She hesitated. “It’s been quite a while.”
“And whoever he was, did he put you off men for life?”
“Something like that.”
“What happened?”
She looked at Aaron. Where was the harm in telling him? It seemed a long time ago
now. She exhaled, then turned away. “He was a womanizer through and through. Just
like you.”
“No, not like me. The difference is that I’ve only ever dated one woman at a time,
even if that time is limited.”
“Limited like a goldfish’s memory.”
“Even so, one woman at a time. Anything else is disrespectful. I do have some standards,
you know.”
She made a scoffing sound in her throat. “Well, I was gullible. I didn’t know any
better back then. Craig said lots of pretty words—” She stopped abruptly and her face
twisted. For one horrible moment she thought she was going to burst into tears, but
after a steadying breath or two, she said, “Anyway, when I confronted him about his
cheating, he laughed at me.”
Aaron grimaced. “Loser.”
“I’d only known him for a few months. He’d moved here from Queensland and was working
with my brother Rob. I couldn’t believe it when he noticed me. I thought all my birthdays
had come at once, and he made me feel special. I can’t believe I fell for it, but
I did. I let him sweet-talk me into believing we had an exclusive relationship. I
fell in love with him and even worse, I started planning the wedding—but only in my
head, of course.”
She shrugged. “And then I overheard him chatting up another woman while we were out
on a date and he thought I was in the bathroom. When she asked him about me, he told
her that I wasn’t important. That was when I realized romance means nothing at all.
It certainly doesn’t mean commitment.”
“You’re not still in love with him, are you?”
“No, I’m not.” She frowned. “I’m completely over him.”
“It doesn’t sound like it.”
“I am. I wouldn’t want him now, no matter what he offered. But that doesn’t mean I
want to repeat the experience.”
“So, you’re going to let one moron ruin your life?”
She lifted her chin. “It’s not ruined. I’m perfectly happy as a single person.”
After a brief silence, he said, “Me too. And we have some very good single role models.
The Lone Ranger, for instance.”
“The Lone Ranger had Tonto.”
“I heard they were just good friends.”
She blew out a breath. “You’re an idiot.”
“Me? Yeah, okay, I am. And you’re an idiot if you let Craig stop you from enjoying
your life, from having fun.”
“I don’t.”
“We’ve already established that you haven’t been living life to the full. If it’s
not because of Craig, what’s the reason?”
She didn’t answer, but in her heart she knew that he was right. She’d let Craig’s
actions affect her for too long.
Aaron laid the last picket on the pile and stood back to view their handiwork. “All
sorted.”
“Yes. Thanks. It shouldn’t take long to put up. I think it will be finished by lunchtime.”
After a pause, he said, “That’s handy. I’m going to take the boat out this afternoon.
Fancy coming along? We could have a bite to eat afterward. It could be a birthday
celebration.”
She didn’t even know he owned a boat, but then, he did live at the marina, so it made
sense that he might. She hadn’t been out on a boat for ages…not since the last fishing
holiday with her dad and brothers, and that was a long time ago. It was tempting.
But so was spending time with Aaron, and she’d already discovered how easy it was
to enjoy that too much. Then she’d spend the ensuing night lurching between anger
and the threat of pitiful tears. That was why she’d gone to the timber yard this morning
and bought the fence pickets. She’d needed something to focus on other than him.
His smile disappeared, and he looked unsure of himself. Vulnerable. Waiting for her
to agree to go out with him.
This is new
, she thought.
New and interesting
. Her heart twisted before righting itself. It seemed completely unlikely that Aaron
could be feeling anything like she was, but why else would he try to convince her
to go?
How could she say no? Why would she want to?
She cleared her throat. “Okay.”
He gave her a smile that made her light-headed, and the wicked glint in his eyes made
her wonder whether she had any chance of surviving this…this…whatever they were starting.
Her father’s car came into view at that moment. Once it was parked in the driveway,
Mitch got out and called, “Happy birthday, Jazzy!”
“Thanks,” she said, watching as Mitch opened the tailgate and unloaded a couple of
bags of cement.
Bernard strode over to them, eyeing Aaron. “So, you’re here again, are you?”
“Morning, Bernard,” Aaron said, returning his gaze steadily.
“Morning.” Bernard turned to her. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”
She stepped into her father’s hug. “Thanks for coming, Dad.”
