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Her gaze slid away so it didn’t meet his. ‘Yes.’
‘You never came back.’
‘I did but...but you were otherwise engaged.’
‘Huh? I don’t get it. I was waiting for you.’ He’d checked his watch time and time again, but she still hadn’t shown up. Finally he’d asked someone if they’d seen Lizzie. They’d pointed her out on the other side of the room in conversation with a group of the most gossipy girls in Dolphin Bay. She hadn’t come near him again.
Now she met his eyes again, hers direct and shadowed with accusation. ‘You were dancing with another woman. When you’d told me all dances for the evening were reserved for me.’
He remembered the running joke they had shared—Jesse with a ‘Reserved for Lizzie’ sign on his back, Lizzie with a ‘Reserved for Jesse’ sign. The possessiveness had been in jest but he had meant it.
He frowned. ‘After the duty dances for the wedding—including with your delightful little daughter—the only woman I danced with that evening was you. Refresh my memory about the other one?’
She turned her head to the side. Her body language told him loud and clear she’d rather be anywhere else than here with him. In spite of the café and Sandy and family obligations.
‘It was nothing,’ she said, tight-lipped. ‘You had every right to dance with another woman.’
He reached out and cupped her chin to pull her back to face him. ‘Let’s get this straight. I only wanted to dance with you that night.’
For a long moment he looked deep into her eyes until she tried to wiggle away from him and he released her. ‘So describe this mystery woman to me,’ he said.
‘Black hair, tall, beautiful, wearing a red dress.’ It sounded as if the words were being dragged out of her.
He frowned.
‘You seemed very happy to be with her,’ she prompted.
Realisation dawned. ‘Red dress? It was my cousin. I was with my cousin Marie. She’d just told me she was pregnant. She and her husband had been trying for years to start a family. I was talking with her while I waited for you to come back.’
‘Oh,’ Lizzie said in a very small voice, her head bowed.
‘I wasn’t dancing with her. More like whirling her around in a dance of joy. A baby is everything she’s always wanted.’
‘I...I’m glad for her,’ Lizzie said in an even more diminished voice.
He couldn’t keep the edge of anger from his voice. ‘You thought I’d moved on to someone else? That I’d kissed you out on the balcony—in front of an audience—and then found another woman while you were out of the room for ten minutes?’
She looked up at him. ‘That’s what it seemed like from where I was standing. I’ve never felt so foolish.’
‘So why didn’t you come over and slap me on the face or whack me with your purse or do whatever jealous women do in such circumstances?’
‘I wasn’t jealous. Just...disappointed.’ Her gaze slid away again.
‘I was disappointed when you didn’t come back. When you took off to Sydney the next day without saying goodbye. When you didn’t return my phone calls.’
‘I...I...misunderstood. I’m sorry.’
She turned her back on him and walked around the countertop so it formed a physical barrier between them. When she got to the glass jars she picked one up and put it down. He noticed her hands weren’t quite steady.
Even with the counter between them, it would be easy to lean over and touch her again. Even kiss her. He fought the impulse. She so obviously didn’t want to be touched. And he didn’t want to start anything he had no intention of continuing. He wanted to clear up a misunderstanding that had festered for six months. That was all. He took a step back to further increase the distance between them.
‘I get what happened. You believed my bad publicity,’ he said.
‘Publicity? I don’t know what you mean.’ But the flickering of her eyelashes told him she probably had a fair idea of what he meant.
‘My reputation. Don’t tell me you weren’t warned about me. That I’m a player. A ladies’ man. That you’d be one of “Jesse’s girls” until I tired of you.’
How he’d grown to hate that old song from the nineteen-eighties where the singer wailed over and over that he wanted ‘Jessie’s girl’. Apparently his parents had played it at his christening party and it had followed him ever since; had become his signature song.
She flushed high on her cheeks. ‘No. Of course not.’
‘You should know—reports of my love life are greatly exaggerated.’
He used to get a kick out of his reputation for being a guaranteed girl magnet—what free-wheeling guy in his teens and early twenties wouldn’t?—though he’d never taken it seriously. But now, as thirty loomed, he was well and truly over living up to the Jesse legend. A legend that had always been more urban myth than fact.
But he’d done nothing to dispel it. In fact it had been a convenient shield against ever having to explain why he’d closed his heart off against a committed relationship. Why he dated fun-for-now, unchallenging girls and always stayed in control of where the relationship went.
Camilla’s words haunted him. ‘You won’t miss me for a minute; a guy as good-looking as you can get any woman you want just by snapping your fingers—there’ll always be another one waiting in line.’ It wasn’t true, as she herself had proven. He had wanted her. Badly. And she had gutted and filleted his heart as surely as his father did the fish he caught. He would never expose himself to that kind of pain again.
‘I didn’t need to be warned,’ Lizzie said. ‘I figured it out for myself. You and Kate Parker, Sandy’s other bridesmaid, were the talk of the wedding. How you’d come back from your travels and hooked up with her. How Kate wouldn’t have more luck with getting you to commit than any other of the long line of girlfriends before her.’
