Everything You Want: Everything For You Trilogy 2

by Orla Bailey

  Laurent looks hurt and confused. “No? Why is this?” He sees me glance back nervously towards the house as we walk.

  “Until the new boss understands.” My attempt to explain is pretty lame. With the look Laurent gives me I know he agrees with Madame: la petite folle.

  But I underestimate his Gallic reasoning, his male spirit of competition and the wicked sense of humour I adored so much as a teenage girl. He glances back at the house then grins at me in a very sexy way. He grabs me and kisses me fully on the lips, bending me backwards over his arm.

  “I give him something for the jealousy, no?” Laurent looks extremely pleased with himself and winks at me.

  It’s pure drama, designed to shock anyone who might be watching. It shocks me. There might only be one person watching: the one person I don’t want to witness this. I laugh nervously when Laurent lets me up but I’m blushing with embarrassment.

  Laurent is like a brother to me. A very roguish one. I know he’s only joking. We’ve grown up almost like siblings and he’s never made a move on me before. I’ve always been off-limits on the farm. I also know Jack wouldn’t understand this for one second. But these French understand the game of l’amour. Farm boys especially.

  I swat Laurent, hook my arm through his again and drag him back down the path, conscious of my bare feet in the dust. Laurent spots me looking down at them and sweeps me up into his arms.

  A squeal of surprise emerges from my lips before I have the good sense to suppress it. The more I try to avert disaster, the more I seem to court it. I take a fleeting glance back at the house again.

  “Put me down, Laurent. Now!”

  He spins me round laughing but places me on my feet again. “He is not come. I think he does not love you,” he teases.

  I blush furiously. “Please, Laurent. You have to go.” Before the monster awakens.

  It’s very silly that I can’t let Jack talk to Laurent yet and perhaps all the worry is in my fevered brain, but I don’t want to risk my new-found happiness with Jack. I’m simply not able to return to the pain and misery of the last few days, after enjoying this brief respite.

  “I go,” he says, capitulating with a carefree smile. “I go. I just come to say we all go en boite – to the night-club – at La Baule, tonight. You want come with us?”

  My face lights up. It’s been a while since I’ve been out nightclubbing. I recall many great nights out in La Baule with the farm boys in the past. They’re such great fun. I wonder, briefly, if Jack would come too. Could I handle him and the boys together? It might be the perfect opportunity to let him see they’re harmless rogues.

  “I’ll ask Jack.”

  Laurent pretends to be put out by that. He scowls and adopts a petulant voice. “I suppose he could come too.” He gives the Gallic shrug.

  I swat him again for such nonsense so he grabs me and twirls me around. Wary, I squash any attempt to squeal this time. Laurent is always crazy. But now he’s dangerous too. He’s twenty six years old, bronzed, beautiful and has the lean muscular grace of a labourer. I know if Jack sees us together like this, he’ll react badly. Look what he did to Ben Gunn. At least there are no paparazzi here. And no Amanda to stir things up. I console myself with those happy thoughts.

  “I’ll ask,” I promise. “Now please go before there’s trouble.”

  “I not make trouble for you. I go.” Laurent starts to walk away back down the path but I don’t entirely trust that look on his face. I know him far too well. He turns to wave and in the loudest voice imaginable, one that carries for miles, he shouts back at me. “I love you. I love you. Je t’aime. Je t’aime.” He blows me a lothario’s kiss and wanders off laughing his head off.

  He knows he’s teasing. I know he’s teasing. Jack, on the other hand, will go ballistic if he hears. I turn in horror and stare at the house, expecting to see Jack come storming out any minute to thump Laurent on his smug French nose.

  He’d almost deserve it for deliberately trying to create a scene.

  When nothing happens, I sigh with relief. I wave briefly at Laurent’s retreating back now the danger is past. He whistles casually, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans as I scoot back to the kitchen door.

  I wait a minute before I’m convinced I’ve got away with it then start searching for things to cook for an early dinner. If I make us both a nice meal, perhaps I can successfully broach the subject of a night out with Laurent and the boys.

