Husband Stay (Husband #2) Page 5

  “Okay. Good girl.” She sat back down. “Let’s try this again. Why are you still thinking about Jack?”

  Just say it. It’s why you’re here. “He’s sexy. I felt heat between us. He turned me on. I wondered what it would be like to have sex with him.” I waited for Jill’s reaction.

  “Progress. Good.” She nodded and took a sip of her wine. “So what’s your reason for not wanting a one-night-stand with him?”

  “I just…I don’t want to do that. I want babies.”

  “Sure.” She leant across the table and touched my hand. “And if he’s not a nice person, he’s no candidate to be their daddy.”

  I felt bad for letting her think he was a drunk when the nurse had told me it was only the medication making him say…sexy things. But to me, Jack was a symptom. He wasn’t the problem I needed to deal with. It was my own sexuality that needed clarifying. Was I going to embrace it, or sideline it for the sake of having a family?

  Jill wasn’t privy to my thought process, so she went on with, “But it’s great that your libido is alive and well. That’s a good sign.”

  I shook my head. “I know you’ll be able to do hot sex and also be a mamma, but I don’t think I can. I think… I can only do one or the other.”

  Her smile grew sad. “Is that why you settled on Danny?” She frowned. “I know your parents wanted little brown babies, but I thought you wanted him too.”

  I shrugged, feeling distanced from the whole thing now. Alcohol offered such a comforting buffer. “I did love him. He would have been a good daddy.”

  “But not a hot lover.” It wasn’t a question.

  I shook my head. “He…I wasn’t satisfied.”

  “Regularly?” Her voice was gentle, as if she was scared her question would spook me.

  “Yes.” All the time. “But I didn’t miss out. I mean, I know how to…”

  “I’m guessing you didn’t do that in front of him.”

  Despite the alcohol haze I could feel my cheeks heating up. “No.”

  “So you waited until you were alone.”

  “Yes.” I lurched to my feet. “And that’s all I can talk about now. I need to sleep.”

  She stood with me. “Sure honey.” And I was surprised by how easily she let me off the hook. But I was grateful when she took me to the guest room she’d made up with fresh sheets and towels.

  I had my own bathroom, which was great, and when I said, “I didn’t sleep last night,” she tisked in a motherly fashion and insisted on helping me get into pajamas, even though it was two in the afternoon. Then she put my toiletries out for me while I went off and peed, and when I came back into the bathroom she handed me a loaded toothbrush.

  “Have a nap,” she instructed. “But don’t worry if you sleep through dinner. I’ll put leftovers in the fridge for you. Grab them anytime. Finn and I are at the other end of the bungalow, so we won’t hear you.”

  I spat toothpaste into the sink. “You’re a good friend, Jill.” Unfortunately, I was sliding toward melancholy. I really needed to be unconscious.

  She shook her head. “I wasn’t around when you found out about Danny’s vasectomy. I should have been.”

  I opened my mouth to argue that I hadn’t told anyone, but she cut over me.

  “I’m not letting you cope with this alone.” She grabbed both my shoulders and I smiled a foamy toothpaste smile at her. “Between the two of us we’ll work this out, okay?”

  I nodded.

  “I know I usually solve problems by jumping off the cliff and working out what to do on the way down.” She frowned. “So if it was me I’d jump into bed with Jack and see where it led. That isn’t going to suit you. I get that. But there will be other options.”

  I nodded at her mid-afternoon wisdom, far too sleepy to have any response of my own.

  So I rinsed and spat while Jill said, “Have a siesta and try to relax. Tomorrow we’ll be with Fritha, and you know how exhausting she is. I can’t imagine how hyped up she’ll be at the launch. She’s waited a million years to run a teashop.”

  I wiped my mouth on my towel and said, “Okay. And let’s not rehash this? It is what it is. Unless you can think of something brilliant, let’s not belabor it?”