“As if I wouldn’t.” He leaned back and looked into her eyes. “I wish you’d call on
me for help more often.”
“I will. I’m going to, Dad. Seriously.”
He gave a satisfied nod, then put her away from him with a pat on the shoulder. “Let’s
see what’s what here. Looks like we need some holes dug,” he said, pointing at the
white crosses she’d drawn with spray paint.
Mitch handed him a spade. Bernard passed it on to Aaron. “Come on, then, lad. Start
digging.”
Jasmine grinned at the comical expression on Aaron’s face as he took the spade from
her father, but then he stripped off his T-shirt and began digging, bare-chested,
muscles flexing and glistening. The sight of his smooth, lean back bent over a spade
made her mouth dry and she couldn’t think. When he turned around, it was no improvement
at all. The flat stomach, the muscular chest, the smattering of dark hair, combined
to convince her of one thing.
She was in trouble.
Chapter Thirteen
Heading down Anzac Highway toward the coast, Aaron said, “I should probably warn you…it’s
only a small boat. I don’t want you to be disappointed.”
“So, we’re talking about a dinghy, then?”
He looked across at her with a grin. “No, not quite. She’s a twenty-eight-foot sailboat,
built for racing.”
“Have you raced it—Her?”
“A few times, years ago, but it was too difficult to fit the races in around our work
schedule, so now I just take her out on the bay occasionally. The point is, if you
were expecting luxury, you’re in for a shock.”
“I think I’ll live. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly a princess.”
She did a mental eye roll at the name of his boat when she saw it.
Seriously Unhitched.
It—she—was moored in the Patawalonga Lake. The hull and furled sails were dark blue,
and everything else gleaming white. She let him help her aboard, his grasp warm and
firm, and she found herself standing in a very small space with very little daylight
between his body and hers.
“I told you it wasn’t very big,” he said, but the look in his eyes was unapologetic.
She couldn’t say she objected to the close quarters either.
“Why don’t you sit down here while I do what I need to?” He indicated a bench at the
rear of the boat, running along one side. “Then we can get underway.”
While he dealt with the mooring ropes, she watched the seagulls circling overhead,
studied the boats on either side of them, then gazed across at the apartment buildings.
When he plonked himself down on the bench opposite her, she said, “Which building
is your apartment in?”
“The one on the beach side. I have an unobstructed view of the ocean.”
“Nice. You can tell me to mind my own business, but how did you afford an apartment
like that on a firefighter’s salary?”
He shrugged. “I inherited some money, and it seemed like a good investment. You can
have a look at it after we’ve eaten, if you like.”
Her eyes narrowed, but Aaron held up his hands, palms facing her. “No ulterior motive.
I just thought you might like to see where I live while you’re down here.” He shrugged.
“If you don’t want to, no problem.”
She nodded. “I might as well; I might never get another chance. I just hope I don’t
find women’s underwear hanging from the light fittings.”
“Damn. I knew I should have tidied up this morning.”
She raised one eyebrow at him. He laughed then started the engine and used the tiller
to maneuver the boat through the weir gates that kept the once-tidal estuary at a
constant level, and out into the open sea.
There, he cut the engine and hoisted the sails. Jasmine offered to help, but he shook
his head. “This boat’s designed to be handled by one person. That’s why I love it.
That, and its speed.”
Back at the tiller, he showed her what the boat could do, and she was duly impressed.
Both by the boat, and by him. One minute he was squinting into the sun, concentrating,
and the next, he was grinning at her, clearly exhilarated. Suntanned, strong, and
sexy. How could she not enjoy watching him?
With the wind whipping the words from their mouths, there was little point in talking,
so she relaxed and gave herself over to pure, unfettered fun. And he was right; fun
hadn’t been high on her list of priorities for a long time.
Later, when Aaron had tied the boat to its mooring and they’d strolled to a nearby
restaurant for lunch, she said, “It’s been a long time. I’d forgotten how wonderful
it felt to be out on the ocean. Dad’s boat wasn’t built for speed, though. It was
a fishing runabout. We spent most of our time stationary, waiting for the fish to
bite.”
“Sailing’s great. I want to set up a sailing experience for the kids from the rehab
center. On a larger boat, of course. They’ll learn about the sails and rigging, and
they’ll have to work as a team, so it will be good for them as well as fun.”
