One Scandalous Christmas Eve

by Susan Stephens

  ‘I can’t dance,’ Jess protested. ‘I’ve got two left feet.’

  ‘What about my self-esteem?’ He delivered the words deadpan, with just the right edge of vulnerability in his tone to appeal to Jess’s generous nature.

  Her cheeks flushed pink. ‘Put like that...’

  ‘You can’t refuse,’ he confirmed.

  ‘But just one dance,’ Jess insisted with a concerned look in her eyes. ‘You’ve been on your feet a lot today.’

  He’d settle for that. ‘I’ll put your parcels behind the bar, and then we’ll dance. If I feel the strain, I’ll lean on you.’

  He’d gone too far and she laughed. ‘That’ll be the day!’ she exploded. ‘But I do owe you for steering me towards such beautiful gifts.’

  ‘That’s right,’ he confirmed, ‘you do.’ Now, let’s get on with it, he silently urged. But his attitude towards Jess soon mellowed when he reviewed the sincerity in her eyes when she thanked him. Was he the first man to treat Jess as a woman should be treated? She should be spoiled. Jess had been working her ass off for years. What was wrong with cutting loose now and then?

  ‘The dress wasn’t a gift; it was a necessity,’ he insisted. ‘I brought you here—I landed you in this—’

  ‘Fabulous and unexpected wedding invitation with a lovely new friend,’ Jess interjected.

  ‘Agreed. But you have to wear something at the wedding, apart from jodhpurs or scrubs.’

  ‘True,’ she conceded, smiling. ‘And I’m thrilled to have such a pretty dress to wear at Maria’s wedding, and I’m very grateful—’

  ‘You don’t have to be grateful. You’ve earned it. If there’s a shortfall...’ he pretended to ponder this ‘...I’ll make sure you earn it. Does that salve your delicate conscience, and soothe your touchy pride?’

  She shrugged ruefully. ‘Whether I’ll have the courage on the day to wear that particular dress remains to be seen,’ she admitted with a grin. ‘And I can’t see it coming in handy at the farm.’

  ‘Skylar would wear it,’ he remarked.

  ‘Yes, but she’s a shameless hussy whose only skill is telling fortunes,’ she dismissed.

  ‘Can she dance?’

  Jess’s kissable lips pressed down as she considered this. ‘Skylar can dance,’ she confirmed.

  ‘Just to be clear, when we hit the dance floor, am I dancing with Skylar or Jess?’

  ‘Which would you prefer?’

  ‘A freestyle combination of the two.’

  ‘I’ll have to see what we can do,’ Jess offered with a grin.

  ‘Knock yourself out.’

  ‘I’ll try to make things interesting,’ she promised.

  His lips curved. ‘That’s what I expect.’

  But the best laid plans, et cetera, et cetera...

  They’d barely reached the dance floor when his leg cramped. Seeing his grimace, Jess quickly reverted to professional in a trice and found him a seat. Kneeling on the cobbles in front of him, completely unconcerned by the people who had gathered to watch, she worked on the spasm, oblivious to everything but easing his pain.

  Hell. This was not how he’d planned the evening to end.

  ‘Better?’ she asked, gazing up at him with concern.

  ‘Much better,’ he admitted in an ungracious low growl.

  ‘No dancing for you,’ she told him. ‘It’s time to go. That cramp was a warning. I’ll get the rest of our things—’ She handed him the cane.

  He had never hated it more. ‘I can manage without your assistance.’

  Jess opened her mouth to reply, then thought better of it and stood back while he levered himself up.

  They didn’t speak a word for the first part of the journey home. He was in a foul mood, thanks to the cramp in his leg, and Jess had more sense than to attempt conversation. At least she showed more sense to begin with...

  ‘You have to accept that your leg will take time to heal,’ she ventured after they’d covered a few tense blocks. ‘There will be setbacks, sometimes when you least expect them.’

  ‘Thanks for the advice. Can we leave it now?’ To emphasise the point he played some music. Jess talked over it.

