“Nothing, excuse me… I need the bathroom.” She disappeared toward the outside loo. Nate picked up the letter.
“You’re really okay with this?”
“I’m really okay.”
He wanted to leave it at that, but felt the need to explain further. “We couldn’t let you guys separate. Not when it was so obvious that you two had something worth saving.”
* * *
C
LAIRE
STRUGGLED
not to smile. He was so transparent in his desire to reconcile her to Steve. And so damn sweet. Tipsy with champagne, relaxed with laughter, she could reassure him.
“Well, it worked,” she said. “We recommitted to our marriage vows when he came home and lived happily…” She put down her drink, said brightly, “I’ll clear the plates.”
“I’ll help.”
She and Steve had also agreed how long he’d serve in a combat role that first leave after they’d reconciled. Which raised another question. After every tour the unit always took a couple of days’ leave to decompress before shipping home. Claire glanced outside, no sign of Jules yet. “Nate, I need to know something.” The champagne gave her courage. “I asked Steve this question after we’d reconciled and he hesitated before he said no.”
Dumping the empty mussel shells in the trash bag, she faced him. “Did he cheat on me during that period?”
He stopped midstride between the table and the kitchen, salad bowl in one hand, breadbasket in the other. “No,” he said.
“Then why the hell did he hesitate?”
It was his turn to glance at the door. “Jules will be—”
“I won’t have the courage to ask again.”
He dumped the plates on the kitchen counter. “We were at an expat bar in Dubai and Steve got drunk.… I mean, fall-down drunk. You’d fought on the phone.”
“Yes.” Her voice was steady.
“He started flirting with a woman at the next table, nothing in it,” Nate reassured her, and she managed a jerky nod. Inside she felt sick.
“She dragged him onto the dance floor. At that stage, he pretty much needed to hold on to her to stand up. Next thing, she’s got him lip-locked.”
Claire moaned and covered her face. He pulled her hands away, held them tight. “Look at me,” he ordered. She raised stricken eyes. “Steve yanked away and bellowed, ‘Goddamn it, you guys are s’posed to be looking out for me.’ He was totally indignant about the incident.”
She let out a breath.
Nate released her hands. “Back at our hotel Steve used up half a bottle of mouthwash—to purify his mouth, he said, and then passed out. He was riddled with guilt when he sobered up.”
“Good,” Claire croaked, a weight lifting from her mind. She’d trusted Steve when he’d told her he’d been faithful, but the shock of his death had made her question everything. “And where were you while this was happening?”
“Organizing a cab to return his sorry ass to the hotel.”
“Just as well!” She managed a shaky smile. Nate’s gaze softened as he reached out a hand.
The patio door slid open and a cool gust blew in with Jules. “Brrr, it’s cold out there,” she commented. “What’s for dessert?”
CHAPTER TWELVE
“I’
VE
GOT
SOME
NEWS
,” Jules said as Claire walked her out to her Volkswagen Beetle an hour later. “I’ve started dating again.”
Claire stopped in her tracks. “That is news.” She noticed Jules’s hand was fisted around her car keys. “Are you expecting me to give you a hard time about it?”
“You’re the first of Lee’s circle I’ve told,” Jules admitted. She glanced over her shoulder at the bach. Through the lit window they could see Nate moving through the room. “I’m testing the waters.”
Impulsively, Claire hugged her. “You’re only thirty-two, Jules. Of course you’ll meet and fall in love with another guy.”
“Whoa, slow down there, I said I’m dating, not looking for Mr. Right. I’m not a masochist.”
The wind gusted and both women shivered. Claire said, “Let’s get in the car for a minute.”
Once they’d settled in the front seats, she turned to Jules. “Don’t close yourself down to another love.”
Her friend looked at her ring, absently twisted it straight. Why had she never had it fitted properly? It was almost as if she was reluctant to claim it. “And you’re not an impostor,” Claire added.
Jules raised startled eyes. “What?”
