After gathering as much information as she needed, she finally made her way back to the villa, feeling drowsy now in the afternoon heat.
As she pulled the car onto the driveway she could see Xander in the distance, a mug of coffee in one hand and a paintbrush in the other, standing in front of an easel set up on the lawn overlooking the lake. He must have heard the car’s engine because he turned round to look her way, dropped his paintbrush onto the grass next to a pallet of paints and strode towards her, waving.
‘Hey, Jess, there you are.’
He stumbled as he walked towards her, spilling coffee down his trousers.
Jess shot him a grin, glad for the distraction from the anxiety about facing him again after the debacle of the night before.
He raised a questioning eyebrow. ‘What’s so funny?’ he said, brushing at the stain with his fingers.
She shrugged, nerves making her jittery. ‘It’s nice to see you making mistakes, too. It just proves even the most self-possessed people mess up. I like that—it makes me feel better about myself. If you can spill coffee all over your crotch then it’s okay for me to rip my clothes off in a restaurant. Or something.’
He gave her a puzzled look. ‘You’re a very strange woman, you know that?’
She snorted. ‘Actually I do. It’s not a new observation.’
He smiled and her blood heated. There was something in his gaze she hadn’t seen before. Something that made her insides flip.
‘Where have you been today?’
‘I went for a drive around the lake. I’m writing a travel piece too while I’m here so I wanted to get a feel of the place.’
‘Man, they keep you busy there, don’t they?’
She shrugged. ‘I like to keep busy.’
He nodded but didn’t say anything, his gaze flicking down to her mouth. She tensed under his scrutiny. He seemed to move closer to her, just a fraction, as if he were thinking about going in for a kiss and she froze with anxiety, not at all sure what to do with herself. Her lips tingled at the thought of his mouth, hot and hard against hers.
‘I’m a p-professional,’ she stuttered in panic and his gaze flicked back to meet hers, amusement clear in his eyes.
‘A professional what?’ His expression was full of barely contained laugher.
Jess straightened her T-shirt. Smoothed down her hair. ‘Here in a professional capacity, I mean, so please don’t feel you have to, you know, look after me or anything.’
He nodded a couple of times, still looking at her as if she was the funniest thing he’d ever encountered. ‘What if I like looking after you?’ His eyes suddenly lit with an idea before she could respond. ‘Hey, why don’t we bring a picnic down to the cove later? It should be warm enough and if we’re lucky we might get a pretty amazing sunset,’ he said, cocking his head while he waited for her to agree.
It sounded much too romantic an idea for her liking, but she couldn’t spend the next couple of days hiding from him as she had today. She still hadn’t got everything she needed in order to write the column and it would be a good opportunity to ask him some more questions while he was relaxed and happy in her company. ‘Yeah, sure, that sounds like fun,’ she said, not giving her cowardly alter ego a chance to interfere.
‘Great. I’ll get Rosa to make a hamper up for us. Shall we say eight o’clock again?’
She nodded dumbly. ‘Yes. Eight.’
‘Okay, then.’ He was looking at her so intensely she wondered whether there was something wrong with her face.
‘Listen,’ he said, finally breaking the silence, ‘I hope you didn’t think I was being insensitive last night, after we’d talked about your...eating issues.’
He looked genuinely concerned and she felt a rush of affection for him.
‘Nah, don’t worry about it. I think we were both a bit freaked by what happened in the restaurant. I don’t suppose it’s often you have to strip off to save your date from dying of embarrassment.’
He laughed. ‘As I’m sure you’ve noticed, I don’t have a problem with stripping off.’
Jess felt the inevitable warmth creep up her neck at the thought of his naked, toned torso in such close proximity to her. ‘Yeah, well, you don’t need to rein that in on my account,’ she said, flashing him what she hoped would come across as an affable smile. She wanted to show him she did still have some vestige of control in the flirty-banter stakes.
He raised a dark eyebrow and tipped his head in appreciation. ‘Noted,’ he said, before turning away and walking back to his easel.
* * *
Jess paced the floor of the hall, waiting for Xander to turn up and collect her for their picnic tea.
She’d put the pillar-box-red top and pencil skirt on for tonight, then taken the whole ensemble off again. Then a minute later put it back on, telling herself it was a positive step in the right direction to push herself out of her comfort zone.
To unstuff herself.
But then again, she needed every ounce of confidence tonight if she was going to get through the evening with her pride intact.
She’d been about to take it off again when she’d caught sight of her wild-eyed reflection in the mirror.
She was turning into a complete loony.
Whatever was happening between her and Xander was making her lose her mind. She was ninety per cent sure it wasn’t all in her head. Okay, maybe eighty, but he’d definitely kicked his flirting up a notch recently.
What the hell was going on? She could have sworn he would have kissed her last night if she hadn’t broken the atmosphere by flapping about like a headless chicken. Or was that just a figure of her overactive imagination? In the past she’d been prone to reading more into a situation than was actually there, and it had made her wary about taking anything for granted when it came to men and relationships.
