by Jane Linfoot
His lips curved into another teasing beam. ‘You’re going to have to look at me more sweetly than that, or they’ll think we’re having a lovers’ tiff.’
She tried to blank how irresistible he looked when he smiled like that. Irresistible? She had to be off her head to think that, when she had a hundred reasons to resist. a) He wasn’t what she wanted, b) she knew after that other night with Xander that flings only flung her into total confusion, and she wasn’t having any more of those, c) he’d told her he didn’t want her, and when someone’s rubbed your nose in it like that, you don’t go there again, d) he was way out of her league, e)… She could go on all day, but now she needed to concentrate on picking out towels.
She sped up the stairs, focussed on the mental mood board she was building up for Christina’s barn – vibrant pink petunias in the planters around the pool, colours from the quilt she’d found yesterday, a sludgy green watering can she’d picked up this morning – headed for the towel stacks, and honed straight in on the fuchsia.
She was still furious, with Xander for his teasing, still kicking herself, for wanting him when she should know better, but she forced her voice to be light, when five minutes later, she put her hands on the perfect towels.
‘How would pistachio and cerise look against the cream pool loungers?’
‘Pistachio and cerise?’ Xander arrived at her elbow, suspiciously acting like a lamb now. ‘Any chance you could translate that into English?’
Here we go again. Izzy was trying to limit the eye rolls, but she did one anyway.
‘Pale mint green and bright pink?’ She picked up some towels to avoid further confusion, and waved them at him.
‘Great, yes, they’ll look brilliant.’ His broad grin wavered into a grimace. ‘Shit, I don’t believe I actually got that enthusiastic about towels. I think what I should be saying is I don’t give a damn, now can we go home please?’
52
Saturday Afternoon, 12th July
XANDER & IZZY
At Christina’s, Les Cerisiers, France
Large doors and stone walls
Izzy rubbed her forehead with her knuckle, inadvertently smearing the sweat and the dirt into streaks, as she surveyed their work in progress. ‘It’s always amazing how a few pretty things can make a place so different isn’t it? It already feels less stark in here.’
Xander stood back himself, and took in the changes in the vast living area, which opened straight onto the sun drenched garden.
‘You know I’m not a fan of old stuff, but I reckon you’ve nailed it here.’ Even he had to admit she knew how to transform a room into a home, although somehow he had a feeling it had less to do with the actual material things and a lot more to do with her. The way she rushed around, with her swearing and bubble gum and messy hair, brought the whole place to life instantaneously.
‘Even those two ancient milk churns are looking great.’ Seeing them here, he couldn’t believe he’d given her such a hard time about those when she’d bought them, and neither could she, judging from her one raised eyebrow and full on glare.
‘It helps that they’re full of flowers.’ At least she conceded that much. ‘Agricultural really works here, and the features are wonderful.’ She propped the ancient hay ladder she was carrying up against the exposed stone wall.
Although he was used to working non-stop, Xander had to admit that Izzy’s work ethic was something else.
‘It might be a barn but you do realise you can’t reinstate the animals.’ He threw that in and waited for her reaction, which turned out to be one finger, waved at him. ‘Someone’s got to curb your wilder ideas, I’m happy to take the job. Anyway, isn’t it time we had that swim I keep talking about?’
‘Later maybe.’ And from the scrunch of her nose, he’d take that as yet another flat refusal.
He shrugged. ‘Bit of a waste, to have a pool and not get the benefit.’
He hoped he sounded less obsessed about this than he felt. Cold logic told him that swimming would be scarily dangerous territory, but the lust side of his brain over rode the logical every time. What’s more, his caveman head had taken the delicious recurring image of her, stretched out naked after sex, head dangling over the edge of the sofa, hair hanging down to the floor, and photoshopped it onto a sun lounger. In real life there would obviously be a bikini, but, whatever, the opportunity was too good to miss, even if he wasn’t allowed to touch.
