This Time Forever (Australis Island) Page 8

  “We talked about it.”

  “Did he know you were married?”

  Martin met her gaze. “I never told him.”

  Again, the lack of acknowledgement. Meg laughed at herself. The guy would think Martin was footloose and fancy free, no encumbrances to hold him back.

  Goddamn, she’d been more than a fool for a long time. The utter bastard.

  Why did it still matter now? The end of the month was only three weeks away. And then she’d be free.

  “I know you’ll be able to run the business.” Martin left to dump more stuff in his new room. When he returned he said, “So I guess I’ll just remain a silent partner, and take dividends or something until we sell it.”

  Meg was way ahead of him. Her brain had worked frantically over every scenario she’d ever hoped would be the end of their marriage. This was better than any of them. “We’ll work something out,” she said, trying not to sound too complacent.

  “I trust you.”

  “Oh, I know.” Trust me to be thick as a brick.

  “And we both know I’m not cut out for this stuff and you are.” He walked off.

  Then why’d you even consider starting out? Why did you let me spend even more money going into something you never wanted?

  Her silent questions to him answered themselves. Perhaps he’d never intended to stay, he just needed his meal ticket out of the situation he was in when he met her.

  The work-horse. Meg Donovan, the work-horse who picks up lame-ducks and gives them all her money in exchange for love, only to find out love just wasn’t there.

  It stared her in the face.

  Meg Donovan, the goddamn fool.

  “Meg, how are you coping?” Anne asked.

  “This should’ve happened years ago. I’m truly glad he’s gone.” Meg wiped a piece of grated carrot out of her eye. “I just have to settle in now, soak up all this delightful seclusion and keep the business going.” She tucked the phone under her chin and carried on grating. “But I’ll have to have help here now you’re busy on the farm again. It’s just too much.”

  “I know a girl out your way. I’ll get her to give you a call.”

  “Thanks.”

  “So, how about you come in for a barbie tonight?”

  Meg sighed. “I’d love to but the drivers won’t be back until seven, and I have to clean the cars.” With Martin gone, all the work fell on Meg’s shoulders. She’d needed a car detailer and a neighbour with a couple of young teenagers had offered to do the work for her, starting in a week’s time. Not too soon, Meg decided.

  “Are you going to do something about that? I mean it’s only October and you’re already stretched to the limit.”

  “It’s okay. If this girl of yours works out, I’ll be fine. Get her to call me soon?”

  “Sure will. Catch you.”

  Meg disconnected. Hit her contact list and scrolled down to see Jarrad’s name and number. Then she clicked out of it.

  Jarrad.

  Thoughts of him popped into her head more often than usual now. She wondered for the thousandth time what would’ve happened if they’d got together. Of course if they’d got together, she’d have blown it somehow. She always did.

  She took to the carrot again. No use crying over what never was, and what never will be. She pushed the thought away.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Martin had been gone six months. Six months of hard yakka, keeping the tours moving, her drivers happy, the business pouring in. Meg employed a marketing consultant, a house-keeper and an office girl.

  Things had become a little easier in the New Year.

  Martin periodically rang to ask for money and Meg had become increasingly angry. In the end, she just said no, and consulted a solicitor.

  An offer was made and negotiations got under way. Martin was paid out and by the end of the following six months, she applied for divorce. Irreconcilable differences.

  She stared out to sea, so grateful they’d moved to the ocean before the separation occurred. Sometimes it felt as if Martin had deliberately engineered the whole thing. She hadn’t had the reins at all.

  Part of the divorce settlement was her buying Martin out of the business, and he signed over his share of the land to her, thereby repaying his debts.

  As she posted off the completed divorce kit and signed the cheque to accompany it, she wondered if he felt anything at all. Opening a bottle of wine to celebrate The End, she started to cry. She didn’t stop until she took herself off to bed, drunk as a monkey and slept the sleep of the dead.

  A man, she cried to herself. My kingdom for a man.

  Meg spied one, but naturally one too good to be true. Garth stood over her when he met her at a function, his broad chest enhanced by hours in the gym, no doubt. It didn’t matter to her, as long as those muscly arms grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder.

  They agreed to meet at her house, one night in between guest nights, and Meg began to live the best sex she’d ever known.

  Trouble was, she got plastered and all she remembered of that first encounter was in the morning, hours before he left.

  Good thing too. There was no way she would get attached, and no way now it mattered how much she drank.

  She anticipated his arrival each time, openly eager. His greeting would be a hard kiss on her mouth, his hands would span her waist then slide up to cup her breasts. One hand would remain there and the other would search between her legs, then he’d sit her up on a bench, strip her bike shorts or cotton trousers, lift her knees and lick and lick her until she came.

  Sometimes he couldn’t wait for her. He’d apologise breathlessly, push into her and come explosively, without restraint. Then after his little rest, he’d lift her to the settee and strip her clothes, suckle and nudge her nipples, stroke her, then lift her on to his lap and press into her again for a long, slow fuck.

  God, she thought she was in heaven.

  Garth wasn’t going to stop. Everything he needed as a man he took, and he gave everything back with immeasurable pleasure.

