CHAPTER FIFTEEN

‘YOU’RE kidding.’ Emma was so stunned she couldn’t stop the rudeness of her question.

She watched as for once Jake’s was the face to colour. ‘Actually for once in my life I’m not joking.’

She glanced up to the ceiling thinking that the roar she could hear was some freak hailstorm. No, it was just her pulse crazily loud, irregular and fast.

He was talking again, just as fast as her heartbeat and she strained to hear every word. ‘I’m sorry, Emma. I’m sorry I started this out as just a fling; I’m sorry I took photos of your paintings; I’m sorry I broke your trust.’

‘You didn’t break my trust, Jake. I’ve always trusted you. And I know you thought you were doing me a favour.’

‘I just wanted to help you because I thought I could and because I wanted you to be happy.’

‘Because you care.’ Statement not question. But she still couldn’t believe the way in which he cared.

‘I care. A lot. More than a lot. But I don’t care what you do, how much you earn, how successful or otherwise you might be. I’ll still love you. I’ll still be here for you. I’ll still support you no matter what. It’s you I love, Emma, you for being you. You don’t have to do anything other than be yourself for me. And I know that wanting to please people, wanting to achieve things for them is part of you, but you don’t need to do that for me. OK?’ He took a breath and continued. ‘I don’t want you showing your paintings if you don’t want to—not because I thought you should or Cathy or Margaret or anyone else. You should only do it if you want to.’

‘It is because I want to, Jake. I do. It started as a secret because I was scared of what Dad would say—as a kid, his approval meant everything. Then the fact it was secret became habit. And I felt that people would expect the best from me. I became scared that if I didn’t live up to that I’d be rejected. Stupid, huh?’

‘No.’ A faint smile touched his face. ‘I’m glad you held it to yourself for so long. I’m glad it was me that you shared it with.’

She wasn’t at all sure they were still talking about her painting.

‘So what do you say, Emma? Fancy…’He paused, his tension audible to both of them. He tried again. ‘Fancy spending a little more time with me, go on a few dates. Give me a chance?’

‘You don’t need a chance.’ She couldn’t lift her voice higher than a whisper and he moved closer to hear her. Not close enough. Her body and soul were screaming out to touch him but she couldn’t get the words out of her damn mouth. ‘Jake…’ She moved towards him.

His face lit up.

‘Jake?’ Sienna’s voice rang out, and she appeared in the doorway of the garage a split-second later. ‘Jake, I need you to lift the crate of…’

Emma pulled back, sweeping her raised hand through her own hair instead of reaching for Jake as she’d intended.

‘You’re going to have to do it yourself, Sienna. I’m busy right now.’ Emma had never heard such an abrupt tone from him. Certainly never when talking to Sienna. He grabbed Emma’s hand and led her out to the staircase

Emma turned her head to see Sienna standing, mouth open, staring after them. Hot colour flooded into her cheeks as Sienna’s burst of laugher rang in her ears.

She matched him step for step as he bounded up the stairs. He let her hand go as he opened the door and she walked ahead into the middle of the room, looking about, but supremely conscious of him shutting and locking the door. Superficially she took in the divan against the wall, the beer fridge, kettle and toaster. An ancient stereo system sat on the ground with a box overflowing with CDs next to it.

The magic of the previous moment had gone and she was so thrown she didn’t know if she’d dreamt it. She covered her confusion with a little laugh. ‘This is your “man cave”.’

His fingers roughed his hair. ‘Yeah, I guess. Once I started working I used to sleep here sometimes—if I was home late and didn’t want to wake the others in the house.’

‘Did you do a lot of entertaining here?’ She couldn’t help asking.

He flashed a grin. ‘Not nearly as much as you think.’ She threw him a sceptical look.

‘Really. I was talking it up earlier.’

‘And now you’re talking it down to make me feel better.’

He fixed on her. ‘Does it bother you?’

‘I’m human, of course it bothers me.’

‘Good, because the thought of you with someone else makes me so mad I could just…’ He stopped and laughed.