She gave that comment the attention it deserved, by marching out. Definitely big on the non verbal signals this afternoon then, whereas earlier she’d returned all his jibes, which began with payback for the shorts, getting more suggestive every time.
Izzy was definitely a fighter. However far he pushed her, she refused to back off, but what started as barbed fun had run away with him. He had an idea what the problem was, that lately around Izzy his dick was over ruling his rational thought process. But at the same time, what the hell was wrong with him? Two weeks ago, he’d been a sour and determined loner, this afternoon he’d been happily playing at wedding lists – albeit to take the piss wildly, but still.
Throughout his last eight wasteland years, Christina had maintained that all he needed was to meet the right girl, and he’d come right to heel. As for his sister’s horribly smug grin, and her cringey “Izzy makes you smile” comment – as far as he was concerned she could stuff those particular hopes, and take her interference with them.
‘So today’s about instant changes, I’m saving the painting until later.’ Izzy was back. Wafting through with yet another bucket and half the garden, her lips curling into a smile that was definitely more for herself, than for him. She turned to him, with a teasing stare. ‘It won’t be long before you’re doing this in your house in Bakewell will it? Making it pretty before you move in.’
That was a sore point, or it would be when Christina heard about it.
‘Actually the agent rang before to tell me he’s finalised a let on that place. There was a bit of a bidding war, before it even hit the market, and someone made an offer that was too good to miss.’ Which may also account for his good mood these past couple of weeks.
So that was that. Another potential home that had come and gone, all wrapped up, without him ever having spent a night there.
Izzy wrinkled her nose in distaste. ‘I pity the person who has to get vertigo on that balcony every morning.’ She began to strip leaves off a stem. ‘It’s very spectacular, but that house was never particularly “you” was it?’ Not pulling any punches then.
Xander braced himself for whatever was coming next. ‘Meaning?’ He tilted his head, preparing to take whatever was coming on the chin. Some days it was like Izzy had taken a truth drug, and the insults just kept pouring out. He’d never admit, even to his secret self, that sometimes he actually enjoyed it. As for admitting she was ever right, that would be tantamount to treason.
‘I only mean that you didn’t really have much connection to that house. I fail to see how anyone as averse to retail as you, ended up embracing the shopping mall aesthetic so wholeheartedly. You’d never feel comfortable there.’ Said with a smile, but a bit damning, even for Izzy.
He paused a second, to regroup. ‘Thank you to our architecture correspondent and resident psychologist.’ He definitely wasn’t about to admit she might have a point.
The architects hadn’t stinted on the wow factor, which had proved to be exceptionally commercial, and therefore a good call. But however he enthused about it publicly, in reality, the vast spaces there left him cold, even if they did have a lighting scheme large enough to illuminate a small city.
Izzy’s tone was matter of fact. ‘The Pink House suits you way better.’
‘Sorry?’ Xander blinked. That was the last thing he expected to hear.
She gave a shrug. ‘You look like you belong there, that’s all. You should definitely move into that instead.’ She gave a satisfied grin, as she wiped the table. ‘Sorry, I’m only stating the bleedin’ obvious.�
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‘Right.’ He shook his head. ‘Thanks for that insight.’ Out of the question, for every reason he could think of. He didn’t want to move into any house, especially not that one, and why would he need a home, when he’d managed just fine for the last eight years without one. He was glad the subject was closed.
Except if he thought Izzy had finished, he was wrong.
She screwed round on him with another glare that bored right into him. ‘If you’re too short sighted to see it, and too stubborn to do it, you might need someone to knock some sense into that thick head of yours.’ Only Izzy could be that rude, and get away with it, simply because she was so sincere and, more to the point, honest. Deep down he knew she had his best interests at heart, but more importantly, there wasn’t a glimmer of self interest in anything she said.
Xander’s lips twitched, as he held back his smile, and his voice rose. ‘You’re offering to hit me? Again?’
