Amber Jakeman's Blog, page 8

House of Diamonds (serialized)

Enjoy this excerpt from my novel, House of Diamonds, a sweet, sparkling modern love tale about duelling jewelers. Will they ever work out what to do with an engagement ring?

I’m serializing it with a new chapter each week. Sign up here or below to receive new chapters and join my VIP newsletter. Find out about Amber Jakeman and the House of Jewels series. Happy reading!

Chapter 2(Did you miss Chapter 1? Click here to find it and catch up!)Sign up for more chapters

The lunchtime rush on her brand new Bondi Junction stall was over. In the sudden lull, Stella watched a trio of birds on a lamp post. Two took flight, and one stayed put.

That had been her, that lone bird, more than a decade ago, when Jeannie and their mother had packed up again and left for Sydney. At 16, emboldened by a well-meaning teacher, Stella put her foot down and stayed on in Perth by herself – to her recent regret.

She’d accomplished some things she’d wanted, like enjoying a stable income and putting a halt to a life of constant change with their nomadic mother, but every gain had come at a cost.

Denying her natural creative talent, Stella ended up working in offices for more than a decade, her fingers busy on keyboards and telephones, far from her beloved needle-nose pliers. Worse, she’d fallen for Damian.

Jeannie knew her best. She saw it coming. Tried to warn her.

Awed by the realisation she could make her own decisions about where to live, Stella applied at a temp agency to become an office assistant, a job which freed her to continue creating her jewelry at night.

Yes, she’d wondered if she’d made a mistake the day Jeannie and Stella had packed yet again and actually moved out, but she’d been starting work in the city next day – paid work – and the exhilaration of running her own life, managing her own expenses and making her own decisions thrilled her.

Stella barely noticed she spent less and less time creating jewelry. Every few months, the agency found a new work placement for her, and then she’d scored a permanent position at WestMine with a spectacular salary. They’d even trained her, giving her time and funds to finish high school and gain tertiary qualifications in office management. Busy with evening classes, Stella left her creativity on the back burner.

Learning new skills, she gained more responsibility. It was only a matter of time before one of her bosses who’d left WestMine to run his own show headhunted her away to work with him at Exos, his new mining investment consultancy.

He’d been smooth alright. Damian Beaumont. She’d never forget the day he pulled up beside the curb when she was out at lunch.

“You,” he’d said, with those dark glasses and a perfect smile that reached right out through the open passenger side window, transfixed her and reeled her right in.

She should have known Damian’s world was too smooth to be real. She’d grown up being driven around in cars that blew head gaskets or with banged-up doors that wouldn’t open. Or if they did, they wouldn’t close. Once, when her mother Flame’s old car broke down on the way back from school, their mother simply bundled up the girls, collected the shopping bags from the trunk, and calmly told her daughters to grab their library books and school bags. They’d all just abandoned the car and walked away.

So, when Damian’s vehicle glided to the kerb in front of Stella showing not one speck of dirt, and that tinted window slid down without a sound, and there he was, suave, with a slight smile, in his designer sunglasses, Stella was swept off her feet and into the passenger seat without a backward glance. The door closed quietly on the city bustle. Stella was enveloped in a little capsule of Damian’s world that smelled of leather and money and expensive aftershave.

It took her a long time to question the source of Damian’s wealth and the way she was spending her life. Four long years.

First into the Exos office to ensure the water cooler was full, the air conditioning on and Damian’s appointment files in order, Stella always greeted her colleagues and his clients with efficient smiles. She would ask about their families and pets. Exos was growing quickly. Always sympathetic to newcomers from a childhood as the perpetual outsider, she went out of her way to ensure new staff felt welcome and knew where to find everything they needed, even the shoe repairers, dry cleaners and specialist shops. Stella was the one who fixed people’s staplers, sorted their printing and made sure the office ran as perfectly as Damian’s orthodontically corrected smile. Over time, she took on the brand management, admin and human resources, hiring more staff as Exos grew.

When Damian’s PA, Jacqui, left in a huff one day, it became Stella’s job to work more closely with him. He came to rely on her efficiency, showing his appreciation with his eyes and praise. Damian valued her. Respected her.

She loved his glances and smiles, striving to please him, needing that injection of joy only he could provide.

That year, Stella took charge of the office Christmas party, with the theme of winter wonderland. With almost forty staff, it would be their biggest ever.

“Watch out, Stell,” Jeannie counselled as Stella rang her for a chat one lunch time.

“What do you mean?”

“You realise you can’t start a sentence without saying ‘Damian’ first? It’s all ‘Damian this’ and ‘Damian that.’”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Is he some kind of father figure to you, Stell? Or have you got a crush on him? Just be careful, okay.”

The festive white tinsel and helium balloons bumped along the ceiling, pearly ones, trailing silver ribbons. The boardroom was pumping to schmaltzy Christmas music – Six White Boomers, I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas. Stella’s colleagues gasped as they entered the room and were handed their salt-encrusted glasses with dry martinis, gin and tonics, champagne flutes or sparkling mineral water.

Damian loved her idea of the ice sculpture, a huge EXOS for the centre of the table. A sea of dry ice fog swirled around the platters of almost all-white foods. Oysters, salty white sweet potato wedges, onigiri, sushi, Japanese white rice treats, tofu selections and towers of sweets – meringues, marshmallows, and an enormous, creamy pavlova.

When Stella turned on the blue light, Damian, immaculate in his white suit, stepped forward into the hush to toast the company’s successful year.

Stella blushed as he lavished praise on the celebration. He didn’t name her. Instead, he stared at her, all of her, starting with her necklace, one she’d just finished, each pearl strung on its own silver wire, radiating from a silver choker.

Damian’s eyes were on her the whole night, and when she stayed back to clean up and he emerged from his office, they were alone together. Several martinis down, there was a kind of inevitability about him stepping in closer and grabbing her wrist.

Finally he was going to notice her matching bracelet, she thought, before he twisted her even closer and kissed her, hard.

She surrendered to the moment. Hadn’t she been half expecting this, half hoping for it? Jeannie was right. Stella was in love with the boss. Half the staff were. Damian had chosen her.

“What’s up, little sister?” When they hadn’t spoken throughout the week as usual, Jeannie phoned her.

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t hold out on me, Stell. Something’s up. You’re in love, aren’t you? So, who’s the lucky guy? How was the Christmas party by the way?”

“Went well, thanks. The blue light was a great idea. Thank Matt, would you?”

“Sure will. So come on. Who’s the guy?”

“How’s your own Christmas prep, Jeannie? Tree?”