  ‘You’re not invincible, Dante. You’re a man, you’re injured and you hurt. That isn’t something to be embarrassed about.’

  ‘Embarrassed?’ he spat out with affront.

  ‘If you tell me as soon as you get these cramps, maybe I can help.’

  ‘Like you have done so far?’ he derided.

  ‘You’re in pain now,’ she intuited, ‘so, rather than take it out on me, stop the car and let me drive.’

  A short incredulous laugh shot out of him ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘Never more so,’ she stated bluntly. ‘It isn’t a weakness to admit you need help. Open up. Trust someone—’

  ‘Trust you?’

  She blushed, but that didn’t stop her asking, ‘Why not? You have to start somewhere.’

  ‘That’s rich, coming from you, Jess. And no, you can’t change places with me, either to drive this vehicle or to see things the way I do. So let’s just agree to disagree and restrict our comments in future to subjects connected to my treatment.’

  ‘Fine by me,’ she bit out.

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Good,’ she echoed before sinking back in her seat.

  His mood didn’t improve. If anything, it grew worse. If it hadn’t been for the setback with his leg, he would be planning to mark the successful business deal he’d signed off at his lawyers round about now.

  With Jess?

  The connection between them was undeniable, but they were worlds apart. She deserved more than he could give—more than he wanted to give. Casual relationships suited him. His siblings were the one constant in his life. He doubted he’d ever be tempted to extend his family. After the tragedy of his parents’ death, he chose to fiercely protect what he had.

  He glanced across at Jess. They couldn’t avoid each other. He needed more treatment, and they’d meet socially at Maria’s wedding, where he’d be polite, nothing more. His world was constructed around practicality with no space for pointless emotion. A good night’s sleep should sort him out, he reasoned as they hit the highway and headed out of town. He’d attend Jess’s therapy sessions religiously, and he’d be civil when they met away from the treatment couch, so when Jess’s contract ended he’d say goodbye without regret.

  * * *

  Jess felt the need to beat herself up. How could a day that had started so well end so badly? She and Dante were further apart than they had ever been, which made it hard, if not impossible, to work with him. If she didn’t have Dante’s trust she had nothing, and right now the gulf between them felt wider than ever.

  What more did she want?

  To put it another way: what more could she expect? Try nothing and she’d be close. Dante had spelled out exactly what he wanted and expected of her, which was for Jess to heal him in the shortest time possible.

  Frustrated by Dante’s impatience, for which she had no answer, and by the black cloud surrounding them, Jess realised that she was gripping the packages they’d bought on the market as if they were comfort blankets. She desperately wanted Dante to be free from the shackles of his past. The loss of his parents was a scar he’d wear for ever, but would his parents have wanted him to pay a penance for their death every day of his life? She refused to believe it, but how could she help when Dante had shut her out? Perhaps he was right to do so and being professional from now on was the only way forward.

  * * *

  When Dante was under her hands on the treatment couch later that evening she marvelled at the miracle of healing. It had nothing to do with rich or poor, privileged or not, and had everything to do with training. Staring down at one of the most brutally physical men on the planet, currently resting on his stom
ach buck naked with the small exception of the towel she’d placed across his buttocks, she realised it was possible to separate her two selves and concentrate solely on healing. Manipulating his muscles until she felt the knots release was all the satisfaction she would ever need.

  Was it? her cynical inner voice demanded.

  It had to be.

  ‘Well done,’ she said, standing back when the session was over. ‘That can’t have been much fun.’

  ‘Fun?’ Turning over, he grimaced. ‘If torture is fun, that was hilarious. You’re a lot stronger than you look.’

  Wasn’t that the truth? Helping her father out of his financial difficulties was only half the story. When her mother died he took to drink, thinking this might numb the pain. But it was still there in the morning, only now he had a hangover to cope with, while Jess changed his sheets, washed his clothes and begged him to please take a shower. She suspected that these were secrets many other families were forced to keep.