  “Having fun without me?” I jump when I hear Jack’s voice and wheel round to face him. Even I know I look guilty as hell and his eyes narrow on me suspiciously. “You were going to teach me how to cook.” He speaks slowly as if gauging my over-reaction. Not much gets past Jack.

  I relax. He’s talking about food, not about my clandestine meeting with Laurent. “I’m gathering up ingredients.” I toss him a head of curly lettuce to keep his mind and his hands busy. “Here, wash the salad.”

  He catches it deftly and moves towards the sink ripping leaves off and tossing them into a bowl. Suddenly he twists his head round and his eyes slide right over me down to my feet. My very dusty feet.

  “Something you want to tell me?” he asks. He doesn’t move, edginess coming off him in waves.

  I blurt it out in one go before I lose the nerve. “One of the boys from the farm came up to ask if we wanted to go to a night club in La Baule with them tonight.”

  “Would that be Laurent, by any chance?”

  Did he see us together? No point lying about it anyway. I’ve nothing to hide. “Yes.” I lean casually into the fridge to pull out a couple of steaks wrapped in butcher’s paper and hopefully cool my guilty blush. I can’t believe he would even remember Laurent’s name but then Jack remembers everything.

  “Is there a spinner?” he asks, eyes finally roaming the kitchen equipment on view.

  I’m not fooled into thinking this is resolved but I grab a clean tea towel from the drawer and lay it on the drainer next to him. Shaking off the wet leaves, I place them on the cloth and bundle them up securely in the fabric before stepping back and twirling the whole lot round my head, the way Madame has done on countless occasions.

  “French country house spinner,” I explain and he snorts a brief laugh.

  His features sober as he stares at my face. “You went out and spoke to him wearing that dress?”

  I glance down instinctively as if I’ve forgotten what I’m wearing. “What’s wrong with it?” Okay, it’s short. Extremely short. The sort of dress you wear to the beach because it doesn’t cover very much at all.

  His eyebrows arch. He flips my skirt up. “I suppose I should be grateful you’re wearing panties.”

  I slap his hand away. How dare he? “That’s as good as insinuating I’m some little slapper who can’t keep her knickers on whenever there’s a man around.” I walk away in disgust but he grabs me and hauls me back.

  “When a woman’s with me, she’s with me.”

  “I’m not with you. I left, remember?”

  “This isn’t over.”

  “What? Until you say so?” I scoff.

  Jack elevates one eyebrow. “Until the terms of our deal expire. I’m trying to help you.”

  “And I’m no longer deluded enough to think this is about any business deal.”

  Jack looks almost relieved when I say it but I’m probably deluded about that anyway.

  “Why are you going out of your way to push me away?” he demands.

  “I’m doing a lot less than you do with Amanda Devereaux!” I picture them, kissing and touching in public. I can only imagine what they get up to when they’re behind closed doors.

  A flash of confusion hits his face. “What the hell has Amanda got to do with it?”

  He’s still protecting her. He has no idea I’ve seen the way things are between them or what Amanda has revealed to me about their relationship. A flare of jealousy rips through me.

  “I can’t even talk to a man I’ve known all my life just because you
decide to show up and ruin things?” I shout at him. I don’t care. He’s being completely unreasonable so why can’t I?

  “Not in that dress, you can’t.”

  “Even if I keep my knickers on?” I know immediately I see his face, my sarcasm has taken me over an invisible line he’s drawn in the sand. Jack’s jealousy may have delighted me before but it’s simply infuriating now.

  “Men will take advantage if you let them.”

  “Not Laurent!”

  “Even Laurent. Alone with a beautiful sexy woman, dressed like that, not all men can be trusted.”

  “And you’d know all about men that can’t be trusted.”

  “I would.”

  “You’re such a Neanderthal. It’s none of your business what I do.”

  “I’m a realist and I’m protecting you.”

  “Who’s going to protect me from you?”

  We glare at each other. The tension between us simmers but it has nothing to do with what we’re arguing about. I just know it. His lips compress into a tight line and his frown deepens.