Another thing she hated—making a fool of herself.
Not that she hadn’t already managed that in the couple of days she’d been here.
When he finally turned up at five past eight, looking, oh, so divinely edible, she was so nervous the first thing she said was, ‘You’re late. Again.’
Despite her snippy tone, he gave her an amused grin. ‘Are you going to spank me with your ruler, Headmistress? Because I’ll take whatever punishment you choose to dish out.’
She took a shaky step back away from him, but kept her gaze locked with his. ‘Don’t be so facetious,’ she murmured, her body tense with the sudden desire to throw herself at him and consequences be damned.
He took a step towards her, closing the gap between them. ‘Ooh, yeah, keep using those long words on me, too. I like that.’
She slapped him gently on the arm. ‘You’re incorrigible.’
He slapped her back, a seductive eyebrow quirked.
Narrowing her eyes in jest, she did it again, feeling the rock-hard muscle of his triceps vibrate under her touch.
Before she could react he wrapped his hand round hers and, trapping it there against him, walked her backwards until her back hit the wall. The heat from his body radiated over her skin, sending zingy electric currents through her limbs.
‘This is just like being back in the school playground,’ she barely managed to struggle out. Her tongue felt like a lead weight in her mouth and her lips were tight with tension.
He moved his body closer to her and a flood of longing flashed through her. ‘Did you like playing kiss chase at school?’ he murmured, dipping his head so he could look directly into her eyes. His pupils looked huge against the bright aqua of his irises.
‘Of course,’ she said, her voice husky and broken. ‘And I’m guessing you were always the first kid to suggest playing it?’ Staring defiantly back, she attempted to hold her nerve, determined not to be the one to look away first. He was teasing her,
trying to trip her up and get her to admit just how much of an effect he had on her. He wasn’t going to win, though; she wouldn’t let him.
He shifted even closer, bringing with him a waft of his fresh citrus scent.
It was no good—she just wasn’t as good at this game as he was. She closed her eyes as an onslaught of lust nearly brought her to her knees.
‘Somebody has to take control,’ he said quietly.
She glanced up at him, straight into those unfathomable eyes. ‘I’d have fought you for it,’ she practically whispered, her throat tight with tension.
He smiled in a way that made her whole body ache with longing.
His hand was still trapping hers against his body and she could feel the faint pulse in his fingertips. Or was that her own pulse that seemed to have taken her over? She throbbed to the beat as it concentrated deep in her pelvis. She was so turned on she felt faintly queasy.
Taking a deep breath, she swivelled to one side so he had to release her from his grip. ‘Shall we go?’ she said.
His expression flashed with a mixture of surprise and something else. Disappointment?
‘Okay, if you like,’ he said, his voice rumbling low in his throat. ‘I’ll grab the food from the kitchen.’
He came back a few moments later with a hamper and a folded square of material, which she assumed was a picnic rug.
Jess reminded herself not to get too excited about how special this all felt. Xander had probably done things like this a million times before with a million other women.
He turned to smile at her. ‘Okay, we’re set.’
She nodded in agreement and joined him as he walked through the large patio doors, which opened onto the rear garden of the villa, and traversed the path that led down to the cove.
They walked in silence through the muted evening light, Xander cradling the picnic hamper close to his chest. The air was balmy and close with a threatening rainstorm, the atmosphere electric with the promise of a much-needed purge of humidity.
They picked their way over the warm sand of the cove to the far side, just back from the water, where they had a spectacular view of the opposite shore of the lake, which was beginning to glow and twinkle with colourful lights as the sky darkened.
‘I hope it doesn’t rain on us,’ Jess said, gazing at the ominous-looking clouds in the distance.
‘We’ll be fine for a while,’ Xander said, putting down the hamper and flapping open the thick rug, smoothing it carefully flat before gesturing for Jess to sit down on it.
Once she’d made herself comfortable—yanking down hard on her skirt so it covered as much of her legs as possible—he dropped down next to her, so close she could feel the heat of him radiating towards her.
Pulling out cartons of cold meats, salad, olives and a wealth of other local delicacies, he laid them out carefully on the rug and handed her a plate.
‘Dig in,’ he said, motioning towards the feast in front of them.
While Jess picked out a few things for her plate he reached into the hamper and came out with a couple of oil-fired lamps and lit them with a long match. They cast a soft glow over the area where they sat.
If she hadn’t thought it ridiculous she would have assumed he was deliberately setting up a romantic atmosphere. As it was, she was so nervous she could barely eat a thing. Xander didn’t remark on it, though; he must have thought talking about food and eating was a no-go area after her confession the night before.
It was kind of him—thoughtful—and she felt a glow of affection towards him.
‘You know, you’re nothing like I expected you to be.’
He raised a questioning eyebrow. ‘No?’
‘The press make you out to be some badly behaved lout, but they’ve clearly got you pegged all wrong.’