  As much as it had hurt like hell, the whole sorry experience had made her strong: physically strong as well as mentally robust. The first time she’d picked him up off the stairs, she’d strained her back. A refresher class in recovering unconscious patients from the floor had reminded her of techniques she should use to avoid injury. One step at a time, she’d told herself as she came to grips with caring for the broken man her father had become. ‘One step at a time,’ she’d whispered when he sobbed in her arms.

  Now, thanks to the sale of the ponies, those dark nights were behind him and her father was back on top. He’d stopped drinking and took a shower every day. The washing machine went back to its regular cycle. Jess rejoiced to see him recover, but if she was totally honest she could see that being strong for her father had left her with no time to grieve. Just as well, she determined, firming her jaw. She had responsibilities, and a job to do, which she was good at.

  * * *

  What had caused the shadows in Jess’s eyes? Dante reflected. Had someone hurt her?

  Dante didn’t invite questions into his life, and if Jess wanted to tell him she would. He wasn’t used to dealing with women who had so many onion skins to peel away before their true self was revealed, or maybe he’d never had the time or the inclination to do so before. Compared to Jess, those other women seemed like mannequins to him now. Jess was real—so real he missed the rapport they’d shared before their spat in the car. Their banter enlivened him, lifted him, and the pointless argument had been largely down to him and his frustration at not snapping back to full fitness immediately. That wasn’t Jess’s fault. She was doing her best to help.

  ‘Don’t rush off,’ he said as she packed up her kit. Swinging off the couch, he tested his leg...not too bad. ‘A lot of water has passed beneath the bridge since that kitten peed down your front, and you’ve shared so little with me.’

  ‘While you’ve been incredibly forthcoming,’ Jess observed dryly.

  ‘Touché,’ he conceded with a shrug and a smile. Then, after another few moments, he added, ‘I apologise.’

  That stopped her dead in her tracks. ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘I was unreasonable in the car.’

  ‘You were in pain.’

  He didn’t want understanding; he wanted a return to the up and down relationship they’d shared before. That was never boring. Professional civility was borderline. ‘We can continue to snipe at each other or—’

  ‘I must have stank in that stable,’ she said, softening into the woman he wanted to know better. ‘Belated apologies,’ she added.

  ‘For caring for a kitten?’ He grinned. ‘Apology unnecessary.’

  ‘They were cute, weren’t they...?’

  She looked wistful as she thought back, no doubt remembering her mother alongside her in the barn, introducing her to the miracle of birth and teaching her how to care for kittens. How lovely she was.

  ‘I have to go,’ she said, breaking the spell. ‘Apologies again, but I can’t stay to chat. I promised Maria I’d call by to see if there’s anything I can do to help with the wedding.’

  ‘That’s very kind of you.’

  ‘I am kind.’

  Yes, she was, and he’d almost lost her. Even now it was as if the connection between them had been reduced to the slimmest of threads. He wanted to kiss her, reassure her, and banish that sad look in her eyes, but not yet. This was not the time.

  ‘Dante?’ she queried. ‘What are you thinking? You look so far away, yet so intense.’

  He snapped to immediately. ‘Just thinking about your charity event.’

  ‘It was a good day, wasn’t it?’

  ‘A very good day. Successful, I hope?’

  ‘Massively,’ she admitted. ‘Mostly thanks to you.’

  He shrugged this off. ‘It was your day. You organised it.’ Jess was always thinking up ways to help others. Why hadn’t someone helped Jess?

  ‘The main thing to me is that it lifted my father.’

  He nodded in agreement. Everyone in the horse world knew the saga of Jim Slatehome, and how the great man had been devastated by the death of his childhood sweetheart. When his wife had died Jim had gone to ground and hadn’t been seen for several seasons. Surely someone must have noticed that Jess was reeling too? He guessed she’d put on a brave face because that was who she was. Her father had relied on her completely, and anything Jess had achieved personally, or for him, was a result of sheer willpower and grit. She didn’t deserve to be abandoned now with no one to confide in.

  ‘Three sessions tomorrow,’ she reminded him brightly before she turned to go.

  ‘Am I supposed to cheer?’ he asked dryly.

