Chapter Twelve
“I’ve got some news,” Jules said as Claire walked her out to her Volkswagen Beetle an hour later. “I’ve started dating again.”
Claire stopped in her tracks. “That is news.” She noticed Jules’s hand was fisted around her car keys. “Are you expecting me to give you a hard time about it?”
“You’re the first of Lee’s circle I’ve told,” Jules admitted. She glanced over her shoulder at the bach. Through the lit window they could see Nate moving through the room. “I’m testing the waters.”
Impulsively, Claire hugged her. “You’re only thirty-two, Jules. Of course you’ll meet and fall in love with another guy.”
“Whoa, slow down there, I said I’m dating, not looking for Mr. Right. I’m not a masochist.”
The wind gusted and both women shivered. Claire said, “Let’s get in the car for a minute.” Once they’d settled in the front seats, she turned to Jules. “Don’t close yourself down to another love.” Her friend looked at her ring, absently twisted it straight. Why had she never had it fitted properly? It was almost as if she was reluctant to claim it. “And you’re not an impostor,” Claire added.
Jules raised startled eyes. “What?”
“You’ve always been uncomfortable wearing that ring. You pull away from family gatherings and commemorative get-togethers as though Lee’s going to ghost up and say, ‘I meant that ring for someone else.’ Even when he was alive you doubted his love, when we could all see it as plain as day. I don’t know why you think you don’t deserve to be happy or loved or treasured, Jules, but don’t use Lee’s death as an excuse to pull away from letting a good man love you. More than any person I know, Lee lived life to the full and he’d want that for you.”
“Claire,” her friend said shakily, “you have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I?” Claire sat back. “Okay, my mistake.”
“And anyway, what about you?”
“What about me?” Jules was deflecting, but Claire got defensive anyway. “Hey, I had a fourteen-year marriage, I have a teenager. I’ve already had a wonderful family life.”
“See, you’re not a masochist either.”
“You lawyers twist everything,” Claire complained, but feebly.
“Uh-huh.” Jules sighed. “I’m lonely, Claire. Until Lee, I was perfectly happy being celibate.”
“You were a workaholic nerd.”
“Semantics.” Jules waved a dismissive hand and her ring flashed by the subdued green light of the dash. “Sex was something I could take or leave.” A faint smile curved her lips. “Lee ruined that for me. Now, as hard as I try, I can’t put my libido to sleep again. I need touch, sexual companionship.”
“Re-market that as meaningless sex and you won’t have any trouble finding takers.” Jules was a good-looking woman with an intelligent “dare you” quality. She and Lee had been perfect for each other. He wasn’t used to hearing no, and she wasn’t used to saying yes.
“I’ve had one date with a guy I met through an online-dating website, but it’s harder than you think to jump into bed with a virtual stranger.”
“You slept with Lee on your blind date,” Claire pointed out.
“I told you that in confidence,” Jules scolded. “Anyway, I’m hitting the dating circuit and I wanted you to know. One, because I’m the type of person who always gets caught, and two, I need your blessing.”
“Go forth and fornicate.”
“I’m serious, Claire. I want you—everyone—to understand this doesn’t diminish what I felt for Lee—”
“Jules, this is me.” Claire covered her friend’s hand. “I’m in the same lifeboat, remember? We’ve finally hit land and now the fearless one—that’s you—goes ahead to check if the natives are friendly before the cowardly one leaves the boat.”
Jules relaxed in the leather seat. “So, you miss sex, too.”
“Marriage to a soldier gets you used to a lifestyle of feast or famine, but yes, it’s been a long time between meals.” She thought of the sexy lingerie in Ellie’s shop, of the pang it had given her. “After fifteen years with one guy, I don’t have a clue how to go about dating. And then there’s Lewis to consider. He’s at an age where the very idea of his mother wanting romance is disgusting. I have a new business to get up and running.” She noticed Jules had raised a brow. “Does it sound like I’m making excuses? I am.”
“What about Nate?”
Claire looked at her uncomprehendingly.
“You two have such a bond.”
The penny dropped, and she was offended. “I’ve never considered Nate as more than a friend.”
“Of course not, you loved Steve…. But I doubt you thought of Nate as a brother, either,” Jules added astutely.
She took a moment to respond. “Being happily married gives you a free pass to appreciate a sexy guy…. It’s not personal.”
“You think Nate’s sexy?” Jules widened her brown eyes. “I would only describe him as good-looking myself.”
