She heard the faint bitterness in his voice and thought of his wife’s sudden illness, of the plans they must have had, which had died with her. He was so full of pain and anger. Perhaps Evie could help him heal.
‘I have to say, things might have turned out very differently today if it hadn’t been for your interpreting skills. You got us out of a sticky situation, and I’m very grateful. When did you learn to speak French so fluently?’
‘Oh, I’ve forgotten most of it now,’ she replied, ‘but I spent a year in Paris after I left school.’
His brow lifted. ‘Didn’t you want to use your French in your work?’
She shook her head. ‘To be honest, I only went to France to get away from my parents. They were very disappointed that I’d flunked my exams and hadn’t got into university.’
‘Well, you’re clearly gifted in languages.’
‘Only for speaking. I was never any good at all the written stuff – grammar, translations, essay writing.’
He threw her a long, hard look. ‘I wish you wouldn’t do that.’
She took in the rigid line of his jaw. ‘Do what?’
‘Put yourself down. Focus constantly on what you can’t do, rather than what you’re good at.’
She opened her mouth to answer but found she didn’t know what to say.
‘It’s strange,’ he went on, ‘because in other people and in everything around you, you always focus on the positives. Yet you berate yourself, you belittle your talents. Why are you so hard on yourself, Evie?’
‘I – I don’t know. Because I’m not like other people. I’m clumsy, I never follow the conventional route. I’m different.’
‘But don’t you see that different is good? Unconventional is unique?’
‘My parents wouldn’t agree. They wish I would—’
‘Forget about your parents for one moment,’ he cut in, with an impatient wave of his hand. ‘Listen to me. You should be proud of your talents. You’re a skilled seamstress, you speak French fluently, you’re a kind and generous person. And good company.’
‘Good company?’ She was overwhelmed. Coming from Mr Arctic himself, that was the biggest compliment. ‘That’s not what you said the first time I met you. When we were snowed in.’
‘Yes, well …’ His eyes held hers. ‘I behaved like an idiot that night. I was wrapped up in self-pity. Now …’ He sucked in breath.
‘Now?’ she prompted quietly.
‘Now I know you, Evie Miller, I realise I have a lot to thank you for.’
He knew her? He wanted to thank her? Tonight was turning out to be a night of revelations, and it felt … magical.
‘A lot to thank me for? What do you mean? I should be thanking you. You’re the one who brought me here.’ She looked around at the beautiful château in the stunning Provence countryside.
He nodded. ‘You came into my life like a bright light, altering my perspective, challenging me, standing up to me. I admire you for that.’
They had come a long way since that first night snowed in at the Old Hall. ‘You admire me for arguing with you?’
‘I’ve had to rethink the way I see the world, and that’s in no small part due to you.’
Her heart flipped over. Did that mean she’d made him happy? She hoped so. ‘It hasn’t all been one way,’ she said. Her voice was surprisingly low and a little frayed around the edges. ‘You’ve become a good friend too.’
He was fiercely supportive, always shining a spotlight on her achievements and encouraging her to believe in herself. Despite his brittle outer shell, he had a nurturing personality. She’d seen it in the way he cared for Smoke, too.
Which led her back to a question which had been niggling ever since their first meeting when he’d examined her ankle with gentle, capable hands. ‘Why did you give up practising medicine?’ she asked.
He stilled. She felt a flash of panic at the sudden ice in his eyes, at the hard set of his chin, and her heart sank. She’d done it again, said something wrong.
‘I was ready for a change,’ he said dismissively.
But he would be a great doctor, she was sure of it. Knowledgeable. Calm. Committed.
‘That doesn’t answer the question. Being a doctor must have been far more rewarding than the job you’re doing now.’
He didn’t look at her, but stared into the depths of his glass.
‘Be honest with me, Jake. Do you enjoy importing wine?’
‘It’s not about enjoyment. It’s about earning a living and keeping busy.’ His mouth snapped shut, signalling that that was the end of the conversation.