  “You’re jealous.” I spit it right out. Because so am I.

  “Yes.” His Arctic blue eyes bore into mine, a mixture of trouble and desire.

  He floors me.

  I can’t believe he admitted it right out and all the fight leaches out of me. I leap at him and kiss him. It takes a moment for his rigid anger to subside enough for him to yield and kiss me back. But when he does, I know I’ve been kissed. Thoroughly. We consume each other, mouth to mouth.

  As we ease back, I look up at him. “Does this mean we can go dancing with the farm workers tonight?”

  “No.” Jack scowls at me like he’s just been played. “It doesn’t.”

  “You’re impossible.” I push myself away to go find a frying pan. I’m totally contemplating using it to knock some sense into him but I slap it on top of the Aga hot plate with a bang instead.

  “Mind your manners. Harry raised you to be a lady.”

  “You can’t have it both ways. You like to fuck me over a kitchen sink. And kiss me hot from the arms of my sexy French lover.”

  “Is this tantrum going to require any help from me to calm you down?” he asks and we both know what he’s implying.

  He’s referring to distracting me with an orgasm when I lost it in the limo on the way to the ball. I straighten, wary, but I’m not letting him get away with that. “Perhaps you need my help to calm you!” My hand tightens round the handle of the skillet.

  He smirks glancing at my weapon of choice. “What do you have in mind?”

  “Grow up. You should be apologising, not making lewd suggestions.” I turn back to the stove.

  “Let’s not argue about it.” He walks over, oblivious to any threat and caresses the bare skin at my back, sending a shiver up my spine and making me wonder if he’s about to relent. “But I’m not in the habit of changing my mind.”

  I shrug him off in irritation. Yet I hate all this tension between us. Our peace is too new; too precious to me and the alternative state of mind is only too familiar. “I’ll take that as we’re having a night in then, shall I?” I adjust the heat under the skillet and drop in a little butter.

  “Don’t let’s fight about it. I want you all to myself tonight. Is that so unreasonable?” He says it tenderly.

  He couldn’t have come up with a smarter pacifier. “Completely unreasonable,” I lie. “But I forgive you.”

  He produces an apron and hooks it over my head, tying the strings round my waist. “Frying steak wearing next to nothing is hazardous.”

  “Sharing a kitchen with you is pretty perilous too.”

  He watches over my shoulder as I warm the pan over the flame, his hands anchored at my hips. I like it when he nuzzles his chin down into my neck and I feel myself calming. Until he rolls his pelvis against me revealing another obvious hard-on.

  “It seems you’re turning me into quite the savage,” he murmurs, nuzzling at my throat and neck.

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you, Miss Caid.”

  “It’s you who’s insatiable.”

  “Only around you. How do you manage it?”

  “I must prefer my men wild.”

  “Do you indeed?” His tone is so pensive I wonder what I might have let myself in for this time.

  Chapter Four

  I let butter melt over the heat until it starts to sizzle.

  “Fetch me some rosemary,” I say, as I rinse off the steaks.

  He rummages in the cupboard until I roll my eyes and tut. He really doesn’t have a clue.

  “Back door. Short spikey shrub. Branches look like a miniature pine tree.”

  Grinning at my exasperated tone, he disappears for a moment and returns with a fistful of Madame’s kitchen garden.

  “Enough?” he asks.

  “For an entire restaurant.” Casting half a bush aside, I run my fingers over a stalk letting the small fragrant leaves drop into the butter and shake the pan as they pop and spit.

  “Smells amazing.” He watches as I add the steaks.

  “Can I trust you to make some dressing for the salad? Mustard’s in the fridge.”

  “Are you kidding? I make a killer vinaigrette.”

  “Show off.”

  A slosh of white wine thrown over the quickly fried steaks is allowed to reduce then I’m ready to plate up. I’m salivating.

  He eats like he enjoys it and I’m happy. In truth I don’t even mind we’re not going dancing tonight. I want to be alone with him too. I was really just agitated earlier that there might have been a scene over Laurent.