‘But I’m so not your type!’ She quickly walked away, wincing at her needy outburst. The window she stood at looked down on Jake’s pool and over the fence to her parents’ backyard—the manicured lawn and formal flower beds, the marquee set up for the annual bash.

He followed her, stopped to stand right behind her and her excitement level ratcheted up a notch. Soon. But they needed to talk. They hadn’t been talking nearly enough and that was part of the problem.

‘There is no “type” for me, Emma. There is only you.’ He turned her towards him. ‘Until now, I could take or leave my girlfriends. Fun. Good friends, even. But nothing that serious. It’s so different with you. I can’t leave you, Emma. I can’t ever leave you. You make my life.’

She stared into his eyes, saw the honesty shining out and told him her own secret. ‘I had such a crush on you.’

‘No-o-o.’ His hands dropped to his sides.

‘Uh-huh.’ She laughed at his shocked expression. It emboldened her to be completely blunt. ‘For years. Ever since that day in the park when you were so nice to me.’

‘Nice?’ He stared, lost in the memory. ‘I put my arm around you to give you a hug like I would Sienna and suddenly I was on fire. I should have known then that there was something special about you. About us.’ His chest rose and fell as he took a deep breath. ‘You were into me?’

‘I’ve always been into you. So cool, so funny, so good-looking. You listened to me, Jake. No one had listened to me like that.’

‘Yeah, but I stopped, didn’t I? I stopped listening right when I should have been paying the most attention.’

‘You were just wanting to help me. I know that. And you were right. Sharing things is fun. Sharing things with the people you care about is fun.’

‘I like sharing things with you, Emma.’

She smiled, the sauce bubbling forth. ‘I like sharing me with you, Jake.’ She batted her lashes.

He chuckled and his hands were on her arms again, still rubbing, but drawing her closer, millimetre by millimetre until she was close enough for him to rest his forehead on hers. ‘I’ve been thinking of you every moment, Emma. Waking, sleeping. Thinking of you.’ He sighed and lifted his head, looking into her eyes with such a sweet intensity and she felt a crazy calm over her, despite the desire burning inside. It was all going to be OK. ‘I saw you standing in front of me in that bar and you’re all grown-up and we’re out of this town and you had this look in your eye and I thought, Why not? A fun moment with someone a little different.’

Confidence sent the blood flowing in her veins. ‘But it wasn’t.’

‘Nuh-uh.’ He shook his head and stroked the tip of his finger across her lips. ‘That one kiss wasn’t nearly enough. Especially when I found out it was only for show. I wanted all of you all to myself.’

She chased the path of his finger with her tongue and as a reward he stepped even closer.

‘I figured I could get close to you, at least fool around just a little. I thought the more I touched, the less I’d want to.’ He grunted. ‘Wrong. Totally wrong.’

She took the final step closer, bringing them into complete contact. ‘You set up our game.’

His face split into that gorgeous grin that he got when he was having wicked thoughts. ‘Good idea, wasn’t it? Play at being lovers. But it backfired.’

She raised an eyebrow.

‘I couldn’t control it, could I? For me it got very serious, very quickly and I knew I was in big trouble.’ He looked apologetic. ‘I wasn’t planning on serious, Emma. I thought it would burn out. But instead all I wanted was to be with you. I wanted to make you happy. And I thought I could help arrange that.’ His eyes narrowed in his frown.

‘Being happy isn’t something you can control for me, Jake. That’s something I have to take care of myself. And I’m working on it. I’ve redirected my career. I’ve opened up about my painting. There was only one thing I had yet to do.’

‘What’s that?’

‘I’m going to Auckland. Ticket’s booked for next week.’

She felt his stillness. ‘What are you going there for?’

‘You.’ She took his face in her hands. ‘I wanted more of you. Was coming on the chance you might want more too.’ She shrugged sheepishly.

‘Sure.’ He slid his hands down her back. ‘I want more.’

She slid her hands through his hair, curling her fingers into the thick locks. ‘No more games, then?’

