скачать книгу бесплатно
She tried to can that thought as soon as she could.
‘Nothing’s up.’
He wouldn’t challenge her. She could tell he wanted out of here asap. Only a friend would challenge her—someone who cared.
‘Liar.’ He said the word softly. The specks of gold in his eyes sparkled.
She blinked. She swallowed. ‘Is this a social call or is there something I can help you with?’ The words shot out of her, sounding harder than she’d meant them to.
The golden highlights were abruptly cut off. ‘I just wanted to let you know that your things arrived safely yesterday.’
‘I…um… Thank you.’ She moistened her lips, something she found herself doing a lot whenever Connor was around. She couldn’t help it. She only had to look at him for her mouth to go dry. He started to turn away.
‘Connor?’
He turned back, reluctance etched in the line of his shoulders, his neck, his back. Her heart slipped below the level of her belly button. Did he loathe her so much?
She moistened her lips again. His gaze narrowed in on the action and she kicked herself. If he thought she was being deliberately provocative he’d loathe her all the more.
She told herself she didn’t care what he thought.
‘I’m going to need some of my things. I only brought enough to tide me over for the weekend.’ She shrugged, apologetic.
Why on earth should she feel apologetic?
His gaze travelled over her. She wore yesterday’s trousers and Saturday’s blouse. She’d shaken them out and smoothed them the best she could, but it really hadn’t helped freshen them up any.
Pride forced her chin up. ‘There’s just one suitcase I need.’ It contained enough of the essentials to get her through. ‘I’d be grateful if I could come around this evening and collect it.’
‘What’s it look like?’
‘It’s a sturdy red leather number. Big.’
‘The one with stickers from all around the world plastered over it?’
‘That’s the one.’ She had no idea how she managed to keep her voice so determinedly cheerful. She waited for him to ask about her travels. They’d meant to travel together after art school—to marry and to travel. They’d planned to paint the world.
He didn’t ask. She reminded herself that he’d given all that up. Just like he’d given up on her.
Travel? With his responsibilities?
He’d made his choices.
It didn’t stop her heart from aching for him.
She gripped her hands behind her so she wouldn’t have to acknowledge their shaking. ‘When would it be convenient for me to call around and collect it?’
His eyes gave nothing away. ‘Have you booked into Gwen’s B&B?’
She nodded.
‘Then I’ll have it sent around.’
She read the subtext. He didn’t need to say the words out loud. It would never be convenient for her to call around. She swallowed. ‘Thank you.’
With a nod, he turned and stalked to the door. He reached out, seized the door handle…
‘Connor, one final thing…’
He swung back, impatience etched in every line of his body. A different person might’ve found it funny. ‘You and your men are welcome to use the bookshop’s kitchenette and bathroom.’ She gestured to the back of the shop. The facilities upstairs sounded basic at best at the moment—as in nonexistent. ‘I’ll leave the back door unlocked.’
He strode back and jammed a finger down on the counter between them. ‘You’ll do no such thing!’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘People don’t leave their back doors unlocked in Clara Falls any more, Jaz.’
They didn’t? She stared back at him and wondered why that felt such a loss.
‘And you, I think, have enough trouble without inviting more. Especially of that kind.’
She wanted to tell him she wasn’t having any trouble at all, only her mouth refused to form the lie.
‘Fine, take the key, then.’ She pulled the keys from her pocket and rifled though them. She hadn’t worked out what most of them were for yet.
‘Here, this one looks a likely candidate.’ She held one aloft, sidled out from behind the counter and strode all the way through the shop to the back door again. She fitted the key in the lock. It turned. She wound it off the key ring and shoved it into Connor’s hand. ‘There.’
‘I—’
‘Don’t let your dislike of me disadvantage your men. They’re working hard.’
She refused to meet his gaze, hated the way the golden lights in his eyes were shuttered against her.
‘I wasn’t going to refuse your offer, Jaz.’
That voice—measured and rhythmic, like a breeze moving through a stand of radiata pine.
‘We’ll all welcome the chance of a hot drink and the use of that microwave, believe me.’
Amazingly, he smiled. It was a small one admittedly, wiped off his face almost as soon as it appeared, but Jaz’s pulse did a little victory dance all the same.
‘Do you have a spare? You might need it.’
He held the key between fingers callused by hard work, but Jaz would’ve recognised those hands anywhere. Once upon a time she’d watched them for hours, had studied them, fascinated by the ease with which they’d moved over his sketch pad. Fascinated by the ease with which they’d moved across her body, evoking a response she’d been powerless to hide.
A response she’d never considered hiding from him.
She gulped. A spare key—he was asking her about a spare key. She rifled through the keys on the key ring. Twice, because she didn’t really see them the first time.
‘No spare,’ she finally said.
‘I’ll have one cut. I’ll get the original back to you by the close of business today.’