“Had to go for a tiny one, for the centre of the table. It’s just too risky with Lucy. Everything goes in her mouth. Can you imagine? Christmas is a nightmare! Everything’s new and different and shiny and it’s all either tin foil or plastic and breakable. When are we going to see you?”

“Not sure, really. Damian needs me.”

“That boss of yours. No. Stella. Don’t tell me it’s the boss. Are you sure about this guy?”

Her sister knew her too well.

“Gotta go, Jeannie.”

“Hey, don’t freeze me out here, Stell. Am I right?”

“It’s easy for you. You have Matt. Not all of us can find Mr Perfect. Besides, it’s not serious.”

“Not serious? Sex is serious, Stell.”

“Please. When did you get so pious, Jeannie? After our upbringing, I would have thought you’d have an open mind.”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt, Stell. Guys like that. They’re into power. Do you want a fling, or do want a future? And the moment it’s over, your job will be, too. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

She did, at the time, anyway. But in the longer term, Jeannie was right. Damian Beaumont had it made. His efficient young PA accompanied on business trips out of town. Adjoining rooms.

A year passed and then another, and he was no closer to committing to any kind of formal future with her, beyond his vague allusions to “one day.” They’d worked together so easily and for so long that she rarely had a thought of her own. It was “Damian would like this” and “Damian will need that.” When visitors from the UK were expected, she’d book the restaurant for them without being asked. She even knew what table he’d want reserved.

Maybe it was another phone call from Jeannie that forced her to question what she was doing with her life.

“Coming over for your birthday, sis?”

“Oh.”

“Yep. Your big one. Big three oh. The hill. We always said we’d celebrate it together… What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know, Jeannie. There’s another meeting. In London.”

“Surely you don’t have to go this time. You can get leave can’t you? You do enough overtime.”

“I just don’t know, alright?” She hadn’t meant to snap at Jeannie. The truth was she knew exactly what she wanted. She wanted Damian to take her with him to London as he often did. And she wanted him to take her to dinner for her big birthday. Anywhere. Just the two of them. She could see it. He’d hold her hand in the candlelight and ask her to marry him. It wasn’t an unreasonable expectation. Hadn’t she spent every waking minute for the past few years working for his every benefit?

Birthdays! Stella remembered every colleague’s birthday. She was a specialist in finding the right kind of big card for each person, furtively taking it around for everyone to sign. She’d buy their favourite cakes, even remembering who was “gluten free.” She was the one who washed up all those matching plates and forks when everyone else returned to their desks and meetings. If Exos staff felt appreciated, it was because of Stella’s efforts.

She could see what she was doing, and began to hate herself. She’d wait back every evening until she was the last to leave, waiting for Damian to give her that special smile of appreciation, or a touch on the arm, or sex in his office the way he liked it, in the dark, fast and thrilling.

Yes. Stella had every reason to think her thirtieth birthday with Damian in London might be special. She’d booked their flights and a suite in the Knightsbridge hotel near the head office, with another adjoining room for herself.

“Shall I book a restaurant as well, for the 16th?” she’d asked.

“Why’s that? Miles doesn’t fly in till the following evening. You know that.”

She shouldn’t have been surprised. Damian didn’t have access to her calendar, with its big thirtieth looming, and nothing much else. But she’d swallowed and dared to dream.

“I was wondering whether you might want to take me to dinner.”

“Hmmm?” He’d been checking his phone. Not that there was much need. Stella was right on top of his schedule.

“No. No time.”

So that was that. She stood in a London bookshop and stared at birthday cards, quietly crying, furious at herself for not telling him about her special day, for not insisting he acknowledge her as a human being, with her own needs beyond a pay packet and the calculated flash of his smile.

“You okay?” he asked her over the coffee she’d brought him at Heathrow Airport while they waited for their flight back to Australia. It wasn’t exactly a caring tone. More critical. He liked her best when she was smiling and agreeable, much as he liked a pristine bathroom. He was far too busy to enquire into the real state of her wellbeing.

Normally she would have smiled reassuringly. But something inside her had changed, had woken up, and refused to back down.

“I just turned thirty, Damian.”

“Commiserations. Welcome to the other side of the hill.” Then he asked whether she’d arranged a hire car for him back in Perth.

She should have known Damian wouldn’t rescue her, that the whole fantasy she’d built up about him caring for her, actually loving her, was just her own elaborate wishful thinking. All these years he’d let her think they might have a future together, he’d reaped all the benefits of her hopes.

“Ever thought of, you know…” Stella said, reaching for his hand. Their plane was delayed. It seemed as good a time as any to see where he thought their relationship might be going. But she hated the way her question made her sound. Needy. Pathetic. But she wanted some certainty, dammit. Friends were starting to settle down. She wanted his babies. What was so wrong with that?

Damian’s expression turned stony. He looked away from her, withdrew his hand.

He always did this. All those times she’d suggested she stay over, or invited him for dinner at her place. He always backed away. Always kept his options open. Refused to pin “one day” to an actual timeframe.

When her friend Bonnie from night school invited her to her housewarming when she and her boyfriend moved in together, Stella asked Damian along.

“No. You go,” he’d said. “I’ve got a dinner. Potential investor.”

Or that time she’d left some of her things in his spare bathroom for those rare nights she stayed over. He packaged them in a sealable plastic bag and dropped them on her desk.

“No need to leave your stuff lying around,” he’d said. “I’m sure you want these back.”

“Oh no …”

“You know me. I like things clean and tidy.”

“Shampoo is clean, Damian. It takes up hardly any space.”

He stormed off, telling her to get his tax advisor on the line, as if she and her feelings were an irritation.

Jeannie was scathing.

“Can’t you see what he’s doing, Stell? My heart aches for you.”

“What, Jeannie? He’s a clean freak. What’s wrong with that?”

“Oh, Stell. If he has that rule for all his girlfriends, you’ll never find out about each other.”

Was it true? Stella had Damian’s calendar. She checked it. He didn’t have time for any other girlfriends, did he? Unless “Alex” wasn’t really his personal fitness coach. And he did seem to have a number of inexplicable appointments at odd hours. She’d always thought he was at tanning clinics, or entertaining potential clients.

She decided to test him.

“Let’s move in together, Damian. It would make things so much simpler for us both, don’t you think?”

“Hmmm. I’ll give it some thought. Look, I need to get some statements out to our biggest investors today. How are you placed? Can you package them up for me?”

Later that week, she noticed Damian beam at the youngest office assistant, then wink at her when she’d brought him his coffee. She didn’t fawn. But she didn’t look unhappy with the attention. Damian did that to people. Charmed them. She remembered how eager she’d been to please him. Still was. Desperate for the fix of his approval.

