Читать книгу Maids Under The Mistletoe Collection - Christy McKellen - Страница 17
ОглавлениеTO HER DISAPPOINTMENT, Emma didn’t see much of Jack over the next ten days. For the first couple of them his work took him into his office in the City at a totally unreasonable hour in the morning and kept him there until well after Emma had dragged herself to bed in the evenings. Though to be fair, she was crashing out early after long, intense days of researching and planning the new design scheme for the downstairs of the house.
On the odd occasion when she did see him their conversations were stilted and tended to focus on the practicalities of living together, with him excusing himself before she had chance to ask him anything of a personal nature.
Seeing the place in total disarray on Friday night when he returned from work, Jack had then suddenly announced he was flying off to Italy for a few days to meet with a business acquaintance, though she suspected he was deliberately making himself scarce—partly to avoid having to live in what felt very much like a building site, but mostly to avoid having to be around her all weekend.
This thought made her stomach twist with a mixture of sadness and dejection. She’d really hoped that her confession in the pub garden would bring them closer, but instead it seemed to have driven even more of a wedge between them, crushing any hope she’d once had of a reconciliation.
So it was actually a relief in a way to have this huge project to take her mind off things.
With the contacts that she and her friends from the agency had managed to scrape together between them, she’d hired a talented, hard-working team and less than two weeks on she barely recognised the place. Luckily it had only needed cosmetic changes—though old, the house had been kept in good condition—and they’d been achieved with the minimum of fuss.
She’d not had so much fun at work in a very long time.
The new furniture was sourced from a couple of funky little independent shops on Columbia Road, which suited the brighter, more contemporary palette of colours she’d chosen for the walls and flooring. While it wasn’t up to Daphne’s standards of wow factor, she was delighted with the end result.
It was a much more relaxing, comfortable place to hang out in now.
When Jack returned a couple of days before they were due to do the interview with Perdita she stood nervously in the living room with him, crossing her fingers as he stared around him with an expression of pure amazement on his face.
‘Well, Em, I think you’ve found your calling. This is fantastic!’ he said finally, turning to give her a wide, genuine smile.
Her heart lurched at the sight of his pleasure, the tension in her shoulders fading away.
‘Not a woodchip to be seen,’ she joked, feeling her tummy flip when he grinned back at her.
‘You’ve done an amazing job, thank you,’ he said, walking over to where she stood.
Seeing him here again, with his hair dishevelled and dark smudges under his eyes, had sent her senses into overdrive and she was having a hard time keeping her nerves under wraps.
‘I’m glad you like it. I had a real blast working on it,’ she said, having to force herself to maintain eye contact so he wouldn’t see how jittery she was feeling in his charismatic presence.
‘I can tell. It shows,’ he said, looking at her with a strange expression now. Was that pride she could see in his eyes?
Prickly heat rushed over her skin as they both stared at each other for a long, tension-filled moment.
Jack broke the atmosphere by clearing his throat. ‘Well, I’m going to go and check in with the US office then head off to bed,’ he said, running a hand over his tousled hair. He looked so exhausted she had a mad urge to spring into full-on wife mode and start fussing around him, telling him not to bother with work, but to go straight to bed and get some rest.
She didn’t though.
Because she knew that it wasn’t her place to do that. She was only his wife in name after all.
Sadness swamped her as she accepted the painful reality that she’d forfeited the right to have a say in how he lived his life six years ago.
He wasn’t hers to care for any more.
* * *
The next morning, just one day before Perdita and her crew were due to sweep in and dissect their lives for the entertainment of the general public like some kind of twisted anthropology project, she was surprised to see Jack striding into the kitchen at nine o’clock in the morning.
She was in the process of stuffing her mouth with a croissant she’d rewarded herself with for all her hard work over the last few days, so it took her a moment to comment on his remarkable appearance.
‘What are you doing here?’ she muttered through a mouthful of buttery pastry, her heart racing at the sight of him looking all fresh and clean from the shower and, oh, so strikingly handsome in a dark grey, sharply tailored Italian suit.
‘I happen to live here,’ he replied, with one eyebrow raised.
‘I know that. I’m just surprised to see you here so late in the day. You’ve always been up and out with the lark before now.’
‘Some of us don’t have the good fortune of having regular lie-ins,’ he said, the twinkle in his eye letting her know he was only teasing her.
