more stepfathers?’
Jake shot her a dark look. ‘No.’
‘I’m sorry, that was out of line.’ Moira had gone through three husbands and several lovers. Meg was sure it was her personality that attracted them; she tended to be light and cheerful most of the time. It was the rest of the time that was the problem.
Their meal arrived and Meg tried to concentrate on the flavour of her lasagna, but its taste was lost on her. Nothing registered with her as real except Jake on the other side of the table and the strained distance between them.
What did she care anyway? That was the point, after all, she kept telling herself. All she had to do was get this over and done with and she could get back to her life. The thought echoed around in her mind. It had a hollow ring to it.
‘And how’s Danny?’ Meg was sure that he was a safe subject, if not a flamboyant one. Danny had been Jake’s best friend for as long as she could remember, sticking with him through thick and thin despite their different natures.
She could see Jake swallow hard. ‘Haven’t seen him in years.’ The indifference in his icy tone shook her. They’d been so close. She would have thought nothing could come between the two of them; they were inseparable. The times Danny would drag Jake off to the pub or to a party…
She shook herself. ‘So how’s work?’ She knew that would get a response. For Jake there was nothing more important. She swallowed another mouthful of lasagna and felt it struggle down her throat.
‘Do you really care, or are you just humouring me?’
‘Of course I’m interested to hear what adventures you’ve found yourself over the last three years.’ She felt she needed reminding of what had held a higher priority than she had, so she could crush the flutters coming from the vicinity of her heart.
Jake raised an eyebrow. ‘As you know I went to Delhi. That was for a gas pipeline. The job dragged on and when I got back you were gone. Well and truly gone.’
She could hear the bitterness in his voice and concentrated on her plate. She swallowed the brick in her throat. ‘Go on.’
He explained how he’d gone from one construction site to another, until it had all blurred into one conglomerate called work. The way Jake spoke it seemed the passion he’d once had for his work was missing. Either that or he was unwilling to share it with her. She didn’t blame him if that was the case.
Jake put down his spoon, his half-eaten gelato melting in the bowl. ‘So what happened, Meg?’
She took a big breath. ‘I didn’t want to be left alone, Jake. My father had done it long enough. I couldn’t do it again.’
‘That’s it?’
‘It was enough,’ Meg whispered hoarsely, her voice threatening to abandon her completely. She wanted to scream at him that he had no idea what it was like to be alone, to wait and then finally, when you thought you’d get some attention and love, something better came up—and it was back to the waiting. And waiting was rejection all over again. Hovering around the front window, the phone and the mailbox for any word from him.
‘Look, I don’t know whether I ever actually said it, but I’m sorry about your dad. I loved him too.’ Jake reached a hand over the table, enclosing hers in his warmth.
A delicious shudder heated Meg’s body. She looked up and her heart lurched madly at the heart-rending tenderness of his gaze.
‘I know.’ She put down the wine. ‘It must have been hard for you to be there—’ She choked on the words. She knew only too well now what had gone on in the last few minutes of her father’s life.
‘I’ll never forget that moment.’ Jake faltered. ‘When that chain slipped and that pipe fell…I’ll never forget.’
Tears sprang into her eyes and she wiped them away jerkily. That moment had changed her whole life. If Jake hadn’t been there; if her father had been standing a metre to one side; if she’d seen the truth before she’d married Jake…
She didn’t dare look at Jake. She couldn’t, just in case she broke down and told him everything—opening herself up again to him and paying for it later.
The silence between them hung heavily, becoming harder and harder to penetrate as the minutes ticked by. Meg’s mind fumbled for something to say. Anything to say.
‘So when is Vivian arriving?’ she blurted.
Jake snapped his eyes to hers, then fixed them on the bill on the table. ‘Oh, um…at six…tomorrow evening.’ He dropped some notes onto the bill and stood up.
‘I’ll make an appointment for her on Friday, then.’ Meg rose, wrapping her black cardigan around her shoulders. Pain squeezed her heart at how easily she’d been replaced in his life—if she’d ever been a part of it at all.
He put a hand around her shoulder, letting it drop to the small of her back as he steered her out of the restaurant.
The touch of his hand was almost unbearable in its gentleness, reminding her again of all she’d lost.
‘I’ll take you home.’
‘No!’ The last thing she wanted was Jake anywhere near her house. ‘I’m fine. I don’t live far. A taxi is fine.’
‘If it’s not far, then there’s no argument.’ His voice was firm, final, and he showed no sign of relenting as he nudged her towards the parked cars.
They walked down the footpath and Meg’s mind rattled around in circles. Mixed feelings surged through her. Half of her wanted to heave the hard truth from her shoulders onto his; the other wanted nothing more than to crawl into her bed and wait until he was gone again.
Jake stopped beside a black BMW.
Meg was surprised. ‘No four-wheel drive?’
‘I’m not your father, Meg.’ His expression darkened with an unreadable emotion.
Meg looked away. She knew that! Every inch of her knew that. How was she going to survive the drive with him when already the tension between them was making her ill?
He opened the door for her and she slipped into the car. The heady new leather smell hit her first, and then the opulence of what appeared to be a brand-new car. The seat cushioned her perfectly, and the dashboard was a myriad of controls that blurred into insignificance as Jake claimed the driver’s seat beside her.
The spacious car suddenly felt cramped. The leather scent mingled with the scent of his spicy cologne, igniting Meg’s senses, reminding her body of what it had once known, what was so close to her again.
She breathed slowly, willing herself to keep her attention away from him, away from his muscled thighs so close to her. The fabric of his trousers stretched taut as he worked the clutch, gunning the motor to life and slipping the car into motion. One hand held the wheel, the other was on the stick shift…large hands and long fingers that Meg recalled being as gentle and persuasive as they were hard and strong.
The journey seemed to take for ever. When he finally pulled up outside the terraced