  She nodded, then led me to the lovely soft guest bed with its crisp white sheets and feather-light quilt. When she’d tucked me in and kissed my cheek I closed my eyes, not even noticing the sound of the door as she left. My brain was locked onto the soothing whoosh of the Pacific Ocean breaking onto the sand right outside the bungalow. My arm was starting to ache but I wasn’t taking painkillers on top of alcohol, so I drifted into slumber instead.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “Oh my god, is that Noah Steele?” I stood blinking as the hunky Hollywood star elbowed his way good naturedly through Bohemian Brew’s crowd of opening night attendees on his way to the bar, which on Monday would be returned to a cake counter.

  I’ll be singing in front of Noah Steele!

  Jill shrugged nonchalantly, but I could see the smirk she was trying to hide. “Finn consults for one of his companies, so he sent him an invitation. Noah’s got a cattle property around here, but I didn’t think he’d come.”

  I gazed adoringly at the actor’s broad back until he was lost in the crowd. I’d never sung in front of a celebrity before. Around us, the other attendees wore suits and cocktail frocks, looking out of place amid the Moroccan décor in shades of pink and salmon and olive with plush cushioned booths.

  Middle Eastern rugs and wall hangings in colors of jewels and spices complimented the dark wooden furniture and elegant wall sconces. Jill must have been thrilled that her investment looked so gorgeous, but I wasn’t letting her get away with sounding pretentious.

  “Listen to you, all blasé calling him Noah. That’s Mr. Steele to you, or have you met him before?”

  She laughed and shook her head, her glossy brown hair sliding over the shoulders of her charcoal silk trench coat. Coupled with a pair of killer red heels and Scarlet Johansson red lips, she looked like she belonged at a Hollywood premiere.

  In sharp comparison, my favorite Punjabi suit—an apple green tunic with gold flecks over matching loose pants with narrow ankles—was topped with a gold scarf to hide my cast, and looked more of a fit for a hippy town like Belandera, especially with my long dark hair pulled into a side ponytail that Jill had fussed over.

  She was still grinning when she said, “Pretty bloody exciting having him here. Louella will be livid that she missed it. Plus, it will get us some national press.” The mention of us reminded me that while Bohemian Brew was Fritha’s brainchild, it had been Jill’s money funding it, courtesy of her stint as a husband sitter, being paid by wives to sleep with their husbands.

  I knew Finn had gotten over his jealousy about that, but I couldn’t help suspecting he might wonder how he compares. I certainly knew that if I got into a sexual situation again, I’d be comparing Danny’s lovemaking.

  Not that I wanted to. Oh no. I was more than pleased to forget all about sexy Jack whoever he was, and his stunning chest. Far easier to look after my own needs while fantasizing about unreachable hunks like Noah Steele, who Jill was still ogling. It threw me back twenty years to when we’d both had crushes on him.

  I couldn’t help asking, “Can we meet him?” Jill was right. Louella would be furious that her inconvenient bout of the flu had sidelined her. It wasn’t often that I had the celebrity experience and not her.

  “Ab-so-bloody-lutely,” Jill declared, and grabbed my good hand. “He can sign your cast.” She dragged me toward him and I felt my cheeks flush with excitement, but Fritha got to him first, all stick-insect arms, freckles and crazy red curls.

  “Noah!” she squealed, as if they were long lost pals.

  He turned from talking to Finn and faced her as she launched herself into his arms. Jill and I both propped, watching as he swirled her around, laughing, and landed her back on her bare feet, her uniform of a bright orange sundress still swirl
ing for a second as she righted herself.

  We held back as they chatted and Fritha called one of her waitresses over, then she showed Noah to a booth she’d apparently set aside for celebrities, and which already contained some local politicians and a sculptor. She finally noticed us waiting and waved us over, introducing us and embarrassing me horrendously by telling Noah I was the next big thing.

  I stared at her, open-mouthed, thinking she was the most audacious creature I’d ever met. But he just grinned back and looked me up and down, making me wish—yet again—that I’d been wearing something more glamorous.

  “She’s Australia’s Indian Diva,” Fritha added proudly.

  I loved her, but really? I wanted to slap a hand over that mouth.

  “Is she now?” Noah asked, with that larrikin smile of his, leaning back in his seat. “Is she singing today?”

  Fritha grabbed my good arm. “Right now in fact. Maybe you two can do a duet.”

