The Summer of Jake (5 page)

Annalise directed me to a local mall, and after I’d parked, I went around to her door and hung an arm around her shoulders. It was something I did to Kelly all the time, and often to female friends, but Annalise flinched then stopped walking.

Confused, I paused beside her and watched her take a shuddering breath. “Annalise, what’s wrong?”

As she met my eyes, she looked like she was steeling herself. “Jake, I need to say something,” she said in a rush. “You may be an incurable flirt, but I don’t appreciate you flirting with me. We both know it’s going nowhere. I’m enjoying helping you, but if you want me to continue, you’re going to have to promise there’ll be no more flirting and no more touching.” When I didn’t respond straight away, she added, “I’m serious, Jake.”

Ouch. Those words stung. And she was right. I already knew we couldn’t have a fling—not with Kelly’s best friend—and here I was flirting anyway.

Yeah, the apple never fell far from the tree.

You’re just like me. You’ll never amount to anything.

“Okay.” I winced when my voice came out more of a rasp. I’d caused this, which meant it was my responsibility to get us back on an even keel, so I shrugged as carelessly as I could and found a smile. “Come on, let’s get some lunch before we start shopping. I think I’ll need the strength.”

Over sushi in a little hole-in-the-wall place, I really began to wish I hadn’t put my damn arm around her. I just hadn’t been thinking. Now an awkward formality had sprung up between us, and I didn’t know how to fix it—or whether I should even try. Annalise ate her avocado sushi and pretended everything was fine while giving hesitant smiles and telling stilted stories. Maybe after we started shopping again, things would smooth out on their own.

After lunch, we headed for a menswear shop. I picked up a green shirt with black pinstripes and held it against myself for Annalise’s opinion.

“That’s nice, Jake,” she said with a tentative smile. “Try it on with this one, and I’ll keep looking.” She handed me a black shirt with a white and gray pattern before turning away.

“Okay.” The last thing I saw as I closed the door to the changing room was Annalise flicking through racks of clothes.

As I pulled my T-shirt over my head then unbuttoned the black and white shirt, I was suddenly aware of the intimacy of this arrangement. I was standing bare-chested, almost within reach of Annalise, about to put on clothes she’d picked out for me. I’d been shirtless around women before. In fact, given the amount of time I’d spent at the beach over my life, I’d probably spent almost as much time without a shirt on as the time I was covered. But it was different today. More so even than it had been at the first shop. Why was that?

I slid my arms through the sleeves, feeling the cool fabric where it touched my skin and again thought of Annalise waiting just outside. Thought of her skin.

Crap. Why did my mind keep wandering to her? Stripping the shirt off, I blinked hard and shook my head, unwilling to let my brain put sexy thoughts and Annalise together. She was off-limits.

I’d tried long-term once—had asked a girl I was crazy about to marry me, but she’d thrown my proposal back in my face. Turned out she knew me better than I’d known myself back then, and, now that I was wiser, I wouldn’t make the same mistake again. I couldn’t manage a long-term relationship, and anything else would be asking for trouble with Annalise.

I threw the green shirt on and stepped out the changing room door. Annalise’s gaze went to the black and white shirt sitting lopsided on its hanger. “Did you try that one already?”

Nodding, I grabbed it and thrust it at the sales assistant standing nearby. “It didn’t feel right.”

“Okay, good,” Annalise said. “If we’re going to work out what your personal style is, then how the clothes make you feel is important. What about this one?”

I looked down at the shirt as it hung on my frame. The only thing that mattered was that I hadn’t been thinking about Annalise’s skin when I tried it on, so it felt neutral. “This one’s fine.”

We bought the green shirt and picked up another pair of slacks in an adjoining store before I had to call a time-out. There were only so many clothes stores I could enter before I went insane.

“I’m not used to this much shopping. I think that’s all I can stand in one day. Tell you what, how about I take you out for dinner to thank you for the time and effort you’ve spent on me?”

A small frown line appeared between her eyebrows. “I don’t think…”

I blew out a breath. If we were to keep working together during this makeover, I needed to find a way to see her as my little sister’s best friend again. Meeting on neutral ground when I was fully clothed seemed the best way to do it. Plus I wanted a chance to talk about things other than myself so I could get everything back to the way it should be.

