It wasn’t a happy memory.
“So what’s the problem?” she asked, pushing aside the swift recollection of how his body had looked, naked and close to hers. Thank God Jake wasn’t a mind reader.
“Justin Anderson’s the problem.” Jake answered, and Ella saw that his fists were clenched as he fought to keep calm.
She frowned. Justin Anderson was a Premier League footballer well-known for his volatile temper and ongoing feud with the paparazzi. He was also one of Georgie Angel’s wedding guests, something that was top secret and causing her no end of headaches as the bride-to-be tried to drum up maximum publicity.
“What about him?”
“Don’t play dumb, Ella. It doesn’t suit you,” said Jake. “I know he’s on the guest list for the big wedding.”
Ella stared at him while her brain raced around at a million miles an hour trying to think of a reply. How the hell did Jake know this? The guest list was crammed with A-listers and it was highly confidential; all the hotel staff had been warned about mentioning it on pain of losing their jobs. Who’d spoken to Jake? Was it Tom? Had Nick overheard when delivering fish? Or maybe Charlie had been shooting his mouth off in the pub?
“I don’t know where you got your information—” she began, but Jake just laughed.
“It doesn’t matter how I found out. You know he’s Summer’s ex and they’re not on good terms.”
Ella did know. You’d have to live on the moon not to, because the tabloids had truly gone to town with the story. Summer hadn’t breathed a word about all this, but the rumour mill had it that Justin Anderson had been violent throughout their relationship. He had a reputation for getting into fights and certainly had a troubled past. Then again, so did lots of people.
Ella shrugged. “And your point is?”
“My point is that I don’t want him coming to Polwenna Bay or anywhere near Summer!” Jake flared. His blue eyes blazed with anger and Ella felt a twist of jealousy that it was Summer and not her who’d fired this fierce protective instinct.
“If he is on the list, and I’m not at liberty to divulge that information, then that’s the business of the bride and groom and nobody else,” she said.
Jake gave her a scornful look. “Don’t give me that crap, Ella. You run this hotel and you call the shots.”
“I don’t decide who people invite to their weddings!” She pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger, fighting to quell her rising temper. “That isn’t my call to make.”
“Fine. Who’s is call it? Jonny’s? Teddy’s?”
“It’s Georgie Angel’s decision!” Ella shot back, riled by his comment – which was way closer to the knuckle than Jake knew. “It’s his wedding and his guest list. I can’t interfere with it just because your girlfriend’s oversensitive!”
Jake stared at her with such contempt that Ella felt as though she’d been punched in the stomach. Even as she’d said the words, she’d known that they were bitterly unfair. When Summer had returned to Polwenna Bay her bruised face had told its own story. Who could blame Jake for wanting Justin Anderson kept miles away?
“You really are hard as nails, aren’t you?” Jake remarked, shaking his head. “And to think I felt bad about you.”
“Don’t feel bad on my account,” Ella said crisply. “We had a meaningless fling. That was all.”
In reality she was trying her hardest to hold back the sobs that were tightening the back of her throat. She shouldn’t be upset, not when she’d worked this hard to cultivate her ice-maiden image. She wanted Jake to think she didn’t care. The less he knew of the nights she’d soaked her pillow with tears on his account, the better.
Jake’s beautiful mouth was pressed into a tight line.
“So there’s no point appealing to our past friendship or even asking you to see this from Summer’s point of view?” he said. “Maybe Summer should go to the the press? That would be interesting. Not quite the publicity you probably had in mind for the hotel or the flagship wedding, but needs must.”
Oh Lord. Georgie Angel would flip. Ella felt quite faint at the thought. There was way too much depending on this wedding being a success, and she couldn’t risk Georgie and Tabitha pulling the hotel as a venue.
“Look,” she said finally, “I really can’t say anything because there are confidentiality clauses in our agreement, but the security for this wedding is going to be super tight. There’s a magazine deal in place with exclusive picture rights – and several big A-listers are attending too. I promise that any guests won’t be leaving the hotel. We’ve even got a special marquee and tunnel being set up, to hide their arrivals. If the person you mention is coming, and I can’t tell you either way, then they certainly won’t be wandering down into the village. They’ll be here for twenty-four hours at the most.”
