Don't Let Me Forget Page 4

  Marty’s chuckle turned into genuine laughter and Cynthia looked like she was biting back a smile.

  ‘Ouch,’ Dan said, not sounding offended in the slightest. ‘I thought English women were more polite. Here, try this.’

  Before Jet could fire off a retort about how this Englishwoman had spent the last five years immersed in Australian culture—and become a lot more straightforward because of it—he shoved an intricate looking hors d’oeuvre at her.

  ‘What is it?’

  He waved his free hand at her. ‘It doesn’t matter what it is. Just eat it, then take a sip.’

  ‘Why, thank you, darling,’ Cynthia muttered under her breath.

  ‘They’re delicious, Mum,’ Dan added quickly.

  Cynthia rolled her eyes and turned away to stir the pot on the cooktop.

  Jet took the bite-size offering from Dan and popped it in her mouth. ‘Mmm.’ It was some sort of fish and avocado concoction, with a tangy tomato and herb base.

  ‘Now drink,’ Dan instructed, passing Jet her glass of wine.

  She was tempted to tell him he was being bossy, but she was still chewing. She swallowed then took another sip of the French white wine. Her eyes widened. ‘Oh my God.’

  Dan broke into a wide grin. ‘Now tell me what you taste.’

  ‘It’s like a completely different wine! I can taste honey and melon fruit, and would I be right in saying hints of oak? It’s wonderful.’

  ‘Pairing wine and food is something of an art,’ Dan explained.

  ‘May I?’ Jet asked, looking at Cynthia and pointing to another hors d’oeuvre.

  ‘Be my guest,’ she replied, smiling warmly.

  Jet savoured another of the bite-size delicacies and then followed it with a hearty sip of wine. The flavour almost took her breath away. When she was finished, she turned back to Dan. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘How did I know what?’

  ‘To combine these hors d’oeuvres with this wine?’ she asked.

  He shrugged, then smiled at Jet so she was treated to that dimple again. ‘I spent six months in France.’

  Jet’s lip quirked. Touché. ‘Yes, you did. Thank you for educating me. I can see I’ve got a lot to learn.’

  Cynthia directed her smile in her son’s direction. ‘Looks like you’ve got a convert.’

  ‘If you’re serious, I can teach you more,’ Dan offered casually.

  Marty stepped forward and set his glass of wine on the bench. ‘She’s only been here a week. Let her get the run of the place first before you start enticing her over to the dark side.’

  Jet’s brow furrowed in confusion. ‘The dark side?’

  ‘Dan’s on a mission to develop a new range of Rhodes Wines,’ Marty explained, ‘but you need to get a better grasp of our bestsellers first.’

  ‘Something different?’ Jet asked.

  ‘Yeah,’ Dan said, turning to her. ‘I want to create wines specifically designed to go with certain foods. For the average wine drinker, it will make selecting wine for a meal easier. For chefs and restaurants, I want to offer them a premium range.’

  ‘It’s not a new concept obviously,’ Marty added, ‘but we believe it’s all in the marketing.’

  Dan nodded. ‘Go Fish for a white wine like a Sauvignon Blanc to accompany white fish, for example. Or Meat Lover, which would be a Shiraz to pair with a hearty steak.’

  ‘It’s quirky,’ Jet admitted.

  ‘The idea is to get the younger market and make them realise what a good wine can do,’ Dan told her.

  Jet smiled. ‘Sounds like you’re on a mission.’

  Dan shrugged, appearing relaxed but Jet was starting to realise his easy manner disguised a quiet determination. ‘How about you? Mum tells me you’ve booked three weddings in your first week and have appointments for three more.’

  It was Jet’s turn to shrug. ‘Just doing my job.’

  ‘I’ll say,’ Dan picked up his wine and studied it thoughtfully. ‘We’ve been talking about hiring someone like you for ages, but we couldn’t find anyone. I take it your new to the area?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘How long have you been in Australia?’ Dan asked.

  Jet glanced up at Marty quickly, then back down at her wine. ‘A little while.’ What was she supposed to do? Lie? It didn’t come naturally to her.