“Come on, Annalise,” I said, running a hand through my hair. “I feel bad about what you said before. You were right, and I obviously upset you. Let me make it up to you.”

“Okay. I’ll agree if I can choose the restaurant and we make it part of our work.” She didn’t quite meet my eyes as she agreed, but then that was part of the reason for suggesting it in the first place. Hopefully after tonight, things would be back to how they’d been a couple of days ago.

I nodded. “Deal.”

“You can drop me off at home and pick me up again at seven,” she said, her voice business-like. “I’ll make the reservations.”

“What’s the dress code for this restaurant?” I tried to sound teasing, but even to my own ears it came across as hesitant.

“Wear the burgundy shirt. I think I liked that one on you best.”

She looked at me as if she expected a suggestive remark in reply, but I’d already gotten the message loud and clear, so all I said in reply was, “Then I’ll wear it.”

Although, I wondered as I walked away if she’d been pleased that I’d held back, or if that had been a flash of disappointment in her eyes…

…

Annalise

I’d been so full of excitement the morning of my sixteenth birthday, only able to be still long enough to say a silent prayer of thanks that it’d fallen on a Saturday.

There were plans for dinner with my parents that night, but I was going over to Kelly’s for lunch.

Choosing the perfect clothes, hairstyle, and makeup took several hours. My mother had taught me to always look my best, but any trip to Kelly’s held the possibility of bumping into Jake and therefore called for special attention to my appearance.

My father dropped me off, and Kelly met me at the door with a hug. “Happy birthday, Lisey! Wait till you see what Mum’s done.”

We walked, arms linked, into the kitchen-dining room, chatting and laughing. Kelly’s mother, resplendent in a red and black gypsy ensemble, rushed from behind the counter to envelop Kelly and me in a tight group hug.

“Happy birthday, sweetie.” She pulled back to smile into my eyes.

I hugged her again. “Thanks, Eden.” Eden had invited me to call her by her first name when we’d met. That intimacy, however, was nothing compared to the love Eden inspired through her actions.

I had no doubt my own mother loved me—even if she was a little…disapproving—but Eden made a point of showing me I was special at every opportunity. And she obviously felt that a sixteenth birthday was one such opportunity.

Being a star singer on Sydney’s pub circuit, with a flair and image that had earned her the tag of Australia’s answer to Stevie Nicks, Eden knew how to put on a bash.

Violet and lavender streamers and balloons hung from every possible point; a hand-painted poster draped a window, and party food covered the dining room table. For a moment I was too shocked to speak. Then I looked back at the twin smiles of expectation waiting at the doorway. Kelly had the same height and build as her mother, and they gripped each other’s waists, eager for my reaction.

“Kelly, Eden, this is great! Thanks so much.”

Kelly released her mother and rushed to grab my arm. “Mum’s made a cake and iced a sixteen on the top and everything.” She seemed as excited as if it was her own birthday. “And we got you such a cool present, but you can’t open it till we’ve eaten and you cut your cake.”

Eden flicked her long blond hair behind her shoulder in a casual move I’d seen her perform on stage. She was the coolest mother in the galaxy. “Why don’t you girls put some music on while I finish with the food?”

“Okay,” Kelly answered, pulling me into the lounge room to choose the birthday music.

We went through our usual routine of offering up options until we’d chosen enough to last through the meal. As we finally pressed the play button, we heard the front door open.

Looking up, we saw two scraggly, windswept boys making faces at each other and laughing.

“Come on, Kel,” Jake said, “do we have to hear that song
again
?”

“Shut up, Jake. It’s Annalise’s birthday so she gets to choose the music. Mum said so.”

“Birthday, huh?” Jake peered through the archway and noticed the decorations. He sauntered into the room and looked me up and down. “How old?”

I had barely taken a breath since I’d heard Jake’s voice, but I wasn’t about to let him know that. I was well aware that Jake was out of my league—he was gorgeous, popular, and older.
And
he barely looked at me. I’d often cried myself to sleep wondering why I had such a huge crush on someone so unattainable.

Swallowing, I lifted my chin slightly and spoke in what I hoped was a steady voice. “Sixteen.”

