a shooing gesture. ‘Don’t worry about breakfast. I can look after it. You need to start your writing.’
‘What are you? A slave-driver?’ He smiled to indicate this was an attempt at humour.
Emily merely blinked. ‘I thought you wrote madly all day and didn’t bother about meals.’
Well, yes, he had given that impression last night, hadn’t he? Truth was, he’d been writing since four a.m., and his hunger pangs had steadily mounted. For hours now he’d been fantasising about the breakfast ingredients they’d bought last night.
About to grab a frying pan, he saw, again, the red-rimmed despair in Emily’s eyes, lingering traces of her midnight tears. She would probably find cheery chatter at breakfast painful. Perhaps the kindest thing he could offer was to stay clear and hide behind his work.
‘I’ll head off then,’ he said quickly. ‘But, before I go, I’ve been thinking about your plan to leave. You know there’s no need.’
He couldn’t quite believe he’d said that. The words had jumped out of nowhere.
Emily looked surprised, too. Her eyes widened and Jude almost back-pedalled. His life over the next week would be so much easier without her here.
‘Are you sure, Jude?’
‘Of course. You’re Alex’s cousin, and he wants to make his home welcome to you. You’ve more right to be here than I have.’
Her blue eyes sparkled with a suspicious sheen. ‘That’s very kind of you.’
Jude was quite sure he hadn’t been half as kind as Alex had hoped. He cleared his throat. ‘And if you need to talk …’
To his dismay, Emily flushed brightly.
‘I don’t mean to pry,’ he added awkwardly. ‘I’m not Alex, but if there’s any way I can help …’
‘That’s sweet of you, Jude, but I couldn’t dump my problems onto you.’
He shrugged, unsure what to say. Counselling was so not his forte.
Then Emily gave a helpless flap of her hands. ‘Oh, heck. Perhaps I should tell you what happened. Just to clear the air.’
He waited, leaning against the door jamb, trying to look as if he had all the time in the world.
‘I’ve been seeing a geologist for over a year,’ she said quietly but steadily. ‘His name’s Michael and he came to Wandabilla regularly as part of his work. Exploratory prospecting—that sort of thing. And—’ she gave a hopeless little shrug ‘—he was charming and sexy and I fell in love …’
On the word love her voice cracked and she took another deep breath while her gaze was fixed on the jug of yellow daffodils on the kitchen counter.
‘This week, Michael and I were supposed to go away on holiday together. I’d taken my annual leave. Everything was planned.’
Again Emily paused, paying serious attention to the daffodils. ‘We were due to fly to Fiji, but on the night before our flight, a friend sent me a link to a Facebook page. Actually, it was a link to Michael’s wife’s Facebook page.’
Suddenly, her mouth twisted out of shape.
Jude’s throat tightened. ‘You’re absolutely sure it was him?’ he asked, keeping any hint of reproach from his voice.
Emily nodded. ‘Michael admitted it. He could hardly deny it when the photo was there on the screen. There he was with his lovely wife and two beautiful children. They live in South Australia and his name’s not even Michael. It’s Mark.’
Jude’s hands fisted, itching to land a punch on the rat’s nose.
‘So that’s my sad little story.’ Emily’s lips tilted in a travesty of a smile. ‘But please don’t worry. I’m OK. Heartbreak’s not fatal. I’ll get over it.’
‘But you must stay here as long as you need to,’ Jude said. ‘Try not to take any notice of me. Just treat this place as your own.’
‘Well, if you’re sure … thanks.’
He raised his coffee mug in a salute, and managed to smile. ‘I’ll be off to the salt mines, but I might sneak back later to make some toast.’
‘Oh, I can make toast for you.’ Suddenly she was eager, as if to make amends. ‘What would you like on it? Marmalade? A slice of bacon?’
‘Ah—bacon would be great. Thank you.’
‘Actually,’ she said with a hopeful look, ‘I make a great bacon sandwich.’
‘Sounds terrific.’
As Jude retreated to his room, he told himself that keeping his distance from Emily was, truly, his wisest option. She needed privacy to get over her heartache, and he had plenty of reasons to keep to himself.
Reasons he preferred not to think about now. But the appointment at the hospital was looming towards him like headlights on a speeding freight train. Every time he thought about the tests and the possible outcome, he was flooded by a rush of anxiety.
Shaking those thoughts aside, he opened his work in progress, and he prayed that his muse would be friendly, letting him escape into a world of fantasy.
The words did not flow.
Not the right words, at any rate. Jude’s morning commenced poorly and came to a grinding halt when Emily, still in her nightdress, appeared at his door with a tray.
‘Breakfast,’ she said softly, as if she were afraid to interrupt a genius at work.
The tray held the promised bacon sandwich, which smelled amazing, as well as a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice and another pot of coffee.
‘My ministering angel,’ he told her and she gave a self-conscious laugh.
‘Hardly.’
‘Well, in that get-up, you look like some kind of angel.’
She blushed and looked upset and Jude immediately wished he could take the words back. Too late, she was already whirling away and he found himself watching her retreating heels, flashing pink beneath the frilled hem of her nightdress.
He didn’t see her again for the rest of the day. Which was, he decided, a very good thing.
Naturally he was grateful that he’d been left in peace. Except … the afternoon’s writing fared as badly as the morning’s. Ideas wouldn’t come. Words evaded Jude and when he emerged from his room at the end of the day, he felt particularly irritable and sluggish. And mad with himself for wasting precious hours.
Usually, when he felt like this, he went for a long, brisk walk to shake out the cobwebs. This evening, however, he was distracted by enticing aromas wafting from the kitchen.
Following his nose, he discovered Emily wrapped in one of Alex’s gaudy aprons, and looking especially
