Falling for Mr. Unexpected

by Inge Saunders

  “Who are you supporting?” Richard asked with a friendly smile.

  “South Africa.”

  “I could get an extra ticket, if you want to come with us,” Richard offered.

  Damian looked to Emma and then at Richard.

  “I haven’t committed myself yet,” she said.

  Damian wondered why Richard couldn’t see he wasn’t going to get anywhere with Emma. She seemed annoyed.

  “It will be fun. Plus, I could always explain the rules if you don’t understand,” Richard said in a friendly tone.

  Oh, Richard, do tread lightly. Damian saw Emma’s cheek cave in, a sure sign she was biting the inside of her mouth.

  “You do know the difference between rugby and soccer, right?” Damian goaded her.

  She turned the glare she had trained on the table at him. “Why don’t you explain it to me?”

  Okay I didn’t expect that. “I’m sure Richard’s dying to. Aren’t you, Richard?”

  Richard’s confusion marred his face. He probably didn’t understand the undercurrent of the conversation. “I wouldn’t mind,” he said.

  “Oh, but I asked you, Damian. Why don’t you explain it to me? You seem to know everything.”

  Damian felt sorry for the guy. It was obvious Emma wasn’t going to bite. She could at least let him off easy. Typical women, loves the chase but doesn’t like to be caught.

  “But I don’t want to deprive Richard of the joy of enlightening you,” he said and almost laughed when her eyes narrowed.

  Mark and Stephanie came back with the dessert. Trifle. Apparently it was his brother’s favorite dessert.

  “Wow, this is great, honey!” Mark enthused as he took his first bite.

  Damian put his stuffed spoon in his mouth before a snort escaped. But Emma caught him and raised an eyebrow.

  “Richard has invited us to go see South Africa play this weekend. Why don’t we make it a group thing,” he said, knowing Emma hadn’t been eager.

  Stephanie, however, was more than keen. “Oh, it’s a great idea! I can’t remember when last I’ve seen a game.”

  “You watch rugby?” Damian asked.

  In her yellow summer dress, Stephanie seemed anything but a rugby fan.

  Mark laughed. “She doesn’t miss a game.”

  “When we were younger, we used to go to rugby games with my dad. He was a huge Springbok supporter and, whenever the Stormers played on home ground, we went there.” Stephanie’s smile appeared frail as bleakness set into her eyes.

  Mark took her hand in his and planted a kiss in on the palm.

  Emma stared down at her trifle, fiddling with her dessert spoon as though she didn’t see it.

  “You said you didn’t know rugby,” he said, wanting to bring her back from wherever she had gone off to.

  She turned to him, her eyes still not completely focused.

  “I said I’m not a sports fan.” She cleared her throat. “I didn’t say I didn’t know rugby; you came to the assumption I didn’t.”

  Damian was curious about Emma’s glazed expression, but he knew enough of people to know right then wouldn’t be the time to satisfy his curiosity.

  “Richard assumed first,” he said, pulling Richard into the conversation.

  He hadn’t missed the look of understanding passing over Richard’s face as Stephanie talked.

  “Sorry.” Damian presumed Richard apologized for more than her going to the rugby game with him.

  “Well, it will be fun us all going together,” Stephanie breezed.

  “Won’t you get seen? You said you didn’t want the media to know you are here,” Emma asked, annoyance filtering through her voice.

  He gave her a lopsided grin. “This morning, when I went out for muffins, a couple of people spotted me. I would rather let the media know I’m here on my terms.”

  “By going to a rugby game?” She snorted.

  “It’s a holiday pastime.”

  “I still haven’t agreed to go. And my foot. It would be…awkward,” she said.

  “But manageable. You’ve been outvoted.” He winked at Stephanie. “It’s been awhile since I’ve seen a game.”

  Later in the evening, when Richard left and the two sisters were in the kitchen storing leftovers, he stood on the patio staring out at the sea and the low moon over it.