Surely there was more in her life than this obsession with Damian. Jeannie was right. Stell’s every waking minute was consumed by ensuring his happiness, making his business successful, full of hopes for their future together.

That lunch time, she forced herself to go to a craft shop. She bought a sketch pad and began to sketch jewelry designs right there on her desk, an old passion from her school days that never failed to bring her joy – neglected for far too long.

Collecting the spare agendas after a board meeting, she absentmindedly squashed one of the empty coffee pods and noticed its potential for making jewelry. There and then she retrieved all of them she could find, took them home and began experimenting, excited by what she could make.

When she wore her new earrings to work the next day, Shamira, the accountant, admired them.

“Get another pay rise, Stella?” Shamira stared at her ears.

Stella laughed. “You like them? They’re yours!” She took them off and handed them over, explaining how they’d been destined for the boardroom bin the day before. She liked Shamira, one of her hires. She worked hard and was always ready to share her interesting herbal teas.

“No way. They’re beautiful. I’ll pay you for them.”

“No you won’t Shamira. You have no idea how thrilled I am that you like them.”

Stella left work at 5pm from then on, rushing home to create more jewelry. No longer would she wait around for Damian.

Before long, Damian’s kindnesses to the new assistant, Lexie, were ramping up. “Get yourself a pot plant,” she overheard him saying to Lexie one morning when she’d greeted him. He’d thrust a $50 note at her and waved away her attempt to return it.

Another time he sent Lexie down to Switzers to buy mints, insisting she keep the change. All these things, he’d done with Stella when she’d been new. Would Lexie fall for it, too?

Suddenly the contempt his old PA had shown Stella the day she’d replaced her began to make sense. She saw her relationship with Damian in a new and shocking light. How naive she’d been! He’d been grooming her, totally taking advantage. #MeToo, alright. It sickened her to think she’d always believed he genuinely cared for her. She must catch Lexie and warn her; let her know she didn’t have to put up with that way of behaving from anyone. Tell her she could keep a professional distance without appearing rude, and still keep her job.

Or was she just jealous? But what was “just” about jealousy? Could he replace her so easily? How dare he!

Her gut jacked up. It waged war with her. She rose from her ergonomically perfect chair and knocked on Damian’s door, entering and closing it behind her. Immersed in his computer screen, he ignored her.

“Damian.”

“Mmm?”

“We need to talk.”

“Can it wait? This is important.”

“This is important, too.”

He sighed. Like a child interrupted from play. He gave her his exaggerated attention, as if she were an annoyance. Why had she never noticed that about him before? A petulance.

“Why did Jacqui leave? She was good at her job. You two seemed like a real team.”

Silence.

“How many PAs have you had, Damian?”

“Three? Four? Why?”

“Did you sleep with all of us?”

“Stella!”

“And when exactly did you move on from each of them? Was it when they started asking about their future?”

“Stella!” He pushed back his chair and stood, his full height a threat to her, but she stood her ground.

“You made me feel like you loved me, like the care and attention I’ve lavished on you all these years might be reciprocated. I’m feeling used, Damian. As if I’m as replaceable as your office chair.”

Damian was no fool. Stella had watched him in countless meetings, reading the room, hedging his bets, ensuring his survival no matter the issue. He was reading her now, flicking through his options, evaluating her worth to him, her expendability. It occurred to her she was behaving exactly like his previous PA. Why had she been so blind?

“So. After all I’ve done for you, Damian. What do you say?”

“Stella. What’s this about? We’ve been good for each other, haven’t we? You’ve had pay rises. You’ve travelled the world. ”

“A few airports. A few hotel rooms, Damian.”

“You’ve never complained before now. What is this? Do you need a holiday? Is that it?” Conciliatory.

Her face felt like stone. Maybe she did need a holiday. No. She simply wanted more than this, this fear she was temporary, that she’d be thrown over for the next pretty office assistant.

“How about marriage. It’s a normal progression, you know. It’s not unthinkable.”

“Look, let’s talk about this later. Not now. These things take time, Stella. You should know that.”

“One year, maybe. It’s been four.”

“We’ll discuss it later.”

Her heart pumped so hard it threatened to explode. Was this really happening? She could stay and be placated and they’d be having this conversation for the rest of her life. Or she could go.

“No. I don’t think so. I’m resigning, Damian. I’ll leave the keys in my top drawer.”

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Published on July 04, 2021 15:13

House of Diamonds (serialized)

Chapter 1

Stella pushed the hair out of her eyes, stepped back and surveyed her stall, satisfaction surging through her. She’d done it. It was real!

Here beside a small street tree in the Oxford Street Mall in Sydney’s Bondi Junction, her stall was ablaze with her unique jewelry, each piece a product of her imagination and hard working fingers, and each piece in its place.

She glanced down at her soft cotton frock, dark blue with tiny red spots the exact red of her faux ruby drop earrings. Her simple summer outfit was such a welcome change from the office attire of dark skirts and jackets she’d worn for years. Yes. At last. Stellar, her own business, was ready to trade.

In the mild spring morning, the aroma of coffee wafted, mixing with the din of traffic and snippets of conversation in many languages. Stella pulled out her phone to record the moment, to send it to Jeannie to post on her new business’s Facebook and Instagram. As she snapped, a tall man in a distinguished, pale grey suit sprinted out of the closest building towards her.

The cut of his suit was perfect, the lapels slightly open to show a shirt the same blue as his eyes. Striking.
Her first customer?

No. He surveyed the mall like he owned the place. Frowning, he fixed her with his gaze, making her heart jump.

“We need you to move about twenty metres, up that way, if you wouldn’t mind,” he said. Smooth.

What? Move? Why would she move? She’d only just finished setting up. It had taken her months to prepare, and so much time just that morning, arranging her earrings and bracelets. What on earth could he mean?

“… just for a short time, thank you,” he said.

Her hackles rose. However handsome he might be, with that sun-kissed brown hair, and that way of smiling just on one side, as if life was a bit of joke as long as he was in control, he had no right to push her around.

“Actually, Mr …”

“Huntley. James Huntley.” He tipped his head back a little, indicating his connection with the three-storey building behind him, and she turned and read the ornate sign. Huntleys House of Diamonds.

Stella sighed. She didn’t reconfigure her whole life, resigning and moving here from Perth on the other side of the country, only to fall into the trap of obeying the next handsome man. No. She’d been there and done that. For too long. She’d been totally, pathetically, at the mercy of her boss Damian’s demands.