As he’d suspected, the Dolphin Bay gossips had struck again. Didn’t the women in this town have anything better to do with their time? Though for all their poking their noses into other people’s business, they’d never come close to ferreting out the reasons why he’d stayed so resolutely single.
Kate had been his childhood friend. There’d been a long-standing joke between their families that if they hadn’t met anyone else by the time they were aged thirty they’d settle down with each other.
‘Not true. We kissed. Once. To see if there was anything more than friendship between us. There wasn’t. We were just friends. Still are friends.’
Lizzie shrugged. ‘I realised that. I soon sussed out she only had eyes for the other groomsman, your friend Sam Lancaster.’
‘True. It seemed like one minute Kate was organising Ben and Sandy’s wedding, the next minute she was planning her own.’
‘I heard they eloped and got married at some fabulous Indian palace hotel.’
‘You heard right. I was Sam’s best man. It turned out great for them,’ he said.
He was really happy for his old friends. But if he was honest with himself, there had been an awkward moment when Kate had made it very clear the kiss had been a disaster for her. Coming on top of what had happened with Camilla it had struck a serious blow to his male pride. By the time of the wedding he’d been in a real funk, questioning things about himself he’d never before had cause to question.
Meeting Lizzie had done a lot to help soothe his bruised ego—until she’d walked away without a word of explanation.
But that had been six months ago. He’d moved on. Now his circumstances were very different. He’d come to a real turning point in his career and the path he chose was crucial to his future. The recent encounter with Camilla had made him realise it could be time to move on from his work with the charity. He’d told his boss there was a good chance he wouldn’t return after his shoulder healed. He would not turn his back on it completely but would remain involved as a volunteer and as a fund-raiser.
A new direction had opened with the offer of a fast-track job with a multinational construction company based in Houston, Texas. It would be a challenging, demanding role in a ruthlessly competitive commercial environment. But living in the United States would mean he’d rarely make it home to Dolphin Bay.
As far as Lizzie went, he just wanted to clear up a misunderstanding that had left her resentful of him and him disappointed in her. They’d missed their chance to be any kind of couple, even the most casual. Once the misunderstanding was sorted, they could work together without awkwardness. After all, she was part of the family now and would always be around. They had to come to some sort of mutual good terms.
‘Weddings have a lot to answer for,’ she said. ‘All that romance and emotion floating around makes people do things they really shouldn’t. Fool around when they shouldn’t. Behave in ways they later regret.’
‘Just for the record, I wasn’t just fooling around with you at the wedding,’ he said.
She flushed redder. ‘Maybe I was just fooling around with you.’
‘Maybe you were.’
‘Maybe I’m the player,’ she said. There was a return of that teasing spirit he’d liked so much, a spark that warmed her cool grey eyes. He found himself wanting her to smile.
Jesse only vaguely remembered Lizzie from her first visit to Dolphin Bay. She’d been sixteen, beanpole-thin and flat-chested. He’d been sixteen, too. But testosterone had well and truly kicked in and he’d considered himself a man.
He wasn’t ashamed to admit he hadn’t found her attractive then. He’d been a typical teenage boy who’d looked to the more obvious.
That summer, his brother Ben had been busy falling in love with Sandy. Jesse had been busy trying to decide between three curvaceous older girls who’d made their interest in him more than clear. He hadn’t chosen any of them. Even then he hadn’t valued what came to him too easily.
When he’d met Lizzie again, more than twelve years later, he’d been knocked over at the woman she’d become. Elegant; sensual without being blatantly sexy; classy. Now she wore simple narrow-legged jeans and a plain white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Her hair was tied back off her face in a plait. She looked sensational without even trying.
‘Are you a player?’ he asked. ‘I somehow doubt that.’
Her eyes dimmed and it was as if that hint of party-girl Lizzie had been extinguished again. ‘No. I’m a divorced single mum with a social life on hold indefinitely. I’m here to work hard at making this café a success and to devote myself to Amy.’
‘I get that,’ he said. ‘Being a lone parent must be one of the toughest gigs around.’
‘Tougher than I could have imagined,’ she said. ‘But it’s worth it. Amy is the best thing that ever happened to me.’
‘You were young when you had her.’
‘Becoming a mother at age twenty-three wasn’t part of my game plan, I can assure you. But I don’t regret it even for a second.’
He frowned. ‘Where is Amy? Didn’t she drive down with you from Sydney?’
Lizzie’s daughter was a cute kid; she’d been the flower girl at the wedding and charmed everyone. He’d been sorry he hadn’t had the chance to say goodbye to her too.
‘She’s spending the school vacation in France with her father and his parents. They love her and want her to grow up French. That’s another reason I have to make a success of this café. Philippe would like sole custody and is just waiting for me to fail.’
