In the Market for Love (8 page)

“So have I.”

Was she a new project of his? It was time to cut him down. All she had to do was stick to her original decision and decline lunch.

“I’m sorry
, Jake, I simply can’t make it.”

He
chuckled into the telephone. She pictured the broad smile across his face, his white teeth sparkling, his eyes crinkling up at the corners.

“What o
n earth is so funny?” she asked.

“Rachel Williams, are you afraid of having lunch with me?”

“Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Are you afraid I’ll kiss you again?”

Her mouth fell open with surprise and anger but she held back. It wouldn’t have been so infuriating if he were wrong but, damn him, he was right and that took it beyond rudeness into the realm of insolence.

“What if I promise
not
to kiss you?” he asked.

“You have no idea how
well that would suit me. I’ll be there at 12.30 on the dot. What’s the place called again?”

No way would he get the better of her. She
scribbled down the address, slammed down the phone and stared at it in shock. A picture of Jake emerged in her mind. Confident. Suave. Probably still smiling at the other end of the phone.

“I can’t believe this,” Rachel
mumbled, just as Samantha entered the office they shared.

Samantha reached over her desk for some papers. “What’s up?”

“Nothing. I’ve got a lunch meeting with Jake today.”

“W
hat’s wrong with that?”

“I’ve got a lot on at the moment. I’m flat out here.” She shook her head and looked away, annoyed at herself and he
r own lack of resolve.

“So how come this meeting is ‘lunch’ anyway?” Samantha
arched an eyebrow. “And how come Marcus and I aren’t invited?”

“
I didn’t choose the place or time or anything.”

“But I guess you’re going. How bad can it be? You get a free lunch. And Jake is quite a hunk.”
Samantha stopped by the door. “I’ve seen you looking at him.”

“I don’t think that…” Rachel fumbled with her words. “Looking is one thing. Lunching is another.”

“When was the last time you went out for lunch and it wasn’t with the girls? Don’t be such a prude. Have some fun for a change.”

Samantha left the office
.

How bad could it be?
What kind of question was that? She couldn’t lunge into a relationship with a man as dangerous as Jake. Not after her previous experience with him. If that’s what it was like to kiss him, she could only imagine what it would be like to…

No, she had to be careful to keep their rela
tionship more business-like until she worked out a way of keeping her feelings in check. Nevertheless, the thought of lunch alone with Jake caused a sensual tugging inside her that she couldn’t override.

He’
d been teasing when he said he wouldn’t kiss her. She could taunt him right back. This might turn out well after all. Now she was in the power position.

Maybe Samantha was right.

It was time to have some fun.

*          *          *

Rachel caught a cab to Darlinghurst, crossed the street and searched for Mancini’s. Jake said there would be a small sign at the end of a laneway. It made her wonder why he’d chosen such a dodgy looking place.

Entering though an
oversized battered door, she went down a set of dark wooden stairs and turned a corner to enter a large, friendly basement room.

The ceiling was warped and looked like it might cave in as large dark wooden beams struggled to hold its weight. The walls were whitewashed, forming the backdrop to an eclectic mix of paintings of landscapes and piazzas of Italy. The roughly hewn wooden tables were largely unadorned.

Rachel was transported to another country and felt as if she’d chanced by an Italian trattoria on her travels. This wasn’t at all what she was expecting.

“So you made it here alright?”

Jake’s voice was deep and guttural, intoxicating even when his words were matter of fact.

She turned to face him. “Of course.”

He took a step back, a subtle smile washing across his face as his eyes skimmed the length of her figure. The crimson top she wore was clingy and its deep V neckline exposed rather more cleavage than was usual for her. The top might not have been her first choice if she’d known she was having lunch with Jake, but he could look if he wanted.

A young
waiter knew Jake by name and seated them at a small rustic square table in a corner. He handed them menus and placed cold water on the table.

“Shall we order first or go through the agenda?” Rachel asked.

Jake’s lips curled up at the corners. “What agenda?”

“I thought you wanted to meet over lunch. I presume we’re here for a purpose.”

“Oh, we are.”

She looked him in the eye with an air of confidence to match his own. “Well there’s no need to let me in on the secret.”

The head waiter, a rotund Italian fellow, came over to their table.

“Jake, so nice to see you again
,” he said loudly. “And who is the lovely signorina?”

Jake introduced her to Carlo.

“
Bellissima
.” Carlo was even louder than before.

“And was the last lady Jake brought here also
bellissima
?” Rachel asked.

“
Certamente
,” Carlo said. “
Molto bellissima
. But she wasn’t a signorina. It was his mother, Signora Austin.”

Not the answer she was expecting.
So Jake was close to his mother.

H
e then ordered a glass of red wine for himself and sparkling mineral water for her.

Carlo continued. “The cook has done a wonderful job with the pasta arrabiata today but it will not be as ‘hot’ as your signorina.”

“Perfect,” Jake said. “We’ll have an antipasto platter to start and two pasta dishes for mains.”

Carlo
left them.

“So you’ve decided what I’m having for lunch, have you?” Rachel asked.

“Actually I didn’t decide what we’re having. Carlo did. That’s the secret to ordering at this place. I have them bring me whatever is freshest and best on the day. That’s why I like it here. It doesn’t look like much from the outside but the food is excellent. Just simple good food.”

