“It might not be the same now Georgie, things change.” Ella had grabbed her hand, and she knew why. She thought she was mad, thought she was just trying to turn the clock back. But she wasn’t. “People change, you’re a different person now.”
“And I’m going to paint. That silly cow stopped me after I got thrown out of college, but Sly said I was good.”
“Sly, what kind of a god awful name is that?”
“Sylvester.”
“So, was he named after the cat or the actor?”
“A singer.” She grinned. “He was conceived at some hippy thing with ‘You make me feel’ echoing in the background.”
“Made someone feel something then.”
“Obviously.”
“And Sly was?”
“The art teacher who I got caught posing with.” Ella raised an eyebrow. “He asked me and another girl to assist him, said it fed his muse.”
“A threesome? I bet it fed something.”
“Artistic licence I think they call it. Tons better than looking at his etchings.” She twiddled her toes. “I think I might call him, I mean maybe I could set up some kind of artistic retreat, run classes or something. I’m sure Sly has loads of contacts.”
“Loads of something by the sound of it.”
“He’s run these retreat things lots of times, he wanted me to go on one and pose—”
“I bet he did.”
“He can come and see the place, tell me what to put in the plan.”
“What about Jake?”
“What about Jake?”
“Well, he might want to stay there. I mean, it is his place at the moment and he does seem keen.”
“He’s just trying to rile me, make life difficult.” She didn’t quite get why he was kicking up such a fuss, despite thinking about it long and hard. Yes, he liked Rowena, but she’d said she’d rent him a field out. And he only had one horse on there. “Jake doesn’t want to be tied down to anything or anybody. He keeps making a point of telling me, making sure I get the message and don’t get clingy.” She grinned to herself. Clingy was the last thing she was these days, take it or leave it worked fine for her. She glanced at Ella. “He doesn’t want a mortgage or any kind of commitment.”
“Are you sure about that? He doesn’t seem the fuss type, more take it or leave it, not just do something to annoy you.”
Which was what was niggling her. “Exactly. But he’s just trying to prove I can’t have what I want. He’s got a thing about people with money.”
“Ah.”
“Thinks I’m a spoiled brat.”
“Figures. Posh totty.”
“Don’t say that, it sounds horrible. He’s not bothered about the place though and he will never commit to taking it on.”
“Are you sure?” Ella was grinning at her and the flutters of apprehension smacked about a bit harder in her bloodstream. A couple of days ago she’d have said yes without a pause, Jake was a wanderer, a bad boy with no roots, nothing pinning him down. Free. But he’d been angry and shocked at Rowena’s proposal. And although he’d been pleasant enough, the band of steel that ran straight through him had never been more evident.
“Yes, yes.” If she said it enough it would be true. “He’s messing about, he doesn’t want it. No way will he go through with it. He doesn’t even need a place for what he does.”
“Can we call it a day on the business plan and go for a drink then?” Ella had obviously lost interest. “You’ve got a shitload of ideas, so let’s leave it at that eh? I’m sure Sly will be very accommodating if you ask him.” She winked and dodged the thump Georgie threw her way. “Come on, stop being boring, it’s wine o’clock girl.”
***
He was out. No sign of him, or his motorbike. Which hopefully meant she’d be gone before he got back. She felt a bit like an unwanted intruder, but she had text to ask him if it was okay to pop in and have a poke around. Not that she’d mentioned she was taking someone with her.
And she had got a ‘fine’ back. It could have been a fine, I don’t care, or a fine, if you have to, or a fine, I haven’t got much choice have I. She favoured the last one, hence the unwanted intruder feelings.
Sly had been a bit non-committal when she rang him, which she put down to the fact that he probably had his latest shag, sorry muse, either next to him or under him at the time. But he’d rung her back in the early hours, so obviously not a shag who had got to the coveted staying-the-night status, and he’d actually started to sound marginally enthusiastic. Sly didn’t do enthusiasm any more than he did fidelity. He was actually in the area the next afternoon he said, before taking the redeye to the States, so he could spare her a couple of hours. As long as she wasn’t expecting more, and she gave him a lift to the airport. Treat ‘em mean, keep ‘em keen was a saying that could have been made for him.