Jake’s blue eyes were narrowed and dark with suspicion as he looked at her. He trusts me as far as he can throw me, Ella thought and this idea made her feel very sad.
“Do I have your word on that?” he asked.
Ella nodded. This was something she could promise. She’d spent days sorting out the security for this wedding, taking every eventuality into account. Justin Anderson wouldn’t be going far.
“Absolutely,” she said. “If he was here he wouldn’t leave the wedding. I promise.”
Jake exhaled a ragged breath. “OK, Ella. That’s good to know. Thank you.”
“Did I just hear you thanking me? Wow. That must have been hard.”
His lips curled upwards. “It wasn’t easy but I’d do anything for Summer, even ask a St Milton for a favour.”
Ella felt a sharp pang in her chest. What must it be like to have a man love you so much that he’d do anything for you? Most guys she met took what they wanted – money or sex; it didn’t seem to matter which – and then pushed off. And yes, she counted Jake Tremaine in their number, even though in fairness to him he’d told her it was over almost as soon as Summer had returned to Polwenna Bay.
“You must really love her,” she said, and he nodded.
“Yes, I really do.” Then he smiled at her and she saw sympathy in his eyes. “I’m sorry if I ever hurt you, Ella. I never meant to.”
She waved her hand at him dismissively. “I’d almost forgotten about it. Now, I don’t know how the marine trade is right now but I’m flat out. Apart from interfering with my wedding-planning business, was there anything else you wanted?”
“No,” said Jake. “I think that was just about it.”
Once Jake had gone, Ella remained at her desk staring into space. His visit had shaken her more than she cared to admit. The problem wasn’t his anger or even the business with Justin Anderson – these she could deal with. Rather, the feelings that had been stirred up in her own heart made settling down to work impossible. Witnessing the protective intensity of Jake’s love for Summer had been like holding a mirror up to her own life: the reflection had revealed just how empty it was. The stupid flings, the mess she’d made with Charlie, the lonely nights spent working… All these images played through her mind like a bleak movie. What would it be like to have a man who truly loved her? The way the Tremaine men loved once they gave their hearts, with passion and loyalty and utter selflessness, made Ella want that love for herself with a longing that took her breath away.
She sighed and reached for her paperwork. What was the point of yearning for what she’d never have? She might as well long for the moon and the stars, because true love was just as far out of her reach.
Ella St Milton was on her own and she suspected that was the way it always would be.
Chapter 12
OMG. The old couple had just split up because of her? Seriously?
Emerald hadn’t meant to eavesdrop on her grandmother but it had been pretty hard not to when she’d heard her own name batted backwards and forwards like a soccer ball. Venturing downstairs after waking up in a huge bed straight out of Bedknobs and Broomsticks, she’d begun following the smell
of toast and coffee to the kitchen. The sound of raised voices had stopped her in her tracks.
“Emerald arriving out of the blue has turned everything upside down. You can understand that, surely?”
This was her grandmother speaking. Emerald’s heart leapt into her throat. In her excitement about heading to England, she’d never dreamed her family would be upset by her arrival. Before falling asleep she’d heard her father and Jake arguing. Mo had stormed out hours before – and although Nick and Symon had been kind, Emerald could see that they too were thrown by her unexpected appearance. It had been a relief when exhaustion had claimed her and she’d fallen fast asleep. Things always looked better in the morning.
Except that this time they didn’t. They were actually looking worse because now people were arguing about her.
Emerald peered through the crack in the door. Granny Alice was standing beside the monster oven and had her back to Emerald, facing an elderly man who was wearing a hat and the kind of tweedy clothes the royal family favoured. He had thick white hair and a crinkled face that looked as though it smiled a lot, even though at this moment it was folded into a frown.
“Of course I can. It must have been a huge shock.”
His words hit Emerald like hammer blows.
