Home Truths (20 page)

Jennifer pressed her hands to his back and pushed up. She managed to reach his ear with her mouth; licking around the edge and grazing it with her teeth. She sucked the lobe; it popped out of her mouth as he set her down in the pink bedroom.

Arms over his shoulders to his back, Calum gripped his T-shirt and hauled it off over his head, then stripped off his jeans and sneakers. She watched as his heated gaze slowly travelled over her body.

‘Fuck you're beautiful.' He stepped in, wrapped his arms around her, dropped his forehead, and rested it against hers. With a determined look in his eyes, he whispered, ‘I'm staying the night.'

‘Why?'

‘Thugs.'

She gave a throaty laugh. ‘That'll do it,' she murmured, enjoying the feel of his skin under her hands.

* * *

Jennifer woke to the sound of her vibrating phone drumming on the old timber floor. Calum's heavy arm felt comfortable wound around her waist; her bottom, tucked into his groin. Nice. She didn't want to move, but so as not to wake him, she carefully circled her finger around his wrist and started to lift his arm. He gave a low grumble, and tightened his hold.

‘Sorry,' she whispered. ‘Want to get to my phone, and use the bathroom.' He gave her a squeeze, and like a caress, he slid his arm off her waist and let her go. Jennifer swung her legs over the side of the bed, snatched up her cargo pants, and picked up her phone. The moment she had it in her hands it stopped ringing. She headed for the bathroom and keyed into missed calls. She didn't recognise the number, but just in case it was Bret, she called back.

‘Well, if it isn't the sister.'

‘Shit!' she hissed.

‘Don't hang up, bitch. Your brother won't get very far; you hear from him, tell him we're comin' for you and the money.'

Jennifer sucked air in through a constricted throat, which sounded just like air squeezing past a stretched neck of a balloon. Muttering curses, she jabbed end call several times and felt a presence behind her. She swung around, catching her pale and terrified expression in the mirror. It was difficult to form words her mouth was so dry.

Calum pulled her into his arms and held her to him. ‘Talk to me,' he murmured.

‘Thugs.' She dug her fingers into his back. ‘They're coming for me.'

He tightened his hold. ‘Talk to Brock.'

‘I can't. I don't want anyone to be bothered by our problems.'

‘What are you saying?' Frowning, Calum leaned back to look at her.

‘We've got to leave. Save everyone from having to deal with city gangsters coming to Tumble Creek. I don't know how nasty these goons are, and I
don't
want them here. It's scary as hell.' She pushed out of his hold and turned, but Calum hooked an arm around her waist and tucked her back to his front.

‘We're not a bunch of country bumpkins that we can't handle a couple of dickheads. They don't know you're here.' His voice rumbled deep, caring, understanding, giving. ‘The only way they'd find this town is if they followed Bret, and they don't know where he is otherwise they wouldn't be hassling you.' He kissed the back of her neck, slowly moving around to the side and up to her ear. ‘What we had last night wasn't a one off.' His hands dipped down to her belly where, palm flat, he made lazy circles on her skin. God, his touch felt so good, she sank back into him.

Belly! A pregnant woman's belly!
Jennifer tried to ignore his caresses. Damn it, she shouldn't have lost herself last night and shouldn't be doing this now. No-no-no. Pregnant woman! Not staying! She lived in London where there were no thugs about to descend — London where her dream restaurant waited!

A heartbreaking groan left Jennifer's throat and she lunged out of Calum's arms. What was she thinking? This was a small town with big gossip and rumours and thugs and a pregnant woman pointing her belly at Calum. Rash judgements and self-doubts overruled her heart. She thought it best to save everyone embarrassment, and leave now.

‘Jen, what the fuck?' he said, voice scary, eyes dark, questioning.

‘I've got to go.' She gasped and pointed her finger at him, saying,
‘No — you've
got to go!'

‘Jen, I didn't mean to rush you, but this is bullshit. You were enjoying it as much as I was.' Frowning he shook his head and paused. And in that brief moment it seemed he came to an understanding. His expression softened. Jennifer braced herself for his tender attempt at coaxing, and she was right. His eyebrows rose and he leant forward, and gently told her what he believed to be true. ‘I know that
you
know we have something going here. Something special to explore together.'