  ‘You’re supposed to get up bright and early and set your mind to accepting three sessions a day from now on. If you attend each one and follow my exercise regime, I predict that in around a month you’ll be back on your feet without that cane.’

  His stare followed Jess as she walked away. There was such an air of purpose in her stride. He couldn’t go right ahead and seduce her because Jess was special, unique, precious and oh, so tender beneath her onion skins of professionalism and grit. There weren’t many he held in high regard outside his immediate family, but Jess Slatehome was right up there.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  A LOT COULD happen in a month. The run-up to Maria’s wedding seemed to fly by. Jess had grown to feel at home on the ranch. In her free time she helped out wherever she could.

  Dante had been as good as his word, attending each treatment session promptly, before fulfilling his quota of exercises as diligently as Jess could have wished for a patient.

  She did a lot of wishing that month—that their banter could progress beyond amusing and superficial to something deeper, and that the man beneath her hands might somehow wake up one day to find her totally irresistible. This led to a lot of sleepless nights, but if she hoped for Dante to act on the ever-strengthening bond of friendship between them she was to be disappointed.

  They learned more about each other for sure, but the facts remained these: Dante worked on his leg. She worked on him.

  He rode more and more, which was amazing to see, while she made notes on his progress, revelled in his surprisingly wide-ranging library, walked the ranch, rode out on her own, which was what she was used to in Yorkshire, and spent time with Maria, who was the closest thing to a sister Jess had ever had.

  And today was the morning of the wedding.

  Jess stood, hand clasped to her mouth in shock, in the middle of Maria’s cosy sitting room. ‘Me? Be your bridesmaid? Are you serious?’

  Jess was overwhelmed, while Maria was clearly embarrassed at having to ask Jess at the last moment to stand in for her one and only bridesmaid, who had gone down with a bad cold. ‘It’s such an honour! I can’t believe it. Of course I’ll hold your flowers at the crucial moment. I’ll do anything I can. Are you sure? Isn’
t there anyone else you’d like to ask?’

  Maria bit down on her lip. ‘Can I be completely honest?’

  ‘Of course,’ Jess said warmly.

  Pulling a face, Maria laughed and blushed. ‘You’re the only one who’ll fit into the dress.’

  Jess’s peal of laughter set Maria off. ‘I can’t think of a better reason,’ Jess admitted as the two women hugged.

  ‘But the best reason of all,’ Maria said in all seriousness when they parted, ‘is that I like you and trust you to do this for me.’

  ‘Then I’m honoured and thrilled to accept,’ Jess confirmed. ‘Do you think I should try on the dress, just to be sure it fits?’

  ‘Of course...’

  Crossing the room, Maria returned with a dream of a gown.

  ‘This is so beautiful,’ Jess breathed in awe. The delicate confection comprised of lace and tulle and was lovely enough for any bride to wear on her wedding day.

  ‘I hope you like it?’ Maria asked with concern.

  ‘I love it.’ Jess sighed as she stroked the peach lace and chiffon. ‘I’ve never had the chance to wear anything like this.’

  ‘Wait until you see my wedding dress,’ Maria exclaimed happily. ‘Señor Acosta insisted that the gowns came from Paris, so he flew me and my mother there, saying she must have a special outfit too.’

  ‘He’s very generous,’ Jess murmured thoughtfully.

  ‘Oh, yes, he is,’ Maria enthused. ‘Everything was handmade in the atelier of a very famous designer.’

  ‘If only he weren’t so obstinate and remote. If he just let people in and...’ Her voice tailed away. Maria was looking at her as if she sympathised and yet wanted Jess to come to some conclusion by herself.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Jess said gently. ‘He’s always been kind to both of us. I didn’t mean to criticise him—especially not to you, and not on the morning of your wedding. How selfish you must think me.’

  ‘Not at all.’ Maria took Jess’s hands in hers and held them tightly. ‘Like you, he’s hurt and scarred by loss and, like you, he says nothing. Both of you lose yourselves in work, and it’s only this accident that forced Dante to pause and take a proper look around at things that matter. Like you—’