Her eyes stung and an old memory flashed up of when she’d accidentally dropped a bottle of Tim’s favourite claret. It had smashed on the kitchen tiles and Tim had looked at her with exactly the same disgust as Jake tonight.
She closed her eyes, inhaling slowly and deeply, breathing in the citrus-scented bath oil. Resolve stole through her, silent but certain. Coming here to Willowbrook had been a fresh start for her. She was doing the job she loved and living her life the way she wanted to for the first time. She wouldn’t allow anyone to make her feel small or inadequate or disappointing any more. Certainly not Jake Hartwood.
And he was her client. Yet another reason not to get involved with him. Although her bank balance was healthy enough now to see her through to the New Year, she didn’t want to lose a customer.
Anyway, Tim had taught her a lesson she wasn’t planning to forget in a hurry. She didn’t need a man in her life. Certainly not a complicated ice man, who was still grieving for his dead wife.
Jake opened one eye and looked at the clock.
He looked again. How late? He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept so long, or so soundly.
But the feeling of peace didn’t last. He stilled as he remembered last night.
The ball.
Evie.
He tossed aside the duvet and strode across to the window. He swept the curtains open and his gaze homed in on the knot garden and the ancient yew tree under which they’d taken shelter from the snow.
What had he been thinking?
He hadn’t been thinking. That was the problem. He’d been feeling.
Lust, hunger, need. Just the thought of Evie in that eye-catching figure-hugging dress and those big wide eyes smiling up at him was enough to reawaken the sensations in him, and they were so strong, so fresh, that panic ripped through him. He marched into the shower, slamming the door behind him. Water and soap streaked over him, but he couldn’t wash away the guilt or the shame.
What did it say about him that he’d so easily forgotten Maria last night? What kind of man was he that he could use Evie like that? Leading her on, kissing her as if it meant something – when he knew full well it didn’t. Disgusted with himself, he snatched up a towel and dried himself with quick, angry strokes. Had he really laid aside all thoughts of his wife for a few moments of physical pleasure? How could he trample her memory like that, undermining the promises they’d made and the love they’d shared? It was the ultimate betrayal, when he had loved her – still loved her – so deeply.
He pulled on a black sweater and looked at his watch. He had to speak to Evie and set the record straight.
Jake knocked on the door, then stepped back. The cobbled lane was quiet. Some of the upstairs windows still had their curtains drawn, but Evie’s were open, and a reassuring spiral of smoke was weaving its way up from her chimney.
‘We won’t stay long,’ he promised Smoke, and patted the dog, who peered at him with questioning eyes.
The cottage door opened.
‘Jake! What are you doing here?’
‘I – ah – can I have a quick word?’
‘Yes, of course. Come in.’ Her hair spilled freely around her shoulders, the honey-coloured threads catching the morning light as she stepped back to let him enter. ‘Smoke can come in too.’
The dog licked her hand enthusiastically as she greeted him and followed her to a small kitchen area where she put a bowl of water out for him.
Jake eyed the stove. ‘Your pan’s boiling over.’
‘Pan? Oh!’ Evie snatched it away just in time. ‘Hold on, I’d better switch everything off or I’ll burn the place down.’
Jake nodded politely. His stomach growled fiercely when she pulled a tray of bacon out from under the grill. It smelt delicious and he suddenly regretted not having eaten breakfast before leaving the house.
‘Tomato soup and bacon sandwiches,’ she said. ‘Do you want some? I’ve made plenty.’
On the counter there were three bread rolls and she quickly filled them. Jake’s mouth watered. He dug his hands deeper into his coat pockets and shook his head. ‘No, thanks. I’m afraid I can’t stay.’
Her shoulders dropped. ‘Oh. In that case, I’ll keep them warm for later.’ She hurriedly piled them onto a tray, chattering as she did so. ‘They’re not all for me, by the way. I always make extra for George and Dorothy. They both love a bacon sandwich, but you know what it’s like when you live alone – it doesn’t seem worth the trouble …’
He listened to her cheerful patter and guilt twisted inside him as he prepared himself for what he had to say. But what alternative did he have? To lead her on would be even more wrong.
