Pulled by a Dream

by Kathryn Greenway

  “Really?” It was something Emily had never considered. Paying for sex felt… sordid.

  Trish laughed, revealing perfect white teeth. “You seem uneasy about the concept. But when you think about it, escorts are the perfect solution.” She grinned. “It’s like hiring a car. You don’t have to tax it, insure it, clean it, worry about scratches… Just drive it as hard and as fast as you like, then hand it back at the end of the hire period. And the next time? Hire a completely different model.”

  “When you put it like that….” Emily shrugged. “I just don’t think it’s the sort of thing I could do.” That was putting it mildly. She wasn’t about to insult Trish, but to Emily’s mind, the life she’d described was lonely.

  Emily knew exactly how that felt.

  In the past, there had been a few men, but they never stuck around for long. Emily had a pretty good idea why. They liked her success, but resented the amount of time, sheer effort and hard work it took for her to maintain it. Time they obviously felt could have been better spent by paying more attention to them.

  In that moment, one thing became startlingly clear: Emily did not want to end up like Trish. She wanted to feel a connection with someone, to share goals… There had to be a man out there who wasn’t intimidated by a strong, independent woman, who wouldn’t try to change her into his version of how a woman should be.

  Trish’s words came back to her, suddenly more relevant.

  There must be more to life than this.

  Jake closed his diary with a heavy heart. No matter how many times he went over it, his finances were looking dire. There had been tentative calls about new projects; someone wanted a barn built up in Aberdeen, but that wasn’t until at least June, when they had the funds in place. And the prospect of travelling up to the north wasn’t one he relished. For one thing, it would be time away from Dad, and he had no idea what state his dad would be in by then. There had been no requests for sculptures either.

  It wasn’t just Jake that the lack of work was hurting. Ron Fielding worked with him on the barns, and having to tell him his services weren’t required had laid heavy on Jake’s heart. It was all too easy to tell himself that if he had a business site where prospective clients could see firsthand what could be achieved, things would be different. Yet he knew that was only part of it. He couldn’t keep on laying the blame for his lack of business success on Emily Darrow’s doorstep, much as he would like to. The knowledge that she was going to renovate the farmhouse filled him with bitterness.

  I can see it now. She’ll ship in all these tradesmen from London, guys who’ve worked for her company. They’ll drive down here in their fancy cars. They’ll start late and finish early. And she’ll pay them handsomely for what will probably be a second-rate job.

  Then he stopped himself. He had no right to make such assumptions. He didn’t have the first clue how Emily would proceed, but that didn’t stop him from having his suspicions.

  Change the record, Jake.

  The phone’s shrill tone pierced the peace and quiet of his living room. Jake smiled when he saw the caller. “Hey. Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, I was just calling to say I’ll be coming for lunch as usual this Sunday.” Simon paused. “Have you given any more thought to my idea?”

  Jake snickered. “Which idea are we talking about? You’re always full of them. Well, you’re full of something.”

  Simon snorted. “Ha ha. Very funny. And I’m referring to my idea of you and I taking care of Dad for a week, so Taylor can have a rest. To be honest, I’m worried about him.”

  Taylor had been on Jake’s mind too. “Yeah, I know. And yes, I’m in favor. We need to sit down with our diaries and schedule in a couple of weeks.” He huffed. “Not that I have much else in mine right now.”

  “Are things still bad?”

  “Let’s not talk about that, all right?”

  Simon whistled. “That bad, huh?” Then he fell silent. “You know what you need?”

  The hair prickled on the back of Jake’s neck. “Okay, why do I think I’m not going to like this?”

  “Because you’re a paranoid bastard, and I’m allowed to say that, because one, I’m your brother, and two, I love you. I was going to say… you need to go on a date. And I have the perfect girl in mind.”

  For some inexplicable reason, what arose in Jake’s mind was dark brown, shoulder-length wavy hair, a pair of deep brown eyes… Then he gave himself a mental shake. What the hell? Okay, so he found Emily attractive, but the perfect date?