Claire got out of the car with as much dignity as she could muster. “Go home, you bad girl,” she said. “You are not making me self-conscious around an old friend.”
A wink was her only response. Claire slammed the door, watched the Volkswagen disappear into the dark with a twinkle of tail-lights. Shaking her head, she returned to the bach. Nate wasn’t anywhere in sight. Faintly, she heard the shower running.
Don’t go there, she told herself before she put a picture to that. Damn Jules and her warped humor. Rolling up the sleeves of her knit top, she plugged the sink and turned on the taps. Heard a muffled “Hey!” through the wall.
“Sorry!”
Shutting off the hot tap, Claire filled up the sink with cold water and started washing the dishes. Now he probably had a scalded ass.
Her brain threw up an image. She smacked her forehead. “Stop it!”
“Stop what?” Nate stepped through the patio doors, bare-chested, with a towel slung around his neck and jeans low on his hips. “You’ve got soap bubbles between your eyebrows.”
Claire grabbed a tea towel and patted her forehead dry. “Don’t walk outside like that, you’ll catch cold,” she scolded, getting all mumsy in her embarrassment.
He shrugged. “I forgot to take a shirt. Maybe that’s something you can spend your first year’s profits on—interior access to the bathroom.”
“Yes, let’s talk plumbing,” she said, relieved, then heard the double entendre and blushed.
“You okay?” Nate paused at the entrance to his room, a foot away from the sink. Amidst the sudsy detergent she could smell sandalwood aftershave. “You’ve gone red.”
Experiencing an urge to close her eyes and follow her nose, Claire turned her burning face to the dishes. “Steam from the sink,” she lied.
“Really?” With a doubtful expression he came closer and dipped his finger in. “It’s cold.” He dried his finger on the towel around his neck. “Maybe I should take another look at your thermostat.”
Claire had to get out of this kitchen, but he blocked her way, solid, half-naked, radiating heat. “Can you just…” He stepped aside to let her pass and she found some extra space in the living room, found her breath.
“The thermostat’s fine,” she said. “I didn’t want to affect the shower, so I used cold.”
“Thanks.” Absently, Nate lifted part of the towel and rubbed his hair dry, affording her tantalizing glimpses of his chest, abs and biceps. Claire’s mouth went dry. Then she saw he was watching her under the toweling, his expression puzzled.
“You look fit,” she said inanely. “You work out much?”
Nate draped the towel over one shoulder. “Zander likes a gym buddy.”
“So you said earlier. I’m going to have to join a gym myself,” she babbled, “if I’m helping clients haul in a ten kilogram snapper.”
He assessed her body dispassionately. “I was only teasing in the boat shed. You’re holding up okay.”
She felt the disinterest like a bucket of cold water. Idiot.
“You and Jules were deep in conversation when I went to the shower,” he added.
“She’s dating again,” Claire replied, still caught in her mixed feelings. Then remembered Jules didn’t want that broadcast. “Keep that to yourself,” she added.
“Okaaay,” he said.
Claire stiffened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. It’s a shock, that’s all. The end of an era.”
“The end of a very bad time and the start of the rest of her life,” she said sharply. “You think she should take the veil or swear a vow of celibacy?”
“No, all I—”
“It’s not like she’ll forget Lee because she gets on with her life and takes a lover. Don’t you dare go making her feel all guilty about getting her needs met.”
“That wasn’t—”
“Hopefully one day she’ll meet someone she can marry…and you’d better be bloody nice to that guy, Nate, when she does. You hear me?”
“I hear you,” he said carefully. “So…are we still talking about Jules?”
She got flustered. “Of course we’re talking about Jules.”
“I thought maybe you were working up to telling me you were seeing someone.”
“Well, I’m not.” Claire folded her arms, realized that was defensive and unfolded them again. “But if I were I’d expect the same support. You guys can’t expect us to turn into sexless beings…” Oh, dear God, there was no retrieving this. “I’m off to bed. Good night.” Without waiting for a response, she swept into her bedroom and jerked the curtain closed, cursing the smallness of the bach, Jules and her own confusion.
She hadn’t cleaned her teeth or washed her face…. Well, she’d wait until he went to bed. In the meantime, Claire sat on hers, dropped her head in her hands and reminded herself that her future was all about control and self-determination. She couldn’t possibly have sexual feelings for Steve’s best friend.
