Before Page 6

  “Come on, Jess, don’t pull the Aussie-ism versus Americanism card now. You know what I mean.”

  She tilted her head up in defiance and it made me want her all the more. “How do you know anything happened?”

  “Don’t do that.” I jabbed a finger at her. “Don’t treat me like I’m some hick, ignorant dickhead who can’t read people.”

  When her lips compressed in a mutinous line, I stepped forward, close enough I could smell a soft floral fragrance. Lilacs. Delicate and elegant, like her.

  If I’d hoped to intimidate her into telling me the truth, it didn’t work, because she merely tilted her head back to glare at me.

  Looked like I’d have to give a little to get a little back.

  “Want to know how I got so good at reading people? Spend ten years in the foster system and you soon learn when arse-holes are lying to you or not.”

  Her expression softened. “What happened to your folks?”

  “Dad shot through when I was four, Mum when I was six. I was a rotten brat.” At least, that was the guilt trip Mum used to lay on me for the reason Dad left. What was her excuse?

  Sadness downturned Jess’s mouth. “I’m sorry.”

  She touched my arm and I tried not to flinch. I couldn’t have her touching me, not when I wanted to touch her so badly I ached.

  “I don’t need your pity, but maybe now you can understand why I want to know what happened at your college?” Unable to resist, I snagged a strand of her hair and wound it around my finger. “And I know it’s something bad by the way you completely shut down in the car when study buddies were mentioned.”

  “You’re very observant,” she said, her gaze transfixed on my finger as I wound her hair tighter and tighter before releasing it when I got too close to the tender skin above her ear.

  “Occupational hazard.” I scrunched up my face, pretending to think. “Having to keep the broccoli from bullying the beans, the squash from beeting the pumpkin, get it?”

  Her soft laughter made me want to hold her. “That’s a woeful pun.”

  I touched her forearm and I swore I heard her sigh. “Tell me.”

  Indecisive, she nibbled on her bottom lip, and it took every ounce of my willpower not to do the same.

  “Jess?” I slid my fingers down her forearm to her hand, where I threaded my fingers through hers.

  I had no idea why I did it. I didn’t go for handholding. Not that I had girlfriends long enough to do it.

  “A guy I trusted, my closest study buddy, tried to rape me.” Her flat, emotionless monotone spoke volumes. She’d tried to block it out.

  I squeezed her hand so hard she yelped and I released her as rage consumed me. I wanted to beat the bastard to a pulp. Crush him without mercy. Kick his head in.

  “It didn’t get too far before I escaped, but the fact it happened in the first place?” She shook her head. “I’m such an idiot.”

  “No you’re not—”

  “I trusted that slime ball!” she yelled and Dundee sidestepped.

  “Sorry, fella.” She patted Dundee’s neck. “I thought I knew him and I didn’t know him at all, which really makes me doubt my own judgment.”

  Not only had this prick assaulted her, he’d made her question herself. I could definitely kill him with my bare hands.

  “Nothing wrong with your judgment.” I forced myself to relax, to allow my anger to dissipate. “You’re here with me, aren’t you?”

  She managed a small smile, just as I intended. “So now you know. Happy?”

  “Considering what I want to do to that fucktard for hurting you, I’m so far from happy it’s not funny.” I recaptured her hand. “But some good did come out of it.”

  “What?”

  “We’ve moved past the outdoor shower scene moment and have actually connected as friends.”

  The moment the words tumbled from my mouth I wanted to slap myself upside the head. We weren’t friends. We could never be anything more than passing acquaintances.

  But having her trust me with something so important made me feel closer to Jess than I had to anyone in a long time, if ever.

  “Friends.” She shook my hand like a buddy, her tremulous smile making my heart do a weird jive. “Who ride pillion.”

  I laughed. “Lady, you drive a hard bargain.”

  “Cookie, you have no idea.”

  “Cookie?”

  “My nickname for you. You cook, right?”

  I’d never had a nickname before and it touched me. “Plus I’m sweet and delectable.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “And edible,” I added, determined to get back onto familiar territory, with the two of us sparring with an underlying hint of sexuality.