Rachel was still determined to have some fun with him. “Sounds to me like you’re avoiding taking responsibility.”

“On the contrary, I think
you
can take responsibility for the pasta.”

“H
ow’s that?”

“Arrabiata means ‘angry’ in Italian and that’s the kind of pasta we’re having. Carlo seems to think it’ll suit you. That is, after your comment about the other signorinas.”

Rachel laughed. “Really? At least I know you aren’t trying to impress me. If you were, you’d probably take me one of those expensive fine dining establishments.”

He shrugged. “Maybe next time I will
. But, tell me, which would you prefer, a flash restaurant or the place I take my mother?”

“What’s the saying? Mother knows best.”

“I’m very close to her,” Jake said. Rachel nodded for him to continue. “She raised my brother and me on her own and did a darn good job even though she was up against it. We were a bit of a handful.”

“Oh I’d
believe that!”

“We needed a man in our lives and our father wasn’t there so we rebelled. Got into a bit of trouble. My mother is a strong woman. She had to be to raise us on her own. I’ve always admired strong women. Women who can make it on their ow
n. My grandmother was the same, taking over the farm when Pop damaged his back. They were married for over 50 years. Now that was a marriage.”

“
What about your father?”

“M
y parents divorced when we were young and he spent the rest of his time making his millions,” he said. “Apparently money was more important than spending time with his sons. Even after all these years I still don’t know him but I have this horrible feeling I might be a bit like him.”

Rachel thought about her own family and how close she and her sister were to their parents. Although they were never wealthy, her parents had a loving relationship, one on which she and her sister had modelled their own marriages. At least for her s
ister things had turned out.

Conversation flowed as their antipasto arrived and they nibbled on prosciutto, cheeses and
stuffed olives. Rachel dipped a chunk of crusty Italian bread into a bowl of golden olive oil and bit into it.

“You were right,” she said be
tween mouthfuls. “This is good.”

“Ah, a
woman who enjoys wholesome food without worrying about the calorie count of each mouthful. Now that’s something you don’t see a lot nowadays.”

“I hope you’re not sugge
sting I need to watch my weight.”

H
e wasn’t trying to impress her by taking her to one of Sydney’s famed fine dining restaurants. Mancini’s was an expression of one side of his personality and his enjoyment of honest, earthy things. The restaurant served simple Italian fare in unpretentious, down to earth surroundings.

Two bowls of steaming pasta arrived at their table, complete with sliv
ers of fresh Parmesan cheese. She decided to take the opportunity to find out more about the elusive Jake Austin.

“So what
do you do when you’re not working?” she asked.

“I used to do all kinds of things – skiing and surfing – but now I concentrate on doing t
hings with Connor. He’s still young.”

Rachel was intrigued. “Skiing and surfing. Sounds like fun.”

“I used to go skiing every winter, either at Thredbo or Perisher in New South Wales. I went to Canada a few times too. I’m waiting until Connor’s a bit older until I take that up again. And I used to drive up and down the coast to get a bit of surf. A couple of trips to Hawaii. That sort of thing.”

No, Rachel didn’t know that sort of thing. This was well outside the bounds of her personal experience.

“Now I take Connor to my holiday house at Bateman’s Bay,” he said. “It’s only a few hours south of here. The house backs onto the rainforest and from the front door, it’s a short walk to the beach. Connor loves it down there. We go swimming and fishing.”

Rachel thought of her two young nieces and how she loved having them for the occasional sleep over and
taking them for an early morning walk on Coogee Beach. She thought about Jake and how fondly he spoke about Connor. How obvious it was that his son was the most important thing in the world to him.

And she thought how different Jake’s life was from hers.

“So what do you do for your holidays?” he asked.

“Not much real
ly,” she replied vaguely. She tilted her head and considered Jake carefully. Would the truth shock him?

“When Nick died he left me with a lot of debt. I had to sell our house. We hadn’t had it for long and it ended up costing me money. I’m only just getting back on my feet. Now I’m flush and I’ve got a little flat in Coogee but I couldn’t tell you the last time I went on a holiday.”

She’d said too much already. She couldn’t possibly tell Jake how a young man like her husband raked up large debts, all the time keeping it hidden from her. After he passed away, she found out he’d sold his share of the architecture business to his partner, as well as amassed remarkable credit card bills.

For a moment, she thought Jake appeared to be considering what she’d said and that he might ask her about her husband’s debts but instead he changed the subject.

“And what’s your dream holiday?” he asked.

“I don
’t need to think about that one. Paris. It has to be Paris.”

Jake’s hand inched
across the table.

“Paris,” h
e said.

He covered her hand with his. It sent a sensual ripple through her. His ga
ze dropped to their hands, then slowly along her breasts up to her eyes as if he were drinking her in.

She had to think straight. She was drawn to him. She couldn’t deny it. Yet their lives were so different.

Jake tilted his head and leaned across the table.

“I hope you aren’t thinking of kissing me?”
she said, teasing him. “Such a shame you promised not to.”

“Are you sure that’s what I said?”

She glanced at her watch. “Actually, the real shame is the time.”

With an early afternoon appointment at work, Rachel had to race
off so she made her apologies. She had to keep a level head around Jake and couldn’t afford to be late for her next meeting. As she rose to leave, he pulled some notes out of his wallet and left them on the table.