The Morning After The Wedding Before. Anne Oliver

his father—fine. But there was a mountain of pain and anger there, and … She paused, spoon in midair. And what, Emma?

      He clearly wasn’t going to talk about it. He didn’t want to talk about it—not with her at any rate—and she had no business pursuing it. It wasn’t as if they were close or anything.

      A moment later Jake turned to her again. ‘I was abrupt. I shouldn’t have been.’

      An apology. Of sorts. ‘It must be a tough time, no matter how you and he …’ The right words eluded her so she reached for the nearest platter instead. ‘Samosa?’

      ‘Thanks.’ He took one, put it on the side of his plate. ‘I’ve been thinking about you, Emma.’ He leaned ever so slightly her way, with a hint of seduction in the return of that suave tone.

      She could feel the heat bleed into her cheeks. ‘I don’t—’

      ‘Have you considered selling your supplies over the internet?’ He broke off a piece of naan bread. ‘Could be a profitable business for you. You never know—you might be able to give up your day job eventually.’

      ‘I don’t want to give up my day job.’ I’m not a risk-taker. Mum depends on me financially. I can’t afford to fail.

      ‘I could help you with your business plan,’ he continued, as if she’d never spoken. He lowered that sexy voice. ‘You only have to ask.’

      His silky words wrapped around her like a gloved hand and an exquisite shiver scuttled down her spine. She could imagine asking him … lots of things. She wondered if his sudden interest and diversionary tactics had anything to do with taking the focus off his own family problems. ‘I don’t have time to waste on the computer, and I told you already it’s not about the money.’ Business plan? What business plan?

      ‘Lacking computer confidence isn’t something to be embarrassed about.’

      ‘I’m n—’ With a roll of her eyes she decided her protest was wasted—men like Jake were always right—and topped up her curry with a broccoli floret. ‘I’m flat out supplying the local stores. I don’t need to be online.’

      ‘It would make it easier. And if your products are so popular why wouldn’t you want to see where they take you?’

      She would—oh, she so would. Her little cottage business was her passion, but technology was so not her; she wouldn’t know where to start with a website, and her meagre income—which went straight into the household budget—didn’t allow her to gamble on such a luxury. ‘As I said, there’s no time.’

      ‘Maybe you need to change your priorities. Or maybe you’re afraid to take that chance?’ He eyed her astutely as he broke off more bread. ‘The offer’s always open if you change your mind.’

      Was she so easy to read? An hour or so with Jake and he saw it already. Her fear of failure. Of taking that step into the unknown. He was the last person she’d be going to for help; she felt vulnerable enough around him as it was. ‘Thank you, I’ll keep it in mind.’

      Over the next hour the meal was punctuated with great food, toasts to the bride and groom, speeches and recollections of fond memories.

      Jake watched on, feeling oddly detached from the whole family and the getting-married scenario. What motivated sane, rational people to chain themselves to another human being for the term of their natural lives? In the end someone always ended up abandoning the other, along with any kids unlucky enough to be caught up in it.

      Then Emma excused herself to go to the ladies’ room and Julie claimed Bernice’s attention with wedding talk. He breathed a sigh of relief that for now he wasn’t included in the conversation.

      A moment later he saw Emma on her way back and watched, admiring her svelte figure and the way her hips undulated as she walked. Nice. Last night’s fantasy flashed back and a punch of lust ricocheted through his body. She’d been fire and ice yesterday at the club, and he couldn’t help wondering how it might translate to the bedroom.

      He saw her come to an abrupt halt as a newly arrived couple cut across her path. His eyes narrowed. Wasn’t that …? Yep. Wayne whoever-he-was. Jake watched on with interest as Wayne’s dinner partner hugged his arm a moment then walked to the ladies’, leaving Emma and Surfer Boy facing each other.

      More like facing off, Jake thought, studying their body language. Even from a distance he could see that Emma’s eyes had widened, that her face had gone pale and that Surfer Boy was trying to talk himself out of a sticky situation fast. Emma spoke through tight lips and shook her head. Then, turning abruptly, she headed straight for the balcony.

      Uh-oh, he thought, trouble in paradise?

      Emma’s whole body burned with embarrassment as she hurried for the nearest sanctuary. She pushed blindly through the glass doors and took in a deep gulp of the cooler air.

      He’d had the nerve to introduce the girl. His fiancée. Rani—a dusky beauty, heavy on the gold jewellery—had flashed a brand-new sparkle on the third finger of her left hand and said they’d been seeing each other for over a year.

      While Emma and Wayne had been seeing each other. Sleeping with each other.

      The bastard.

      He’d broken it off with Emma only a month ago. Said it wasn’t working for him. No mention then of a fiancée. Obviously this Rani girl had what it took to keep a man interested.

      The worst part was that Emma had let her guard down with him. She’d done what she’d sworn she’d never do—she’d fallen for him big time.

      Shielded by palm fronds, she leaned over the railing and stared at the traffic below. But she wasn’t seeing it—she was too busy trying to patch up the barely healed scars and a bunch of black emotions, like her own stupid gullibility. She’d been used. Deceived. Lied to—

      ‘Emma.’

      She jumped at the sound of Jake’s voice behind her. Embarrassment fired up again. He must have seen the exchange. No point pretending it hadn’t happened. ‘Hi.’ She ran a palm frond through her stiff fingers. ‘I was just talking to an ex.’

      ‘A recent ex, by the look of things.’ Warm hands cupped her shoulders and turned her towards him. He lifted her chin with a finger, and his eyes told her he knew a lot more than she wanted him to. ‘Should I be sorry?’

      She shook her head. ‘I’m not very good company right now.’ Shrugging off the intimacy of his touch, she looked down at the street again, at the neon signs that lit the restaurants and cafés.

      ‘You didn’t answer the question, Em,’ he said softly. ‘But, if you ask me, I’d say he’s not worth being sorry over.’

      ‘Damn right, he’s not. That was his fiancée. According to her, they’ve been together over a year.’

      ‘Hmm. I see.’

      ‘Unfortunately for me, I didn’t.’ She stared at the street. ‘We were both busy with work and after-hours commitments, but we always spent Friday nights together.’ Frowning, she murmured, ‘I wonder how he explained that to her?’

      ‘Friday nights?’ There was a beat of silence, then he asked, ‘You had, like, a regular slot for him, then?’

      She watched a couple strolling arm in arm below them and felt an acute pang of loss. ‘We had an understanding.’

      ‘He understood that you scheduled him into your working life like some sort of beauty session?’

      Her skin prickled. Wayne had actually been the one doing the scheduling, and Emma had been so head over heels, so desperate to be with him, she’d gone along with whatever he’d asked. ‘He had a busy schedule too.’ Obviously. ‘But Friday night was ours. And he was cheating all along.’

      Why the hell was she telling Jake this?