by Maggie Cox
‘Would you mind if I freshened up? You know what it’s like after making a journey … even a first-class one … you can feel quite washed out.’ Awkwardly, hardly even knowing if the words that spilled out of her mouth made any sense at all because of Jake’s disturbing proximity, she smoothed her hand down over the lapels of her long camel-coloured coat and moved towards the familiar tote Alain had left standing alongside her suitcase on the marble floor.
‘I asked my housekeeper Magdalena to prepare a room for you,’ he declared, stopping her in her tracks. ‘I’ll show you where it is.’
Why did he appear to be deliberately avoiding her gaze as he made this statement? Ailsa wondered. A pang of disquiet coiled in the pit of her stomach.
As if intuiting her confusion, he exhaled a deep sigh. ‘I didn’t want to presume that you’d want to share my room … plus, I thought you’d like a little privacy to gather your thoughts. Anyway, let me take that for you.’
Carrying her tote as well as her suitcase, Jake led her up the gracefully curving staircase, and as she followed him, silently admiring the impressive width of his shoulders beneath his coat and the straight dark gold hair that grazed his collar, she hoped he was being honest about the reason he was giving her a room of her own. Her insides boomeranged at the idea it might be because some other woman had recently shared his bed and perhaps had left some of her belongings there. After the intimacy they had shared at the cottage, just the thought of such a possibility made her feel ill.
As she’d anticipated, the room he showed her into was furnished in a very clean, ‘no frills’ elegant Scandinavian style. The furnishings were all painted in antique white and had a very appealing faded charm—shabby chic, as some designers called it. The ambience was restful and inviting, and definitely peaceful. Ailsa loved it straight away. Although, when her glance came to rest on the double bed, with its curved headboard inlaid with delicate floral marquetry, her heart skipped a regretful beat. Yes, it looked inviting and restful, but without Jake beside her she knew it would be a lonely experience sleeping there on her own.
‘The bathroom is just through here.’ He opened another door to reveal a dazzling en-suite, giving Ailsa a glimpse of graceful pine and polished stainless steel.
She smiled, wishing she didn’t feel so deeply disappointed at not being invited to share his room. If he was always hungry for her, as he’d asserted, then why hadn’t he asked her?
Moving to the doorway that led back onto the hall landing, he glanced down at his watch. ‘It’s very late. I think I’ll turn in too. In the morning, over breakfast, we can discuss when we’re visiting Saskia.’
‘I’d like to go as early as possible, if that’s okay?’
>‘That’s fine with me.’
‘Jake?’
‘What is it?’
‘We didn’t look at the letter she gave you—the one with her Christmas list in. I’d like us to glance over it together before we leave for your mother’s house.’
‘No problem.’
The smile he returned in answer to this request was brief and disappeared far too quickly—like a glimpse of sunlight that she wished would stay on a day that was grey and unpromising. One minute it gave her hope for better times to come, then in the next the clouds reappeared to cover it, leaving the day and the spirits gloomy again.
‘Goodnight, Ailsa. Sleep well, huh?’
The door clicked shut even as she murmured, ‘Goodnight. I hope you sleep well too.’
Going downstairs to find her way to the kitchen the next morning, Ailsa was greeted by Jake’s housekeeper, Magdalena. The woman was probably in her mid to late forties, had a crisply cut white-blond bob, and was tall and slim. Her eyes were as grey as an icy lake, but somehow managed to reflect genuine warmth despite their glacial hue. She was definitely a far cry from the plump and grandmotherly Rose, who had been their part-time housekeeper when Ailsa and Jake had lived in London.
‘God morgen. You must be Ailsa. I am so pleased to meet you at last.’
The woman greeted her as if she truly was pleased, and Ailsa’s small hand was soon engulfed by the blonde’s slender larger one. ‘And you must be Magdalena. I’m very pleased to meet you too.’ She smiled back.
‘I can now see where your lovely daughter gets her beauty from. What amazing hair you have, if you don’t mind my saying so.’
