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‘She’s not?’
‘Nope.’ He leaned back, and she was aware of him stretching his legs out under the table, closer to her own. She crossed her ankles under the chair, scrunching up into a smaller space.
He smiled. ‘Marie and Dan are away, everyone is away. I’m here looking after the horses, and we’re shut for the summer, so I’m afraid there isn’t a job.’
‘But, she said, she promised.’ Kezia reached for her rucksack. She needed this job, needed money, more to the point. She was stuck here in the middle of nowhere, down to her last few pounds and with nowhere else to go. ‘Look, I’ll ring her if you don’t believe me.’ When she could find her phone, why the hell could she never find things? It was in the side pocket, it was always…. No, it was in the top.
‘Don’t worry. Leave it. You can stay here tonight and then in the morning…’
‘No, I’m staying here. You’ve got to give me a job.’
His eyes narrowed a touch. Ignore it. ‘Marie promised. Here.’ She grabbed at her phone triumphantly and pulled up the list of contacts.
His hand came down over hers before she could search.
‘I said, leave it.’ The voice was still as soft, but there was that edge again. The edge that made her stomach clench with strange anticipation. She dragged her fingers away from the heat of his touch. Put her hands under the table.
‘No.’ Whatever spell he was used to casting over women, it wasn’t going to work on her. She’d met loads of weirdos over the years; you always did when you led the nomadic kind of lifestyle her family had enjoyed. Not that ‘enjoyed’ was always the most appropriate word. But she’d learned how to deal with them. Look them in the eye, be firm. Or if that failed, you keep your eyes down and scarper.
‘Yes.’ His tone was even, firm, his gaze met hers and it was her that broke the contact first, looking down to stare into the murky depths of her coffee. ‘You’re tired. I’ll show you to one of the guest rooms and we’ll sort this in the morning. I’ll talk to Marie, work out what we owe you.’
‘I don’t want to be owed something, I want a job.’ She needed a job. This was supposed to be the start of a new life, of moving on. She was on her own now, and the time for crying was over. Now she was going to take control of her life, make something of herself. Stop running. Achieve something she could be proud of. And it was meant to start here. It was meant to start now.
When she’d met Marie at the yoga retreat in Italy, something had immediately drawn her to the older woman. Marie might have been the rich client, and she, Kezia, might have been tasked with the most menial jobs, but there was some recognition between the two women. A recognition of something shared that made them stop and talk, something that told Kezia it was okay to unburden herself. She’d told Marie things she’d never told anyone about her life, things that she never imagined she could trust a stranger with, but she’d known she wouldn’t be judged by her. And before Marie left she gave Kezia her details, making her promise to come to England when her work ran out at the start of the summer and the Italians went away. She assured her that there would be a job, a place she could settle in. A future.
Kezia suddenly realised that he had picked up her bag and was walking towards the staircase. She followed, suddenly tired. Tomorrow she’d feel better. Tomorrow the jetlag would be gone, along with the desperate feeling of loneliness, and she’d give this guy hell. Give her what she was owed, sod that.
He pushed open a door, grinning a teasing grin that made her heart jump. ‘I’m James, by the way.’ And then he was gone so quickly she wondered if she had imagined him even being in the room.
She sat down on the bed. Bounced once or twice. Comfy. Not like some of the beds she’d slept in over the last few years. The curtains were drawn, but she went over to the window and pulled them open, dimly making out the outlines of trees, fences, the ghostly shadow-like horses on the horizon. Maybe the middle of nowhere was a good place for her to be right now. Well, it would be perfect if it wasn’t for him. Why did there always have to be someone intent on spoiling things?
Her fingers were drawn to the battered guitar case and she hesitated for a moment before unzipping it, pulling out the instrument and running her fingers over the polished wood. The one thing of any value that she had, the one thing that had the power to nourish her soul. The one constant left in her life, her companion. The corners of her mouth twitched, she sounded like a soppy, sorry-for-herself idiot. A good job it was all in her head and not out loud for macho-man James to hear.