  Nicknames implied intimacy and closeness, two things I couldn’t afford to have with Jess. No matter how much I might secretly crave them.

  She released my hand and shoved me away. “Yeah, but like the real thing, too much will make me puke.”

  God, I loved how quick she was. I could easily fall for Jess as more than a friend, which would be the ultimate act in masochism.

  She was leaving in two weeks. She was a girl so far out of my league I’d need a stepladder to get up there. And her brother was doing me a massive favor.

  Three sane reasons to keep my distance.

  Pity I’d never been any good at sanity.

  Chapter Thirteen

  JESS

  When would I learn?

  Daring Jack to let me ride pillion had been a deliberate ploy to rattle him at the time. But now? With my arms wrapped around him, my body on fire from our proximity and the pure male scent of him filling my senses? I was the one seriously rattled.

  Not that the last ten minutes hadn’t been exhilarating, galloping through the station’s grounds and beyond, mile after mile of arid beauty. I didn’t know where to look first so kept my cheek firmly pressed against Jack’s back.

  Now that we’d slowed to a trot, I could hear my thoughts again above Dundee’s pounding hooves. And they weren’t pretty.

  Why did I blab all that stuff about Dave? I barely knew Jack and all we did was try to score points off each other. Yet when he’d said we were friends? I could’ve hugged him. Having him share some of his past with me had precipitated my verbal diarrhea, I knew that, but how did it happen that I felt closer to Jack than I did with any of my college friends?

  Two semesters at UNLV and I still couldn’t name one person I would’ve told about Dave…bar Dave. And that’s what irked the most, that the one guy I’d chosen to trust as a friend in my freshman college year had turned out to be anything but.

  “We’ll stop here and eat.” Jack reined in Dundee near the bottom of a small valley and I let the peacefulness wash over me.

  It was like Jack and I were the only two people in the world.

  “You can let go of me now,” he said, clearing his throat.

  “And spoil my fun?” I gave him a tight squeeze, akin to a Heimlich maneuver, and chuckled when I heard his ooph.

  I swung my leg over Dundee’s rump and slid to the ground. My butt ached, my back twinged and my legs wobbled, but as I watched Jack’s mighty fine ass as he dismounted, it was so worth it.

  He turned and caught me staring, a slow grin spreading across his face. “What is it with you and my nether regions?”

  Damn, I was busted. “Maybe they’re so impressive I can’t help but stare?”

  “I’m flattered, but don’t waste your time.” He busied himself making Dundee comfortable, leaving me to ponder what he meant.

  “A girl can’t look?”

  “Looking is fine. Touching isn’t,” he muttered, sounding increasingly grouchy as he gave Dundee a final pat and started setting out the picnic he’d packed.

  “Why’s that?”

  He glanced up from the blanket he’d spread on the ground. “Because I won’t be your holiday fling.”

  Guess that meant I couldn’t tell him he’d be my first, too.

>   “Surprising.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Why? Because you think a bum like me would have sex with any woman who crossed my path?”

  Wow, there was way more going on here than me making a flippant remark and him taking it out of context.

  I held up my hands. “Whoa. PMS, much?”

  Some of his tension eased as I glimpsed a flicker of a smile. “Sorry, you hit a nerve.”

  I wanted to know more, despite doubting the wisdom of prodding him when he was in a mood. “Because you’ve been sleeping your way across the east coast of Australia?”

  “Something like that,” he said, through gritted teeth, as he resumed laying the picnic out.

  If I’d been curious before, I was positively intrigued now. Considering the Chris Hemsworth thing he had going on, I wasn’t surprised he’d never lack for willing partners in bed. Jack was seriously gorgeous. But rather than being proud of the fact like most egotistical guys would be, he sounded…disgusted.

  “And this is a problem because?”

  “Drop it,” he said, sitting on the edge of the rug and hugging his knees to his chest. “You don’t see me asking you the number of guys you’ve been with.”

  “That’s because there’ve been none,” I muttered, stomping toward the rug and hating that I was insanely jealous of the number of faceless women he’d probably had amazing, rampant, climb-the-walls sex with.

