Home Truths (15 page)

‘Sh-sh-sh, a minute,' Calum urged, resting his hand on her back. Jennifer stilled as heat from his palm seeped through her dress onto her skin. ‘No, wherever they are they're not moving to your window.'

Hair everywhere, Jennifer shifted her head on the pillow to look at Calum. ‘Why are you here, in my room?' she quietly demanded, her voice shaky.

‘Thugs?'

‘Bret's always getting himself in trouble with the wrong sort — on the wrong end of the wrong scam — this one is the worst so far. But they're in Sydney and they think
we're
in Sydney.' Jennifer straightened to kneel on the bed.

‘You can't be sure about that. They haven't given you a location other than Kings Cross station, which is a big place. The moment your brother scarpered, they'll be looking for you, thinking Bret will make his way here. Sydney is barely two hours away.'

Jennifer felt the blood drain from her face. What had her brother done? Not only had he brought thugs into her life, and Sofie's, and Claudia's, but possibly this whole sleepy, friendly town. The ramifications tumbling, at speed, through her mind made her tremble with fear, not for herself, but for everyone else.

‘Jen,' Calum murmured low, his deep voice caressing her skin. ‘What I said was meant to alert you, I wasn't expecting you to react this way. I'm sorry.' He pulled her off the bed and held her tightly.

‘Let me go, please, Calum.' Jennifer mumbled against his bare chest, but made no move to push him away. Instead, her hands came up and gripped his muscled biceps like a lifeline.

‘I'm not letting you go until you stop shaking.'

‘Shit…that may take a while.'

‘Yeah? I don't mind — not going anywhere. You've had to deal with a lot of shit, and it's all catching up. Nervous energy on top of all that, and you're drained. You need to sleep. Take your clothes off, get comfortable, and get into bed.' He let her go and moved away; suddenly she felt very alone.

‘Where're you going?'

‘Nowhere. Go change in the bathroom, I'll be here on the floor when you get back.'

‘That's insane, why not use Uncle Bob's room, or the couch?' She didn't want him to do that, but asking him to stay in her room seemed wimpy, and she wasn't a wimp.

She watched him scan her body. She tried to stop the shakes by tightening her muscles, but that just made it worse.
Damn!

‘Sorry, not leaving.'

She gulped, feeling nervous and aroused at the same time. ‘Okay, well, the bed's a queen, I'm sure we can share without…' she stopped and motioned towards the bed with a backward wave of her hand. ‘Just get in…please.' Satisfied she'd made her point, Jennifer turned and headed for the bathroom. Her uncle had handpicked his pallbearers. Calum wouldn't have been one of them if he hadn't been an honourable and solid good bloke. She stripped, pulled on the Veronica slip, and went back. Calum lay on his side on top of the bed, elbow in the pillow, head in his hand, and a loose cover that stopped at his waist, his broad, muscled, bare chest: magnificent. Then he reached forward and pulled the quilt aside so she could hop in, a sexy invitation to join him. Her belly dropped and she licked her lips. His eyes dipped to her mouth, then slowly shifting back up he sent her a warm smile. Crikey!

She could easily take it further, and judging by the look on his face, he'd be happy to oblige. But she couldn't have sex without getting involved, and getting involved was an emotional investment she wasn't prepared to make.

‘Thank you.' She lay down, her back to him and closed her eyes; so far from sleep, it wasn't funny.

‘Night, Jen.' Calum's voice had that low rumble she was beginning to crave.

She brought her legs up, pushed one down, thumped her pillow, fidgeted, until exasperated she turned on her back and looked at the ceiling. ‘I can't sleep — damn it — I'm exhausted.' She heaved out a sigh.

Calum quietly chuckled, propped himself up and said, ‘I can help with that.'

‘Oh sure…how?' she asked hopefully.

‘I'll give you a massage.'

‘You're going to touch me?' Had she just said that out loud? He quirked an eyebrow at her. Oh God, she had.

‘It won't hurt, I promise.' He gave her a cheeky grin. ‘And you'll feel relaxed enough to fall asleep.'

Jennifer could not believe she was doing this, but when she eyed him, his grin eased into a smile. And her reaction was to flip onto her stomach.

God help me.

