A Touch Of Frost (3 page)

“Really.” Jack grinned, overly pleased with how close their homes were. “That’s fortunate.”

“Oh?”

“It means we can enjoy a bottle of wine with dinner and neither of us have to worry about driving home.” He walked to the door and shoved his key in the lock. “Do you like red or white?”

“Either works for me.”

Jack led the way into his house. The rooms were still pretty bare. He’d left everything with Annabelle when they’d separated. It was a shock for him to realise he hadn’t picked one piece of the furniture that had filled their home. When he cut from his past he’d made the break with nothing but a few favourite suits, his underwear, and the casual clothes his wife had always frowned at.

He smiled. It felt good to be the only one to decide what he wore or how he furnished his home. He’d never admit it to anyone, but he’d pandered to Annabelle in a way he was ashamed of. No woman would ever have that level of control over him again.

“Wow. You should fire your decorator.”

Jack glanced back to see Elle smiling at him. “I’d need to hire one first and that isn’t
ever
going to happen.”

“Oh, I sense a story in that declaration.”

He rubbed a hand on his chin. “I might tell you at dinner, but first, let’s pick a bottle of wine.”

“We’re picking the wine here?” Elle followed him into the kitchen.

“Yep. Plenty to chose from.” Jack waved his hand at the two wine fridges he’d had installed. That was the other thing he hadn’t let Annabelle keep. His wine collection. “White in the left one, red in the right.”

“Jesus. You either have a serious drinking problem or you know a hell of a lot more about picking a bottle than I do. Probably best if we let you decide what to have with dinner.”

“Okay. At least tell me white or red.”

“I honestly don’t have a preference.”

“Seriously? You really don’t care?” Was this woman for real? Jack had never met a woman who didn’t know exactly what she wanted.

“All right. Red. But only because you’re insisting.”

“Red it is.” Jack opened the door and browser the shelves. “I’ve got a bottle of Rockford’s. Oh, and Petaluma is good. Or we could have Devil’s Lair.”

Elle laughed behind him.

He glanced over his shoulder. “What?”

“You say those names like they should mean something.”

Jack shrugged. “I guess you’re not a wine-buff.”

She laughed again. “Not even close.”

“Well you’ll be easy to impress then.”

“And what would you chose if I wasn’t? If I knew what was what inside those bottles, which one would you pull out to impress me?”

Jack grinned. “That’s easy. I’d pull out the $600 bottle of Penfold’s Grange.”

“$600?”

He nodded as he turned back to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of Devil’s Lair Cabernet Shiraz. At a modest $18, it wasn’t cheap but not expensive either.

Elle whistled. “I couldn’t bring myself to spend that much money on something I’m just going to drink.”

Jack stood with bottle in hand and turned to face her. “You don’t just drink wine.”

“Ah, okay, I’ll bite. What do you do with it?”

“You savour it. Roll it around your tongue while your tastebuds pick out all the delicate flavours, the robust tang of the timber used in the barrel the wine sat in for months.”

“Dear God. It’s a drink, not sex.”

He grinned. “A fine glass of wine can be better than sex.”

“If that’s the case, you’re doing it wrong.”

“Well, considering I just got out of a ten-year marriage there haven’t been any women.”

“And obviously the marriage bed lacked passion or you’d still be in it.”

Jack jolted. Had his marriage lacked passion? He remembered Annabelle’s frequent requests not to muss up her hair and had to agree with Elle’s assessment. His marriage had lacked a lot of things it seemed.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” Elle took a step back. “Perhaps I should go —”

“No. It’s fine. Your comment just threw me for a moment. I honestly hadn’t thought about the state of my marriage one way or the other, but I’m inclined to agree with your opinion.” He frowned.

“I’m sorry.”

Jack arched one eyebrow. “For?”

“Your failed marriage.”

He smiled. “Don’t be. I’m certainly not.”

“Oh.”

“But let’s not bore ourselves with talk of that particular disaster.” Jack pulled open a drawer and searched for a bottle opener. Wasn’t hard to find. Like the house the space was pretty bare of anything, but the rudimentary implements. “I’ll open this to give it a minute to breath while I take your lead and go get out of this suit.”