  “I only get to come here once a year.” Mark spoke from behind him. He moved quietly and stood at his side.

  “The place looks good.”

  “I can’t take the credit. I hired a crew to come in every week.”

  “Still, thanks. I know how busy you are,” Damian said.

  Quiet reigned for a moment as he mused over the things they needed to talk about. Damian knew the parent issue couldn’t be avoided.

  “Have you called Mother yet?” Mark asked.

  Damian sighed. “I haven’t had a chance. As hard as it is to believe.”

  Mark smiled. “Emma and Stephanie keeping you busy?”

  Damian chuckled. “Are they always like this? For such small women, they do take up a lot of space.”

  Mark laughed. “Yeah. They have a way of doing that, especially when they are together.”

  Damian didn’t know what to say, at a loss for words.

  “Damian, I can’t fault you. You chose your path and I’m more than okay with your decision. I think Mother and Father have made their peace with it also.”

  “Mother never had a problem.”

  “I know,” Mark agreed.

  “I shouldn’t care what he thinks. But I still do.” Frustration laced his voice.

  “You need to talk to him. He misses you.”

  “I don’t know how long I’ll be here. My agent called and said the movie’s on again.”

  “Lizle Vlam seems like a piece of work.” Mark gazed up at the stars.

  Damian sighed. “She is. But she’s great at what she does. You don’t plan on being caught up in something like a scandal. It left me with a bitter taste.”

  “Not for acting, though,” Mark replied.

  Damian turned to him. “No. Only women. Especially crazy ones.”

  “Well, whatever you decide, do give Mother a call.”

  Damian nodded.

  “You kissed Emma, didn’t you?” Mark’s words knocked the wind from his lungs.

  “How did you know?”

  “The tension between the two of you is obvious. And you had a’he’s an idiot’ expression on your face every time Richard spoke to her.”

  Damian groaned, but didn’t reply. His brother knew him too well for his own good.

  “You know nothing can come of it,” Mark said after a moment.

  His heart stilled for a single beat. “Why?”

  “Do you want something to come of it?” Mark countered.

  Damian took a deep breath. “I don’t know.” He surprised even himself with his answer.

  “I have to drive back. Luckily, I don’t have an early surgery,” he said, changing the subject.

  Later, as Damian lay in bed, he realized he wouldn’t be able to forget Emma as quickly as he’d believed he would. Whatever category she fit in didn’t seem to change the fact that he was developing strong feelings toward her.

  ***

  The next day Stephanie helped Emma to the beach; finally, she had a chance to enjoy her holiday.

  She spent the afternoon under a bright red beach umbrella, courtesy of Stephanie. And though she had enough books to satisfy any booklover, she couldn’t finish a page because her traitorous brain kept leading her to Damian and their hot encounter.

  The day went by with her watching Stephanie play in the waves and then talking about what they could make for dinner. Emma avoided any topic leading back to Damian. She even avoided any hint to their last conversation, viewing it as pointless to agonize over something that never was.

  However, Emma noticed, he also avoided her. Instead of spending the day on the beach, he’d said he needed to go see some of his SA
contacts. Since Stephanie had turned Richard’s rugby invitation into an excursion, Damian offered to get them VIP seats away from the crowd.

  It made sense. There was no telling what could happen with him in the middle of a crowd. Even if it consisted of mostly men.

  She couldn’t tell anyone why going to watch something as simple as a rugby game would have her on edge. The idea of it had her stomach in knots. The last time she remembered being truly happy and carefree was when her father was alive; since his death, a dark cloud had hovered over her. Emma couldn’t back out. She would be the proverbial wet blanket. She couldn’t tell Stephanie. Her sister would have understood, but she didn’t feel like being emotionally dissected.

  Plus, what’s a rugby game, anyway? I will go, I will endure it, and I will be fine.

  As she went to bed later in the evening, she hoped her pep talk would help and reminded herself to keep on giving herself one until the dreaded rugby game. The fact that she was talking to herself in the third person wasn’t lost on her. She’d reached a new level of crazy.