  Meg decided it was meant to be. Martin was gone, Jarrad never was. Things had to change. She was human, and woman.

  Garth and the universe showed her she was a desirable woman, yet she knew he was only part of her journey. She was appreciative, but the gift came with a price. It wasn’t going to last.

  Garth slipped away. His work dropped off in Adelaide and he left for interstate. Meg’s heart hadn’t broken, her head was too sensible to imagine the affair had been anything else but what it was. Her last phone call to him was to thank him, and to say that he’d never know just how much he’d done for her.

  His stunned silence allowed her a small measure of satisfaction. He’d liked her, after all, and she knew now that he’d have pleasant memories too.

  The next foray was not so satisfactory, but another lesson from the universe. Oh, the sex was powerful, and again she’d proven to attract a powerhouse of a guy, but he’d lied to her. Hadn’t told her he was engaged to be married. She shouldn’t have trusted so easily. At least she still cared about that sort of thing.

  Meg had ended up making a right fool of herself. Not once but twice, trying to work out why Steven was so slack in appearing for dates. The first time he left her high and dry was because he’d missed the flight connection, though that was just the excuse, as she found out later. The second time, she just got fobbed off. Frustrated with the innate incapacity men have for honesty, she kept away from him. Besides, sex with Steven was all for Steven. A hard bonk, but with no finesse.

  At least Garth was a considerate lover, clever and sensual. Steven was a wham-bam-thank-me-ma’am guy. Meg genuinely pitied the woman he was going to marry for two reasons: one, he was a cheat, but two, she’d have that selfish style in bed with her for the rest of their relationship. Poor thing. Steven was a dud.

  Meg felt she was moving away from the gift the universe had given her, and that she was abusing it.

  She laughed a
little to herself. If she hadn’t been drinking, none of it would’ve happened. Would she never make love the first time without alcohol?

  So that was the year that was.

  Gazing out to sea once again, her thoughts were far away. A year. Eighteen months, even more time gone and no fulfilling experience to explain her existence.

  Jarrad.

  Jarrad who crowded her thoughts all through the flings and the one night stands. Jarrad, the Someone she hadn’t slept with, dulled thoughts of all others into a dim mixed up past.

  All she wanted was a partner to share her life. Yet the drought began again.

  This seemed to be a pattern repeated. After Joshua, the drought had been hefty, and for a long time she believed she’d never undertake the type of relationship she dreamed of. Now, twenty years on, she was back to believing the same thing. Perhaps the universe was telling her that she’d always be solitary.

  It stuck in her gut. And she hated it.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The months slid away as the busy season engulfed her. The international tourists flocked to her company and the Island reveled in its best visitor year yet.

  Meg Donovan stood over the desk that Helen, her office girl, controlled. “Stats look good for now,” she commented and smiled.

  Helen smiled back. “We’re doing all right, boss.”

  The phone rang. Helen picked it up. “Island Complete Experiences, good afternoon. Certainly. Who shall I say is calling? Right, just one moment, I’ll try and locate her for you. Please hold.” She placed the call on hold and said to Meg, “Jarrad Scott.”

  Meg blanched.

  “Do you want to take it?” Helen asked, concerned.

  Meg nodded without a word and headed into her office. How to do this? What to say? Cheerful. Be cheerful. “Good God,” she answered the phone. “This is a voice from the past.”

  “How are you, Meg?”

  “I am just fine,” she said, a smile on her lips. “And you?”

  “I’m great,” he said. “Look, I’m here on the island. Can I come out?”

  To the point, our Jarrad. Meg’s heartbeat thumped in her throat. “Of course, but I’m not where I was.”

  He demanded directions, said he’d be an hour. She wanted to ask everything of him but he cut her off. “I don’t want coffee, I want to see you.”

  “Of course. Are you all right?” Meg was trying to track the time between their last meeting. Two and a half years? Three.

  “I will be when I see you.”

  He rang off and for the next hour and a quarter she drove Helen mad with pacing until the office girl finally got it out of her.

  When he burst into the office Helen suddenly found some mailing to do.

  Meg stared at him, and he her. He hadn’t changed except for a different cut to his hair. The broad chest strained the buttons on his chambray shirt, his jeans still filled with healthy Jarrad.

  “God, but you look good,” he breathed and took a step towards her.

  Then stopped.

  She stepped into his space and didn’t hesitate. It was a fury of a kiss, full of pent up longing, warm and hungry, slippery lips and darting tongues as each remembered the other from memories long tested.

  “He’s gone, isn’t he?” he breathed into her mouth.

  “Long gone,” she breathed back. “And Candy?”

  “Cindy.”

  They stood apart as Helen came back inside. Jarrad shook her hand, asked her if she enjoyed her job.

  Meg hardly heard Helen’s answer.

  “I never dreamed it was like this,” he said, gazing out to sea, standing in almost the exact place she always did.

  She wanted to touch his broad back. “Jarrad. What—?”

  “I’ve got a week, Meg. I needed to see you.”

  “We never stayed in contact.”

  “You never called.”

  “You, either.”

  “But we never forgot.” He turned back to her, took her hands. “I need to know how you are,” he said and kissed her. “I want to stay the week here, with you.”