Obeying handsome men was a bad habit she’d finally kicked, hadn’t she?

This new Stella was strong and independent, she reminded herself. Stella now worked for herself, trusted only herself and obeyed only herself. She would no longer be told what to do by men who assumed she’d comply. So, whatever this man wanted, and however attractive he might be – and he was, quite attractive, every bit as good-looking as Damian, his hair more fair, and with a bit of a wave at the front, and those eyes – intense – she knew she had every right to stand her ground. And she would.

He waited expectantly, but she was only just ready to trade. With customers gathering, she needed to sell, sell, sell – and not waste another moment. Her licence to trade wasn’t a give away. It would take her months to pay back the loan she’d taken out to pay for it.

He lifted one hand up toward the side of her stack of display trays, as if to test his strength against its weight, to simply push her stall away. She could swear she saw his healthy bicep flex beneath that high quality pale grey woollen fabric.
How dare he! The flame of defiance inside her flashed fire. No. She would not be shoved away.

“Stella Rhys, Mr Huntley,” she answered, keeping her voice low and controlled, and extending her own hand to be shaken. His was smooth, the hand of a businessman, as cool as her own. It was a fine handshake, pleasant even.

Her mother would have fun reading this palm, she thought, smiling. It was a mistake. He must have interpreted her smile as acquiescence. Nodding and smiling in return, he held her hand just a moment longer than necessary.

“Thanks, so much, Stella. These stalls… There was nothing here for months, and suddenly you appear! Today of all days. It’s so good of you to move. Just for an hour or so.” He gave her the full blue gaze again and smiled.

For a moment Stella weakened, but she remembered the advice of Fritz, her nearest stallholder, who’d welcomed her to the mall only that morning.

“I’ve been here nearly thirty years, young lady,” Fritz had said. “Seen a thing or two in my time. Seen stalls come and seen them go. Can be tough out here on the mall. Don’t you let anyone push you around.”

Stella knew the terms of her licence. Thursday to Saturday, 11am to 7pm. Right here. So she lifted her sunglasses and fired back a dose of her own dark eyes – bright, quick and determined.

“Actually, James,” she began, amiably enough, with a hint of steel. She gestured at the small crowd gathering to admire her unusual brooches, rings, earrings and pendants, all laid out so temptingly in the bright sunshine. Her excitement ratcheted up a notch. Behind James, two older women, sisters perhaps, were pulling out their purses. Her first customers! It was James who needed to move, so she could trade.

“Look. This is my business, James – ‘Stellar,’” she continued, polite yet firm, her voice steady. “And I’m not moving it. Not at all. I don’t mean to be unreasonable; nothing personal; but as I see it, the Huntleys property boundary begins at the edge of your doorway. The mall here is public space, and this patch is mine.”

His smile froze. What was this?

“That’s right, isn’t it? Look. Here’s my permit. Nothing in it says I’m required to move. My licence is for six months, and my stall’s position is right here, right now. And as you can see, I need to look after my customers.”

“Come on, Ms Rhys, you wouldn’t mind helping out just this once, for half an hour or so; help me out here.”

The fire inside her ignited. She closed her eyes. Calmed herself. Opened them again.

“I thought I’d made myself clear, James. I do mind, and so I won’t move.” This time, her tone was pure ice, each word clearly articulated.

James conveyed his astonishment mildly, with raised eyebrows and a slight shrug.

She stared back, arms crossed. If it was a standoff, his stance wasn’t entirely hostile. Amused? A flicker of interest? Frustrated? Was there a flash of challenge? Admiration, even? He wasn’t like Damian – always controlling. James was sizing her up, those blue eyes drilling into her own.

Abruptly, he looked towards the street, where a cavalcade came into view, then answered his phone.

“Nicole? What’s that? Running early?” He turned away, ignoring Stella. His sudden indifference to her felt like a dismissal, a loss even. At any other time, she would have found this man interesting. Had there been something else behind the arrogance? A kind of decency?

Her heart still raced. Defiance had never come easily for her. But there was work to do, and she served her first customers, delighted to wrap each purchase in her tissue paper covered with stars.

Beyond the women extracting their credit cards, the crowd grew. A radio reporter arrived, testing the microphones, then a TV crew or two.

Suddenly, at the curb, a grey Rolls Royce pulled up. James strode towards it, swinging open the rear passenger door. An elegant woman emerged, statuesque in a tight, green satin dress, and James offered her his arm. They made a striking pair, she so willowy and he so handsome. He escorted her right into the mall, through the throng, towards his House of Diamonds.

“Antoinette!” “Heist!” The crowd called, pressing towards them, posing for selfies. Now Stella remembered where she’d seen the woman’s face. It was on billboards and buses all over town. This was Antoinette Lacy, star of the new film Heist, featuring the theft of a necklace of priceless diamonds.

Stella’s stall was directly between the car and Huntleys.

Antoinette and James oozed glamour as they strode along the mall, her languid arm draped through his. James could be a movie star, too, Stella thought.

What a stunt! Fancy hooking a VIP like Antoinette Lacy for your celebrity endorsement. She’d just won a string of awards. James Huntley had a few connections alright. No wonder he’d wanted her to move. They were walking towards his store. But her stall was right in the way.

Her heart kicked up another notch. Exciting! Stella was as intrigued as the rest of the crowd, their mobile phones up like antennae, the young and the older, curious business people grabbing a coffee, retirees at the edges, and a few others with shopping bags, strollers and toddlers. Two big men in black suits hovered, speaking into their ear pieces.
More reporters and media cameras appeared from nowhere and surged into action, all bent on capturing the smiles and actions of the rich and famous.

Directly before her stall, at the centre of the commotion, James and Antoinette paused. James extracted his arm and reached inside his suit coat. He pulled from his breast pocket something glittering like fire in the bright sunshine – it was the delectable diamond necklace featured in the film. All eyes upon them, James held it high for the cameras, then dribbled it, diamond by diamond, into Antoinette’s elegant hand as cameras whirred, clicked and binged.
It was PR genius, but there was a problem.

“No. No, James. Not there. Here.” A frazzled woman in a tight, mustard yellow suit arrived and tried to encourage the photographers and videographers to take the shot again. This must be Nicole. She saw at once the skirt was awry, Nicole’s mascara was smudged and the asymmetric streaked bob was not sitting quite right. Stella felt for her, remembering a few of her own wardrobe malfunctions from her old corporate life. Antoinette’s earlier than expected arrival must have caught Nicole out. Stella had often been responsible for events in her old job. She could tell this one was kicking off too soon.

