Читать книгу Second Chance Proposal - Miranda Lee, Jennifer Faye - Страница 9

CHAPTER THREE

VIVIENNE FOUND THE surprised expression on Jack Stone’s normally stone-like face somewhat satisfying. So, he was not a machine after all! Okay, so he had stared at her breasts in the bathroom just now. But not the way most men would have stared. There’d been no lust in his piercing blue eyes. There’d been nothing but shock. Possibly because she wasn’t dead, as he’d imagined.

It had shaken Vivienne when Marion had explained that was what they’d both been thinking, making her see how her very uncharacteristic behaviour—especially her rather hysterical quitting of her job—would worry the people who truly cared about her. Not Jack, of course. Vivienne wasn’t silly enough to think Jack Stone cared about her. She knew him better than that. His showing up here and bringing her flowers was just a ploy to get her to do what he wanted. He didn’t give a damn if her heart was broken, as long as she agreed to what he had in mind work-wise.

And her heart was broken.

It was bad enough to be told that the man she loved no longer loved her. Worse was finally finding out who it was he’d left her for. Even worse was seeing the size of Courtney Ellison’s baby bump.

The realisation that Daryl had been cheating on her for months had been devastating. Mostly because she’d believed him when he’d insisted he hadn’t slept with his new love as yet.

God, she couldn’t bear to think about how stupid and gullible she’d been where that man was concerned.

She would not think about it any more, she vowed staunchly. Instead, she steeled her spine and eyed Jack with what she hoped was a steadfast gaze. The last thing she wanted to do was break down in front of the likes of him.

‘Well?’ she said sharply. ‘Out with it.’

His blue eyes darkened, his thick dark brows bunching together in a puzzled frown.

Another first, Vivienne thought with perverse triumph. First surprise and now confusion.

‘Are you saying you’ll actually consider my proposal?’ he asked.

Vivienne laughed. ‘Not if it’s a proposal of marriage. But I’m prepared to consider a work proposal. It’s occurred to me that I was foolish to quit my job, especially if it’s going to make people think I’m about to top myself. So yes, Jack, tell me what you want me to do, and if I like the idea I’ll do it.’

Once again, Jack gave her a look unlike any he’d ever given her. He also did something else: he smiled, a slow almost amused smile which was annoyingly unreadable.

Vivienne wondered what she’d said that had tickled his fancy. Possibly her crack about a marriage proposal. It was well known around the building world that Jack Stone was a confirmed bachelor. No surprise there. How could he be anything else? The man was a workaholic. He wouldn’t have time for a wife and a family. She’d never seen him with a girlfriend in tow, either. Not on site at any of his building projects, or even at last year’s Christmas party.

Vivienne suspected, however, that he didn’t live the life of a monk. He was too male for that. ‘Testosterone on legs’ was the way one of her female colleagues at Classic Design had once described him.

Vivienne knew what she meant. Well over six feet tall, Jack possessed the same broad-shouldered, powerful body that you saw on wood-chopping champions. Just look what he’d done to her bathroom door! His face was all male as well, with a high forehead, strong nose, granite jaw and a wide, uncompromising mouth. Short dark hair and thick dark brows completed the macho picture.

There was no doubt a lot of women would find him quite attractive, despite his lack of warmth and charm. He did have nice blue eyes, Vivienne conceded, but they were usually hard and cold. They rarely twinkled with humour as they had a moment ago. Not that that made any difference to her. Jack was not her type and never would be.

For some reason, however, she couldn’t help wondering just who his type of woman was. Who did he sleep with? When he could find the time, that was. It occurred to Vivienne that maybe he had a mistress stashed away somewhere who made herself available to him just for sex without expecting anything else. Except money, of course. Which Jack had plenty of.

Vivienne looked deep into his eyes, trying to see if he was that kind of man. His eyes didn’t waver, boring back into hers, their expression no longer amused. A strangely erotic shiver ran down Vivienne’s spine as she realised that, yes, he probably would have a mistress. How odd, she thought, that she would find such an arrangement rather titillating. She should have been disgusted. But she wasn’t. Not even remotely.

‘You’ve gone very quiet all of a sudden,’ Jack said, breaking into her somewhat shocked silence.

‘Sorry. Just thinking. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking today. That was what I was doing in the bath all that time—thinking.’ After which she’d listened to music, some very loud, mind-numbing music. Hence her not hearing anyone knocking on the bathroom door.

‘Not much to be gained by too much thinking,’ Jack said. ‘Doing is the solution to most of life’s problems. You need to keep busy, Vivienne. Whether it’s working for me or someone else is immaterial. But you need to do something, not just sit around, not eating and not sleeping whilst your mind torments you with depressing thoughts. Next thing you know you’ll be stuffing yourself with pills every day, weeks will go by and before you know it you’ll be unemployable.’

‘Oh dear... From the sounds of things, it wasn’t just Nigel telling tales but Marion as well.’

