Jake looked across at her and saw her mystified expression, making an impatient movement. ‘Shall we get out of here?’ he rasped. ‘Go and get a drink somewhere?’
It was too late to get a drink in any of the pubs—last orders would have been called some time ago—but Fin’s curiosity about this man was well and truly aroused now, concerning those missing ten years of his life. And for once Jake seemed inclined to talk about himself.
‘Perhaps we could find somewhere to have coffee,’ she nodded acceptance.
They left Fin’s van parked outside the hall while they went off in Jake’s car to look for somewhere that was open to serve them coffee. But even that was impossible this time of night in a small town like this one, they discovered as they drove around. And Fin certainly wasn’t going to invite him back to her home; she had had one lucky escape the evening before—it would be pushing that luck a bit far to hope to get away with it a second time.
‘How about coming back to the cottage for coffee?’ Jake finally offered with a shrug. ‘I don’t feel like going back there alone just yet anyway.’ He grimaced at the prospect.
‘It’s nice to know I have some uses!’ Fin returned ruefully.
He shot her a sideways glance. ‘I don’t think you really want me to make any reply to that remark,’ he said huskily.
She could feel the heat in her cheeks at the soft caress in his voice; thank goodness he couldn’t see her blushes in the darkness! ‘Coffee at the cottage will be fine,’ she accepted tautly. ‘But I had better go back and get my van first.’
He shrugged dismissively. ‘I can easily bring you back into town later. After the coffee.’
And she would much rather have her own transport at Rose Cottage so that she could leave when she wanted to.
‘I would rather get it now,’ she told him with steady determination, studiously ignoring the mocking tilt to his lips as he easily guessed the reason for her stubbornness. ‘I don’t think I should leave the van parked outside the hall when there is obviously no longer anyone there, especially after the van was left abandoned on the road last night too,’ she added defensively. ‘The police might tow it away this time! Besides,’ she said brightly, ‘I have to go and put the key through the letter-box of the house of the caretaker of the hall. It’s the usual practice,’ she excused as he looked puzzled. ‘I’ll only be a few minutes behind you,’ she assured, not wanting him to lose the reason as to why she was having coffee with him in the first place; she desperately wanted to have that talk his conversation had seemed to promise earlier.
Jake shrugged, too weary to argue the point any longer as he ran a hand over his eyes. ‘It will give me time to make the coffee.’
And it would give Fin time to regain some of the composure she had lost during the last few minutes! The last thing she had been expecting from him, after the fiasco of the evening, was veiled flirtation, despite the fact that he had already kissed her yesterday. But then, it hadn’t really been flirting, more like mockery.
The cottage was a blaze of lights when she turned the van down the driveway fifteen minutes later after dropping off the keys along the way, and she remembered what Jake had said about not wanting to go back to the cottage alone just yet. Strange; he didn’t seem the type of man who would want to avoid his own company, seemed pretty self-sufficient in that way. But perhaps it wasn’t his company he wanted to avoid tonight either, but the memories that directing the play tonight must have evoked …?
He did seem preoccupied as he let her into the cottage, holding a jar of instant coffee in one hand; so much for ‘making’ the coffee—hot water, a dash of milk, and he had it! How silly of her to have thought he might go to the trouble of making the percolated kind, which she preferred, for her!
He absently shifted some newspapers off one of the chairs in the tiny sitting-room, with its chintz-covered furniture and curtains. ‘Gail will be down on Sunday.’ He looked about him slowly, grimacing at the untidiness that had ensued in only the few days he had been here. ‘I think I had better try and tidy up before then.’ He looked across at Fin as she sat in the chair, surveying the disorder with rueful eyes. ‘I don’t suppose you …?’
She eyed him mockingly now. ‘I don’t work Sundays.’ Even poor Fido had to forgo his walk on a Sunday!
‘Tomorrow would do,’ Jake informed her hopefully. ‘I promise to keep it tidy then until Gail arrives.’
Fin quirked taunting brows. ‘What happened to all that fierce independence I had from you the other day?’ she reminded pointedly.
