Chapter Four
Dan knew Jo had realized he wasn’t playing games as soon as he saw her striding down Main Street.
Through the plate-glass storefront she looked like a gunfighter at the O.K. Corral, purposeful, with a determined set to her delicate chin as she steeled herself to shoot down the buddy who’d gone loco.
Knowing her so well, he could even see she was a little frightened that he was so willfully destroying the status quo.
“Earth to Daniel, can we concentrate please?” He returned his attention to Barry, who was rifling through the racks of suits labeled Special Occasions. “I’m hearing a no to the cummerbund and bow tie?”
“You know me, Baz. A man of simple tastes.” Except in women. “You choose.”
Dan glanced through the window. Jo stood at the traffic lights, arms folded, foot tapping impatiently as she waited for the green.
The last time he’d seen her—at Auckland Hospital after the funerals—she’d been recovering from surgery on a rotator cuff injury after a fall on her shoulder. Even shattered by grief Dan had seen she wasn’t well enough to hear what he was going through so he’d said he was coping.
Barry’s exasperated voice broke into his reverie.
“Daniel Jansen, I’ve said the same thing three times.” His friend planted his hands on his slim hips. “Black or charcoal gray for the stroller coat?”
“Charcoal gray.” Outside Jo had been waylaid by a well-wisher. He watched her gesticulate, shaking her head. He smiled. “The color of the bride’s eyes when she’s pissed.”
“We need a contrasting color for the waistcoat and tie.” Barry flicked through the racks. “Taupe is hot this season.”
Dan was momentarily diverted. “What the hell color is taupe?”
“Fawn.” Barry pulled out a waistcoat to show him. “Is the bride going to be in white or ivory? You don’t want clashes on the day.”
“I think the clashes might be earlier than that.” The anemic sun caught her auburn hair. The new-look hairstyle feathered around her cheekbones. It suited her.
“So the waistcoat…full back or backless?”
“Full back sounds more manly.”
Barry grinned. “Not secure in your masculinity, sweetie?”
“Not with my bride bearing down on us. Hide the scissors.”
The bell above the door jangled and Jo swept in. “What the hell is going on?” she demanded.
“We were discussing taupe,” he said mildly.
Barry glanced from one to the other. “He wasn’t supposed to come without you, was he? The naughty boy. Jo, I like your suit.”
“Thanks.” She took in the row of tuxedos and narrowed her gaze on Dan. “This farce has gone far enough.”
“Now, why can’t you just be swept away by the romance of it all?” Dan complained. “Baz, forget taupe. Give me a waistcoat in silver.”
Jo grabbed the garment first. “Oh, yeah, very romantic. Organizing a wedding without the consent of the bride.” Dan started to reach in his jean pocket. “And if you bring out the damn beer mat again, Jansen, I’ll ram it down your throat.” She handed the silver waistcoat to Barry. “Of course he’s not serious.”
Dan raised his brows. “Why aren’t I?”
“I don’t even know why we’re having this conversation.” Exasperated, she turned on him. “For one, I’m not interested in marriage and kids anymore. With anyone. For two, you never were.”
“Groom’s prerogative to change his mind.” Dan reached past her for the waistcoat. “But not the bride’s.”
Jo caught his hand in a death grip. “I’m trying to be diplomatic here.”
He laughed. So did Barry.
“I’m making a list of aiders and abettors,” she warned and Barry looked to him for guidance. Dan freed his hand from Jo’s and gestured for the waistcoat.
Barry dithered. “You’re both my friends…. I don’t know whose side to take.”
“Mine,” Jo ordered.
Dan crooked one finger. Barry gave him the garment. “Sorry, Jo, he’s brawn. You’re mainly bluster. And, sweetie, he really does want to marry you.”
“Why are you doing this?” Bewildered, she frowned at him.
Walking over to the mirror, Dan held the waistcoat against his chest. “You want a family—I’m ready to settle down. Who better to marry than the only woman I’ve ever had a halfway decent relationship with? It’s a win-win for both of us.”
She gave a strangled laugh. “Marriage isn’t a business deal. There’s a little matter of love.”
“We love each other.”
“Platonically!”
“That means it will last.”
“For God’s sake, Dan, get real. We’ve had fifteen years of being grown-ups when we could have got together and we never have. Doesn’t that tell you something?”
“Yeah, that timing is everything.” He smiled at her. “Hit on me again now.”
A rare blush colored her cheeks. “We don’t talk about that.”
“We haven’t talked about it.” Dan shrugged on the waistcoat. “That doesn’t mean either of us forgot. Baz, you look like a man in need of a coffee. Give us five minutes, will you?”
