Nobody But Him Read online

  Nobody But Him

  Victoria Purman

  About the Author

  When Victoria Purman woke up one day and realised she’d spent most of her working life writing for other people, she decided it was finally time to tell stories of her own. She’s worked as a speech-writer, a television and radio journalist, a public servant, a publicist, a communications consultant and a political adviser. Not to mention mum, chef, taxi driver, volunteer and problem-solver. She now very much enjoys creating dialogue and happy-ever-afters for her imaginary characters. Her Boys of Summer trilogy is set on the south coast of her home state of South Australia, somewhere she feels compelled to do a lot of research. When she’s not writing, Victoria spends time with her husband, three sons, a disobedient dog, her loving, extended family and dear friends. She is still determined to learn how to surf.

  Acknowledgements

  Not only does it take a village to raise a child, it takes one to write a book.

  Sure, I did the typing and was forced to stare at pictures of

  handsome men all in the name of research, but I feel as if I’ve had a whole mountain of people holding my hand along the way.

  To all the amazing friends with whom my family has shared good times, million dollar days and wine down on the Fleurieu Peninsula, especially Peter and Debbie Oag. Here’s to many more glasses of champagne on the beach at sunset.

  To my partner-in-writing Jessie Byrne. Thank you for your honesty, encouragement and friendship, but especially for the laughs.

  To the Australian romance writing community and the many new friends I’ve made. What unconditional support and encouragement I’ve received from you all.

  To my number one fan Emma Purman, and to my mother-in-law Vilma Halliday for your friendship and shared love of books.

  To my editor Jody Lee. You made this first-time experience way less nerve-wracking than I thought it would be. I’ll always remember your words of encouragement and thank you so much for waving your magic wand over the manuscript.

  To Ethan, Ned and Clancy. For putting up with me when I’m grumpy. For the title suggestions (that’s you, Clancy) and for your love, hugs and jokes. Guys, I hope Mum’s adventure has inspired you to find out what you really love and go for it.

  To my husband Stephen. Over the years, whenever I’ve lamented, “Why isn’t my book on the shelves?” he would always reply, “Because you haven’t written it yet, honey.” You were right. So I did! Thank you for the gift of time that you’ve given me to pursue this dream.

  Finally, I’d like to sincerely thank Haylee Nash, Cristina Lee and Lilia Kanna from Harlequin Australia for loving this book and wanting more. I’m sure you’ve all heard it more than once, but you can’t know how much that meant to me. Thank you for welcoming me to the Harlequin family.

  Dear Reader

  Who hasn’t harboured a secret fantasy about running away from it all to a sleepy beachside town, where summers never end and the coastal air blows the cobwebs from your mind, taking the stress and problems of city life with it? The fresh air, the long walks, the sun, the relaxed mood, that feeling that you’re on holidays all year round?

  What’s not to love!

  That’s something I wanted to explore in Nobody But Him. My characters are at a point in their lives where they have to make some big decisions about who they want to be, where they want to live and whether they’ll open their hearts to love.

  My fictional town of Middle Point is set on the very real and stunning coastline of South Australia’s Fleurieu Peninsula. It’s a place I know and adore and I hope I’ve captured just what makes it so special. As you turn the pages and get to know my characters, I hope you’ll let yourself be whisked away to the beach, smell the salt in the air and feel the warming sun on your face.

  This is the first book in my Boys of Summer trilogy and I hope you’ll enjoy the first story of Ry and Julia, who meet for the first time in fifteen years back in the place they found love one summer.

  I may be a writer, but I’m also a reader, and I know how hard it can be to find some precious time to escape into reading, so thank you from the bottom of my heart for choosing Nobody But Him. The fact that you are holding a book in your hands with my name on the cover is still a miracle to me. The fact that you want to read it? A double bonus!

  I would love to hear from readers so please find me at www.victoriapurman.com, on facebook at Victoria Purman Author or on twitter @VictoriaPurman.

  Happy reading!

  Victoria

  To my mum Emma Purman who, if it’s possible, is more excited

  about this book than I am.

  Contents

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  CHAPTER

  1

  ‘Excuse me waitress!’

  Caught between two dining chairs with a tray of half-empty glasses perched precariously in the air, Julia Jones stopped, drew in a breath and rolled her eyes towards the ceiling. Honest to God, I might be new at this hospitality game, but if I hear that one more time. She had a vision of tipping the slurry of warm beer all over the patron’s designer-denim-clad arse.

  Instead, Julia caught her temper in her throat, created a sickly smile and turned.

  ‘I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting.’

  One look at the table of diners in front of her had her stifling a giggle. They appeared to have stepped straight out of the pages of Country Life magazine. There was lots of tweed and corduroy and was she imagining it, or was that a designer trench coat draped on the back of an empty chair? She knew their type instinctively. Adelaide people, down in the South Australian coastal town of Middle Point for the weekend, who figured a trip out of the capital meant they had to dress for the part. Unfortunately for them, they got the wrong memo.

  This was the beach, not the country. Julia knew their wallets would be bulging from trust funds and successful jobs. Not that she was into crass generalisations or anything. They just saved time.