‘Ow!’ She snatched her hand back from the open oven and sucked her finger.
‘What happened?’ asked Jake.
She blinked rapidly. ‘I caught my finger on the shelf. Burned it.’
He crossed the small space in a couple of strides. Her finger glistened an angry shade of red. ‘Run it under the cold tap. Here.’ He flicked open the tap and took her hand, carefully angling her finger down so the water flowed over it.
A few seconds had passed before he became aware of how close they were standing, the touch of her hand in his, and the way she was looking up at him from beneath her lashes. Warily. A pulse flickered at the base of her throat and he thought of their kiss last night. Of how her lips had looked so dark and full in the shadowy light and how his head had spun with intoxicating need. His muscles tightened. He remembered how it had felt to press her body against his, how soft and warm she’d been despite the cold night air. He remembered clearly the sensations he’d experienced as he’d brushed his lips against her petal-soft skin and she’d sighed with pleasure—
Abruptly, he stepped back. ‘Keep it there – like that,’ he ordered, motioning to her finger.
She ducked her gaze away and gave a tiny nod. He closed the oven door, then moved away. The sound of running water filled the small cottage as they stood in awkward silence.
‘You said you wanted a word?’ Evie said quietly. She barely looked at him but kept her gaze on her injured hand.
‘Yes. About last night. I – ah –’ he cleared his throat ‘– I kissed you and I – I …’
Smoke finished lapping water and settled himself near her feet.
‘And?’ she said, darting Jake a hooded glance.
He swallowed. ‘I shouldn’t have done it. I’m sorry. You see, I, ah …’ He felt as if he was about to hit her with a sledgehammer, and in that moment he hated himself for what he’d done – and what he was about to do.
‘Let’s not make a big deal of it,’ Evie jumped in quickly.
He looked up in surprise, quickly followed by relief.
‘It was just a kiss at the end of a great party. No big deal.’
He didn’t know what to say.
‘I really enjoyed it,’ she went on, adding hastily, ‘the party, I mean.’
‘You did?’
‘Yes.’ She shot him a halogen smile, bright enough to light up the entire village. It suddenly occurred to him that perhaps she kissed men all the time. She was young, pretty and single – why not?
‘And that kiss – it was a rebound thing.’
Jake was struggling to find words. This wasn’t how he’d expected her to react at all. ‘Okay … Well, that’s fine, then.’ He breathed a sigh of relief.
Yet he felt a plunging sensation too. Disappointment?
His fingers reached for the chain around his neck. Of course he wasn’t disappointed. Evie was an acquaintance, nothing more, and what had happened last night had been a momentary aberration on his part, a glitch. Primitive urges taking over.
She nodded, and for the briefest of moments he thought he saw a splinter of hurt flicker in her eyes. But then she smiled again. ‘So, can we agree to pretend it never happened?
‘It never happened,’ he confirmed.
Evie closed the door behind him, then sank down into the sofa. Oh, God, could t
hat have been more humiliating? His visit had caught her so much by surprise that she’d initially hoped—
Fool that she was. With hindsight it had been obvious why he’d come.
She buried her face in her hands as she thought of how his eyes had been clouded with shadows and how pale he’d looked, dressed all in black like a mourner.
What had she thought – that he’d kissed her because he felt something? She knew he was still grieving for his wife – he’d told her how much he missed her. She was the love of my life and always will be …
His wife had been intelligent, sophisticated and accomplished. Evie could never compete with a woman like that. She couldn’t even hope to come close. She was just Evie Miller, klutz extraordinaire.
That kiss had been a mistake. He’d probably had one glass of wine too many. Usually mistakes were her speciality, but it seemed even Jake Hartwood was capable of them. She lifted her chin and made herself breathe deeply.
Pretend it never happened, she’d said. It couldn’t be that hard. They simply had to go back to how things had been before. She could do that. She really could.
Her phone lit up and her parents’ number filled the screen. Her mind still working nineteen to the dozen, she answered distractedly.
‘Evie,’ said her mum. ‘I’m calling about Christmas. We’ve decided to accept Rupert and Angela’s invitation.’