  Chapter Eight

  The problem with never having given much thought to Mr. Right or even Mr. Right Now and the ever-elusive “The One,” was how it turned intelligent women into indecisive fools, never working out what kind of man they truly wanted.

  The dilemma of trying to figure out Mr. Right wasn’t lost on Emma as she sat in the VIP section, wedged between Richard and Damian.

  Stephanie had the brilliant idea to seat her next to Richard. Damian, forever the provocateur, plastered himself next to her before Stephanie said anything.

  But she had to hand it to him. The VIP lounge was fantastic. They had a comfortable front-seat view behind huge glass windows, seeing the breadth and scope of the rugby field. A corner cocktail bar and buffet with finger food filled one corner. Flutes of champagne were handed all around, and Emma couldn’t resist the bubbly. Servers ran around, making sure they were well taken care of.

  By everyone not in their group, Damian was referred to as Mr. Davidson. She’d never experienced anything like the craziness that was the celebrity life before.

  Emma didn’t know why Mark insisted she drive with them when Damian had offered to take her. She had a hunch he wanted to make sure no one infringed on her and Richard’s “date.”

  However, when they got to the Cape Town Stadium, she understood why arriving with Damian wouldn’t have been a good idea. A swarm of photographers and journalists waited for him. They stood with their huge professional cameras, some a little more inconspicuous, waiting for their shot at him. With her being so all over the place with Damian, it was good to not be in the middle of a tabloid-cover frenzy.

  Mark ushered them in quickly, knowing which direction to go. Emma had begged Stephanie to get her crutches so she could put her weight more on her good foot. Richard still insisted on supporting most of her weight, though, as she maneuvered awkwardly on the crutches in the bustle to get to their section. She didn’t bother trying to exercise her twenty-first century, modern, bra-burning independence.

  Damian’s sporty Porsche came under siege as he entered the parking lot. She couldn’t even see him in a glance over her shoulder.

  Mark said, as they entered the VIP lounge, Damian would be fine with his people around.

  She wanted to ask about his people, but he entered with two bodyguards in tow, a guy talking profusely on his phone, a woman overdressed for a rugby game with a tape recorder in her hand, and some stray journalists taking last-minute pictures.

  Flashes blinded her. She would be cross-eyed in some of the pictures.

  Emma knew then for certain she had made an utter fool of herself by surrendering to Damian. How could I have kissed Damian Davidson? Am I in my right mind? Clearly not.

  Now she sat between Damian and Richard watching a rugby game she had no interest in. She took a huge gulp from her flute and swallowed it in one go. The bubbles coursed down her throat, and her eyes watered.

  “Slow down,” Damian whispered next to her.

  Before she could tell him to mind his own business, Richard talked to her. “It would be interesting to see what the new coach has done with the team.”

  Since Stephanie’s little speech at the dinner table a couple of nights before, Richard spoke to her about rugby like she was an authority on all things pertaining to scrums, tries, and sports politics.

  “Mmm….” she mumbled as bubbles shot up her nose, after she took a sip.

  As the champagne took effect, the sounds around her became muted, the feeling of suffocation diminished.

  After the anthems were sung, the kick off whistle blew, and Emma blinked rapidly. Oh this won’t do. She tried to find a place to set her flute.

  “I’ll take care of it.” A server appearing out of nowhere took the flute from her.

  “Thank you,” she said to the disappearing blur.

  She bent forward to see what Stephanie was doing; Stephanie pointed out plays to Mark, who intently listened to her. Emma took a deep breath; she used to do that with their father, too.

  Emma never believed she needed to know what went on at rugby games. She understood the rules and how the match should be played. She’d never come for the rugby, but because of her father. She’d enjoyed spending time with him. All three of them would dress up, faces painted, and scream their lungs out. She made sure to know all the players’ names so they could argue at the dinner table.