  I smiled at her graciously but the bottom was falling out of my stomach. A duet with Noah Steele?

  “What’s she singing?” he asked.

  I opened my mouth to rattle off the laid-back jazz numbers Jill had asked for, but Fritha interrupted by waving an airy hand. “Renee Geyer covers.”

  What the hell?

  Noah leant forward, suddenly intent. “I love Renee Geyer.”

  He’d been a child of the seventies growing up in Sydney. Had he seen her perform live? Had Fritha known that? I’d grown up singing along to Renee Geyer albums because she was my mother’s favorite—Fritha knew that—but I hadn’t practiced any of those numbers lately. And to be singing them in front of Noah Steele… The fact that he loved Renee Geyer added to the pressure. What if I didn’t do her songs justice?

  I could feel Jill’s reassuring hand on my back, so I swallowed down apprehension and turned to Fritha. “Let’s get started.”

  Jill introduced herself to Noah as I turned away, but I was busy concentrating on following Fritha through the chattering crowd who were sipping tea, coffee and cocktails. The front corner of the huge shop had a stage and a microphone for the speeches, which I’d already checked out and done a sound check on.

  When we arrived there, she turned to face me. “How bloody exciting is this?”

  I gripped her shoulder with my good hand to get her attention and said, “It will be thrilling if you have any sort of backing music for these numbers.” I gave her a meaningful glance.

  Unfortunately for me, her gaze drifted off. “Right…”

  I let my fingers bite into her shoulder. “Fritha, I love you. You know that. But I’m not singing Renee Geyer into a silent room. I’m not Barbara Streisand.”

  “I’ll get Finn.”

  I closed my eyes in defeat. Why on earth would Finn have backing music? But instead of panicking, I practiced slow breathing while I waited for her to come back.

  Finn grinned at me. “Noah Steele.”

  I nodded. “Bloody hell.”

  “So what do you need?”

  “Instrumental soundtracks to Renee Geyer songs.”

  He nodded and pulled out his phone. I watched in amazement as he found what I was looking for on iTunes, the very album my mother had loved as a teenager. I’d heard it so often I knew every word by heart. He picked the instrumental selection and plugged his phone into the sound system. “Ready when you are.”

  It had taken ninety seconds.

  Fritha winked at me. “Sister Carmel would approve.”

  The nun who’d taught us in high school had tried to drum into us to marry a practical man. At the time it had sounded like odd advice from a spinster, but I could certainly appreciate it now.

  “Thank you Finn,” I said. A huge understatement.

  “Just give me a nod and I’ll set the album to play.”

  Fritha grabbed the microphone and shushed everyone, then she told them that Noah had requested some songs and I was obliging. That got a huge round of applause, but before I was ready, the room was silent and I was hearing the opening bars of It’s a Man’s, Man’s World.

  I licked my lips and swallowed, and somehow, miraculously, my nerves slid away. Unlike my debacle at the club, this time I soared. I could literally feel myself lift inside as the lyrics poured through me of love and loss and vulnerability.

  When I’d been married to Danny, it had been a man’s world—his world. We’d done everything the way he wanted it. My life was different now, and as I negotiated the highs and lows of the song, I poured all my confusion and grief into it. It was meant to be a bitter song, but I wasn’t bitter at Danny. I was just…lost.

  So I sang that, and when the final note fell, the shop broke into pandemonium. I could see Noah at the back, whooping and whistling as everyone else applauded, and even Finn was gazing at me in shock, so captivated that he didn’t hold the next song back. As the opening bars swelled, Fritha was forced to whistle with two fingers in her mouth to quieten the room.

  While I sang, Noah pushed his way to a front table, which the patrons gladly shared, and when I reached my favorite song on the album, Since I fell for you, he joined me on stage and we sang with his arm around my waist.

  I could see people recording it on their phones, Jill among them. But I was caught in the moment, living my own personal fantasy of singing lyrics that touched me, to an audience who were moved by them.

  When the album finished, I was so high I could have flown home to Sydney without a plane. People were asking me what name I sang under because they couldn’t find my albums on iTunes, and Noah made a point of hugging his Beautiful Indian Diva as he left.