She wasn’t expecting more. And she was so glad she hadn’t been when she saw him. He’d aged, or maybe she’d just grown up from being an awe inspired student and his god-like status had slipped. It was embarrassing, but she was pretty sure she was staring at him gobsmacked when he walked out of the railway station. Not that it would bother him, Sly liked to be stared at.
Black leather Dr Who coat swinging open, his shoulder length dirty blond hair scraped back into a ponytail to show off beautiful high cheekbones that a sculptor couldn’t have bettered. He’d once seemed Byronesque to her, now he was more aged rock star with a slightly dodgy taste in clothes. But he still had it, that certain something. And even though now she could just look at him as an observer, she could see why the teenage Georgie had been drawn in. And hadn’t wanted to get out.
He stood for a moment, getting his bearings. And then he spotted her, whipped off the dark sunglasses and his lazy drawl of a gaze took her in from head to toe. The grey eyes looked hazy, he was probably drunk, or at least well oiled. But when he spoke, it was the same familiar voice that had teased and tempted her out of her safety zone, goaded her into painting flamboyantly, caressed her until she practically made a fool of herself trying to catch his attention. And when he winked, it was the same old Sly.
“Well, well little Gina haven’t you grown up?” He grabbed her firmly by the shoulders, he probably thought it was a flamboyant gesture, but it bloody hurt. Whether that meant grown up as in filled out, or got fat, or something less catty she wasn’t sure. Sly had a sharp tongue on him, he preferred to call it acerbic wit, and in a strange way it appealed to the young naïve girls that he choose to surround himself with. Teaching in a college had served him well. But he had improved her art no end, she had to admit that. Whether it was because of his skill, or the fact she’d put in incredible hours just to get his attention was, she supposed, pretty immaterial. “Lead me to your well, my darling.”
Which could have meant anything, maybe it was the horse thing he’d latched on to and leading a horse to water, or maybe her ‘well’ was a part of her she’d rather not share with him these days. Yes, he was undeniably attractive, she had to admit that. In fact, she had to keep admitting that as she kept sneaking a look at him as they headed towards Marsh Lane. But, seeing him now was like stepping into her past, back into the life she used to have. And sadly, she didn’t want to go back there. She sighed, it had been so good while it lasted. So uncomplicated.
The drive to the smallholding was over quickly, which was a bonus seeing as old Sly insisted on laying a hand on her upper thigh, and pressing a soothing thumb into her inner thigh until not squeaking became an ordeal in self-control. He just didn’t do it for her any more. Which was a shame.
But the second he stepped out of the car he forgot her. Sly was like that, his passion flipped between carnal and earthly, but at the root of it all was a deep commitment to beauty, whatever form it took. Which, she supposed, was part of his appeal. She’d purposefully killed the engine just short of the barn, a high point from which the countryside spread out below, framed by the oak tree in all its autumn glory. Whether your heart was w
ith the abstract or convention, this view held the kind of promise you couldn’t ignore.
Georgie let him stand, silent, for as long as it took. Sly was fast, mercurial most of the time. Demanding and wearing, generous and greedy, having him silent was a gift she wasn’t going to waste. When he finally spun to look at her, coat billowing, there was pure greed shining in those flinty eyes.
“While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day, And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue.”
“Sorry?” Georgie raised an eyebrow as he peered down his aquiline nose.
“Keats. Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun. Although mellow death is how I like to think of it. A bastard to capture, but so rewarding if you manage it.” The corner of his generous mouth curled. “Just like you.”
What the heck was he on about now? She wasn’t that keen on the look in his eye, over-zealous was probably how she’d think of it. Apparently now his artistic nature had been teased, some other part of him had been as well.