  Jake liked his balls where they were.

  Then he thought of Serena, and his nuts shriveled to the size of raisins. “I’ve had my fill of romance, to be brutally honest.” Not that their relationship had been all bad. It had started out so well. They were close in age, had similar tastes in music and films—well, in a lot of things. The only reason Jake could come up with for the change in her, was that after a few months, Serena had apparently decided to stop being on her best behavior, and had shown her true colors. Quiet politeness had given way to sharp comments, which over time had grown sharper. What really hurt Jake was that he’d placed her on a pedestal, and she hadn’t been worthy.

  Simon’s heavy sigh filled his ear. “Jake, not everyone is like Serena, you know.”

  “I know that. But from now on, I’ll choose my own dates.” Serena had been introduced to him by a friend, and Jake wasn’t prepared to go down that road again.

  “Fair enough. Listen, I’d better let you go. I’ll see you on Sunday, okay?”

  “Sure.” Absently, Jake disconnected the call, his mind still focused on Simon’s words. Jake loved the fact that his brother was thinking of him, but he needed more than a distraction. Jake knew what he looked for in a girlfriend. Someone honest, truthful… someone he could rely on.

  Someone who would accept him as he was, with no thought of trying to mold him into something else.

  Then it struck him. He didn’t want a girlfriend—he wanted a partner.

  Chapter Fourteen

  As projects went, Emily had to admit, this wasn’t the most auspicious beginning.

  Brian Williams wasn’t available. Neither was Dermot Kennedy. Both men were top of her list of possible project managers, and to learn that both were already working on projects for other companies was a blow. The next name on her list was Duncan Barton. He was an unknown quantity: Emily hadn’t worked with him, but his name had cropped up a few times, as being a man who got things done and on time.

  That was enough for Emily. She reached for her phone and dialed.

  After a brief introduction, during which it turned out Duncan was indeed available, Emily laid out her terms. Duncan was basically given carte blanche to hire the best tradesmen and buy the best materials. Everything was to be top notch, skimping on nothing. Maintaining the period look of the house was to be of paramount importance. She made a note to email him the names of various suppliers who produced modern fittings that would nevertheless give a bathroom the right appearance.

  “I understand. This project is clearly close to your heart,” Duncan said, his tone a little too condescending for Emily’s taste.

  She pushed aside her brief surge of annoyance. “I’ll expect regular updates, which will include details of your spending, of course. Do you think you’ll be in a position to begin work soon?”

  “I should think so. I’ll aim for starting the first week in February. Would that be acceptable?”

  “Perfectly.” If Duncan could have all his people and materials in place within one week, his reputation was well earned. Emily ended the call and sat back, pleased. Outside her window, an ambulance raced along the street, its siren wailing. Minutes later, two or three police cars followed it, loud and strident. Not that the streets near Emily’s apartment were ever free from noise.

  What she needed was some peace and quiet. And that meant only one thing—a visit to Fairdown. Somehow, she didn’t think Fran would mind having a guest, especially if Emily tu
rned up with a couple of bottles of wine.

  “You’re sure I’m not taking up space?” Emily asked as she unpacked her toiletries.

  Fran snorted. “February isn’t usually known for hordes of tourists descending on the village.”

  Emily let out an exaggerated gasp. “I’m hearing this now, after you’ve just talked me into opening a B&B? Your timing could be better.”

  Fran rolled her eyes. “I said we don’t get hordes—I didn’t say we don’t get any. Fairdown seems to attract walkers whatever the time of year, but then they’re a hardy breed. And trust me, if I had someone booked in, you’d be sleeping on the couch.”

  Emily snickered. “Good to know.” She took a last look into her overnight bag. “That’s everything.” Emily straightened, sighing contentedly. “Thanks again. I needed a break from London.”

  “I don’t get why you’re still there. Are you going to stay in London while the work is done on the house?”