Sandy had told Jesse a bit of Lizzie’s background. The domineering father. The early marriage. The break-up with the French husband. She hadn’t had it easy. Just as well nothing more had happened with them at the wedding. He wouldn’t want to have added to her burden of hurt. He knew what that felt like.
‘You’ll have a lot of support here,’ he said. ‘Sandy’s a Morgan now and the Morgans look after their own.’
‘I know that. And I’m grateful. But I’ll still have to work, work, work.’ She took a deep breath, looked directly up at him. ‘I’m truly sorry I misread the situation with your cousin. But what happened between us at the wedding can’t happen again; you know that, don’t you?’
Relief flooded through him that she had no expectations of him. She was lovely, quite possibly the loveliest woman he knew. But right now he didn’t want to date anyone either. Not seriously. And Lizzie was the type of person who would expect serious.
‘Lizzie, I—’ he started, but she spoke over him.
‘I told you my social life is on hold. That means no dating. Not you. Not anyone.’
‘I get that,’ he said.
His life was so far removed from Lizzie’s. His job took him to all the points of the earth for extended periods of time. If he ever committed to a woman it would have to be someone without ties. Camilla would have been ideal—a freelance photojournalist with no kids, feisty, independent. But what had happened with Camilla had soured him against getting close to her type of woman.
‘Good,’ Lizzie said, rather more vehemently than his ego would have liked.
‘I hope you can remember what we had at the wedding as no-strings fun that I certainly don’t regret,’ he said.
She nodded. He didn’t know whether he should be insulted, the way she was so eager to agree.
‘But it—’ he started to say.
‘Can’t happen again,’ she joined in so they chorused the words.
He extended his hand to her over the counter. ‘Friends?’
She hesitated and didn’t take his hand. ‘I’m not sure about “friends”—we hardly know each other. I don’t call someone a friend lightly.’
He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. ‘Yep.’
Her eyes widened at his abrupt reply. ‘I don’t mean to be rude,’ she said. ‘Just honest about what I feel.’
Yeah. She was. But her honesty had a sharp edge. All in all, it made him wonder why he’d want to be friends with her anyway. Especially when he knew she was off-limits to anything more than friendship. It would be difficult to be ‘just friends’ with someone he found so attractive. That two-hour limit he’d set himself on the time he spent with her might just be two hours too much.
‘So “just acquaintances” or “just strangers stuck with each other’s company” might be more to the point?’ he said.
She gasped. ‘That sounds dreadful, doesn’t it?’ Then she disarmed him with a smile—the kind of open, appealing smile that had drawn him to her in the first place. ‘Too honest, even for me. After all, we can try to be friends, can’t we?’
‘We can try to be friends,’ he agreed. Two hours at a time. Any more time than that with her each day and he might find himself wanting more than either of them was prepared to give. And that was dangerous.
‘Okay,’ she said, this time taking his hand in hers in a firm grip, shaking it and letting it go after the minimum contact required to seal the deal.
CHAPTER FOUR (#ud56d94bd-93ea-5ea5-9819-c5e5228162a2)
LIZZIE LEANED BACK from the last of the artworks they’d rewrapped to send back to the artist, kneading with fisted hands the small of her back where it ached. ‘That’s it,’ she said. ‘All done, thank goodness. That was harder work than I’d thought it would be.’
‘But worth it,’ said Jesse from beside her.
‘Absolutely worth it. The paintings add to the atmosphere of the café like nothing else could. I hope the artists come in so I can thank them with a coffee.’
But Lizzie felt exhausted. Not just from the effort of unpacking, holding the paintings up against the wall and then repacking the unwanted pictures. But from the strain of working alongside Jesse.
In theory, learning to be ‘just friends’ with him should have been easy. He was personable, smart, and seemed determined to put their history behind them. Gentlemanly, too—in spite of his shoulder injury he insisted on doing any heavy lifting.
Trouble was, she found it impossible to relax around him. She had to consider every word before she uttered it, which made her sound stilted and awkward. The odd uncharacteristic nervous giggle kept bubbling into her conversation.
Could you ever be just friends with a man you’d kissed, wanted, cried over? Especially when that man was so heart-stoppingly attractive. Could you pretend that time together had never happened?
She would have to try.
If it were up to her, she would choose never to see Jesse Morgan again. Even though they’d cleared up the misunderstanding about his cousin, it was hard to be around someone she’d fancied, kissed, liked...when nothing would—or could—ever happen between them. But with the family situation being the way it was, she had to make a real effort to nurture a friendship with him—be pals, buddies, good mates. Future family occasions could be incredibly awkward if she didn’t.
Right now, Jesse stood beside her as they both surveyed the arrangement of paintings on the wall. He was not so close that their shoulders were in danger of nudging but close enough so she was aware of his scent, an intoxicating blend of spicy sandalwood and fresh male sweat. It was too close. Being anywhere within touching distance of Jesse Morgan was too close. Memories of how wonderful it had felt to be in his arms were resurfacing.
She leaned forward to straighten the small painting of the manta rays and used the movement to edge away, hoping he didn’t notice.
