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“She thought I was Australian,” Dean teased, grinning adoringly at her. “I had to educate her about the difference between Kiwis and Aussies.”
“It took him all night.” Callie swept him a flirtatious look.
“Slow learner.” Dean shook his head, returning the look.
Jenna’s smile felt set in concrete. She didn’t think the two of them would have noticed if everyone else in the room had disappeared in a puff of smoke.
Marcus laid a hand lightly on Jenna’s shoulder. “Dad says you haven’t seen his latest acquisition,” he said. “He wants me to show it to you.”
Gratefully she followed Marcus to the back lawn, where a shade house was tucked into a corner screened by pink-flowered manuka shrubs. Mr. Crossan was a keen amateur orchid grower, and when Marcus ushered her into the shade house, they were surrounded by pots and hanging baskets of the exotic, distinctive flowers.
The air was cool here, and the bark chips that covered the ground muffled their footsteps. A damp rich smell pervaded the glassed-in area.
Jenna walked along the narrow space between the tiered benches holding rows of orchids, many of them smothered in blossom. Delicate, spidery varieties and large opulent ones were ranged along both sides, the flowers spilling over their pots, some almost to the ground. “Which one are we looking at?”
“The pink one over here.” He guided her to it with a hand lightly on her waist and stood behind her as she studied the pale, frilled blooms, flushed with gold at the throat.
Tentatively she touched a fingertip to a delicate petal. “It’s very pretty.”
“It’s called Puppy Love,” Marcus told her, slanting her a rather dry sideways glance. “Personally I prefer the more sophisticated varieties.”
Staring down at the plant, Jenna blinked away tears. Puppy Love. A fragile flower. And though orchids lasted longer than other flowers, there came a time when they too withered away and died.
She turned away from it, and Marcus moved to let her pass him, returning along the row. “We needn’t hurry back.” He strolled after her, hands in his pockets. “No one will miss us for a while.”
No one would miss Jenna. Self-pity threatened to overwhelm her. But they’d miss Marcus for sure. Marcus was a dominant figure in any gathering, not only because of his height. There was a quiet air of confidence and authority about him that even his family acknowledged.
Maybe it came from being the eldest. Jane was nearly his own age, but having two much younger, mischievous siblings might have given him an exaggerated sense of responsibility.
She halted before a plant exploding with extravagant bronze blooms. They blurred before her eyes, and she bit down fiercely on her lower lip, squeezing her eyes shut, taking a long, deep breath.
Marcus said, “One of Dad’s prizewinners. Magnificent, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Her voice was husky, but his casual tone steadied her. “What…what’s it called, do you know?”
“The name should be on a marker in the pot.” Marcus leaned across to part some spiky leaves, and his sleeve brushed her arm. “Dark Delight.”
As he drew back he slanted her a swift glance, and his hand briefly rested on the skin of her arm, a comforting caress. His breath stirring her hair, he said, “It will get better, you know. Hard to believe right now, maybe, but I promise you it’s true.”
She gripped the edge of the bench in front of her. “I don’t want your sympathy, Marcus.” It would be too easy to turn and let him take her in his strong arms and hold her while she wept out her bewilderment and heartache. She had to get through this day without cracking, in order to keep her pride, at least, intact.
“Sorry.” As far as the space would allow, he moved away from her.
“I didn’t mean to seem ungrateful.”
“I’m not looking for gratitude, Jenna.”
“You’ve been awfully kind.” She blinked the tears away and managed to face him.
A strange expression crossed his hard features, almost as if he shared her pain. He lifted a hand, and his thumb wiped an escaped salty droplet from her cheek. “It will soon be over.” His thumb strayed to her abused lower lip, where she had bitten into it. Unexpectedly he dipped his head and pressed his firm mouth gently to hers.
Chapter Three
It lasted only a second, but a faint warmth seeped into her cold heart, and when he stepped back, saying, “Can you stand to go back inside?” she nodded, feeling somehow stronger, braced for the fray.
Jenna helped Katie and her mother rustle up an impromptu meal. Some visitors had drifted away, but there was quite a crowd around the big table in the spacious dining room, and Jenna’s lack of conversation went unnoticed. Marcus took a seat next to her, shielding her from Callie and Dean on his other side.
After the dishes were disposed of, Marcus found Jenna hanging up a tea towel in the kitchen, carefully straightening the edges. “Anytime you want,” he said, “we can go.”
