Probably the Best Kiss in the World

by Pernille Hughes

  Jen looked around the room, eyes settling on the flowers Max had moved. “A bucket. Like a small beach bucket. Something for everyone then.”

  “Perfect,” said Alice, making a note to source buckets.

  The bell at the door tinkled and a customer came in needing Alice’s attention, so Jen made her excuses and left, trying not to obviously skip, delighted as she was with her new deal.

  A car was parked outside her workshop. That in itself was not unusual, people blocked the access all the time. But this was a black Audi she recognised. The owner leaning against it, checking his phone, was also a giveaway. Seeing him, combined with the skipping thing, made her come to a grinding halt as the dopey grin spread across her face. He looked up at the bang of the door behind her.

  “Hello again,” he said. God how she loved those words. Today was just getting better and better.

  “Hello again.” He held out a hand to her which she took, before reeling her in towards him. Not being averse to such a direction, Jen found herself standing against him. Yakob blinked at her, before ducking his head slightly with a tilt and placing a long slow kiss on her lips, irrevocably convincing her of the newfound delights of PDAs.

  “What are you doing here, Yakob?” Jen asked. She supposed she should ask him how he found her, but there weren’t many arches in town. He’d seen the picture and you only had to follow the railway.

  “Having a late lunch break,” he said, wrapping his arms properly around her waist now, making her sigh.

  “I seem to remember you work about an hour away. Wouldn’t that lunch break be over just getting here?”

  “Hmm, probably,” he murmured, stealing another kiss, sliding a hand up her back. He could do that any day of the week she decided, barely keeping hold of the moan threatening to escape her. “I’m jet-lagged and don’t know what time it is, but I had lots of lunch meetings last week, so I’m due an afternoon off.” The whole afternoon. In spite of the volatile start this was now, officially, a good day.

  “How was Sydney?” she managed, his lips back on her.

  “Successful but exhausting.”

  She pulled away to look at him. “Too exhausting to help me out in there? I’ve got a long list of things to do.”

  A very wolfish smile met her. “Me too.” Oh. She sank a gulp and clenched her thighs.

  “You’d–” she stopped to clear her throat again as it was rather claggy, “you’d better come in and have a look then.” She didn’t know if his list was best covered inside or back at home, but the sooner she’d given him the tour, shown him his tanks in situ, the sooner they could get down to it. Down to things. The jobs. Oh whatever.

  Aware her heart rate was belting along, she reluctantly stepped away, delving into her pocket for the keys. “How did you know I’d be here? Not that I’m complaining.”

  “I was going to surprise you at your office, but got lost. I passed these arches and recognised them, so stopped to check my phone map. And then here you are.”

  “As if by magic,” she trilled, thankful for so much, not least that he hadn’t showed up at work. That had Catastrophe written all over it.

  “And why aren’t you at work?” he asked. Jen headed for the workshop door, trying to work out what to say, in the end deciding she’d rather he knew the truth.

  “Long story.” This time it was more of a resigned sigh. “Bullet point; I lost my job today. Irreconcilable differences just about covers it.” She looked back at him. He was still leaning on the car, hands in pockets now, one eyebrow keenly arched. “It’s a really boring story, but it’s all good, as now I can focus on The Passion, can’t I?” She sent him what she hoped was a seductive smile, and then added a cheeky wink, then worried it was too much and it’d looked like she was having a facial seizure. Moving things on, she prompted, “Speaking of passion…”

  Thankfully he twigged quickly and immediately stood to follow. Game on. Jen rammed the key into the lock, then spent a frantic moment trying the get it to turn smoothly. She’d be WD40-ing that first thing tomorrow. Finally it turned, as did she, to see where he was, just as a large beige car pulled up to a screeching halt.

  The window lowered.