Jack pulled the cork and placed the bottle on the counter before heading down the hallway to the only fully furnished room in the house. Number one on his shopping list had been a bed followed by the sixty-inch television in the living room. He wasted no time changing. The quicker he was, the sooner he could get back to Elle.

Elle swung her legs, careful not to bash her heels into the cupboard door beneath the counter she was sitting on. The breakfast bar lacked stools and there was only the huge squishy-looking couch in the living room to sit on. She’d been afraid to sit on that for fear of the thing swallowing her whole.

“Shall we have a glass of wine before we go?” Jack asked as he came into the room.

He’d changed into faded jeans that moulded to his butt and thighs. She tugged her gaze off his mesmerising arse. His blue button-up shirt was tucked into the waistband of his pants showing just how low on his hips those jeans rode. The fabric clung to his broad chest and shoulders and hinted at the flat belly she’d bet money was a tantalising ridged six.

He was built like a front row forward, but there wasn’t an ounce of fat on him that she could see. She wouldn’t mind getting a closer look to be sure though. Even perched on the counter, she wasn’t at eye level with him. Instead she stared right at that great expanse of chest.

“Elle?”

“What? Oh. Right. Drink. Yes. Sounds good.” She needed something to wet her suddenly dry throat. Not to mention something to occupy her hands so they didn’t wander into his personal space.

“You okay?” Jack stepped closer, put a finger under her chin and lifted her face to look at her intently. “You look a little flushed. Is it too hot in here? Should I turn the air-con down a bit?”

“No. No. I’m good.” She shook off his hold and slipped off the counter. “Is there anywhere other than that life-threatening couch to sit?”

“Life-threatening?” Jack asked as he got two wine glasses out of a cupboard.

“Yeah.” Elle glanced in the direction of the couch. “I’d disappear into those monstrous cushions never to be seen again.”

Jack chuckled. “I can see how you might think that. But I can assure you I’d send in a search party if you did.” He handed her a glass full of a deep red liquid and nodded to the left. “There’s a less threatening sunlounge by the pool.”

“You’ve got a pool?” She was a little jealous.

“That’s a loose term for the hole half-filled with water in my backyard.” He slid open a glass door and motioned for her to precede him. “It’s just one of many reasons why I got this place cheap.”

“Wow.” Jack wasn’t wrong. The pool was in a sorry state. It was about a third full with a murky liquid that was quite possibly inhabited by the swamp creature from the black lagoon. It certainly looked like a black lagoon, the inky water thick, keeping the depth a mystery. Tiles along the edge were either chipped or missing and the sides above the water line were a deep green due to the thick layer of scum growing on the walls.

“I plan to fix it up.” Jack sighed. “Figured I’d wait ’til next year now though. It’ll never be ready for this summer and I’d rather take my time and really think about what kind of repair or replace I want to do.”

Elle wandered over to the old but sturdy looking sunlounges. “These come with the house?”

“Yeah, I’ll replace them eventually, but for now they’re usable.” Jack sprawled out on the lounge next to her. “Sit down. They’re surprisingly comfortable.”

She eased herself down and when the seat didn’t collapse beneath her, she leaned back and stretched her legs out. “You’re right. Very comfy.” Elle wiggled her arse to find the perfect spot. Glancing up, she saw Jack’s gaze glued to her hips.

Heat rushed through her. Muscles grew taut as desire wound its way through blood and bone. She’d never reacted so intensely before. There’d been something different about Jack from the very beginning, and while she still could not pinpoint what it was about him, she couldn’t deny he had a profound effect on her.

Her stillness must have registered because he brought his gaze up to meet hers. The fire in his eyes singed. Any part of her that wasn’t alight before instantly sparked to life delivering a full-body shudder.

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as his throat worked. “I —”

“I’m not sleeping with you,” Elle blurted.

He jerked back. “You’re not?”

“No.”

“Care to tell me why?”

“You said it yourself. There’ve been no other women.”

“And this is significant how?”

Had he moved closer? He seemed to be only inches away instead of feet. “I don’t like messy endings.”

“Messy endings?” One eyebrow arched. “I’m not following.”

“We work together.”

“Not really.”

“I don’t shit in my own backyard.”

Jack laughed. The full-body, throw-your-head-back kind. “I would hope not,” he said when he finally got his laughter under control. “But I still don’t see why this means we aren’t sleeping together.”