Thankfully she took the hint. Steeling herself, she parried Katie’s suspicious surprise that she’d decided to go home after all, using the excuse that this was a family occasion, and repeated her congratulations to Dean and Callie.
Within minutes she was releasing a sigh of relief as she fastened her safety belt.
Marcus started the car and edged out of the driveway. “You can let go now, if you want,” he said.
Cry, she supposed he meant.
Although she’d been fighting tears for hours, now the urge to weep had left her altogether. She sat dry-eyed and silent beside Marcus all the way back to the city. The sunlight dancing on the water of the west harbor as they sped alongside it seemed to mock her bleak mood of despair.
Leaving the high speed zone, Marcus glanced at her as he eased off the accelerator. “Will you be all right on your own?”
“I won’t slit my wrists,” she promised.
He smiled. “I know you wouldn’t. If you’d rather come to my place, I have a spare room.”
She shook her head. “Thanks, but no. You’ve been great, Marcus.”
“It doesn’t cost me anything, and much as I’d like to wring his neck, I couldn’t allow Dean’s homecoming to turn into a disaster.”
He might have been sorry for her, but his main concern was his family. Because she was close to his brother and sister, Jenna too had always come under his protection, but she guessed that if she threatened their happiness he’d sacrifice her without a second thought.
Which was right and natural. Only it didn’t make her feel any better.
Marcus said, “It’s a pity your mother’s so far away.”
For the past three years Jenna’s mother had been living in Invercargill, at the other end of the country, with her second husband. “I’m too old to run to my mother,” Jenna said.
She’d learned early in life that running to her mother didn’t solve anything. Karen Harper loved her daughter, but at times her own problems had been too overwhelming for her to cope with Jenna’s, as well.
Marcus cast her a glance. “If you do need someone to run to,” he offered, “I’ll be around.”
She managed a pale smile. “Thanks, but I don’t think so.”
“Independent little cuss, aren’t you?”
“I’ve always tried to be.”
“Had to be, I suppose. It must have been tough, losing your father so early.”
“I never really knew him—I only have a few hazy memories. It was hard on my mother, though. I’m glad she’s found someone else.”
“We promised to keep an eye on you, you know, when she went to live down south.”
Jenna had been just short of twenty then, still at university and living in a students’ hall. “I don’t think she meant me to be a lifelong burden on your family.”
He turned the car into the quiet suburban street where she and Katie lived. “You’re not a burden, Jenna. You’re a friend. And that’s going to make things difficult for you over the next few months, perhaps. You won’t confide in Katie, will you?”
She wasn’t sure if it was a question or a disguised warning. “No.” It was going to be difficult enough for Katie, adjusting to a stranger having a claim on her twin. Knowing that her closest friend carried a torch for him would add extra stress.
“Here you are.” The car stopped outside the building. “I’ll come in with you.”
“You don’t need to—”
He ignored that, and it was just as well. When she opened the door of the flat they were greeted by disaster. Water was dripping from the ceiling and running down the walls, spreading a huge dark stain across the carpet.
“Hell!” Marcus surveyed the mess. “It’s either a burst pipe or someone’s left a tap running in the flat above you.”
It was hours before it was all sorted. The upstairs owners—away for the weekend—were tracked down, a key located, the forgotten tap turned off. And then came the cleanup.
Marcus stayed despite Jenna’s protest. He made phone calls, shifted furniture, helped her mop up water, and tracked down a carpet-cleaning firm who sent a couple of men who moved more furniture and set huge electric fans about the place to dry out the carpets they’d lifted and folded back.
Over the roar of the motors Marcus said, “Well, that settles it. You’ll have to come to my place after all.”
“I don’t know if—”
“You can’t stay here,” he said. “Is all you need in this bag?” He lifted the tote that she’d previously put essentials into, assuming that she would stay the night at the Crossans’.
“I’ll just change my clothes,” she said, capitulating. Her cotton trousers and shirt were wet and grubby. “I won’t be long.”
One thing about the past few hours, she’d scarcely had a chance to think about Dean and his bride-to-be.
Marcus’s apartment was a direct contrast to the cheery muddle Jenna and Katie lived in. The main room was large and airy, the sofas long and luxurious and precisely aligned about a solid rimu coffee table that held one elegantly formed pottery dish. Theirs was invariably cluttered with magazines, paperback books left open and facedown, junk mail, the TV remote control, probably an opened snack food bag and quite likely a hair dryer and bottles of nail polish.
Marcus’s books and magazines were arrayed on shelves, probably in alphabetical order, Jenna thought, and there wasn’t a sign of clutter.