She was a huge shock.
While Alice did her best to pretend otherwise and the conversation ebbed and flowed, Emerald’s heart raced. Her legs suddenly felt so wobbly that she slid down the wall and crumpled into a heap. This wasn’t what she’d expected. All her dreams about meeting her brothers and sisters and getting to know her father seemed childish now. She’d watched way too many syrupy Hallmark movies, that was her trouble, but these weren’t real life.
Real life sucked.
“She’s Jimmy’s daughter. That makes her his responsibility, not yours,” said the old man crossly.
She was a responsibility? Emerald was stung. Being someone who was generally quite self-reliant and independent, the idea that she was now an old lady’s problem didn’t sit easily. She hadn’t come here to be a burden.
The conversation continued. Most of it didn’t make any sense because she didn’t know the people they were discussing, but with every word spoken her spirits sank lower.
“Fine! Stay for Emerald. Or Jimmy. Or Mo. Or whoever you feel needs you next.” There was the sound of a chair scraping across flagstones. “Look, I think we should give it a break for a while.”
The old man was heading towards the door now and there was no way Emerald wanted to bump into him. Jeez. She’d only gone and ruined everything for him and Alice. If it wasn’t for her they’d have been happily planning their wedding (another thing that Jimmy had forgotten to tell her about) and life would have continued in its usual pattern with everyone remaining oblivious to her existence.
If she wasn’t here everything would go back to normal.
The solution was obvious. She had to leave.
Emerald turned away and sprinted back up to the bedroom. Her rucksack was propped up against the bed and, since she’d not had time to unpack it, all she had to do was pick it up. Then it was only a matter of seconds before she was down the stairs again, slipping out of the front door and heading through the garden towards the footpath. There was no point sticking around. She was out of here.
Life with her mom hadn’t always been a picnic but one thing Emerald had learned was to be pragmatic and cut her losses. So far this trip had wound up being unbelievably complicated. Emerald was more upset than she cared to admit, but what was it Mom always said? When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. It had been written on a wooden sign they’d once had in the kitchen of the house in San Luis, back when Leaf was seeing Mike. Emerald had liked living in San Luis, and Polwenna Bay reminded her of the pretty Californian seaside town. Here in Polwenna there were pastel-hued ice-cream shops, holiday houses, beach cafés and souvenir shops jostling for pole position along the seafront – providing a perfect contrast to the roughness of the quay, where nets and lobster pots were heaped in seaweed-strewn piles and fishing boats tugged at thick ropes. There probably weren’t any sea lions, though. This thought was accompanied by a dart of homesickness because Emerald loved the fat noisy creatures who lounged beneath the piers and basked on the pontoons.
C’mon! They’ll still be there when you get back, she told herself sharply. This was England and there was so much to see and do. She shouldn’t be fretting over what she had left behind. It was the trip of a lifetime and since she’d spent all the money she’d saved from her part-time job in a café, she was going to make the most of it. She’d hitch a ride, check out some youth hostels and see the place by herself. Jimmy could always find her on Facebook if he really wanted to. Who needed him anyway? She never had before. He’d not been in evidence this morning; his bedroom door was still firmly closed, and Emerald guessed he was in hiding. Well, let him hide.
It was all very disappointing but, now that she thought it all through, not in the least bit surprising. He’d never actually invited her here anyway, had he? There’d been all kinds of vague comments about what they’d do together when she visited, but there’d never been anything concrete. If she hadn’t been so swept away by the romance of having a family in merry England, she might have noticed his lack of commitment. Emerald sighed because it was too late now. She was here and she needed to make a plan. Her flight back was weeks away and, besides, she wasn’t a quitter.