Her palms began to sweat and she had to grip the phone tighter to prevent it slipping out of her hand. Her heart thumped. No. This couldn’t be. Just when she’d thought today couldn’t get any worse.
Chapter Ten
‘Nat, I can’t.’ A long strand of hair had escaped from her messy bun and Evie wound it around her finger. She’d popped into the flower shop to deliver a Christmas card when Natasha had broken the news to her that Jake was also invited to dinner with her and Luc on Wednesday.
‘Please, Evie. Lottie’s really looking forward to it, and we’d like to see you before we go away.’ Natasha put down the bouquet she’d been making and wiped her hands. She unfastened her apron, revealing a fifties-style tartan dress as colourful as the buckets of bright flowers that surrounded her.
‘It’s kind of you,’ said Evie, ‘but I can’t – not if Jake’s there. Things are … awkward between us now. Perhaps we could do gifts another time, just you and me.’
Natasha’s blonde head tilted as she considered everything Evie had told her about the ball and the kiss and his visit the previous day. ‘Are you sure you don’t have feelings for him?’
‘No!’ Evie said quickly. She felt a flicker of hesitation as she remembered the heat of his kiss. Did she?
No. Definitely not. She enjoyed his company, she sympathised over his loss and desperately wanted to see him smile again, but she didn’t have feelings for him.
‘He’s still in love with his wife, Nat. I doubt he’ll ever love anyone else.’
‘Of course he will. He just needs time to get over his grief.’
‘No … No one else will ever measure up in his eyes.’
A motorbike roared past and they glanced out of the window. Across the road the Button Hole was still in darkness. It was nearly nine o’clock and time to open for the day; Evie didn’t have long.
‘You know,’ Natasha said carefully, ‘living in a place as small as Willowbrook you’re bound to run into him again. Especially since you’re both good friends of ours. There’s no avoiding him. Isn’t it better to get it out of the way sooner rather than later?’
Evie bit her lip. Natasha had a point.
‘It’s just dinner, Evie. Please come.’
Her friend’s imploring look tugged at her. Natasha was right: there would be no avoiding him completely. And wouldn’t it be better to get that next awkward meeting over and done with? Plus, she could tell her friend would be disappointed if she pulled out now. Natasha had been such a good friend to her since she’d moved to Willowbrook. When Evie had arrived in the village knowing nobody, Natasha hadn’t lost any time in coming over to introduce herself and invite her out for drinks with Suzie and to meet her family, Luc and Lottie. Evie didn’t want to risk damaging that friendship for the sake of Jake Hartwood and a kiss.
She sighed. ‘You’re right. If I avoid him it will look as if I care. What time should I come over?’
Evie lifted her hand to knock at the door of Poppy Cottage, then hesitated. She looked down at the bouquet in her hand. She could still leave – it wasn’t too late. She could run away and text Natasha to say she wasn’t feeling well …
She glanced behind her at Jake’s classic car parked by the verge.
No. Running away would be a coward’s way out. She drew her shoulders back and knocked hard and loud.
Natasha opened the door and greeted her with open arms. Evie hugged her and gave her the flowers.
‘What’s this?’ asked Natasha. ‘A bouquet of fabric flowers?’
‘Well, I couldn’t very well buy a bunch from you to give back to you, so I made these instead,’ Evie explained. She had used vintage fabrics which reminded her of the tea dresses Natasha liked to wear, and she’d glued the roses onto twigs and fixed them in a wooden display box. The overall effect was modern and unique.
‘They’re amazing! I love them.’ Then Natasha whispered, ‘If it’s any consolation, he looks dreadful. Really pale and drawn.’
‘Only because he regrets what happened,’ said Evie.
‘Teevie!’ Lottie came galloping into the hall.
‘Hey, Princess!’ Evie crouched to say hello to the little girl who was all ready for bed in yellow striped pyjamas.
Natasha smiled down at her daughter. ‘It’s Auntie Evie – can you say that, Lottie?’
Lottie nodded and repeated solemnly, ‘Teevie.’