‘The only game I’m planning on playing in the future is Scrabble.’

‘Scrabble?’ She laughed, tilting her chin at him. ‘Jake, you are a closet geek.’

‘Yeah, well, you’re a closet saucy minx so I guess that makes us even.’

She let the minx out of the bag. ‘You’re still going to play with me, though, aren’t you?’

He lifted the hem of her tee shirt and stroked his palms down her bare skin, pressing her against him. She practically purred as he unzipped her skirt.

‘I’ve just rolled the dice.’

Their eyes met. Every cell in her body in tune, ready. It was the moment she’d been waiting for since she’d seen him on her father’s deck.

Finally he lowered his mouth to her upturned one.

Ignition.

He kissed her. She kissed him. Beautiful, rejoicing, tender, and she revelled in his touch. He stroked, smoothed, and slid his fingers, hands and body over her skin.

And he was going too damn slow.

‘Jake, please hurry.’

‘Why, you got somewhere to be? You got a plane to catch?’

She choked, the gurgle of laughter caught on a sob of desire.

He kissed her, and kissed her again. ‘It’s all going to happen, honey.’

But it still wasn’t enough and the only way to get it was to steal the march. Catching him by surprise, she pushed him onto the divan, stripping him of his tee shirt—at least managing to get it over his head and down as far as his elbows as he lifted his arms up high for her.

‘I want you, Jake Rendel.’ She kissed him, bruising her lips as she passionately pressed them against his hard muscles. Moving over his chest and up his neck to his jaw. ‘Get undressed, dammit.’

Her urgency was infectious. He shrugged his arms free of the tee, lifted her so he could ditch his jeans as fast as was humanly possible. Then he leaned over her, his body pressing length to length. She couldn’t think of anything else. Nothing mattered any more. All she wanted was him, in her, all the way. Right now.

‘Do me, Jake.’ She arched up to him, half begging, half teasing. ‘Do me.’

Wicked delight radiated from him. ‘Emma, I’m not going to make it if you talk like that.’

‘I’m not afraid to ask for what I want any more, Jake. And I want you.’

She pushed up, inviting him, and he took his place with a fierce thrust.

‘You’ve got me.’

And then the dynamic changed completely—frivolity vanishing. She cried out, long and loud as he filled her. He’d plunged deep only a couple of times when it hit, the rapturous waves beating over her. She swept her arms down him as her body locked in ecstasy, screamed out the pleasure. It was the fastest road to orgasm she’d ever been on. She panted, but wasn’t given the chance to recover as he kept up the stroke, building her up again. She opened her eyes to watch his answer.

But he didn’t come with her. Instead he continued to hold back, working to rouse her again, intensely focussed on her, all traces of humour gone. ‘Everything is so raw when I’m with you. You leave my heart so vulnerable. It scares me.’

‘Jake.’ She knew he heard the love in her voice and then she told him anyway as the sensations crested. ‘I love you.’

‘Say it again.’

She did and he closed his eyes, opening them again to reveal painful honesty. ‘This feels so right. I never thought anything would be right again.’

‘It’s OK, Jake.’

‘I really thought I’d lost you.’

She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight to her. ‘You could never lose me. I’ve always been here. We just didn’t know it.’ And she moved with him, started to drive him, made it faster, harder, whispering to him, voicing her excitement and exciting him with it. But still he held back, his body an instrument of pleasure for her. It wasn’t until she’d buckled yet again that he finally spent his love into her.

‘Do me a favour.’

‘Mmm.’ Deliriously happy, giddy from multiple orgasms, curled in his arms, she couldn’t move.

‘Whatever I ask, you have to say yes.’

She smiled. ‘I am not having a threesome.’

‘Just say yes, Emma. It’s not hard.’

She reached behind her. ‘Yes, it is.’

‘I’m not kidding.’ The tension in his voice caught her. She heard his drawn breath. ‘Just say yes.’

She turned her head and looked at him. ‘You’re serious.’ She saw his unsmiling face, unusually strained. ‘Jake?’

‘Marry me.’

