He folded his arms over his head, groaning inside. Walking beside her under the trees, with the splashes of light and the heady scents, his senses had skewed. All he’d wanted to do was kiss her, but she’d run away. Why had he followed?
He squeezed his eyes shut, mining his emotions. Because they’d shared the day, shared pieces of their lives. They’d laughed and cried and, in his case, ranted. He’d had to go after her to make sure that she was all right, because...he felt something shifting, like a log in the grate...because she was special. He’d let her in, had given her a piece of himself that he’d never given to anyone else, not even Astrid. He’d told her how he really felt about his father, everything spilling out because...because she had no connection to his family. He’d been able to talk about Lars without being made to feel disloyal.
Cold filled his belly like a tumour. Astrid had specialised in construction law because she’d always been destined to join Larsson Lüning. She’d always been close to Karl, especially after her mother died, and she’d always wanted to make Karl happy. He’d never questioned that, had never thought he was bothered by it, but what if, without realising it, he’d always kept a corner of himself stuck down...what if he’d never properly been himself with Astrid because of her connection to the business...to Lars? He felt a pinprick, an ache gathering around it. If he’d felt like that, then maybe Astrid had too. Had there always been a little bit of distance between them...?
He rolled himself up slowly, feeling an acid ache in his belly. His history seemed to be shattering like a mirror, splinters everywhere, shards of the past skewing, throwing up dislocated reflections. He’d have to interrogate those splinters, fit them back together so he could see the real picture. He massaged his forehead. More than ever, he needed a friend, someone to talk to. Emilie? He’d opened up and let her in, and because of it he’d felt so close to her... But had he lost control, lost himself inside her kiss because he was lost, and confused—on the rebound—looking for sweet distraction and comfort?
He blew out a long sigh. If he was on the rebound, looking for physical comfort, if he couldn’t be sure of his feelings, then his feelings weren’t good enough for Emilie. She’d been through enough heartache with Tom. She didn’t need the sorry tailings of his confusion.
He got to his feet and reached for the mainsail. At least things hadn’t gone too far... And Emilie had called after him, said it was okay, so maybe they could put the kiss behind them and still be friends. He felt a stab of guilt. He’d glimpsed her through the kitchen door that morning and had turned on his heel, unable to face her, but now he needed to see her, to square everything away. He’d make amends, somehow, but first, he had to stow the sails.
* * *
‘So...you were out with Mr Larsson yesterday...?’
Emilie felt a knot tightening in her belly. She’d known Melinda would be too curious not to call, but she didn’t want to talk about Joel. His kiss was still tingling on her lips, and she was in a tangle about it, unsure of what the fallout was going to be, but whatever it was, she needed to deal with it on her own, not be always clinging to other people, leaning on them.
She took a breath to speak, then noticed the kitchen door. ‘Sorry, could you hold on a sec...?’ She went to close it. Joel didn’t seem to be around, but she didn’t want to risk him overhearing. She pressed the phone to her ear again, reaching for a breezy tone. ‘Hi...so, yeah, I was with Joel, but it’s nothing. I just bumped into him in Road Town and he asked me if I wanted to visit the distillery with him...’ Not quite the truth, but near enough. ‘It sounded like fun, so I went.’
‘Uh-huh...’
She held in a smile. Melinda could say so much without saying any actual words. ‘We did the tour, then we did the forest trail. Joel wanted to go up to the lookout point, but I was running out of time, so he offered to bring me back. It seemed sensible so I called Erris to cancel—’
‘And Erris told me that Joel didn’t get back to the house until after nine.’
‘Ah!’ She swallowed hard, trying not to think bad thoughts about Erris. ‘That’s because we had dinner at Clara’s Kitchen. Joel likes street food and since he was bringing me back, I could hardly say no.’
‘Hmm...’ Melinda’s voice was teetering on the edge of laughter. ‘I can see that you were in quite a predicament...’
‘Melinda!’ In spite of herself, she could feel a giggle vibrating in her belly.