“You’ve always been uncomfortable wearing that ring. You pull away from family gatherings and commemorative get-togethers as though Lee’s going to ghost up and say, ‘I meant that ring for someone else.’ Even when he was alive you doubted his love, when we could all see it as plain as day. I don’t know why you think you don’t deserve to be happy or loved or treasured, Jules, but don’t use Lee’s death as an excuse to pull back from letting a good man love you. More than any person I know, Lee lived life to the full and he’d want that for you.”
“Claire,” her friend said shakily, “you have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I?” Claire sat back. “Okay, my mistake.”
“And anyway, what about you?”
“What about me?” Jules was deflecting, but Claire got defensive anyway. “Hey, I had a fourteen-year marriage, I have a teenager. I’ve already had a wonderful family life.”
“See, you’re not a masochist either.”
“You lawyers twist everything,” Claire complained, but feebly.
“Uh-huh.” Jules sighed. “I’m lonely, Claire. Until Lee, I was perfectly happy being celibate.”
“You were a workaholic nerd.”
“Semantics.” Jules waved a dismissive hand and her ring flashed by the subdued green light of the dash. “Sex was something I could take or leave.” A faint smile curved her lips. “Lee ruined that for me. Now, as hard as I try, I can’t put my libido back to sleep again. I need touch, sexual companionship.”
“Remarket that as meaningless sex and you won’t have any trouble finding takers.” Jules was a good-looking woman with an intelligent “dare you” quality. She and Lee had been perfect for each other. He wasn’t used to hearing no, and she wasn’t used to saying yes.
“I’ve had one date with a guy I met through an online-dating website, but it’s harder than you think to jump into bed with a virtual stranger.”
“You slept with Lee on your blind date,” Claire pointed out.
“I told you that in confidence,” Jules scolded. “Anyway, I’m hitting the dating circuit and I wanted you to know. One, because I’m the type of person who always gets caught, and two, I need your blessing.”
“Go forth and fornicate.”
“I’m serious, Claire. I want you—everyone—to understand this doesn’t diminish what I felt for Lee—”
“Jules, this is me.” Claire covered her friend’s hand. “I’m in the same lifeboat, remember? We’ve finally hit land and now the fearless one—that’s you—goes ahead to check if the natives are friendly before the cowardly one leaves the boat.”
Jules relaxed in the leather seat. “So, you miss sex, too.”
“Marriage to a soldier gets you used to a lifestyle of feast or famine, but yes, it’s been a long time between meals.” She thought of the sexy lingerie in Ellie’s shop, of the pang it had given her. “After fifteen years with one guy, I don’t have a clue how to go about dating. And then there’s Lewis to consider. He’s at an age where the very idea of his mother wanting romance is disgusting. I have a new business to get up and running.” She noticed Jules had raised a brow. “Does it sound like I’m making excuses? I am.”
“What about Nate?”
Claire looked at her uncomprehendingly.
“You two have such a bond.”
The penny dropped, and she was offended. “I’ve never considered Nate as more than a friend.”
“Of course not, you loved Steve.… But I doubt you thought of Nate as a brother, either,” Jules added astutely.
She took a moment to respond. “Being happily married gives you a free pass to appreciate a sexy guy.… It’s not personal.”
“You think Nate’s sexy?” Jules widened her brown eyes. “I would only describe him as good-looking myself.”
Claire got out of the car with as much dignity as she could muster. “Go home, you bad girl,” she said. “You are not making me self-conscious around an old friend.”
A wink was her only response. Claire slammed the door, watched the Volkswagen disappear into the dark with a twinkle of taillights. Shaking her head, she returned to the bach. Nate wasn’t anywhere in sight. Faintly, she heard the shower running.
Don’t go there,
she told herself before she put a picture to that. Damn Jules and her warped humor. Rolling up the sleeves of her knit top, she plugged the sink and turned on the taps. Heard a muffled “Hey!” through the wall.
“Sorry!”