She felt the bed move and then his knee slipped between her thighs. She forced herself not to react, like moan with pleasure. He lifted her Veronica slip and she held her breath, but nothing happened.

‘Calum?'

‘Uh…yeah, I just realised, my hands are pretty rough.'

Was he panting? Was she expecting too much, that he could do this without getting aroused? Could she? Well, she was here on her stomach, might as well make the most of it.

‘There's moisturiser in the bathroom, that should work fine,' she mumbled into the pillow.

The bed shifted with his weight. He left, then came back to take up the same position between her legs.

She heard him squeeze cream on his hands then, after what felt like forever, he gently placed them on her back. He started kneading the muscles at her waist just above the elastic waistband of her undies. She moaned. Thumbs in the band of muscles either side of her spine, he slid up to under her ribs, then further between her shoulder blades then finally her shoulders and neck. With every push and circling of his thumbs, Jennifer moaned. Then he worked back down again.

‘Relax,' Calum ordered. ‘I'm not going to hurt you or take advantage. Trust me. Let yourself go.'

Jennifer closed her eyes and concentrated on easing the tension out of her body and softening her muscles. She felt her body sink into the mattress and that's all she remembered.

* * *

Calum's hands, lathered in moisturiser, hovered over her skin. Christ, what was he thinking when he offered to do this?

He took a deep breath, placed his palms on her lower back and began to gently knead, bringing his fingers and thumb into play on her muscles. Working on her, he was glad he'd offered. Her muscles were tense.

With every downward pressure, Jennifer moaned, making his cock twitch and grow harder. Despite his discomfort, he continued to work on her back and shoulders. After a while, she was so relaxed her mouth popped open. Jennifer was asleep. He eased himself over to his side, set his phone to buzz him at six am and shoved it under his pillow, then made himself comfortable, closed his eyes and smiled. He was in deep, deep shit.

It felt like no time at all had passed when his phone went off. He looked down to see that during the night, Jennifer's cheek was on his chest. Her leg was over his hip and she'd curled her arm around his waist. She had him trapped, but he loved the feel, it made him smile. Yeah, he liked this a hell-of-a-lot. He slipped his free hand under the pillow and turned off his phone. Now he had to disentangle himself from Jennifer. He started by easing out from under her, and carefully laid her head on the pillow, then softly lifted her arm and leg, and slipped out of bed.

Chapter 9

A sliver of early morning sunlight hit Jennifer's face. She screwed her eyes shut and arched her body under the flowery quilt. She yawned and stretched her arms up and out to the side. She stilled, remembering that she'd more or less ordered Calum to sleep next to her. Heart thumping, she lifted herself up to look. No Calum. Maybe, once she'd fallen asleep, he'd gone back to sleep on the floor. She threw back the quilt, crawled to the foot of the bed and saw that all his clothes and bedding were gone.

Okay, it was safe to say, Calum had taken off before she woke.

Jennifer told herself that was a good thing: nothing happened, therefore no strings. It was Saturday, and after the solicitor this afternoon, she could go home. She gasped. An anxious feeling burst in her chest. But why? Was she anxious to get home to London? Yes, of course that was it. Really, her sister and niece needed to leave as well. That way, they'd save the quiet country town of Tumble Creek a visit from city thugs.

At least she'd had a decent sleep, and felt so much better for it. Bret had escaped and there had been no more phone calls. That had to be a good sign, yes? She dragged herself out of bed, showered and dressed, hoping cargo pants and an embroidered cotton top would be appropriate for a visit to the solicitor. She slipped her feet into her favourite sandals, muttering about Bret and extortionists.

‘As if life doesn't have enough problems — honestly?' she said to Marilyn's black and white glam photo. On her way to the kitchen she realised that, other than stale scones and coffee made from hot tap water, food was scarce. She caught sight of a note propped up against a thermos with a paper bag next to it on the table.

She moved closer and picked up the note.
Back later, Twinkles. Calum
.

Her heart stuttered. Her breath quickened. Her mind was in a muddle. Calum had gone to the trouble of making sure she had breakfast. Jennifer dared not think anything into that.