‘I’m only teasing.’ Melinda was chuckling and then her tone shifted, became gentle. ‘I think you had a nice time though, didn’t you?’
How could Melinda read her so well? She felt the knot in her belly loosening, memories unspooling, blue-grey eyes burning into hers: ‘It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen...’ Maybe talking about it would help. She bit her lips together. ‘Yes, I did. I like him, Melinda, a lot. He’s a really good guy.’
‘I could see that when I was showing him around, not that he said much, but...’ there was a little pause ‘...with some people you can just tell.’
She pictured Tom, felt her heart shrinking. ‘Can you though?’
Melinda made a little tutting noise. ‘That’s just the hurt talking.’
‘Probably!’ She blew out a sigh. ‘I’m not in the best place and Joel’s been through some stuff too, and he’s only here for a couple of weeks so—’
‘Stop thinking so hard.’ Melinda’s voice was like nectar. ‘You’re in the Caribbean now. Go with the flow, honey. If you like him and he likes you then enjoy it for what it is. God knows you deserve some sweetness after everything you’ve been through.’
Sweetness? Was Melinda encouraging her to have a fling? She didn’t see herself as a fling kind of person, and yet, if Joel hadn’t walked away last night, would she have put the brakes on? She closed her eyes, remembering his perfect mouth, the heat inside it, the way he’d tasted on her tongue, that deep, warm smell he had, the hard crush of his body. Heat pooled in her belly. She hadn’t been going to say anything about the kiss, but suddenly she needed to let it all out. ‘Melinda...’ she swallowed hard ‘...he kissed me.’
A deep rich chuckle filled her ear. ‘And how was it?’
She felt warmth flooding into her chest. ‘Sublime! It was heart-stopping, toe-curling, mind-blowing. Every cliché you can think of!’
‘You’re lucky! Some people go their whole lives without ever feeling that with someone.’
Then why didn’t she feel lucky? She’d spent the morning in turmoil, wondering how Joel was feeling, wondering where he was and whether they really were still friends, then worrying that she was only doing half the job she was being paid to do, breaching her contract. She stared at the island unit. Well, maybe not today. It was covered with the roast medallions of pork, the corn meal dumplings, the fried plantains and the callaloo she’d made. Street food. For Joel.
She bit her lip. ‘So you think I should be more laid back about...things?’
‘I think you should take things as they come and enjoy the break because when Mr Larsson... Joel...leaves, we’re back to a full house. You’re gonna be busy!’ A little fretting noise suddenly filled the earpiece. Ben! Melinda must have been holding him all this time. ‘I’ve got to go. This young man wants a feed.’
She felt a lump filling her throat. ‘I can’t wait to meet him.’
‘And you will, next week! And if you want to invite Joel to the party, go right ahead. He’s welcome.’
Would Joel want to go? He liked peace and quiet and if Anton and his troupe were performing it would be nothing short of a carnival! But, if she asked him to go, then maybe it could re-seal their friendship, help to smooth over the confusion of the night before. It was something to hope for. ‘You’re so kind, Melinda, welcoming strangers to your celebration.’
‘You’re not a stranger! You’re my other daughter! And Joel is your friend so you’re both welcome, always. Now,
you just take care of yourself.’ And then she was gone.
‘You’re my other daughter!’
A glow filled her heart. Talking to Melinda had made her feel better. To think she’d almost kept everything to herself, wanting to be independent, not wanting to be clingy. She turned her phone over and over in her hands. Melinda had never made her feel as though she was clinging and neither had her grandmother, but Tom had—especially towards the end—and at times so had her parents and her sisters.
Funny how the people who were supposed to love her, but who’d never seemed to have, or been prepared to make, enough room in their lives for her, were the ones who’d accused her of being clingy. She sucked in a breath. Maybe the problem wasn’t all hers!
