Short Soup (17 page)

“Have you tried the Caprioskas at the Green Buddha?” she asked.

“Hang on.” Rod pulled a creased napkin from his wallet. “Let’s see … Green Buddha … Green Buddha …” He ran his finger down a list. “Yes. Yes I have. No, they were crap. Didn’t even bother to crush the ice.”

“You’re kidding!” Mei Jing said, outraged. Her heart was beating faster. He wrote lists and carried them around. “OK, how about the Jubilee?”

“Not a chance. They brought me a cappuccino.”

Mei Jing closed her eyes and shook her head in shared disgust. “How about
Andy’s House
? It’s a new reggae place in New Farm?”

“Yes! Let’s go there,” Tina butted in, no longer leaving it up to Mei Jing. This could take all night; besides, she had some mean reggae dance moves. “You coming, Rod?”

“Sure,” said Rod. “I do have an interrogation to finish after all.” He smiled at Mei Jing.

When Rod went inside to say good-bye to his mates, Tina gave Mei Jing her ‘talking to’.

“He’s nice, good looking and at first glance does not appear to have homicidal tendencies. You’ve got to tell him. You like him—tell him.”

“But if I tell him,” said Mei Jing, “the dynamics will change. He’ll like me for what I did for him, not for who I am. It’s too much pressure. Let’s just see how tonight goes.”

“We’re going to his house for a barbie on Sunday,” said Mick. “You can always tell him then.”

“We are?” asked Tina. She pulled out her phone to check her calendar. “We’re supposed to be at home on Sunday morning for Mum’s birthday brunch.”

“I know,” said Mick. “But I can go to your Mum’s, then we can pick M.J up on the way to Stewey’s. I picked up your Mum’s present, by the way.”

“Thanks,” said Tina distractedly as she typed the new appointment into her calendar. “How much do I owe you?”

Mick smiled, shaking his head. “I’ll add it to your tab.”

Andy’s House was actually a house. An old Queenslander, complete with verandahs around three sides, set amongst a small but lush rainforest garden. Inside, the restaurant had polished wooden floors and small candlelit tables. The restaurant was half-full, mostly with couples soaking up the relaxed atmosphere. On one of the side verandahs the reggae band was set up with a dance floor in front. Steps led down into the garden, which had a scattering of outdoor furniture arranged in beer garden style. The whole house was decorated in bright prints, bright table-cloths and flowering pot plants.

Although it was only eight o’clock, it was already buzzing.

“I have a good feeling about this place,” said Rod. “I’ll get the first round.”

Mick hunted down a table while the girls found the bathroom. Mei Jing checked her appearance. Normally she didn’t fuss. Her long, straight black hair rarely did anything but be long, straight black hair. Her eyeliner was intact and she touched up her lip gloss. Done.

Mei Jing watched while her friend did the fussing. Tina added powder, enhancing her naturally fair complexion, added another layer of eyeliner, touched up her eye shadow, brightened her blush, re-did her lipliner and finished with three coats of lipstick. Tina was cute in an under-age kind of way, which was a bit of a drawback when they headed out on the town for a sophisticated night out. Tina often looked like she was playing dress ups.

“Do you think you can get plastic surgery to
add
wrinkles?” Tina asked.

Mei Jing shook her head at her friend. When she’d first met Tina at the Queensland Uni orientation, they were both just out of school, still underage and both scared witless. Tina sat next to Mei Jing in the lecture theatre and after standard small talk introductions, they’d spent the rest of the presentation playing hangman.

Luckily for both of them, Mick, who was a year older and therefore so very much more experienced, took it upon himself to show the girls the ropes. He got them false ID’s, taught them how to skull a beer, and introduced them to Sunday sessions at the Regatta Hotel. He protected them from sleazebags, carried them home when they fell over drunk and expected nothing more than to be introduced to their gorgeous girlfriends—most of whom he slept with and then moved on.

Eight years later they still watched out for each other. Tina had only lasted a semester at Uni before deferring, promising to come back. She never did and was now a barista at a funky coffee shop in New Farm.

“You don’t need to add wrinkles,” said Mei Jing. “You just need to dress like an old woman. You know, floral prints and big vinyl handbags.”

Tina pretended to gag. She was wearing black satin shorts and a black halter top with dangling gold ear-rings and, of course, ridiculously high heels. Mei Jing was certain Tina would choose unnecessary surgery over floral prints.