Alisa had sat in front of the dressing table mirror that morning and brushed out all the snags and tangles that had accumulated on her travels yesterday, as if psychologically she needed a bit of a boost to face the day. If she also wanted to look her best for the man who had once been her husband, then Ailsa kept that disturbing realisation to herself. Even though she’d slept surprisingly well, she was still smarting a little at Jake giving her a room of her own rather than inviting her to share his.
‘Thank you,’ she murmured in reply to the housekeeper’s compliment.
‘Why don’t you sit down at the breakfast table and I will get you a hot drink?’ Magdalena suggested.
‘A cup of tea would be great … thanks.’ Ailsa moved across to the rectangular pine table that was positioned opposite French windows overlooking a narrow but long garden. She shook her head with wry humour when she saw the light snowflakes that were tumbling from the skies. Already they were rendering the immaculate lawn lacy white.
Seeing the interested direction of her glance, the Danish housekeeper shrugged and smiled. ‘Most of the snow we have had over the last few days melted away yesterday. Today, when you and Mr Larsen are home, it returns! Little Saskia will be so pleased, yes?’
‘She’ll be overjoyed. I think she’s been praying for a white Christmas all year. By the way, do you know if Jake—if Mr Larsen is up yet?’
‘Goodness me, he got up hours ago! I made him a good breakfast and afterwards he went straight to his study to work. Your husband is a very early riser and he works so hard … He puts us all to shame.’
‘He’s not my hus—’
Ailsa’s pained admission that she and Jake weren’t married any more was prevented by Magdalena’s cheery, ‘My own husband Kaleb admires him greatly. Even though Kaleb is not as experienced as some of Larsen’s staff, he would work day and night for your husband—I know it.’ The cheery smile suddenly vanished, to be replaced by a soft, thoughtful frown. ‘He gave him a chance when no one else would even think of it. Kaleb was an alcoholic, you see,’ she explained. ‘He lost his brother after he’d helped take care of him through a long and crippling illness and it went downhill from there. He just lost the belief that anything mattered any more and started to drink. We—we had parted, and he was sleeping rough, living on the streets. Mr Larsen stopped to talk to him one evening, outside a conference centre where the company had been holding a meeting, and spoke to him for a long time. Yes … Mr Larsen helped him believe in himself again. When Kaleb and I got back together, he offered me this job as his housekeeper. I was working for a hotel chain before this, but I wasn’t happy there. Forgive me—I am talking far too much and you are probably longing for your cup of tea and some breakfast, yes?’
‘Please don’t apologise.’ Moved that this woman had shared her personal story of hardship and sadness with her, Ailsa felt her spirits lift at hearing of Jake’s great kindness to her and her husband. ‘I’m very glad that you shared this with me, Magdalena. Thank you.’
‘And I am glad that you do not mind me telling you about Kaleb and me. Now I will get you that cup of tea!’
‘Thank you.’
‘And, after I make the tea, what would you like for breakfast?’
The woman was already at the streamlined stainless steel cooker, placing a copper kettle onto a burner to boil. For a few uncertain moments Ailsa stared at the back of her precision-cut bob and neatly dressed figure, in an un-fussy ecru sweater and slim black skirt, and wondered how someone so obviously efficient and in such clear admiration of her boss’s work ethic and personal kindness would receive a request for just a slic
e of toast. She definitely got the feeling that ‘a good breakfast’ round here meant something a bit more substantial than that.
A much more appealing if risky idea slid into her mind. Already having located the state-of-the-art coffee machine, she moved towards it, reaching up to the pine shelving above, where the pristine white crockery was uniformly displayed, for a single cup and saucer. ‘I’d like to take a cup of coffee to Mr Larsen. Can you show me how this machine works, Magdalena?’
‘Of course.’ The older woman smiled approvingly. ‘It will be my pleasure.’
Finishing his umpteenth call to the office that morning, Jake threw his mobile phone down onto the satinwood desk, then leaned wearily back in his chair. Several thoughts jockeyed for precedence in his brain all at once. One fact was indisputable. He desperately needed some air to clear his head.
