Well aware of her limited knowledge of legal matters, she’d let him and Brian do most of the talking during their call to the enthusiastic agent. As promised, he’d already sent the relevant information to them both.
Meg and her neighbours had accepted her excuse for going away: ‘It’s a personal matter.’ And friends who’d wanted details, believing it was because of a man, had been stalled. They were right, but in a very different way from what they hoped for her future happiness.
Nate was an enigma. Polite and charming, with a definite soft spot for animals, and yet there were times when his eyes were veiled, hiding secrets she’d rather stayed that way.
Keep things professional, get his manuscript viable for publication, and on the way, learn, learn, learn.
The doors were sealed and the plane began to taxi along the runway. Instead of opening her satchel she closed her eyes and let her mind wander to an isolated farm and a tormented hero. She knew little of Outback Australia, but that was where the heroine in her next novel was going.
CHAPTER EIGHT
STRICT RESOLUTIONS TO stay impervious to Nate’s charm dissolved into mush the second Jemma spotted him, standing apart from the waiting crowd. Wearing dark jeans, a black polo top and black sneakers, he depicted exactly the struggling man of her air-flight thoughts. Except with deliberate determination she’d given him green eyes, jet-black crew-cut hair and features as different from Nate’s as possible. In addition, her hero’s clothes and country boots were well worn from hours of hard physical labour.
‘Hi, Jemma. Good flight?’
He reached to take her overnight bag, his fingers brushing lightly against hers. Tingles radiated from his touch. Mush got mushier.
It wasn’t fair that he appeared immune as they walked towards baggage retrieval, his voice its normal tone. ‘Milly’s being collected and we’ll pick her up by the luggage carousel. Do you have the bag you carry her in?’
‘Yes, but...’
‘I have a regular cat carrier in my vehicle. You look tense.’
* * *
Nate’s chest tightened with a pang of guilt as he spoke. Probably due to me. He’d cajoled her into agreement, had told her nothing of his apartment, little of his home, and had avoided mentioning the intricacies of sharing. In fact he hadn’t even mentioned they’d be staying in Sydney tonight.
‘I’ll be fine. The full reality of our co-writing agreement began to really sink in as I packed yesterday. I don’t think it’s going to be as simple as you made it sound, Nate.’
‘My fault, Jemma. The prospect of finally having a finished product made me push too fast and hard. Are you having regrets?’
‘A few—all minor. Not enough to make me back out. It’ll be a win for me too, remember?’
‘From now on I promise to answer any questions you have with as much detail as you want.’
As long as they were literary, legal or general. Nothing personal. And he’d have to fudge any questions pertaining to how he’d gained the gritty basics of his story.
‘Thank you.’
Suitcases and bags were already jostling around the turns of the conveyer belt, and passengers, two and three deep, nudged others in attempts to spot and retrieve theirs. Not being in a hurry, Nate and Jemma stayed away, leaving room for the impatient ones to succeed and leave.
‘How many suitcases do you have?’ Nate asked, glancing around for an available trolley.
‘One. Bright blue, with purple and yellow ribbons tied on the handle.’ She held her handbag, and the bag for Milly. The other two were on the ground between them.
‘One? That’s all? Plus this carry-on and the satchel? I’ll admit your handbag’s big, but for a two-week trip...’
Her shoulders relaxed, and she laughed. ‘You do have a washing machine in your remote humpy, don’t you, Nate? Unless you’re planning for us to go dining and dancing every night, I have all I’ll need.’
‘There’s all the amenities a lady requires,’ he kidded, ignoring her jibe, glad to see her relax. ‘And if we make good progress by the end of the week I’ll drive you into town for a hamburger.’
Her smile widened. ‘A true Aussie incentive.’
She twisted to allow a couple to pass, and glanced across the terminal.
‘Looks like Milly’s here.’
A man in a labelled uniform was walking towards them holding a pet carrier. Milly’s plaintive mews became audible as he grew nearer. Nate signed the form and retrieved the kitten, which tried to climb up his arm.
‘Steady, little one—watch the skin.’ He slipped her into the material bag now hanging over Jemma’s shoulder, and moved over to join the few remaining people by the carousel. Within minutes they were exiting the lift on the fifth floor of the car park.
Nate stopped at the rear of his SUV, pulled his keys from the pocket of his jeans and activated the locks. He stowed Jemma’s suitcase, turned, and then frowned at the sight of her perplexed expression.
‘What?’
‘It’s an Outback monster for travelling and camping in the bush.’
‘And that’s a problem because...?’
It was perfect for him—it could go anywhere and carry any load required.
She made that huff-laugh mixture sound he liked as he tucked the other two pieces of luggage in safely.
‘I assumed you’d have one of those sleek modern cars they advertise on television. I have no idea why. I guess it’s the aura you emanate.’
He straightened up, throwing his head back and laughing out loud, causing the couple passing by to stare, and Milly to wriggle against Jemma’s chest.
‘I emanate an aura? Before I allow you anywhere near my friends or family I’ll need a solemn vow you’ll never repeat that remark to anyone, Jemma Harrison.’
