Falling for Mr. Mysterious Read online

  And there was so much more to lose than mere self-sufficiency…

  He would never again see the face of a beautiful woman like Emily. He would never savour that moment of opening a brand-new book and turning to the first page, seeing the shape of the words on the crisp white paper, encountering the magic of the first tempting sentence.

  He would never watch a Broncos footy game, or see a sunset or the fresh perfection of an apple, would never see rain scudding across a city street.

  Right now, he couldn’t even be grateful for his imagination, which would continue to see these things even if his eyes could not. It was too soon to be thinking like flaming Pollyanna.

  Yes, he knew he had to man up about this. He had to think positively and deal with whatever came his way, but for one afternoon he wanted to shut out the world. And, yeah, maybe feel more than a little sorry for himself.

  * * *

  The tablets had begun to ease the wretched ache that gripped his skull when he heard a gentle tap on his door.

  At his grunted response, the door opened and Emily stuck her head through the gap, her sunset hair glowing like a candle flame in the twilight darkness of his room.

  ‘Sorry. I thought you were working,’ she said.

  ‘Taking a break.’

  Her expression suggested that she didn’t believe him, and no doubt her deductions were aided by the fact that he was lying in the dark and hadn’t opened his laptop.

  ‘I’ve made a light supper,’ she said. ‘Scrambled eggs and toast, and a pot of tea.’

  ‘Wonderful, thanks.’

  ‘I’ll put the tray on the desk here, shall I?’ Emily spoke in the soothing tone of a nanny talking to a sick child. Having set the tray down, she stood in the middle of the room, twisting her hands nervously, as if she was waiting for him to explain what had happened.

  He contemplated telling her the truth. He’d kept one truth from her already and she’d made it very clear that she hadn’t appreciated the deception. But illness was different, surely? Why burden her with his personal worries when she had enough of her own?

  ‘Is there anything else you’d like?’ she asked at last.

  ‘No, this is perfect. Thank you.’

  With visible reluctance, she left him, closing the door behind her with a soft click. A few minutes later, he heard the TV come on in the living room—with a loud burst at first and then turned low. He imagined Emily eating her supper on her lap, watching the television alone, and he felt more depressed than ever.

  * * *

  When morning arrived, slanting sunlight through the blinds, Jude blinked awake and was relieved to discover that he was feeling fine. In fact, he felt so good it was hard to believe that he needed an operation in a week’s time.

  Seven days’ grace.

  He drew a deep breath. He wouldn’t think beyond this week. Not yet. For now, he wanted to consider the best way to spend the precious time he had left.

  A conscientious writer would tackle the ending of the book he was working on—get it finished and out of the way, in case there were any dreaded complications.

  Jude shot a glance to his laptop, still lying closed on his desk. Normally, he looked forward to opening it each morning and starting work. Each new day gave him the chance to play creator and there were always surprises and fresh challenges, and occasional moments of deep satisfaction. As far as he was concerned, he had the best job in the world.

  But now…

  Everything was different this morning.

  This next week could be his last week as a sighted man. He smashed that thought almost as soon as it arrived. He couldn’t bear to think about trying to manage his writing career if he couldn’t see.

  Even so, he felt a burning compulsion to make the most of this week. He wanted to take time out to see all the things he loved one more—hopefully not for the last—time. Art galleries and museums, the botanical gardens, a ferry ride on the river. A day on Stradbroke Island. Lots of movies.

  Books.

  Girls…

  Yeah…if only he could spend entire days sitting on a park bench watching beautiful women saunter by.

  * * *

  After showering and dressing, he took last night’s supper tray to the kitchen and stashed the rinsed crockery in the dishwasher. Then he filled a mug with coffee from a freshly made pot that Emily had left on the bench and went in search of her. He needed to let her know that at least he was fine again. He found her on the balcony, drinking her coffee in a patch of sunlight.

  Even when she was wearing a simple white blouse and jeans she looked lovely enough to cause a catch in his throat. Her face, when she saw him, was an instant picture of concern.