‘Thank you. Now, I’d better get back to the shop.’ But before she left some imp made her add, ‘And don’t forget to lock the door on your way out. I wouldn’t want to invite any trouble, you know.’
She almost swore he chuckled as she left the room.
At ten-thirty a.m., a busload of tourists descended on the bookshop demanding guidebooks and maps, and depleting her supply of panoramic postcards.
At midday, Jaz raced out to the stockroom to scour the shelves for reserves that would replenish the alarming gaps that were starting to open up in her Local Information section. She came away empty-handed.
She walked back to stare at the computer, then shook her head. Later. She’d tackle it later.
At three-thirty a blonde scrap of a thing sidled through the door, barely jangling the bell. She glanced at Jaz with autumn-tinted eyes and Jaz’s heart practically fell out of her chest.
Was this Connor’s daughter?
It had to be. She had his eyes; she had his hair. She had Faye’s heart-shaped face and delicate porcelain skin.
Melanie—such a pretty name. Such a pretty little girl.
An ache grew so big and round in Jaz’s chest that it didn’t leave room for anything else.
‘Hello,’ she managed when the little girl continued to stare at her. It wasn’t the cheery greeting she’d practised all day, more a hoarse whisper. She was glad Connor wasn’t here to hear it.
‘Hello,’ the little girl returned, edging away towards the children’s section.
Jaz let her go, too stunned to ask her if she needed help with anything. Too stunned to ask her if she was looking for her father. Too stunned for anything.
She’d known Connor had a daughter. She’d known she would eventually meet that daughter.
Her hands clenched. She’d known diddly-squat!
Physically, Melanie Reed might be all Connor and Faye, but the slope of her shoulders, the way she hung her head, reminded Jaz of…
Oh, dear Lord. Melanie Reed reminded Jaz of herself at the same age—friendless, rootless. As a young girl, she’d crept into the bookshop in the exact same fashion Melanie just had.
Her head hurt. Her neck hurt. Pain pounded at her temples. She waited for someone to come in behind Melanie—Connor, his mother perhaps.
Nothing.
She bit her lip. She stared at the door, then glanced towards the children’s section. Surely a seven-year-old shouldn’t be left unsupervised?
If she craned her neck she could just make out Melanie’s blonde curls, could see the way that fair head bent over a book. Something in the child’s posture told Jaz she wasn’t reading at all, only pretending to.
She glanced at the ceiling. Had Connor asked Melanie to wait for him in here?
She discounted that notion almost immediately. No way.
She glanced back at Melanie. She remembered how she’d felt as a ten-year-old, newly arrived in Clara Falls. She took in the defeated lines of those shoulders and found herself marching towards the children’s section. She pretended to tidy the nearby shelves.
‘Hello again,’ she started brightly. ‘I believe I know who you are—Melanie Reed. Am I right?’
The little face screwed up in suspicion and Jaz wondered if she’d overdone the brightness. Lots of her friends in Sydney had children, but they were all small—babies and toddlers.
Seven was small too, she reminded herself.
‘I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.’
Excellent advice, but… ‘I’m not really a stranger, you know. I used to live here a long time ago and I knew both your mum and your dad.’
That captured Melanie’s interest. ‘Were you friends?’
The ache inside her grew. ‘Yes.’ She made herself smile. ‘We were friends.’ They’d all been the best of friends once upon a time.
‘I can’t remember my mum, but I have a picture of her.’
Jaz gulped. According to Frieda, Melanie had only been two years old when Faye had left. ‘I… uh…well… It was a long time ago when I knew them. Back before you were born. My name is Jazmin Harper, but everyone calls me Jaz. You can call me Jaz too, if you like.’
‘Do you own the bookshop now?’
‘I do.’
Melanie gave a tentative smile. ‘Everyone calls me Melanie or Mel.’ The smile faded. ‘I wish they’d call me Melly. I think that sounds nicer, don’t you?’
Jaz found herself in total agreement. ‘I think Melly is the prettiest name in the world.’
Melanie giggled and Jaz sat herself down on one of the leatherette cubes dotted throughout the bookshop for the relief of foot-weary browsers. ‘Now, Melly, I believe your dad is going to be at least another half an hour.’
Melanie immediately shot to her feet, glanced around with wild eyes. ‘I’m not supposed to be here. You can’t tell him!’
Yikes. ‘Why not?’
‘Because I’m supposed to go to Mrs Benedict’s after school but I hate it there.’
Double yikes. ‘Why?’
‘Because her breath smells funny…and sometimes she smacks me.’
She smacked her! Jaz’s blood instantly went on the boil. ‘Have you told your daddy about this?’
Melly shook her head.
‘But Melly, why not?’
Melly shook her head again, her bottom lip wobbled. ‘Are you going to tell on me?’
Jaz knew she couldn’t let this situation go on, but… ‘How about I make a deal with you?’
