Falling for Mr. Mysterious

Jude Marlowe was still typing at his laptop when the doorbell rang. He was in the midst of a thought, a decent thought, one of the few he’d come up with that day. He was trying to get it onto the page so he continued typing, despite the doorbell, knowing that if he stopped, the precious words would be lost, never to be recalled.

The bell rang again, with a slight air of desperation. Fortunately, the last sentence was captured and Jude saved his work and pushed away from the desk. Taking off his reading glasses, he rubbed at the bridge of his nose, then stood unhurriedly and stretched, rolling his shoulders in a bid to ease the tension that always locked in when he became too absorbed in his writing.

The caller would be Alex’s young cousin. Jude had received a garbled message that she needed a bed for a few nights and so he’d manfully hidden his reluctance to socialise and assured Alex that he’d oblige. Apparently, she’d had boyfriend trouble and was suffering from a broken heart.

Another of Alex’s lame ducks, Jude thought wryly, knowing he was one, too.

He was in the hallway, blinking at the darkness—was it really that late?—before he gave a thought to his appearance. Still in the clothes he’d dragged on in the morning, he was wearing old, badly ripped jeans and a baggy, ancient football jersey, stained at the neck and worn at the elbows. Not exactly suitable for receiving Alex’s houseguest, but it was too late to do anything about it. The girl at the door would be getting impatient.

Jude turned on the light as he pulled the door open and a yellow glow spilled, golden and honey-warm, over the chilled figure outside. At first sight of her, he felt deprived of oxygen.

Later, he asked himself what he’d been expecting, and he realised that if he’d given Alex’s lovelorn country cousin any thought at all, he’d mentally classified her as frumpy and miserable. An unfashionable, possibly plain, country mouse.

How wrong he was.

The girl standing before Jude in a stylish white wool coat and knee-high brown leather boots was a stunner. Her red-gold hair flowed softly over her white lapels, making him think of fire on snow. Her face was delicate yet full of character.

And while there was a hint of sadness about her blue eyes, her skin showed no sign of country mouse freckles. Her complexion was fair and smooth, her chin neat, her mouth curving and smiley.

She looked, at first glance, like all Jude’s female fantasies rolled into one hot package.

He found himself silenced to the point of stupidity.

‘You must be Jude?’ she enquired, tilting her head to one side and smiling cautiously.

‘Sure.’ Somehow, he remembered his manners. ‘And you must be Emily.’

‘Yes. Emily Silver, Alex’s cousin.’ She held out her hand. ‘How do you do, Jude? Alex said he’d warned you about me.’

‘Yes, he rang.’ But the warning had been totally inadequate, Jude realised now. He’d planned to offer the barest courtesies as a host and then leave Emily Silver to mend her heart in whichever way she needed to. He still planned to do that, but already he knew she wouldn’t be easy to ignore.

‘I must say it’s very kind of you to take me in at such short notice.’ She shook his hand, and it was a ridiculously electrifying experience.

‘You’re very welcome.’ Jude spoke gruffly to cover his dazed dismay. Then he noticed her suitcase. ‘I’ll get that for you.’

‘Oh, thanks. And I’ve brought wine.’ With a dazzling smile, she held up a brown paper bag. ‘A bottle of each.’

There was a slight shuffle in the doorway as he stepped forward to reach for the luggage while Emily came inside. Their bodies brushed briefly. Damn. Jude couldn’t believe he was reacting this way. He’d had more than his fair share of girlfriends, but this evening his body was reacting as if he’d been cast away on a desert island and Emily was the first woman he’d seen in two decades.

‘Oh, it’s lovely and warm inside,’ she was saying.

Jude nodded, adding grouchily, ‘Alex’s room is down the hall, as I’m sure you remember. First on the left.’

In the doorway to the master bedroom, Emily paused and sent a dimpling smile back to him over her shoulder. ‘Wow. I’ve never stayed in this room. I’ll be able to enjoy the amazing view of the river from Alex’s bed.’

‘No doubt.’ Jude set the suitcase on the floor just inside the doorway, angry that the mere mention of the word bed set his mind diving into fantasy land. Refusing to meet her animated gaze, he said tersely, ‘You settle in. I’ll … ah … be in the kitchen.’