  Marty cleared his throat. ‘Jet used to run a very successful events company back in the UK. She started out with weddings but then went on to celebrity events and the like.’

  Jet shot Marty a silent look of thanks when Dan moved to pick up another hors d’oeuvre. It was close to the truth, even if the location wasn’t technically correct.

  ‘What made you give it up?’ Dan asked with a slight frown.

  Jet pushed her wine away while a million unbidden thoughts vied for her attention. ‘Divorce,’ she said eventually, another half-truth.

  The kitchen went silent for a moment, and the only sound Jet could hear was the gentle bubbling of dinner on the stove.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Dan said, his voice low. ‘I didn’t mean—’ He stopped when he felt Jet’s hand on his arm.

  Jet removed her hand. She’d done it without thinking. Anything to stop him apologising for her bastard of an ex-husband. She stared at her hand, the warmth of the contact still burning her fingers. ‘Don’t be silly,’ she said quietly. ‘It was an obvious question.’

  ‘Well, it may not be what you planned, but from what I’ve seen so far, we’re lucky to have you,’ Dan told her.

  ‘Thank you.’ Jet stood. ‘Do you mind if I use your bathroom before dinner?’ she asked Cynthia.

  ‘Of course, sweetheart. It’s back down the hall.’

  Jet nodded, then walked from the room, even though she felt like running. Inside the bathroom, she released a deep breath. God damn it. He’d only asked an innocent question and she had been filled with panic. She needed to get a grip. She couldn’t react like this every time someone asked her about her past. Her life depended on it.

  She sniffed and looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her brown eyes glistened and she closed them in frustration. For some reason, she was finding the Rhodes’ tendency to be warm and caring unbearable.

  After another minute or two of deep breathing and tidying herself, Jet made her way back to the kitchen, determined to hold it together.

  After all, she didn’t have anything to hide, she reminded herself. She wasn’t Juliet Temple anymore. She was Jet Appleton.

  Chapter Six

  Dan found himself more and more intrigued by Jet as the night wore on. Over that initial glass of French wine, he’d been pleasantly surprised by her confidence. She was direct and possessed a good sense of humour—all promising qualities for them working together. Then just as he’d started to warm to her, at the mention of her divorce, it was as if an invisible wall had come up. She remained guarded for the rest of the dinner. Downright pleasant, if he had to admit it, but devoid of the spark he’d witnessed earlier. And for some reason it annoyed him.

  His mother and father did an admirable job of keeping the conversation going. In fact, he was impressed by how well they both got along with Jet, and Dan could see why his father had hired her.

  After coffee and dessert, his mother turned to him. ‘Have you collected everything you need from the cottage?’

  Dan pushed away his small glass of dessert wine. He’d been daydreaming. ‘Sorry?’

  Cynthia sighed at her son’s inattentiveness. ‘You’re moving into the guest bedroom, are you not?’

  Jesus. Dan loved her, but he’d been home less than twenty-four hours and she was already using that motherly tone with him. ‘Yeah.’

  ‘I think I should move into the guest bedroom,’ Jet interrupted.

  Everyone turned to look at her and she offered them an apologetic smile.

  ‘After all, I’m the guest here, not Dan. It’s his cottage,’ she explained.

  ‘I’m staying in the guest bedroom,’ he
told her. ‘I wasn’t due home for a couple more months, so it’s only fair.’

  Jet studied him from behind those guarded brown eyes. ‘But it’s your cottage,’ she said quietly.

  ‘It’s the estate’s cottage. Mum and Dad’s, if you want to get technical. And they’re my parents, so I should be the one who has to put up with them. Not you,’ Dan replied.

  ‘I love you too, darling,’ Cynthia said.

  Dan ignored her, and continued to give Jet what he hoped was a firm look.

  ‘Then it should be up to them,’ Jet stated, and turned away from Dan to look at Cynthia and Marty for their verdict.

  Perhaps it was the jet lag, but Dan felt his usually good temper turn decidedly foul. He went to open his mouth, but his father held up a hand.