She perched on the corner of the bed, then slowly started plucking at the strings, watching her reflection in the dressing-table mirror as her fingers moved. She did look a mess. He must have thought she was a right drop-out. Which she was in a way. She’d been called hippy chick, weirdo, gyppo and worse in her time. That’s what being brought up by parents with different attitudes and beliefs did to your reputation. But she did miss them. And she missed Simon, even though she knew she had to leave him.
Was it only yesterday that she’d been in his arms? Yesterday when he’d cupped her face in his hands. ‘You’re leaving aren’t you?’
She’d nodded.
‘Why? We’re okay.’
Yeah, okay. Just okay. And they were, they fitted easily together. He held her when she needed him to, kissed her gently when he wanted to make love, took her with an infinite care that made her heart ache.
They’d made love just before she’d left for the airport. Deep inside she knew he was hoping she’d change her mind, that he could change her mind. But neither of them said it. And deep inside she knew that it was time to say goodbye, to move on, that changing her mind would be a mistake she wasn’t prepared to make. They’d lain naked on an old soft blanket that he always had in the back of the car, under the shade of a tree so that the warmth of the air bathed them, not the heat of the sun.
‘I love you, Kez.’ His blue gaze locked with hers. Trusting, open honest.
She linked her fingers through his. ‘I love you too, Simon.’ And she did. In her own way. The way that said she trusted him, she liked to be in his arms, he made her laugh….
‘You don’t have to go, or I can come with you.’
And the burning tears caught at the back of her throat as his soft, full lips took hers. He always made love to her gently, almost reverentially, but this time there had been an edge of desperation, too, and it made her sadder than any tears or pleas could have done.
She’d held him as he kissed her neck, cradled his head as his mouth had taken her nipple, teasing until her body started a gentle buzz. He’d burned a damp trail down her stomach with his tongue and then he’d sought out her nub, flicking it gently until lazy desire edged its way into her limbs and just as she’d teetered on the edge, just as the cry got caught in her throat he’d covered her body with his and thrust inside. They’d rocked together, their bodies perfectly matched, their rhythm a well-practised beat and each time he pushed deep inside she’d felt sadder. She’d wrapped her legs around him as the ache inside grew, pulling him deeper until she could feel his balls against her. She desperately wanted to bury him so far inside that he’d reach the bit of her that needed more. She’d tangled her fingers in his hair as he’d gazed at her. And his mouth had covered hers and as the feeling grew to that unbearable point, he’d sucked gently on her tongue, drew it into his own mouth and she could smell his desire, taste his pain as they came together. Her body quivered around his, clinging desperately to every last inch, every last drop. Then, still entwined, he’d dropped his head on her shoulder and closed his eyes. And all she could think was she didn’t have to go, didn’t have to change everything. But she did. She had to sort herself out, become the person she knew she could be. Not the one that her past had forced her to become.
Kezia put the guitar gently down in the corner of the room, opened the curtains even wider so that the view would be there when she woke in the morning, and pulled the dress over her head.
The damage wasn’t as bad as she’d expected. She had a slit up the other side now. Granted, not quite straight, but it stopped short of her knicker elastic. Which was good. It had pulled open at the seam, fraying the fabric, with one small jagged tear, but she could probably mend it. The green-blue fabric shimmered as she laid it over the back of the chair and she shoved her espadrilles underneath. The top sheet of the bed was crisp and fresh under her fingertips as she dragged it back, then rummaged in her rucksack for a t-shirt.
She was pooped. Well and truly done in. Tired from the journey, and that edge of uncertainty when you don’t know where you were going and who you are going to meet. It could be good, she was used to it, but since her parents had gone it had been harder. There was nothing to comfort her at the end of the day. Well, there had been Simon, but she’d fucked that one up hadn’t she?
But she had needed to. It was right to move on, it had to be. Exhaustion hit her as she lay back, pulled the cool cotton sheet up to her chin and closed her eyes. All she had to do was think of Simon, imagine him holding her and everything would be fine. But it was a dark, enigmatic stranger that jumped into her head, two black eyes burning into her as though he could read every thought.
