Close Relations - Lynsey Stevens

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sorry, Georgia.’ He sighed. ‘You know if it hadn’t been for Peter I wouldn’t have come back. I had no control over that.’

      Georgia’s heart twisted painfully. Well, she told herself brutally, if she was harbouring any illusions about his return she’d be advised to nip them in the bud before they grew to envelop her again. There had never been any chance that he had returned to her. How could she be so foolish to imagine he might have? Even if she’d wanted him to…

      ‘But as I am here—well,’ he continued with a grimace, ‘like it or not, we’re going to run into each other once in a while.’ ‘That needn’t be often,’ she said with an evenness she was proud of. ‘I suppose you’ve taken over your father’s business, so you’ll probably be working, and so will I. I can visit your father when you’re at the office so we needn’t see each other at all.’ She steeled herself to hold his gaze.

      A pulse flickered in his jaw. ‘If that’s what you want.’

      Georgia swallowed. What she wanted was to wipe away the four years and that fateful night, have everything back to normal between them. His love. Her belief in his integrity. So many things. But that was impossible.

      She pushed herself to her feet and stood facing him, her chin held high. ‘I think perhaps that might be best, Jarrod, considering-well…’ She shrugged uneasily.

      ‘Considering?’ His blue eyes had narrowed.

      ‘Considering all that…’ Georgia paused again ‘…all that happened. I’m a lot older now, and a lot wiser. So please don’t worry that I might make another distasteful scene. That’s all behind me.’

      His eyes burned into hers across the few feet separating them. ‘I don’t recall saying that you would, Georgia.’ He ran a strong hand through his dark hair. ‘Look, we used to be friends. Let’s start again and try to at least be civil to each other.’

      His deep voice struck more raw and tender chords and Georgia bit off a sharp, incredulous laugh. ‘Civil? I’m sure we can. You. Me. And Aunt Isabel.’

       CHAPTER THREE

      JARROD’S lips thinned and a faint flush seemed to colour the line of his high cheekbones.

      ‘I don’t intend to defend myself again, Georgia. I’ve done more than enough of that. Perhaps I was asking too much for us to leave the past where it is, behind us. But I would have liked you and me to remain friends,’ he said slowly, as though he was having trouble forming the words, and then he sighed. ‘It’s late. I guess I should be going. I’ve got an early start in the morning. Peter wants me to visit the Gold Coast branch.’

      You used to take me with you. Georgia longed to say the words. Her eyes rested on him, her breathing becoming shallow as more old memories rose to haunt her. No! Concentrate on now, she instructed herself angrily. But the present meant looking at him, drinking in the tall length of him.

      His body came the closest to perfection of any man’s she’d ever seen. Those strong legs, muscular thighs, narrow hips, taut buttocks, straight back, broad, well-built shoulders, solid arms that wrapped around you, making you feel safe and warm and wanted.

      Georgia swallowed painfully, her fingers curling into her palms. Forget the past, she told herself with feeling. And forget his body. That was all he was. A body. Part of a yesterday she didn’t need to remember.

      He had moved towards the door, but when he stepped into the hallway he stopped, turning back to face her. ‘Say goodbye to Lockie for me. And Georgia, at least come and see Peter. He misses you.’

      With that he was gone.

      Later Georgia fell into bed, expecting to lie awake, but exhaustion won out and she slept deeply, without having to think about Jarrod Maclean and the disturbing knowledge that the effect he had on her was just as devastating as it used to be.

      

      ‘Georgia! Hey, Georgia!’ Lockie called as he bounded up the front steps.

      ‘Why does he have to be so noisy?’ Morgan muttered to no one in particular. She was lounging in a chair, idly flipping through a glossy magazine.

      It was just a week since the night Jarrod had driven Georgia to collect Morgan and things were gradually settling back into a relative degree of normality. Not that they had made much headway with Morgan. She was unusually subdued and flatly refused to discuss anything with anyone, even Steve, who tried to phone her each day. All she would say was that Steve had suggested they get engaged and she hadn’t wanted to be committed to him or anyone.

      Jarrod they hadn’t seen, and Georgia told herself she was very thankful for that fact. She could almost convince herself that she’d imagined his return, that there was still the width of the Pacific Ocean safely between them.

      ‘Georgia?’ Lockie repeated.

      ‘What’s wrong now?’ Georgia glanced up at her brother as he burst into the living room. She was trying to finish an assignment for part of her course in business management.

      ‘Bloody everything!’ Lockie threw himself into a chair.

      ‘Swearing won’t help.’ Georgia smiled faintly at him.

      ‘Maybe not. But it relieves my tension. Want to hear the good news or the bad news?’ He sighed loudly and sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his chin on his hand.

      ‘I should be over the moon about this but…’

      Georgia raised her eyebrows, glancing across at Morgan before turning back to Lockie. ‘But? And over the moon about what?’

      ‘About the booking I just got for Country Blues,’ Lockie told them.

      ‘What booking is that?’ Georgia’s mind was still on her assignment, so she was only giving Lockie part of her attention.

      ‘The booking, Georgia. The one I’ve been after. The one you told me to go out and get.’

      Georgia looked up at him then. ‘The one I told—? You mean the Country Music Club in Ipswich?’

      Lockie nodded and beamed from ear to ear.

      ‘Hey! That’s great, Lockie.’ Morgan made a thumbs-up sign.

      ‘Yes, Lockie, that’s wonderful,’ Georgia agreed.

      ‘You’re telling me! I walked in and they took us on. Well—’ Lockie looked a little sheepish ‘—it wasn’t quite that easy. I’ve been working on them all week. It turns out the band they had booked had a car accident or something and had to cry off at the last minute. Bad luck for them but fantastic for us. I was in the right place at the right time for once.’

      ‘It must have been fate,’ Morgan retorted drily, but Lockie ignored her.

      ‘It’s our big chance, Georgia. We’ve worked damn hard to get it and we were due for a lucky break. It’s what all the practising and the taking of those bit engagements has been all about.’ He rubbed his hands together. ‘There’s no telling where this booking could lead. The Country Music Club is the first place anyone who’s anyone will look.’

      ‘So what’s the bad news you mentioned?’ Georgia queried. ‘What could possibly be bad about that?’

      ‘The bad news is we have to start Friday night and Mandy’s still in New Zealand.’ He stood up and paced the floor. ‘Where the hell am I going to get a replacement singer at this late date? Good ones sure don’t grow on trees.’

      ‘Can’t you manage without Mandy?’ Georgia asked sympathetically.

      ‘Probably. But you know how it is. We’re just starting to make our name. With a female lead. Besides, the band needs a good-looking bird to give everyone something to look at apart from our ugly faces.’

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