Shutting off the hot tap, Claire filled up the sink with cold water and started washing the dishes. Now he probably had a scalded ass.
Her brain threw up an image. She smacked her forehead. “Stop it!”
“Stop what?”
Nate stepped through the patio doors, bare-chested, with a towel slung around his neck and jeans low on his hips. “You’ve got soap bubbles between your eyebrows.”
Claire grabbed a tea towel and patted her forehead dry. “Don’t walk outside like that, you’ll catch cold,” she scolded, getting all mumsy in her embarrassment.
He shrugged. “I forgot to take a shirt. Maybe that’s something you can spend your first year’s profits on—interior access to the bathroom.”
“Yes, let’s talk plumbing,” she said, relieved, then heard the double entendre and blushed.
“You okay?” Nate paused at the entrance to his room, a foot away from the sink. Amidst the sudsy detergent she could smell sandalwood aftershave. “You’ve gone red.”
Experiencing an urge to close her eyes and follow her nose, Claire turned her burning face to the dishes. “Steam from the sink,” she lied.
“Really?” With a doubtful expression he came closer and dipped his finger in. “It’s cold.” He dried his finger on the towel around his neck. “Maybe I should take another look at your thermostat.”
Claire had to get out of this kitchen, but he blocked her way, solid, half-naked, radiating heat. “Can you just…”
He stepped aside to let her pass and she found some extra space in the living room, found her breath.
“The thermostat’s fine,” she said. “I didn’t want to affect the shower, so I used cold.”
“Thanks.” Absently, Nate lifted part of the towel and rubbed his hair dry, affording her tantalizing glimpses of his chest, abs and biceps. Claire’s mouth went dry. Then she saw he was watching her under the toweling, his expression puzzled.
“You look fit,” she said inanely. “You work out much?”
Nate draped the towel over one shoulder. “Zander likes a gym buddy.”
“So you said earlier. I’m going to have to join a gym myself,” she babbled. “If I’m helping clients haul in a ten kilogram snapper.”
He assessed her body dispassionately. “I was only teasing in the boat shed. You’re holding up okay.” She felt the disinterest like a bucket of cold water. Idiot.
“You and Jules were deep in conversation when I went to the shower,” he said.
“She’s dating again,” Claire replied, still caught in her mixed feelings. Then remembered Jules didn’t want that broadcast. “Keep that to yourself,” she added.
“Okaaay,” he said.
Claire stiffened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. It’s a shock, that’s all. The end of an era.”
“The end of a very bad time and the start of the rest of her life,” she said sharply. “You think she should take the veil or swear a vow of celibacy?”
“No, all I—”
“It’s not like she’ll forget Lee because she gets on with her life and takes a lover. Don’t you dare go making her feel all guilty about getting her needs met!”
“That wasn’t—”
“Hopefully one day she’ll meet someone she can marry…and you’d better be bloody nice to that guy, Nate, when she does. You hear me?”
“I hear you,” he said carefully. “So…are we still talking about Jules?”
She got flustered. “Of course we’re talking about Jules.”
“I thought maybe you were working up to telling me you were seeing someone.”
“Well, I’m not.” Claire folded her arms, realized that was defensive and unfolded them again. “But if I were, I’d expect the same support! You guys can’t expect us to turn into sexless beings.…” Oh, dear God, there was no retrieving this. “I’m off to bed. Good night!”
Without waiting for a response, she swept into her bedroom and jerked the curtain closed, cursing the smallness of the bach, Jules and her own confusion.
She hadn’t cleaned her teeth or washed her face.… Well, she’d wait until he went to bed. In the meantime, Claire sat on hers, dropped her head in her hands and reminded herself that her future was all about control and self-determination. She couldn’t possibly have sexual feelings for Steve’s best friend.
A man subject to mood swings she couldn’t fathom, who didn’t want his buddies or her son to hear he was home. Sure, he’d been sweet to Ellie, but—
Imagine Steve’s mum’s reaction if they—
Exasperated, Claire flung backward onto the bed. Too much champagne had made her a suggestible fool. Well, that was stopping right now.