‘I'm in way over my head. I'm not a one-night stand kind of woman either, but I have…long-standing commitments in London. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…' she pleaded.

Calum's hands dropped to his sides. He stood motionless, and didn't do a very good job at hiding his disappointment. Too bad, Jennifer tried to tell herself as her heart broke in two. She couldn't get the thought of the pregnant woman out of her head and the way she'd made a public claim on Calum. For goodness sake, who else could she have been?

‘There's a rumour around town that you made a girl pregnant. Are you the father?' The hurt look on his face squeezed at her heart. She instantly regretted the words that had tumbled from her mouth. Staring at him, she wished the floor would swallow her up.

Understanding flashed in Calum's eyes. ‘I see.' His hand fell on his chest. He gave her a curt nod and backed away. Deep sadness, and if it was possible, even deeper disappointment etched his face. Without another word, he turned and strode out of the bathroom, shoved on his jeans, T-shirt and boots and, without a backward glance, he was gone.

Jennifer covered her mouth to hide the sobs racking her throat. What had she done? No one had ever made her feel like that. And she'd never felt a man shake for her either. Her mind spun and, on the verge of collapse, she leant against the bedroom door. She collapsed on the bed and sobbed into her pillow. The only thing she was good at was being a chef. She had a business partner, a lease to sign, a restaurant to open in fabulous London.

She had to leave!

Chapter 11

‘I'm ready to go home,' Jennifer stated over breakfast with her sister and niece later that morning. She didn't want to think about Calum's mouth, his hands, his lovemaking, and how it had made her lose her sanity. And she wasn't going to scare them about the thug phone call. Bret was still on the run. All they had was Jennifer's phone number. She wasn't scared for herself, head chefs were far scarier, and she had to deal with them on a daily basis. No, for once in her life, she going to protect her sister and niece as best she could. Yes, she was definitely leaving, this was just one more reason to do so. And as soon as she was back in London, she'd call the half-wits and tell them to give her a bit more time to get the money together.

‘We're not ready,' Sofie stated flatly.

‘Mum!' Claudia wailed.

Sofie chased a cornflake around her bowl. ‘It's school holidays. What's the hurry?'

‘You know what this is, Aunt Jen? Mum met this bloke, cop, who looks like Arni Swartse-whatever after she ran into a pole and now they're making goo-goo eyes at each other.'

‘Ran into
what pole?' Jennifer raised her eyebrows. ‘You don't look hurt — any bruising?'

‘His name is Brock and we're both fine,' Sofie reassured her. ‘I happened to nudge a pole, that's all. My brain curdled after Muggins here told me that she and Skids were in love.'

Jennifer turned to look at her niece. ‘That'd do it.'

‘Don't you start, Aunt Jen.'

Jennifer lifted both hands up and shook her head. ‘I think it's time we all left.'

‘And what about Bret?' Sofie cried.

‘What can any of us do? He's on the road to Darwin.' She hoped to God he was. ‘I refuse to put my life on hold for him, and neither should you. He has my mobile number, and probably yours, which means, so do they. Better get a new number. If he or they ring me, I'll be safe in London…okay?' And she'd deal with them.

‘He's never had Claudia's and he doesn't have mine,' Sofie pointed out, looking a little sheepish.

‘Yeah,' Claudia informed. ‘A brat of a kid threw Mum's into the loo at school. No one's going to fish it out and use it after that.'

‘His punishment was to buy me a new one. Trouble is, it came with a new number, and I haven't had a chance to pass it on to Bret.'

‘You're safe then.' Jennifer sighed, feeling relieved, kind of. ‘I've got to get back, probate will take a while and life goes on. Bills have to be paid, that's how it is.'

‘Uncle Bob gave us money to see us through,' Sofie urged.

‘Yes, and it will help getting the shop's rewiring started. It's a massive hazard — huge.' Jennifer flung her arms out. ‘For the sake of the whole street not going up in flames, it needs doing without delay. Calum is the obvious choice, and I'm sure he can recommend a plumber. Give Calum the keys, I trust him to do the right thing.' Jennifer's heart flipped. A big word,
trust
. Then why was she running? Because she had commitments, a restaurant that was going to be the
in
place for the well-heeled to dine in London. It had been her dream for the past ten years.