Nicole obviously wanted a better angle, with the Huntley’s facade more clearly in the background. In that glaring mustard suit, Nicole pointed and pushed and pulled spectators and camera crews alike, clearing the way and directing them, trying to nuance the shot.

A camera operator backed into Stella’s stall, rocking her trays of necklaces and pendant earrings, which danced like miniature disco balls, dazzling the crowd.

Nicole tried to intervene. Too late.

Antoinette Lacy halted her leggy stride right there at Stella’s stall and was suddenly showing a deep interest, fingering her display of huge faux emerald drop earrings. They were eye catching, suspended within shiny wire secured with one of Stella’s characteristic Celtic knots. As they tumbled inside their tiny silvery cage, they shot out flashes of reflected sunlight, and the camera shutters clamoured in staccato.

“Please, take these,” Stella jerked into action herself. It was PR gold, right here at her humble stall. In a dream, she unpinned the dazzling pair that perfectly matched the green of Antoinette’s satin sheath dress.

As Stella handed them across, the star held them up for the cameras, which clicked again as Antoinette unleashed that famous, winning, movie star smile.

James froze, the priceless diamond necklace dangling from his outstretched hand, ignored.

“This way, Ms Lacy,” a furious Nicole hissed, firmly pulling Antoinette around Stella’s little stall towards Huntleys.

“Our other VIPs are dying to meet you, Ms Lacy. Inside, please. Media, this way!” Nicole’s call was as strained as her voice as she tried to usher reporters inside with the star. “Champagne’s on the third floor. Invitation only.”

The media and best-dressed members of the crowd followed them, but more and more people stopped at Stella’s stall, buying the same earrings Antoinette had admired.

Stella couldn’t trade quickly enough, cash, credit and sparkle trading hands faster than she ever could have imagined. She was elated. Her dream was coming true. Here she was, her own boss, making her living from creating beauty; and the customers just kept coming, spurred on by Antoinette’s star power, clustering, clamouring, all wanting Stellar jewelry.

Only one person seemed unimpressed. Stella glanced up from her customers to meet James’s icy stare. His eyes flashed fury right into hers. He turned on one heel and followed Antoinette and Nicole into his building.

The sun went behind a cloud.

Stella’s phone rang. She tried to ignore it, still trading fast, but there it went again. Jeannie? It was only as a woman with purple hair hesitated, trying to decide between the green earrings and some red ones, that Stella took a moment to answer it.

“OMG, Stella!”

“What is it, Jeannie?”

“OMG!” Her sister, Jeannie, sounded pleased, and Stella relaxed a little.

“Jeannie, I’m flat out here. What is it?”

“Antoinette Lacy! Stella!”

“What?”

“What do you mean, ‘what?’ You’ve done it. You’ve got it. You’ve already got 115 ‘likes.’ No, that’s just gone up. 143. 181. 221. Stella. OMG.”

“Look, I’m super busy here, Jeannie. I’ve got more customers than I can deal with right now. Can we talk later? Would you mind?”

With two children under three and a travelling husband, Jeannie was fond of a chat.

“311. No. Look. Incredible. It’s almost 400 now. This is insane, Stell. We’ve got to get your online purchasing up and running.”

“Thanks, Jeannie. Can you please just go ahead? I trust you. You know that. Go on. Go ahead.”

“Thanks, Stell! Can’t wait.”

Stella closed her eyes in gratitude for her sister, two years older and so generous. Without Jeannie, she simply wouldn’t be here, finally taking this chance on her dream future – to make real money creating her own jewelry. She couldn’t begin to count the ways Jeannie had helped her throughout childhood, and especially now. How many other sole traders had a sister with marketing skills, happy to run their social media and create their website? Stella beamed and held up a finger to two customers waiting to pay. “One moment, please,” she mimed.

“Great. Thanks. Stellar web sales coming up. Sensational, Stell. I knew you could do this!”

“Thanks, thanks. Thanks so much. Bye, Jeannie. Talk later.” Now was no time for a lengthy discussion. Customers were thrusting $50 notes and credit cards at her.

“Got any more of those green ones, the dangly ones?”

“Hey, that’s my pair!”

There was a minor tussle as customers fought over the last pair of green earrings on display. From now on, Stella would call them the “Antoinette earrings.”

She made seven instant friends by pulling out another tray of them. The customers, including the woman with purple hair, bought three pairs each.

“For my nieces. They love Antoinette. I love your stall!”

“Thank you, thank you.”

Stock was flying off the velvet trays. It was a frenzy. Never in her wildest dreams had Stella imagined her new venture would succeed so well. She’d taken a huge risk in setting up her own business, but as Jeannie had convinced her, there’d been a danger in not doing it, too.

She’d needed this fresh start. As the sales kept coming, Stella’s old life in Perth seemed a world away.

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Published on July 02, 2021 19:53

The true story of Bluey

This is a true, good news story from Sydney in lockdown, from a former journalist now dedicated to writing #uplit (uplifting literature).

The adventure happened under my nose, at a corner window of my tiny apartment with a big view, on the edge of Sydney Harbour.

Lorikeets and other wild birds often visit our veranda birdbath, installed during the 2019 bushfires. Bright and brash, they spend their days squawking and screeching as they zoom from tree to tree seeking nectar. (Enjoy this video, but please read on …)

A commotion at a window caught my attention. The scuffling and scratching led me to believe they were building a nest nearby.

But at dusk, they were still at it, and again early next morning. That’s when it dawned on me there was a problem. The sounds weren’t just coming from the birds on the window sill. They were coming from inside the wall, between two layers of bricks, four storeys up!

When I called handyman Bruce Barrett of the Handyman Van, he was keen to help, even though the situation looked hopeless.

“There’s always a way,” said Bruce, who has 12 years in the handyman trade, following earlier careers as a pastry chef, yacht rigger and superyacht crew member. Add to his experience a passion for rock climbing and adventurous travels through Canada, Alaska, South Africa, New Zealand and Europe, and he has picked up plenty of skills.

Bruce Barrett of the Handyman Van

I feared the bird might die of fright from the noise of the power tools, but about half an hour after Bruce started removing an external brick near the window with the help of a small jackhammer, he came to me with a baby lorikeet in his hand.

“I just reached in and pulled it out,” he said. “I was lucky I removed the right brick.”

The chick was offered a dark shoebox, a slice of apple and some water, but it preferred to fly to Bruce’s shoulder, and started preening his beard.

Amazingly, a parent bird returned and fed it, beak to beak, through the partially opened window, before flying away again.