He met her gaze blandly. ‘As I recall, what I said on that occasion was that I didn’t foresee a time when I would need your assistance,’ he drawled with perfect clarity. ‘Now I do,’ he shrugged. ‘I hadn’t realised what an untidy slob I’ve become after living on my own for years.’ He looked about the untidiness of the room with almost surprised eyes. ‘I’m sure it didn’t look anything like this when I arrived!’ There were newspapers lying on the chairs, and cups and plates, the latter looking as if they might have had a sandwich or a piece of toast on them, on the small tables dotted about the room.
Fin knew, better than most, that it hadn’t been like this when he had arrived; Gail always left everything neat and tidy when she went back up to town. And, at the moment, everywhere looked decidedly untidy. Not that she could see upstairs—not that she wanted to tonight, either!—but it had looked just as untidy when she was up there cleaning the carpet yesterday. How could one lone man make this much mess?
‘It only needs things tidying away,’ she dismissed; as far as she could see, everything looked clean enough.
‘Then you will come over tomorrow and help me out?’ Jake pounced gratefully. ‘I do appreciate it-it will certainly save Gail reading me the Riot Act! She got her temper from her father’s side of the family,’ he added with a grimace.
Implying that his sister, who Fin presumed had to be Gail’s mother, didn’t have a temper. After the way Jake had flared up at Fin yesterday she knew the same couldn’t be said for Gail’s uncle! But his words finally eliminated any doubt she might still have had concerning his relationship to Gail.
And she certainly hadn’t been offering to come here to tidy up for him tomorrow when she’d made that comment a minute ago, but as Jake went back to the kitchen to make the coffee she could see that the matter was settled as far as he was concerned!
‘Here we are.’ He soon returned with the mugs of coffee, handing one to Fin before sitting down in the chair opposite hers. He sipped the steaming brew appreciatively before speaking again. ‘Did my nervousness show tonight at rehearsal?’
Fin frowned at how this seemed to be bothering him. ‘Not so that anyone would notice!’ she said drily, the memory of the razor-edge of his tongue still very much with her.
His mouth twisted wryly. ‘I haven’t lost my touch in the discipline area, I see,’ he drawled derisively.
‘You said it’s ten years since you last did any directing …?’ she prompted as casually as she could in the circumstances, longing to know what had happened to him during the intervening time.
‘Just over,’ he nodded grimly, all humour gone from his face now. ‘I—used to work on a more-professional level,’ he continued, if still somewhat evasively. ‘But I became—sickened by the artificiality of it all, and I don’t just mean the filming. I—was married then,’ he added harshly, a nerve pulsing in his cheek. ‘My wife died,’ he stated coldly. ‘And so, as I had no one else to think of but myself, I walked out on it all. I sold up, bought myself a farm and some land in England, and took up sheep farming,’ he revealed ruefully.
Sheep farming? Jacob Dalton had spent the last ten years of his life farming sheep for a living? It sounded incredible!
But Fin didn’t doubt that he was telling her the truth, knew that he had no reason to lie to her. But it was all the things he hadn’t said, things that Fin knew anyway, that struck her so forcibly. This man had been the highest-paid director in Hollywood
ten years ago, had been at the very height of his profession, had looked set to continue being so. And his wife hadn’t just died, she had been Angela Ripley, Hollywood legend in her own lifetime, and she had been killed in a fire at their home that had also killed her lover, the man she had intended leaving Jacob for.
Had Jake ever known that? Had he known of the affair between his wife and her latest leading man—with Fin’s father? Was that one of the reasons Jake had been so ‘sickened’ by Hollywood? God, there was still so much she wanted to know—and she couldn’t ask this man to tell her, because to do so would reveal her own identity!
But sheep farming, for a man who had been as brilliant a director as this one had; she still found it hard to believe.
It took tremendous effort of will on her part to keep her expression only mildly curious. ‘Did you like it?’