Evie and Natasha laughed and went through to the lounge. The cottage looked gorgeous, decorated for Christmas with fairy lights strung across the ceiling, suspended from the wooden beams, and Evie could smell the pine scent of a real tree in the corner.
Luc rose to greet her with kisses – she always forgot that the French kissed on both cheeks – and as he did so, Jake stood up too.
‘Evie!’ he said. ‘I didn’t know you were coming tonight.’
Evie glanced nervously at Natasha, who looked with surprise at her husband. ‘Luc, didn’t you mention Evie was coming?’
‘I can’t remember.’ He shrugged in that characteristic French way. ‘My mistake if I didn’t. But I’m sure you’re as happy to see Evie as we are, aren’t you, Jake?’
‘Yes – of course,’ said Jake. A little too quickly. He bent to kiss her lightly on one cheek, but she couldn’t bring herself to meet his eye.
‘Have you finished making all Jake’s curtains?’ asked Luc, glancing at Lottie, who was riffling through a box of toys, searching for something.
‘Not yet. There are still a few rooms left, but I did the important ones in time for Christmas.’
Jake was watching her with an unreadable expression. She glanced away quickly and kept her attention on Lottie, who toddled across to him with a book.
‘Thank you, Lottie.’ He opened it with exaggerated pleasure, which made the little girl beam. He patted the seat beside him and Lottie climbed up. She popped her thumb into her mouth and settled down.
Watching him with the toddler, Evie had the strange sensation of a seam unravelling. She ignored it. So he was good with small children. Why should she care? They’d clearly established that he wasn’t interested, and she was concentrating on building up her business. Nothing else.
‘Why doesn’t Uncle Jake read you that book upstairs, Lottie?’ suggested Natasha. ‘It’s bedtime for sleepy girls.’
Lottie seemed happy with that arrangement and Evie watched, fascinated, as Jake lifted her easily into his arms and carried her away. It was difficult to reconcile the man before her with the haughty figure she’d met on the night of the snowstorm.
Luc vanished into the kitchen, and Natasha went through to the ora
ngery, where she began to lay out plates and cutlery. ‘Here, let me help with that,’ said Evie.
They could hear Jake’s deep voice over the baby monitor. Lottie was babbling away and he was coaxing her into her cot. She quietened down and he read her the story, not in a monotone, but with child-friendly inflections that made Evie and Natasha giggle. The low rumble of his voice was soothing.
‘He’s good with Lottie, isn’t he?’ said Evie, as she smoothed a linen napkin.
‘Don’t sound so surprised,’ said Luc, coming in with a bottle of wine in each hand.
‘I am surprised,’ said Evie. ‘He’s not the most sociable of men usually.’
When he’d kissed her he’d taken her by surprise, too. She thought of the passion that had unexpectedly darkened his eyes as he’d drawn her to him and their lips had met …
She cut off that train of thought. Forget it happened, she told herself, but the heat coiled from her centre regardless.
‘He is good with Lottie,’ Natasha agreed. ‘She adores him.’
A short while later the monitor went quiet, and they heard Jake’s footsteps on the stairs. ‘I left the book with her,’ he told Luc and Natasha. ‘She wanted to look at the pictures.’
‘Yes, she reads to her teddies,’ smiled Luc, as he popped the cork on the red wine.
‘Well, she tries to,’ said Natasha. ‘She makes the sounds but they’re not necessarily real words. Sit down. Dinner’s all ready.’
Evie tried not to feel offended when Jake sat diagonally opposite her, putting as much distance as possible between them. Natasha served them with a tomato puff-pastry tart, glazed and golden from the oven. Evie’s mouth watered and she was glad she’d chosen to wear her red dress. Made from a soft cotton jersey, Tim had hated it, but she loved the colour and the fact that it stretched so she could eat as much as she wanted without worrying about buttons popping.
‘Evie?’ asked Luc, the wine bottle poised. She nodded and he filled her glass. ‘Jake?’
Jake shook his head.
‘You’re driving?’ asked Natasha.
The Christmas Holiday: The perfect heart-warming read full of festive magic Page 15