A man subject to mood swings she couldn’t fathom, who didn’t want his buddies or her son to hear he was home. Sure, he’d been sweet to Ellie, but—
Imagine Steve’s mum’s reaction if they—
Exasperated, Claire flung backward onto the bed. Too much champagne had made her a suggestible fool. Well, that was stopping right now.
* * *
Nate frowned at Claire’s departing back and wondered what had just happened here. One “Okaaay” and all hell had broken loose.
He took a tentative step in the direction of her bedroom and stopped. Anything he said now would sound patronizing.
“Of course I can understand Jules wanting to date…. She’s young, she’s attractive, she can’t mourn Lee the rest of her life. He would hate that.”
He felt a deep sadness for his friend’s sake, but it was right and natural that Jules move on, and he honestly wished her all the best in her pursuit of happiness. Then he imagined Claire meeting someone else and experienced such an immediate and visceral rejection he was shocked.
Still frowning, he went into his room and hauled on a sweater. He’d only ever known Claire as his best friend’s wife, and it was hard to accept her as single. Relieved, he raked a hand through his damp hair. Yeah, that was it. In the kitchen, he drained the sink and refilled it with hot water.
Her outburst had surprised her as much as him. Of course she’d be missing sex. “Ouch!” Nate jerked his fingers from the tap, turned it off and added more cold. She was a hot-blooded woman in her prime. He felt the pangs himself, though for Nate, celibacy was a personal choice. Relationships were rife with expectations and he didn’t feel capable of meeting them anymore. His thwarted one-night stand with Mia had been exactly what Claire suspected—a way of holding her at arm’s length.
Forearms deep in soapy dishwater, Nate smiled. So much for that.
He picked up the dish brush and washed the glasses. No question that when Claire was ready to date, there’d be men lined up. His smile faded.
She had that rare quality of being one of the guys while remaining unquestionably feminine. It must be innate, because he’d seen pampered beauties in Hollywood who couldn’t emulate the gracefulness Claire managed in coveralls. Women might miss it, but men saw it. And when she applied makeup and matched a sexy off-the-shoulder sweater with tights that accentuated her shapely legs… Oh, yeah, when she was ready they’d be lining up.
A champagne flute clunked against the sink and broke in half. Carefully, Nate removed the pieces from the suds. Okay, he didn’t like the idea, but his feelings were irrelevant. If Claire saw herself as single again, he’d just have to deal with it.
He had the opportunity to practice the next day.
The morning started well. After breakfast they walked to the boat shed, same as usual. Claire seemed bent on keeping the conversation strictly business, but Nate figured they needed to clear the air. “About last night,” he said as they walked along the estuary. “I have no objection to Jules dating.”
“I’ll be sure to pass that on.”
“C’mon, Claire, give me a break. It’s natural to feel regret for Lee. That doesn’t mean I don’t want Jules to be happy.” Or you.
She sighed. “I appreciate that.”
Nate gave her a sidelong glance. “She and Lee weren’t together very long. That must make it easier for her to move on.”
“It’s been over eighteen months, Nate.” Uh-oh, snippy again.
“And she’s an attractive woman,” he soothed. “I’m sure she’s had lots of offers.” He waited. One beat, two. “I imagine a couple come your way too.”
“Amazing, I know.”
“Not at all.” So, did the sarcasm mean Claire wasn’t ready? His spirits lifted. She’d only talked about dating in principle; it might be months before she met someone. When the time came, he’d be happy for her, he really would. “Beautiful day,” he added cheerfully.
The estuary on full tide was a gleaming mirror under a sky of translucent blue, its surface only broken by the occasional small fishing launch puttering out to sea and the shadows of swooping seagulls.
As Claire unlocked the padlock on the boat shed, a white ute pulled up and a middle-aged man climbed out of the cab with a cheery greeting. “Made better time than I thought,” he said as Claire introduced him as John, the canopy guy. Shaking his hand, Nate noted that John was freshly shaven, with recently combed hair and a powerful aura of Old Spice.
“Nate’s an old friend visiting from the States,” Claire said, and the slight crease between John’s eyebrows relaxed.
The handshake became more enthusiastic. “Good to meet you.”
Releasing Nate’s hand, he turned to Claire. “I know how important this is to you, so I thought I’d come out first thing and get things moving.”
“That’s so kind,” Claire said. “I was under the impression you’d got all the measurements last visit.”
Nate hid a smile.