Jake’s mouth quirked. ‘Very much, as it happened. I didn’t expect to,’ he admitted ruefully at her raised brows. ‘I bought the farm originally as a way of getting completely away from the rat race of film making, intended putting in a manager and just vegetating myself. I didn’t want to think, didn’t want to do anything. After two months of doing that I was climbing the walls for something to do! That’s when Andrew, my farm manager, started taking me out and about with him, showing me how everything worked.’ His mouth twisted ruefully. ‘If I ever fall on hard times I could always apply for the job of farm manager now and know that I’m worthy of that title!’ The last was said without conceit, just a complete confidence in his own capabilities.
And Fin didn’t doubt it was true, was sure that whatever this man decided to do he would do it well—even as the drunken reprobate she had first thought him, he had been totally convincing!
‘Why have you left the farm now?’ She frowned her puzzlement. ‘Bedfordshire, much as I love it, is hardly the place you would choose for a holiday when you’ve obviously been living in a rural area yourself for the last ten years.’
His mouth tightened. ‘I needed time to think, away from everything and anyone who knows me. Gail offered me the use of this cottage, and so …’ He shrugged.
‘And so you came here, got set upon by Little People, and ended up directing the local amateur production!’
‘Hm.’ He gave a rueful smile at this condensed version of what had happened since his arrival here, sobering suddenly, looking across at Fin with narrowed eyes. ‘Do you think you can ever go back, Fin?’ he rasped harshly. ‘Do you?’
She looked at him sharply. Go back to what? Was he talking about the farm? Had he tired of it after all these years and didn’t want to go back to it after this short break? Or was he talking about something else completely …? My God, he wasn’t talking about—
Jake stood up abruptly, pacing the small confines of the room like a caged tiger. ‘I’ve written a screenplay.’ He didn’t even seem to be talking to her any more, his thoughts inward, on his inner conflict. ‘I tried to stay away from the damned business and everything to do with it, but I think, after all, it must be in my blood,’ he said self-disgustedly. ‘The thing almost seemed to write itself,’ he groaned.
But there was more; Fin could see there was much more!
‘I don’t even know why I did it,’ he moaned, ‘but I sent the damned thing to a film company, and now they want to make it.’
She had known there was more. And she could see he still hadn’t finished …
His eyes were pained. ‘They wanted to talk to me about it, so I agreed to go over to the States; that’s why I’ve only just got back from there.’ He shook his head. ‘They had a condition for making the film,’ he revealed heavily. ‘They want me to go over there and direct the damned thing myself!’
Fin knew that she gasped at this revelation, but she couldn’t help herself.
Jacob Dalton, returning to Hollywood …
My God, just think what the media would make of something like that; newspapers would pay thousands of pounds now for an exclusive like this one, especially with the tenth anniversary of Angela Ripley’s death so recently in their minds. Not that Fin would even think about giving them that information, not for any price, but it did help to explain what Jake was doing here under an assumed name.
Maybe the reason he had got involved in directing the play for the Sovereign Players, after a break of so many years, suddenly became clear too …
‘I’ve been away from it all for over ten years now, Fin,’ he burst out suddenly, his whole body taut with tension. ‘Ten years! God, ten days is a long time in that tinsel town!’
He seemed to have forgotten for the moment that she only knew him as Jake Danvers, that she must be wondering exactly who Jake Danvers was that a Hollywood film company should want him so badly to direct his own film. Fin didn’t wonder at all, of course, but Jake couldn’t realise that!
And she readily agreed with him about the memories of the people in Hollywood; her own father’s death had been forgotten in a matter of the days he had just mentioned.
Jake shook his head. ‘There isn’t really anything to think about at all, is there?’ he answered himself heavily. ‘I can’t do it.’ He sat down abruptly.
Fin took the time to moisten her lips before speaking. ‘Is it a good screenplay?’ she asked, not knowing, for the moment, what else to say.
His head shot back defensively, his eyes blazing with colour. ‘Of course it’s a good screenplay. It’s damned good!’
His complete arrogance might have been amusing in any other circumstances, but the last thing she dared do at the moment was smile! ‘Then doesn’t it deserve a “damned good” director too?’ she said softly. ‘I’m only speaking as an amateur actress, of course,’ she added quietly. ‘But you must be a very good film director for the film company to want you so badly.’