  Sometime later Jill pulled me away from well-wishers to give me back my silver purse with its long shoulder strap. I slung over my head and across my chest so it would be lost in the folds of my scarf, then she put a daiquiri into my hand and we both grinned like loons.

  “Bloody hell,” she said, and we grinned some more. Then she nodded toward Finn. “Noah’s sending Finn the contact details of an agent he wants you to ring. An agent!”

  I blinked in shock, but instead of feeling even more elated, that brought me back to earth. Did I want an agent? The girls had always expected me to be a star, but I’d never wanted that. I’d wanted babies with Danny and an occasional stint at the club. With one dream lost, was another about to come true?

  “Bloody hell,” I repeated, because I didn’t know what else to say.

  “I know. Right?”

  Fritha came and threw a stick-insect arm around both of us for a group hug. Then she winked at me. “And just when you thought life didn’t get any better, I’ve got a gorgeous specimen at the bar asking if he can talk to you.”

  Jill’s eyes lit up. “Want me to scope him out first? Check him for facial hair?”

  Fritha shook her head. “Smooth as a baby’s bottom. And chiseled.”

  I felt a flicker of nerves—I hadn’t expected this sort of attention—but I raised an eyebrow as though I was interested. “Chiseled. Nice.”

  Jill grabbed my good arm. “Let me be your wingman. I’ll be discreet.”

  Fritha snorted at the very idea, then she turned to me. “His name is Jack. He said—”

  “Jack?” Jill practically shouted.

  Fritha shook her head in disgust. “Very discreet,” but I was too busy searching the crowd to pay attention to her, and in the end he was easy to spot even though he was behind me because he was almost a head taller than anyone else. And thankfully not looking my way.

  Sweet Shiva, the moment I saw him I felt weak. It was a complete cliché, but when he smiled politely at someone edging past him and I saw those sexy crows’ feet beside his eyes, coupled with the white teeth and his amazing span of shoulders in a suit—a suit! I just wanted to puddle, right there.

  Jill had an arm around me in an instant. “Breathe,” she instructed quietly, leaning in close. “He can’t see you here. We can go if you want.”

  “What?” Fritha pushed between us as I turned back to fa
ce them. “He seems nice.”

  “He is nice,” I said softly.

  Jill shook her head. “You told me—”

  I looked into her eyes at close range. “I lied. He wasn’t drunk. I just didn’t want you to match-make. I’m not ready.”

  “Okay.” She nodded, clearly surprised, but calm about my deceit. “So he’s nice. But you still have options. Do you want to meet him now, or—”

  “Angela?”

  She stopped talking to look up at someone behind me, and despite the fact that his voice wasn’t as gravelly as it had been in the hospital, I recognized the deep drawling tone, and for the first time I registered that it sounded like home.

  The nurse had told me he was from the outback, but I’d been so prejudiced against him, I hadn’t wanted to acknowledge the fact that we were kindred. We both came from country towns. We both spoke with that unmistakable country Queensland drawl.

  Jill’s expression went carefully blank as she said, “Jack, I presume,” and she held out her hand. “I’m Jill.” She smiled at the irony as they exchanged a brief handshake. Then she met my gaze. “I’ll be at the bar if you need me.”

  “Sure.”

  My voice sounded small and frightened. Which was crazy. When I’d stopped singing, I’d been so full of life that I’d felt like I was somehow bigger than the room. Was I that terrified of lust?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Jack stepped around in front of me as Jill dragged Fritha away, and because of the crowd in Bohemian Brew, he was close enough for me to smell his aftershave. It could have been pond slime and I would have thought it was sexy, but the fact that it had a faint undercurrent of sandalwood caught me down low.

  He was big, towering over me in my low heels, and without the terrible facial hair, he looked impossibly handsome in his charcoal suit with a beautifully understated silver tie.

  “Hello.” He smiled tentatively, as if he wasn’t sure how I’d react. “Finally we meet when I’m not full of drugs.”

  My breathing was suddenly choppy and I could feel my face warming up, from embarrassment or arousal, I wasn’t sure.