Footsteps approached and the hotel owner came in. Evie leaned back in her seat and smiled politely as Christine cleared their plates.
‘Was everything all right with your meal?’ Christine asked.
‘It was perfect,’ said Jake. ‘Thank you for letting us stay. It’s very kind.’
Evie sat back, wondering why he was so evasive. She knew there were things in his past which were difficult to talk about, but surely his job wasn’t one of them? She remembered what Louisa had said about how he used to be the life and soul of the party – before he’d changed. His wife’s death had transformed him into a man with dark secrets, a man who stoically kept his pain and feelings close to his heart, and Evie wondered, would anyone ever be allowed to get close to him again?
Christine led them through to the lounge and made it clear that she was leaving them in privacy now and would be back in the morning to prepare breakfast. They thanked her and she closed the door behind her. The fire was burning, but the clear skies meant that the temperature outside had dropped dramatically when the sun had set, and now Evie hugged her arms around herself, wishing she had more than just a light sweater with her.
‘Want to watch television?’ asked Jake, as they sat down on the sofa in front of the fire.
Evie wrinkled her nose. ‘My French isn’t that good.’ She pulled a strand of hair forward and absently began to plait it. Her fingers itched to sew but, of course, she had nothing with her, not even a needle and thread.
‘What will you do, then, without your sewing?’ The corner of his mouth lifted in a teasing smile.
‘You read my mind.’ She shivered. ‘A warm quilt would have been nice to wrap around me.’ She leaned forward and held her hands out as if to catch the heat from the fire.
‘You’re cold?’
‘A little.’
Jake took his jacket off and draped it around her shoulders. Then he crossed the room to pour cognac from the tray Christine had left for them. Evie followed him with her gaze and pulled the jacket close. The mint-coloured linen was warm from his body and carried the scent of his aftershave. It made her feel a little light-headed.
‘Here.’ He handed her a wide-bottomed glass, just like those her dad used for his post-dinner drink at home. ‘This will warm you.’
‘On top of all the wine I had? I’ll be drunk,’ she said, curling her fingers around it and throwing him a mischievous smile. ‘I might do something I regret.’
Or something daring, she thought, holding her breath and watching from beneath her lashes as he sat down beside her. She felt that spark again – the simmering bite of desire that was becoming so familiar.
She had a choice: she could carry on ignoring it or she could be honest with him. She didn’t want the complications of a relationship, and he didn’t either. He’d made that clear.
A new and unexpected surge of courage flowed through her and she knew it was thanks to him. Each day she had grown in confidence. Tonight, she knew what she wanted.
She just hoped he wanted it too.
He sat down. ‘Pollyanna regret something? Doesn’t she always look on the bright side? I’d have thought this would be your cue to tell me how breaking down was actually a blessing because it led us to this gem of a hotel, a delicious meal, and an unexpectedly pleasant evening.’
She laughed. ‘It has been a lovely evening. And an adventure. Sometimes Fate leads us down unex
pected paths … and they can be more interesting than the ones we would have chosen.’
He threw her an indulgent smile.
She took a sip of the cognac and her eyes widened with shock. It burned her throat and made her cough. ‘Wow!’ she spluttered. ‘That’s strong!’
His eyes creased as he laughed and warmth unfurled from her centre, heating her blood. She put the glass down. She wanted to keep a clear head tonight.
‘Warmer now?’ he asked.
‘Much.’
She leaned back, letting the pillowy sofa absorb her weight. He took another slow slug of his cognac and gazed thoughtfully at the fire. Silence settled around them.
Evie took a deep breath, mustering all her courage. ‘So … where do we go from here?’
He looked at her. She held his gaze.
‘I take it you’re not talking geographically?’
‘No,’ she said softly. ‘You said you feel it too – this attraction. If ignoring it doesn’t work, what next?’
‘You ask that as if I hold all the answers.’ His glass chinked as he put it down on the glass table beside him. ‘I don’t. And even if I did, I could only speak for myself.’