“Come on. Let’s go,” said Tina. “I’m thinking tonight could be my lucky night. Mr. Right might be out there now, just waiting for me to walk by.”

Mick had secured a table in the garden near the dance floor. Rod still hadn’t returned with their drinks, so Mei Jing went to check on him.

She found him at the bar, an enraptured expression on his face. “Check this out!” he said excitedly. “They actually heated the sugar till it melted, then added vodka, then they’ve crushed the lime with a mortar and pestle. Look at the effort going into this.”

It was impressive. The bar tender, pleased that his endeavours were being appreciated, was working with flair. He added umbrellas, and with flourish, presented the drinks to Rod.

Rod paid and they headed outside just as Mick and Tina got up to dance.

“OK—let’s do this together,” he said. “1 … 2 … 3.” They both sipped at their drink and then waited for the others’ judgement.

“Best in Brisbane?” asked Mei Jing finally.

Rod took another sip. “I’ve … I mean … We’ve found it,” he said reverently. “The best Caprioska in Brisbane. I’ve been searching for months and here it is. And it’s all because of you.” He looked gratefully at Mei Jing. “I have so much to thank you for, Mei Jing. Where would I be without you?”

Mei Jing smiled.
There’s a story
.

‘I should be on top,’ the willowy blonde protested.

She sat on the bench in front of Garth with her back against his chest and her butt nestled between his thighs. He stifled a groan. What red-blooded male wouldn’t misconstrue that statement?

His brain had been in sex mode since she’d pulled on her jumpsuit. She’d leaned forward and the neck of her T-shirt had gaped to reveal generous breasts only just covered by the cups of her lacy white bra. He’d fought hard to concentrate on her training, too rusty at flirting to make a comment, but now the image of her sitting naked on top of him returned in full force.

He attached the last clip of his safety harness to the one on her right shoulder and chuckled in her ear. ‘That’s kind of forward, Chloe, considering we’ve only known each other for thirty minutes. But I’m not going to argue with you.’

The aeroplane’s engines roared, but she’d obviously heard him because she glared reproachfully over her shoulder and her cheeks turned a delightful rosy pink. Her dancing eyes told him she wasn’t really insulted though. ‘I meant when we freefall. That way, if the chute doesn’t open I have something soft to land on.’

‘This way’s best, believe me. For now, at least.’ He shouldn’t be teasing her, but pleasure surged through him when her lips curved at his suggestive comment.

Their gazes met, locked. Her eyes mirrored the bright blue of the New Zealand summer sky outside the Cessna’s windows. Something passed between them, invisible, chemical, and his heartbeat raced. A tingle began between his shoulder blades and descended all the way down his spine.

Then she lowered her long lashes, breaking the spell, and Garth frowned. What was he doing? True, a soft female bottom tucked against the groin would make most guys harden faster than quick-set concrete, let alone a man who hadn’t taken a woman to bed for an ice age. But even though he did tandem parachute jumps for a living, and strapped himself to the fairer sex anything up to a dozen times a week, he rarely gave the intimate position a thought.

He was happy to admit he missed the regular sex a relationship brought. But the emotional baggage he carried after Jess’s death meant he hadn’t even looked at another woman in ages. Why had this one affected him so much?

He watched her examine her shaking hands. She’d braided her long hair back, although a few wisps softened her hairline. Before they’d got on the plane, her skin had held a healthy tan like most young Kiwi women, a stark contrast to the pale skin of the girls he’d grown up with in Seattle, although now the colour had drained from her face.

He tipped his head to the side, studying her high cheekbones and straight nose, and smiled as she chewed her bottom lip. That was another reason why he’d reacted to her words. In spite of her attempt at humour, her anxiety was palpable. The urge to alleviate it had risen inside him instinctively.

He admired the way she was trying to cover her fear. He’d jumped with hundreds of people over the past year and had witnessed every gamut of emotion from exhilaration to fake bravado to downright terror. Chloe didn’t quite register at the bottom of the scale, but she wasn’t far from it. Her face now matched the whiteness of the clouds scudding outside, and she shook in her thick yellow jumpsuit.

