helped out on their farm now and then,” he added.
A man and woman emerged from the house holding glasses of wine. Seeing Jase, they changed direction and walked towards the table. “Hey there!” The man grinned down at them. “Are we interrupting something?”
“No,” Samantha said before Jase could answer. “Actually I was just about to leave.” She made to get up but the man looked dismayed and laid a large, work-roughened hand on her shoulder to stay her. “Don’t move for us,” he urged. “If it’s a private conversation—”
Jase said, “If it was, you’d have just shoved your big manure-covered gumboot so far into it there’d be no hope of continuing anyway. Samantha Magnussen, this is my brother, Ben. And April, who for some unknown reason actually married this big dumb lug.”
Ben aimed a swipe in the general direction of his brother’s ear, expertly dodged by Jase, and then hooked a couple of chairs from an empty table for himself and his wife. After seeing April seated he said, “Nice to meet you, Sam,” and settled his sizeable frame into the other chair.
His grin was engaging, his gaze curious but friendly. Samantha didn’t even mind him shortening her name at first acquaintance. Despite his close-shaven cheeks and short-back-and-sides and the tie he still wore, he reminded her of a big, harmless Labrador. There was some family resemblance to Jase in his eyes and hair colouring, but there it ended.
His wife was dainty and shy and in the conversation that followed Samantha learned that April was from the Philippines, and they had met when Ben holidayed there a year or so earlier. Anyone could see they adored each other.
She felt a stab of envy. It seemed to be her day for it.
Because this was a wedding celebration? Perhaps it had something to do with her thirtieth birthday looming. But many of her contemporaries hadn’t married until well into their thirties, or weren’t going to bother at all, even if they had a partner. It was nothing to be concerned about.
In fact she’d never seriously thought about marriage, even when she’d begun thinking about Bryn in…that way. It had been just something that might happen at some vague future time.
When a pause came in the conversation April turned to Samantha. “A nice wedding,” she said in her prettily accented voice. “Rachel looks very beautiful.”
“Yes, she does.” Samantha tried to inject enthusiasm into the conventional agreement, avoiding Jase’s eyes.
“She’s a lovely girl,” April added. “Very nice.”
Samantha prepared herself to listen to a litany of Rachel’s virtues, but the other woman merely said, “I’m sure Bryn will be a wonderful husband.”
I’m sure too. Samantha didn’t say it aloud.
Ben said to his brother, “I hear you’re going to work for our new in-law. Bit of a change from your flippin’ games, staring at a ruddy screen all day. Ruin your eyes,” he warned.
“Beats staring at the back end of cow and getting covered in sh—ah—dung.”
“Huh!” Ben grunted. “About time you got yourself a proper job, you effing layabout.” He glanced at April as though she might object to the euphemism, but she merely shook her head reprovingly, trying to hide a smile.
“Okay, so I’m not a horny-handed farmer like you,” Jase said, and gave his brother a mock salute. “Backbone of the country and all that.”
“Gonna drive a truck for Bryn?” Ben inquired, grinning. “Stack timber? Do some real work for a change?”
Samantha couldn’t read the glance Jase threw her before answering. “Probably a bit of driving, for a start.”
As the brotherly banter continued, April turned to Samantha. “Take no notice of them. They’re always like this. Just because Jase didn’t want to be a farmer, and Ben can’t imagine doing anything else. But they’re very fond of each other really.”
Jase was lazily grinning at his brother’s teasing, a grin quite different from the guarded teeth-flashes he’d directed at her.
Samantha forced a smile. An only child herself, when young she had watched the sometimes rough-and-tumble interaction of her friends and their siblings with wistful envy. And here she was again, the outsider, the one who didn’t belong.
Attacked by a wave of melancholy, she stirred and stood up. “I really have to go,” she said, directing her social smile at Ben and April. “It was nice meeting you.”
To her surprise Jase rose too. Coming to her side, he touched her arm, saying, “You’re sure you’re okay to drive? I can take you home.”
They were entering the house and she said, astonished, “Why would you do that? Anyway, you must have been drinking too.”
“One glass of bubbly to toast the happy couple,” he replied. “Pearl asked for volunteers to stay cold sober and see that everyone got home safely.”
A consummate hostess, Pearl Donovan had thought of everything.
“I’m fine,” Samantha assured him. When they reached the wide, empty hallway she walked in a rigidly straight line down the centre of the carpet runner to the long hall table and retrieved her things. Stiltedly she said, “Thanks for the offer.”
The solid front door was closed. Jase went forward and laid his hand on the brass handle but didn’t open it immediately, instead surveying her with an assessing gaze.
Samantha took a determined step towards the door. He’d have to open it or move out of the way.
Instead he lifted his other hand and closed it about the nape of her neck, pulling her to him. Then as her mouth parted in startled protest he leaned towards her and she felt his warm lips on hers, a slight pressure parting them further.
Before she had even gathered her wits enough to push him away he released her.
Outrage at his daring to kiss her, and shock at the unexpected, contradictory sensations he’d aroused held her speechless. Her instinct was to slap his face, but with her hat in one hand and her bag in the other that wasn’t a real option. “What the hell—” she started to say, and stopped as she heard her voice shake.
“You don’t taste of alcohol,” Jase Moore told her calmly. He opened the door and stood waiting for her to pass through. “I guess you’ll be all right.”
Not trusting her voice, she lifted her head and gave him a stare that would have frozen the fires of hell, then swept by him without a word.
Ignorant, sexist opportunist! The man should be dressed in a bearskin and dragging a wooden club.
She negotiated the steps and followed the lights along the driveway to the temporary parking area in a close-shorn paddock. A security guard at the gate nodded to her and added the powerful beam of his torch to the lights set around the perimeter, until she located her car.
The guard waved to her and she drove slowly out of the gateway and accelerated along the road, tempted to put her foot down and express her anger by recklessly breaking the speed limit. She
