Jack paused, hearing the helplessness in her voice. He turned to her, attempting a small smile. He tucked a tendril of messy auburn curls behind her ear and took her hands.
‘I need to check on how our National horse is,’ he said.
Pippa let herself be pulled towards him. He kissed her lightly on the lips.
‘I’ll call you later, give you an update.’
She pasted a smile on her face, aware that it wasn’t reaching her eyes.
‘Okay. I’ll speak to you later.’
Jack dropped her hands. Opening the door, he stepped out into the sunshine and strode over to his Land Rover.
Pippa leaned against the doorframe and watched him go. She raised a hand in farewell as he started up the engine and pulled away. The cool breeze teased her skin and she wrapped her dressing gown tighter around her. She gazed at the empty driveway, her thoughts in turmoil. Foremost was the hurt of her uncertainty over his departure. Yet every few moments she felt overwhelmed with joy by what they had shared the night before. Hefting herself away from the door and pulling it shut, she drifted through the house in a daze. A smile warmed her face as she poured herself some coffee.
‘You just slept with Jack,’ she murmured to herself. She shook her head in disbelief and blew over her mug. ‘Jack.’
By mid-afternoon, Pippa was beginning to get restless. She frowned at the canvas in front of her and tried to inject some life into the landscape she was painting. The magic just wasn’t flowing, not when she was so preoccupied. She dabbed some lime green across the line of trees, but sat up alertly as she heard her mobile phone ringing downstairs.
Throwing the brush into the muddy water jar, she hurtled out of the room and down the stairs. She paused to catch her breath and control her excitement when she reached the kitchen. Jack had certainly taken his time about calling her, but she was determined to act as nonchalant as possible. She pulled a face when she didn’t recognise the number on the screen. It might have been his home number.
‘Hello?’
‘Hello. Am I speaking to Pippa Taylor?’ a woman asked.
Pippa’s heart sagged. Not Jack then.
‘Yes,’ she said, trying not to sound too disappointed.
‘Ah, wonderful. Hello, Pippa. My name is Deidre Forrester.’
Pippa frowned at the vaguely familiar name.
‘I’m with Kings Art Galleries.’
Pippa placed the name as soon as the woman explained. Her eyes widened. King Art Galleries had about half a dozen galleries around the country. Pippa had been a regular window-shopper at their snazzy London branch, but had never had the guts to approach the management with her own art.
‘How can I help you?’ she choked out at last.
‘We have an exhibition coming up in about a month’s time and your name was suggested to us by one of our most loyal clients. We thought maybe you might be interested in showing some of your work.’
Pippa’s heart stilled then palpitated in what felt like a samba beat.
‘An exhibition? Where?’
‘Our Piccadilly gallery.’
Her jaw dropped and she steadied herself against the windowsill.
‘Really?’
‘Would you be interested?’ Deidre said with a smile in her voice.
Pippa nodded furiously and tried to pull herself together. She realised Deidre Forrester couldn’t see her nodding.
‘Absolutely. That would be fantastic.’ She paused as another thought struck her. ‘How did you – I mean, I’ve done a few commissions as well as my own stuff, but... how did you hear about me? I’m not exactly Banksy.’
The woman laughed.
‘One of your commission clients got in touch with us.’
Pippa glowed. She could forgive Jack’s silence if this was what he’d been doing today.
‘Who?’
‘Aaron Janssen. I’ve seen a couple of paintings which you did of his horses. Lovely pieces.’
Pippa’s sense of elation deflated at the mention of the fashion mogul’s name.
‘Oh. Thank you.’
‘My husband has racehorses too. I’m sure he’d appreciate your work as well. Is equestrian art your forte or do you do other stuff like landscapes and fine art?’
‘I – um – I paint landscapes as well.’ She flapped an indifferent hand as she tried to regain her concentration.
‘Splendid. Would you be able to send me some digital photos of some more of your work? The exhibition is in a month’s time and we’re asking our artists to provide up to six pieces to go on display. Does that sound like something you could manage?’
‘Er – can I get back to you on that one?’ Pippa said.