  “Jen darling sweetie, I thought it was you,” Celia called loudly from the driver’s seat. Her outdoor voice sounded like a parody of the Queen. The floral headscarf, quilted jacket and Range Rover completed the homage. Jen felt her entire insides contract in dismay. Not now. Please not now. “Darling, I’m so glad I’ve seen you. Saves me phoning.” Celia’s eyes flickered to Yakob, then back to Jen disregarding him as of no consequence to her errand. “I know you’re still considering wearing your mother’s dress, but speaking from vast experience, a girl needs choices when it come to her wedding dress. I’ve taken the liberty of booking you a bridal fitting this weekend.”

  Not knowing where to look, Jen glanced at the roof tops. Where were the snipers when you needed one?

  Chapter 30

  The workshop had never felt so silent, even though there were two of them in there. Yakob was examining the tanks in their pride of place, as she entered, but his movements were unsettled and his hair was more mussed than before. She’d let him in so she could talk to Celia. There was a conversation she didn’t want to relive, telling your not-to-be mother-in-law what her son had failed to convey. Celia had presented four of the five stages of grief (“acceptance” being a far-off thing) within the span of five minutes, before crossly putting the car into reverse and insisting she was going to sort this with Robert. Jen had the distinct impression Celia truly believed she had some say in this.

  Still, it was at least a conversation she’d known how to handle, as opposed to this one, which had her trying out various openers in her head, none of which were acceptable.

  Eventually she went with a simple “I’m sorry.”

  He faced her, hands in pockets. His expression was inscrutable, but his cornflower eyes had lost their sparkle.

  “Sorry you’re getting married? Or sorry you got caught out?” His voice was measured, but he swallowed deeply before speaking and Jen sensed he was keeping a tight rein on his feelings.

  “No,” she said clearly, walking towards him, but halting a little way off. “Neither of those. I’m sorry you were put at a disadvantage like that.” And she truly was. That must have been hurtful and humiliating, neither of which she would ever have wished to cause him.

  At first he didn’t quite know what to do with that, then his expression hardened. “So what was this? A distraction, a laugh? Something you do regularly? I didn’t have you down as a liar, Jen. I’ve met my share, but you had me completely fooled.” His voice was less than measured now, angry in fact and Jen noticed his eyes skitter to the door assessing whether simply to leave. Instinctively she took a step to the side, blocking his way. She understood his anger. She couldn’t imagine a scenario where this would look good. And yes, he’d told her before he’d been burned by dishonesty, so his reaction was even more justified. She’d been fooled once and she knew how that felt. The panicking side of her brain was scrabbling around for anything it could think of to appease him, but thankfully the more sensible side, the one she brought to confrontational business meetings, deemed that if she hoped to rectify this, the only chance of quenching his anger and disappointment – because that was written all over his face too – would be with absolute honesty.

  She took a deep breath and drew herself up for the full confession he deserved. “I was engaged. Until yesterday evening. Robert, my ex, has apparently yet to inform his family. I thought it was best coming from him.”

  Jen faced an agonising wait as Yakob scrutinised her face for any tells. She didn’t flinch. He had to take the time he needed. His hands remained firmly stuffed in his pockets, his body language rigid and defensive. Finally, just as she was about to abandon her resolve and succumb to the panic which wanted to beg his forgiveness in a pitiful show, he came to some conclusion and gave her a chink of respite. His curt nod s
aid he understood, but his expression remained passive and his body remained several meters away from hers.

  “You should have told me. Maybe in Copenhagen for example.” His tone was still abrasive. He would still be thinking she was an unfaithful skank, she reasoned. Fair enough. She’d have to ride out his questioning and just pray by the end he could see this was a case of circumstance rather than malice.

  “I didn’t think anything was afoot in Copenhagen, Yakob. We’d just met. You kissed me as we were parting and it knocked me for six.” Jen’s heart was beating a full military tattoo in her chest as she exposed her feelings and hoped it was enough. Having him angry with her was excruciating.

  A small smile twitched on his mouth and the relief was almost too much. She held it together though, knowing she was far from out of the woods.

  “You could have mentioned it when I stayed over? I seem to remember you giving me a hard time for withholding information.” He rocked on his heels, and then took a couple of steps closer which she took as encouraging. He wasn’t storming off and she was taking the wins where she could.