‘No.’ She growled and rolled onto her stomach, burying her head under her arms. She really, really did not want to think about him anymore. He was a domineering, bossy know-it-all who thought he could dismiss her with a wave of his hand.
She could still feel the warmth of his skin burning through her dress. She screwed up her eyes. No, no, no. She did not, definitely, one hundred per cent did not want to think about that. He’d held her for two seconds flat, then jumped away before she could make the mistake of touching him back. Bastard. What made him think he could touch her, then not let her do it back? What was he? Too fragile to touch? Handle with care?
Except, she didn’t want to touch him, anyway. Why the hell she’d been about to do that she didn’t know. He was a weirdo. A weirdo who crept up on you and disappeared into the shadows. A weirdo who was all controlling and thought everyone would jump at his command. Well, he’s got another thing coming. She was here now and she was going to stay. He worked for Marie, didn’t he? Not the other way round. So he couldn’t make her go. Not unless Marie said so. And she wouldn’t, would she?
She thumped the pillows into submission and rolled back over. He couldn’t make her do anything. Oh, God, how had he turned her on like that, making her stomach curl, her nipples prickle, made her burn hotly one minute and go goose-bump cold the next? Simon didn’t do that.
Damn the man, Simon did do that. Well, kind of that. When they’d made love it was nice, relaxing. He’d made her come. A nice rolling orgasm that unknotted the tension and sent her to sleep like a good bath would.
Just like a warm bath. Not like a hot-blooded, rampant shag that left her panting for more and begging for a rest.
Bugger. Where, the hell had that thought come from?
Had she ever had that? Most of her lovers had been like Simon, which she’d always thought made her the lucky one. She hadn’t encountered any of the shits that a lot of girls she’d known had. The ones who only ‘wanted it’ when they were half cut, the ones who called tweaking a nipple foreplay. No, most of the sex she’d had was with men she could call friends. Well, the closest she got to friends. A life on the move had left her with no one really close, no girlfriends she could chat to and confide in. Marie had come close to that, though in the short time she’d known her. Being nomadic left you able to strike up acquaintances quickly – yeah ‘acquaintance’ was the word – it made you open because you didn’t have time to be coy. You had to get on with it, then move on, and on, until one day…. you wanted to stop.
Hell, why had she thought this would be easy? Maybe it would be better in the morning, when she wasn’t tired. When she wasn’t thinking of James and how he seemed to turn her on one minute and scare her with that intense look the next. Yeah, it would be better. And she had no choice anyway. No car, no money to speak of and no one she could think of that would offer her a bed. And buried deep in the countryside with a man who didn’t seem to welcome people seemed as safe a place as anywhere.
He was hot though, very hot.
Her hand snaked down between her thighs, rested on a pussy that was damp from something that wasn’t perspiration. She groaned. Stroked gently with her fingertips. She hated him. She rolled over onto her side, her fingers still resting against the warmth, stroking absentmindedly, an automatic caress.
How the fuck was she going to sort out her life when there was a man like him lurking in the background, with his seductive voice, his lulling touch, just waiting to pounce?
Chapter 2 (#u363e2053-f275-58a6-ba57-6c0093a6744a)
There was a subtle shift in the air, a delicate scent that cut through the fresh hay and horse feed, and the bay mare shifted her body slightly as a shadow fell across her.
‘You’re up early.’ James glanced briefly over towards the stable door as he finished securing the hay net.
She grinned self-consciously as though she half expected him to tell her off and a brief tang of guilt threaded its way through him.
‘The sun wakes me up.’ She shrugged as though he might think it was a stupid thing to say.
The sun always woke him up too. He didn’t understand people who blocked out all daylight, confused the natural rhythm of their bodies and then relied on the jarring noise of an alarm. Well, he didn’t understand it these days. Once he had been one of those people; one of the crowd who dodged nature in the search for something better.
‘Did you sleep okay?’
Something flickered across her face that could have been guilt or embarrassment and she traced her finger along the top of the door, avoiding his gaze. ‘Quite well.’
The mare gave him a nudge and he grinned. ‘You want me to move out of the way of your breakfast, you bossy mare?’