She put her phone down and surveyed the spread laid out on the island unit. So much food! What had she been thinking? Absently, she knotted her shirt around her waist. The truth was that she hadn’t been thinking, not about food anyway. She’d arrived early, hoping to catch Joel so they could talk about things straight away, but he hadn’t appeared and there’d been no evidence that he’d had breakfast.
And then she’d started thinking about him—that kiss—wondering if they’d be able to get past it, then she’d been worrying about not giving him enough to eat, and all the while, in a sort of trance, she must have started throwing dishes together based on what they’d had at Clara’s. Enough to feed an army, but where was he?
Sailing? She went outside and across the terrace, passing the pool, until she was at the parapet. She looked down to the beach, felt her heart skittering. He was there, lying on the catamaran, arms folded over his head. The mainsail and jib were lowered. So, not sailing then, just...what? Avoiding her? She drew in a long, steadying breath. If he was feeling awkward about what had happened the night before, there was no shame in it. She was in the same boat, but they needed to confront it, put real trust in one another, not by playing games on the beach, but by talking.
For a beat she held her breath, measuring the impulse that was stirring in her chest, then she turned, heading back to the house. She felt a connection with Joel, but she wasn’t clinging and it didn’t have to end in heartache. Heartache only happened if the heart was involved and her heart wasn’t. Joel did strange things to her pulse and his kiss was definitely the best thing she had ever tasted, but she could be strong, strong enough to push past all that. She didn’t need him, but she liked him. She liked his smile, liked the way he made her feel when he looked at her.
‘You’re in the Caribbean now. Go with the flow.’
She felt a smile edging on to her lips. Whatever it was that had started flowing with Joel was nice. He made her feel special and, maybe, if she hurried, she’d be able to make him feel special too...
* * *
‘Hey, Joel!’
Emilie! His heart lurched and his teeth crunched as his head struck the metal underside of the rear beam. ‘Skit!’
‘Oh, God! I’m sorry...’ Her voice was getting closer. ‘I didn’t mean to startle you. Are you all right?’
He tested his jaw, glad that the hulls on either side of him and the trampoline above him were hiding his face. ‘I’m fine.’ He rubbed the top of his head hard. ‘Just...give me a second, okay?’ He snatched a breath, felt shame scorching a hole in his chest. He’d fled from the house first thing because he hadn’t been able to face her and now she’d come to him. He felt wrong-footed, awkward, ungallant.
‘What are you doing?’ There was a bright ring to her voice that sounded slightly forced.
‘Stowing the sails. I’m nearly done.’ He gritted his teeth and gave the mainsail a final shove before scooting clear of the platform and rocking back to his heels.
She was standing on the leeward side of the hull in loose denim cut offs and a white shirt, knotted at the waist, exposing a tantalising portion of smooth, taut midriff. Her hair was tied up loosely, tendrils blowing against the soft curve of her neck. He felt heat curling in his belly and pulsing in his groin.
She pushed her sunglasses up. ‘How’s your head?’
He touched the tender spot on his crown, hiding a wince with a smile. ‘I’ll live. It probably sounded worse than it feels.’
‘Actually...’ Her face brightened. ‘I’ve got some ice!’ She dropped to her knees and started unzipping a large cool bag which he hadn’t noticed until that very moment. Her eyes flicked up, holding his. ‘I also have lunch, so I hope you’re hungry...’
Uncertainty in her eyes, but she’d come anyway. He felt tenderness blooming in his chest. She was being strong, not letting what had happened come between them, and her strength was bolstering his own, giving him something to lean on. He felt a smile taking over his face as he ploughed towards her on his knees. ‘I’m not bothered about the ice, but I am hungry!’
Her eyes twinkled. ‘Just as well since I’ve radically upped the portion sizes!’ She smiled, handing him a folded-up tablecloth. ‘Could you spread that out?’
‘Sure!’ He toyed with the fabric. She was being breezy, but he could feel the ghost of their kiss shimmering in the air. He needed to exorcise it. The problem was, he didn’t know what to say. He unfurled the cloth, anchoring the edges while she plonked down plastic boxes, plates and cutlery. When she shot him a little smile, it suddenly struck him that maybe all he had to do was open himself out like the cloth, see what could be laid down on it. He inhaled a slow breath. ‘Emilie, do you want to talk about last night?’