  “Hand on heart, Yakob, the only thing I had in my head that entire day – and night – was you. I only remembered the engagement after you’d left and it had me reeling. I felt so dreadful – towards all parties. That’s not the kind of person I am. You don’t know me well enough to take my word for it, but Lydia is my witness. I was beside myself.”

  “With guilt?”

  “Partly,” she readily admitted, and his eyebrows rose in surprise at her candour. She knew she was on the right track with the honesty though, whether it appeared ballsy or not; it was the only way she could show him she wasn’t dishonest like previous women he’d met. “Robert’s a decent guy. He deserves to be treated decently, and I don’t think I did.” She wasn’t proud of it.

  He moved closer to her, so they stood nigh-on toe to toe. His voice was low. “You said ‘partly’?”

  Their close proximity warranted nothing but the truth. More to the point, Jen was fast learning she had no desire to tell him anything but the truth. His enthusiasm, his support was what was giving her fledgling ambition its wings. In spite of the recent events in her life, she felt she was sailing on his belief in her, that it was underpinning her passion. To protect all that she wanted it wrapped in trust and truth.

  Yes, she should have mentioned being on her hen-do in Copenhagen, she supposed other hens might have been shouting it from the rooftops. But something in her had kept it back, even if it wasn’t deliberate. In hindsight, perhaps that should have told her something earlier.

  The image she had most clearly from that trip, was Yakob sitting on his deck, palms up, saying ‘this is me’. She knew how it had made her feel then, how it was the honesty she craved and how she wanted to meet that honesty now, not just to convince him to trust her, but to satisfy her own need to lay herself completely bare to him. “Well the other part, which had me terrified,” she began slowly, her low tone matching his, not quite able to look him in the face, “was that I couldn’t hide from the fact I have feelings – for you – that I’m not used to, and I’m not in control of.” He stepped a little closer and taking a hand from his pocket gently trailed his fingertip from her ear along her jaw. Jen sank a deep gulp as her nose was enveloped in his scent, barely managing not to lean closer to take a long hard sniff of his lemony piney sageyness.

  “What kind of feelings, Jen?” His tone was still low, but firm; he wasn’t letting her out of this until she’d told him everything he needed to hear. It was seductive. The heady feeling had her tongue tied. “Tell me. What feelings?”

  Well, she didn’t know what to call them. At least not by any name she’d used before. But she knew what they felt like.

  She raised her eyes to his. “Feelings that make me think about you constantly. All. The. Bloody. Time. Feelings that make you the first person I want to share news with. Feelings that are not conducive to marrying another man. Feelings I definitely didn’t have for that other man and which I’ve only recently realised I should have had. Feelings that have me wanting to do this constantly.” She tipped her chin slowly upwards, so her lips were within a hair’s breadth of his. Then she rose up on her toes and made the connection, praying he wouldn’t pull away.

  Some prayers get answered.

  Jen had always been circumspect about the term “one thing led to another”, but this and her last encounter with Yakob was changing that. Things just seemed to flow between them. There was no awkwardness, no bumping noses pre-kiss, or heads, or elbowing the other in the boob or things like that which Jen could attest to being totally possible. They shared a sense of timing and awareness of the other, their pace was keenly matched and simply, one thing did lead to another. They naturally gravitated from the middle of the workshop floor to the wall behind the tanks, Yakob caging her in with his hands against the wall, while hers were entangled in his hair.

  “This is all I’ve thought about since I last saw you,” he growled between their kisses. She already had a sweat on from his earlier grilling, but this was sending her skin into overdrive.

  “Pff. You’ve been in meetings the last week,” she rasped out, lifting her jaw for him to continue down her neck. What a fibber. Not that it mattered. She liked hearing it.

  “I didn’t hear a word the managers said. I was embarrassingly useless. I might have single-handedly dropped the share-price,” he murmured against her skin. Business talk was surprisingly sexy. Share-price was particularly tingly. She’d put money on Presentation being a good one too. It was getting her hot. Hotter. Could she ask him to describe an Excel sheet? Not yet. Too soon.