Glancing through the panoramic window in front of him, to see the flurry of snowflakes that were drifting down, he hoped the snow wouldn’t settle too deep—at least not until they had driven safely to his mother’s house in the country. Was Ailsa up yet? Had she slept at all last night? God knows, he hadn’t! He’d swear he’d barely shut his eyes for even a minute. How was he supposed to sleep when his body was gripped with a fever of need to hold her, to make love to her, to hear her whimper and moan his name out loud when she came?
He loosed a heartfelt curse under his breath. Had he imagined that her beautiful amber eyes had reflected disappointment when he’d shown her into her room last night? A room that she would sleep in alone? Still privately stunned that she’d agreed to come back to Denmark with him, Jake hadn’t wanted to push his luck by assuming she would continue to want to sleep with him. Common sense told him to tread carefully, even when his heart ached for him to risk everything. If he was too eager, too desperate, he reasoned it might just as likely drive Ailsa away. The last thing he wanted was to make her feel trapped.
Head in his hands, he let another groan escape him. It was a double-edged sword, he knew, but he could really use some more coffee to clear his thumping head and help him think straight!
Right on cue, there was a knock at the door. ‘Magdalena, you must be a mind-reader.’ He sat up straight, then swivelled round in the leather office chair that was on casters. At the unexpected sight of his svelte ex-wife in slim black cords and a pink V-necked sweater, her glorious chestnut hair flowing down over her shoulders to her hips, Jake stared in mute surprise. She was bearing a small tray with a single cup of coffee on it.
‘It’s me … not Magdalena.’
She threw him a smile that was naturally sweetly self-conscious—the sight of which made the blood thicken and slow in his veins. ‘So I see,’ he drawled.
‘I thought you might like some coffee?’
‘Coffee is always welcome … thanks.’
Moving towards the desk, Ailsa set down the tray beside Jake’s blotter. As she did so, his senses were held in thrall by the hypnotic scent of perfume and warmly beguiling woman. ‘There you are,’ she murmured, straightening to glance down at him.
‘And here you are,’ Jake answered, low-voiced, anchoring his palms either side of her slimly curvaceous hips and pulling her down onto his lap.
Even as her amber eyes rounded with shock his lips hungrily sought hers, and all thought of needing something to clear his head so that he could think straight went out of the window. When he was with this woman—this beguiling, intoxicating woman—he didn’t need to think. Not when all he wanted to do was to feel, to experience every glorious sensation, every touch of her arresting body right down to the very depths of his innermost being—just as though it was the purest, sweetest oxygen he could ever breathe.
As he curved his hand round the back of her neck to deepen the searching, ravenous kiss he intended on continuing for a long, long time, her freshly shampooed hair glanced warmly against his jaw, curtaining them both from the rest of the world. Gliding his tongue into the hot satin interior of Ailsa’s mouth was akin to submerging himself in the sweetest wild honey. When he felt her shapely bottom wriggle against his groin as she attempted to break off the feverish coupling of their lips, erotic near-scalding heat mercilessly hardened him.
Cupping her face, he made a sound that was half aroused groan, half dismayed protest at her calling a halt to the mindless pleasure he ached to prolong. ‘Have you any idea what you do to me?’ he husked.
‘I—if I have such an effect on you—an effect we both don’t seem able to fight—why didn’t you invite me to stay with you last night instead of giving me a room on my own?’
A faint bloom of dusky pink seeped into her cheeks as she posed the question, as if her own need embarrassed her. With his heartbeat thundering in his chest, Jake reached up to press the pad of his thumb almost fiercely across the exquisitely shaped mouth he could never seem to get enough of.
‘Did you want me to invite you to share my bed, Ailsa?’ he asked, gravel-voiced.
‘How do you expect me to know anything when you look at me like that?’ Clearly flustered, she sprang off of his lap to create a distance of several feet between them.
Jake got to his feet with a sigh that was part satisfaction and a whole lot frustration. ‘Like what? How am I looking at you? Why don’t you tell me, hmm?’
‘Like—like …’ She was coiling her hair round her ear, and even from a distance he could see that she trembled. ‘Like you want to eat me!’ she burst out, then spun away as if it was almost too much a test of endurance to stay facing him.
