Dreaming Of You. Margaret Way
Читать онлайн книгу.
conversation in the bakery to a screaming halt. Mr Sears’s face had turned the same colour as the icing on his Chelsea buns—pink. Bright pink.
Connor grinned. After the way Mr Sears had treated her this past week, Jaz deserved her revenge. He enjoyed the beauty of her payback. Not that it would boost her popularity rating as far as the rest of the town was concerned. Already an assortment of tourists and locals were surreptitiously returning to their cars and driving away—intimidated by the combination of loud motorbikes and leather.
Then suddenly Jaz was standing outside the Sears’s bakery without any of her friends in tow and Connor cursed himself for the distraction that had cost him the treat of watching her stride across the road, head held high and shoulders thrown back. Her eyes met his through the plate glass and that thing arced between them—a combination of heat and history.
The bell above the door tinkled as she entered. ‘Hello, Connor.’
‘Hello, Jaz.’
She swung away from him abruptly to smile at Mel—an uncomplicated display of pleasure that kicked him in the guts. ‘Melly! How are you?’
Melly leaned towards her. ‘I’m Princess Melly today.’
Jaz let loose a low whistle. ‘Hardly surprising. You do look as pretty as a princess today, you know?’
‘Daddy says I look as pretty as a princess every day.’ But she said the words uncertainly.
Jaz bent down. ‘Princess Melly, I think your daddy is right.’ Then she winked. ‘By the way, I love the jeans.’
Mel beamed. Connor’s gut clenched in consternation. As if she sensed that, Jaz straightened. ‘I’d love to stay and chat, but I have visitors to get back to. You have fun today, okay?’
Mel nodded vigorously. ‘We will.’
‘Hey, Carmen. Howdy, Mr S.’ Jaz boomed this last.
Mr Sears raced down to the end of the counter where Jaz stood, the end nearest Connor and Mel. ‘What are you doing?’ he demanded in an undertone. ‘Trying to chase all of Clara Falls’ business out of town?’
‘I have nearly twenty people for morning tea.’ She didn’t lower her voice. ‘Which, at least for your bakery, Mr S, is going to be very good business. I’ll take one of your large carrot cakes, a strawberry sponge and…what would you suggest? A chocolate mud cake or a bee sting?’
Connor couldn’t resist. ‘Go with the orange and poppy seed, Jaz. It can’t be beat.’
She swung around to stare at him. That warmth arced between them again. The colour in her cheeks deepened. Connor’s groin kicked to life. She swung back to Mr Sears. ‘The orange poppy seed it is.’
Every single one of Mr Sears’s muscles—at least those from the waist up that Connor could see— bunched. If steam could’ve come out of his ears, Connor was guessing it would’ve. And yet he placed each of the three cakes in a separate cardboard box with the same care and reverence mothers showed to newborn babies.
But when he placed them on the counter for Jaz to collect, he leaned across and grabbed her wrist. Connor pushed his chair back and started to rise.
‘If the tone of this town is brought down any further,’ Mr Sears hissed, ‘you’ll ruin the lot of us. And it’ll be all your doing.’
‘No, it’ll be yours,’ she returned, as cool as the water in the Clara Falls themselves.
With one twist, she freed her wrist. Connor sat back down. She didn’t need his help.
‘I run a bookshop, Mr S, and I need to attract customers from somewhere. Until my bookshop starts securing its usual level of trade, and the rumours about drugs trafficking start dying down, I’m afraid you’ll have to get used to my weekend visitors. They have bikes and will travel. They believe supporting independent bookshops is a good cause.’ She hitched her head in the direction of the door. ‘Believe me, this lot is only the tip of the iceberg.’
Mr Sears drew back as if stung.
She sent him what Connor could only call a salacious wink. ‘Your call, Mr S.’ She lifted the cakes and all but saluted him with them. ‘Mighty grateful to you. Have a great day now, you hear? I’ll be back later to grab afternoon tea for the hordes. Who knows how many extra bodies could show up between now and then? And those Danish pastries look too good to resist.’ With that she swept out of the shop.
A buzz of conversation broke out around the tables the moment the door closed behind her. Connor watched every step of her progress with greedy delight as she returned to the bookshop. She walked as if she owned the whole world. It was sexy as hell. You had to hand itto her. The lady had style.
‘Jaz is my friend,’ Mel said, hauling his attention back.
He sobered at that. He didn’t want his daughter getting too attached to Jaz Harper. It wouldn’t do her any good. Just like it hadn’t done him any good.
‘Stop!’
Luckily Connor had already slowed the car to a crawl in expectation of the approaching pedestrian crossing when Mel shouted, because he planted his foot on the brake immediately.
‘What?’ He glanced from the left to the right to try and discover what it was that had made Melly shout. Katoomba’s main street was crowded with shoppers and tourists alike—a typical Saturday. He couldn’t see anything amiss. She couldn’t want more food, surely? They’d not long finished their sausage rolls and hot chocolates.
‘Jaz just went in there with two of her friends.’
He followed the direction of Mel’s finger to Katoomba’s one and only tattoo parlour.
Mel lifted her chin. ‘I want to go in there too.’
He hesitated. He played for time. He edged the car up to the pedestrian crossing, where he had to wait for pedestrians…and more pedestrians. ‘What about the botanic gardens and our picnic?’
‘Something is wrong.’ Melly’s bottom lip wobbled and his gut twisted. ‘She looked sad and she’s my friend and she made me feel better when I was sad.’
Her bottom lip wobbled some more. He gulped. ‘When were you sad?’
‘Last week.’
‘Why were you sad?’
Would she tell him? He held his breath. The pedestrian crossing cleared and he pushed the car into gear and started moving again.
‘Because Mrs Benedict smacked me.’
Connor slid the van into a free parking space and tried to unclench his hands from around the steering wheel. That still had the power to make his blood boil…
But Mel had confided in him!
‘You won’t ever have to go back to Mrs Benedict’s again, okay, sweetheart?’
Mel’s eyes went wide, then opaque. Connor couldn’t read her face at all. He didn’t know if she was about to throw a temper tantrum or burst into tears. ‘You said I was Princess Melly today.’
The whispered words speared straight into him. ‘You are, sweetheart.’
‘And that my every wish was your command.’
‘Yep, that’s right.’ If she didn’t want to talk about this, then he wouldn’t force her.
‘Then I want to see Jaz!’
He was hers to command. But how could he explain that neither one of them had the right to command Jaz?
Why was Jaz sad?
The thought distracted him. Perhaps that was why Mel’s escape plan succeeded because, before he realised what she meant to do, she’d slipped off her seat belt, slid out of the car and raced back down the street towards the tattoo parlour.