The Morning After The Wedding Before. Anne Oliver

is not to take these things too seriously.’

      These things? Being in love was just one of these things? ‘And you’d be the expert at that particular trick, wouldn’t you?’ She and Wayne had had an understanding. He’d betrayed her and that was serious.

      To her surprise, he spoke sharply. ‘Contrary to what you may think, I don’t cheat.’

      ‘Because you’re not with a woman long enough.’ As if she would know his modus operandi these days … she wasn’t exactly a social butterfly. She looked up and met Jake’s eyes—dark, intense, like Turkish coffee. ‘Sorry.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s just that you’re here, you’re male, and right now I want to punch something. Or someone.’ Her gaze flicked down to the street. ‘Nothing personal.’

      He shoved his hands in his pockets. ‘Emma, yesterday—’

      ‘You live your way, I live mine.’ She waved him off. ‘We’re not teenagers any more.’

      But was she living her life her way? she wondered as she paced past the balcony’s foliage and back. Or was she living for other people?

      After her father had died, leaving them virtually penniless, Emma had spent years working menial jobs after school so that they wouldn’t have to sell her maternal grandmother’s home, and then had supported herself through her studies. Her mother had been diagnosed with clinical depression soon after their father’s death, and Stella had taken on the role of main carer, but Emma had been the one with the ultimate financial responsibility.

      She didn’t mind giving up her time or her money, but her mother was recovered now and Emma’s sacrifices went unacknowledged and unappreciated.

      And now she’d discovered the man she’d loved had been cheating on her for God knew how long, and in Jake’s opinion it was because she was so focused on her work.

      But Jake knew nothing about it, and she intended for it to stay that way. It did not excuse Wayne. Even the fact that the girl was more exotic than she was, more voluptuous … more everything … was no excuse. She was tempted to run downstairs and tell him what she thought of him, let Rani in on his dirty little secret—except she never wanted to see him again and she’d only make herself look like a fool. ‘If nothing else, I expect honesty in a relationship.’

      ‘You call a regular Friday night bonk a relationship?’ he said.

      She met his stare with a defiant stare of her own. ‘It suited us.’

      ‘It suited you.’

      She bit her lip to stop unwanted words from spilling out. ‘I thought what we had was what he wanted too.’

      ‘Yeah, I’m sure it was.’

      His dry comment riled her further. She rubbed the chill from her arms while inside her the anger and hurt and humiliation burned bright and strong. Better him thinking she was an idiot than knowing the embarrassing truth—that she was a naïve, gullible idiot.

      ‘Sometimes I get so damn tired of doing what everyone else wants. What other people expect …’ She trailed off when she saw Wayne and Rani outside an Italian restaurant on the street below. While his fiancée studied the menu in the window he glanced up and met Emma’s eyes.

      Renewed outrage surged through the other emotions in a dark wave. She refused to step back, refused to be the one to break eye contact. How dared he? Their weekly love-in had been a lie. They’d been seeing each other for months and the whole time he’d been deceiving her.

      Making a fool of her.

      In an uncharacteristic move, she made a rude hand gesture … and it felt good. Especially when Wayne looked away first. She spun away towards Jake, finding an oddly reassuring comfort in his presence. ‘And sometimes I just want to live my own life and to hell with everything and everyone.’

      ‘So start now, Em,’ he said, his voice gentle yet firm. ‘Change your life. Do what you want for a change.’

      She stared into those dark eyes holding hers. What did she want?

      All she saw was Jake.

      Every rational thought flew away. Every drop of sense drained out of her as she stepped nearer to him, her eyes only leaving his to drift to his mouth.

       What I want …

      Before she could warn herself that this was a Really Bad Idea, she launched forward, cupped his jaw between her hands and plastered her lips to his.

      Her heart gave a single hard jolt, and a little voice whispered, This is what I’ve been waiting for. The sizzle zapped all the way to her toes and back again before frustration and fury liquefied into heat and hunger. She flung herself into the moment, indulging her senses. The warmth of his mouth against hers was a counterfoil for his cool, refreshing scent—like moss on a pristine forest floor.

      Caught off guard, Jake rocked back on his heels before steadying himself, and her, his hands finding purchase on the smooth slope of her hips as he kissed her back.

      Emma. Her taste—new and unforgettably sweet. The fragrance of soap and shampoo and woman all wrapped up in the texture of skin-warmed silk beneath his fingers.

      She was a rising tornado of emotion and needs, and it whipped around the edges of his own darker desires. The word complication lurked somewhere at the back of his mind. He shrugged it away and instead, sliding his palms around to her back, hauled her closer and settled in to savour more of the exquisite sensations battering him.

      ‘Ohh …’ The sound was exhaled on a strangled gasp as firm hands pushed at his chest. She jerked out of his hold, eyes wide. ‘I didn’t … That was …’

      ‘Nice,’ he finished for her. His hormone-ravished body protested the gross understatement even as he knew she was just using him to get back at the drivelling idiot probably still watching the performance from the other side of the street.

      As quickly as it had blown in the whirlwind subsided leaving only a tantalising whisper as she stared up at him, rolled her lips between her teeth and said, ‘I don’t know why I … did that.’

      ‘You were upset. I was here.’ Enjoying the way her eyes reflected her conflict, he couldn’t help but grin. ‘Have to tell you it wins hands down over the punch you threatened to dole out earlier.’

      ‘I … need to see if Mum’s ready to go home.’

      ‘Emma.’ He lifted a hand, dropped it when she edged farther away. ‘Don’t beat yourself up. It was just a kiss. And I’m sure Wayne got the message.’

      She flinched as if he’d hit her. ‘He wasn’t the … He wasn’t look—I was … Oh, forget it.’

      And in the light filtering through from the restaurant he glimpsed twin spots of colour flag her cheeks before she whirled around and made a dash to the door.

      Shoving his hands into his pockets, he leaned a hip against the railing while he waited for his body’s horny reaction to subside. You kiss me like that, honey, I ain’t gonna forget.

      It was too bad she’d come to her senses so quickly. He didn’t mind being used when it came in the form of a beautiful woman in distress—particularly when the woman had seemed oblivious that she had, in fact, used him. He looked down at the street. No sign of the scumbag.

      He could still smell Emma; the fresh, untainted fragrance lingered in the air, on his clothes. The flavour of that one luscious kiss still danced on his tastebuds. The surprise of it—of her—like the first green sprout emerging from the carnage of a bushfire, still vibrated along his bones. She’d reacted without thinking for a hot and heavy moment there, and he’d enjoyed every second.

      So had she.

      And he wasn’t going to let her forget either. Her weekly love-in arrangement proved she did casual. And she expected