Izzy stuck her chin in the air and was about to whoosh out of the room when she jerked to a halt by a small desk, suddenly serious. ‘Hey, not meaning to be nosey, but is this you in the photo?’ Given she was peering at a small frame on the wall, nosey was the perfect description.
He made his way to the dark corner, squinted at the picture. ‘It’s Christina and me when we were kids.’ Their gawkiness made him smile.
Izzy’s breath was warm on his neck, as she huddled in for a closer look. ‘All jaw and attitude even then, I see.’ That nudge in the ribs she gave him was very close to being off limits. ‘You look very alike, apart from Christina being blonde.’ She was gently ignoring the third person in the photo. Tactful was possible for her then, even if she didn’t normally choose that route.
‘I can’t have been much more than five.’ Xander’s voice grated. ‘And that’s our mum…’ The innocent optimism of the faces in the photo, given what came later, sent a rocket of sadness through his chest.
‘It’s weird how you remember things from images in photos, isn’t it? Even in colour, it all looked kind of sepia back then, didn’t it?’ Izzy’s voice was dreamy, as she looked closer.
She did this a lot. Making random comments, as if she were coming at every subject from around the back, always taking him unawares.
He gave a half laugh. ‘Everything was kodachrome coloured before digital came along.’
‘Your mum looks so young, and so pretty.’ Izzy’s voice slipped to a whisper as soft as her hand, which fluttered across his. Just for a second. ‘She’s lovely Xander.’
It was true, she was.
The dull ache in his chest made him sigh. ‘It’s strange to think she’ll stay fifty four forever now.’ He’d never thought of that before.
‘Is that how old she was?’ Izzy’s head was almost touching his shoulder, pressing close enough for her hair to be tickling his ear.
Xander sighed. ‘Yes. She had this degenerative neurological disease, a bit like MS, but rarer. It simply wiped her out. She had her last year at The Pink House.’ It wasn’t something he often shared. Mostly people would run a mile rather than hear about it.
‘I’m so sorry.’ As her fingers slid onto his arm the warmth made his skin tingle. ‘It must have been awful.’
When she didn’t let go, he carried on. ‘It kind of crept up slowly over the years, but at the end it went very fast.’
‘Xander, your poor mum, poor you.’ Her arm was around his back, sliding around his ribs, and he closed his eyes, as she pulled him in.
Merged in the darkness, dragged against her softness, he gave into a warmth that slowly permeated, and then totally embraced him. There was nothing sexual at all, just a wonderful enveloping strength, that he wished could go on forever.
When she finally eased away, the knot in his chest had gone.
‘Oh, shit.’ She was muttering in the gloom now. ‘Talk about putting my foot in it. I’m so sorry, all that stuff about you belonging in The Pink House, I shouldn’t have said it, I wouldn’t have, not if I’d…’
‘It’s okay.’ He gave her a sideways nudge with his elbow. ‘You weren’t to know.’ He wasn’t sure when he’d ever had a hug that sustaining.
Izzy’s hands were still covering her face. ‘I’m so sorry, I’ll be more careful in future.’
Xander gave a low laugh. ‘And there’s a chance you might just be right too.’ How come the woman with the motor mouth could hit the nail on the head, without even trying? ‘Maybe I am more comfortable at The Pink House, despite all the sad stuff that happened there.’
She’d been talking about him fitting in. But what was it about her that made her fit in here, because she did? As for why he felt so complete and comfortable whenever she was around, that was something else he puzzled over endlessly. His pulse banged uncomfortably, as he watched the pale skin at the base of her neck tighten, as she leaned forward to pick up the bucket she’d put down.
He checked his watch. ‘It’s almost five. Even a slave driver like you must see it’s time for a swim by now.’ He needed to cool down, even if she didn’t. ‘No point buying pool towels, if we aren’t going to use them.’ His pent up sexual energy had to be rechanneled somehow. A thrash in the pool might ease that problem.