In the kitchen, he stared disconsolately at the contents of the refrigerator while he rated himself as several versions of a fool. It made absolutely no sense that he’d been sideswiped by Alex’s country cousin.

Sure, she was a looker. But her beauty was irrelevant in this situation. She’d come to the city to escape from a low-lying jerk of a boyfriend, while Jude had problems of his own. He was in the city for medical tests that freaked the hell out of him.

And yet, when he’d seen Emily on the doorstep, there’d been an out-of-this-world moment when he’d forgotten all of this. Now, he’d plummeted back to earth. And to common sense.

Emily was sharing this apartment, and yes, he’d promised Alex that he would keep an eye on her. But that could be covered by token exchanges. A few courteous words. Now and again. Nothing more than the most superficial hospitality was required.

He was grateful to have that sorted. He need show no more than cursory interest in this guest, which was just as well, considering everything that lay ahead of him.

Emily wondered if she’d made a terrible mistake as she sank onto the edge of Alex’s king-size bed.

She was imposing on Alex’s flatmate, and she could tell from the moment she’d first seen Jude that he wasn’t thrilled about her sudden arrival. Now cold hopelessness washed over her as she saw her flight to Brisbane as just another mistake among the many mistakes she’d made lately.

She would have to reassure Jude that she wouldn’t stay. Problem was, she wasn’t ready to go back to Wandabilla, either. So, in the morning, she would have to check out accommodation options.

In the meantime … she would try to be as little trouble as possible for Jude.

He was very different from Alex. She’d seen this immediately. Physically, the two men were poles apart. Her cousin shared her auburn colouring and he was slim and scholarly-looking, while Jude was tall and dark, with the broad-shouldered, lean-hipped build of a man of action. Not too rugged or too chiselled, his looks were nicely in between.

But, of course, Alex always had good taste in men.

After taking off her coat, but not bothering to unpack, Emily went through to the kitchen and discovered another difference from Alex. Jude was no cook.

There was absolutely no action at the stove. In fact, Jude was standing in the middle of the kitchen, staring at the open pantry cupboard and scratching his head.

When he saw her, he gave an offhand shrug. ‘I’m afraid I never think much about food when I’m caught up with my work.’

‘Please, don’t worry about feeding me,’ she assured him. ‘I’m happy to look after myself.’ The last thing she wanted was to be any bother, but curiosity prompted her to ask, ‘What sort of work do you do?’

Jude frowned, then spoke with obvious reluctance. ‘I’m a writer, so I work from home, but I’m totally disorganized when it comes to meals. Sometimes I heat up a tin of soup for my dinner, but since I’ve been here in West End, I’ve mostly eaten takeaway.’

Emily guessed he was missing Alex’s gourmet cooking. ‘Honestly, I’m happy with takeaway,’ she insisted. ‘I know there’s a host of great restaurants here. I could pop out now, if you like, and get something for both of us.’

She smiled, hoping to show Alex’s flatmate that she really wanted to fit in as smoothly as possible. But smiling didn’t seem to work with this man. His gaze darted away.

‘I’ll come with you,’ he said.

‘Are you sure?’

‘I promised Alex I’d look after you.’

She almost told him not to bother. She was perfectly capable of walking a block or two to the shops, but she didn’t want to start off on a bad footing. ‘OK. I’ll grab my coat and a scarf.’

They met again in the hallway, and Emily saw that Jude had changed lightning-fast into less tattered jeans as well as outdoor boots and a thick black woollen sweater.

Gosh—he was actually rather good-looking. Lucky Alex. Under other circumstances—circumstances in which she wasn’t totally ‘over men’ and Jude Marlowe wasn’t gay and standoffish—she might have taken second or third looks at him. And more, right now, she would have been far happier if he’d been less attractive, but empathetic and warm, like Alex.

Clearly this wasn’t the case, and she would have to nurse her sorrows on her own. At any rate, she was relieved to be in the company of a man she could trust not to make a move on her.

Outside on the footpath, the wind made their cheeks pink, but Emily was snug in her coat and the air was in-vigorating—a beautiful clear and crisp winter’s night in the city.