Jake cast a look back at Adam, and they grinned at each other. “Sixteen?” He walked over and stood in front of me, barely a foot away. I couldn’t move; I just stared up at him. It was the most attention Jake had ever paid me.

He reached out and ran a finger down my cheek, coming to a rest under my chin. “Sweet sixteen and never been kissed?” He spoke quietly and raised an eyebrow. For a long second I thought he was going to kiss me there in the living room, but then he grinned and turned back to Adam. “Come on. We’d better shower if we’re going to make it to meet the girls.”

Chapter Five

Annalise

Jake arrived at my place on the dot of seven o’clock, looking devastating in the new burgundy shirt, but the change in his hair was far more extreme than the change in his clothes.

“You’ve cut your hair!”

“Good evening to you, too, Annalise. Yeah, I cut my hair. What do you think?” He ran a hand through the layers and grinned.

“Well, I like it, but…” The sun-bleached tresses were gone. He’d cut it so short that his natural dark brown now framed his face. He looked a little less familiar but, strangely, even sexier. My libido perked up.

Great. Just what I needed.

Remember Scarlett. Remember blond Scarlett.

“It’s nice, Jake, it’s just I’ve never seen you with short hair before.”

“I thought I should put some effort in and not leave everything for you to do.” He tugged at the collar of his new shirt, drawing my attention not to his shirt, but to his throat. His smooth, tanned throat. His smooth, tanned, highly kissable throat, with a prominent Adam’s apple that moved as he swallowed or spoke.

Reach out and feel if it’s as smooth as it looks,
my libido whispered.

Slamming the door behind me, I forced a tight smile. “That was very considerate of you.”

I gave him the name of the restaurant at Watson’s Bay and walked to the passenger door of his Jeep, only to be beaten to it by Jake. Well, that was new. He hadn’t done it at the shops and I’d never seen him do it as a nineteen-year-old. “Fancy move, Maxwell.”

“I do know some of this stuff—I just don’t use it very often,” he answered dryly.

I stepped into the car and watched him through the windshield as he walked around to the driver’s side.

The clothes and haircut had made him much more dangerous. Before, I’d seen him as an older version of the nineteen-year-old whose only passion in life was surfing. Now I could see him as the man he’d become, the man who’d taken his passion and transformed it into a business empire. See him the way other people must see him, a man to be respected.

A man to fall in love with—not just the object of a crush.

As he climbed in and started the car, he caught my eye. “I know, it takes some getting used to, doesn’t it?”

“What?” Had I spoken out aloud?

“The haircut. I’ll have to visit Mum and Kelly over the weekend, they’ll be over the moon. They’ve been hounding me to cut it for years.”

A warm fuzzy feeling enveloped me at the thought of Kelly and Eden. “You know, I haven’t seen your mother since Kelly’s wedding. She was wonderful when I was a teenager, always feeding me and letting Kelly and me turn our music up loud, pretending to like it even though it wasn’t her style.”

“Really? She never pretended to like my music.” He looked over, his eyes crinkling at the corners, before pulling out onto the street.

“Yes, but your music
was
awful. Kelly and I listened to much better stuff.”

He put a hand over his heart. “I’m hurt! How could you say that? I had great taste.”

“Hmm. Well, we should probably add music to the list while we’re at it. I don’t think Scarlett will go for your alternative bands.”

Scarlett’s name managed to dampen my spirits, and even Jake lost his teasing tone for the rest of the drive.

We arrived at the restaurant, and Jake again opened my door but didn’t touch me on the walk along the moonlit harbor. We strolled side-by-side in a non-date kind of way.

Which was a good thing.

Well, if not quite a good thing, it was at least what I’d asked for.

Once we were seated with our menus, I looked over at Jake scouring his. “What are you ordering?” I asked.

He eyed me over the top of his menu. “I suppose fish and chips is too much to hope for?”

I tried to suppress my grin. “Actually, they do serve it. It’s on the specials board.”

“Grilled barramundi with hand cut fries and aioli,” he read out. “That works. What are you having?”

“The mushroom pasta. Do you want wine?”

“I’m not much of a wine fan. I really like a beer with fish and chips.”

“They have imported boutique beers.” I pointed to the list on the menu. “But maybe the next thing on our agenda could be to try some wines and see if there are any you like.”