  Scanning the table she wondered which of the women sitting there had called her waitress. She figured it was the younger of the two, natural blonde hair, of course, pert, pretty, privileged, perfectly symmetrical features. The Princess.

  Julia hardened her smile. ‘I’ll just take these empties back to the bar and I’ll be right with you.’ She bumped her way from chair to chair through the crowded Saturday night dining room, taking care to steady her tray as she went. The happy and relaxed conversations of the other diners in the century old pub weren’t enough to drown out the hoity-toity complaints from what looked like Lord and Lady Muck and The Princess.

  ‘Can you believe the service here? That waitress was positively rude. Mum, did you see the look on her face?’

  Julia could hear The Princess winding up for a full display of outraged condescension but gritted her teeth and kept walking. Blowing badly behaved tendrils of curly brown hair fro
m her eyes, she approached the bar, behind which stood her best and oldest childhood friend Lizzie Blake, pouring a round of drinks.

  Lizzie’s wry smile revealed she’d heard everything. ‘Don’t let ’em get to you, Jools.’ Lizzie reached behind her for a chilled bottle of water. ‘You’re doing a brilliant job.’ Lizzie threw her a huge grin and a dramatic wink and handed her the tray of drinks she’d just prepared. ‘Here. Back you go.’

  Julia narrowed her eyes and leaned on the bar. ‘This is all your fault, you know.’

  ‘I know, I know, you are doing me a massive favour. If my regular waitress hadn’t come down with the worst flu of all time,’ Lizzie mimed quote marks in the air, ‘I wouldn’t have begged you for help.’

  ‘If you weren’t my BFF, there’s no way I would’ve taken this gig serving drinks and food, however delicious, to wankers like the people at table thirteen.’

  ‘I owe you, Julia. Big time, obviously. What say I cook good old spaghetti bolognese tomorrow night? Would that make it up to you?’

  ‘You’re playing dirty now.’ Julia managed a smile but couldn’t hide the tears welling in her eyes at the mention of her mother’s favourite recipe. She reached across to squeeze Lizzie’s hand. Lizzie squeezed hers right back.

  ‘Give me those drinks, you slave-driver.’

  ‘You know how grateful I am for this, Jools. You’ve got me out of a really tight spot.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah.’ Julia arched her eyebrows and smiled as she picked up the tray. ‘And I promise to be super careful so I don’t accidently drop them all in the lap of that pretty young thing over there.’

  ‘Good girl,’ Lizzie smiled in reply and hurried off to take orders.

  The beachside pub was really humming. The winter long weekend had brought more people than usual to the town, everyone relishing the chance of an extra night away from suburbia to relax and take in the sea air. Half the tables were filled with local families in their jeans and warm jumpers, corralling their boisterous children. The regulars propped up the bar, their glasses leaving watery rings on the counter like signatures, while the weekend visitors dominated the end of the dining room closer to the fireplace. Julia took a second to glance around before asking herself for the tenth time: what the hell am I doing here?

  Two weeks before she’d been sitting in a stylish and dimly lit bistro in Melbourne with her work colleagues, drinking the finest Australian wine. Now she was serving it to the sort of people who’d made her life hell as a teenager in this town. People exactly like Lord and Lady Muck and their Princess, city people with enough spare cash for a holiday home and a couple of European cars. People who were increasingly snatching up every spare piece of land in the beachside strip, sucking up all the nice weather and the good times and fun on holidays and weekends, then leaving when the season turned. She’d spent every summer trying to avoid people like them. And now, here she was, their maidservant. She couldn’t deny that it grated. Big time.

  Julia glanced down at her prim white shirt, the boring knee-length black skirt, her black-stockinged legs and sensible black flatties. Black had always been her signature colour. It was soMelbourne. It was so not Middle Point.

  A cackle of laughter pulled her out of herself and snatches of conversation floated above the crowd to her as she made her way back to table thirteen.

  ‘Country service, honestly.’ The Princess’s voice was like fingernails down a blackboard. ‘I knew we should have gone into Victor Harbor.’

  So why didn’t you? Julia said under her breath as she gripped the tray.

  ‘Really, Amanda, that’s enough.’

  What was that? A male voice, a deep, interesting, admonishing male voice cut right through the complaining. Julia’s ears pricked up. Sexy guy, she decided. She manoeuvred to the table and tried to find the possessor of that growl. One look at Lord Muck, with his tan corduroy jacket complete with professorial leather elbow patches, enormous grey eyebrows and sagging cheeks, and she decided it couldn’t be him.

  There was another option to choose from. Mmm, maybe this guy? A very tall, very broad-shouldered man had moved in front of her and was heading back to his seat. Julia craned her neck to take in his full height, then let her eyes wander down the strong planes of his back, which was barely disguised under a fine knit black jumper. And, oh yes, there was a tight arse and long, long legs covered in dark denim. Eye candy. At last, she thought, and she let herself enjoy the view for a moment longer. Whoever he was, he was a way better alternative than most of the other blokes in the bar; the check-shirted, baseball-capped locals.

