A Weekend To Remember. Miranda Lee
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bush.’
‘Is the cottage heated? If it isn’t, we’ll freeze to death.’
‘It has two efficient combustion heaters built into the old fireplaces—one in the living-room and one in the kitchen. We’ll be warm as toast once I get them going.’
‘Won’t the wood be wet?’
‘I stacked plenty in the laundry when I was up here last weekend,’ Hannah informed him without thinking.
‘You came up here last weekend?’ he immediately pounced, and she could have bitten her stupid tongue off. ‘Alone?’ he added on a puzzled note.
‘Yes, you were busy working,’ she said, marvelling at the speed with which she could lie. Not that it was all a lie. He had been busy. Busy having a dirty weekend with the treacherous Felicia, at a guest-house not all that far from here. Hannah had booked it for him herself. ‘The place needed airing,’ she went on quite truthfully. ‘It hadn’t been used for a while and I was thinking of bringing the boys up here next schoolbreak.’
‘The boys,’ Jack repeated thoughtfully, and Hannah wanted to kick herself. Why, oh, why had she brought them up?
Jack swivelled to face her. ‘Do Chris and Stuart know about us?’
‘No, they don’t,’ Hannah replied frustratedly. Jack had met her sons during their last schoolbreak, when they’d wanted to come and see where she worked. He had kindly taken them on a tour of the premises and attached exhibition homes, and they’d taken a real shine to him.
‘Remember, we only got engaged this last week,’ she added. ‘Look, Jack, perhaps you should leave all those sorts of questions till after you get your memory back as well, then most of them won’t be necessary. I think that would be less complicated and much less wearing all round.’
His sigh showed a very real weariness. ‘You’re right. I think I’m giving myself another headache trying to work everything out.’ And he slumped down in the passenger seat, his head and shoulders drooping.
She slanted him an anxious look. ‘Are you sure you feel all right?’
‘I’ll live.’
‘You should be in bed, resting.’
‘You could be right.’ He began rubbing his temples.
‘Won’t be long now,’ she said, throwing him a motherly smile. ‘Here we are, in fact.’
The cottage was old and quaint, made of stone, with a pitched iron roof and two chimneys. It had a small enclosed front porch and front door with stained-glass windows on either side. Inside it had a central hall which opened into two bedrooms and one bathroom on the right, and one long living-room on the left. At the end of the hall was a large, comfy country kitchen, whose large pantry had been converted to a sleekly modern laundry, complete with dryer. Out at the back a wide and sunny veranda overlooked thick bushland, with mountain peaks in the distance.
Two paths led from this back veranda—one leading off on a bushwalk the boys called the Boomerang, because it brought one right back to its starting point, and the other going round the side of the house to a small stone shed which had once housed an old dunny and an equally ancient laundry, complete with copper and washboard. Now it was where the wood, the mower and other various tools were kept.
Hannah loved the place—its simplicity and its peace and quiet. The boys had always liked it too—especially the bushwalking. She’d come up here with them as often as she could after Dwight had bought it, mostly without her husband. He had always seemed to find some excuse not to come at the last minute. Hannah had suspected he was having affairs back then, but had turned a blind eye to it till the day had come when she had been forced to face her cowardice and make a stand.
Recalling her husband’s infidelity renewed her resolve to do whatever she could to stop Jack from marrying that amoral woman. She would let Jack believe what he liked about their relationship provided he stayed up here with her, alone and away from Felicia’s influence. Of course, that didn’t include sleeping with him. That was carrying gratitude too far!
Gritting her teeth, Hannah pulled the car up next to the front steps and switched off the ignition.
‘You go on inside,’ she told Jack briskly.
‘There’s a big brass key in the geranium pot on the top step which opens the front door. Your bedroom will be the first on the right. I’ll get your things.’
He frowned. ‘When did you get my things?’
‘While you were asleep. Come, now, no more questions, remember? Just accept I have everything in hand.’
‘My ever-efficient Hannah,’ he said, opening his door. ‘How did I ever manage before you came along?’
Hannah knew what he was referring to. She often did little domestic chores for him, like delivering and picking up his dry-cleaning. She also took care of his personal bills, which he had a tendency to overlook when he was busy on a new project.
‘At least now I’ll never have to manage without you again,’ he said, his smile disturbingly tender.
Hannah sat, transfixed, when he unexpectedly leant back over and took her mouth with his in an incredibly gentle kiss. The softly sensuous contact of his lips brushing hers sent little shivers of delight running up and down her spine. She stared at him as his head lifted, stared deep into those deep blue eyes, true panic welling up within her.
No, no, came the frantic thought. I can’t allow this kind of thing to happen. It’s not fair to him, or to me. I must speak now—tell him the truth before it’s too late.
But then he kissed her again, not quite so gently, and immediately she lost the plot. Common sense kept telling her to keep her lips shut, but her lips didn’t seem to be connected to her brain.
His tongue swept deep into her mouth, and she felt it all the way down to her toes. When she moaned, his hands cupped her face, holding it captive as his kiss grew more and more demanding. And more and more seductive. Hannah ached to surrender to its heat, and to its promise of more to come. It had been so long since she’d been kissed like this. Too long, obviously.
Guilt finally fought its way through Hannah’s scrambled thought-processes, and she wrenched her mouth away from his, pulling back out of his grasp. ‘No, stop!’ she gasped. ‘I can’t let you do this.’
‘Why not?’ he returned thickly.
Because I don’t love you, she could have said. Because you’re not my fiancé. Because my response comes from nothing but years of frustration and neglect.
But Jack wasn’t in a fit state for the truth tonight. And neither was she. Maybe in the morning.
‘Your…your headache,’ she said instead.
‘What headache?’
‘Jack, stop it. You promised. I…I can’t handle this just now. And neither can you. The doctor said you had to rest. You might be suffering from concussion. The last activity you need is anything to get your blood pressure up. Surely this can wait till you’re better?’
Jack let out a shuddering sigh. ‘You’re no doubt right. But damn it all, Hannah, I can’t seem to stop thinking about you, and what it must be like between us. Hell, it must be incredible to have propelled us into a level 01 caring and commitment that didn’t exist six weeks ago. Surely you can understand my curiosity…’
Everything inside Hannah tightened when Jack reached out to lay a tender hand against her cheek. His blue eyes, normally so cool and businesslike, washed over her with a passionate warmth which had a decidedly heating effect on her blood.
‘Now that I’ve had a small taste of what’s to come,’ he said, ‘I have to admit my impatience to have you in my arms. Besides, I rather like the idea of making love to you while I can’t remember. It would be like experiencing our first time over again.’