In the Market for Love (12 page)

“It’s the truth,” Jake sai
d.

“She’s your wife, for heaven’s sake.”

“She’s my wife and we’re separated. I don’t have feelings for her any more. But she
is
the mother of my child.”

“Sounds like you’re a married man.”

“Only on paper. Only for Connor.”

“Married
men don’t leave their wives. You think I haven’t worked that out by now? I’ve seen it before. They may sleep with other women and have affairs but they never leave their wives.”

“I’m
not
a married man. Not in the way you think. I haven’t been her husband for years. All we’ve got in common is Connor.”

“That’s very convenient,”
she said.

“Convenient? You think this is convenient?”
He stood and shook his head in disgust. “It’s bloody hard work. Every day is a trial but I do it for Connor. I can’t let him down the way my father let me down.”

“You’ve got an excuse for everything. What’s your father got to do with it?”

“It’s not an excuse. I’m human you know. My life isn’t perfect and my father certainly wasn’t. He left my mother with two small kids. He couldn’t have been less interested in us. He called himself a businessman. He did what he wanted and thought he could buy us with his money. We barely saw him for years.”

“We’v
e all got our problems,” she said. “What makes yours so special?”

“You don’t get it do you?
In some ways I’m a lot like my father. He was so damn ambitious and I’ve got that in me too. But I don’t want to be like him. I want what’s best for Connor. I want him to have a better start in life than I did.”

Rachel
didn’t dare look up at Jake. She didn’t know what to believe.

She only knew she didn’t want to put herself at risk again. Being hurt was part of ev
eryday life and being devastated, as she’d been before, was another.

They were
talking about infidelity. She couldn’t possibly give herself to a man who was married.

“Marcus told you, didn’t he?” Jake asked. “Today. At the office. I don’t think he meant it to happen that way.”

“It doesn’t matter who told me. I worked it out.”

H
e looked her in the eye. “I didn’t tell you the complete truth right away but I didn’t lie. I tried to tell you lots of times. I was about to tell you at the Ebony Bar and then that drunk guy came along and you ran out on me. I did try. I tried again today.”

“Not hard enough.”

She didn’t care for his excuses. She’d already worked out he’d tried to tell her in his office today but that wasn’t good enough.

“I’m sure you have your secr
ets too,” he said.

Though she pressed her eyes shut, she felt his gaze fixed on her.

“You’re a woman,” he said. “You’ve lived. I know you’ve been hurt. Things have happened that you don’t want to talk about but that doesn’t mean you’re lying. I know something happened, something that’s stopping you from trusting yourself. And me.”

It wasn’t possible he could know her marriage t
o Nick wasn’t as happy as she’d so naively thought. No one knew. All those years ago she’d tried to explain it to the people closest to her but everyone assumed she had the perfect marriage. How could he guess when her closest friends and relatives couldn’t understand even after she’d tried to tell them?

She gaz
ed up at Jake. Even when he was angry, he looked strong, alluring, handsome.

She
still wanted him.

And
she had to get out of there.

She reached for her bag and stood.
“I think that’s enough for one night, don’t you?”

It was only
a few steps to the French doors but she didn’t make it. Jake’s manly hands fell upon her shoulders.

“Don’t touch me,” she said, her words weak, her voice a whisper.

His hands slipped down over her upper arms, sending a sizzle up her spine, a charge that shouldn’t be there. She had to fight this.

She turned, flung
his hands off and cleared her throat to make sure the words came out right.

“Don’t do this.”

Years of anger and resentment boiled inside her, the molten mass bubbling over read to explode.

Nick’s infidelity. His all encompassing confidence when he was cheating on her. Finding the photos. Seeing the evidence. And the overwhelming feeling that she got what she deserved. It all came tumbling back to her.

Jake’s lips parted as he reached for her. She couldn’t let him touch her. Too dangerous. He took a step back.

How had it come to this?

“Goodbye, Jake.”

She raced out of the door and down the side path
. He caught up with her at the foot of the driveway and grabbed her arm.

“You can’t drive in this state,” he said.

She spun around to face him. “What state?”

“Let me drive you home. Or I’ll call a cab for you.”

“No, I’ve calmed down. I’ll drive myself.”

Amazingly enough, s
he even sounded calm.

Jake looked into her eyes. Could he see her fear and hesitation? Did he know how desperately she wanted him to take her into his arms? Because despite her doubts, despite everything
, that was what she wanted.

He placed his
hands on her shoulders, pulled her closer and pressed his mouth against hers.

Her lips tingled and a current of feminine desire surged through her body. All logic and rational thought
disappeared.

She wanted him with a vengeance and she didn’t want him. Never before had she been so unsure of
her desires.

Her voice was little more than a whisper. “You promised you wouldn’t kiss me.”

He slid his hands off her shoulders. “And I kept that promise.”

“You just broke it.”

“It was never meant to be a life long promise.”

She
stepped back and found herself leaning against her car, one hand groping against the car as if to check it was solid enough to take her weight.

No longer in control,
her legs trembled as she rested against the vehicle. There was nothing left to hold her back.