  Julia heard another harrumph of annoyance from the table and she snapped out of the perve fest real fast. Her defiance meter cranked up and, on a scale of one to ten, she was going Spinal Tap: the full eleven.

  ‘So sorry to keep you waiting, ladies and gentlemen.’ With perhaps a little too much ironic emphasis on the ladies and gentlemen, and maybe a tad excessive in the fake English accent department, Julia lowered the tray onto the edge of the table, using her butt to wedge herself between the two women.

  ‘So, what do we have here? Champagne for the ladies? Our very best Australian bubbles for you both, none of that inferior French plonk.’ She placed the flutes carefully on the table and noticed The Princess was wide-eyed and red-cheeked. Julia hoped it was from embarrassment.

  ‘And now.’ She reached for one of the tumblers on her tray. ‘Aged Scotch whisky on ice. For this discerning gentlemen, I presume?’ Lord Muck smiled hesitantly at Julia and raised his finger in the air to indicate his choice. She gently placed it on the table and the ice cubes clinked together with a tinkle.

  ‘And finally, a soda water for the non-drinker — or tonight’s exceedingly generous designated driver.’

  Julia took a couple of shimmying steps to reach the other end of the table and found great delight in focusing her gaze on the women, making sure they got every not-so-subtle nuance of her derision.

  ‘Well, congratulations to you, sir, for ensuring your friends get home safely. What a magnanimous gesture.’ She lifted the glass from her tray, condensation already making it a little slippery. ‘My name is waitress and if you need anything else, just whistle. You know how to do that, don’t you?’ She winked at the older man. ‘You just put your lips together and blow.’

  Finally Julia turned her attention to Sexy Guy, who was about to sit down. He didn’t react, glancing down as he pulled his chair closer to the table. Once he’d sat down, he leaned back and looked up into her eyes.

  A shock of recognition hit her like a wave.

  A cold shiver iced its way up her spine, lodging in her throat and a bizarre buzzing in her ears suddenly blocked out all the bustling, happy sounds of the pub. It seemed like forever before she realised she’d actually forgotten to breathe.

  Dirty blonde hair, short and ruffled. A tanned face. A strong jaw shaded with growth, hiding the small scar on his left cheek she knew to be there. And the sapphire blue eyes that had once buckled her knees.

  The switch was imperceptible to anyone else at the table, but his expression transformed in a blink from smiling to steely. His full lips drew together and disappeared into a tight scowl.

  All Julia’s Melbourne bravado drained away and pooled in her feet like she was wearing big cement boots.

  ‘Ry.’ It came out before she could think, softer and breathier than she would have liked.

  ‘Thanks for the drink,’ he replied, his voice gravel. He averted his eyes and studied the menu with intense concentration.

  Julia shakily placed his drink on the table before him, spilling it so a dribble of soda water wet her fingers. If he noticed, he didn’t look up as she walked with trembling knees back to the bar.

  ‘Ryan?’ Amanda’s perfectly French-manicured hand on his arm was insistent and he shook it off. He raked his fingers through his hair and felt a familiar ache in his jaw. ‘How do you know that awful waitress?’

  Her carefully enunciated vowels hit him like a cold
shower.

  ‘Excuse me.’ Ry pushed back his chair, stood to his full, imposing height and scanned the room. As he headed towards the bar, manoeuvring in and around the crowded tables, he realised she’d disappeared. He swore under his breath, realising he had no clue what he would have said to her if he’d found her.

  At the bar, Lizzie had her hand on the beer tap, expertly filling a glass with pale ale.

  She lifted her head. ‘Another drink?’

  ‘No. No, thank you.’ Ry hesitated. Rubbed his jaw to release the tension. ‘That new waitress who just served my table, the one with the chestnut hair, curly, about this tall?’ He held up a flat palm to his shoulder.

  Lizzie bit her lip and shrugged. ‘I’m sorry, Ry, I didn’t have time to tell you. You know our young waitress, Kimberley, with the pierced eyebrow and the pink hair? She called in sick at the last minute and Julia’s done me a huge favour by covering her shift tonight. You know Saturday night is our busiest, right?’

  ‘It doesn’t take a degree in hotel management to know that Saturday night is busy in a pub, Lizzie,’ he replied, his mouth a grimace. Then he paused, shaking his head a little. ‘Wait a minute … how the hell do you know her?’

  Lizzie put the beer on the bar, before staring back at him like he was crazy. ‘She’s my best friend. She’s saved our bacon tonight.’

  Ry could see the question in Lizzie’s eyes but he wasn’t about to give her any explanation.

  She hesitated before asking, ‘Why, do you want her number or something?’

  ‘Shit no,’ he said quickly, adamantly. Not in a million years.

  ‘Don’t tell me she misbehaved.’

  ‘No, she didn’t misbehave.’ In fact, Ry thought, he might have acted in exactly the same way if he’d worn the brunt of the sly digs and rudeness from his table. But there was only one thing to do. No question.

  He squared his shoulders and looked Lizzie in the eye. ‘Pay her what she’s earned and some extra for her inconvenience but I don’t want her back here.’