‘It’s hard to stop, when there’s so much to do.’ She let out a long sigh. ‘But okay, we’ll swim.’
What? He’d expected more of a fight.
He narrowed his eyes. ‘You haven’t caved because you feel sorry for me?’
From the guilt on her face that was exactly why. The grin she tried for floundered. ‘Maybe I’m just feeling cooperative.’
Izzy and cooperative didn’t belong in the same sentence.
She turned, and tossed her head. ‘Great. I’ll go and get changed, see you at the pool.’
So many thoughts crashed into Xander’s head. He wanted to tell her never to feel bad because of his mum, not to bend over, or make allowances, that there was nothing she could do, nothing any of them could do, how amazing that hug of hers had been…
But she was already half way across the courtyard.
53
Saturday Afternoon, 12th July
XANDER & IZZY
By the pool
Quick changes
When Izzy was concentrating on the house, she could largely shut Xander out of her head, but the minute she stopped, everything became more difficult. Lazing beside the pool, having his tanned, disgustingly attractive body, parading in front of her? That counted as torture in anyone’s book. Which was why she’d ripped off her clothes in the house, and had the fastest shower in the history of the world, to ensure she could grab the advantage of arriving at the pool first.
Throwing down her sarong on the smooth stone pool edge – why the hell had she chosen a bikini this small? – she slid off the side into the deep end. Diving in and losing your bikini bottoms is something you only do once in life, and Luce still howled with laughter every time she remembered Izzy doing underwater ballet impressions in Matlock pool, trying to reconnect with her knickers. Thank god she’d got that life lesson out of the way back then rather than today.
The water closed around her, deliciously chilling, after the sticky heat of the afternoon. By the time Xander appeared she was fully occupied bashing a ball around the pool, bobbing down to keep her boobs under water, having every reason to keep her eye firmly on the ball, and no reason at all to ogle any random drop-dead gorgeous power packed thighs.
‘You got here fast, considering how reluctant you were.’ Xander stood on the side, staring down at her.
Izzy tossed back her hair, with a silent curse for the straggles. Damn that there was no place to hide her freckles either, but even more of a damn at what she was staring up at. Those tanned abs, and bulges in all the right places, were way more than a girl should have to cope with in the name of work. She hoped Luce and Dida appreciated the effort she was putting in here, not to mention the mental agony she was going through. One stroke of luck, he was wearing boxer shorts. She might have expired o
n the spot if he’d been wearing speedos.
Locking her eyes onto his ankle bones seemed like a plan. If she gritted her teeth very hard, and hugged her ribs tightly, she could just about squeeze the butterflies in her stomach into submission. It wasn’t hard to think this was the same confident guy who hauled her out of the skip, and acted like he ran the world, but who would have thought the underneath of that expensive suit, and developer attitude, would be so full of pain and hurt? Back there, talking about his mum he’d looked so bereft, she’d simply wanted to wrap her arms round him, and never let go, and nothing to do with him being hot. All she’d wanted was to stop him from hurting. Getting in so close had not been ideal. Breathing in so much of his scent had left her aching for so much more, but as proximity wasn’t on offer from either side, she’d have to block that too. And there had definitely been a life lesson for her back there, about being more careful about what she said, and not shooting her mouth off in every random direction.
In fact, the more she saw of Xander, the more certain she was that she should be keeping her distance. A two mile exclusion zone would still probably be too close. His commitment aversion probably wasn’t only to do with his career and his nomadic lifestyle. The glimpses she was getting of his complex past only underlined why he wouldn’t be up for emotional complications. If any man needed an “avoid at all costs” sign hanging around his neck, it was Xander.
There was a swish as he dived into the water, and Izzy’s shoulders relaxed. At least when he was submerged there was less of him for her to swoon over. In fact he was little more than a line of splashes, as he sped through the water at the other side of the pool, flipping over as he reached each end. Ten lengths. Twenty lengths.