against his thigh. ‘We’ll be there soon.’
Pocketing the phone, he continued down the stairs. If he could make it on time to this wedding dinner after the hellish day he’d had, trying to stay on top of two businesses, so could Emma. She was the bridesmaid, after all.
Some sort of relaxation music drifted from the window, accompanying the muted shoosh-boom of the breakers on the beach. He slowed his steps, breathing in the calming fragrant salt air and honeysuckle, and ordered himself to simmer down.
The peal of the door chime accompanied by a sharp rapping on her front door jerked Emma from her work. She refocused, feeling as if she was coming out of a deep-sleep cave. She checked her watch. Blinked. Oh, no. She’d assured Stella she’d be right along when the family had left nearly half an hour ago.
Which officially made her the World’s Worst Bridesmaid.
She stretched muscles cramped from being in one position too long and assured herself her lapse wasn’t because her subconscious mind was telling her she didn’t want to see Jake. She would not let him and that crazy moment yesterday when their eyes had met and the whole world seemed to fade into nothing affect her life. In any way.
Rap, rap, rap.
‘Okay, okay,’ she murmured. She slipped the order of tiny stacked soap flowers she’d been wrapping back into its container and called, ‘Coming!’
Running her hands down the sides of her oversized lab coat, she hurried to the door, swung it open. ‘I …’
The man’s super-sized silhouette filled the doorway, blocking what was left of the twilight and obscuring his features, but she knew instantly who he was by the way her heart bounded up into her throat.
‘Jake.’ She felt breathless, as if she’d just scaled the Harbour Bridge. Ridiculous. Scowling, she flicked on the foyer light. She tried not to admire the view, she really did, but her eyes ate up his dark good-looks like a woman too long on a blond boy diet.
Tonight he wore tailored dark trousers and a chocolate-coloured shirt open at the neck. Hair the colour of aged whisky lifted ever so slightly in the salty breeze.
‘So here you are.’ His tone was brusque, those black-coffee eyes focused sharply on hers.
‘Yes, here I am,’ she said, trying to ignore the hot flush seeing him had brought on and reminding herself where she’d seen him last. The flashback to the strip club made her feel like a gauche schoolgirl and it should not. But she was the one at fault tonight—and the reason he was standing in her doorway.
She gave him a careless smile, determined not to let yesterday spoil this evening. For Stella’s sake. ‘And running late,’ she rushed on. ‘I assume that’s why you’re here?’ Why else?
One eyebrow rose and she knew he wasn’t impressed. ‘You had some people concerned.’ He said it as if he didn’t count himself amongst those people—where had yesterday’s twinkle gone?—while he stepped inside and scanned the dining room table covered in the hand-made goat’s milk soaps she’d been working on.
‘You weren’t answering your phone.’ His gaze swung back to hers again. ‘Not handy when people are trying to contact you.’
Her smile dropped to her feet. Was that censure in his voice? ‘This from the guy who was too busy at his other business to answer his own mobile yesterday?’ she shot back. ‘You do realise I had to pry the info as to your whereabouts from your PA?’
He nodded, his eyes not flinching from hers. ‘So she told me. I apologise for the inconvenience, and for any embarrassment I caused you.’
Emma drew in a deep breath. ‘Okay.’ She forced her mature self to put yesterday’s incident to the back of her mind for now. ‘As for me, I have no legitimate excuse for forgetting the time, so it’s my turn to apologise that you had to be the one to come and get me.’ She tried a smile.
He nodded, his dark eyes warmed, and his whole demeanour mellowed like a languid Sunday afternoon. ‘Apology accepted.’ He leaned down and brushed her cheek with firm lips, and she caught a whiff of subtle yet sexy aftershave before he straightened up again.
Whoa. Yesterday’s tingle was back with a vengeance, running through her entire system at double the voltage. ‘So … um … I’ll just go …’ Feeling off-centre, she backed away, ostensibly towards the tiny area sectioned off by a curtain which she used as a bedroom, but he didn’t take the hint and leave. ‘Look, you go on ahead. I’ll be ready in a jiff and it’s only a ten-minute drive to the restaurant.’
He shrugged, stuck his hands in his trouser pockets. ‘I’m here now.’
Slipping off her flats, she glanced about for her heels. But her eyes seemed drawn to him as if they were on strings. He dressed like a million bucks these days. Still, those threadbare jeans he’d worn way back when had fuelled more teenage fantasies than she cared to remember. She watched him wander towards her table of supplies. With his hands in his pockets, drawing his trousers tight across that firm, cute butt …
No. Sleazy club-owner. Dragging her eyes away, she scoured the floor for her shoes. ‘There’s really no need to wait …’
‘I’m waiting. End of story.’ She heard the crinkle of cellophane as he examined her orders. ‘Your hobby’s still making you some pocket money, then?’
Irritation stiffened her shoulders. She glared at him. ‘It’s not just a hobby, and it’s never been about the money.’ Unlike others who shall remain Nameless. Exhaling sharply through her nose, she swiped up a black stiletto and slipped it on. ‘I have to wonder why it is that helping people with skin allergies seems to you to be a waste of time.’
‘I never sa—’
‘Why don’t you go while I …?’ Calm down. ‘Find my other shoe.’
‘So uptight.’ He tsked. ‘You really need to get out more, Em. Always was too much work and not enough play with you.’ He scooped her shoe from beneath a chair and tossed it to her. ‘Maybe the wedding’ll help things along.’
She caught it one-handed, dropped it in front of her with a clatter and stepped into it, then bent to do up the straps. She’d had it with people telling her how to live her life. Get out more? She let out a huff. She had familial obligations. Had she told him what she thought of the way he was living his life nowadays? No.
She finished fastening her shoes and straightened, pushed at the hair that had fallen over her eyes. Forget his uninformed opinion. Forget him, period. She had her un-fabulous job at the insurance call centre—but it paid the bills—and she had just finished her Diploma in Natural Health. And if she chose to fill her leisure hours working on ways to help people use natural products rather than the dangerous chemicals contained in other products these days, it was nobody’s business but hers.
‘So how’s … what was her name …? Sherry?’ she asked with enough sweetness to decay several teeth as she slipped open the top button of her lab coat. ‘Will she be missing you this evening?’
His brows rose. ‘Who?’
‘The one …’ draped all over you ‘… at Stella’s engagement party. Stella