The baby bird stayed resting on Bruce, chirping softly and snoozing until a WIRES volunteer arrived to take it for a vet’s check-up. Bruce refused to accept payment for the rescue.

“It feels good to be able to help wild creatures,” Bruce said. “They’ve got it pretty tough, nesting in buildings instead of tree hollows possibly because of an ever reducing number of mature tree bird real-estate.

“It was amazing to witness the chick and parent reuniting with a much-needed feed and a stern talking to, after being trapped for at least 15 hours.”

How’s that! I’m addicted to uplifting endings, and this one is truth, not fiction! I couldn’t be more grateful to Bruce for his clever approach and the care he took. Now Bruce can add “baby lorikeet rescuer” to his list of successes.

The bird seemed to appreciate how lucky it was. At one stage it actually put its beak in Bruce’s ear and whispered sweet nothings. The rescue is a real feather in Bruce’s handyman cap.

Update: The rescued bird has been dubbed “Bluey” by a WIRES carer who will feed him until it gains another third of its bodyweight, and then reunite him with his parents, who have been keeping an eye out for him. (We think he must have fallen between the walls from a nest in the eaves two storeys up!)

In other news: Thank you for further great feedback about House of Diamonds and House https://amberjakeman.com/books/of Hearts. House of Spades is just about ready to roll, and I’m 50,000 words into House of Clubs due to lockdown.

Best of luck with all your own projects!

Email me at AmberJakemanSydney@gmail.com to share your views.

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Published on June 30, 2021 01:25

#Gratitude for readers, reviewers and interviewers

Turns out writing books is the easy part! Finding readers is the ongoing challenge.

So, to those of you’ve who’ve found time to dive into my books, thank you for taking the plunge! Your feedback has been a joy.

Trusted and cherished beta readers have helped me improve early drafts, and many of you have been generous with your feedback on House of Diamonds and House of Hearts. I’ve included some of your kind comments here. Your enjoyment is my reward!

Thank you to Tony Eames of NFReads for the author interview out of the blue! Read the results.

I particularly appreciated the opportunity to explain how I feel about genre.

I told Tony that while on the surface my books might be classified as romance (on the sweet, clean and wholesome side rather than spicy, steamy or erotic) a number of men who would never voluntarily read romance have described my books as “page turners” and told me they’ve really enjoyed the emotional journey they offer.

I love it that we can break down reader stereotypes in reality in the same ways as we’re broadening character behaviour in fiction, welcoming diversity.

Thank you to Sal for lending fellow writer Jo Jukes and me your coastal hideaway for a recent writers’ retreat.

What a joy it was to lay out the Post-it Notes and plot book four of the House of Jewels series!

Fellow author Emma Lombard, thank you for encouraging me to commit to BookFunnel to arrange giveaways and promote more reviews, to help spread the word about my books.

Thank you to ARR2021 for the opportunity to sign author copies with fellow authors on the Gold Coast in August.

Thank you to all my followers on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram and to those I follow in return.

Thank you to reviewers of my books!

Reviews of House of Diamonds may be left on BookBub, Goodreads, Amazon or anywhere; while reviews of House of Hearts may also be left on BookBub, Goodreads, Amazon or elsewhere.

Happy reading!

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Published on June 10, 2021 22:38

Push, pull and ethics in fiction

Push and pull make for a great love tale.

After all, if the two main characters are strongly attracted to each other and nothing is keeping them apart, there is no story!

Barriers to love may be internal or external, or—for a more richly rewarding reader journey—a combination of both.

When I was writing House of Hearts, bringing my “opposites” (Lisa the serious psychologist and Will the playboy) together was the easy part.

In a previous day job, I’d helped publicise the work of gambling addiction therapists, so I gave Will a mild gambling problem and placed Lisa in the clinic he attended in Las Vegas.

Image courtesy Farrinni

I found a barrier for their budding relationship. The trouble was it was too convincing!

In common with the Australian Psychological Association Code of Ethics, the American Psychological Association stipulates a ban on client and therapist dating for two years, and for good reason. As with many professional relationships, the therapist client power imbalance is extreme, with clients potentially far too vulnerable and open to exploitation.

Handsome Will had his own powers. He was a master of persuasion, especially when it came to women.

But anything goes in fiction, including in romance, a genre both popular and vast—or does it?

My aim is to write believable, “feel-good” and “ethical” fiction at the “clean and wholesome” end of the romance spectrum.

For House of Hearts, to ignore or conveniently reduce the length of the ban was not an option. I had no wish to distort facts nor potentially create harm.

However, I really struggled with how to make Lisa and Will’s relationship both ethical and plausible—so much so that I seriously considered ditching the whole quest.

It was a beta reader who challenged me to stay the course; to stay true to reality and still make the story work, despite Will and Lisa’s sizzling mutual attraction.

Though Lisa was familiar with establishing clear boundaries with her clients and insisting they respect them, when it came to Will, she was astonished to discover herself transgressing.

How did Lisa wield control?

And if Will—famous for fooling around—really wanted Lisa in his life for the long run, Will had to embrace the reality that if he really loved Lisa, he had to respect and protect her career as well.

Would Will comply?

With House of Hearts now complete and out in the world with House of Diamonds, I’m putting finishing touches on House of Spades.

The third book in the House of Jewels series will focus on the push and pull between Flame the drifter and Ross the hermit, who clash before finding common ground in the Byron Bay hinterland.

Thanks again to my VIPs for your interest in my work and wonderful words of encouragement!

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Published on May 22, 2021 18:55

‘Star-crossed’ lovers explored anew

Star-crossed lovers (forbidden love) is a theme as old as Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, yet evergreen, and in House of Hearts, it is explored anew.

Juliet’s balcony courtesy Marcus Ganahl

The relationship between a doctor and patient, or therapist and client, is often bound by rules, be they explicit or unspoken.

How many of us have invited our hairdresser for dinner, for example?

These people may know more about certain aspects of our lives than our friends and families do (such as what shampoo suits us best, to extend the trivial example) while other aspects remain strictly out of bounds.

It doesn’t mean there isn’t sometimes an interest…

Image thanks to Gabriel Brandt

In House of Hearts, set on the edge of Las Vegas, gambling addiction therapist Dr Lisa Bakker, a sweet divorcee, faces off against international playboy Will Huntley. (Will is the younger brother of James Huntley the Third, who met his match in Volume One of my House of Jewels series, House of Diamonds.)

Lisa is bound by the American Psychological Association’s two-year dating ban between clients and therapists, not that she’s interested in Will, however good-looking he might think he is.