‘And who's going to oversee the work?' Sofie asked.

Jennifer rubbed the back of her neck. She was letting Sofie down by leaving. ‘Calum will be there, I'm sure he's up to it. I'm sorry to rush off like this, Sofe, but I'd like a couple of days to recover from the flight. I don't want to be throwing knives around when I'm jetlagged. And probate will give us time to decide what we want to do.'

‘What about the wine in the cellar?' Sofie asked.

‘Get ready, Aunt Jen.' Claudia looked up from texting on her mother's mobile. ‘Mum's going to tell you
again
that she wants to do something with the shop.'

‘Sofie? What were you thinking — a bottle shop? A good quality one, of course.'

Sofie shook her head. ‘I don't think that will work, the locals will continue getting their wine at the pub. I haven't thought it through yet, but my brain's grabbed hold of several ideas and won't let go.'

‘Sofie, if there's anything you want to create with the shop, you can!'

Claudia pulled a pissed-off face. ‘Mum can. I'm staying near Manly and Skids.'

* * *

Nikolay arrived in Canberra, hot, tired, mean and nasty. After enduring the baking ute for nearly two days, he was ready to make mincemeat of anyone who crossed his path. First, he would kiss his wifey and swap this old bone-crushing oven-on-wheels for his air-conditioned embassy sedan.

Every time he recalled his last conversation with Boris, frustration rose like heartburn. Wifey might have to wait. Best blow off some steam and get his friend sorted first. He parked under the building in a reserved space that wasn't his, and didn't care. Lucky for Nikolay there was an empty lift waiting. He strode in, jabbed at the fourth floor button and with growing irritation waited for the doors to close.

Exiting the lift, he glared at his plush surroundings; he'd been working in a shit hole while everyone here worked in air-conditioned comfort. Nikolay's anger spiked and with a dismissive wave he strode past the receptionist. He hitched his pants up as he stomped down the hall. Reaching Boris's office, his blonde secretary Katya surged out of her chair and stuck her hand out to stop him from entering.

‘You cannot go in,' she ordered. ‘Go sit, wait in chair.'

‘He has person in office?'

‘
Nyet
. He asked not to be disturbed.'

‘That is
bullshiiit
.' Nikolay clipped Katya's hand away and ignored her protestations. He was in
no
mood to be nice. He turned the brass handle, and pushed the heavy timber door open and slammed it shut behind him on the advancing Katya.

Boris looked up. ‘Nicky.' He smiled, genuinely happy to see him. ‘Have you good news?'

‘No, I fry in bloody car, and drink bad, bloody wine, then fry in bloody car, watching bloody police and fry in bloody car. You okay, sit here in cool office while I fry on bloody pavement.'

Katya opened the door, fire in her eyes. She held one hand to the bump on her head, the other had a death grip on a long silver envelope opener. As she was about to speak, Boris waved her off with a backward flutter of his hand.

‘Katya, bring cold drinks, please.'

Katya glared at Nikolay, swung around on her black, patent leather stilettos and disappeared, closing the door firmly behind her.

Nikolay moved closer to the gleaming desk with its photographs in silver frames, and elaborate desk set. He took a chair by the picture window that overlooked the beautiful, lush garden.

‘You are my only hope, Nicky,' Boris pleaded.

‘I have done everything — everything — to find this photos, discs you talk about.' The sweat had dried on Nikolay's face, his shirt was crusted to his back and underarms. He flexed his shoulders in an attempt to get some relief. ‘There is nothing.
Nothing,
I tell you. He destroyed them before he kick bucket.'

Boris gasped, eyes wide, tears welling. He looked as if he were about to say something, then decided against it, shut his mouth and sucked on his bottom lip. Nikolay wondered what the hell was going on. There was no doubt Boris was in some sort of pain. Okay, he conceded, emotional pain. It must have something to do with that woman. Veronica.

Boris slumped back in his chair, which suddenly looked too big for him. He swung around to face the window. Nikolay moved to the side of the desk and stared at him. After a long pause, Boris pulled a monogrammed handkerchief out of his pocket, wiped his eyes and blew his nose. Nikolay had never seen such an emotional display over someone who'd died and a missing woman, neither of whom were relatives.