of spicy smelling dishes.
‘Apologies, everyone.’ Jake nodded to the happy couple. ‘Glad to see you’ve already started.’
Emma murmured her own apologies to Stella while Ryan spooned rice into two empty bowls and passed them across the table. ‘We wondered whether you two had decided to play hooky.’
‘We thought about it—didn’t we, Em?’ Jake grinned, enjoying her appalled expression, then turned to Ryan’s father.
Gil Clifton, a stocky man with wiry red hair and always a genuine smile, rose and shook hands. ‘Good to see you again, Jake.’
‘And you. We must get around to that tennis match.’
‘Any time. Just give us a call and drop by.’
‘I’ll do that.’
Gil’s smile faded. ‘I was sorry to hear about your father. If there’s anything I can do …’
The mention of the old man left nothing but a bitter taste in Jake’s mouth and an emptiness in his soul that he’d come to terms with years ago. As far as he was concerned Gil and Julie Clifton were the only adult support he’d ever needed. ‘Got it covered, thanks, Gil.’
He kissed Julie’s cheek. ‘How’s the mother of the groom holding up?’
‘Getting excited. And, to echo Gil’s words, if you want to drop by and chat … you’re always welcome.’
If Jake was ever to be lost for words now was that time. Ryan’s family were the only people who knew about his dysfunctional childhood, and now the whole table knew about Earl. He forced a smile. ‘Thanks.’
Emma watched Julie give Jake’s arm a sympathetic squeeze. It occurred to her how little she really knew of his background beyond the fact he was Ryan’s mate.
‘So how’s business?’ Gil asked as Jake moved to the two empty chairs.
‘Busy as usual. Evening, Bernice.’
‘Jake.’ Emma’s mother acknowledged him coolly, then turned the same stony gaze on Emma. ‘Thank you for collecting my unpunctual daughter.’
Emma reminded herself she was Teflon coated where her mother’s barbs were concerned. The others resumed their conversations while she took the empty seat that Jake pulled out beside her mother and whispered, ‘Sorry, Mum.’
‘Have to admire our Emma’s work ethic, though,’ Jake remarked as he sat down beside her. ‘It’s not easy juggling two jobs.’
‘Two jobs?’ Bernice bit off the words. ‘When one’s a waste of time, I—’
‘Mum.’ Emma counted to ten while she reached for her table napkin and smoothed it over her lap. ‘How are you enjoying the food?’
Bernice stabbed at a cherry tomato on her plate. ‘You need two proper jobs to be able to afford a dress like that.’
Jake smiled at Bernice on Emma’s other side. ‘And it’s worth every cent. She looks sensational, don’t you think? Wine, Em?’
‘No, thank you. Driving.’ She acknowledged Jake’s support with a quick nod and reached for the glass of water in front of her. She took several swallows to compose herself before she said, ‘I bought it at Second Hand Rose, Mum. That little recycle boutique on the esplanade.’
When her mother didn’t reply, Emma turned to Jake. ‘I didn’t know about your father,’ she murmured as other conversation flowed around the table. ‘I’m sorry.’
He didn’t look at her. ‘Don’t be.’ He tossed back his drink, set his glass on the table with a firm thunk and turned his attention to something Ryan was saying on his other side.
Ouch. Emma reached for the nearest dish, a mixed vegetable curry, and ladled some onto her plate. He didn’t want to talk about his father—fine. But there was a mountain of pain and anger there, and … She paused, spoon in midair. And what, Emma?
He clearly wasn’t going to talk about it. He didn’t want to talk about it—not with her at any rate—and she had no business pursuing it. It wasn’t as if they were close or anything.
A moment later Jake turned to her again. ‘I was abrupt. I shouldn’t have been.’
An apology. Of sorts. ‘It must be a tough time, no matter how you and he …’ The right words eluded her so she reached for the nearest platter instead. ‘Samosa?’
‘Thanks.’ He took one, put it on the side of his plate. ‘I’ve been thinking about you, Emma.’ He leaned ever so slightly her way, with a hint of seduction in the return of that suave tone.
She could feel the heat bleed into her cheeks. ‘I don’t—’
‘Have you considered selling your supplies over the internet?’ He broke off a piece of naan bread. ‘Could be a profitable business for you. You never know—you might be able to give up your day job eventually.’
‘I don’t want to give up my day job.’ I’m not a risk-taker. Mum depends on me financially. I can’t afford to fail.
‘I could help you with your business plan,’ he continued, as if she’d never spoken. He lowered that sexy voice. ‘You only have to ask.’
His silky words wrapped around her like a gloved hand and an exquisite shiver scuttled down her spine. She could imagine asking him … lots of things. She wondered if his sudden interest and diversionary tactics had anything to do with taking the focus off his own family problems. ‘I don’t have time to waste on the computer, and I told you already it’s not about the money.’ Business plan? What business plan?
‘Lacking computer confidence isn’t something to be embarrassed about.’
‘I’m n—’ With a roll of her eyes she decided her protest was wasted—men like Jake were always right—and topped up her curry with a broccoli floret. ‘I’m flat out supplying the local stores. I don’t need to be online.’
‘It would make it easier. And if your products are so popular why wouldn’t you want to see where they take you?’
She would—oh, she so would. Her little cottage business was her passion, but technology was so not her; she wouldn’t know where to start with a website, and her meagre income—which went straight into the household budget—didn’t allow her to gamble on such a luxury. ‘As I said, there’s no time.’
‘Maybe you need to change your priorities. Or maybe you’re afraid to take that chance?’ He eyed her astutely as he broke off more bread. ‘The offer’s always open if you change your mind.’
Was she so easy to read? An hour or so with Jake and he saw it already. Her fear of failure. Of taking that step into the unknown. He was the last person she’d be going to for help; she felt vulnerable enough around him as it was. ‘Thank you, I’ll keep it in mind.’
Over the next hour the meal was punctuated with great food, toasts to the bride and groom, speeches and recollections of fond