Or is she?

House of Hearts is now available via e-book, in paperback in the US, and in paperback in Australia.

Buy House of Hearts ebook Buy House of Hearts paperback (Australia)Buy House of Hearts paperback (USA)

Warmest thanks to my Amber Jakeman VIPs for your interest in my books, your feedback and reviews.

The House of Hearts dedication is …

To all good men.
To those who remind us we always have choices.
To the power of love.

And here’s a taster!

Please enjoy Chapter 1 of House of Hearts!

Lisa patted Rossco’s rough brown fur as he blinked at her and tried to lick her hand.

“See you tonight, old fella,” she said, as she opened her car door and slid in.

“January 4,” said the dashboard calendar. Eighteen months to the day since she’d fled west with just Rossco and a few boxes of possessions. Eighteen months of professional fulfilment. And a ton of personal guilt.

She must phone her parents again, remind them of how happy she was in her new life, how she hadn’t meant to hurt them. She didn’t blame them for what went on between Art and her. What hadn’t gone on, more like it.

Lisa loved this part of her commute. Once she’d left her peaceful Boulder City home and then the outskirts of Vegas, she passed the garish towers of Downtown and slipped into the lower-rise, older blocks, where the 1950s neon signs never failed to cheer her. She congratulated herself once more on her escape, on the fact she’d been able to study while Art had tended the samples in his lab and devoted himself to his research.

She’d finished one degree after another, then found her dream job and perfect career – counselling.

As she pulled into the clinic, Lisa opened her glove compartment and put her name tag in her pocket. It still gave her a thrill.

Dr Lisa Bakker
Group Counsellor and Diversion Therapist.
The Peters Clinic.

She loved to encourage others to better understand themselves and their behaviour, to recognize and act on better choices, to grow and thrive.

With its palm trees and curved, 1930s style white facade, the front of the clinic and health retreat always made her heart lift. She parked next to Dr Peters’ “Reserved” sign.

The receptionist’s parking spot was still vacant, the one dark moment of her morning. At 8.50am, unless Mindy had caught the bus or walked, she’d either be late or absent all day – again. Lisa would have to lodge an official complaint with Dr Peters.

She checked her hair and lipstick in the rear-vision mirror, flicked a dog hair off her slim grey skirt and entered the side door of the counsellors’ suites.

Normally, she loved this part of her day. She’d have a few moments alone in her consulting room to center herself and review her notes, but with Mindy AWOL again, she’d have to sort the clients’ folders herself. She’d end up running behind all day.

And with Dr Peters away in Europe for ten days, she had more appointments than ever. She’d asked her to stand in to welcome a couple of her new clients – the ones who’d join her group sessions later in the day.

She headed into reception, and sure enough, there was no Mindy. Nothing prepared. Lisa reached for the folders just as Dr Peters’ first new client arrived. She glanced at him again. Was there something familiar about him?

He sized her up with a cheeky half-smile. Distractingly good-looking, he wore a tight white t-shirt and faded jeans. Eyes the color of faded denim. Nice teeth, chewing half of his bottom lip. Was he staring at her? At her legs?

Damn Mindy for not being here to do her job! Especially with this extra case load.

Lisa gathered up the folders – in a hurry now – and dropped them. They skidded all over the floor. Disaster.

In a flash, the man was down on his knees, scooping them up.

Thank God. Her skirt was a bit tight for bending over. So, he was a gentleman. Why did that bother her?

“Thank you,” she said, accepting them and disappearing to her room to sort them as quickly as possible. She slipped on her white coat, positioned her name tag, glanced at the front of the top folder, and reappeared in reception.

“Will Huntley, please,” she said. Why was her heart beating so hard? Lisa smoothed her hands down the side of her jacket.

He stood, that grin in place, as if he knew he could make her blush.

“Welcome to The Peters Clinic,” Lisa said. She held out her hand, her smile professional. “I’m Dr Lisa Bakker, part of the team. Dr Peters has asked me to get things started for you. Follow me, please.”
…
On her way home at the end of the day, Lisa called in at the grocery store for fresh vegetables and pasta. Jilly, her old friend from grad school, in town to visit her mother, was coming for dinner and a talkfest.

Wonderful, outspoken Jilly, Jilly who’d told her about Vegas, who’d shared her love of skyrunning with her back in college. Without Jilly, none of her new life would exist, this patch of sunlit color in a universe of gray.

When Jilly arrived, she didn’t waste a minute. She hugged Lisa, dumped her hot-pink handbag on the couch and followed her into the kitchen, where she washed her hands and helped prepare the meal.

“So, Lisa, hooked up lately?”

Good old Jilly, fast and fearless. Love-life front of mind. Maybe growing up with her mother had made her believe it was the only sensible topic of conversation. Scoping stepfathers, matchmaking, how to avoid her mother’s mistakes …

Lisa slid the chopped tomatoes into the steaming sauce as the silence stretched.

“Come on, Lisa,” Jilly said. “You’ve got to get out there. Eighteen months? And we both know it’s been longer than that. Look, Art never even gave you a love-life. If that’s why you left him, maybe you should have just stayed.”

Lisa stared at her old friend. No wonder that tech company had snapped her up for their human resources team. Jilly nipped any nonsense in the bud, called a spade a spade, and she was usually right.

Jilly might be outspoken, but she was also wise. There was always some truth to what she said. Even if Lisa rightly accused Jilly of always having too many boyfriends, it wouldn’t change the fact that Lisa had never had enough.

She’d had a husband, instead – Art. Straight out of school. And how was she to have guessed that a fine family friend wasn’t necessarily good husband material? He’d been as disappointed with her as she’d been with him, no doubt, not that they’d ever spoken about that. In their eight years together, they hadn’t spoken about much at all.

Lisa sighed and twisted open the lid of a jar of tomato paste, then dumped the contents in the frypan.

“I don’t know,” she said. “There isn’t much time for romance, Jilly. I work flat out on with people all day, and when I come home, I go for a run and then I’m tired. Besides, Rossco gives me all the love I need right now.”

“Evidently. But I didn’t mean ‘love.’ I actually meant ‘sex.’ How’s your sex life?”

“Not everyone requires hot, uninhibited sex every night, Jilly.”

“Okay, but no sex? None at all? You don’t realize what you’re missing. It’s not natural. Physician, heal thyself.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Lisa said, hiding her face in the cutlery drawer, clattering and jangling as she searched for matching forks. It had been a while. Maybe since never, if she was honest. Had she ever had proper sex, sex you read about and heard about where your lover knows what they’re doing and cherishes every part of you and you’re both in ecstasy? Had she ever experienced sex beyond the rapid, embarrassed fumbling in the dark which Art had attempted? Sex with Art had never improved, no matter how much she read up on what should be happening. In the end it had been easier just to avoid it all.