* * *
N
ATE
FROWNED
at Claire’s departing back and wondered what had just happened here. One “Okaaay” and all hell had broken loose.
He took a tentative step in the direction of her bedroom and stopped. Anything he said now would sound patronizing.
“Of course I can understand Jules wanting to date.… She’s young, she’s attractive, she can’t mourn Lee the rest of her life. He would hate that.”
He felt a deep sadness for his friend’s sake, but it was right and natural that Jules move on, and he honestly wished her all the best in her pursuit of happiness. Then he imagined Claire meeting someone else and experienced such an immediate and visceral rejection he was shocked.
Still frowning, he went into his room and hauled on a sweater. He’d only ever known Claire as his best friend’s wife, and it was hard to accept her as single. Relieved, he raked a hand through his damp hair. Yeah, that was it. In the kitchen, he drained the sink and refilled it with hot water.
Her outburst had surprised her as much as him. Of course she’d be missing sex. “Ouch!” Nate jerked his fingers from the tap, turned it off and added more cold. She was a hot-blooded woman in her prime. He felt the pangs himself, though for Nate, celibacy was a personal choice. Relationships were rife with expectations and he didn’t feel capable of meeting them anymore. His thwarted one-night stand with Mia had been exactly what Claire suspected—a way of holding her at arm’s length.
Forearms deep in soapy dishwater, Nate smiled.
So much for that.
He picked up the dish brush and washed the glasses. No question that when Claire was ready to date, there’d be men lined up. His smile faded.
She had that rare quality of being one of the guys while remaining unquestionably feminine. It must be innate, because he’d seen pampered beauties in Hollywood who couldn’t emulate the gracefulness Claire managed in coveralls. Women might miss it, but men saw it. And when she applied makeup and matched a sexy off-the-shoulder sweater with tights that accentuated her shapely legs… Oh, yeah, when she was ready they’d be lining up.
A champagne flute clunked against the sink and broke in half. Carefully, Nate removed the pieces from the suds. Okay, he didn’t like the idea, but his feelings were irrelevant. If Claire saw herself as single again, he’d just have to deal with it.
He had the opportunity to practice the next day.
The morning started well. After breakfast they walked to the boat shed, same as usual. Claire seemed bent on keeping the conversation strictly business, but Nate figured they needed to clear the air. “About last night,” he said as they walked along the estuary. “I have no objection to Jules dating.”
“I’ll be sure to pass that on.”
“C’mon, Claire, give me a break. It’s natural to feel regret for Lee. That doesn’t mean I don’t want Jules to be happy.”
Or you.
She sighed. “I appreciate that.”
Nate gave her a sidelong glance. “She and Lee weren’t together very long. That must make it easier for her to move on.”
“It’s been over eighteen months, Nate.” Uh-oh, snippy again.
“And she’s an attractive woman,” he soothed. “I’m sure she’s had lots of offers.” He waited. One beat, two. “I imagine a couple come your way too.”
“Amazing, I know.”
“Not at all.” So, did the sarcasm mean Claire wasn’t ready? His spirits lifted. She’d only talked about dating in principle; it might be months before she met someone. When the time came, he’d be happy for her, he really would. “Beautiful day,” he added cheerfully.
The estuary on full tide was a gleaming mirror under a sky of translucent blue, its surface only broken by the occasional small fishing launch puttering out to sea and the shadows of swooping seagulls.
As Claire unlocked the padlock on the boat shed, a white ute pulled up and a middle-aged man climbed out of the cab with a cheery greeting. “Made better time than I thought,” he said as Claire introduced him as John, the canopy guy. Shaking his hand, Nate noted that John was freshly shaven, with recently combed hair and a powerful aura of Old Spice.
“Nate’s an old friend visiting from the States,” Claire said, and the slight crease between John’s eyebrows relaxed.