He waited until their buddy left the shop then said, “Funny, isn’t it? At the time I was mad that my best friend was coming on to me. But I never could get that image out of my head.” His voice grew husky. “The way your breasts looked under that chiffony thing—”
“Don’t!” She turned away and all he could see was her profile as she began spacing a row of jackets. “Don’t build a future on one drunken pass I barely remember.”
He did up the buttons on the waistcoat. “You suggested the marriage contract when you were drunk. You hit on me when you were drunk. Maybe your subconscious was trying to tell you something.”
She scoffed. “Yes, stop drinking cocktails. I don’t get this sudden desire for matrimony. Didn’t you say you’d never get married?”
“No, I said there was plenty of time.” In the mirror some idiot was standing in jeans, a flannel shirt and a shiny silver-gray waistcoat.
There was a pregnant silence. “And you learned otherwise,” she said in a low voice.
“Yeah, I learned otherwise.” Dan unbuttoned and took off the vest, his fingers leaving faint traces of cold sweat on the satin.
As a soldier he’d accepted his mortality. But his mates’ deaths had rammed the lesson home on an emotional level that was hard to bear. “I can’t bring Steve and Lee back but I can honor their memory by making sure I live big for all of us.” Live like it matters. “Quit flitting from woman to woman and make my life count…settle down.” He tossed the waistcoat aside, tried on another one in black. “Jeez, a mustache and I’d look like Wyatt Earp in this thing.”
Shrugging it off, he reached for a coathanger and replaced it on the rack. “When I packed up my stuff and found that beer mat I got to thinking, it’s not a stupid idea, marrying your best friend. You already know each other’s faults. And all the boring bits are taken care of.” He grinned. “Respect, commitment, loyalty. Which leaves the fun stuff to work on, like hot sex.”
He looked over at her, his smile fading. “Given a do-over, Jo, I wouldn’t turn you down again.”
“But you don’t get a do-over.” Her face was pale, her gaze steady. “You said I’d be relieved you rejected me when I sobered up, and you were right.” She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry about the tragedy overseas, but I want to leave our friendship as it is. And as I’ve already said, I don’t want a family anymore.”
He watched the pulse beating fast in her throat. “I don’t believe you.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m not marrying you.”
Dan picked up the silver waistcoat and rehung it. “You need some time to get used to the idea,” he said. “Here’s the deal. I’ll organize the wedding, all you have to do is decide whether to show up.”
“Of course I’m not going to show up!”
“See, that’s one of your faults—snap judgments,” he said kindly. “Try and keep an open mind. My failing, as you know, is stubbornness. Which sets us up for one hell of an interesting few weeks, doesn’t it?”
As she stared at him, speechless, Barry stuck his head around the door. He took silence as safety and came in, holding a take-out coffee.
“All sorted?”
“Nearly,” said Dan. “So, honey, you weren’t serious about our bridesmaids wearing pink, were you?”
“Pink!” Barry threw up his hands. “Jo, with your red hair?”
His bride finally found her voice. “I am not marrying you!” Cheeks flushed, she advanced on him. “Quit fooling around and tell Baz.”
“Uh-huh.” Dan put on a top hat, tilting it as he checked his reflection. “I’m practicing being a husband…soothing noises, not really listening.”
Jo knocked his top hat off, and with a squawk, Barry scrambled to rescue it.
“You seriously want to play chicken?” she asked incredulously. “With me?”
“I was thinking tonight we could start working on the fun stuff.”
She turned on her heel and wrenched open the door. Dingalingaling.
He went to the doorway, waiting until she was fifty yards down the road. “If you really weren’t interested you wouldn’t have jumped me in Auckland!” he called.
Glancing at interested passersby, she swung on her heel. “I was drunk!” she hissed.
“Like I said then, the only time I’ve seen you drunk like that is when you’re in trouble.”
She looked away. “That’s ridiculous.”
“We became friends when we were five years old because you’d decided I’d be useful for carrying things. I’m still good at sharing the load, Jo.”
She held his gaze. “Help me. My best friend’s crazy.”
Dan leaned against the doorjamb. “How did your business meeting go?”
Jo blinked. “Couldn’t be better.”
“I hear Nan’s been diagnosed with dementia.”
Jo lost her composure. “I wish people would mind their damn business.”
“I’ll tell Mum that.”
Her expression became hopeful. “She can’t approve of this.”
“See how much you’ve already got in common?”
“Ahhh!” She walked away, came back. “Dan, you’re my escape buddy, don’t do this to us.”
