years ago, my father had a health scare, prompting him to semi-retire and move with my mother to the south coast. It was my motivation for coming home for good—a decision I’ve never regretted in the slightest.’
She heard honest affection in his voice and envied that relationship. She couldn’t imagine her parents or sister giving up their careers for anyone—hoped she’d be more compassionate.
Sensing he’d divulged more than he’d intended when he’d agreed to lunch with her, she didn’t reply and finished eating her meal.
* * *
Nate had no idea why he’d revealed private aspects of his life he usually kept to himself. Or why he found it almost impossible to take his eyes off her enchanting, expressive face. His attraction to a woman had never been so immediate, so compelling. So in conflict with his normal emotionless liaisons.
A growing need for open space was compelling. He had to get away from her—away from her subtle floral perfume that had been tantalising him since he’d stepped near enough to greet her. Native rather than commercially grown city flowers, it was delicate and haunting.
He didn’t fight his urgent compulsion to pace and consider all the implications, including any legal ramifications, of collaboration. He needed to think and plan away from the distractions of other people, away from Jemma and his reactions to her, physical and mental.
Noting her plate was empty, he placed his cutlery neatly on his.
‘Do you want dessert or coffee here? Or we could take some time apart to consider our options and meet up later.’
This time her scrutiny was short. yet no less intense.
With an understanding smile he’d rather not have seen, she nodded. ‘That’s a good idea.’
Muscles he hadn’t realised were tight suddenly loosened.
‘I’ll need your phone number.’
Unease flickered in her eyes before she reached for her shoulder bag on the floor. Had it anything to do with her adverse opinion of him at first sight?
He held his mobile towards her, allowing her to input first.
Their empty plates removed, and anything else politely declined, she leant her elbows on the table and cupped her chin on her linked fingers as they waited for the bill.
‘Do you commute from the mountains every day?’ she asked.
‘Electronic media means I can do a fair amount from home. I come in when necessary, or for socialising.’
He hadn’t yet bowed to the pressure to commit to full-time employment with the family firm, wary of the daily sameness stretching into his future.
‘Like today?’
‘Like today.’
And he’d be staying until his flight overseas on Sunday morning.
He settled the account on the way out, irrationally torn between needing to be alone and reluctance to let her go. After saying goodbye, she headed for the railway station without glancing back. He watched for a moment, then strode towards the Harbour Bridge.
JEMMA TOOK NO notice of the world around her as the train sped to Central Station, and as she deliberated on which way to go when she alighted. Her brain buzzed at the compliments Brian had given her, coupled with the sensations from Nate’s few touches and her own responses to his looks and his voice.
Could she handle being in frequent contact with him? Even by email? How would she deal with someone who was averse to allowing her to read anything he’d written?
Consider our options.
Like heck. He oozed the authority of a man who knew exactly what he wanted and rarely settled for less. He’d given no indication of his point of view on their two-way deal, focussing only on his novel.
Brian’s appraisal of her work had been honest and unemotional, letting her know the downsides while still giving her hope of a satisfactory solution. Already aware of her weakness when she’d submitted to him, she was open to any suggestion for improvement.
Could Nate remain impartial to the romance genre when he read her work? How did he feel about helping to transform her inept storytelling? He’d been very forthright about his aversion to allowing her access to his manuscript. Her emotions wavered from exhilaration that she might achieve publication to apprehension that Nate’s expectations might be hard to satisfy.
She walked out of the station and turned towards Circular Quay. Window shopping in Pitt Street would pass the time and occupy her mind. If he didn’t call... She banished that thought. He’d phone—even if it was only to dash any foolish hopes she might have allowed to take seed.
A new dress and two fun presents for her friends later, she was watching the ferries dock and depart as she devoured a fruit and nut bar. She wandered over to where groups of excited people were dragging suitcases towards a huge cruise ship. A holiday to inspire a romance novel? Maybe one day she’d take one.
A brochure she’d picked up on the way showed it wasn’t far from here to the historic Rocks area. If she hadn’t heard from Nate by the time she’d explored the old buildings she’d catch the next train to North Ryde.
* * *
Did he like Jemma? Way too much. Nate had kept his emotions under tight restraint since he’d narrowly escaped being duped into a sham marriage, but he’d had trouble curbing them around her. She’d had doubts concerning him on sight, which had him wondering who he reminded her of.
Did he trust her? Not yet. Experience in dealing with the darker side of life had taught him that trust had to be earned rather than given freely.
Did he want her? His body’s response to any thought of her gave him an instant reply. But that didn’t mean he’d follow through.
Mental arguments for and against dual authorship had got him nowhere, and he was still uncommitted as he reached the waterside. Swinging left, he took the steps leading up to the bridge walkway. After skirting a group of photo-snapping tourists, he took a deep breath of salty air and began to run.
He maintained a steady pace until he reached the apartment block at North Sydney. His grandfather had bequeathed a twenty-third-storey unit jointly to him, Sam and Alice, and all three of them had lived there, alone or together, at various times. It was always available for family and friends when they came to the city.
A long, refreshing shower cooled his body, but didn’t clear his mind. Dressed in fresh clothes, and with a stubby of cold beer in his hand, he stood on the balcony, staring at the buildings around him. Not far away by foot was the office block housing the family brokerage firm, which had offered him a lucrative job for life.
Far away up in the mountains was the home he’d designed, with an architect’s help, to suit the lifestyle he planned to live. Mostly solitary, with occasional guests, pleasing only himself. Closing his eyes, he pictured the view as he woke in the morning,