“Why don’t you show me your inner sanctum?”
Like hell she would. She was, she supposed, still attracted to him in some weird way. Maybe it was the passion that seeped out of every pore, the expression of pure want. Sly had the ego of a rock star, which was no wonder really, the way his student’s fell beneath him before he even asked. And he had that dangerous, forbidden aura about him, which was probably what had appealed to her in the first place. But now he was no longer forbidden, now he was no longer the mentor, the god-like figure of authority, now he was just a man who really could do with a good haircut and a smartening up. God, she was starting to sound like Carol, any second now she’d be telling him he needed to settle down and write a five year plan.
She smiled and she saw it in his eyes. That recognition. He took her hand and linked it through his arm and past lover faded to friend. Sly would never pursue what he knew he couldn’t attain, the challenge only appealed when he knew he could win the race. The lust hadn’t faded away, it had been extinguished, a single brushstroke wiping it away forever. Sly was no hesitant artist who dabbled and changed, he attacked the canvas, unforgiving and bold. Just like he’d attacked her.
He dropped a light kiss on the top of her head. “Show me.”
They walked in silence the short distance to the barn and the instant they stepped inside his hand slipped away as he gazed upwards into the darkness.
“A perfect retreat, my dear.” He slowly turned, taking in every inch of the barn with an artist’s eye that placed every detail, saw every sweep of light and shade. The smile that broke through this time was genuine, not his moody genius look, as he placed one hand either side of her face and stared straight into her eyes. “Let me count the ways I took thee.”
She sighed. “You’ve gone very poetic, except even I know that’s a serious misquote.”
“Being with you makes me that way.”
“I bet it does.” Neither of them had heard him approach, but he was stood, framed in the barn entrance, the sunlight wrapped around him. A tall defiant figure, arms folded, legs hip width. Jake. The soft words reaching out to them in the cavernous space.
“Oh, it does.” Sly’s voice was soft, but carried with the expertise of a lecturer, and the gentle kiss he dropped on her mouth was executed with the skill of an experienced lover. Then he slowly let his hands fall to his sides.
Georgie cringed, that was all she needed. Mr Judgemental. “You’re back.” That’s it girl, state the obvious.
“Don’t let me disturb you.”
“We won’t.” God, she wished he’d caught her in a clinch or something, anything. Well not anything.
Sly winked at her, kissed her again on the nose this time, his eyes twinkling. “Ah, so this is the obstacle in the way of our plans.”
Okay, Jake hadn’t needed to catch her doing anything, Sly was perfectly capable of winding a man up as effectively as he was of wooing a woman. And now he’d walked up to Jake and was studying him like a still life. Guaranteed to irritate.
“It’s been wonderful, darling.” He turned the slightest degree in her direction, but his attention was still on Jake. “I’d have stayed longer, hopefully I will next time? A week or two?” Yup, he was turning the handle, putting on the pressure. “Let’s talk in the car shall we?”
She could feel the seethe as she walked past Jake, but still didn’t expect it when he reached out and stopped her, strong fingers curled around her upper arm. Bad habit.
“Who the hell is that?”
“Part of my business plan.”
“Well it’s a pretty fucked up business. What do you want with someone like that?”
“You sound just like my father.”
“Has it ever occurred to you that sometimes he might have a point?”
“Has it never occurred to you that I might actually know what I’m doing?”
“That man’s a waster, and he’s old.” She could almost hear the ‘too old for you’.
“For your information,” okay she hadn’t planned on telling him anything, not yet, not until she had a clear idea in her own head, “he’s an artist.” His upper lip was heading for a sneer. “An acclaimed artist, and he was my tutor.”
“Your tutor? Looks like he still wants to give you a lesson or two.”
“Bastard.” She lashed out with her free hand, but it wasn’t free for long. Caught effortlessly before she had the satisfaction of contact.
“Well, come on you’re not an artist.”
She knew she was scowling at him, every muscle in her face competing to show just how angry she was.