  ‘I’m OK,’ he told her before she could ask.

  Her eyes narrowed in an assessing gaze that clearly said she thought he was lying. But Jude was determined to keep his health problems to himself. It would be bad enough when he had to ring his sister in Sydney to tell her his news.

  ‘Just the same, I am taking a few days off,’ he admitted, pulling out one of the balcony chairs and sitting with his legs stretched in front of him while he feasted his gaze on the Brisbane River as it sparkled in the morning sunlight. ‘I need a few days away from the computer to give my eyes a rest. I thought I might do a bit of sightseeing to refill the well.’

  ‘What well?’ Emily frowned in obvious puzzlement.

  ‘The well of inspiration.’ He shot her a smile. ‘Finding fresh sights and experiences to keep the muse happy.’

  ‘Oh, yes, I can see how that would help.’ Emily looked as if she’d like to quiz him further, but she said instead, ‘I’m sure food helps, too. What would you like for breakfast?’

  ‘Emily, you don’t have to keep feeding me.’

  ‘I’ve told you I’m happy to.’

  ‘I know you are.’ He rose again, struck by a new restlessness. ‘But if we’re going to eat breakfast together, we might as well find a café down the street. Broaden our horizons.’

  ‘OK. That sounds good.’

  On a wave of generosity, Jude added, ‘Afterwards, I’m going on a sightseeing jaunt. You’re welcome to join me.’

  This time Emily frowned. ‘Jude, this isn’t a date, is it?’

  ‘Not at all,’ he hurried to reassure her. ‘I only asked because I know you’re at a loose end.’

  She didn’t respond straight away. She seemed to be weighing up everything in her mind, and Jude was already wishing he’d done the same before jumping in with his rash invitation.

  He’d been avoiding his friends because he didn’t want them to discover his health problems and start offering sympathy. He should have been equally cautious with Emily. Then again, she’d witnessed two rounds of his headaches now without getting too nosy, and she was good company. And he had told Alex that he’d keep an eye on her.

  On the plus side, if Emily accompanied him, he would be able to look at her as often and as long as he wanted to. Surely, given his future, getting an eyeful of Emily was the best justification of all.

  ‘All right,’ she announced, after frowning out at the view for several long seconds. ‘I’ll come but on one condition.’

  ‘Ah, yes…your conditions.’ Jude nodded. ‘We still haven’t discussed the terms of your truce, have we?’

  ‘No, we haven’t.’ She eyed him sternly. ‘Obviously, there’ll be no more kissing, Jude.’

  ‘Obviously,’ he repeated dryly, even though the very thought of kissing her sent a jolt of desire firing low and hot. ‘Is that all?’

  ‘I’ll keep you informed if I think of anything else.’

  ‘So you’re making up the rules as you go?’

  ‘Absolutely.’ Her serious expression morphed into an arch s
mile. ‘A girl can’t be too careful.’

  Nor can a guy, Jude reminded himself.

  * * *

  There was method in her madness, Emily decided. She was worried that Jude was hiding something, that he hadn’t told the truth about his trip to the hospital yesterday.

  She hoped she was mistaken and that he was fine. It was almost impossible to imagine that such a vital man with the physique of an athlete could be unwell. But after two bouts of terrible headaches, there was clearly something wrong. If for no other reason, she should accompany him for his own good. If he had another bad spell while he was out, he might need her help.

  By the end of the morning, she was pleased for other reasons that she’d come along with Jude. It was genuinely fun to visit the museum and the art galleries with such an interesting companion. Jude seemed to know so much, but he shared his knowledge in a way that was entertaining, without arrogance or obvious showing off.

  One thing that surprised her was the way he sometimes stopped and just stared at things. It was predictable enough behaviour in art galleries or at the museum, but at other times his attention would be captured by the most unexpected things like branches of a winter-bare tree silhouetted against the noon sky. Sunlight slanting on an ancient carved church door. The sight of a striped deckchair on a rooftop.