She swallowed. ‘We agree we don’t want a relationship, but it doesn’t have to be complicated. It could just be …’ her cheeks flamed ‘… what it is.’
As long as they were clear this was just physical, no one would get hurt.
Jake’s chest rose and fell with each breath. Was it her imagination or did it pick up pace?
‘And what’s that?’ he asked softly.
She swallowed. ‘Fun. No strings.’
His silence was unbearable. Oh, God, why had she said anything? She’d probably misunderstood what he’d said earlier.
Suddenly, her fledgling confidence deserted her. She’d been mad to make such a suggestion, setting herself up for certain humiliation. Now his opinion of her would sink so low there’d be no redeeming herself. Mortified, she looked at her knees and steeled herself for his rejection.
Chapter Fifteen
Jake had to admit it was the last thing he’d expected.
Yet a no-strings fling made sense. For both of them.
The jealousy he’d felt at François’ vineyard today had taken him by surprise, but it didn’t mean he was ready to embark on a full-blown relationship. He almost reached for the chain around his neck but stopped himself. He wasn’t ready at all, but his attraction to Evie was becoming difficult to ignore. As long as this remained purely physical, it wasn’t a betrayal of his wife’s memory, was it?
‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said, moving to get up. Her face was flushed, her skin the colour of the fruity young Syrah they’d drunk with dinner. ‘I shouldn’t have said anything. This was a mistake.’
He put his hand on her arm to stop her. She looked beautiful with her hair loose around her shoulders, luxuriant and gleaming in the gold light of the fire. ‘Don’t run away,’ he said, his voice rough.
She shot him a nervous glance.
He licked his lips, conscious of what was at stake. Their friendship meant a lot to him. He’d almost lost it once already after the ball. He didn’t want to risk losing it again. ‘Evie, I want this. I want it more than anything, but you need to know it can never be love. If that’s what you’re looking for, you should walk away now.’
Those big hazel eyes stared up at him. ‘I understand. You don’t want a relationship, and neither do I, remember?’
‘But you might—’
‘No,’ she cut in firmly, and he was glad to see her confidence had returned. Her dimples winked at him. ‘This would be just fun. No complications. A no-strings fling is exactly what I need after Tim. And when we get back to Willowbrook we’ll go back to normal life. Agreed?’
His heart hammered against his ribcage. He brushed the loose strands back from her face, and the desire to kiss her almost overtook him. However, he held back. It felt imperative that they got this straight, that there was no misunderstanding. ‘What do you mean by normal life?’
‘Being friends. Hanging out together.’
‘There’ll be no going back from this. We won’t be just friends any more.’
‘Then we carry on having …’ the fire in her cheeks was impossibly endearing ‘… fun. The point is, we don’t let it spoil our friendship. I love seeing Smoke. I don’t want to have to stop because we’ve fallen out.’ She looked up at him from beneath her lashes with pure mischief and it made his heart pole-vault.
This was Evie through and through: teasing, cheeky, joyful. The demon of self-doubt well and truly banished.
His lip curled. ‘So, you admit you like my dog more than me? I knew it.’
Her smile lit her eyes. But they both became serious as he dipped his head and kissed her gently. Tentatively. The brush of their lips was electric. Desire crashed through him, but he reined it in and searched her face. If she showed the faintest sign of hesitation he would stop immediately.
She didn’t. The hunger in her eyes made his muscles tighten. His pulse thrummed in his ears. She reached up and drew his head down again. This time she took the lead and kissed him, and for some reason it thrilled him. Their breathing became ragged, and their hands began to seek each other urgently, feverishly.
He glanced up at the door, fairly certain their host wasn’t going to return, but not willing to take any chances. ‘Why don’t we go upstairs?’ he murmured.
At the top of the stone staircase he pushed open his door simply because it was the closest. He shut it and drew her to him. Her body felt achingly soft against his. She slipped off his scarf, and he groaned as she unbuttoned his shirt slowly, darting him shy looks, running her tongue across her lips in a way that made the blood speed through his veins. With any other woman he would have assumed she was being deliberately provocative – but this was Evie. Sweet, trusting, clumsy Evie, who only did genuine.
