A glance across the table showed Jake had finished his, too. She didn’t know for how long but she suddenly felt him keenly observing her and had the awful sense he’d been reading her thoughts. She glanced at her watch, anxious to divert any further disturbing exchanges between them.
“Good heavens! The afternoon’s almost gone!’ Her gaze flew to his in sharp appeal. “We’d better leave, Jake.”
He checked his watch, raising his eyebrows in surprise. “You’re right. Got to get that lease signed on our way back to the office.” He signalled for the bill and smiled at Amy. “A good day’s work.”
She laughed, trying to loosen up. “We’ve played hookey for hours.”
“There’s a time and place for everything,” he answered blithely.
And this wasn’t quite the time and place…yet…for what he had in mind.
Amy tried to scotch the thought but it clung. “I’ll just make a quick visit to the powder room,” she said, rising from the table, hoping she wasn’t appearing too skittish.
“Fine. I’ll meet you in the foyer.”
She had her armour in place when she emerged from the powder room. Jake was waiting, looking well satisfied with his world. He wasn’t about to race her off, not without appropriate encouragement from her, anyway. She was safe with him as long as she kept herself under control.
“What’s the name of this restaurant?” she whispered as they headed outside.
“The Watermark.”
“Ah! Very appropriate. It was a wonderful lunch, Jake. Thank you.”
“I enjoyed it, too.”
No doubt about that, Amy thought. The teasing twinkle in his eyes was not the least bit dimmed. Jake Carter always lived to fight another day. He settled her in his car with an air of the man in possession.
But he wasn’t.
Thanks to Steve, Amy was a free spirit.
The name of the restaurant lingered in her mind as they drove towards completing the business of the day. The Watermark... It made her think of tides. When one rolled out, another rolled in. High points, low points. She wondered if making love with Jake Carter would be like eating a souffle´—a delight and then nothing.
Sex without love.
Forget it, she told herself.
Missing it didn’t hurt her one bit.
AMY did her best to carry a positive attitude home with her that evening. She didn’t allow the emptiness of the apartment she’d shared with Steve swamp her with depression. Soon it would be empty of both of them, she told herself. This phase of her life was over. Another was starting and she was going to make the most of it.
She made lists of what had to be done; contact the agency that handled the Bondi apartment and give notice of moving, telephone and electricity bills to be finalised, look up removalists and get estimates, collect boxes for packing. She was mentally arranging her furniture in the new Balmoral apartment when the telephone rang, jolting her back to the present.
Amy felt reluctant to answer the call. It might be for Steve, someone who didn’t know he was gone, and she would have to explain. Shock and sympathy would follow and she’d be forcefully reminded of her grief and humiliation. She glared at the telephone, hating its insistent burring, wanting to be left alone to pick up her new life.
The summons finally stopped. Amy sighed in relief. Maybe it was cowardly not to face up to the truth, but it was such a hurtful truth she just wanted to push it aside. To her increasing chagrin, however, she was not left in peace. The telephone rang on and off for the next hour, demanding an answer. She balefully considered taking the receiver off the hook, then realised that could instigate an inquiry from the telephone company since the caller was being so persistent.
In the end, the need to cut off the torment drove her to snatch up the receiver. “Amy Taylor,” she snapped into it.
“Thank heaven! I was getting really worried about you, Amy. It’s Brooke Mitchell here.”
Brooke! Amy instantly grimaced. Her least favourite person amongst her acquaintances.
“When Ryan came home from work and told me what Steve had done, I just couldn’t believe it at first,” she blathered on. “Then I thought of you and how you must be feeling, you poor dear…”
“I’m fine,” Amy interrupted, recoiling from the spurious gush of sympathy.
Gush of curiosity more like! Brooke Mitchell lived for gossip, revelled in it, and Amy had never really enjoyed her company. Brooke just happened to be married to Ryan who worked with Steve and the two men were both computer heads, moving their common interest into socialising occasionally.
“Are you sure? When you weren’t answering the phone…”
“I’ve only just come in,” Amy lied.
“Oh! I had visions of you…well, I’m relieved you haven’t…uh…”
“Slit my wrists? I assure you I’m not the least bit suicidal, Brooke. No drama at all.” For you to feed off, Amy silently added.
“I didn’t mean…it’s just such devastating news. And I can’t say how sorry I am. I don’t know how Steve could have done it to you. Infidelity is bad enough but getting the woman pregnant and deciding to marry her…after all the years you’ve been together…”
Amy gritted her teeth. Brooke was rubbing salt into the wound.
“…It’s just terrible,” she went on. “Though I’ve never thought living together was a good idea. You should have nailed him down, Amy. It’s the only way to be sure of them.”
It was the smug voice of a married woman. Amy refrained from saying divorce statistics didn’t exactly prove Brooke right. It would have sounded like sour grapes.
“If you need a shoulder to cry on…”
The memory of Jake holding her brought a sudden rush of warmth, taking the nasty chill off this conversation. “I’m really fine, Brooke. In fact, I’ve had a lovely day. Jake Carter, my boss, took me out to lunch to celebrate my new freedom.”
Which was almost true.
“You told him about Steve?” Real shock in her tone this time.
Caught up on a wave of bravado, Amy ploughed on in the same vein. “Yes, I did. And Jake convinced me I was well rid of him, so don’t be concerned about me, Brooke.”
“I see.” Doubt mixed with vexation at this turn of events. “Didn’t you tell me your boss was a rake?”
“Mmh. Though I’m thinking it might well be a worthwhile experience being raked over by Jake Carter.”
“Amy! Really!”
“Yes. Really,” she echoed, determined on wiping out any image of her being thrown on the scrap heap, too crushed to raise any interest in another man.
“Well…” Brooke was clearly nonplussed. “I was feeling so awkward about bringing up next Saturday’s party. I mean, when I invited you and Steve, I expected you to be together. Now…well, it is awkward, Amy. Ryan says Steve will want to bring…”
“Yes, of course,” Amy rushed in, her heart contracting at the thought of the pregnant blonde on Steve’s arm, queening it in Amy’s place. And the plain truth was, Steve was far more Ryan’s friend than she was Brooke’s.
“But if you want to bring Jake Carter…” Her voice brimmed over with salacious interest.