“Always good to recheck them.” John’s neck reddened slightly and he avoided Nate’s gaze. “Wooden boats aren’t symmetrical, maybe there’s been some movement.”
Nate put him out of his misery. “Sounds sensible to me,” he said. “I’ll leave you to it.”
He took his time selecting tools, chuckling silently as John set about trying to impress an oblivious Claire. Doubtless some parts of his job required skill, but his implication that taking simple measurements demanded surgical precision and crack-shot reflexes cracked Nate up. If this guy was an example of available men, poor Claire would find slim pickings. Taking the cover off the engine bay, Nate climbed into the cavity and started whistling as he disconnected the fuel line.
Claire appeared after John left, carrying a notebook and pen. “I hope you haven’t got too far. I wanted to watch how you did it.”
He was disconnecting the engine’s fuel, cooling and electrical systems for pick-up later that morning. “I’m just about to do the transmission.” He moved over to give her room in the confined space. “You’ve got quite the admirer in John.”
She smiled. “He’s so awkwardly sweet, it’s very endearing.”
The wrench slipped. Nate cursed and then apologized as he picked it up. “He’s not someone you’d consider going out with, though…. Is he?”
“Poor John lost his wife eighteen months ago…. It took a lot of courage to ask me for coffee.” Her shoulder bumped his as she moved closer for a better view. Unlike John’s cologne, her perfume was a mere hint of the sensual Orient, an unsettling base note amongst the paint fumes and engine grease. “I made it clear it’s a support-group kind of thing, not a date.”
Nate turned his head, found her face very close and sat back on his haunches. “Claire, some guys will play on sympathy to get what they want. Sure, John seems harmless, but you’re isolated out here. Be careful.”
She laughed, and in that confined space her breath was minty-sweet. “I’m thirty-four, Nate, not sixteen. Steve was away half our married life and I’ve been widowed for over a year and a half. I don’t need advice on looking out for myself.”
“Of course not,” he agreed, making a mental note to check the bach’s security and do a security check on John.
He bent to his task. They’d been working closely for days, but suddenly she was in his space. Her hair fell across his forearm as he disconnected the electrical system, a tickling touch of silk. “Put your hair up,” he said brusquely. “It’ll get caught in the electrics.”
She gave him a puzzled look. “You’ve disconnected everything.”
“Safe practice.”
“Fine.” She reached across him to the toolbox where a pink scrunchie sat amongst the spanners, screwdrivers and pliers, and the side of her breast pressed briefly against his arm.
Nate gritted his teeth. It was that stupid conversation last night that was making him self-conscious. It forced him to see her not as Steve’s widow, but as a woman. He didn’t like it.
He suffered her proximity another five minutes before he sat back. “You’re kinda blocking the light.”
“I’m in your way, aren’t I?”
“A little.”
“Then I’ll go start on the hull’s second coat.”
“Great idea.”
He could breathe again when she’d gone. Except he still found himself watching her over the course of the morning—the way she lifted her arms to tighten her ponytail, the sweet roundness of her bottom as she bent to dip her brush in the paint can, how the coveralls tightened over her curves as she stretched to apply paint to the upper hull.
She caught him staring and raised a brow. “What?”
“Nothing.”
It was a relief when the marine mechanics arrived to pull the engine and take it away for reconditioning. They were young guys in their twenties with cheeky grins and eyes for a pretty woman. Their appreciative gazes followed Claire, and when they used a portable gantry to lift the engine from its bay into the back of their specialized ute, they flexed their biceps in their muscle shirts, showing off for her.
Their flirting was harmless and in good fun and his irritation at their macho posturing made Nate feel like a grumpy old man. What the hell was wrong with him this morning? On the other hand, Claire wore a wedding ring. They should show some respect for the institution. Some guys might read too much into her open, friendly smile. And that habit she had of twirling a loose strand of hair around her finger could easily be interpreted as a come-on.
Nate stood back as she signed all the paperwork, arms folded and a frown on his face. Hell, for all she knew, these idiots could be gang members. But then, she’d always been too trusting, picking up strays throughout her married life, himself being a case in point.
“So, any chance of some work now,” he said when they’d left.
Claire raised a brow. “Excuse me?”
“I’m trying to do as much as I can before I leave,” he said impatiently.
Narrowed blue eyes assessed his mood. “Oh, don’t you worry about that,” Claire said sweetly. “I can easily organize a replacement.”