Falling for Mr. Mysterious

As they sipped their warm drinks, they talked about the movie, debating the significance of some of the plot twists.

‘The scriptwriters certainly knew all about crime and the underbelly of society,’ Emily suggested. Across the lamplit table, she narrowed her eyes at Jude. ‘So do you, actually. It shows in your books. How do you do it? How do you get inside the mind of a hardened criminal?’

‘I research,’ he answered simply.

‘Yes, I guessed that, but how? Who do you talk to?’

‘Hardened criminals.’

He said this so dryly and with such a poker face that, momentarily, she almost fell for it.

Then, matching his dry tone, she replied. ‘So you’re telling me it’s not safe to associate with you.’

This time his eyes twinkled. ‘Touché. Of course, you’re safe.’

There was a moment, as their gazes met across the table, when Emily felt a kind of woozy warmth that was totally unfitting.

‘Seriously,’ she said abruptly, shaking off the feeling. ‘I’m interested in how you make your stories so real.’

‘Seriously,’ Jude said, ‘I have contacts with the police and in the military. I’ve grilled them mercilessly about their work. I’ve spent full days with a firearms instructor, and another day observing Army commando training. I’ve even taken part, so I know what it feels like to be cuffed, down on the ground and immobile while a tactical unit performs a mock hostage rescue.’

With a smile, he said, ‘And now I’ve met a bank manager, and that could be very handy, too. I can imagine all sorts of scenarios involving a heist and a beautiful banking boss.’

Heat flamed in Emily’s cheeks, and she pressed her hands against the patches of warmth, hoping to hide them. She couldn’t believe she was blushing simply because Jude had implied she was beautiful. Of all the ridiculous reactions.

Why should she blush over this man’s completely nonsexual assessment of her looks?

To cover her silly reaction, she made a joke against herself. ‘Just my luck, one of the robbers will turn out to be a former boyfriend.’ Then, quickly, she steered the subject safely away from herself. ‘What about your current book? Where’s it set?’

‘The Gold Coast. But I’m beginning to think it’s a bit too close to home. I prefer more distant settings.’

‘Why? Does your imagination work better at a distance?’

He looked at her with surprise. ‘Yes, I think it does.’ Then he frowned. ‘Are you pretending to be interested, or are you genuinely curious?’

‘I’m genuine. Honestly. Why do you ask?’

Jude shook his head. ‘I was just wondering … I wouldn’t have expected a bank manager to be interested in fiction.’

‘You’re stereotyping,’ she accused with rather more iciness than she actually felt.

‘Yeah. It’s a failing.’ Jude’s unrepentant gaze flickered over her and then swept around the crowded café and the chattering customers gathered in the booths. ‘I know it’s not polite to mention this, but your clothes seem very—or should I say—extremely fashionable. Not quite what I’d expected from a little place like Wandabilla.’

‘Is this another example of your narrow views?’

‘I’m afraid it is.’ He confessed this without a hint of remorse. ‘But I’m genuinely curious. Is it a status thing?’

‘I … I suppose it might be.’ Emily hadn’t been asked this question before, but there were a lot of wealthy farmers who conducted their business at her bank and classy clothes had become her armour. For a young woman to hang on to a position of power, she had to win respect any way she could.

At least, this was what she’d told herself, but she sometimes wondered if her efforts to acquire a perfect career and a perfect wardrobe were compensation for her lack of a perfect relationship.

‘So where do you shop?’ Jude asked. ‘Do you travel to the city?’

‘Not often. I do almost all my shopping online.’ She gave a little laugh. ‘I love the Internet. If I ever give up my current job, I think I’ll develop some kind of business I can run online.’

Thinking about the Internet, however, brought back sickening memories of Michael-slash-Mark.

Emily wasn’t sure how long she sat there, sunk in miserable memories.

Eventually, she heard Jude’s voice.

‘Are you OK?’

He asked this solicitously, just as Alex might have, and she couldn’t help answering honestly. ‘I’m very mad with myself for wasting a whole year on a relationship that was never going anywhere.’

‘It’s not easy to see through a practised conman. They’re usually consummate charmers.’ Jude’s face was surprisingly fierce. ‘My father was like that—having affairs all over the place.’

His hands were clenched into fists on the tabletop. ‘And then my mother punished him by having revenge affairs.’

He looked so upset, Emily stopped thinking about her own worries. She was imagining Jude growing up with unhappy parents. At least her problems hadn’t started until she’d left home.

Their conversation, she realised, had suddenly gone deeper. Jude’s grey eyes were as hard as granite, as if just thinking about his parents changed him completely.

‘Have you ever talked to Alex about this?’ she asked.

Jude looked startled. ‘No.’

‘It’s just that he’s very good at laying ghosts to rest.’

‘Yes, I can imagine he would be.’ Then Jude gave a shake, as if ridding himself of unwanted memories.

They lapsed into silence and Emily finished off her chocolate. ‘I’m sure I have a moustache.’ With an embarrassed smile, she reached for a paper napkin.

‘Here, let me.’

To her surprise, Jude took the napkin from her and dabbed at her upper lip. The pressure of his fingers so close to her mouth felt strangely intimate and he was looking at her with an intensity that stole her breath.

After what felt like an age, he blinked like someone coming out of a trance, then dropped the napkin onto his saucer. ‘What were we talking about?’

Emily’s mind had gone blank. To her dismay, she found herself thinking how attractive he was, and how the message in his grey eyes had made her feel strangely knife-edgy and weightless. And there was a vibe between them, an impossible awareness that was very confusing.

Surely her imagination was playing tricks on her? There must be something wrong with her. After her debacle with Michael, she couldn’t possibly be interested in any man for ages. Right now, a life of celibacy had huge appeal and, anyway, Jude wasn’t even available.

She made a flustered, helpless gesture, hoping to break the strange spell that seemed to have fallen over her, and promptly knocked the pepper pot. Next moment she was sneezing, then floundering in her bag for tissues.