  ‘If we’re going to get technical, Dan is heir to this estate and that cottage is his as far as I’m concerned. However,’ Marty said, levelling a look at Dan, ‘Jet is the guest here and it should be up to Jet decide where she feels more comfortable.’

  Dan broke his father’s gaze and crossed his arms. Correction. He’d been back in the country less than twenty-four hours and both his mother and father were taking that tone with him. He might love this estate, but he sure as hell got tired of this dynamic. He was thirty-three, for fuck’s sake.

  Oblivious to Dan’s inner turmoil, Jet stood. ‘Thank you, Marty, I appreciate that. I’d feel more comfortable in the guest bedroom. I’ll just go and collect my things so Dan can settle back in to the cottage tonight.’

  With a soft smile, she thanked Cynthia for a wonderful dinner and then retreated from the dining table. The three of them remained silent until they heard the front door close quietly a moment later.

  ‘Well done, Dad.’

  Marty raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m not sure that constitutes a ‘you’re welcome.’’

  Dan glared at him. ‘Damn right. Now I’m going to have to go over there and convince her to stay put.’

  Cynthia gave him a curious look. ‘Why would you need to do that?’

  ‘Because it’s obvious she’s more comfortable in the cottage.’

  Marty frowned. ‘That’s not what she said—’

  ‘And when has a woman ever said what she means?’ Dan asked, exasperated.

  Cynthia’s lips turned upwards in a small smile. ‘He’s got a point, Marty.’

  Marty sat back in his chair, raising both of his hands in a gesture of defeat. ‘I did the gentlemanly thing and let her make the decision. What more do you want me to do?’

  Dan stood, his chair scraping on the wooden floorboards. ‘Leave the dirty work to me, by the looks of it. She’s an employee here, Dad. She shouldn’t have to stay in the main house. I assume the longer-term plan is for her to rent somewhere in town, once she knows the area better. Until then, you can put up with me over here.’

  Dan started towards the hall. He’d better get over there quickly. He hadn’t known Jet long, but he had the feeling she’d already be half-packed by now.

  ‘Dan?’

  Dan stopped, blew out a long breath and turned to face his father. ‘Yeah?’

  ‘I can see I’m not going to be able to change your mind, but go easy on her.’

  Dan blinked. It was an odd thing to say. He opened his mouth to say as much, then closed it again when he registered the expression on his father’s face. Concern and worry.

  ‘Sure,’ he said instead. Dan turned back towards the hall, confused.

  In the little time he’d gotten to know Jet Appleton, she seemed more than capable of holding her own. Although, he supposed at the mention of Jet’s divorce, something had visibly dimmed in her. And once again, inexplicably, he felt a surge of annoyance at that fact.

  Dan strode purposefully down the hallway.

  ***

  Jet looked around the little room that she’d called home for the past week. White-washed walls, white shabby chic furniture contrasted by light blue furnishings, wooden floor boards and two wide, bright windows overlooking the estate. Under the circumstances, she’d really grown to feel at home here.

  Oh well, she thought with a sigh. It made sense to give Dan his cottage back and take up residence in the main house. She’d miss it, though. She’d also miss the privacy. Jet reminded herself that it wasn’t going to be forever. A few months at the most, hopefully.

  She opened the built-in cupboard and pulled out her suitcase. That would be the easiest way to transfer her things across to the house. Kneeling down, she started to unzip it.

  ‘Put the suitcase back in the cupboard.’

  Jet looked up to find Dan standing in the doorway of the bedroom. For someone she’d picked as being easygoing, he sure was challenging that impression right now. ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘Put the suitcase away. You’re staying here.’

  Jet stared at him in disbelief. ‘No, I’m moving my things into the main house so you can have your cottage back.’

  ‘I don’t want my cottage back.’

  Jet got to her feet and looked at Dan. His mouth was set in a thin line and his eyes were a cool blue.

  ‘I don’t believe you. Of course you want your cottage back. You don’t want to live with your parents,’ she pointed out calmly.

  Dan stepped into the room and the effect was immediate. The room seemed to shrink with his presence. Jet forced herself to breathe evenly, though her heart was racing. It wasn’t Dan she was afraid of, she reminded herself.

