No, he wouldn’t!
Bloody hell. Get a grip, man. This is a businessarrangement. He tried to spell out the word in his head—B-U-S… It was a sort of business arrangement, he amended. He wanted to help Jaz the way she’d helped him. He wanted to prove to her that Clara Falls was more than Mr Sears and his pointed conservatism. He wanted her to see the good here— the way Frieda had. Instinct told him Jaz needed to do at least that much. If she wanted to leave at the end of twelve months after that, then all power to her.
He glanced down into her face and tried to harden himself against the soft promise of her lips…and the lush promise of her body.
Gwen strode down the hallway. ‘Are you okay, Connor?’
He realised he still hadn’t uttered a word. ‘Uh…’ He cleared his throat, ran a finger around the inside collar of his dress shirt. ‘These things cut a man’s windpipe in two. I feel as trussed up as a Sunday roast.’
‘You look damn fine in it, though.’
‘You’re looking pretty stunning yourself,’ manners made him shoot back at her. In truth, with Jaz in the same room he barely saw Gwen. He had a vague impression of red and that was about it.
Jaz folded her arms and glared at him. Man, what had he done now? He turned back to Gwen. ‘Who’s your date tonight, then?’
Gwen shook her head. ‘I’m going stag this year. I don’t want to be shackled to any man. Not when there’ll be so many eligible males to choose from this evening.’
Fair enough. ‘Need a lift?’
‘No, thank you. I mean to be fashionably late.’
‘Do you expect me to be shackled to you all evening?’ Jaz demanded.
He stiffened. Yes, dammit!
He rolled his shoulders. No, dammit.
So much for relaxation. ‘We arrive together. We leave together. We eat together. First dance and last dance.’ He rattled each item off. They were non-negotiable as far as he was concerned. ‘Fair enough?’ he barked at her. They’d settle this before they left.
She didn’t bat an eye. ‘Fair enough,’ she agreed.
The pulse at the base of his throat started to slow. He found he could breathe again. He meant to negotiate more than two dances out of her, come hell or high water. He meant to hold her in his arms, enjoy the feel of her, safe in the knowledge that nothing could happen in such a public place.
He turned to find Gwen staring at him with narrowed eyes. He gulped. ‘I…er…want her to schmooze,’ he tried to explain.
‘I just bet you do,’ she returned with evil knowingness.
‘I…’ He couldn’t think of a damn thing to say.
Jaz jumped in. ‘Did you know that Connor is planning to challenge Gordon Sears for the town councillor position at the next election?’
Gwen’s jaw dropped. ‘Are you serious? But you’re not some power-hungry nob.’
‘No, he’s not.’ Satisfaction threaded through Jaz’s voice. ‘Which should make him the perfect candidate, don’t you think?’
He stood a little straighter at her praise, pushed his shoulders back.
‘It at least makes him better than Gordon Sears, but enough of that.’ Gwen dismissed the subject with a wave of her hand. ‘Make Jaz’s day and tell her the move is complete.’
‘It’s all done.’ His men had moved Jaz’s things out of his garage and into her flat today. He hadn’t helped move those things. Whenever he’d driven into the garage, walked through the garage, walked past the garage, and saw her things there, he’d had an insane urge to go through them to try and discover a clue as to how she’d spent the last eight years. He hadn’t. He wouldn’t. But he’d put himself out of temptation’s way today and had taken Mel for a hot chocolate and another skyway ride instead. ‘You can move in and start unpacking as early as tomorrow if you want.’
When he’d driven the van into the garage this afternoon and found all her things gone, it had left a hole inside him as big as the Jamison Valley. Why?
Because you’re an idiot, that’s why. Because youstill want her.
He ground his teeth together. He’d made a lot of mistakes in the last eight years, but he wasn’t making that one. Not again. He would not kiss Jaz. He would not make love to Jaz. He would not get involved with Jaz.
Never again.
He had to think of Mel. His daughter already adored Jaz more than he thought wise. He didn’t want Mel thinking of Jaz as anything other than a friend.
It would be hard enough for Mel to cope with Jaz leaving in twelve months’ time, let alone…
He ran a finger around the inside of his collar again. Let alone anything more. End of story.
‘I’ll move into the flat on Monday,’ he heard Jaz tell Gwen. ‘I’m hoping business will be brisk in the bookshop tomorrow.’
She was working tomorrow? They’d better not make it a late night then. His jaw tightened. Not that he’d intended on making it a late night.
He tried to get his brain onto business and away from the personal. ‘How are the new staff members working out?’ She’d spent the last four days training staff the recruitment agency in Katoomba had sent her.
‘So well that I’m planning on taking Monday and Tuesday off to unpack and set the flat up properly. I’ll only be a shout away if needed.’
‘Good. It’s about time you stopped working so hard and took a couple of days off. If you’re not careful you’ll make yourself ill.’
Her eyes widened and he thrust his hands in his pockets with a scowl. That comment had been way too personal. He started to spell businesslike out in his mind again.
Speculation fired to life in Gwen’s face. She raised an eyebrow at Jaz. Jaz pressed her lips together and gave one tight shake of her head. Connor adjusted his tie. It seemed a whole lot tighter now than it had when he’d left home.
Gwen laughed. ‘You two give off as much heat as you ever did.’
His collar tightened until he thought he’d choke. Jaz’s eyes all but started from her head.
Jaz swung to him. ‘Speaking of heat…’
He wondered if he’d ever breathe again.
‘…is the town hall still heated? Or should I change into something warmer? Something with longer sleeves?’
‘Don’t change!’ The words burst out of him with revealing rapidity.
He coughed and quickly overrode Gwen’s triumphant ‘Aha!’
He rapped out, ‘It gets uncomfortably warm in the town hall. You’ll be grateful for those short sleeves once the dancing starts.’
‘Okay.’ She gazed at him expectantly for a moment, then finally sighed. ‘I’ll get my handbag and wrap and then we can leave.’
The town hall was festooned with ribbons and pine cones, with fragrant boughs of eucalyptus. Beneath it all, Connor could smell the tantalising scent of wattle. He and Jaz paused as they crossed the threshold, and Connor had to bite back a grin when one section of the hall—Gordon Sears and his set— broke off their conversation around a table of hors d’oeuvres to turn and stare.