‘Of course. No problem. I have your email address here as well, courtesy of Mr Janssen so I’ll send you the contract conditions and you just let me know within the next week. Is that okay?’
Pippa swallowed.
‘Yes, that’s fine. Thank you for – um – this opportunity.’
Pippa sat, limply holding her phone in her lap after Deidre Forrester rung off. She groaned and let her head fall back. She looked at her phone in bewilderment. Had she really received an offer from one of London’s most fashionable art galleries and she’d told them she’d have to think about it? But now that she knew about Aaron Janssen’s less than attractive marketing exploits, did she really want to accept his help?
She noticed a text message on the screen of her phone which had come through at lunchtime.
Peace Offering fine after yesterday. See you tomorrow. Jack
Pippa felt like she’d just been punched in the gut. A text message? After a night like last night, and all she got was a text message? She wanted to cry. She wanted to shout at Jack and slap some sense into him. She wanted to cry even more – what sense would that be exactly? The same sense that had provoked her to sleep with her boss?
She flicked through her numbers and dialled.
‘Hey, sweets!’ Tash answered. ‘Tried to ring you last night, but couldn’t get through. You okay?’
‘Mm-hmm,’ Pippa mumbled.
‘Oh, dear, that doesn’t sound good. Are Finn and Peace Offering okay after yesterday? Fucking hell, Pip, you were so close. I made the CEO allow us quarter of an hour to watch it. If that bastard horse hadn’t run in front of him, you would have won.’
‘Yeah, I know. They’re both fine.’ She thought of Jack’s text, still smarting in her chest, and sighed.
‘Okay than,’ Tash said, sounding intrigued. ‘Hang on, let me just pop to the loos for some privacy. I’m still at bloody work, can you believe it... Right, here we are. What’s eating you?’
Pippa pulled a face.
‘Um, well, you’re not going to believe this, but –’
‘Oh, my God!’ yelled Tash. ‘No way! You slept with Jack, didn’t you?’
Pippa took her phone away from her ear to look at it, Tash’s Indian hollers coming through very loud and extremely clear.
‘How could you tell?’
‘Oh, my God!’ Tash squealed. ‘Seriously? Well done, Pippa! Tell me what happened!’
Despite herself, Pippa smiled at Tash’s enthusiasm.
‘He took me home after the National and stayed for dinner. Then he tried to go home, but the road was flooded so he stayed. And... well, you know what comes next.’
‘Pippa Taylor, you saucy minx,’ Tash goaded. ‘You just bedded one of the sexiest men in Britain. Was it worth the wait?’
Pippa forced herself to breathe as she relived last night.
‘Yes,’ she sighed. ‘It was like – like – like heaven. But not just physically. It felt so complete. Like we were two halves making a whole. I don’t know, it’s difficult to explain. I’ve never had sex like it before.’
Tash was silent for a moment.
‘Bloody hell,’ she drawled. ‘I think the reason you’ve never had sex like that before, Pip, is because you and Jack weren’t having sex. I think you just made love for the first time.’
/>
Tears stung her eyes and she brushed them away with her palm.
‘You think?’
‘Oh, yeah.’
Pippa sighed.
‘Maybe I did. But Jack... I don’t know. It’s just this morning...’ she tailed off.
‘What do you mean? What happened this morning?’
‘He couldn’t get out of here fast enough. Wouldn’t even stop for a coffee. He was out of my bed and out of the front door in less than two minutes.’
‘Was he late for anything?’
‘Just work. But it’s Sunday. Everything at the stables slows down on a Sunday. He could’ve taken ten minutes to have a coffee and not made me feel like a – like a –’
‘Oh, Pip. I’m sorry,’ Tash said. ‘Maybe you need to give him a bit of time to get used to the idea. He is Jack, after all.’
‘He said he’d call me later. Now I’ve just found he sent me a text saying Peace Offering’s fine and he’ll see me tomorrow.’
‘Ouch. Okay, this is definitely Jack we’re dealing with here. I mean, let’s look at this logically. Can you honestly see him rolling over in the morning and acting like a honeymooner?’
