Terms Of Engagement

‘Fine.’ He nodded towards the card that she still held in her hand. ‘Meanwhile, think about my offer.’

Was that why he had asked her out? she wondered as she watched him walking away from her across the deserted bar. Or was she just being cynical?

She wondered if she had made a mistake accepting his invitation. Then she shrugged to herself. She was only thirty-two—too young to lock herself away in a convent. She could have fun, just as long as she didn’t allow herself to get serious.

Trouble was, Frazer McClarran was seriously attractive.

CHAPTER THREE

JON phoned as soon as he arrived in the village and suggested that Emma meet him for a drink that evening. He needed instructions on how to get to her property. Also, he wanted to discuss his requirements for filming.

So it was that Emma found herself strolling into the Traveller’s Rest again the next evening. It was a wet September night, and Emma wished she had worn trousers. Not only was she cold, but the long floral skirt and black cashmere jumper suddenly didn’t feel casual enough. She didn’t want Jon to think she had made any kind of effort to impress him.

She put her umbrella in the stand by the door and peered into the bar. Unlike yesterday afternoon, when she had sat in there with Frazer, the room was packed. There was a huge log fire blazing in the stone fireplace and a smell of pine smoke mingled with the smell of malt whisky.

Her eyes flicked with apprehension over the crowd. She didn’t see Jon, but she did see Frazer McClarran. He was standing in the doorway of what was probably the private function room, judging by the thumping music coming from it.

It was his friend’s stag night this evening, she remembered.

He wore a dark suit and a blue shirt open at the neck. He looked fabulous. There was no other word to describe him. He glanced across, met her eyes and smiled. She felt her heart jolt against her chest as if a burst of electricity had shot through her.

‘Emma.’ A voice distracted her. ‘Emma, over here.’

She looked over towards the corner of the room. Jon was sitting at a table by himself.

He stood up as she made her way across towards him. It was nearly two years since she had last seen her ex-husband, but he didn’t seem to have changed. He was thirty-six now, yet he had the same blond smooth good looks, the same trendy way of dressing, as if he had just come off a Milan catwalk.

‘Hello, Emma,’ he said, a husky note in his voice.

She felt herself stiffen awkwardly as he reached to kiss her on the cheek.

He didn’t seem to notice, just smiled at her. His hand rested a moment too long at her waist.

‘Hello, Jon.’ She stepped back from him. ‘Where is your colleague?’

‘Lesley won’t be joining me until tomorrow.’ He pulled out a chair for her.

‘I see.’ Emma was disappointed, she had been hoping there would be a third person present. It would have kept things more firmly on a business footing.

‘Can I get you a drink?’ he asked politely.

‘Just an orange juice, thanks. I can’t stay long.’

He frowned. ‘I was hoping you might join me for some supper. I haven’t eaten yet, and you know how I hate to eat alone.’

Yes, she did. She knew so much about him, she thought suddenly, her eyes moving over the firm contours of his face, the deep ocean-blue of his eyes. You didn’t share four years of your life with someone without getting to know all the little things about them. Their pet hates, their passions.

‘I can’t, Jon. I’m sorry. I’ve already eaten.’ That was a lie. She hadn’t been able to face any food tonight because she had been so uptight before she came out. But she wouldn’t spend any more time with Jon than was absolutely necessary.

‘I see.’ He sounded disappointed. ‘I’ll get you that drink, then.’

She watched as he walked to the bar. Then her eyes moved back to the doorway where Frazer had been standing a few moments ago. He had gone. Returned to the party, presumably. The door was closed and the muffled music that filtered through sounded like the kind played when someone was stripping. As it was a stag night, she supposed whatever was going on was typically raucous.

She imagined Frazer leaning against a bar watching some glamorous, curvaceous woman as she peeled off her clothing. For some reason the picture this conjured up was intensely unsettling.

Jon returned with their drinks. ‘So how have you been?’ he asked, taking the seat opposite.

‘Fine. And you?’

‘Great.’ He paused. ‘I was really stunned when I heard you’d moved up here, Emma. Whatever possessed you to bury yourself in a place like this?’

‘I’m really happy here, Jon.’

He didn’t look convinced.

‘I believe congratulations are in order for you and Gina,’ she continued, her manner brisk. ‘I heard that you’ve become a father since I last saw you.’

‘Yes.’ He smiled and took out his wallet, flipping it open to slide a photograph towards her.

She looked at the cute baby, all smiles and dimples, and a part of her heart contracted with pain and regret. ‘She’s beautiful,’ she said honestly. ‘I’m happy for you.’

‘Yes, she’s the light of my life,’ Jon said simply. ‘We called her Bethany. She’ll be one next week.’

Emma smiled and slid the photograph back to him. ‘And how is Gina?’ she asked politely.

‘She’s left me. Our divorce is just about finalised.’

The stark words made Emma sit back in shock. ‘I didn’t know.’

‘She has custody of Bethany, but I’ll have access. We’re just working out the details.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ Emma said softly.

He shrugged. ‘In many ways I suppose we weren’t compatible. Not like you and I.’ Jon’s voice had taken on that husky quality she remembered so well, and his eyes were gentle on her face. ‘I’ve been thinking about you a lot recently, Emma, thinking about what I lost when we parted.’

Alarm bells started to ring inside her. She didn’t know what she had expected to happen when she saw her ex-husband again. She had been prepared to feel pain, regret, maybe, but she had never imagined for one moment he would get sentimental.

‘Jon, I’m a different person now.’ Swiftly, she changed the subject. ‘So, about the location for your film. I took the liberty of bringing a few photographs of my house.’

Before she could pick up her bag to find them, he waved the idea aside. ‘There’s no point in my looking through them now. I’ll come out tomorrow and see the place for myself, take a few of my own photographs with a wide-angle lens.’

He regarded her steadily over his glass of whisky. ‘Strange how fate has brought us together again. If I hadn’t bumped into your old friend Tori I might never have found your hiding place.’

‘I’m not hiding myself away, Jon.’ She frowned. ‘What a strange thing to say.’

‘Is it?’ His blue eyes were piercing in their intensity. ‘I’ve missed you, Emma. I can’t tell you how much.’

The gently spoken words made her heart contract painfully.