  Emily shrugged. “That was the original idea. I’m not needed around here. That’s what I hired a project manager for. All I do is sign the checks.” All the same, the thought of going back to London after the weekend filled her with dread. A few hours in tranquil Fairdown, and London seemed loud, dirty and with way too many people.

  “Well, I think you’re crazy.”

  “What’s the alternative? Move here? And live where? The house won’t be inhabitable for a while, not while they’re taking up floors, putting in new windows and rewiring the place.” She didn’t really want to see the farmhouse when it was in total chaos. Much better to see it when the groundwork had been done, and it was ready to be refurnished.

  “You could stay in the guest cottage,” Fran suggested.

  Emily shook her head. “Absolutely not. That is your income, lady.” Except Fran’s remark had got her thinking. The idea of moving to Fairdown was gaining in attraction. Then she had a brainwave. “Now that I think about it, however, there is an alternative. I could stay in the barn.”

  Fran blinked. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Why not? Clare used to sleep in there.” Not that that had been the only thing she and Jane had got up to, up on the mezzanine.

  Fran shook her head. “And when was that? Years ago. What makes you think the barn is in any fit state to be stayed in?”

  “It’s better than nothing. And don’t look at me like I’m some delicate princess. I can cope with roughing it in the barn for a while, at least until I can move into the house.”

  “Put your money where your mouth is, then,” Fran flung back at her, grinning. “Sell your London flat, put your stuff into storage, and move to the village.”

  Emily’s heart pounded. That was definitely burning her bridges. Then she realized it was a step in the right direction. If she was going to make the B&B a success, she had to throw herself into the business wholeheartedly. And that meant being in place.

  She stuck out her chin. “Fine. When I go home, I’ll put the apartment on the market. I can’t see it being all that long before I get a buyer.” Properties went quickly in Clapham. The barn would be basic, but she could cope.

  She hoped.

  Jake put down his chisel to answer the phone. “Hello?” He didn’t recognize the caller.

  “Is this Jake Matthews?” A male voice.

  “Speaking.”

  “My name is Duncan Barton. I’m the project manager for Emily Darrow, who is refurbishing a farmhouse in Fairdown.”

  “Miss Darrow and I have met,” Jake remarked dryly.

  “Oh. Oh, well, that makes things easier. I’ll come right to the point. I’m putting together a team of craftsmen to work on the property, and I’ve run into a slight problem. The carpenter I’d hoped to employ tells me he’s unavailable, and then your name came up. You live in Fairdown, correct?”

  “That’s right.” Jake’s thoughts were in a whirl. He wants to offer me a job?

  “I’ll be honest. You’re on my list because you’re the nearest. Would you be able to work on this project?”

  For one moment, Jake’s stubborn nature came to the surface, and he was tempted to lie. The irony of the situation hadn’t escaped him. Work for Emily Darrow, on the land he’d wanted for himself? Then he realized how stupid he was being. This was a job, for God’s sake, and beggars couldn’t be choosers.

  “I’m between jobs at the moment,” he lied, “so yes, I’m available. When were you thinking of starting work?”

  “Next week. I know it’s short notice…”

  Jake laughed. “No kidding. No, that’s fine, Mr. Barton.”

  He didn’t miss Duncan’s sigh of relief. “Excellent. If you give me your email address, I’ll send you the details. If you’re in agreement with the terms, then we’re in business.”

  Jake rattled off the address. “I look forward to hearing from you.”

  “Yes, indeed,” Duncan replied briskly. He finished the call and disconnected.

  Jack placed his phone on the workbench, moving almost in slow motion. So Emily really was going ahead with it. Not that he’d disbelieved Serena, but that had been snippets from an overheard conversation. This new state of events made him consider his own situation. Emily wouldn’t need all the land connected to the house. There was still the slightest chance that she’d consider his proposal—that was assuming he got the opportunity to make one. So far, their track record didn’t bode well.