  “Keep going,” she groaned, her fingers now beginning to tackle his shirt buttons. She had a faint idea where this was heading and the idea had her blood rushing. Christening the brewery hadn’t even been on her to-do list, which just went to show the naysayers that she could be spontaneous. Yakob pressed himself further against her body. Oh yeah, now she definitely knew where this was going. And without being the one to take control or steer this, Jen was happy to go with the flow of her emotions and desire. Right now, she wanted this. She wanted the spontaneity and embracing the passion. She trusted him to be the guide in this moment. This was him, so now this was her. She’d already exposed her feelings, she was ready to do so with the rest. She slid her hands inside the shirt, stroking his side and to the front, where her fingertips came to rest at his belt buckle. His fingers took their marks at her bra clasp. His eyes drew to hers and they took a moment before they came to a clear easy agreement. Go, go, go!

  The door banged open at the street end of the workshop.

  “Jen! We’ve bloody found him,” Alice shouted into the room. “PanFlora came back to me with his name and guess what, it’s spelled with a J.”

  Behind the tank, Jen and Yakob froze, eyes fixed again on each other, only this time with dismay as opposed to lust. Quickly, deftly, they redid buttons and buckles and righted hoiked garments.

  “Jen?” Max’s voice. Oh bum, it was both of them. Holding his arms, then giving the biceps a gratuitous squeeze, because oh man, Jen turned them so he was against the wall.

  “I’ll get rid of them,” she mouthed and letting go, stepped out to face her guests. Yakob obviously wasn’t convinced. He looked worried, which she found both cute and flattering. His lovely eyes seemed to be pleading with her. Well, she’d heard erections could be painful if left, poor guy. Speed was obviously of the essence. She’d do what she could.

  “S’up, guys?” she asked, nice and blithe, hoping she didn’t look too dishevelled. There was nothing to look guilty about, it was totally feasible she’d been busy behind the tanks.

  Max had some sheets of paper in her hand. Alice took some steps towards her, and Jen hurried forward to head her off, lest Yakob’s hiding place be revealed.

  “You’ve been Googling the wrong name, Jen,” Alice said, thoroughly delighted with herself. “Or rather, right name, wrong spelling.
Yakob Yule, right? Danes pronounce a J as ‘Y’ apparently. Who knew? Anyways, it’s written Jakob Juul.”

  Foreplay-dazed while trying to be deceptive at the same time, it took Jen some moments to suss what Alice was on about. Max stepped in, holding the papers in front of her face. “We searched for him under the correct spelling. Google lit up like a bloody Christmas tree. Thousands of hits. You’ll never guess–”

  Alice couldn’t keep it in anymore. “Jakob’s a Kronegaard, Jen!”

  Chapter 31

  Jen’s brain wasn’t properly computing what Alice was saying, but then Max put the papers in her hand and suddenly she was seeing headlines about beer-heirs and playboy high-jinks and pals with royalty, all of them illustrated with pictures of Jakob Krone-Juul’s face, either beautifully kempt in official photographs (he was godfather to a baby prince apparently) or poorly dodging the paps with a baseball cap and stubble-beard. She felt like she was having an out-of-body experience. It wasn’t pleasant.

  “You OK, Jen?” Alice asked placing her hand on Jen’s forearm.

  Sitting down seemed like a good plan, but chairs hadn’t made it into the building yet. She’d made do with an upturned bucket so far.

  Jen saw their eyes flick to behind her, and their jaws simultaneously form into identical O’s. It might have been comical, but Jen had lost all capacity for humour. Turning to follow their focus, Jen saw Jakob had stepped out from behind the furthest tank. He had both hands in his pockets, and his mouth was pulled up to one side. His eyes were firmly fixed on Jen and what she might do next. Good question.

  Turning back to her friends, Jen found them looking sheepish. Max reached out to retrieve the papers, but Jen clutched them to her with a brisk shake of her head. Max backed off sharpish, and spun Alice towards the door.

  “I’ve just remembered that thing we forgot, babe,” she said, propelling Alice out of the building at lightning speed, Alice still questioning “What thing?”