“Did you ever see that Costner movie, Field of Dreams? About the guy who built a baseball field in a cornfield? It didn’t make sense even to him. He only knew he had to do it.”
“That’s the dumbest reason I ever heard.”
Barry joined him at the door and they watched Jo’s retreating figure. “What was that about?”
“Bridal nerves.”
“It didn’t actually sound like she wanted to marry you, Dan,” he ventured.
“No,” he admitted. “But I’ve got twenty-two days to change her mind.”
“So you have a Plan B, then?”
Dan snorted. “Mate, I expect to hit the end of the alphabet before the wedding day.”
* * *
Jo swept along Main Street resisting the urge to barrel through pedestrians coming the other way.
Typical of Dan to think he could stroll in and change the rules on a whim.
Oncoming pedestrians started giving her a wider berth but, her eyes fixed on the pavement and her fists clenched, Jo barely noticed. All she’d suggested was one roll in the hay and he couldn’t even do her that favor. Now he was adding insult to injury by telling her she was the One…he’d settle for. And expecting her to settle, too. Her high heels wobbled, forcing her to slow down.
Admittedly she’d let him think her desperate seduction had been driven by her fear of ending up alone and childless, but, dammit, her best friend should know her better than that. She was not—and never would be—pathetic and needy! Which was precisely why she hadn’t told him the truth. Actually this would be funny if it wasn’t so bloody infuriating.
A horn tooted. The jeweler waved from his Volvo, stopped at the lights. “Congratulations, Jo,” he called through the open window. “Dan’s a great guy.”
“No, he’s not and we’re—” the light changed and the car pulled away. She jogged two or three steps in chase before the heels stopped her “—not getting married!” The girly tap, tap, tap of her shoes exacerbated her anger. To hell with this. Jo stepped out of them, feeling the chill pavement through her stockings. Someone bumped into her from behind.
Mrs. Beasley, a crony of Nan’s, adjusted her hat. “My dear, I’ve been calling out to you for ages. I hear from the butcher that—”
“We are not getting married!”
“It’s your birthday,” Mrs. B finished in confusion. “Are you…having a happy day?”
“Thanks, Mrs. B. Yes.” Jo smiled through clenched teeth. The old lady’s gaze shifted to the shoes Jo held in her hand.
Jo said nothing and Mrs. B lost her nerve. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”
“I’m…” Jo trailed off. In her rage she’d walked halfway down the street instead of going upstairs to the Chronicle. “Well, nice to see you. Goodbye.” Jo started striding in the direction she’d come.
“Who aren’t you marrying?” Mrs. B called hopefully. “I can tell people.”
Great. The biggest gossip in Beacon Bay on the case.
Somehow she had to fix this. Her steps slowed, Jo realized, because she was almost at the menswear store again. Dammit, I am not changing how I treat my best friend.
Dropping her heels onto the pavement, she stepped into them and straightened her suit jacket with a short, sharp jerk. Then with every muscle twitching to run, Jo strolled past the plate glass storefront. I will not look, I will not so much as glance in that window. I am unconcerned.
Her gaze darted left and two images were burned in her brain. Her reflected face, eyes furtive, hunted. And her would-be groom, naked to the waist, lean muscle rippling as he shrugged on a starched white shirt.
She was past. Jo tugged open the Chronicle’s door and took the stairs two at a time. Halfway up she stopped and leaned her forehead against the wall. “Why are you doing this to us now?” she whispered. And going public was tantamount to emotional blackmail. Jo continued up the stairs.
The newsroom was empty. Tomorrow’s paper was done—Jo only had to sign off on it before delivering it to the printers—but still, 4:00 p.m. was early to close an issue. In her office, she dumped her bag on her desk then sank into her chair and leaned forward over the desk, head on her arms. Loser’s posture. She sat up straight again, staring sightessly at the screen.
She should be strategizing. Instead all she could think about was Dan’s extraordinary behavior. Maybe she was overreacting—maybe he was simply pushing the joke to its absolute limit and everyone was in on it? Any minute now he’d appear with a grin and a gotcha. Yes, that was it. Of course it was. She relaxed in her chair. There was no other rational explanation.
The phone rang. That was probably him now. “You got me—”
“It’s Delwyn. I think I left my invoice book in the staff room. Can you check for me?”
“Sure.” Jo walked to the staff room and opened the door. Glimpsing red balloons imprinted with Happy Birthday, she closed it again.
The door burst open and her beaming staff threw their arms high. “Surprise!”