She turned back to her plate and chewed the last of the croissant hard, feeling heat rise to her cheeks. She hadn’t even brushed her hair this morning and was still in her scruffy old brushed-cotton pyjamas, assuming he’d already left for the office when she’d got up to a quiet house.
Hearing the kettle begin to boil, she turned to look towards where he now stood, dropping a teabag into a mug. The ends of his hair were curling around the collar of his pristine white shirt and without thinking she said, ‘You need a haircut.’
Swivelling to face her, he shot her an amused grin. ‘Are you nagging me, wife?’
The heat in her cheeks increased. ‘No!’ She cleared her throat, distracted by the sudden lump she found there. ‘I don’t know why I said that. I just noticed, that’s all.’
Turning back to her croissant again, she tried to ignore his rueful chuckle and the clinking and clanking noises as he made his breakfast. Grace and economy of movement had never been his more dominant traits.
He sat down opposite her, bringing with him his fresh, clean scent, and her stomach did a little dance.
Trying to smooth out some of the tangles in her hair, she gave him a sheepish smile.
Not that she should worry about what Jack thought of her looking such a mess. He’d always liked seeing her in disarray and had often commented on how sexy he found it after they’d made love in the good old days.
The rogue memory of it only made her face flame even hotter.
‘How come you’re not in the office already?’ she asked, concentrating on brushing her fingers together to knock off the remaining flaky crumbs so she didn’t have to look him in the eye.
‘I have a meeting in Chelsea at nine-thirty so I’m having a slow start to the morning for once.’ He shifted in his chair so he could pick up his mug of tea and take a swig from it, peering at her from over the top of the rim.
‘And I have a favour to ask of you,’ he said, once he’d had a good swallow of tea.
She looked at him in surprise. ‘A favour?’
‘Yes.’
‘What is it?’
He shifted in his chair again, only this time looking a little discomfited.
‘We’ve been invited to a party tonight, by a business acquaintance of mine. I could do with turning up and doing some schmoozing. The guy might be interested in having me buy out his company and I wanted to work on him in a more relaxed environment.’
‘Okay,’ she said slowly, her pulse picking up at the thought of spending the evening at his side. ‘This is tonight, did you say?’
‘Yes. It’s in a house a couple of streets away.’
‘And you want me to go with you as your wife?’ Saying the words made her ache a little inside.
‘You’ve got it in one.’ He flashed her a grin, which she struggled to return.
Splaying his hands on the table, he looked her directly in the eye now. ‘Look, I know it’s probably the last thing you feel like doing, what with our lives and relationship being so complicated at the moment, but I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t really important.’
She glanced down at the table where his hands still lay spread on the solid oak top, her eyes snagging on the second finger of his left hand as she noticed something glinting there.
He was wearing his wedding ring.
Her blood began to pound through her veins. Even though she knew it was all for show, the sight of the gold ring that she’d touched with such wonder and awe after she’d slid it onto his finger at their simple wedding ceremony, back there on his finger, made her body buzz with elation.
‘Yes, okay, I’ll go,’ she blurted, buoyed by the fact that he’d asked for her help. She would happily do whatever it took to make things easier between them. She owed him that. And she’d missed him while he’d been away and liked the idea of spending time with him this evening.
His look of gratified surprise made her think he’d been expecting her to refuse.
‘Thank you, Emma, I really appreciate it.’
‘You’re welcome.’
His full mouth widened into a smile, the lines at the corners of his eyes deepening, reviving the look of boyish charm that had swept her off her feet all those years ago, stealing her breath away.
She loved his face, especially when he let down that façade of cool that he wore for the rest of the world. It had taken a long time for him to trust her enough to let her see the real him, but when he had it had blown her away.
Was this the Jack she used to know finally peering out at her?
They stared at each other for another long, painful moment, where her traitorous brain decided to give her a Technicolor recap of the most blissful moments from their past, until she finally managed to tear her gaze away from his and stand up.
‘What time do we need to get there?’ she asked, making a big show of pushing her chair neatly under the table so she didn’t have to look at him again in case her apprehension was written all over her face. She needed to remember that this was just a business arrangement to him, not a date.
‘We’ll leave here at eight-thirty. It’s a formal do, so if you have a little black dress or something it would be great if you could wear it.’
His voice sounded strained now and she wondered wistfully whether she’d somehow infected him with her own feelings of poignant nostalgia.