  “Mmm. You really can cook, kitten.” He mops up the juices with some bread then helps me to load the dishwasher when we’re done.

  “So what do you want to do this evening?” I ask as we finish clearing up, even though the answer’s obvious.

  “I have to get on my laptop and catch up on a few things. Do you mind amusing yourself while I work?”

  I’m not good at hiding my disappointment. “Fine.”

  His hand reaches out to stroke my cheek affectionately. “Tabitha. I need to make sure some major contracts at my company are proceeding the way I want them to. Things don’t just happen without my approval. It’s not my way.”

  How true. He likes to remain firmly in command. Another trait of a good CEO and Jack has all but abandoned Zee-Com to come after me. Not that I asked him to.

  “How did you know I was here, Jack?”

  I get a smug look. “I’ll always know where to find you, Tabby.”

  Still not talking. He can be so infuriating.

  “You can work in Harry’s study, if you like.” I don’t know why I’m offering this. It’s his house now; he can work where he wants but he accepts with grace. “Thanks. I will. What will you do until I’m done?”

  “Paint my toenails.” I have little grace. I sound like a spoilt child.

  And his sense of duty makes me conscious I’ve ignored CaidCo for an entire week. Not enough to want to do anything about it though. I wish I could lock myself away at Lassec with Jack, forever.

  “Two hours tops,” he promises me.

  I leave him to work in peace and find things to amuse myself. I start by washing the grime off my feet and painting my toenails scarlet. The colour seems to haunt me. Really I’m distracting my mind waiting for Jack to come home from work to me. It feels brand new and comfortably domestic and I like the relative normality of it all.

  I slip on some pretty heeled shoes which make the sundress appear even shorter and sexier and make coffee for him to remind him his two hours are nearly up. I’m too impatient to wait any longer for him to emerge so I carry the tray through the house, popping it down on the table outside Harry’s study until I can open the door. Jack is speaking to someone inside. I presume he’s on Skype so I listen at the door for a suitable break in the conversation.

  When I hear her saccharine-coated voice I freeze and a surge of rage burns through me. Aman
da Devereaux. Sounding more than friendly.

  “Jack, darling. Are you alright? You sound so tense. I should be there with you, darling. When you had to leave so suddenly I was frantic with worry.”

  “Everything’s fine, Amanda. Nothing I can’t handle.”

  He left me by myself to catch up with her? Anger overwhelms me. I’ve created some idealistic, cosy little scene of rural domesticity in my head but it isn’t real. Jack is back with Amanda already. He never really left her. He’s still using me.

  I hear her voice again. I swear she makes it sound deliberately breathless only when she speaks to Jack. It didn’t sound anything like that when she bit my head off in the bathroom at the ball or again at Belvedere. “Do you need rescuing, darling?”

  Oh, she’d just love to rescue Jack from me, wouldn’t she? Especially if she knew he’d been having sex with me too. How could he possibly play such mean games with both our emotions?

  “I’ll be back Monday morning,” he tells her.

  So he always planned to leave me and return to her. How could I have been so naïve? A little weekend sex with me to put me in my place for running off and then back to his woman. Both of us managed. That’s his way. My heart trips so fast I feel dizzy. I’m angry enough to throw myself through the door and scratch his cheating eyes out but I can’t move. I shake too much.

  “Sounds mysterious. What are you up to, darling and should I be worried?” She trills off a laugh but I can hear the anxiety in her voice.

  “No mystery. Just a little problem I have to sort out.”

  A problem? He thinks I’m a problem he has to sort? Red mist descends over me. I turn and walk away. I need to get as far from Jack as I possibly can. Jealousy cuts at my insides with a dull serrated blade as I head straight through the kitchen, the back door and into the dark yard.

  The little 2CV is still parked there. I climb inside wanting it to cocoon me from my pain. With the key dangling in the ignition calling out to me, I turn it without thought. As the engine springs to life I know what I want to do. Something I’ve done before. Get away from Jack. I no longer trust myself around him. Or him around me.