Jake absorbed her words, frowning darkly as he thought about them, although he was obviously deeply disturbed at the prospect of ‘going back’, as he had put it earlier.
‘What will you do with your farm while you’re away?’ Fin prompted softly at his continued silence.
‘I’ve already offered to sell it to Andrew,’ he dismissed vaguely. ‘It’s the perfect investment for him and his new wife.’ He shrugged.
Then Jake had already, without even being aware that he had done so, made his decision, had already set about severing the ties he had made in his new life in preparation for returning to his old one. But he didn’t seem to have realised that that was what he had done, not yet, needed a little more time to be able to see that clearly …
She drew in a steadying breath. ‘Then to answer your question of earlier,’ she smiled, ‘I don’t think you can ever “go back”; you can only ever go forward. If that going forward involves you retracing old footsteps, it doesn’t mean the outcome will be the same as the first time around. The circumstances are always different, Jake,’ she told him gently. ‘You’re different. You aren’t the same person you were ten years ago.’
‘Hell, I hope to God I’m not!’ he rasped bitterly.
‘I’m sure you aren’t,’ Fin said firmly. ‘None of us is. And, because you aren’t either, going back won’t be the same as it was before.’
He stared at her wordlessly for several long, tension-filled minutes, and as he looked at her the tension slowly left his body. ‘When did you get to be so wise, Fin McKenzie?’ he finally murmured softly.
She smiled wryly, putting down her empty coffee-mug, knowing instinctively that the moment of intimacy was over, that Jake now needed time on his own to really think about what had been said. ‘It’s probably the “little person” in me,’ she said self-derisively. ‘Just do me a favour,’ she grinned down at him as she stood up.
He looked at her curiously. ‘If I can,’ he nodded slowly.
‘Just don’t desert us for Hollywood until after we’ve put the play on!’
He didn’t return her smile. ‘Talking of the play,’ he looked at her with narrowed eyes now, ‘I didn’t mention it to you in
front of the others earlier this evening, but I think you should know I don’t allow members of my cast to drink before a performance—or a rehearsal!’
Fin returned his gaze in dumbfounded amazement. What did he—? She had met Derek in the local pub for a lager and lime at seven o’clock tonight before going on to the rehearsal. Half a pint of lager and lime could hardly be classed as ‘drinking’!
And it was more than a little ungrateful of Jake to reprimand her over it all when she had just spent over an hour of her time listening to him while he poured out his troubled thoughts to her!
He stood up abruptly. ‘I shall be mentioning it to the others,’ he rasped. ‘But I wanted to have a word with you about it privately first.’
How generous of him. How kind. How bloody damned patronising!
It wasn’t until she had driven halfway home, her departure from Jake made very frostily indeed, that it occurred to her to wonder how Jake had even known she was in the pub if he hadn’t been in there himself …!
CHAPTER EIGHT
JAKE was thankfully absent when Fin arrived at the cottage to clean the next day, and she hurried through the task, hoping she didn’t have to see him today; if she did she might not be as speechless concerning the remarks he had made about her going to the pub before last night’s rehearsal—she wasn’t struck dumb through being flabbergasted by his cheek today as she had been last night!
He was right about all of the cottage being an untidy mess—it was. But it was easily tidied up, and the smell of whisky in the bedroom seemed to have gone for the main part now. Which was just as well, with Gail coming down tomorrow!
Was Gail really his niece? From the remarks he had made last night, Fin had thought so, but, now that she was back here at the cottage on her own, she couldn’t stop the wild imaginings that went through her mind. If Gail weren’t Jake’s niece, would she be sharing the double bed in the master bedroom with him tomorrow night …?
Fin turned away from even looking at the double bed, as its very existence took on mocking implications. She had always made it a point never to question or judge her clients, deeming it none of her business what they did in their private lives. As it was none of her business whether or not Gail was really Jake’s niece …
Private Lives Page 11