  What if I call, and she knocks me back again? Would I be shooting myself in the foot, metaphorically speaking? He didn’t want to put her back up, yet he could see her reacting that way if he tried again. Then he put such feelings aside. This was his livelihood, his future. He had to do something.

  That left one problem: how to contact her. Then he thought about it, and grinned. Fran.

  “Hey, stranger!” Fran sounded delighted. “How’s your dad doing?”

  That was Fran, warm-hearted and caring through and through. “He’s okay.” It was a non-committal response, but that was easier than getting more specific. Dad had good days and bad days: what concerned him was that the bad days were becoming more and more frequent.

  “I know.” Fran’s voice softened. “It can be tough, watching someone you love change before your eyes. If you ever need to talk, just someone to vent to, you know where I am, right?”

  Bless her. “Thanks, Fran. I’m calling because I need a favor.” He paused. “Do you have Emily Darrow’s number? I need to contact her.”

  “Oh. Oh, right. I’ll send it through.” She chuckled. “I trust you. It’s not like you’re gonna be sexting her, right?”

  Jake snorted. “Damn. You saw through my plan,” he joked. “Seriously, there’s something I need to discuss with her.”

  “If you wait a while, you’ll be able to do that in person.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Emily’s moving to Fairdown.”

  Jake was stunned into silence for a moment. “I thought she lived in London. Besides, she has a project manager to keep an eye on things.”

  Fran cleared her throat. “Wanna tell me how you know that? Hmm?”

  Shit. “Look, don’t say anything to her, but… it looks like I’m going to be working on the house. Her project manager just called me.” He knew it probably sounded weird, asking Fran to keep his new job secret, but he didn’t want Emily getting the wrong idea. Based on their previous encounters, it was more than likely that she’d think he’d engineered getting the job with the intention of ingratiating himself with her. And that would be the death-knell of any hopes he had of success.

  “That’s great! Not sure why you want to keep it a secret, but you must have your reasons. In that case, why not wait until you can talk face-to-face? Makes much more sense. And it’s not like you won’t get enough opportunities to do that, seeing as she’ll be staying on site.”

  Jake frowned. “But… how?” He had a good idea how much work needed to be done on the house. Staying in it wasn’t feasible.

  �
�She’s got this idea of moving into the barn. I think she’s nuts, but she keeps insisting she can manage.”

  Jake hardly caught that last part. He was too busy going over Fran’s suggestion. A phone call meant he didn’t have to see Emily’s reactions: however, a physical encounter might leave more room to maneuver if he needed it. “I think you’re right. I’ll wait until she’s in the village.” Then Fran’s last remarks finally registered. “She can’t stay in that barn!”

  Fran chuckled. “You don’t know Emily. Stubborn is her middle name. Come to think of it, I recall you and Vic knocking heads when you were working on our guest cottage. I think you’re just as stubborn.” A loud peal of laughter rang from the phone. “Bloody hell. You’re made for each other.”

  Jake wasn’t sure how to take that. “Thanks for the advice, Fran.”

  “You’re welcome. And remember what I said. If you need anything, just ask. Your dad’s a sweet man.”

  “Yeah, he is.” And that sweet man was slowly but surely disappearing, leaving a confused stranger in his place.

  Jake disconnected the call, then opened his emails. Duncan’s mail had arrived, and Jake quickly scanned the details. The pay was reasonable, considering the time limits for the job: Duncan was looking to turn the place around in six months. That meant a steady income until the summer. Plenty of time to find more projects, ready to go after that.

  Then a thought struck him, and he groaned. Of all the months to start… Taylor had booked a week’s holiday in February, when Jake would take care of Dad. He doubted Duncan would be impressed with a request to take time off, but there was no way around it: Simon’s orchestra was performing in Berlin for four nights, followed by two nights in Prague.

  What a great way to start a job.

  That was assuming Duncan didn’t change his mind, and not hire Jake after all.