“I’d be your rebound.” She had no intention of being anyone’s rebound. She’d been there, done that, bought the fucking t-shirt.

“Okay.” He drew the word out, obviously still not getting it.

“Rebounds never last, therefore we’d end, and that would be messy.” Elle had no intention of being in that situation again. She’d barely survived the first time.

“Interesting theory.”

“It’s not a theory.”

“No?”

“It’s a well known fact.” It was one of the first things she’d learned about dating.

One side of his mouth hitched in a cocky grin. The corresponding eyebrow angled in the same jaunty way. “There’s scientific evidence to back it up?”

“There has to be.” Surely something that was so universally true had facts to prove it. “Everybody knows it’s true.”

“Mmm…” Jack rubbed his fingers along his chin, the rasp of his stubble loud in the quiet surrounding them. “You know, I think you’re right. My last rebound relationship was with me ex.”

“See!” Elle sat up straight. “That ended.”

Jack chuckled. “Yeah, about twelve years after it started.”

“Oh.” She slumped back on the lounge. That kind of blew her argument out of the water, didn’t it? “But it did end.” Lord. She wasn’t even convincing to her own ears.

Elle took a sip of the wine she’d all but forgotten was in her hand. “Oh. This is nice.”

“Yeah, it’s not a bad drop.”

They sat quietly, each in their own thoughts as the sun went down and the chill started to set in.

“You know. You could sleep with me and get my rebound out of the way,” Jack murmured.

Elle chocked on her mouthful of wine. He leaned over and thumped her on the back a couple of times.

“Then we could get together again and you wouldn’t be my rebound, so we wouldn’t have to worry about the messy ending.”

He grinned at her. Elle couldn’t blame him. She had to look comical with her mouth hanging open. It took her a few seconds, but then she couldn’t help the laughter that burst from her chest.

* * *

Jack wasn’t sure what was so amusing. He’d been deadly serious about getting the rebound out of the way. He should take offence except the sound of her laughter ringing out in the darkness vibrated in his gut, leaving behind an unfamiliar warmth. The way her breasts jiggled heated other areas of his body, but he’d ignore those. If he didn’t he’d be climbing on top of her and rebounding away.

“Ahem.”

“Sorry.” She placed a hand over her mouth and tried to smother her remaining amusement. “Trust a lawyer to find the loophole.”

Jack smirked. “I don’t think that’s a compliment…”

Elle sat up and swung her legs over the side of the lounge. “Yes. And no.”

“Hmm…” Jack put his feet on the ground, his toes almost touching hers, and stood. “C’mon. Let’s go eat.”

He held out his hand and was surprised Elle didn’t release his hold when he walked towards the house. They finished their wine and he put the glasses in the dishwasher before grabbing the bottle and reaching for Elle’s hand once more.

Neither of them spoke as he led her from the house and locked the door behind them. The walk was slow and easy, their strides in sync, their hands clasped together so naturally anyone observing them would think they’d been taking evening walks for years. Jack found it amazing that the height difference didn’t make strolling hand in hand difficult at all.

It felt comfortable — right — to be beside Elle in the cool night air.

He couldn’t recall ever feeling this relaxed with Annabelle, not even in the early days when the rush of new love had overtaken every part of him. Pushing those thoughts away, he concentrated on the woman walking next to him. Her size gave her a fragile air, but Jack already knew not to judge this book by its cover. She didn’t seem the type to play games either. He’d had his fair share of manipulation at the hands of his ex-wife; he wasn’t about to let another woman make him lose his centre.

They turned the corner at the end of his street and the row of storefronts came into view.

“When you said around the corner, you meant it,” Elle said as they walked past the closed doctor’s office. “You know I’ve lived here almost three years and I’ve never once ventured along here.”

“There isn’t much, but I did discover the Italian is good. They do takeaway too, which is handy, especially when you’re a bachelor with an empty house.”

“You don’t cook?” Elle asked as he led her through the front door of Antonio’s.

“Oh, I cook, but when I first moved in not only was there no furniture, but I hadn’t had the fridge delivered or the new stove hooked up.” Jack waved at Antonio and pointed to his usual table in the back corner. Getting the man’s nod, he wove his way through the tables and pulled out a chair for Elle.