Jake was like a shadow stepping in sync with her, following her retreating form, his face hovering above hers, his eyes glued to her parted lips. His
mouth brushed hers in a kiss so gentle it was barely there.

She should resist. She should push his away. She didn’t.

He peppered her neck with little kisses, and wound his arms more tightly around her waist, lifting her off the ground. She snaked her arms up over his shoulders and around the back of his neck.

The
delicate kisses on her throat became more effusive, more vigorous. She gasped for air through her open mouth. His breath was hot and moist as he trailed little kisses up her neck to her waiting lips.

He covered her mouth with his and
rolled his tongue against hers. He was relentless. This wasn’t a kiss. It was an assault. A deep moan stuck in her throat but he continued, ravishing her mouth with his, sliding his tongue against hers.

He dipped his head lower
and showered her neckline with little kisses while his hand inched upwards over the little ridges of her ribcage. He cupped her breast and massaged the soft flesh.

A current of ele
ctricity shot up her spine. Heat pooled low in her belly. His mouth found hers and he kissed her again, more deeply this time.

There
was nothing else. Only their kiss, his hand still on her breast.

After a while, he pulled back.

“You don’t have to say anything,“ he said.

She
shook her head. “I have to go.”

*          *          *

Jake watched as she walked around the car, slid into the driver’s seat and drove away without looking back.

He didn’t like watching her leave.

The tail lights of her car disappeared into the distance and around a corner. She wasn’t coming back.

He
slumped down onto the curb, his long legs bent, his head in his hands. He’d pleaded with her, tried to make her believe him. He’d wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake some sense into her. He’d have got down on his knees if he believed for a moment it would have made any difference.

She had
tremendous resolve and strength of will. He’d met men in the business world who had the same cut-throat determination as her but never before a woman. Whereas men used this indomitableness to amass a fortune or a power base, Rachel used it to protect herself.

He would call and text her
this weekend though he was sure she wouldn’t answer. He doubted she’d speak to him about anything other than the campaign from now on. She’d make sure it was business only.

He had to make her listen to him, make her believe he was telling her the truth. If she was determined then, damn it, so was he.

She would never believe he was separated.

Not coming from him.

She had to hear it from someone else. She had to be exposed to people who knew him. People she would believe.

He stood and walked back to the house
.

If there was one thing h
e knew well, it was the advertising business and now he had his own campaign to promote. She needed to hear about him from other people. He had to put her in a position where she’d mix with his staff and clients and others who knew him. He had to give her the opportunity to learn more about him.

Now he had a new campaign to run.

Love’s campaign.

Rachel strode into the bedroom of her Coogee apartment, her body writhing with conflicting emotions.

Married. Not married. Separated. She didn’t
know what to believe or think.

And that kiss. She’d certainly wanted it. She may have pushed Jake away earlier in the evening but later, when he wrapped his arms around her, there was no doubt
she’d yearned for him.

She shook her head.
“I don’t even know what I’m doing any more.”

Opening the door of her wardrobe, she
picked up the jacket that was lying on her bed, grabbed a hanger and thrust the jacket onto it. As she shoved it roughly back onto the rail, she knocked the surrounding clothes onto the wardrobe floor.

“Oh, blow it!”

Talk about frustrating. She retrieved the fallen garments and hung them back up. Her eyes fell upon the dust covered black guitar case leaning in the back corner of the wardrobe. It was strange. It had been there for years and although she opened her closet every day, she never even noticed it.

She
reached inside, grabbed the black leather handle and swung the guitar case onto her bed. She flicked open the gold latches and opened the case, admiring how the plush lining had kept the guitar dust free.

Nick’s Martin D28 acoustic maple top guitar. The one thing that had belonged to him with which she
simply couldn’t bear to part. She’d refused to sell it even though the guitar would have brought in much needed money to help cover the debts after Nick passed away.

It had always been at the back of her mind. Perhaps one day she’d have a son or daughter of her own who might play it.

She’d saved for the guitar for over a year, putting aside a little money each week. The instrument was much more than she could afford at the time but she hadn’t cared. She’d wanted Nick to have the best. Wanted to show him how much she loved him.

The
last time she’d seen the guitar had been a bad day. Worse than the day Nick died. If that were possible.

She’d been
in the bedroom of their old house in Balmain, sorting through Nick’s belongings after the accident. The floor and bed had been covered in piles of clothes, some in boxes, others stacked in neat piles.

That was when she’d found the envelope.

She’d thought it odd there should be an envelope in Nick’s tee shirt drawer. She recalled lifting the stack of tee shirts and placing them on the bed. She’d been hesitant as she removed the envelope that was carefully wedged between two white shirts. The familiar shape of photographs filled the envelope, the mottled colours showing through the white of the envelope.

She’d sat on the bed and stared at the
item in her hands. Why would Nick keep photos in his tee shirt drawer?

She’d
laid the photos out on the bed and stared at them. She hadn’t sobbed or made a sound, not right away. She’d hoped her stillness and solitude could stop time, stop her world as it tumbled down around her.

She looked at the photos and she knew.

They weren’t indecent. But the story they told was indisputable.