‘They only have your best interests at heart, Vivienne.’

‘And you, Jack? Do you only have my best interests at heart by offering me this job?’

He shrugged. ‘I have to confess your best interests weren’t my first priority when I came here today. But that doesn’t mean I’m totally heartless. Trust me when I say that one day you’ll be glad that you didn’t marry that bastard.’

Vivienne’s teeth clenched hard in her jaw at Jack’s possibly well-meaning but still wounding words. She’d loved Daryl and it would take her longer than one miserable month to get over his betrayal.

At the same time, she wasn’t about to crawl into a hole and let him destroy her entirely. Jack was right. She did still have her work.

‘Perhaps,’ she bit out. ‘All right, run your proposal by me and I’ll see what I think.’

Five minutes later, Vivienne had to admit that Jack had surprised her. And also intrigued her. The last thing she would have expected him to want her services for was to do a complete refurbishment of a holiday home he’d bought out in the bush. Well, not the bush exactly. Port Stephens was on the coast not that far north of Newcastle, which was the second biggest city in New South Wales and not too long a drive from Sydney—two and a half, maybe three hours.

Because of its location, Port Stephens had become a popular holiday and retirement area. Vivienne had never been there herself, but she’d seen a segment about the area on a travel programme not long ago. Whilst the beaches and bays did look spectacular, and the various townships dotted along the coast perfectly civilised, there was still a lot of rugged bush around. Not only that; from what Jack told her, the house he’d bought wasn’t a typical beach shack sitting just off the sand. It did have water views but it was set back in the hills, and was simply huge, with a décor that was a mad mixture of Mediterranean villa and a fifties Hollywood mansion.

All in all, Francesco’s Folly sounded fascinating, and would no doubt be a challenge to fix up. A distracting and consuming challenge which would take ages. Just what she needed right now.

‘I have to admit you’ve surprised me,’ she said.

Jack leant back in his chair. ‘But are you interested in doing the job?’

‘Absolutely,’ she said in a firm voice.

‘Now you’ve surprised me,’ Jack admitted. ‘I was sure you were going to say no.’

Vivienne shrugged. ‘I only said I was interested, Jack. I haven’t said a definite yes yet.’

‘Fair enough.’ Jack glanced at his watch then up into her face, his blue eyes no longer twinkling with humour. He was back to business. ‘Look, I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. Marion said you don’t have much food in this place so I suggest you get yourself dressed and we’ll go find a local restaurant. We can work out the details of the job over lunch. I can’t actually sign you up till contracts have been exchanged on the property, but that shouldn’t take long. I rang my solicitor last night and told him to hurry things through. Meanwhile, I’m sure the estate agent handling the sale will be only too happy to give us the keys so that you can look through the place. I’ll drive you up there tomorrow.’

‘Tomorrow!’ Vivienne exclaimed.

‘What’s wrong with tomorrow? Don’t tell me you have anything else you have to do, because we both know you haven’t.’

Vivienne suppressed a sigh. She supposed it was too much to ask Jack to act any differently than he usually did when he was on site, charging through each minute of the day like he was perpetually on a deadline. If the man did have a mistress, she could just imagine how his visits to her would go. He’d ring her in advance and tell her to get her gear off so that she could be ready to service him the second he walked in the door.

Once again, Vivienne was shocked that she found such a scenario perversely exciting. Shocked that her body thought so too, her belly and nipples tightening underneath her robe. Thank the Lord it was a thick fluffy robe which hid everything. But her cheeks still flushed slightly as a wave of heat raced involuntarily through her veins. Her teeth immediately clenched down hard in her jaw as she battled for control over her mind, and her uncharacteristically wayward flesh. Vivienne wasn’t used to being sexually excited by her thoughts. She’d always needed romance to turn her on. And a man she was in love with.

Her immediate somewhat panicky response was to tell Jack that she wasn’t hungry and he should go get himself something to eat then come back later. But then Vivienne decided she was being silly. Jack didn’t know her secret thoughts, or feelings. On top of that, she was hungry.

‘Well, go on,’ Jack ordered. ‘Go and get dressed.’

Vivienne rolled her eyes but still stood up and headed for her bedroom, hopeful that the irritation Jack’s bossy manner always evoked in her would douse the unexpected heat he’d been somehow generating. Not that it was him exactly who’d been turning her on: it had been her imaginings over his mistress, the one who probably didn’t even exist. Why she’d invented her, Vivienne had no idea. But she vowed to put her and what Jack did with her right out of her head.

But typically that was easier said than done. As she put on her underwear—white cotton bikini briefs and a white stretchy bra, which minimised rather than enhanced her double-D-cup breasts—Vivienne started wondering what kind of underwear mistresses wore. Something very sexy, no doubt. Nothing made of cotton, that was for sure. Or possibly nothing at all.

‘Oh God!’ Vivienne cried, and dropped her head into her hands.