“Rehab center? The paintball kids are from a rehab center?”
“Yes. Didn’t I mention that before?”
“I don’t recall hearing the word
rehab
.”
“They’re taking part in a residential rehabilitation program run by a volunteer organization.
Not all of them are there for substance abuse. Gambling, eating disorders, emotional
issues—they’re all life-controlling problems. Being in residential rehab gives them
a chance to mature into healthy members of society. They study, they work, they learn
to have fun, and they take part in physical exercise, especially activities that require
teamwork. As I said, volunteers run it and they do a great job. I’m just a part-time
helper.”
The cogs clicked into place in her brain. He hadn’t been trying to impress a woman
when he’d organized the outing for the kids; it was something he did on a regular
basis.
He picked up the menu, scanned it, and groaned. “Pretentious.” He gestured at the
laminated card. “Have a look at this. “Fruit compote. Isn’t that just stewed fruit?
Good grief, look at some of these descriptions. It probably takes longer to read the
menu than it does to eat the food. It’s as if they think that the more words they
use, the more they can charge.”
“I’m sure it will taste good, though,” she said, “and I’m starving now thanks to all
that sea air.” But Jasmine wasn’t going to be distracted by this talk of food. “I
thought you seemed to have a natural empathy with the kids. That’s because you used
to be just like them, isn’t it?”
He nodded. “Each of the kids meets with a personal mentor on a regular basis…that’s
my role. Plus, I help out as much as possible with the physical exercise part of the
program. We try to take them out on fun activities that provide a stimulating mental
challenge and, like I said, require an element of teamwork. We’ve done group orienteering,
a horseback cattle drive. Now paintball, which didn’t turn out so well.”
“You’re a mentor.”
He hesitated. “Sorry to disillusion you, but I don’t spend all of my time off trying
to pick up women.”
She was surprised, yes, but it made sense. She understood why Aaron was involved.
This was his way of giving something back, repaying the debt he believed he owed to
Joe, who’d mentored him and turned his life around. Interesting. Maybe there was more
to Aaron than she’d believed.
“You must get satisfaction from seeing the young people you’ve helped setting out
on a better life.”
“That’s what it’s all about. It’s well worth the minor inconvenience of giving up
a couple of days here and there.”
He said it with such conviction, she couldn’t doubt him.
Jasmine stood at the huge window watching waves roll onto the beach below, and the
usual assortment of beachgoers having fun in the sun. Children digging in the sand.
Frisbee throwers. Joggers. An elderly couple with a dog at their heels.
She heard Aaron behind her and turned to see him put two mugs of coffee on the low
table in front of the sofa. She wondered how many women he’d made coffee for here
in this apartment.
No, don’t think about it
.
“So, this is the type of home you like, is it? Modern…bare…”
“Is it bare?” He glanced around. “I don’t know what type of home I like. I bought
this place for the view, and you can’t deny it’s spectacular.”
She swung back to the window and the vast expanse of ocean. “No, can’t argue with
that.”
“Finally, something you can’t argue with.” After a moment, he said, “Coffee’s getting
cold.”
“Thanks.”
A large, red leather sofa dominated the room, and she took a seat at one end. Aaron
relaxed at the other, an arm stretched along the back of it, managing to look completely
at home—which he was—and sexy as hell.
After a sip of coffee, she looked pointedly at the light fitting. “All clear. Not
a G-string in sight.”
He gave her a wry smile. “Would you believe me if I said that I haven’t slept with
half as many women as you think I have?”
“No.”
Shrugging, he said, “Oh, well, I won’t waste my time telling you the truth, then.”
She sat up straighter. “The truth about what?”
“About my reputation. That it’s been…exaggerated.”
She moistened her lips. “Tell me.”
“You asked me the other day if I often made up stories about dates. Well, the guys…Dave
in particular…they build things up in their own minds, and there’s no point in telling
them they’re wrong because they won’t believe me. It’s easier to play along with it.”
He shook his head. “Maybe it’s because they have boring love lives of their own and
want to live vicariously through mine. I don’t know, but they prefer to believe that
I’ve had a wild one-night stand when in reality, it was just a pleasant night out.”
She gave him a narrow-eyed look.
“Hey, I’m not denying that I’ve dated a lot of women…all I’m saying is that I haven’t
slept with all of them. Well, not as many as you think.”