He adjusted his position in his seat and looked out over the boats on the harbor, frowning.

“Jake? Did I say something wrong?”

He turned back and held my gaze for a moment before taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly. “It’s just that I never knew women saw so much wrong with me. Wine, food, music, clothes, hair—and this is only the second day.”

A pang of sympathy coiled in my chest, and I realized that, despite his confidence, the changes must be a blow to his ego. “I didn’t tell you to change your hair—I liked it longer, as well. Besides, I don’t think the women you dated have seen anything wrong.” I reached out and laid my hand over his.

He looked down at our hands, as if the answers were there. “But sophisticated women must. Women like Scarlett. Like you.” He raised his eyes to mine.

What could I say? A flirty, cocky, sexy Jake was hard enough to keep at arm’s length, but what were my chances of maintaining emotional distance when I was looking directly into his heart? Everything inside me yearned to reach out to him, to show him how he affected me just as he was. To prove that simply sitting there, doing nothing, he drew me in by an invisible cord, made me want to be near him, touch him, kiss him.

The silence stretched; my pulse felt erratic. I opened my mouth to speak, but had no idea what to say without saying everything.

With impeccable timing—or possibly not—the waiter arrived to take our order, and the spell was broken.

Once we were alone again, Jake’s moment of melancholy seemed to dissipate. “I’ve been thinking,” he said, leaning both elbows on the table, his chin propped on one hand. “We have this weird relationship where we’ve spent a lot of time in the same places, even in the same conversations, but only know surface things about each other.” He frowned. “Actually, that’s probably not right. You must know more about my life than I know about yours. You have an unfair advantage.”

Did he know about the crush and was teasing me? Or was I being oversensitive? “Why would you think that?” I shook out my napkin and feigned innocence.

“You’ve been close to both my sister and my mother, and I know how they talk. Plus I never saw your home, or you in your own space, yet you were around my house a lot when we were younger, so you would have seen me when I was unguarded.”

“It wasn’t that big of a deal,” I said, trying to make it sound casual.

“I also seem to remember you on the beach with Kelly during some of my early surf competitions.”

Oh my God. He remembers.

But…what did he remember? A glamorous, yet endearing sixteen-year-old who was out of his reach? A stylishly fashionable creature who was unfortunately too young for him? An embarrassingly ugly frump he couldn’t bear to acknowledge? I winced, knowing the answer. “I’m surprised you recognized me on the beach. I always wore long-sleeved shirts and large hats so I didn’t burn.”

“It’s paid off for you now. Your skin looks as smooth as cream. You’re lucky you covered up in the sun so much then.”

Oooh, nice compliment. But, of course, this was Jake The Charmer.

I laughed and flicked back my hair. “You would’ve been hard-pressed to convince me I was lucky then.”

“Was it uncomfortable in the heat?”

“Not the clothes. The lack of male attention was hard for a sixteen-year-old fledgling ego. Boys only looked at the girls parading around in bikinis.”

His eyes narrowed in seriousness. “Then they were fools.”

Remember to breathe. Remember to breathe.

“May I remind you that you were one of those fools on the beach?”

“So I was. I can only plead that my nineteen-year-old testosterone and nineteen-year-old brain were both very immature. I’m looking now, though.”

The room stilled, yet, inside me, everything leapt to chaotic life. I bit down on my lip, not knowing how to respond, but Jake continued. “Before you tell me to stop flirting again, I’ll tell you that wasn’t flirting, merely truth. But I can see I’ve made you uncomfortable, so I’ll change the subject. Tell me how someone becomes a fashion designer.”

I chatted away until my pulse returned to a safe level and our food arrived, telling him about the two-year course I’d undertaken and the variety of part-time fashion jobs and internships I’d had since high school, learning about the industry.

“That time’s been worth it—I think I’ve made a coup by getting in at the ground floor. I predict your career will go far and fast.”

“I hope so.” I tucked my hair behind my ear and smiled, tingling all over from the compliment.

“So,” he raised his eyebrows. “You were going to tell me a bit about yourself.”

“I was?”

“Mmm. I commented that you seemed to be at my house a lot when we were younger. Did Kelly go to your place, too?”

“Yes, but we spent more time at your house.” I looked down at my pasta, determined not to let him know what the prime attraction of Kelly’s house was.