‘No, I guess not,’ Pippa conceded. ‘Would’ve been nice though if he had.’
‘He just needs time.’
‘I don’t know, Tash. He was always so against relationships in the workplace. Now he’s gone and done the exact same thing. He’s not going to want anything to do with me while I’m his secretary.’
‘You could quit,’ Tash suggested.
‘I guess so – no, I don’t know. I couldn’t do that. I need to work.’
‘You are working though. You’ve got about a dozen commissions lined up, haven’t you?’
‘Oh, God. That’s the next thing!’ Pippa exclaimed.
‘What next thing? Tell me!’
‘I got a call from Kings Art Galleries wanting me to take part in an exhibition they’ve got coming up.’
‘I don’t who they are, but that’s great, Pippa! See? It’s all good. What did you tell them?’
‘I said I’d think about it and thanked them for the opportunity.’
Thanked them for the opportunity? Have you been watching The Apprentice or something?’
Pippa chuckled.
‘No, it’s just that I was given the offer compliments of Aaron Janssen.’
‘And? That’s a good thing surely?’
Pippa gasped.
‘Fuck! You don’t know, do you?’
‘Know what?’
‘When was the last time I spoke to you?’
‘A couple of days ago, I don’t know. Tell me about Aaron Janssen!’
‘Wow, how can so much have happened in so short a time?’ Pippa marvelled.
‘Pippa, you’re killing me here!’ Tash cried.
‘Oh, God, you have to promise not to tell anyone. Okay?’
‘Hand on heart. Now spill!’
Chapter Forty-Three
Pippa didn’t know if she’d ever been more nervous stepping into the office the following morning. Excitement, fear and dread whirlpooled around her stomach. Emmie was already sat at her new desk, which had been bought to accommodate her.
‘Hey, Pippa,’ she smiled. ‘Bad luck on Saturday. He came so close.’
‘Thanks,’ she replied. She dumped her handbag beside her desk and sat down. ‘It was one hell of a race.’ She drummed her fingers on the desk and glanced at Jack’s closed office door. ‘Is Jack in?’
‘No. He popped out about ten minutes ago. Said that if you came in, entries and decs are on his desk and to help yourself.’
Pippa’s heart began to thud at the prospect of seeing Jack again. She thanked Emmie and walked over to Jack’s door. Nothing was different on the other side. It looked exactly the same as it had last week, except altered by the weekend.
She closed her eyes as she reached the desk and took a deep breath. Leather, wood polish and the lingering tang of Jack’s cologne tingled in her nostrils. She picked up the notebook and flicked it open to the last entry. A small smile of anticipation flitted over her mouth as she remembered how Jack had left a private note in there for her before.
12th April – Entries
Haydock 1.20 – Bold Phoenix
“ 3.10 – Smoking Ace
Declarations
Wincanton 4.05 – Spurwing Island (blinkers)
Pippa’s smile drooped. The page was glaringly void of any loving messages. She snorted mirthlessly. What was she expecting – Jack to declare his undying love to her as well as Spurwing Island in the 4.05 at Wincanton?
With a deep breath, she drew back her shoulders. She was not going to let this get to her. She sauntered out of the office with her chin held high and sat down at her desk. She was going to be the epitome of aloofness. When Jack appeared, he’d better be prepared because she was going to show him just how indifferent a girl could be.
The door opened and Jack walked in.
Pippa dropped her pen then hit her head on the desk trying to retrieve it off the floor. Jack’s gaze flickered from Pippa to Emmie and back again. He nodded a greeting to her.
‘Morning, Pippa.’
She stared at him. Jack Carmichael, boss of Aspen Valley had walked into the office, sporting his usual outfit of jeans and flying jacket. Pippa’s face burned. She blinked. She couldn’t rid herself of the image of Jack Carmichael, sex god and lover, sporting somewhat less clothing than he had on now.
‘He-hello, Jack.’
The muscle in Jack’s jaw throbbed as they stared at each other. Jack blinked and looked away.