He forced his mind away from the press of her between his thighs and the softness of her throat inches from his lips, and tried to concentrate. Now wasn’t the time to get distracted. He had to remember, ‘safety before sex’.

Smiling at the catchphrase, he checked all the clips connecting his harness to hers. Then he went over them again. Bottom left, bottom right, top left, top right. And again. ‘You’re all clipped in, Chloe. Check with me, okay?’

‘Okay.’ She lifted her right hand, and he moved it to either side of her waist and then to each shoulder. She tugged the clips with long, elegant fingers. An image popped into his head of that hand stroking his body and closing around him.

Jeez. He had to stop thinking about sex for five seconds.

He cleared his throat. ‘All secure. Are you happy?’

‘Right now I’m too terrified to be happy.’ Her forehead glistened with sweat and panic filled her eyes.

He sighed. Damn it. Another mule. Sometimes customers got all the way to the door before they dug their heels in and refused to jump. It didn’t occur as often as he’d expected when he first set up the business. In fact, it had only happened to him twice, and both times he’d managed to talk the person into jumping. They’d thanked him afterward, but he’d much rather have the sort of passenger who didn’t balk.

He understood why most people suffered from nerves before throwing themselves out of a flying metal box with a tiny piece of fabric to hold them up. But being nervous and being petrified weren’t the same thing, and Chloe obviously fit into the second category. He frowned as her chest rose and fell noticeably with her rapid breathing. Why leap out of a plane if the very thought of it terrified her?

His first ever jump remained clear in his mind, but he had no memory of terror or panic, only elation at the thought of freefalling into the clear blue. He still got that buzz every time he leaped out the door, which was the main reason he kept doing it. Because the second his feet left the safety of the plane was the only moment he actually felt anything nowadays.

Or it had been, until he met Chloe. His skin prickled as he recalled the heated look they’d exchanged. But he blinked and forced his mind away from the thought of taking it further. He shouldn’t be thinking about sex. Chloe shook visibly, and he had to reassure her and make this as pleasurable an experience as possible.

He rested his hands on her upper arms and rubbed them through the long sleeves of the jumpsuit. In late January – the height of the New Zealand summer – the temperature read in the mid-twenties on the ground, but at this altitude the air had a distinct bite to it.

‘Are you cold?’ he asked.

‘N-no.’ She shivered in spite of her denial.

He continued to rub her arms, lending her the warmth of his body, and glanced at Andy sitting opposite them, who’d be skydiving with them to video her jump. Andy raised an eyebrow, presumably to query whether she’d go through with it. Garth shrugged in return.

‘You okay there, little lady?’ His tone was gentle, comforting. ‘Won’t be long now, and then it’ll be time to go. No more waiting.’ The anticipation was the worst part for most people.

She nodded and swallowed, but didn’t reply.

He tipped his head to look at her profile again and tried to think of something to say to reassure her. ‘I’ve done this hundreds of times. Don’t worry – everything will go like clockwork.’

She closed her eyes. The pulse beat frantically in her throat. She gnawed on her bottom lip again and continued to shake in his arms.

He had to distract her or she’d be unable to move off the bench. ‘Why do you smell of chocolate?’ He’d been wondering since she first sat in front of him.

She opened her eyes and looked over her shoulder at him again, eyebrows raised. Then she released her plump bottom lip from between her teeth and smiled. ‘I’m a chocolatier.’ She sniffed the back of her hand. ‘I guess the smell must have seeped into my skin. Like when a person works in a fish and chip shop.’

The mention of chocolate made him think of Nick Stewart, owner of Cocoa Heaven, the confectionary shop in the nearby town of Paihia. Garth’s stomach twisted as he thought of the man who’d taken his wife. Bile rose in his throat, and he closed his eyes. He wouldn’t reflect on that now. Making a jump demanded absolute concentration. Unlike Stewart, he would not be responsible for another person’s death.

He opened his eyes. Chloe was looking at him. Concentrating on her might help take his mind off the man.

He lost himself for a moment in her eyes. They really were a beautiful deep blue, his favourite colour. He liked anything that reminded him of the sky…of freedom.

She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. His gaze slid to her mouth, and she inhaled. The air between them crackled with sexual electricity, and his heart raced again. Bad idea, Rowland. Jumping with a hard-on would probably affect wind resistance. Plus it seemed impolite to strap himself to a customer and then press his erection into her butt.