Her hands stilled and then she looked up. ‘I do if you do.’ Her gaze was soft, filled with gentle curiosity.
He felt his shoulders loosening, his imaginary elevator taking him up a floor. This was already better, feeling that whatever place they were in, they were in it together. He slid a hand to the back of his neck, trying to forget the way she’d tasted, the way she’d wanted him. ‘I don’t want you thinking that I stopped because of you...because I didn’t want to...’
Her tongue touched her lower lip. ‘But you did stop.’
‘Because I can’t...’ Splinters and shards glittered inside his head. He swallowed. ‘I don’t know if I can trust myself any more.’
‘Yourself?’ She was frowning. ‘After what you’ve been through, I’d have thought that trusting someone else would be the hard part—’
‘But that’s the thing.’ He felt a wave of hopelessness. ‘I have a feeling that it’s me. That there’s something wrong with me...something I’m not seeing about myself.’
‘Joel...’ She was looking at him carefully. ‘What happened with your fiancée?’
He tuned in to the sound of the waves. What had happened was simple enough. It was the whole big before that he was struggling with now, the before that was coming in and out of focus, bending his brain, giving him an acid ache in his stomach.
‘Joel...?’
He blinked. Emilie had been so open about Tom and Rachel, but he didn’t have a story. There was no ruined business, no cheating partner, well, not exactly. He shrugged. ‘Nothing happened. Astrid realised that she didn’t love me enough to marry me, that’s all.’ He checked in with his heart, then carried on. ‘She thought that she was falling for my brother, Johan.’
‘What?’ Her eyes were wide, blazing into his. ‘That’s... It must have torn you apart.’
Like she’d been torn apart. That was what she was thinking. She was joining dots, finding ways to empathise with him because she was all feeling, all heart, but for some reason her kindness was making him feel like a fraud. He scooped up a handful of sand, tightening his fist around it. ‘It tore me up for a minute or so and then the tearing stopped!’ Saying it out loud was making his neck prickle. ‘I told you before, I feel like I’m in limbo. I’m dislocated.’ He bit down on his lip. ‘I’d thought that maybe it was the shock, but it’s been eight weeks now—eight weeks—and I’m still waiting to find out where it hurts.’
She was che
wing her lip. ‘Were you together long?’
Why did that question make everything feel worse? He loosened his fingers, letting sand stream through his fist. ‘Since we were teenagers. Astrid was my first girlfriend.’ He dusted his hands together, felt his cheeks going warm. ‘I’m rather unworldly, I suppose.’
She blinked. ‘So am I.’ She reached two beers out of the cool bag and handed him a bottle opener. ‘How did you meet her?’
Another question that seemed to be stirring the acid in his stomach. He blew out a breath. ‘Astrid’s father, Karl, is Lars’s business partner, so our families are—’ he crossed his fingers ‘—like this! That said, I only got to know Astrid properly after her mother was killed in a car accident. Karl brought her to the island for the summer. She’s an only child. Maybe he thought that being with us would help.’
A shadow flitted across Emilie’s eyes. ‘You looked after her, didn’t you?’
His heart bumped. He’d never looked at it that way. He shrugged. ‘I think we just hung out because we both liked sailing.’ He opened the beers and they chinked bottles. ‘Anyway, that’s how it started.’ He tasted the beer, then swigged. Emilie’s eyes were on him, wanting more. Maybe talking would help. He peeled back a loose edge of the bottle label.
‘Astrid’s a lawyer, a specialist in construction law. She always intended to work for Larsson Lüning, but she was getting experience elsewhere in the meantime. Sadly, Karl has Parkinson’s disease and a few months ago his health deteriorated sharply, so Astrid had to step up and take her place on the Board.
Harlequin Romance April 2021 Box Set Page 56