  Dan suddenly gave her a lopsided smile. ‘And I don’t believe you. You don’t want to live in the main house with my parents either.’

  ‘I—’ Jet faltered. Her heart rate was slowing down but his expression was doing strange things to her stomach.

  ‘Why didn’t you just say so?’

  Why did she have to be such a useless liar? ‘It doesn’t matter what I prefer,’ Jet said, briskly. ‘This is your cottage.’

  ‘And I’d like for you to stay here.’

  Jet closed her eyes. She didn’t need this right now. It was bad enough she had to leave Sydney, be away from her company and absent from a heap of important events. But now here she was in a job she didn’t want, arguing with a nice man she barely knew over living in his house.

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said quietly, her eyes still closed. It was the truth. It didn’t matter. Cottage or main house, she didn’t care because she’d rather be at home in her apartment in Sydney. She opened her eyes again.

  Her breath caught. The cool, steely determination in his eyes was gone. It had been a long time since anyone had looked at her with such genuine concern.

  ‘Jet.’ Dan took a step closer, but it was tentative. ‘Please stay here. Something tells me this is where you need to be right now.’

  Jet swallowed, painfully aware it did nothing to displace the lump forming in her throat. She nodded, because she didn’t trust herself to speak.

  ‘Good,’ Dan said softly. ‘I’ll just go get some of my things. That is, unless you plan on tackling me and forcing me to stay?’

  Jet allowed herself a half-smile. ‘No, I’m good.’

  Dan nodded, then walked from the room. Jet watched those broad shoulders as he headed across the hall, before disappearing into his room. She closed her bedroom door quietly, then went to sit down on the edge of the bed.

  Relief mixed with exhaustion swirled through her. She quickly wiped away a single tear as it started to trail down her cheek, a deep sadness settling over her. When had the world become such a dark place that she’d mistrust a decent man?

  Chapter Seven

  Where the hell was she?

  Andrew paced the generous expanse of his city office. It was just as well he was rich. If he’d been any poorer and unable to afford what most people would consider an ostentatious office, he’d be climbing the walls right now.

  Not that he’d ever had this problem before he’d met Juliet, he reflected. Before Juliet, he would have settled for an office half the size.

  He’d still d
emand the view though. The floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked Sydney’s leafy Hyde Park and beyond. From the thirtieth floor of what was popularly known as ‘Temple Towers’ he had one of the best views in the city and he knew it. Just like he knew he was one of the city’s richest and most powerful men, but that wasn’t helping him right now, was it?

  He growled and hit ‘end’ on his cell phone. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d called Juliet’s number the past few days. She wasn’t picking up and her phone kept putting him through to voicemail. He hated voicemail. He particularly hated Juliet’s voicemail, having become far too familiar with it during their brief marriage. For one of the city’s best event managers, she was surprisingly relaxed about letting calls go through to voicemail. Or perhaps it was just his calls? He suspected it was the latter, and didn’t that just infuriate him further?

  Juliet had always been able to get under his skin, which was probably why he’d fallen for her in the first place. She was the first, possibly only, woman who’d been able to. He knew it wasn’t necessarily a good thing. He’d have been much better off chasing a celebrity, model or socialite. It would fit with his image and his growing profile as next in line to his father’s media empire, once his father handed over the reins.

  Instead he’d fallen for the British backpacker.

  He swallowed at the memory of Juliet in that inner city bar the night they’d first met. From a distance, she appeared unassuming and just another nobody. He hadn’t even noticed he’d spilled beer on her when buying a round of drinks for his group of friends.

  It was that cutting British accent that had stopped him in his tracks.

  ‘Well, aren’t you just the gentleman?’ she’d muttered under her breath. He could still remember those elegant fingers calmly wiping the beer from her bare arm—it had been summer and overheated in the small bar—with hardly a glance at him. Despite the softly spoken words, her accent sent a jolt right to his groin.

  God knows why. Well, actually he did know why. It was that English nanny he’d had when he was about eleven or twelve. He’d had a serious crush on the genteel young woman. At that age he’d been shy and serious, and very unsure about women.