He guided her to the front passenger seat, unable to contain his mirth. ‘Mind you, I do like the way saying it has made you blush. Let me take Milly while you hop in. I’ve secured her carrier behind the driver’s seat so she’ll be able to see you.’
Cradling the kitten to his chest, he walked round and put her into the brand-new carrier. She vocally made her dislike of being caged for a second time quite clear.
‘Opinionated little devil, isn’t she?’ he said, backing out with care. ‘Not surprising after today’s new experiences.’
There was little talk as he drove through the heavy traffic. When it became apparent they were heading north across the Harbour Bridge he heard her sharp intake of breath.
‘Did I mention we’ll be staying here tonight and heading off in the morning? We’ll get a better run through the traffic and it’ll give Milly a break.’
‘No, you didn’t. But I agree. I’d like my first view of the mountains to be in daylight. I might even take a few photos.’
‘For painting or writing? Have you started a new book, or are you still labouring on the current one?’
‘I’ve typed up a rough synopsis and filled in character charts for my new hero and heroine. But they’ve been side-lined until yours is finished.’
‘Do you want to discuss it?’
‘No.’ Sharp and abrupt. ‘Sorry. One fictitious romance at a time for me.’
Convinced she’d suffered a painful break-up in the past, he bit back a quip about them being preferable to real life.
The scenes she’d revised had shown genuine anticipation of hope for a shared future between the man and woman. If she taught him how, he’d be able to go solo again. Perversely, instead of being motivational, he found the prospect disheartening.
With that disturbing thought running through his head he exited the highway.
‘Not far to go. I’ve got a tossed salad in the fridge and steak ready to grill for dinner. I’d like to leave early tomorrow, and stop for breakfast when we’re clear of the city.’
‘Sound
s good.’ Jemma’s answer was automatic, her mind focussed on the buildings they were passing. Each one was tall—multi-storeys tall—the iconic apartment blocks of all the pictures of the northern side of the harbour.
How far was ‘not far’? How long until they reached more moderate dwellings? Were there any near the water in this area? If this was where he usually stayed... She raised her head, trying to count floor after floor heading skywards as he turned off the road and stopped to activate the gate leading into an underground car park.
‘We’re staying here?’
He flicked a glance at her. His chest rose and fell, and she knew without the slightest doubt that he was in a how-much-to-reveal? mindset. That capacity to blank all emotion from his features must have been an invaluable asset for a reporter. Add his knack of knowing when to hold back on giving information himself, and it was no mystery how he’d become a success.
She dismissed the girlfriend angle, and the chance of it being a friend’s place, because he’d have mentioned either of those. It had to be family owned or his. Which meant...
He negotiated the downward curves to the second level as she mulled this over, and parked in an assigned spot.
‘You’re rich.’
It came out as a negative personal trait.
Switching off the engine, he unbuckled his safety belt and faced her.
‘Yes, compared to some—minor league compared to others. Wealth is relative, Jemma.’
The blunt edge to his tone should have warned her not to stoke the fire, but completely out of character she continued.
‘An apartment in this area puts the owner in the big league—especially if it’s a second home, just for when you’re in town.’
Add to that however many shares he owned, plus income from advising others on buying and selling... It explained his assured demeanour, and how he could take his time writing a lengthy stand-alone novel.
His guttural growl and narrowed eyes shook her from her reverie.
‘What the hell difference does it make, Jemma? Does it mean you want to break our agreement?’
No! The word resonated in her head and contrition set in. Why had she raised the subject? She wanted to be the one to take his bad scenes apart, twist and tweak them and add magic to enchant the readers. More than she could ever remember wanting anything else in her life.
His economic status had nothing to do with their professional relationship. She had no idea why she was reacting this way—unless it was as a diversion from her responses to his smile, his voice. To the mere presence of him in her life. He’d awoken feelings she’d deliberately blocked since her betrayal, and she was in danger of having them torn apart again if she didn’t regain control.
‘No—and I apologise. Please forgive me.’ She unfurled fingers pressed subconsciously into her palms and instinctively reached out to touch his arm, pulling back before making contact.
He moved quicker, clasping her hand in his with firm yet gentle pressure.
‘I only take credit for what I’ve earned, and I concede that I’m doing okay. My siblings and I moved in here after my grandparents relocated to their house on the coast, which now belongs to my parents. The three of us inherited it seven years ago, after our grandfather died. He was the one with the foresight to invest in the building project and buy a unit off the plan.’
He released his hold and clicked her seat belt open.
‘Let’s go up. I think Milly’s ready for a run-around.’
His tone decreed the subject closed.
They exited the lift into a small foyer. Nate turned left, unlocked the door and allowed her to enter first. She walked in with confidence, believing that movies, television shows and her sister’s mansion had prepared her for a luxurious sight.
But TV screens showed mere backdrops, and Vanessa’s home was at ground level. This was high in the sky and had an almost touchable illusion. Jemma halted a few paces into a spacious kitchen with a marble-topped island, taking a slow panoramic scan of the open-plan design encompassing dining and living areas too, with a view of city lights at sundown. It ran the whole width of the apartment, with floor-to-ceiling windows on two sides.