  He sat bolt upright, like the Eastern brown snakes I feared, courtesy of Bluey’s descriptive lectures on our arrival, had bitten his ass. “What did you just say?”

  “Nothing.” Me and my big mouth. As if an experienced guy like him would ever come near me now.

  “You’re a virgin?” He made it sound like I was an alien.

  “So what?” I thrust my chin up, trying to stare him down. “Not everyone can be a man whore like you.”

  He winced and I was instantly contrite. “Sorry, that was out of line.”

  “The truth hurts,” he said, picking up a loaf of bread and ripping great chunks off with his hands. “Not that I’m quite as bad as you make me sound, but I’m done with transient flings.”

  “Too bad,” I said, deliberately droll, trying to get the conversation onto familiar teasing territory. “Would’ve been great to have an experienced guy like you take care of that little virginity problem I’ve got.”

  His gaze locked on mine and I could’ve sworn I saw electricity arc between us.

  “You’re not serious?” He stared at my mouth and I swallowed against the inane urge to leap over the picnic rug and kiss him.

  “Deadly.”

  After what seemed like an eternity but in reality couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, he swiped a hand over his face. Yeah, like that would wipe away the blatant yearning I’d just glimpsed.

  “I’m not the guy for you, Jess,” he said, holding his palms out to me like he had nothing to hide. “I’m not worth it.”

  “Do you actually believe that bullshit you’re spouting or is it just an excuse because you’re not really attracted to me?”

  There, I’d voiced my number one insecurity when it came to guys, particularly this one. Was I attractive? I didn’t have big boobs or long legs or hourglass curves. I had brown hair, brown eyes and was average height. When I looked in the mirror, I thought I looked okay. Nice. Which was about as bland as anyone could get.

  “You’re frigging nuts.” He leaped to his feet and started pacing, scuffing at eucalypt bark with his worn boots. “What you saw after I showered? A damn good indication how attractive I find you.”

  Secretly thrilled, I shrugged. “Could’ve just been a physiological reaction. Don’t you wake up with it like that?”

  He muttered, “fuck,” and continued pacing. “For someone who hasn’t been with a guy, you sure know a lot about our working parts.”

  It was my turn to smile. Did he think I was that innocent he couldn’t call a cock a cock?

  “So you do think I’m attractive?”

  In response he stopped a good eight feet away, as if scared I’d suddenly launch myself at him. “I’m not discussing this with you.”

  “Why?”

  He pointed down below. “Because if we don’t stop talking about it, I won’t be able to get back on Dundee to make the return trip.”

  I stared at the obvious bulge in his jeans. “Oh.”

  “And in case you were wondering? I think that more than answers your question,” he said, sitting on the rug as far from me as he could. “I can’t even talk about being attracted to you without getting a hard-on.”

  “Considering you won’t let me do anything about it, I guess we shouldn’t talk about it then.” I clasped my hands in my lap, the epitome of prim, when inside I was doing a happy dance.

  A sexy, worldly guy like Jack was attracted to me.

  Now I had to figure out how to change his mind about not coming near me.

  Chapter Fourteen

  JACK

  I’m an idiot. A moron. A complete dickhead.

  That’s the only explanation for continuing to hang out with Jess.

  As if the horse ride two days ago hadn’t been torture enough. Physically, mentally and emotionally. It’s damn uncomfortable riding with a hard-on, as I’d discovered the moment she swung up behind me, wrapped arms around me, and hung on like her life depended on it.

  I’d felt every little shift in position she made, heard every little sigh. And savored the illicit contact like a parched guy stumbling across a billabong in a desert.

  For despite taking a blatant stand about us only ever being friends, I wanted that sweet, sexy girl with every cell in my horny body.

  As if there weren’t enough reasons to keep my hands off, discovering she was a virgin topped my list of not getting involved. I was a bastard, but not so much of a bastard that I’d take advantage of her holiday crush.

  I should’ve known. She wore that untouched air like her fine clothes. A hint of vulnerability beneath her sass. It was addictive.