“You are?” The pressure around her arm eased. “I didn’t—”
“You don’t know anything about me, Jake Harcourt. Now let go, Sly’s got a ‘plane to catch.”
“Sly?” The short laugh said it all.
Here we go again. She wasn’t even going to grace that with a response.
He suddenly sobered, let go of her completely. “I just don’t like the look of him.” His arm dropped to his side.
“You don’t say.”
“Georgie, the man…” He tailed off. “It’s none of my business.”
“Got it in one.”
What was the point in even slapping him? He hated her, he thought she was incapable, and he didn’t really care anyway. Just like Alfie. Her father had hated Sly on sight. Alfie was as traditional as they came, and he distrusted any man with long hair and artistic tendencies. As far as he was concerned, Sly needed a proper job. He wasn’t a proper man. And when he’d found out he was shagging his young daughter it confirmed every bigoted belief he held dear.
Georgie closed her eyes briefly. That had been one hell of an explosion that she never, ever wanted to see repeated in her life. It had rivalled the one when her mother had walked out, but this time the fury had been directed straight at her. And now Jake was headed to exactly the same place.
“Just,” he obviously wasn’t going to let up, she waited, “oh forget it, just do exactly what you want, like you always do.”
“Finished? I need to go, he’s got a ‘plane to catch.”
“So you said. Well let’s hope he misses the one back.”
Chapter Seven
“You’re wasting your time. Nobody in.”
The motorbike had headed straight to her house like it was a homing pigeon and even Jake’s first rap had been angry, by the time he’d progressed to what must have been the sixth or seventh attempt at raising her he’d been close to riding up the steps and ramming the bloody door at 50 mph.
Now, as the soft tone broke through his impatience he spun round expecting to be furious. But oddly, he wasn’t. He was pleased to see her. “You are. You’re in.”
“Nope, not my front door anymore.”
“It is, I dropped you—”
“I’ve been demoted to the apartment.” She nodded to the right. “But I heard the bike.”
“You didn’t answer your ‘phone.”
“I put it on mute, it was annoying me.”
He’d wanted answers the moment she walked out on him, with her aged hippy of an artist, so he’d rung. No answer. And with each unanswered call his gut had twisted tighter and his need to know had escalated until he knew he was being ridiculous. Acting out of character. But when it had hit 9pm he’d decided he had a choice. Go and find her, or get drunk. He’d opted for the first.
I mean, just who was the guy? Friend, lover? The way he’d had his hands on her, the way he’d kissed her like he was staking some kind of claim, like some stud marking his territory, the way she’d let him. That wasn’t about casual acquaintances. That was the way lovers behaved. Lovers with unfinished business.
Jake could feel the muscles in his shoulders curl up a bit tighter. Why would a girl like Georgie let someone like that into her life? A dead-end idiot who knew a good thing when he saw it. Rich, young, sexy. He didn’t know what bothered him more, the fact that Georgie seemed happy to go along with it, or the fact that he wanted to stop it. He needed to know if the guy was on his plane, and he needed to know exactly why Georgie has walked into his life and seemed set on turning it upside down and inside out. If he was going to get fucked, he wanted to know why.
She’d taken her mobile out of her pocket and was waving it at him.
“See, no sound.” She glanced at the display. “Oh, yeah, you have been trying to get hold of me.” Raised an eyebrow, part quizzical, part mischief. “What it is to be popular.” But the tone was dry.
He sighed with exasperation. Yeah, he knew that feeling, when he could have thrown his mobile in a bucket of water. But she’d just been avoiding him, not the rest of the world. “You can’t just ignore me.” Her raised eyebrow said she could. “We had a deal.”
“A deal, it doesn’t mean you own me, I just said I’d give you a hand when I could. And today I couldn’t.”
“Why not? Busy with your artist friend?”
“I told you, he was catching a plane. Not that it’s any of your business.”
Zara Stoneley Page 8