  Jude seemed to be soaking these scenes in.

  He was stopping to stare again now as they walked through a stretch of parkland after a picnic lunch. A white heron was wading in the shallows of a pretty reed-fringed pond and Jude came to a halt to watch it, which might have been fine if his expression hadn’t been so disturbingly sad.

  Emily wanted to ask him if he was all right, but she knew that would probably annoy him. To distract herself from worrying, she decided that he was imagining a scene for his current story.

  ‘Are you thinking that this bird might be booby-trapped and that it’s about to blow up?’ she asked.

  Jude blinked and looked at her strangely, as if he feared she’d lost her marbles.

  ‘You were staring so hard, Jude. I thought the heron must be inspiring your imagination, and you were thinking up a scene for your book.’

  He laughed. Oh, wow. He looked so amazingly handsome when he laughed.

  ‘That hadn’t occurred to me,’ he said and his smiling gaze lingered on her. ‘It’s not a bad idea. But, as a bird-lover, I’ve a strict code of ethics. No birds are harmed during the writing of my books.’

  Emily grinned. ‘Then perhaps there’s a beautiful woman trapped inside the body of a heron.’

  This time she was rewarded by an extra gleam of appreciation in his eyes, a bright sparkle in the grey depths.

  ‘You’re the one with the fabulous imagination, Emily. Perhaps you should be making up stories, too.’

  ‘Not a chance.’ There were limits to her imagination.

  ‘Perhaps the heron could be an alien sent to Earth to observe humans,’ Jude suggested.

  ‘Yes, or it might have a surveillance device attached.’

  He stopped again. The tall white bird was standing on a flat shelf of rock in the middle of the pond. Tall and dignified, its feathers gleamed pure white.

  ‘Or it might just be a beautiful bird fishing in the winter sunshine,’ Jude said quietly. ‘And we’re mere humans admiring the perfect simplicity of nature.’

  Something about the way he said this brought a lump to Emily’s throat. She felt as if he’d shared an incredibly meaningful moment with her, and she had an absurd impulse to give him a hug, or to slip her arm through his and walk companionably close to his side.

  Thank heavens she’d resisted the impulse. Not only would she have shocked Jude, she would have broken her new resolution to toughen up. For a moment there, she’d been carried away by her feelings. She’d felt a deep emotional connection with Jude. But feelings and emotions were highly dangerous. She’d learned the hard way that she couldn’t trust them.

  All her decisions from now on had to be made with her head, not her heart.

  * * *

  ‘So what happens first?’ Jude asked much later, coming to stand beside Emily at the kitchen bench.

  She’d offered to teach him how to cook a stir-fry, as a simple alternative to tinned soup.

  This close, however, Emily could smell his aftershave. Fortunately, she resisted the temptation to lean in to the woodsy, masculine scent.

  ‘First we cut the vegetables into thin, even strips.’ She wished she felt calmer as she handed him a carrot. Jude, with a knife in one hand and a carrot in the other, looked more attractive than any man should in such a domesticated setting.

  She turned her attention to her own chopping board and asked crisply, ‘Why don’t you tell me about the women in your life?’ She needed a reality check. Now.

  ‘Why would you want to know about them?’

  ‘I’ve told you about my disastrous love life, so it’s only fair you spill about yours. Is there anyone special?’

  Jude didn’t answer at first, and Emily began to slice mushrooms with the care of an artist.

  Standing beside her, Jude said, ‘If I was seeing someone else I wouldn’t have kissed you the other night.’

  Her knife slipped, almost cutting her thumb. Memories of his kiss flooded her—the taste of his lips, the strength of his arms, the woozy, warm sensation that had flowered inside her.

  ‘It’s reassuring to hear that not every man is as sleazy as my two-timing ex,’ she said tightly. ‘By the way, you need the oil to be really hot before you add the meat.’