* * *
“Where’s my invite? I had the housekeeper check the mailbox twice.”
Jo’s grip tightened on the phone, her delight at the birthday call dissipating.
“You’re on a yacht in Vava’u—how the hell do you know about this?” Maybe her second-best friend wasn’t on a family holiday in Tonga for six weeks. Maybe—
“Luke was reading the Herald online and saw it in the notices.”
“Hang on a minute.” Jo pulled up New Zealand’s largest daily newspaper on the internet. “‘Daniel Jansen is delighted to announce his engagement to Jocelyn Swann.’ I’ll kill him.” She was starting to mean it.
“So you’re not getting married?”
As she brought the former mayor of Beacon Bay up to speed, Jo’s cell rang. Caller ID showed it was Nan. “Liz, I’ve gotta go, love to Luke… Hi, Nan, how lovely to talk to you.”
. “Darling, did I forget that you’re getting married?”
Jo rubbed her throbbing temples. “No, love, ignore the invitation. It’s one of Dan’s jokes.”
“Such a nice boy, Daniel.”
“That’s one word for him.”
“My wedding dress might fit you with a little adjustment I think.” A former dressmaker, Nan had always been stylish, matching gloves, bag and shoes. Jo recalled this morning’s mismatch of gardening hat and dressing gown with a pang of regret.
“Except it’s a joke, Nan,” she reminded her patiently.
“Such a nice boy, Daniel.”
It was hopeless to persist when Rosemary was in one of her loops. And it didn’t matter because in ten minutes she’d have forgotten. But other people wouldn’t. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Tell Polly I’ll explain later.” Jo hung up and hauled the production manager out of the staff room where he was enjoying his third beer and made him design a last-minute ad for tomorrow’s edition. Bold font. Big type. Dan would know there was no room for confusion on this, no room for hope. Or doubt.
“Jo Swann and Dan Jansen are not getting married. It was a joke, people!” A smiley emoticon should take the sting out of it.
Because it was so funny.
By the time Jo had deflected Kevin with an “I promise we’ll discuss the CommLink meeting tomorrow,” and made it home from her impromptu birthday celebration, she had a throbbing headache.
Conscious of Polly’s threat to check for lights on too early she left the curtains open and navigated the stairs by moonlight. A lanky shadow on the landing made her gasp until she recognized the lampstand from the living room. Nan had been moving things again. Pushing it to one side—she was too tired to tidy up now—Jo went into her bedroom, stripped off her clothes, put on her dressing gown, then ran a bath.
While it filled she sat on the rim and listening to the house creaking and groaning as the outside temperature dropped. Steam rose, invisible in the dark. It touched Jo’s face with warm, sympathetic tendrils.
The doorbell rang, startling her. Wiping her eyes, she groped for the tap and turned it off. The bell rang again, a peal that echoed through the dark, silent house. Jo didn’t move. Silence except for the steady drip of the tap. Finally, she heard footsteps retreating down the gravel path. Clutching her robe, she crept to her bedroom window, which provided a view of the front garden.
Holding a bunch of white lilies, Dan stood under a bright moon. She froze but he’d caught her movement and lifted his face. Across the garden they stared at each other.
He’d changed into a white shirt and his broad shoulders were accentuated under the moon, which also bladed his cheekbones and shadowed his deep-set eyes. But Jo read his lips.
“Let me in.”
Her heart started pumping so hard she struggled to breathe. She shook her head.
Dan assessed a route. She could read his thoughts. Swing up onto the pergola; walk along it to her window. Jo caught the sill for support as his gaze returned to hers, unblinking. Intent.
“No!” Through her panic, she found the fierceness she needed. The anger that her best friend was putting them through this when she was finally returning some control to her life.
Jerking the drapes together, she fumbled for the catch on the window and locked it. Counted one minute down, then two. Sucking in a fortifying breath she peeked again, half expecting to see Dan crouched on her windowsill. But there were only lilies propped against the gate. Bridal white in the moonlight.
Closing the drapes, Jo hugged herself as she returned to the bathroom and switched on the light. In the mirror her eyes were huge…shocked. He was really serious about this? Maybe she should tell him the truth behind that pass…
“Do you want his pity?”
No. God, no. Unthinkable. She hadn’t protected her secret so carefully to reveal it now. She’d only panicked because she’d been caught unprepared.
Untying her robe, Jo shrugged it off her shoulders. Her gaze lowered over her naked body, then she turned and stepped into the hot, steamy water, leaned against the rim and closed her eyes.
In company with the real Jo, his best friend, he’d soon come to his senses. He had to.