‘Who are you to call anyone bossy?’ She’d got one dark eyebrow raised and a cheeky grin on her impish face.
Leaning against the stable wall, away from the shower of hay that the horse was creating with each greedy tug, he took a proper look at his interloper.
Last night he’d not been quite sure what had landed on his doorstep, apart from the fact that it was tired, angry and determined. Her shapely thighs had been on show when she’d been perched on the gate, along with slim bronzed arms and delicate wrists that looked like they would snap under the weight of her rucksack, but he could take or leave a good body. He’d seen and touched more naked skin in the last few years than was good for him.
But he’d not been able to ignore the heart-shaped face that was pale with something more than tiredness. And the overall image had left him wondering whether he should lock her out or take her in. And then she’d fallen into his arms like a spitting kitten and made his mind up for him.
Now, her dark hair hung straight around her face, big hazel eyes stared at him openly without rancour, eyes that last night had flashed tawny before darkening to the colour of moss. She was small, slim and yesterday’s clinging blue dress had been replaced by faded worn denim shorts, heavy doc martens that he knew hid slender ankles, and a bright-green, skimpy vest that shouldn’t have been allowed to be worn.
And he still didn’t know what he was supposed to do with her for the five weeks before everyone else got back and the business re-opened. He didn’t want company; he especially didn’t want female company. He one hundred and one per cent didn’t want female company that ‘needed help’. What the hell had Marie been thinking when she’d sent the girl?
‘You’ll scare the horses wearing that.’ The outline of small, perfectly round breasts drew his eye, her nipples hardening as he watched.
‘Really? Will I?’ Her eyes had widened, for a moment the doubt creeping back.
‘Well they are part-way to colour blind, but I don’t think even a horse could miss that.’
She laughed, genuine humour flooding a face of innocence and hope, which for a moment made him feel jaded. ‘I could take it off.’
‘You could.’
She coloured slightly, just enough to make her seem a tease, but not a temptress. ‘So you’ve spoken to Marie?’
There was a note of challenge in her voice and he tried to stop the curve of his lips. Nothing like a direct approach, attack mode. ‘I have.’ He unlatched the stable door and she backed off, a nervous filly, unsure whether flight or fight was the preferred option.
‘And?’ It was slightly belligerent, like she was building herself up for a fight if he said the wrong thing.
‘She forgot to tell me you were coming.’ He gave a wry smile. Marie was a great boss, brilliant at her job and loving and giving, but she was scatter-brained. Except this time, he had a feeling she’d forgotten on purpose. She’d just been a touch evasive when he’d rung her last night. And when he’d put the phone down all he could hear was the soft strum of Kezia’s guitar; a haunting, melancholy sound that pricked at the conscience he didn’t want to have and made him wonder if his summer solitude was about to get well and truly gate-crashed. ‘So you met at the yoga place?’ Marie had told him the story, but he wanted to hear the other side of it to see if he could persuade her to change her mind. Or at least go away and come back in five weeks.
She seemed a nice enough girl, although he wouldn’t say harmless. But this summer was about time on his own. He liked time on his own. There was always an air of peace and other worldliness here, even when the business was up and running, but it wasn’t enough.
They’d all agreed that closing for the summer was the best tactic. Business was slack. No one needed lessons in sex in the summer, they were too busy doing it. Sun-drenched bodies on beaches, booze by the bucket-load, inhibitions thrown out along with long work days and stress. When you’re feeling good about your newly toned, slimmed, buffed and tanned body you don’t need a helping hand to orgasm. So Marie and Dan had buggered off to Barcelona, or wherever it was they hid out, and even Saul and Roisin had hung up their boots. And he was happy to be stuck here. Alone. With a big sign on the gate saying ‘No entry’.
Until someone decided to ignore it.
Someone who could talk for Britain.
Kezia was waiting for him to look at her again. He moved along to the next stable and flung open the door. He’d already fed and turned out the horse, and now he was looking forward to the physical side, building up a sweat as he mucked out. In peace. ‘Yoga? Italy?’
‘Yes.’ It was hesitant. ‘You don’t like me, do you?’
‘Nothing personal, I expected to be here on my own, that’s all.’