Chuckling, he dropped his hands to his jeans-clad hips. ‘What if I do? What if I want to touch you—to kiss you everywhere—to make your heart pound and your blood turn to fire? Would you let me, Ailsa?’
Slowly, as if helplessly fascinated, she turned back. ‘This is ridiculous. I only—I only came in here to bring you a cup of coffee.’
‘Why didn’t you just let Magdalena bring it?’
‘Because I …’ Her straight white teeth visited some unfair punishment on her plump lower lip. ‘Because I wanted to know if the reason you didn’t invite me to share your bed last night was because another woman had recently shared it with you!’
Jake walked slowly across the carpeted pine floor to plant himself in front of her. ‘Do you really believe that? The only reason I didn’t ask you to sleep with me last night was consideration for how you might be feeling. We’d had a long day’s travelling and you looked tired. I thought you’d have more rest in a bed of your own. It was simply that, Ailsa.’
‘Even so … you said—that is you told me that you don’t live like a monk, or words to that effect. You’re perfectly entitled, of course—to sleep with another woman, I mean. I haven’t forgotten we’ve been divorced for quite some time. But still I … I hoped … Oh, never mind. I hardly even know what I’m saying. The whole situation is just too crazy for words.’ She dropped her head to stare down at the floor.
With firm fingers, Jake raised her chin. Her beautiful amber eyes were a little moist, he saw. ‘Just so that you know … I’ve never brought a woman back home with me here to share my bed. When I’ve been with someone—and it’s only ever been purely for sex—I’ve taken her to a discreetly located hotel somewhere. The last time I was with a woman like that was about six months ago … okay?’
No, it’s not okay! Ailsa wanted to yell at him and then thump his chest. Her reaction was crazy, possessive and jealous, and she hardly knew what to do with the pain her feelings wrought inside her. She loved him. He had equally endured the devastating hurt of losing their baby, even if they hadn’t been able to stay together at the time, and she would always love him. For her, there was simply no other man nor ever would be. Jake was the father of their precious daughter and that counted for more than she could say. But even in the midst of her distress she knew it was hardly fair of her to expect him to have remained celibate for four long years.
She drew in a steadying breath and, stepping away from the touch that did indeed set her blood on fi
re, she made herself nod. ‘Okay. When you’ve finished working, do you think we can discuss when we’re going to see Saskia? Only the snow seems to be getting heavier, and we don’t want to leave it too late to travel.’
He smiled at her then, and his haunting eyes had never seemed more heavenly blue. ‘We’ll go just as soon as I’ve finished my coffee … happy now?’
‘Yes.’ Crossing her arms over her dusky pink sweater, Ailsa moved across to the door. ‘I’m happy. I’ll just go to my room and get myself ready.’
‘Ailsa?’
‘Yes?’
‘When we get back later on this evening, perhaps you’d like to move your things into my room?’
Swallowing down the egg-sized lump in her throat, she shrugged and murmured softly, ‘Okay …’
It was unfortunate, Jake told her, but he had to look over some documents as they travelled out of the city into the Danish countryside. Ailsa smiled at him, knowing that because of the past it made him feel uncomfortable to tell her that, and saw he clearly regretted having to work instead of relaxing with her. The quiet, silver-haired Alain was driving them, and they both made themselves comfortable in the luxurious heated seats in the back—Jake to work and Ailsa to enjoy the sights and scenery as they travelled, and also to anticipate the joy of being reunited with their little girl.
Thinking about Saskia jogged her memory about something important. She turned to the preoccupied, darkly attired man sitting next to her, knowing she wouldn’t think of disturbing him at all but for this one vital thing. His gaze was clearly absorbed in what he was reading, and there was a small but distinct frown between his dark gold brows as if what he read perturbed him in some way. Every now and then his pen scratched out several lines from the printed document resting on his lap.
‘Jake?’
‘Hmm?’ He didn’t even glance round.
‘Did you bring Saskia’s letter? I’d like to have a look at it if you did.’