  It’s been four years. Four years since she’d followed a game on TV, much less gone to a live match. She couldn’t watch any kind of sport. All those painted faces reminded her of her and her sister with their father supporting their favorite teams. She already knew what she’d lost. The urge to bolt out of there had her knuckles turning white as she gripped the armrest of her seat.

  A try almost got scored by the other side and everyone around her complained. But she didn’t commiserate with them, if she did, they would notice her freaking out.

  A hand took hold of hers. She didn’t need to look up to recognize Damian. “Are you okay?” he whispered.

  She bit the inside of her mouth. “I need to go to the ladies’ room.”

  He searched around for her crutches and then helped her up.

  When Richard made a move to assist, she told him to enjoy the game and that she would be back shortly. Even to her, her voice sounded stilted.

  She ignored the worried frown from Stephanie and let Damian lead her out of the lounge. They walked down the hallway and she started to breathe again.

  “I’ll wait for you outside,” Damian said when they reached the ladies’ room. She nodded and went inside.

  For a moment she rested her head against the cool, tiled wall. Her hands shaking, she gripped the crutches more firmly, stilling the movement. If she had known she would react this way, she would have insisted on staying at home.

  Letting out a breath, she walked over to one of the sinks. The mirror didn’t bode well. Her usual honey tone was a pale reflection of its former self.

  With one hand, she opened the tap and splashed her face with cold water. Every movement was an effort, and she seriously contemplated whether to let the water dry on her face rather than try to move around in the small space with the chunky crutches and get a hand towel.

  Common sense won out, and she turned to the rack, took a hand towel, and dabbed her face.

  “Emma.” Damian appeared through the door.

  “Get out,” she said, irrationally angry with him.

  “You’ve been in here a while. I came to check to see if you’re fine.” He held his hands up in the universal sign of surrender.

  “I’m sorry, I’m…I’m fine,” she replied, putting down the hand towel.

  “What happened back there?” he asked when she still hadn’t made a move to leave.

  She ran a hand through her hair, causing her curls to bounce around her head. “Do you mind if we don’t talk about it?”

  “I told you to slow down with the champa
gne.” He assumed wrong.

  She frowned. “I didn’t even finish it.”

  “It’s a good thing, if half a glass has you reacting like this.”

  A wave of pain hit her at his words, and her throat closed. This is so the wrong time and the wrong person to have a mental breakdown in front of. She had managed to gain some kind of control as she dried her face; now it’d disappeared. She closed her eyes.

  “Damian,” she said rubbing one eye. “Could you give me a moment?”

  Her measured tone wouldn’t last for long. He needs to leave. Her eyelids hot to the touch, she knew what would happen next.

  He reached out for her, and she backed away causing one crutch to clatter to the floor.

  “Damian, please…I need you to leave,” she said, both hands hiding her face.

  Silently, he took a step closer.

  “Please….”

  He pulled her toward him and held her stiff body against his.

  Silence reigned, as she didn’t know what to say to him. Emotion had closed off her throat making it feel thick, every part of her body experiencing acute ache. She still wanted him to leave, but she couldn’t make him, physically rendered useless as wave after wave of pain filled her. Useless as memories of her father came crashing down on her.

  It took a while to realize he had been rubbing her back and fat tears leaked through her hands, a while to realize she leaned into him and he supported all of her weight. It registered he was comforting her.

  She stopped crying but not shivering. Her body couldn’t handle the dam of emotion bursting open and experienced the aftershocks.

  “It’s okay. You’re going to be fine,” he said to the top of her head; both hands tried to soothe her now.

  “I’m….”Her teeth clattered.

  “Shush.” He rubbed more fiercely.

  “Damian….” she tried again, but a finger on her lips quieted her. She wrapped her arms around her body.

  With her head resting on his chest, she made an effort to still the inner tremors and hoped hugging herself would stop her whole body from shaking. But the more she focused on herself, the more she shook.