“Right.”
“I don’t know why I’m telling you this.” Aaron looked away, and then she saw him swallow.
“Actually, I think I do know.” He shook his head. “Shall we change the subject?”
Jasmine nodded. She wasn’t exactly sure what had just happened, but she didn’t trust
herself to speak until they were on a safer topic. She’d suddenly remembered that
Aaron’s bedroom was only the thickness of a stud partition wall away.
As she drank her coffee, she mused that she didn’t know much about him other than
his reputation, and now she’d learned that not all of it was true. He wasn’t likely
to offer up the information. If she wanted to know, she’d have to ask.
She plunged in. “Where’s your family?”
He looked up. “I don’t have one. I thought I already told you that?”
“Yes, you did, but I mean,
why
don’t you have one? Were you abandoned as a baby?”
“No.” His face contorted. “That might almost have been preferable, but no, I had the
perfect childhood. Two parents, one very happy little boy.”
“An only child?”
“Yes. And I must have been completely self-absorbed because when my father walked
out it was a complete shock to me. I had no idea that he wasn’t happy with us.”
“That doesn’t sound so unusual. Parents often hide their unhappiness from their children,
don’t they?”
He lifted a shoulder. “If that’s what he was doing, I wish he hadn’t bothered.”
“I don’t think you would have preferred it at the time.”
“No, maybe not. But I might have been prepared for him leaving if it had seemed like
a logical consequence of him being unhappy at home, and I might have kept a part of
myself back rather than loving him completely. Instead, I felt utterly abandoned when
he left, because I was certain that he didn’t love me enough to stay.”
She stared. It had never occurred to her that he might be carrying such old pain around
with him. “Did he keep in touch?”
“No, he didn’t. He simply disappeared. I don’t even know if he’s alive or dead.”
“But that doesn’t make sense. If he’d been pretending to be happy for your sake, he
must have loved you. Why would he just leave and never get in touch again?”
“My mother said he’d started another family in a different state and didn’t want to
be burdened with his old one.”
“I’m sorry.” She hesitated. “But your mother was still there for you, at least.”
“For a little while.”
He stared at the wall over her shoulder. His eyes were blank. She’d stirred up unhappy
memories, she realized, and her stomach tied itself in a knot. She was about to tell
him to forget about answering when he said, “Her heart had been crushed, though, and
before long she started looking for ways to cope. She turned to alcohol first, then
whatever she could get her hands on to numb the pain.”
Jasmine drew in a careful, shallow breath. “Is she still alive?”
He shook his head.
“How old were you?”
“About fifteen. Old enough to be independent. But in effect, she’d been gone for a
long time by then, so it barely made a difference to my life when she died. She’d
forgotten I existed, so I’d already learned to look after myself.” He shrugged. “Not
very well, as it happens.”
“Until Joe found you and straightened you out.”
“Yes.”
Pain flashed across his face.
“And then he died too,” she said softly.
“Yes.”
The two people he’d loved, and who were supposed to love him, had both abandoned him
without a backward glance. He’d been let down badly, and the experience would have
stayed there inside him eating away at his ability to trust people not to leave. Joe’s
death would have been reinforcement, if he’d needed it, that anyone he let himself
get close to would desert him. Yes, she could see why he’d find it difficult to let
himself love again.
She must have been stupid not to realize that he’d been hurt deeply. But then, he’d
never displayed any weakness, so how could she have known? She should have been able
to see, though, at least that he wasn’t the impenetrable fortress he pretended to
be.
Comprehension prickled at the base of her neck. The adult version of that little boy
who’d been abandoned was doing exactly what he’d said—keeping a part of himself back.
That was why he chose the type of women he did; what they had in common was that they
were undemanding and didn’t expect him to unlock that part and share it with them.
They were content with mutual entertainment and no real attachment.
The realization that Aaron wasn’t a serial dater because it was his nature, but because
the pain he’d experienced had made him that way, brought a lump the size of Tasmania
to her throat. He was much more complicated than she’d believed. She understood him
better now, but that didn’t make him any less dangerous to her heart.
Having put her coffee mug on the low glass table, she stood, saying, “I should get
back.”
Aaron got to his feet too. “All right. I’ll get my keys.” But he made no move toward
them. “I hope you’ve had a good time?”