get in…please.’ Satisfied she’d made her point, Jennifer turned and headed for the bathroom. Her uncle had handpicked his pallbearers. Calum wouldn’t have been one of them if he hadn’t been an honourable and solid good bloke. She stripped, pulled on the Veronica slip, and went back. Calum lay on his side on top of the bed, elbow in the pillow, head in his hand, and a loose cover that stopped at his waist, his broad, muscled, bare chest: magnificent. Then he reached forward and pulled the quilt aside so she could hop in, a sexy invitation to join him. Her belly dropped and she licked her lips. His eyes dipped to her mouth, then slowly shifting back up he sent her a warm smile. Crikey!

  She could easily take it further, and judging by the look on his face, he’d be happy to oblige. But she couldn’t have sex without getting involved, and getting involved was an emotional investment she wasn’t prepared to make.

  ‘Thank you.’ She lay down, her back to him and closed he
r eyes; so far from sleep, it wasn’t funny.

  ‘Night, Jen.’ Calum’s voice had that low rumble she was beginning to crave.

  She brought her legs up, pushed one down, thumped her pillow, fidgeted, until exasperated she turned on her back and looked at the ceiling. ‘I can’t sleep — damn it — I’m exhausted.’ She heaved out a sigh.

  Calum quietly chuckled, propped himself up and said, ‘I can help with that.’

  ‘Oh sure…how?’ she asked hopefully.

  ‘I’ll give you a massage.’

  ‘You’re going to touch me?’ Had she just said that out loud? He quirked an eyebrow at her. Oh God, she had.

  ‘It won’t hurt, I promise.’ He gave her a cheeky grin. ‘And you’ll feel relaxed enough to fall asleep.’

  Jennifer could not believe she was doing this, but when she eyed him, his grin eased into a smile. And her reaction was to flip onto her stomach.

  God help me.

  She felt the bed move and then his knee slipped between her thighs. She forced herself not to react, like moan with pleasure. He lifted her Veronica slip and she held her breath, but nothing happened.

  ‘Calum?’

  ‘Uh…yeah, I just realised, my hands are pretty rough.’

  Was he panting? Was she expecting too much, that he could do this without getting aroused? Could she? Well, she was here on her stomach, might as well make the most of it.

  ‘There’s moisturiser in the bathroom, that should work fine,’ she mumbled into the pillow.

  The bed shifted with his weight. He left, then came back to take up the same position between her legs.

  She heard him squeeze cream on his hands then, after what felt like forever, he gently placed them on her back. He started kneading the muscles at her waist just above the elastic waistband of her undies. She moaned. Thumbs in the band of muscles either side of her spine, he slid up to under her ribs, then further between her shoulder blades then finally her shoulders and neck. With every push and circling of his thumbs, Jennifer moaned. Then he worked back down again.

  ‘Relax,’ Calum ordered. ‘I’m not going to hurt you or take advantage. Trust me. Let yourself go.’