Chapter 28 Jemma
Jemma
Seductive warmth embraced Jemma as she stepped into the hallway.
The house smelled smoky and musky and so manly the fragrance should have been bottled and sold.
The hall was lined with unframed canvases, some hung, others propped against the walls.
There were a couple of portraits, but most were wild, almost psychedelic images: cartoonish birds holding soft drink cans, a smiling snake emerging from a ram’s skull in the desert.
Others were caricatures, some instantly recognisable: Lynn from the shop down the road; the guy who ran the Turkish restaurant.
And, annoyingly, a portrait of Natasha, her dark hair contrasting with the blonde child beside her.
‘These are yours?’
‘Mostly. A handful are Juz’s.’
‘Music and art. Quite the creative.’
‘Some of us have to be the dreamers.’
She grinned. ‘If you say so. I guess the artistic flair explains your nail polish.’
‘You still banging on about that? Nope. My nails were painted because I felt like painting my nails. You have a problem with that?’
‘Not with the nails. With the gratification of impulses, maybe.’
Hamish’s blue eyes glinted a challenge in the dimness of the hall. His hands went to her waist, grounding her giddiness.
‘Then again, maybe impulsivity has its place,’ she admitted.
His rich chuckle rolled from the walls. ‘You don’t reckon that’s a bit of an oxymoron?’
‘When I satisfy an impulse, I’ll let you know.’
One arm around her waist, Hamish guided her to the kitchen. Just the right amount of pressure, distinctly masculine and commanding. The sexual tension was practically electric, infuriating and tantalising.
‘Okay, before we get down to what you wanted to discuss, I have a question,’ she said.
‘Why doesn’t that surprise me?’ Hamish gestured for her to take a seat.
‘Why won’t you pick up on any of my cues?’
He paused with his hand on the kettle, but turned to her. ‘You mean why won’t I jump into bed with you?’
She nodded, slightly surprised; here was a guy who matched her in telling it like it was. ‘Actually, I’d like it on record that I did get you into bed.’
‘Noted, counsellor,’ he teased.
‘Again, not a term we use. Honestly, that crap American series should be banned. Anyway … ?’
‘Cross-examining me?’
‘Yep. Why won’t you put out?’
Abandoning the kettle, Hamish took the seat opposite her.
‘Straight up?’ His eyes held hers. ‘Because I don’t plan to be your accessory, Jemma.
Sure, we could have sex and we’d both enjoy it.
Bit more than enjoy it,’ he corrected with disarming confidence.
‘But there’s a whole lot more to you than fairly terrifying intellect and killer sex appeal.
And I want in on all of that. So, no, I’m not going to have sex with you. ’
‘Wow. Never?’ She leaned across the table.
‘Never. At least, not unless you’re also invested.’
The large kitchen was surprisingly short of oxygen and she tried to take a surreptitious deep breath. ‘You know I’m crazy busy—’
‘That’s called life. But do you have space for anything more?’
‘I’d definitely like to carve out some time for you.’
He chuckled and reached across the table. Stroked one fingertip gently over her knuckles. A totally non-erogenous zone, yet a quiver rippled through her. ‘Nice way to play it careful,’ he said. ‘Just know that I’ll be holding out until you find that time, though.’
It was fortunate she was sitting down, because his words, his nearness, left Jemma slightly unstable. ‘Which obviously we’d have if I agreed with Gerard that a rural office would be a goer.’
Hamish sat back. ‘I can hear the reticence in your voice. That’s not what you want, is it?’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘I think …’ She sighed, frustrated with her own whirling thoughts. ‘I’ve done a minimal amount of research and I can see why Gerard is weighing up his options. But there’s that whole second-best issue. I cannot lose to Rohan. Not after the years I’ve spent setting myself up.’
‘Setting yourself up to basically be in charge of the firm?’ Hamish said quietly.
‘Mmm. That.’
‘So, kind of like if you had your own practice … ?’
She pinched the bridge of her nose. How was it that Hamish could see so clearly what had been totally invisible to her? ‘Maybe that’s something I should have considered, but now it’s too late.’
Hamish frowned. ‘Because Gerard wants in?’
‘Yeah. Thing is, it was only the embryo of an idea in my brain, a passing thought. Now Gerard’s interest makes it seem so much more viable. But I’ve missed the boat.’