“It doesn’t have to be about sex, even,” said Jilly, picking up on Lisa’s hesitation. “How about a simple date? Just one. Give yourself a chance. You know, we’re both twenty-eight. In fact, I’m willing to bet you’ve never been on a date. I just worked it out, Lisa! You married that old creep straight out of school.”

“Jilly!”

As the high school principal’s only child in a conservative small town, Lisa might as well have had “do not touch” tattooed on her forehead. Marrying Art straight after her high school graduation seemed the perfect solution at the time.

Born shy, with parents who wanted to protect her from the evils of the world, she’d grown up with fairy tales and books as her best friends, only to discover that “happy ever after” didn’t necessarily follow the white wedding.

Tertiary education broadened her mind and gave her the qualifications to make her own way professionally and financially. But it wasn’t possible to study “Perfect Relationship 101” or even “Elementary Dating.” Well, sure, eventually she learned about the Gottman Institute, but she’d committed to addiction therapy as her specialty by then, and her own love-life had never been a priority.

“Okay,” said Jilly. “All that’s in the past. You escaped. All I’m trying to tell you is that the sky won’t fall in if you go on a date or three. It’s not like you have to go out there and match up with Dream Lover or Mr Right straight away.”

Jilly helped herself to a stray piece of uncooked pasta and crunched on it.

“It’s just about having fun,” Jilly said. “Playing the field. Call it what you want. It’s all very cosy here. Now don’t get me wrong. I love the way you’ve decorated this place.” She waved her hand at Lisa’s blue-and-white kitchen. “And I couldn’t be happier that your career’s going so well. You’ve got a great job, by all accounts, and we all love Rossco, though he does need a bath, just between you and me…”

Lisa inspected the pasta and dumped it in the colander, steam rising in a cloud around her. Now her cheeks were pink for two reasons.

“Fun,” Lisa said. “Yeah, dating. I get it. I’ll think about it. Now, what about you, Jilly? Been on any dates? Had a night at home lately? That’d be new and different. I suspect you enjoy enough excitement for the two of us.” She selected two big bowls from her wooden dresser.

“In fact, Jilly, here’s a challenge. I’m willing to bet you’ve never been on an actual date, either. You just have to meet a man and he falls for you. They’re all putty in your hands. I’ve known you for seven years, and in all that time you’ve never once been on your own. Men adore you.”

Lisa pointed at her friend with the cutlery she’d selected. “One smile and they’re yours,” Lisa said. “It’s different for me. Men don’t go for me. Maybe they worry I’m analysing them all the time. Maybe I am!”

“Lisa, you’re gorgeous! You might be the world’s best addiction therapist, but you don’t even notice when men find you attractive. You’re a beautiful human being.”

“That’s so lovely of you to say, but not everyone wants to date a giant.”

“You are not a giant. Okay, you’re tall. So? Models are tall. You know what? I’m willing to bet that if a man looked at you like he wanted you, you wouldn’t even notice. Open your eyes. Let yourself thaw out a bit. You’re a long way from that conservative home town now.”

“Maybe.” Often it was easiest just to agree with Jilly. “So come on, how’s your new job? Your mom must love it now you’re only one state away. I love it. Thanks for the visit.”
…
Lisa brushed her hair as she got ready for bed. Had Jilly been right? There was no way Lisa wanted a life like Jilly’s. But a little bit of fun wouldn’t go astray, now that everything else was so stable in her life. The thought scared her. But did she really want to hide away forever?

And that bit about her not even realizing guys found her attractive? Maybe Jilly was right about that, too. Only that morning, there’d been that new client, Will Huntley, the handsome Australian.

The way he’d scooped up those folders and handed them over. Chivalrous. Had he been giving her the eye? Had he been thinking of her in that way?

Brush mid-air, she stopped and studied herself in the mirror – caught herself smiling. Because he really had been looking at her. At her ankles, and then into her eyes, for just a second too long. Long enough to notice her blush.

She put down the brush and stared into her own eyes. Jilly was right. She was tall but she wasn’t exactly ugly. Why did the thought he might find her attractive please her so much? Because it did. A sudden thrill gave her cheeks a fresh, healthier glow, and her eyes sparkled.

And then in her consulting room, he’d been embarrassed to have mistaken her for the receptionist. She laughed, remembering how he’d done a double-take.

Earlier, in reception, he’d been so self-assured with her, so at ease in his own body. Arrogant, in a casual way. Lean and effortlessly handsome in that t-shirt, which sat tight over his pecs and biceps. Show-off.

She grabbed the brush again and swept it through her hair, finished the job, threw it on the dressing table, and jumped into bed.

In fact, for Will Huntley, being so handsome was a big part of his problem. Everything came too easily for people like that, and when the going got tough, they were lost, with alcohol and gambling a major temptation. It was why they ended up coming to therapists like her.

Lisa turned over and plumped her pillow. Well. Jilly might be sad to hear it, but there was no risk she’d ever get involved with Will Huntley. Bad-boy Will was strictly off limits. She was a professional. No clinic client could ever be dating material.

Her job was to focus on their minds and their behavior, not their bodies. Though his body had, in fact, been spectacularly distracting. And his eyes. They’d been so curious, so alive. And his smile. It seemed genuine. He’d laughed at his mistake about her role. She liked that in a person; a sense of humor.

And then he’d had the grace to admit he hadn’t been looking forward to the treatment. That he’d actually only agreed to it because of the food at the retreat, not because of the clinic’s reputation for helping people stop gambling. Cheeky.

So yes, he did have some appealing qualities, but that was literally no business of hers. Completely irrelevant.

Dating someone like Will Huntley would be ridiculous. Not only was he an addict, he was a client. So, even if they were attracted to each other, the American Psychological Society code of conduct forbade such relationships for two years after therapy ended. There. It was utterly impossible. Easy. She was a good girl. Professional. She’d never broken a rule in her life.

Rossco whined and nudged her knee, desperate for a last pat before he settled in his basket. She tickled his ears and had his tail wagging in no time, thumping against the side of the bed. She and Rossco were happy. Happy enough. Well, maybe she should take a risk now and then. Okay. Maybe one date. With somebody. One day.

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Published on May 06, 2021 05:28

‘Forbidden’ love explored anew

Forbidden love is a theme as old as Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, yet evergreen, and in House of Hearts, it is explored anew.