‘No problem,’ she said, turning and walking away from him before she blurted out something she might regret later.
* * *
The party was in full swing when they arrived and Emma was surprised, but delighted, when Jack kept hold of her arm after helping her climb the smooth slate steps up to the house in her sky-high heels. He’d been very complimentary about how she looked this evening, and she’d had to forcefully remind herself that his noticing how she looked probably didn’t mean the same thing to him as it did to her.
After greeting their hosts, they walked into the living room to mingle with the rest of the partygoers and he turned to give her a reassuring smile as she tightened her grip on him, feeling a little overawed at being a guest at a party like this again.
‘Just relax, it’s a friendly crowd,’ he told her.
But unfortunately he couldn’t have been more wrong.
‘Oh, no!’ she whispered, coming to a halt in the middle of the room as a horrible thump of recognition hit her in the chest at the sight of a group of people standing next to the large picture window.
Angry resentment rattled through her as she relived the whispered taunts and cruel asides she’d been the victim to from this very group of people after the scandalous news about her father came out.
‘Vultures,’ she whispered to Jack, ‘who used to call themselves friends of my family, until they called in their loans and sold us out to the press.’
Looking up into his handsome face, she was a little afraid of what she might see there. Would he be sorry now that he’d brought her here tonight?
But instead of showing concern, his eyes darkened with anger. ‘No one here will dare say a word to you, I promise you that,’ he growled, putting her in mind of a wild animal defending its territory. ‘If anyone so much as smirks in your general direction I’ll make sure they regret it.’
Her heart leapt at his show of protectiveness, but she knew she couldn’t really expect him to step in for her; this was her problem to deal with, not his. ‘As heartening as this display of macho chest-beating is, I can’t expect you to hang around by my side all night, ready to jump in and defend my honour,’ she joked, trying to lighten the atmosphere. She didn’t want this to have any kind of impact on his business deal.
‘Yes, you can, Em. You’re my wife and I’m staying right here next to you.’
The resolve in his eyes gave her goose bumps. She knew he meant every word he said—could feel it in the crackling atmosphere around him. He would look after her tonight, if she needed him to.
‘Emma, look at me,’ he said quietly, cupping her jaw in his hands and drawing her closer to him so she was forced to look him in the eye, her pulse playing a merry beat in her throat.
‘You’re the bravest person I know,’ he said. ‘You didn’t slink away and give up when everything went to hell for you and I know you won’t give these idiots the satisfaction of breaking you tonight either. This is an opportunity for you to show them just how incredibly strong you are and how much you’ve achieved despite the cards being stacked against you. You should be proud of yourself. I’m proud of you. Proud to call you my wife.’
The air beat a pulse between them, as she rolled his pep talk around in her mind. He was proud of her? Proud to be her husband? Hearing those words suddenly made her anger at the people here fade into the background. She could handle anything they said to her if she truly had Jack on her side. There wasn’t anything they could do to hurt her any more.
Buoyed by that uplifting insight, she gave Jack a grateful nod and a smile.
‘It means a lot to me to hear you say that, Jack.’ She turned and took his arm again, wrapping her fingers tightly around his biceps, feeling him pull her more tightly against his body.
To her surprise, Jack then marched them straight up to the group, who were staring at them with a kind of cynical fascination.
‘Do you have something you’d like to say to my wife?’ Jack growled at them and she was both astonished and amused to see them all take a small step backwards and shake their heads as one.
‘We were just saying what an impressive couple you make,’ a red-faced man who used to go out shooting with her father said in a faltering voice. ‘And that you’re a very lucky man to have such a beautiful wife, Westwood.’
The whole group nodded in agreement, but Jack didn’t move away from them, giving every last one of them that unnerving weighted stare that Emma knew from first-hand experience he was so good at employing.
‘And that we’re sorry we weren’t more supportive about your situation after your father died, Emma,’ a tall, moustached man with a slight stoop said hurriedly. ‘It’s good to see that you’re happy and settled now though,’ he added.
Emma coolly nodded her thanks, knowing he didn’t mean a word of it.
Not that she cared one jot.
‘It’s all water under the bridge,’ she said, smiling serenely to show them just how little they meant to her now.
After that, they strode confidently around the room, arm in arm in a show of solidarity, with Jack loudly and proudly introducing her to everyone as his wife, and her floating around on a cloud of happy contentment.