It was a windy day and the light was an odd sickly lemony shade, seeping from between purple clouds and turning the sea to dark navy. It was stormy, squally weather that would send sudden salvos of rain hammering down for a few intense minutes before bright sunshine flooded the place again. Puddles glinted in the streets, the harbour gates were closed against the swell, and people sploshed by in colourful spotted wellies and huddled beneath umbrellas. Emerald wished she had something a little sturdier on her feet than sparkly sandals. California was a neat place to grow up but it didn’t prepare a girl for colder climates. Maybe Mom could transfer a few bucks to her bank account so she could sort herself out? She glanced down at her soggy toes. They were as blue as the Californian ocean. Jeez. That couldn’t be good.
Shivering now that the sun had tucked itself behind a cloud, Emerald shifted the rucksack higher onto her shoulders and headed out of the village. She wasn’t sure where she was going but her mom always said that was the most exciting part of the journey. With luck she’d find somewhere fairly nearby where she could camp out – or maybe she’d even discover a super-cheap guest house. That way she wouldn’t be imposing on the Tremaines, but she could still be close to where they lived and (maybe) spend some time getting to know them. It was a vague hope but Emerald wasn’t the kind who gave up easily.
The path rose steeply and clung to the hillside. A narrow lane forked off towards a pretty church, where Emerald guessed Jules must spend a great deal of time. It looked way older than anything she’d ever seen back at home – but then again this whole country was way, way ancient. She climbed higher up the hill, with the straps of the rucksack digging into her shoulders and her breath coming in sharp pants, until the lane veered sharply to the left and the village was hidden from view. There was a small forest on her right and a little further along were fields where horses grazed, swaddled in muddy rugs and looking far better suited to surviving here than she was in her shorts and sandals.
Emerald loved horses. Riding Pepper, the ancient barrel-racing pony, had been one of the highlights of her childhood. She’d been a good rider too, and Mac had told Mom that with a bit of practice she could be a big star on the rodeo circuit. He’d taken Emerald and Leaf to a rodeo and it had been the most exciting thing she’d ever seen. Country music had blasted over the speakers, while in the arena dashing cowboys had sat astride bucks that looked as though they could launch them into space. Women had sashayed across the stands, their skin-tight jeans glittering with rhinestones and their white Stetsons blocking the view so that Emerald had had to cran
e her neck to see. And what sights there were! Her eyes wide, she’d watched as bulls and bucking horses shot out of pens while the crowds cheered and swooping spotlights followed every heart-stopping move. When the bull-riding had begun, Emerald had thought her heart really might stop. It hadn’t seemed to matter to the cowboys how mean the creatures they sat on were, though; they rode it, lassoed it and roped it whatever! Now and then a rider hit the floor in a puff of dust – to the gasps of the crowd – but the contender would always stagger to his feet and walk back to the corral, hat in hand and spurs jingling, to ride again.
The stands had been crowded, the soupy Californian air had been thick with the stench of hot horses and cheap perfume, and she’d been jostled and shoved as cowboy-booted folk squeezed by – but Emerald hadn’t cared. Even though Mac had bought burgers, dripping with onions and ketchup, Emerald hadn’t been able to manage a single mouthful because by this point the barrel-racing had started. Girls in sequinned jeans and hats that sparkled in the floodlights had torn around the arena on gallant ponies, approaching each barrel in a flat-out gallop before sinking low and spinning on their hocks in the race to reach the next. It was fast and exciting and Emerald had wanted to be one of those girls more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life.
Poor Pepper, retired and rather grumpy, hadn’t been best impressed at being dragged into the corral so that Emerald could practise; before long, Emerald had been begging for rides on other horses. Fearless and determined, she’d ridden pretty much anything. She’d landed face first in the dirt on more than one occasion but she’d soon learned to stick on. In time, she’d built a reputation at the barn for being good.
Then Mom and Mac had split up. Emerald and her mother had left the area and headed back to San Francisco, and that had been the ends of Emerald’s dreams of rodeo stardom. All that remained was a little fizz of excitement when she glimpsed a Stetson – and of course her love of horses. Whenever she saw one, she longed to jump onto its warm back, wind her fingers in the flowing locks of mane and race towards the next barrel, her hair flying as her legs drove the animal forward.
Recipe for Love: A gorgeous Cornish romance (Polwenna Bay Book 5) Page 11