She poured herself a coffee, opened the bag, peered in to find an assortment of sweet buns, and plucked out a cinnamon scroll. She wandered around the kitchen, munching and sipping her instant coffee. Jennifer imagined sitting around the kitchen table, with Sofie and Claudia. And during winter the old stove would keep them warm. Jennifer opened an overhead cupboard, found the most exquisite set of dinnerware, and took a cup down to look underneath. ‘Wow, Royal Doulton, Rose Buds. Uncle Bob, you're a mystery.' She shook her head and put the cup back. Were they all wrong about his sexual preferences? Perhaps he had a female soul, and Veronica loved his gentle side. But where was this elusive woman?

A quick look at her watch said she had a couple of hours to kill before Sofie and Claudia turned up for their appointment with the solicitor. Jennifer went downstairs to the shop's kitchenette. Restoration ideas fluttered through her mind. She quickly dismissed them as idiotic fantasies and opened the cellar door. Cool air rose and touched her face. The smell that wafted up reminded her of visits to ancient vineyard cellars in France, Germany and Italy. She'd only ever been down her uncle's cellar once, under his strict supervision. Drawn to the flagstone steps that disappeared down into inky blackness, she had to investigate, and now, she had to do it without him.

Her finger felt around on the wall for the light switch, found it and without thinking flicked it on. A sickly yellow light lit the way. Taking a deep breath, Jennifer started down the worn steps. Then with a snap, the lights were off, leaving her in the dark. ‘Crap!' She inched her way back to the door and ran to the upstairs kitchen. ‘Torch, candles — pantry?' She found an assortment of both and headed back to the cellar.

Torch at the ready, candle and matches in her pocket, Jennifer peered down the gaping black hole. There might be nothing more than damp cobwebs down there now, but somehow she doubted that. She directed the torchlight at the sandstone wall. The faint glow was barely enough to see by. ‘Great, it's a conspiracy.'

Ducking the spider webs, Jennifer carefully negotiated the narrow steps spiralling down. The air felt cooler with every step. A nagging little voice inside her said,
It's every chef's dream to have his or her own cellar.
She replied,
Sure, but not this chef and not this cellar.

The air was dank and chilly at the bottom of the stairs and Jennifer rubbed at her bare arms. Every move she made echoed. The cellar felt like a large cave. The darkness sucked the light right out of the torch. She moved forward and shone the faint beam around the stone walls and floor. She passed it over what appeared to be a pile of old clothes and quickly went back to the spot. ‘Oh my God, a hand!' Frozen with fear, her throat closed on a scream. Her entire body shook. She dropped the torch. It clattered onto the flagstones and went out.

Jennifer widened her eyes, but the blackness surrounded her, dense like an impenetrable cloak. Her breath came in short gasps and strange, squeaky noises came out of her mouth.

RUN!

* * *

Calum had been to the hardware shop and bought a carton of smoke alarms. He wanted to fit them at Bob's place as soon as possible. He stood at the front door of the empty chemist shop, hand raised ready to knock, when a blood-curdling scream erupted from inside. The hair on the back of his neck prickled. More screams echoed through the shop. It was difficult to tell where they were coming from, but he knew one thing: it was Jennifer.

‘Shit!' He had to get in there, fast. He hammered on the door, and then thumped it with his shoulder, any harder and he'd break the plate glass. It crossed his mind to go around the back, but that would've taken too long. By the time he got there she'd be at the front with her hair on fire because she hadn't listened to his warnings, or worse still, she was wrestling thugs.

‘Jen!' he shouted. Ignoring the few pedestrians who slowed their pace for a better look, he ran back to his work ute and pulled a mallet out of his tool box. ‘I'm coming, Jen!' He raised his mallet ready for the first blow into the shop's glass front door.

‘Cal! Ya can't use a mallet!' a passer-by hollered from across the street, ‘the place is heritage listed!'

Calum glared over his shoulder and hesitated, then heard the brass bolts slide with frantic speed and turned to see the door fly open.

‘Calum!' Jennifer cried out. All colour had drained from her face, but at least her hair wasn't on fire.

Itching to hold her, he dropped his mallet. Before he could step in and wrap his arms around her, she grabbed a handful of T-shirt near his throat and hauled him in.

‘Get in here!' She yanked him across the shop floor. ‘Quick, hurry, there's a dead man in the cellar!'