* * *
Jack’s gaze followed Emma as she walked back towards him after getting her glass refilled at the makeshift bar that Rob, a prospective business partner, had set up in the corner of his grand living room.
She really was breathtaking to behold. Her head was held high and her body language confident, showcasing the natural elegance and poise he admired so much in her.
Emma had been brilliant with Rob, laughing at his jokes and showing interest in his tales of his children and their schooling. She’d asked him intelligent questions and had clearly listened to the answers because she was able to comment on them with thoughtful insight. Even Rob’s wife was charmed by her, which was an unexpected bonus. The woman was known for being standoffish with the wives of her husband’s business acquaintances, but Emma had managed to break through her wall of cool and engage her in a conversation about interior design and the woman had even gone so far as to give Emma a quick tour of their newly decorated bedrooms.
He’d been intrigued to see how genuinely interested Emma was in talking about the redecoration she’d done to his house. Considering how little time she’d had to get it done, he was hugely impressed by what she’d achieved. And she really seemed to have enjoyed it too, judging by the gleam in her eye and the flush in her cheeks when they’d looked over the improvements together.
It seemed she was a natural.
And far too talented to be wasting her time serving drinks at parties.
He ran a hand over his hair, watching with a growing sense of impatience as she stopped to talk to a woman who pointed at the dress she was wearing and gave her a complimentary smile.
Even though he’d been flat out with work, he’d not been able to keep his mind off the knowledge that she’d be there in his house when he got home each evening—and, even more frustratingly, that he wouldn’t be returning to one of her beguiling smiles and her soothing embrace.
After having time away from her for the last week or so, which had given him more of a chance to ruminate on what she’d revealed after they’d visited his parents’ house, he realised that her heartfelt admission seemed to have broken the evil spell his pride had held over him since they’d parted ways.
He ached to be on friendlier terms with her, rather than having to step so carefully around her as he had been doing.
Hopefully the plan he’d put in place for when they were finally able to escape this party would set him on a path towards that.
‘Did you manage to speak to Rob alone? Is it a done deal?’ Emma murmured into his ear as she finally made it back to where he stood.
The soft caress of her breath on his skin chased shivers up his spine.
Taking a steadying breath, he turned to look her in the eye; hyperaware of his pulse beating an erratic rhythm through his veins as he looked into her beautiful face and saw only genuine interest and concern for him there.
Was there still something there between them? And could there be something again, even after all this time?
He pushed the thought away, knowing he was playing with fire even considering the idea.
‘Yes, I’m all done here. It’s time to go,’ he told her, detecting a flash of relief on her face.
He made a mental note to pay her back tenfold for putting herself out for him like this. Her willingness to help him proved she was still the same big-hearted, generous person she’d always been. This travesty with her father hadn’t broken her—in fact, like the age-old adage, it had only made her stronger.
Taking her hand, he gently led her towards the door, where their hosts were standing, chatting to a group of new people that had just arrived.
‘Rob, we’re going to make a move. Thanks for a good party,’ he said to his future associate, shaking the man’s hand.
‘Glad the two of you could make it,’ Rob said, returning the firm handshake and giving Emma a courteous nod. ‘It was lovely to meet you, Emma. I hope we get to spend more time with you soon.’
He meant it too; Jack could tell by the conviction in the man’s voice. It was one of the things that had him excited about amalgamating their companies. Rob was well known for his straight-talking attitude and ability to cut through the bull. They seemed to be very similar in the way they conducted business and he was going to be a most useful ally.
‘Thank you for your kind hospitality,’ Emma said graciously, returning Rob’s smile and accepting a kiss on both cheeks from his apparently rather lovestruck wife, who was gazing at Emma with something akin to adoration in her eyes.
Not that he was surprised; she was such a genuine, warm person it was impossible not to fall under her spell.
The air was mercifully cool on his overheated skin as they walked carefully down the smooth slate steps of the Chelsea town house, making allowances for Emma’s high heels.
His body twitched with nerves as he ran over what he had planned for them this evening. It had taken some doing—calling in favours from here, there and everywhere—but he was pleased with what he’d been able to pull together at the last second.
The idea had struck him earlier as he’d watched her walk away from the kitchen table looking adorably dishevelled in her baggy old pyjamas that had done absolutely nothing to dampen his body’s desire for her.
She was the kind of woman that would look sexy in a hessian sack.