It took a moment for her to refocus and acknowledge the quality of the dining and multi-piece entertaining settings. The light colour of the beech wood furniture complemented the bright blue shadings of the modular lounge, the two large deep-pile rugs and the open curtains. The scattering of mismatched bright multi-coloured cushions was the only aspect that didn’t appear home-stylist-selected.
For her, it was too neat and clean—like a show home waiting to impress a buyer and lure them into a purchase contract. Or as if there was no permanent resident.
She looked at Nate, who was watching her with an amused expression. ‘It’s very impressive, Nate.’
‘It’s just an apartment, Jemma. One that isn’t lived in much at the moment, but is regularly serviced by a cleaning firm. Let me release Milly, then I’ll show you to the guest room.’
He placed the pet carrier on the sparkling clean mottled tiles and released the catch. Milly came out in a rush, stopped to look around, then began to explore her new surroundings with interest. Jemma empathised with her curiosity, and wished she felt as unperturbed.
Earned or inherited, Nate had fortune beyond anything she’d ever realise, and he accepted it as normal, his due right. Her ex had aspired to material possessions, and been willing to take a shortcut up the corporate ladder. Could she differentiate between the two?
‘It’s like a magazine picture, Nate. Like the luxury hotels I’ve researched. Like my sister Vanessa’s new home in Melbourne, exclusive-decorator-furnished and ultra-modern, but...’
Her voice trailed away. She had to admit it would be a perfect setting for Vanessa, just as Nate fitted easily here.
‘It’s not your style? We did a full upgrade after we inherited—designed it to make a base for us when we are in Sydney, and a family place for visiting relatives and friends. Feel free to take photos or make notes for literary descriptive purposes.’ He gestured towards the lounge area. ‘This way.’
Carrying her big handbag, only used for travelling and shopping expeditions, and her laptop satchel, she followed him to a door in the wall that backed most of the open area. Opening it, he went in far enough to place her case and overnight bag on the floor, then stepped away.
If Jemma had been asked what she’d expected, the monster of a bed against the wall wouldn’t have made the list, however long. She’d be lost in it alone.
Turning to ask if there was a smaller alternative, she was beaten by Nate’s ready answer. ‘They’re all that big—and very comfortable. No chance of falling out when you roll over.’
The words were barely out when his expression changed. His lips firmed into a tight line, his throat convulsed and his eyes darkened. He seemed to have trouble speaking, and sounded huskier than he had a moment ago.
‘En suite’s through there. I’ll be in the family room.’
He strode out, closing the door behind him, leaving her bewildered by the change. Trying to fathom its cause, she laid her suitcase flat and took out her toiletries bag.
There’d been nothing in his demeanour or tone as he’d described the bed’s merits and glanced from her to it.
And then she was back on the words ‘when you roll over.’
Had he imagined a similar scene to the one in her head as she’d stared at that great expanse of supportive mattress and the cosy light green quilt? Not going to happen. Bad move for them both. His novel was number one priority.
After freshening up in the immaculate, clean en suite, she listened for a moment at the open door, shy at the prospect of facing him, and afraid that her face would reveal her imagined scenario.
An intriguing jingling sound and the low hum of his laughter drew her out. Apart from those in fro
nt of the dining area the curtains had all been closed, making the large space seem homelier.
Nate was sitting cross-legged on one of the carpets, dangling a ball on a string, up and down, and chuckling as Milly tried to swat it. Both were apparently absorbed in the game. There was no trace of the emotion he’d displayed in the bedroom, though she noticed his shoulders flexed before he turned his head in her direction.
* * *
Scooping the kitten up and tickling her ears, Nate rose to his feet. Being physically occupied with a simple task, he’d tried to clear his head of visions of Jemma in that room and bolster his need to treat her as a working colleague. The amendments had to take precedence, and he needed to focus on her writing skills—her most important attribute as far as he should be concerned.
After his previous responses to her he’d steeled himself, and once again reinforced his defences on the drive to the airport. Outwardly he believed he’d succeeded, but inside his heightening reactions had him determining to...to what? Stay away from a house guest with whom he was supposed to be collaborating? Go for long runs, leaving her alone?
He’d known Jemma was near. The back of his neck had tingled, he’d breathed in through his nostrils, seeking an elusive aroma, and his pulse had quickened. He’d twisted his head and seen her watching him, body stiff, eyes wary.
Her newly brushed hair flowed neatly down her back, and he so wanted to muss it up a little, or have a few strands lie across her shoulders, so he could lift them into place, or run them through his fingers. Her short-sleeved loose top with its yellow leaf pattern and her tan trousers were ideal for travelling. But the image imprinted in his head was of the blue dress she’d worn for their dinner date.
Not a date. A celebration of a business deal.
‘Hi, take a seat while I start dinner. The TV remote’s in the drawer of the coffee table.’ He bent to put Milly on the floor. ‘You stay out from under my feet, okay?’
The expected background noise didn’t come as he activated the grill and took the bottle of white wine he’d opened last night and the steaks from the fridge. Leaving the meat on the benchtop, he turned towards the dining table, already set for two, including two glasses in an ice bucket at one end.
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