‘You look gorgeous,’ he said, hesitating for the briefest moment before kissing her cheek. ‘Hope you’re hungry? I’m starving, because I don’t usually eat this late.’ He gave a self-deprecating laugh. ‘These days, I’m ashamed to say I have dinner in front of the telly watching the six o’clock news.’
Liking his honesty, she said, ‘I eat early too. But I appreciate your later booking tonight so we don’t get spied on.’
He chuckled. ‘I don’t usually care what a bunch of busybodies say about me, but I liked the thought of having you to myself without a crowd of onlookers.’
The appreciation in his eyes as his gaze swept over her made a mockery of her earlier fear that he’d asked her out on a pity date, and when he held out his hand to her it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to take it.
As anticipated, the pub was practically deserted as they entered. She liked how Jem held the door open for her. There was a lot to be said for old-fashioned manners and while she’d revelled in letting loose by dating younger men for the last six months, it was nice to be treated like a lady rather than an oddity. Not that any of the guys she’d gone out with had labelled her as such, but she’d known most of those men had seen her as nothing more than yet another shag and an older one at that. Only one of her dates had admitted he got off on dating older women because there were no complications—just a screw and that’s it. She’d liked that, the lack of ties, and far from the constraints of a marriage based on friendship and little else.
But Jem was a far cry from those young guys and it had nothing to do with chronological age. He had a worldliness about him those younger men lacked, a man proud of his achievements, a man who didn’t have anything to prove.
‘A bottle of merlot okay?’
She nodded her approval; even though he’d asked her, his take-charge attitude was something she’d longed for. Bert had deferred to her opinion in everything, from what they drank on a rare night out to the colour of the bathmats. She thought it had been fun at first, that he trusted her enough to make all the decisions in their marriage, until she realised his leaving everything to her had little to do with faith and everything to do with laziness. It didn’t take long for their relationship to fall into a rut, about ten months after he slipped the wedding band on her finger, and nothing she had said or done could fix it.
When Jem returned to the table with a bottle of wine and two glasses on a tray, he said, ‘I took the liberty of ordering the seafood platter for two.’
While she’d admired his decisiveness with the wine, choosing her dinner might be taking it a tad far. ‘That’s awfully presumptuous.’
‘It is, but I saw the neat stack of menus from Gullie’s Fish’n’Chip joint, a decade’s worth, next to your phone earlier today and figured you liked seafood.’
‘Guilty as charged,’ she said, adding a smile when he appeared concerned he’d made a gaffe. ‘It’s okay. I would’ve ordered the fish of the day or the garlic prawns with fettuccine anyway.’
‘Phew.’ He swiped at his brow and sat opposite, their knees brushing as he did so and sending a jolt up her leg. ‘Besides, I thought we should celebrate.’
Her surprise must’ve shown, because he added, ‘In listing your house, you’re taking the first step into a future filled with possibilities.’
‘I’ll drink to that,’ she said, sending a pointed look at the uncorked wine bottle on the table between them, and he laughed as he poured them each a generous serve before handing her a glass and raising his.
‘Here’s to a swift sale, top dollar and endless adventures.’
‘Sounds good to me. Cheers.’ As she tapped her glass gently against his, she couldn’t help wondering what kind of adventures she could have in Acacia Haven. It wasn’t like she had plans to leave town, not when she’d taken on the responsibility of managing Rayne’s shop with a view to ultimately buying if the opportunity ever arose. But she liked the prospect of a new place to live. It was a start. ‘To endless adventures.’
They made small talk, about the local real estate market mostly, and continued with lighthearted conversation all through dinner. But as they demolished the delicious Moreton Bay bugs, fresh local oysters, grilled barramundi, butterflied garlic prawns and crispy battered calamari, Heidi noticed a slight shift. Jem went from talking about local housing prices to catching her gaze and holding it, from serving her to letting their fingers brush as they reached for the same prawn, his touch lingering.
She liked the buzz it created, a low hum through her body that had her looking forward to saying good night. Would he ask her over for a nightcap? Should she invite him to her place for coffee?
As she pushed her knife and fork together in the middle of her plate, he said, ‘Would you like dessert?’
‘No thanks, I couldn’t squeeze another morsel in.’ She gestured to the shells on the platter between them, remnants of their tasty dinner. ‘That was lovely.’
‘The seafood was tasty.Youare lovely.’
Coming from any other guy that would’ve sounded corny, but Jem had this way of looking at her that made her believe every word he uttered. She liked how he was staring at her now, like he was still hungry but not for food. And in that split second, she made a decision. Why waste time when she knew what she wanted?
‘Want to get out of here?’
‘Sure,’ he said, standing so quickly she’d barely moved, only registering the reason for his speed when he pulled out her chair. Either he took his good manners seriously or he wanted to leave as fast as she did. She hoped it was the latter.
He took her hand as they left the pub, and when they reached her car, she murmured, ‘Thanks for dinner,’ before stepping in close so he couldn’t misconstrue what she wanted: his arms wrapped around her, his mouth devouring hers.
‘My pleasure.’
Their gazes locked, and when he didn’t move, she gave in to the overwhelming urge to kiss him. Pressing her lips to his, she savoured his small gasp of surprise, her tongue sliding into his mouth, tasting the rich Barossa grapes and a hint of the lemon he’d drenched his oysters in. She slid one hand up his chest to anchor on his neck and the other lower, skimming his ribcage, his waist, to the front of his pants …
He broke the kiss and stepped away. ‘I better go. I’ll be in touch once I have the paperwork ready for you to sign.’
With that, Jem almost ran the few metres to his car, wrenched open his door and fell inside before slamming the door shut.