  “And Cindy?”

  “She wants a baby.”

  Meg’s heart stilled for a moment. “And you?”

  “What about you, Meg?” he countered.

  “I’m forty-one, Jarrad. I don’t think so.” She let go of him. “What is it you came back for?”

  “You. What else?”

  He was gruffer than before, angry even. She frowned and decided to change the subject. “I’ve had plans drawn up for the new B&B. Do you remember I told you?”

  “Are they different to the ones you planned with him?”

  “Of course.”

  His hands slid down her arms. “Then I’d love to see them.”

  The fear which consumed her fell away. She went to fetch the plans leaving him standing in her front room, gazing at the rolling ocean.

  She suggested that they go up to the land so she could show him where everything would go. He drove them in his car, changed gears with his hand on hers, his grip fierce.

  Meg’s head was empty of everything but him. He swung the vehicle on to the block, taking her directions through the scrub and up to the clearing. The view was breathtaking. Meg got out of the car, the rolled up plans clutched under her arms. She made a to-do of spreading them on the bonnet.

  Jarrad grabbed a car-blanket and a couple of chairs and set up a picnic area. He pulled her down, the plans awry in her hands.

  His kiss was fierce again.

  “What is it?” she breathed, when she could.

  “Meg, I’ve thought of nothing but you…”

  “And Cindy.”

  “Don’t do that. I can’t explain, except to say that she fits where you don’t want to. I want a child, Meg, and you say you don’t.”

  “So I play second fiddle while you fiddle with someone else?”

  He pulled her head close to his. “You remember those nights at your place? It was all I could do not to take you away with me. But you had your life—”

  “And you had Cindy—”

  “—and how was I to interfere with that?”

  “You didn’t even try,” she cried and snatched herself away from him. “I’ve made my life, Jarrad. Don’t come rushing in here demanding what was never yours.”

  “The hell it wasn’t mine.” He exhaled loudly, flattened his hand on the plans as they threatened to blow away. “I have a week,” he grated.

  “What makes you think I’m here for you?”

  The silence lengthened as he stared at her. “You’re here.”

  “Jarrad.” She shook her head.

  “Look, the years apart mean nothing,” he said. “You haven’t been out of my mind.”

  “Have you been trying all along for a baby?”

  The wind went out of his sails.

  She looked at him steadily. “I didn’t ask, I should have... Are you already married?”

  His body stilled. “If I were I wouldn’t be here.”

  Meg took his hand. “Jarrad, I’m eight years older than you. And I don’t want a cheap relationship any more. I want the whole thing, all of a man, sharing all of our lives. I’ve built this business up to keep me going.”

  “I can’t make a claim on you, Meg,”

  “No, you can’t.”

  He turned away. “All I’ve thought about is—”

  “Cindy, a baby and me.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  Meg nodded once. “We parted less than good mates, Jarrad. This sort of reunion comes with a price, you know. Old hurts.”

  “You were living a bloody lie with Martin and you turfed me out—”

  “I didn’t turf you out.”

  “There was no contact—”

  “And you didn’t make any.”

  “One last time, Meg, I want you. I want us.”

  Meg stared down at the sheets of paper creating a ruckus under his hand as the breeze rustled through it. “You see that ar
ea there?” she said, pointing to the plans. “That’s going over there, optimising the view.” She moved his fist so he could see more clearly. “And this wall is here to create a wind break and also a private area for guests if they want to use the barbecue. It gives some shelter from the sou’easterlies. This, over here, is where I’ll garage the electric cars to take the guests to the beach. And this will be the gardener’s cottage, where the boss’s wife takes the hired hand.”

  “The hired hand, huh?”

  They spent the next hour wandering the block, hand in hand, sometimes stopping to gather the other close, sometimes just to gaze at the magnificent view overlooking land and sea.

  At one point he went ahead of her and stood with his hands on his hips. “I don’t know if there’s anywhere I’d rather be right now,” he said over his shoulder. “I must be in the best place on earth.”

  She’d thought of nothing but him for a long time, of what it would be like to sleep with this man who lingered in her thoughts day in and day out, to have him love her, want her day and night, make plans, laugh with her, cook in her kitchen, sing with her to her music.

  Why shouldn’t she have it, even for just one week?

  CHAPTER TEN

  There were no guests in tonight.

  Which was such a good thing because who would have thought to move them along? Who could do any thinking? Both Meg and Jarrad barefoot, and in the kitchen, bumping shoulders.

  The touching of hands made even preparing dinner a lengthy affair. Just a simple salad and steak took its time getting ready.

  She’d begun to pour their next wine when he stopped her.

  “I don’t need any more wine right now.” He stood behind her, his chin resting in the soft curve of her neck. “And I’m not even hungry.”

  In that moment she felt beautiful, adored. There was nothing in her life right now but Jarrad Scott. He was the air she breathed, the warmth by which she sunned herself.

  He gripped her shirt and pulled it out of her jeans, one little tug at a time until it was free. From behind, he undid the buttons and pushed it open, out of his way. He placed a hand on each of her hips. “Put your hands on mine.”