‘Diplomatic.’ She stood in the doorway, watching as he picked up a pitchfork. ‘She was in Capri a couple of months ago, at the retreat and I was working there. We got on, that’s all. I didn’t ask for a job you know.’ She sounded defensive.
‘Nothing wrong in asking.’
‘But I didn’t. She asked how long I was working there, and I told her that they were about to shut down for their holidays. So she said had I thought about coming back to the UK.’ She paused, not filling in the gap that he knew existed. Marie had said the girl needed a base, was upset and needed friends who cared. ‘She told me to come here and work the summer, then if I liked it I might be able to make it more permanent. I’m not really used to permanent.’ She gnawed at her lip and he dumped a fork-load of muck in the barrow and paused.
‘You get sacked a lot?’
She grinned and her whole face lifted and lightened, including the large sad eyes. ‘Don’t be daft. No, we-I’ve, always travelled, done different things in different places, you know.’ She was looking down again and he wondered who the ‘we’ was. Not that it was any of his business. He was stuck here for the summer and he didn’t need company. And definitely not the kind of company that needed a friend.
‘So you don’t plan on hanging around long then?’
‘Maybe.’ She shoved her hands in the pockets of her shorts and watched him through long eyelashes. ‘Can’t I help?’
‘Suppose. Have you mucked out a stable before?’
She shook her head and the light caught her dark hair, glancing off the red and blue streaks. ‘But it can’t be difficult can it? I mean, it’s only shovelling shit.’
He held his pitchfork out. ‘There you go then, lady, start some shit-shovelling.’ She flinched slightly at the weight and then stuck the fork deep into the bed.
‘Christ almighty it’s heavy. How the fuck…?’
‘For a traveller you’re clueless.’
‘I’m not a traveller, or a gypsy.’ She looked like she was trying to give him a haughty look, and not succeeding. ‘I’m a free spirit.’ Then she giggled as she tried to move the fork and failed.
He smiled. She was tiny, and she’d just tried to dig up half the bed. ‘This stable’s got a deep bed. Just take it off the top, here.’ He stood behind her, put his hands over hers, skimming the muck off the top of the bed.
Her back was warm, pressed against the front of him, her tiny hands disappearing beneath his and a tremor of awareness ran through her as he swung to the side to empty the fork in the barrow. She glanced up at him then, dark hair framing the delicate features, a tinge of blush along her cheekbones and she was all trust and innocence, like she’d been when she’d first appeared this morning.
He bent his head and kissed her. Just one light kiss on those cute rosebud lips, and it drenched his senses with her smell and her need. He didn’t mean to do it. He shouldn’t have done it. But there was something in her, and James didn’t know what the hell it was, but it had just dragged him right in where he didn’t want to go.
He’d not had a sweet kiss for a long time. Not since Chloe had gone. And he hadn’t intended on having it again.
She eased her grip on the fork just like he knew she would, half-turned in his arms, stared at him with need, and moved her hands up to his chest.
Fuck. He let go of the pitchfork like it was molten metal and took a step back. Why the hell had he done that? He hadn’t exactly banned kisses from his life when he moved out here, but he’d firmly limited them. The platonic kiss on the cheek and the passionate kiss during sex. He liked the taste of a woman just before she came, her kiss told him far more than her words ever did.
This was neither.
She was still in the same spot, swaying slightly, a quizzical expression on the face that had been clear.
‘That didn’t happen. I’ll get another fork.’
‘Sure.’ Her tone was light, but more confused than hurt.
There was a fork across the yard, but he didn’t pick it up. He gritted his teeth and walked to the bottom of the row of stables, took a breath and wondered why the hell he had a raging hard-on and why the hell he’d let himself touch her. More than that, kiss her.
It was that look of innocence, probably, a look he found hard to resist. She was a mixture of tease and doubt, of the unconventional and a need to fit the norm. But he wasn’t here to reassure her, to teach her. He picked up the heaviest pitchfork he could see and strode back, wielding it like a weapon. A harder workout might help. This girl was not staying around, she was going before they’d got to the end of the day if he had anything to do with it.