  And wrong.

  Something I’d have to remember tonight, when I put myself through another torture session. Jess had invited herself over and I hadn’t had the heart—or the balls—to say no.

  We should’ve been uncomfortable after our revelations on the ride. Instead, we’d spent the last two days hanging out when I wasn’t working. We’d talked about anything and everything from politics to religion to our favorite music. Which is what led her here tonight.

  Jess was clueless about classic Aussie rock. I was going to indoctrinate her. My excuse; I was sticking to it.

  A knock sounded at the door. “You in there, Cookie?”

  That was another thing I liked but pretended not to. Having her call me Cookie seemed to solidify our bond.

  “Door’s open,” I called out, waiting until she stepped into the shack before hitting play on my iPod.

  I smirked as she jumped five feet when INXS’s Original Sin ripped from the speakers.

  “That’s loud,” she mouthed, covering her ears with her hands.

  “Only way to listen to amazing music like this,” I shouted, beckoning her in and kicking shut the door behind her. “You’ll see.”

  “What?” She cupped her ear. “I can’t hear you.”

  I grinned and cranked up the music, grabbed her hand and spun her around.

  She laughed, a joyous sound that made my chest ache with wanting her, so I settled for working out my frustration by dancing like a crazy person.

  I lost count of the number of songs we danced to, and I couldn’t help but admire a girl who matched me throughout Cold Chisel’s Khe Sanh, Daddy Cool’s Eagle Rock, and AC/DC’s You Shook Me All Night Long move for move. She jumped and shimmied and bumped with me through Skyhooks, Australian Crawl, Mondo Rock, Hunters and Collectors, and Midnight Oil. She didn’t know any of the songs but she didn’t care. She got into the spirit of music idols triple our age, until we could barely breathe.

  Then Crowded House’s Don’
t Dream It’s Over filtered through the speakers and I wanted to hit stop ASAP.

  Slow dancing with Jess would kill me.

  She must’ve seen the indecision on my face because she positioned herself between the iPod and me, ensuring I’d have to reach around her to shut the bloody thing off.

  Then she went one step further.

  She closed the distance between us, wrapped her arms around my neck and rested her cheek against my chest.

  I couldn’t push her away.

  I had no choice but to wrap my arms around her waist, rest my chin on her head and just feel. Feel her heart pounding in rhythm with mine. Feel her soft curves. Feel her hair tickling my nose. Feel like I could do this forever.

  We swayed together and I wanted to imprint this moment on my memory. Did I feel like a needy chick? Hell yeah. But this girl was special and I may not get another chance to hold her in my arms like this. In fact, I wouldn’t. I couldn’t.

  When the last haunting strains of Neil Finn’s voice faded, I eased back.

  Our faces were so close. And damn if Jess wasn’t staring at me with blatant adoration, her cheeks flushed, her lips parted.

  I wanted to kiss her. I should kiss her.

  But I’d sworn I wouldn’t give into mindless urges anymore, especially not with a girl who deserved so much more than I could give her.

  “Thirsty?” I released her and turned away so I wouldn’t have to deal with the hurt in her eyes. “We worked up quite a sweat.”

  She laid a hand on my shoulder. “Jack?”

  I knew what she was asking. With that simple touch, she was asking what the hell was going on between us, but fucked if I could give her the answer she wanted.

  “I’ll get us a couple of soft drinks, unless you prefer beer?” I stepped away and she followed me.

  “Soda’s fine,” she said, sounding surprisingly calm when I half expected her to push the issue with the way we’d danced. “Now that you’ve educated me with your music, time for me to educate you with iconic romantic movies.”

  “Chick flicks,” I said, sounding suitably disgusted, when in fact I’d watched a few and enjoyed them. Wasn’t much to do in the outback after dark so I went through DVDs like Mrs. Gee went through sugar. And I wasn’t ashamed to admit I sniffled during The Notebook, my closet favorite.

  “Not a chick flick. The chick flick,” she said, as I returned to the pokey makeshift lounge room/bedroom to find her brandishing a DVD of Dirty Dancing. “Seen it?”