The spare room he ushered Jenna into was equally sparse and neat. “The bed’s made up.” He placed her bag on the end of it. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll give Katie a ring to let her know you’re here and break the bad news about your flat.”
She unzipped the bag, shook out the skirt and top she’d packed, and hung them in the empty wardrobe to get the creases out.
Shutting the door, she caught her reflection in the mirror on the outside. Her face looked lifeless, her mouth pale and tremulous. Rummaging in the bag, she brought out a lipstick and swept a little color over her lips, then rubbed at her cheekbones with her knuckles. At least she could make an effort not to look like a Victorian maiden about to go into a decline.
In the living room, Marcus was replacing the receiver on the phone. “I’ll have a shower and get out of these clothes.” He still looked remarkably well groomed, despite the wet patches and dirty splashes on his shirt and trousers. “Are you hungry?”
She hadn’t thought about eating. Marcus was probably starved. “I could cook something while you’re in the shower, if you have anything…”
“I’ll take you up on that. Raid the freezer. Use whatever you want.”
Forty-five minutes later they sat down in the dining area to honey-glazed chicken with rice and peas. “This looks great,” Marcus told her. “And it deserves a good wine to go with it.”
He poured a New Zealand Chardonnay for them both and smiled at her as he sipped at it, but he didn’t offer a toast.
Apparently having a broken heart hadn’t destroyed Jenna’s appetite after all. She ate everything on her plate and finished the wine in her glass.
Marcus refilled it. They didn’t talk much, and when he pushed away his plate she said, “I didn’t make a dessert, but you have cheese in the fridge.”
“I’ll get it and put coffee on.” He cleared their plates and returned with a couple of cheeses and some crackers on a ceramic square. “Coffee coming up. Do you want more wine?”
“Why not? I’m not going anywhere.”
Marcus filled her glass again, and she lifted it to her lips. She could feel the alcohol-induced flush on her cheeks.
Slicing himself a piece of cheese, Marcus shot her a quizzical look. “It’s not the end of the world, you know.”
Unaccountably irritated, she said resentfully, “I don’t need you to tell me that!”
“Okay.” He held up a hand in a gesture of truce. “Take some time to wallow in your misery. But remember there’s a life out there waiting for you.”
And she’d already wasted four years of it. “You’re right,” she said, and raised her glass. There was no point in dwelling on what might have been. “Here’s to the future,” she said resolutely.
Marcus matched her gesture, giving her a look of approval.
Jenna drained her glass. “Is there more of this?”
He hesitated, poured some for her, then emptied the remains into his own glass.
By the time they left the table, the world looked a whole lot better. Marcus vetoed her feeble effort to deal with the dishes, and when she yawned, he said, “You’ve had a long day. Bedtime, I think.”
“Yes.” She blinked at him, not moving, and yawned again.
Marcus gave a low laugh and stood up, grasping her hands to haul her to her feet. The room tilted, and when he released her hands she clutched at his arms to steady herself. “Ooh! Too much wine.”
“Very possibly,” he agreed, and slid an arm about her waist to guide her. “Come on.”
In the spare room he led her to the bed, switched on the bedside lamp and stripped back the covers for her. “Can you manage now?” he asked, straightening. “You know where the bathroom is.”
“Yes. Thank you, Marcus.”
“You might not be thanking me in the morning.” He surveyed her with critical amusement and a hint of tenderness. “Good night, Jenna.”
He bent and brushed his lips over hers—a fleeting kiss of friendly comfort, but enough to upset Jenna’s already precarious balance, and as he lifted his head she swayed, so that instinctively he put his arm about her waist again to steady her.
She leaned against him, thankful for the solid feel of him, and her hands slid around his shoulders. She raised her face, found his mouth with hers and kissed him with fervor, her eyes closed, fiercely shutting out all thought. She didn’t want to think, only to feel something other than grief and humiliation.
And Marcus, perhaps understanding her need, returned her kiss beautifully, satisfyingly. He put his other arm about her and brought her closer, making her feel warm and wanted. Like a desirable woman.
But then he drew back, and his hands left her waist to curl about her arms and hold her away. Although his eyes glittered disturbingly and there was a flush on his angular cheekbones, his voice was steady. “Enough. Get some sleep, Jenna. I’ll see you in the morning.” Then he walked to the door and shut it firmly behind him.
Jenna slept surprisingly well but woke with a leaden feeling in her chest and a slight headache.