  She added strips of grain-fed beef to the hot oil in the wok and began to stir them briskly. ‘And on that other matter, I’m sure you’ve had a string of girlfriends, Jude.’

  He stopped slicing a capsicum and stood watching her, eyes flashing unreadable sparks. ‘Sure, we’ve established I like girls.’

  Emily drew a sharp breath. ‘Let me guess. But you’re not the marrying kind.’

  ‘That pretty much sums it up.’

  ‘Do you have any special reason for dodging the altar?’ Heavens, she couldn’t believe she was being so nosy.

  Jude’s eyebrows lifted as he considered this. ‘Perhaps I’m attracted to the wrong kind of girl.’

  What a cop-out.

  Her lips parted, ready to let fly with a smart retort, but her eyes met Jude’s again. Locked in his grey gaze, she felt an unsettling tremor skip down her spine and her desire to be a smart mouth disappeared. Her heart beat strangely fast.

  Dismayed by her reaction, she concentrated on adding onion and garlic to the wok. But as she recovered her wits, she felt compelled to ask, ‘So what kind of girl is the wrong type for you?’

  ‘You certainly like asking the hard questions.’

  ‘I’m congenitally curious.’

  Jude pursed his lips. His grey eyes shimmered. ‘OK. My problem is I tend to go for professional women with an independent streak.’

  Emily’s jaw dropped. ‘And that’s a problem?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘What’s wrong with women who are professional and independent?’ She prided herself on having both these qualities. Not that her interests were relevant.

  Jude was smiling now, as if he knew Emily was digging a very deep hole that she might very soon fall into. He reached for a stick of raw carrot from the pile he’d made. ‘In theory, dating career women is fine. But I have a house at Mount Tamborine, and that’s rather inconvenient for girlfriends with really important and demanding careers.’

  ‘Such as?’

  Good grief. She was asking way too many questions, but now she’d started she couldn’t stop. It was like trying to stop eating a chocolate bar after just one bite.

  Jude’s raised eyebrows signalled hi
s amused disbelief. ‘You want a list of my girlfriends’ careers? Well…let’s see. There was Suze, who was an airline pilot, and Keira was an Army doctor, and Gina was a research scientist—’

  ‘OK. I see what you mean,’ Emily cut in, suddenly unwilling to listen to his entire list of lovers, even though she most certainly wasn’t jealous. ‘I guess I can see your problem. Women with those careers would appeal to a thriller writer, but they wouldn’t suit a lifestyle tucked away in the mountains and far from a city.’

  ‘That’s it in a nutshell.’

  Something in his voice made her look up. He was watching her with a mixture of amusement and thoughtfulness that sent her cheeks flaming.

  Flustered, she tossed the sliced carrot and capsicum into the stir-fry and refrained from asking any more questions. After she’d added a generous dollop of sweet chilli sauce and stirred it through, their dinner was ready.

  A girl with any sense would drop the questions, Emily told herself as they sat down. But she found her mind veering back like a boomerang to the subject of Jude’s girlfriends. After her own problems with finding the right partner, she found Jude’s apparent lack of success intriguing. He had everything going for him—brains plus looks. He was a great kisser, and he was even nice to grandmothers.

  What was his fatal flaw?

  ‘I know it’s none of my business, Jude.’

  ‘But you’re going to ask anyway.’

  ‘Do you mind?’

  He shrugged. ‘I become quite tolerant with food in my stomach. What do you want to know?’

  ‘I was wondering if you’ve ever considered moving to the city to fit in with a girlfriend’s career.’

  It was some time before he spoke. ‘I haven’t given that serious thought,’ he admitted at last. ‘But I might, if I found the right girl.’

  Emily thought how lucky that right girl would be.

  ‘Then again,’ Jude added, ‘I might never find her. And who knows how any of us will feel in the future?’

  Once again, she caught a shadowy flicker in his eyes. What was it that bothered him? She wished she could ask him about it, but she’d already asked far too many questions.