He frowned in mock disgruntlement. ‘Don’t say that. I was rather enjoying living up to my bad-boy reputation.’
She laughed. ‘What was it that made you so wild in your youth?’ she asked casually, holding her breath as she waited to see whether Xander trusted her enough yet to tell her something that personal about himself.
Those beautiful eyes of his seemed fathomless as he stared at her, his gaze raking her face for signs of...what? A set-up?
Her heart whammed against her chest like a malfunctioning metronome as she waited to see whether he’d answer her question. She needed some interesting backstory to make the story shine, but somewhere in her brain a small voice told her she really wanted to know for herself. She wanted to think the best of him, because despite the arrogance—which she was beginning to suspect was actually a defence mechanism—she really liked him. And not just because he was so gorgeous, but because she sensed there was a whole lot more to him than he ever let anyone else see.
The optimistic side of him must have won because he leant forward, his gaze capturing hers, and said, ‘What do you think it was?’
A slow trickle of excitement percolated through her veins as she realised this could be it—he was letting her in. ‘Did you have a tough upbringing?’ she asked, desperately hoping she hadn’t read him all wrong.
He folded his arms across his broad chest, making the muscles in his shoulders and arms bunch beneath his T-shirt. He looked down at the flickering candle between them. ‘You could say that. My parents never intended having a child. I was an accident—which my father liked to remind me of every chance he got.’ He looked back at her and she was shocked to see insecurity in his expression—something she’d not encountered before. ‘My mum died giving birth to me.’
His voice had taken on a steely edge, which sent a shiver of horror through her. ‘I paid my way in that family by spending most of my childhood working to keep myself fed and clothed—until my dad kicked me out when I was sixteen. He’d spend most of his time down the pub or the betting office, so I hardly saw him anyway.’ He leant back on the rug, anchoring his arms behind him and readjusting his body before looking at her. There was nothing on his face but a blank expression now, as if he’d drawn down the shutters.
‘How awful for you.’ She could picture him as a child not being allowed to do the things that normal kids did—not being allowed to be a child—and it made her chest ache.
He shrugged. ‘It was tough at times. I got into a lot of trouble, for shoplifting and fighting and then for my graffiti and got myself a bad reputation. The teachers wrote me off after a few years of failing to straighten me out.’
She’d known children like that when she was at school. Loners. Lost souls. People who had difficulty fitting into what everyone else thought of as normal life because they’d never had the opportunity to experience it.
The atmosphere had dropped dark now and she wanted to pull it back before the hard pressure behind her eyes became real tears for him.
‘But look at you now.’ She managed to catch the wobble at the end of the sentence and turn it into a gentle clearing of her throat. ‘Everyone wants to own a piece of the great and talented Xander Heaton,’ she finished on a deeply concentrated frown as she battled to conceal her need to jump into his lap and rub herself all over him.
‘And which piece are you after, Jess?’ he asked, leaning forward now and giving her a seductive grin, the heavy atmosphere of the last couple of minutes evaporating into the air around them.
He was king of the suggestive comment, this guy.
All she could think about now was exactly which bits of Xander she’d like to get her hands on. Her mind flew to an image of his magnificent body, prostrate on her bed, with him wearing only a sheet and that mesmerising smile. She pictured herself leaning over him, lowering her lips to his as she attempted to kiss away all the pain that kept him so distant from the rest of the world....
‘Jess?’ He was frowning at her now as if he was afraid she’d walked through a door marked ‘crazy
’ and wasn’t coming back.
‘Yeah?’ She slid her hands over her hair in an attempt to straighten herself out. Neat hair, neat mind.
‘You okay?’
‘Fine.’ She stared out across the lake, attempting to bring herself back to reality.
‘Did you go to college or university to study art?’ she asked to fill the uncomfortable silence.
Putting his plate down, he leant back on his arms and looked out across the water. ‘Nah, I’m mostly self-taught. I left school when I left home at sixteen without any qualifications so no college would have touched me with a bargepole. I messed up a lot at school because of having to work late into the evening and being too tired to concentrate. Then I started skipping a lot because I couldn’t keep up with the lessons and ended up feeling stupid, and I hated that. So when I left I didn’t exactly have a bright and shiny future ahead of me.
‘Art was the only subject I enjoyed at school. It was the one thing I felt I was actually good at, and I had an amazing teacher who really encouraged me. Unfortunately I wasn’t in the right mindset at that age to put enough work into my lessons—I didn’t think for a second I could make any money out of it, and that’s all that concerned me at the time—so it just became a hobby. After I left school, I used to go out in the dead of night with a crew and paint or spray the walls of public buildings with my pictures as a kind of release from the boredom of my existence. Art helped me channel the rage I felt that I didn’t feel able to express in words.’
Jess experienced a swell of outrage for him. ‘I can’t believe no one at the school realised you needed more help and support.’
Lessons in Rule-Breaking Page 9