‘He’s not put anything into action, though? So you could steal a march on him?’
Jemma shook her head firmly. ‘It wouldn’t be right. Not after everything he’s done for me, for my career.’
There was a certain relief in knowing that she wouldn’t be risking failure and embarrassment; that would all be on Gerard. But so would the success and accolades.
‘Anyway,’ she continued, ‘long-distance relationships are all the go, right? So regardless of what happens with work, I’m sure we can sort it out.
’ She was proud of herself for not stumbling over the word ‘relationship’, but nothing short of amazed at how calmly she was accepting the whole concept.
There was a sense of logic to it that appealed.
‘So, that’s me sorted. What was it you wanted to discuss? ’
‘It’s Ethan.’ Hamish paused a beat, as though waiting for her reaction.
She carefully schooled her features. She’d known Ethan would be trouble from the first time she’d seen him.
‘And Tara,’ Hamish continued.
‘Not really two names I want to hear in the one sentence, particularly given your concerns about Tara. Or are they unconnected?’ she added hopefully.
‘Connected,’ Hamish retorted. ‘It may be no big deal, but they think they might have been caught on video breaking into a piggery. Well, not breaking in, but … I don’t know … maybe trespassing?’
Her breath came more easily. ‘Looks like you’d better get that kettle on.’
As he brewed the mugs of tea, Hamish filled her in on what proved to be a very short story.
‘Do any of them have legal rep?’ she asked, but broke off as the back door opened.
‘Speak of the devil,’ Hamish said. ‘That’ll be Ethan.’
As Ethan entered with two young women in tow, Hamish did a quick round of introductions. ‘Jemma, Ethan, Tara, Charlee.’
‘We’ve run into one another before,’ Jemma said to Tara. ‘That shirt is absolutely banging.’
From the corner of her eye, she caught Hamish’s surprised expression, but she was on a mission; Tara was hanging out with the local druggie and if Hamish was too blind to see it, Jemma wasn’t.
She’d follow through with their original plan, get close with Tara, then expose Ethan.
Which was unfortunate, but Hamish didn’t need to be hanging out with him; she couldn’t cut contact with the substance abuser in her life, but he certainly could.
Nothing good would come of trying to support Ethan.
‘Thanks.’ Tara glanced down at the fluffy sweater that moulded to her curves. ‘This was from Hamish.’
‘It was?’ Hamish sounded like he almost choked.
‘Yeah, you got some of the CWA ducks started on spinning weird-as stuff to make jumpers. Haven’t you seen any of it?’
‘My idea was dog hair,’ Hamish protested.
Ethan chuckled. ‘Not sure that’s the kind of defence you want to be making, mate.’
‘Yeah, I don’t even want to know. But speaking of defences,’ Jemma put in smoothly, ‘Hamish was filling me in on your drama from the other night.’
‘Jem said she might be able to help you out if it goes south.’ The pride in Hamish’s voice was flattering.
‘Thanks, but if that happens, I won’t be contesting it,’ Ethan said. ‘Happy to pay for you to defend the girls, though.’
She frowned; his response wasn’t at all the bluster and denial she’d expected. ‘I’d be doing it pro bono,’ she said, making a snap decision. ‘And you’d be as entitled to a defence as anyone.’
Ethan gave a tight smile. ‘You don’t know me. But thanks for the offer.’
She was a little thrown by his attitude, but nodded acceptance. ‘Has there been any further statement from the piggery about the trespassing?’ She used the word quite deliberately. People needed to understand that they weren’t above the law.
‘Not yet—’ Ethan started, but Charlee interrupted, leaning across him with her phone outstretched.
‘Have a look at what we filmed.’
‘No—’ Jemma recoiled; her defence of their trespass would be more plausible if she didn’t view the evidence and there was more than one reason she’d refused to take on the animal rights case at GB she refused to work animal cruelty cases as it was generally too late to prevent any suffering, but, instead of ever admitting that, it fitted her persona better to pretend to be hard-arsed, uncaring.
If she couldn’t fix it, she didn’t want to know about it.
Suddenly she leaned forward. ‘Wait, what is that?’
The footage was of the outside of some kind of shed, lit only by moonlight, but what caught her eye was in the corner of the picture: a ute with a huge pair of bull’s horns fixed across the back window above the flat tray.
Or more specifically, a diminutive bundle of fur on that tray.