Finally, she unfastened the last button and he pulled his shirt off impatiently, closing his eyes as she spread her fingers across his chest, her fingertips brushing his nipples, her palms smoothing over the dips and ripples of his torso.
He drew breath and ran his hands through her long hair, trying to keep things slow, resisting the urge to undress her and pull her over him so those honey locks would spill down onto him. But then her fingers moved to his buckle and fumbled, and his self-control snapped.
He took over. The belt came undone, his trousers were discarded, and he was naked. Charmed by the colour that touched her cheeks, he kissed her again and made equally quick work of removing her clothes too. Her sharp intakes of breath as he kissed her throat and her neck only made his pulse race faster, and soon they both lay on the large bed, their bodies touching, heating, rubbing beneath the crisp white sheets.
‘Jake, I want you,’ she whispered.
His blood pounded. ‘Evie—’ His voice cracked. He had to call on all his self-restraint. ‘It – it’s been a long time. I might be … out of practice.’
Her eyes widened. What had she thought? That because he was a man, sex was something he did regularly, and with anyone?
‘Of course,’ she said, and kissed him. ‘We’ve got all night.’
But neither of them slowed down. It was hot, urgent, hungry. With Maria it had always been reverent. Slow. They had—
He pushed his wife out of his mind to concentrate on Evie. This might be no-strings but that didn’t mean he couldn’t give her his full focus. That was what she deserved at the very least. He ran his hands over the indent of her waist, savouring her pillowy softness, breathing in her sweet scent. And as he did so, the ghost of his wife’s memory gradually receded.
Evie moved over him and her hair spilled down, brushing his face, his shoulders, his chest. And it felt even silkier and sexier than he’d imagined. Her lashes fanned out across her cheeks as she closed her eyes, lips parted, and sucked in air.
Jake watched her, determined not to let go but to keep tight control for her benefit an
d her pleasure. But as her hips moved beneath his hands, the energy between them rose and brimmed and became so overpowering that he closed his eyes in surrender. He held her as she collapsed against his chest and their hearts hammered.
He felt lighter and more alive than he had in a long time. He stroked her hair, murmured quiet words in her ear and wondered why had he waited so long for this. It might not be love, it might be nothing like what he and Maria had shared, but it was pleasure of the most potent kind.
And for a moment there it had helped him forget.
Evie watched Jake sleep. The frown had gone from his brow, his chest rose and fell slowly, unhurried, and she was glad that in sleep, at least, he had found peace.
She smiled, like a very contented cat, and watched as the rising sun lit the distant hills and the mousy light of dawn was replaced with a coral glow. Closing the shutters had been the last thing on their minds last night. They’d been— It had—
She struggled to put into coherent thought the bliss, the exquisite sensations, the revelation that it had been for her. Frankly, she’d never known sex like that.
With Tim she’d never felt a wildfire of desire as she had last night, or the sense of giving herself up to an unstoppable force. And he’d never taken his time getting to know her as Jake had, his fingers tracing the outline of her hips, her thighs, smiling when she moaned, making her sigh and gasp and explode with pleasure over and over again. She’d never felt as if she’d given so much of herself, either. It made her feel … vulnerable.
Fear fluttered in her belly.
Just fun, she had confidently proposed. A no-strings fling. It sounded so simple. But today her head was spinning and her heart was doing somersaults just remembering it all. Could she really separate her emotions from what had happened last night?
A cockerel’s call pierced the morning silence, but Jake slept on undisturbed.
Of course she could. Especially knowing that Jake’s heart was with Maria. And this was nothing like her relationship with Tim.
It was better, a devilish voice whispered.
Her pulse quickened in panic. No, not better. Different. Jake had always been honest with her about his feelings. This can never be love, he’d warned.
The Christmas Holiday: The perfect heart-warming read full of festive magic Page 23