After the years of hard work she’d put into clearing her father’s name, denying herself the kind of life that she ought to have been living as a young, driven and intelligent woman, it was time she was allowed to have some fun for once.
As they reached the pavement, right on cue his driver pulled up next to them in the car.
Emma turned to frown at him. ‘You ordered the car to pick us up to drive us the two streets home? I know my heels are a bit high, but I think that’s what you’d call overkill, Jack. I can make it a hundred yards in them without falling flat on my face, you know.’
He shot her a grin. ‘I’m sure you can, but do you really want to take the chance? Especially if we have to make a run for it into the house.’
Shaking her long, sleek hair back over her shoulder, she gave an indifferent shrug. ‘I’ve been managing fine all evening and I’m getting quite good at putting on a blithely bored face for any journos that cross my path now.’
He smiled as she treated him to a demonstration of the facial expression she’d just described.
‘Actually, we’re not going home,’ he told her.
‘Where are we going, then? We have the interview with Perdita in the morning, remember, and I don’t think she’ll be too impressed to have to change her article’s name to “At home with two hungover zombies”. It’s not that kind of magazine.’
Flashing her a grin of wry amusement, he motioned for her to get into the car, holding the door open for her and raising a playful eyebrow when she frowned at him in confusion.
‘Don’t worry, Cinderella, I’ll have you back before midnight. Well, maybe a little after midnight.’
‘From where?’ she asked pointedly.
‘You’ll see. It’s a surprise. Trust me,’ he added when she gave him the side-eye.
Muttering under her breath, she finally relented and slid into the back seat of the car, swinging her long legs in last so he was rewarded with a flash of her slender, creamy-skinned thighs before shutting the door for her.
The evocative image remained stubbornly planted in his mind until he managed to shake it out by determinedly replacing it with a vision of his plan for the evening.
The car drove them slowly out of Chelsea then along the tree-lined Embankment that ran next to the majestic expanse of the river Thames, the newly hung sparkling Christmas lights running parallel with their route. Taking a right, they travelled across Vauxhall Bridge then past the vibrant greenery of Lambeth Palace Gardens until their final destination was in sight.
Emma didn’t utter a word throughout their whole journey, but repeatedly gave him searching looks as famous landmarks passed them by, which he gently rebuffed each time with a secretive smile.
By the time John pulled the car up a short walking distance from the South Bank promenade her brow was so crinkled and her eyes so wide with bafflement he couldn’t help but laugh.
‘We’re here,’ he said, and, not waiting for her reply, he got out to walk round the back of the car and open her door for her. ‘I wanted to do something to say thank you for all the work you’ve put into making the house look so spectacular,’ he said as he took her hand and helped her out of the car, holding onto her until she’d centred her balance on those preposterously high heels of hers.
Her fingers felt cool and fragile in his grip and he had a mad urge to wrap his arms around her and hold her close, to let her know he was there for her now and she didn’t need to do it on her own any more.
He didn’t though, afraid that he might wind up with both a sore shin and a profoundly bruised ego.
Not that he didn’t deserve that.
‘Are we going to see a film?’ she asked with a hint of disappointment in her voice.
‘Nope,’ he said, looping his arm through hers and letting out a secret breath of relief when she didn’t pull away from him.
Her body radiated heat next to him as they walked along the mercifully deserted riverside towards their destination, arm in arm, the culmination of his plan for the evening looming over them in all its grand spherical glory.
She stumbled a little and he tightened his grip to keep her upright.
‘Okay, you’re going to have to tell me where we’re going so I know how far I have to make it in these not made for hiking along the South Bank heels,’ she grumbled.
He smiled at her frustration, which of course only made her scowl back at him.
‘Okay, we’re here,’ he said as they reached the entrance to the London Eye where a young woman was standing at the end of a plush red carpet, snuggled into a jacket branded with the attraction’s logo.
Emma stared at him in surprise. ‘The Eye? But I thought they closed it at night.’
‘Not for us. They’ve made a special exception.’
She blinked twice. ‘Why?’
‘Because when I told them how much you deserved a chance to finally have something you wanted they had no choice but to say yes.’
She looked at him as if she couldn’t quite believe this was happening, her nose adorably wrinkled.
‘Let’s get on,’ he said, tugging gently on her arm.
She looked up at him and he smiled at the expression of awe on her face.
‘I hope you’re ready for the ride of your life, Em.’