She blinked, the buzz in her ears blocking her comprehension. She whispered. ‘I’m sorry, I’m going to have to get you to say that again.’

‘Marry me. Please.’

She blinked again. And again—rapidly as the stinging sheen of tears hampered her vision. One spilt over and his hands came to frame her face.

‘I really need to hear it, Em.’

She took in a shaky breath and mentally debated her answer. ‘Sure.’ She managed to say it smoothly and then beamed at him through the twin rivers tripping down her cheeks. ‘Yes. I sure will marry you.’

He shouted and wrapped his arms around her, rolling over and taking her with him so she lay on top of him. Her tears spilt onto his chest.

‘No more.’ He kissed them away from her eyes. ‘No more.’

She buried her face in his neck, breathing in his warm masculinity—the faint stubble of his jaw pressing on her forehead. She’d never imagined such happiness and she shut her eyes fast in case it was a dream—she never wanted to wake from it.

His hand left her back and she felt him reaching for something.

‘Emma.’

She had to open her eyes then. He’d pulled a box out of the pocket of his jeans.

‘I was going to put it in your art box but I chickened out.’ He handed it to her, his expression solemn.

A ring box. Her eyes widened. ‘Jake.’ Propped up on her elbows, her naked body flowing over his—it wasn’t how she’d ever imagined she’d receive a wedding proposal, much less an engagement ring. Her heart thundered as she lifted the lid. Her eyes widened more.

‘This is, um…’ She stared at the contents. A chunky plastic flower ring, the kind you’d get in the two-dollar store for a four-year-old niece. Bright yellow with white petals on a garish blue circle. Adjustable size and everything. She looked up to see him grinning broadly. He winked.

‘I want you to come with me to choose your proper ring—you know, we decide things together from now on. But I wanted to have something for the moment.’

He took it out of the box and she held out her hand, laughter lighting between them. ‘You want me on my knees?’

‘Of course. I want you every which way.’

He snorted as he slid the toy ring down her finger. ‘Good thing you have such small hands.’

‘Where’d you get it? Christmas cracker?’

He pretended to look wounded.

She fluttered her fingers, admiringly. ‘I’ll treasure it for ever.’ She started to giggle.

‘What’s so funny?’

‘Can you imagine Sienna and Lucy as bridesmaids?’

‘Hell.’ He shuddered. ‘You don’t think we should elope?’

‘What? And deny your mum the pleasure of seeing her fine son get married? I’d never do it to her. Besides, I want the meringue.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘I’m going to have to wear fake tan.’

‘Honey, you could wear a sack and you’ll still look beautiful to me.’

She cracked up. ‘Oh, Jake, you smooth talker.’ She ruffled his hair and planted a kiss on the underside of his chin. ‘I am going to like being married to you.’

He tipped his head down and suavely replied. ‘And I’m going to love being married to you.’

Their smiles melted in the kiss and she felt the flick of fire again, but on hearing the car doors slamming on the street below she lifted her head. ‘I’m going to have to go.’ The party would be warming up and she needed to be there, taking her place as the dutiful daughter.

‘You don’t think you’re going without me, do you?’

‘You never come to this party.’

‘As far as I’m concerned it’s our engagement party. I’m coming. Besides, your old man isn’t that bad.’

They pulled their clothes back on, hindered by the lingering kisses in between each item, the slide of his body into hers.

As they dressed for the second time a question occurred to her. ‘What were you going to do if I wasn’t here?’

‘Send you the art box by courier and hope you saw the message.’

‘The picture?’

He shook his head. ‘There’s a less subtle message carved on the bottom.’

‘What is it?’

He just grinned. She flew down the stairs to where the box still sat on the bench in the garage. She tipped it upside down to see underneath and softened in delight. She leaned back, knowing he would be behind her. She lifted her arm around his neck as he nuzzled hers.

Happiness, relief and plain old-fashioned lust glowed.

The box sat, forgotten for the moment, with the little carving in the top left hand corner showing for all the world to see:

J.R. E.D.