‘I’ll be in my office if either of you need me,’ he muttered.
Pippa’s heart hammered against her chest. Her clammy palm slipped over her computer mouse. She wondered if this was what it felt like before one fainted. She hazarded a quick look at Emmie to see if she’d noticed anything amiss, but the girl looked blissfully unaware of the sexual frisson that had almost singed the office furniture.
Emmie smiled at her.
‘Well?’ she prompted.
‘Well, what?’
‘Usually, as soon as Jack walks in, you jump up and make him a drink. Do you want me to go make it?’
Pippa thought fast. She wanted to see Jack, but she didn’t want to be faced with the awkwardness. She didn’t want Emmie to think anything odd yet asking her to make coffee would immediately raise questions.
She shook her head.
‘No, no. I’ll go do it. Just slipped my mind. Do you want a cup?’
‘I bought some peppermint tea if you wouldn’t mind making me some of that?’
‘Sure,’ Pippa smiled. She got to her feet then braced herself against the chair as her knees offered as much support as a papier-mâché bridge crane.
Aloofness, remember Pippa, she scolded herself. Aloof, aloof, aloof.
Who the hell came up with that stupid word, she thought to herself a couple of minutes later as she knocked on Jack’s door. When you said it often enough, it started to sound quite ridiculous.
‘Come in.’
Jack’s gruff invitation shuddered through her. Pushing open the door, she stepped into the office feeling like she was about to meet her maker.
‘Tea,’ she announced.
‘Thank you. Um, close the door behind you, will you?’
Pippa’s pulse stepped up to pneumatic dimensions as she did as she was bid.
‘How are you?’ Jack ventured.
‘Good, thanks,’ she nodded vigorously. ‘You?’
Jack licked his lips and watched her place his drink down on the desk. The liquid shimmied out of the cup.
‘Yes, fine.’
He frowned at his desk as a silence descended. Pippa wrung her hands behind her back and wiggled her toes.
‘You got my message yesterday?’
Pippa nodded.
‘Yes. Peace Offering’s okay, is he?’
‘A little stiff, but okay.’
Another deafenin
g silence ensued.
‘Well, I’d better get back,’ Pippa said, motioning behind her.
‘Yes, of course.’
Deflated, Pippa turned to leave.
‘Pippa?’
‘Yes?’ She spun round to face him.
‘We need to talk –’
Fear constricted her chest.
‘– about Peace Offering.’
She exhaled, not sure whether to be relieved that he was avoiding the most pressing subject on her mind or not.
‘Okay,’ she said.
‘I think after Saturday’s run, now would be a good time for him to be turned out. I think we should take him out of training and wait for next season.’
Pippa nodded.
‘Okay,’ she agreed. She managed a smile. ‘Go out on a high note... almost.’
‘Yes. The season’s nearly over anyway.’
With those words, Pippa’s heart sank to a new level. The season ending would also mark the ending of her country life adventure. The office telephone trilled from beyond the door as once more they lapsed into silence.
‘I’d better get that.’
Jack nodded, his expression grim.
Pippa tore herself away and hurried out of the office. Emmie had already answered the phone. She sat down again at her desk and tried to quell the emotions battering her body like a storm breaker.
How could things possibly progress with Jack? She dragged her fingers through her hair. Her hopes that his awkwardness might abate died an agonising death. Yet how could she blame him when she wasn’t the image of grace and dexterity?
With a sigh, she opened up a new window on her screen and set about inputting that week’s entries.
At lunchtime, Pippa escaped to the kitchenette to make her and Emmie hot drinks.
‘What are you oohing and aahing about over there?’ she said as she placed Emmie’s cup down on her desk.
Emmie looked up from her computer and sheepishly turned the screen so Pippa could see.
‘House hunting,’ she replied. ‘There’re some lovely places up for sale, but so out of our price range. I think we’re going to end up renting.’
Pippa leaned against the desk, contemplatively sipping her coffee.
‘Hazyvale is going to be put up on the market pretty soon,’ she said.
Keeping the Peace Page 37