“Why was that?” He gave me a look of genuine interest.

Luckily, there were reasons besides his love-godly-self. “Your house was always filled with noise and music and fun. And your mother reminded me of a flamboyant Earth mother—drawing in stray friends, either yours or Kelly’s, keeping us nurtured and entertained. I treasured the time I spent there.”

“Didn’t you have those things at your house?”

I wrinkled my nose. “Oh, no. Squealing in delight or dancing to the radio were good things in your house, but my mother thought them
not proper behavior
in young ladies.” I mimicked my mother’s stern voice.

“I don’t remember you ever squealing in delight.” He grinned, obviously amused at the thought.

He had to be kidding. At sixteen, I had trouble
breathing
around him, let alone squealing. Actually, some things hadn’t changed. “I was more shy when boys were around, so you probably missed the teenage girl antics.”

“Don’t worry, Kelly more than made up for anyone else’s shyness.” He rolled his eyes. “I certainly think my life’s had its fair share of teenage girl antics.” Then he sobered. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Sure,” I said warily.

He rubbed a hand across his forehead, as if trying to work out how to phrase it. “Would I be right in assuming,” he paused, “ah, that you think there were better ways to raise a child than the way your parents raised you?”

It felt disloyal to say so, but Jake was obviously asking a serious question, so he deserved an honest answer. “That’s a fair assessment.”

“Does it ever worry you that you’d be the same type of parent as them?”

I laughed. “Nope. I plan on doing the exact opposite to whatever they would have done in any given situation.”

“I guess that could work,” he said, nodding. “You sound like you’re the opposite type of person to them anyway. Not all of us are as lucky.”

Was he talking about his father? I wanted to ask, but it seemed more of an intrusion to question him about his parents than for him to ask about mine. After all, his parents were famous. Magazines still occasionally ran stories about his father, speculating and gossiping, even all these years after his death. There was a fine line between asking something personal and snooping the way the magazines did.

When our dinner plates had been cleared and we’d ordered coffee and dessert, I was keen to avoid another visit into my past, so I reached for a new topic.

“How is it, Jake, that a man of your standing in the business world has been able to get away for so long with wearing jeans to business meetings and avoiding
society
?”

“Just lucky, I guess.” He grinned. “I was fairly well-known in the industry from my pro surfing days, so I think people gave me a lot of leeway. Maybe they even expected it. What do you think?”

“I think it’s certainly helped your media image. Local Boy Makes Good, Keeps Down-To-Earth Attitude.”

Jake chuckled. “Don’t forget the obligatory photo of me with a board under my arm.”

As our eyes met in a moment of shared humor, my heart clenched with longing. Why, of all the men in the world, was it this man who had this effect on me? Why was someone so unattainable, so completely out of my league, the one that made my body purr when he was near?

With a concerted effort, I drew my attention back to the conversation. “So it wasn’t a conscious decision? A public relations strategy?”

“Nope. I was just comfortable the way I was and didn’t see any reason to change.”

“Until now.”

“Until now,” he agreed.

Not wanting to let my good mood deteriorate during the inevitable discussion about Scarlett, I changed the subject again and asked him about his time on the pro circuit. He obliged with a supply of anecdotes about waves, sun, and parties.

I had tears in my eyes from laughing when the waiter arrived with our desserts. After he left, Jake said, “I think I’ve been talking too long. Tell me, have you put any thought into the favor?”

“The favor?”

“I told you in the café you could still have one favor, as well as our agreed terms, in exchange for my makeover. Have you thought of one?”

Remember blond Scarlett.

“I can’t say that I have. Maybe dinner tonight could count?”

“Nope. It has to be something you choose before it happens and something you really want. This dinner would hardly be something you
really
want, would it?”

I felt the flutter of a blush creeping up my neck.
You might be surprised by what I want, Jake Maxwell
. “I can’t think of anything I want as a favor, but I promise I’ll give it some thought.”

He made a mock-stern face. “Don’t think I’ll forget. I promised you a favor, and I’ll deliver.”

Hmm, now that had some possibilities—Jake delivering…

Then, as if from a distance, I heard Jake ask for news on Mindy Mini, snapping me out of the fantasy.