I can’t think of a way to mention the fact without making the situation even more mortifying.
‘Sure, no problem.’ Cal seems to be enjoying my predicament, or maybe he’s just enjoying the fact that I’m asking for help and having to rely on him. His fingers are gentle as they unhook the thorns from my dress, one by one. ‘Have you heard that spending just twenty minutes in contact with nature lowers your stress hormones?’
‘Ha ha, is that so?’ I grit my teeth and wince when he unhooks a thorn from my thigh. His fingers travel higher up and I go rigid.
‘Sorry,’ he says. ‘I’ll try to be more gentle with the next one.’
I don’t bother to explain that I’m tense for another reason altogether. Instead I close my eyes and just hope he doesn’t notice.
Cal seems to enjoy the experience of extracting me from the hedge far more than I do. Although all the accidental touching and brushing up against me is definitely having an effect of a very distracting nature. His hands linger on my body once I’m out and he runs his eyes over me.
Flump is at Cal’s feet, also scrutinising me, head tilted as he tries to puzzle out why I’m making such a meal out of hopping through the hedge.
‘That thing about stress hormones?’ I try to divert attention from the growing sexual tension.
‘What about them?’
‘I’m no scientist but I think the stress hormone effect might be negated if the trees are actually attacking you.’ I look down at the torn hem of my nightdress and the trickle of blood running down the back of my leg.
‘Hey, it was self-defence,’ he says, a definite twinkle in his eye. ‘You just launched yourself at the hedge, no introductions, what do you expect?’
‘Hmm.’ I attempt a withering glare, but it seems to glance right off of Cal’s sunny mood.
‘You could do with cleaning those scratches. Would you like me to help? I have first-aid training because of working in kitchens.’ Callum attempts a more solemn expression and I can’t help but smile back at him. It’s hard to stay cross with him for long.
I’m aware one of the scratches on my chest is near one of my breasts and imagine his fingers gently caressing me. His touch, while disengaging me from the thorns, was surprisingly tender. I have no doubt that some of the touching was not accidental but it’s not like I didn’t enjoy it.
I enjoyed it too much, that’s the problem. I’ve just about got used to our chats and have been kidding myself I can keep Cal in the friend zone.
‘I’ll be okay, thank you.’ I pick Flump up, concerned he might run after Cal instead of coming with me. That would be mortifying. ‘And thanks for helping me get Flump back, yet again. I really appreciate it.’
I am genuinely thankful for his help with Flump, who seems utterly determined to get himself into as many precarious situations as possible, just to keep me on my toes. Having someone else with me definitely helped to keep my panic in check.
‘At least let me put antiseptic cream on those scratches. Did you know you’ve got a nasty one here?’ Cal lightly touches the back of my neck and I shiver.
‘I’m sure I can manage.’ I stare down at the top of Flump’s head, aware my voice lacks conviction and that my skin is flushing pink at the thought of Cal touching me again. Yes, I might be sore and look like someone has been using me as a pincushion but evidently my body is still capable of arousal.
‘Don’t be an eejit.’ Cal deliberately thickens his Irish brogue to make me smile. ‘You can’t even see half the scratches, let alone reach them. I promise it will all be above board. Flump can be your chaperone if you like?’
I laugh and roll my eyes. ‘You’re the eejit, Cal.’
‘That is the worst Irish accent I’ve ever heard.’
‘It was deliberately bad. I was being ironic, obviously.’ I grin. ‘Okay, I’ll confess, I totally wasn’t, I’m just really crap at accents.’
‘Definitely a little eejit.’ Cal puts an arm around me as we head back to the house.
‘Ow.’
‘Sorry.’ He moves his arm. ‘I’ll make it up to you. I always wanted to be a doctor.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, I always have been fascinated by science, and how things work. Plus, I used to enjoy playing the game Operation. Do you happen to have a funny bone that needs removing? Because I’m pretty handy with a pair of tweezers.’
‘Ha ha. No, I’m good, thank you.’ I giggle. ‘See, my funny bone is intact and working!’
I realise I’ve laughed more since Cal arrived at Les Coquelicots than in the whole of the rest of the year put together. It reminds me of who I used to be, makes me feel more myself somehow. It feels … nice. Nicer than nice. Resisting Cal is getting more and more difficult. I’m finding it hard to remember why it’s worth protecting myself. This is one risk that is looking pretty attractive from where I’m standing.
‘You’re a good girl, are you?’ Cal’s eyes are teasing.
‘Hardly,’ I say and think desperately of how to change the subject before the rest of me turns as pink as my neck. ‘So, why didn’t you study medicine then?’
‘Let’s say my dedication to study didn’t match my enthusiasm.’ Cal shrugs. ‘I’m an intellectual butterfly, flitting from subject to subject as something new grabs my interest. So many things to discover, places to go, girls to kiss … you know.’
I bite my lip, losing my battle with the flush that has spread to my cheeks. There’s no way he hasn’t noticed. My body may as well be signalling my interest with a neon sign.
The silence stretches between us, comfortable but charged, crackling with sexual electricity. I abandon my attempts to defuse it or damp it down and decide to enjoy it instead. It’s been a long time since I felt like this.
‘I think I can imagine,’ I reply eventually and open the back door to Les Coquelicots, putting Flump down on the floor.
‘If you sit down at the kitchen table I’ll go and get the antiseptic cream and some wipes,’ Cal offers, briefly touching my elbow before he heads off upstairs to the bathroom where we keep most of my first-aid supplies.
I can feel the anticipation coiling inside me, a mixture of fear, emotional desire and physical attraction bubbling up and spilling over. I fiddle with my torn nightdress hem and nibble anxiously at my lower lip.
When he comes back with the first-aid box and gently pulls the top of my nightdress down at the back so he can use alcohol wipes on the scratches, I can’t help starting a little at the contact.
‘Sorry, did that hurt?’
‘Um, yes, a little bit.’
Sure, that would be why I jumped. Absolutely nothing to do with Cal touching my neck. I’ve always found my neck is particularly sensitive to male attention but that’s not a piece of information I’m about to volunteer willingly.
When his fingers gently brush away strands of hair on my neck that have come loose from my ponytail I inhale sharply, and my pulse quickens.
I glance round at Cal and catch a knowing gleam in his eyes, a warm, teasing light that is more playful than predatory. My skin flushes. I can’t help my body responding to him. His fingers linger on the pulse point on my neck.
‘Did you know the heart beats on average one hundred thousand times a day? That’s thirty-five million times a year.’
‘How can you possibly remember that?’ I ask.
‘I like trivia. Like I said, I’m particularly interested in anything science-based.’ He disposes of the first lot of alcohol wipes in the kitchen bin and grabs some more. ‘I used to read a lot of How to… and Science for Boys type books as a child and I still read widely on topics that interest me.’
He picks up the cream and I tilt my head forward to make it easier for him to apply it. I notice the scratch on my chest and wonder if he’s seen it. The thought of the hands that are so tenderly ministering to my back slipping around to do the same to my chest makes my heart rate pick up. I think my heart will be beating a lot more than one hundred thousand times tod
ay, thanks to Cal.
‘So, any more interesting facts about the heart to share?’ I ask in an effort to distract myself from the thrumming of my own.
He leans over me to dab at the scratch on my chest. His lips are close to my right ear and I can’t help silently begging for his mouth to close the gap. Maybe he picks up my signal because I swear his lips oh so gently brush against my earlobe and a not so gentle shock of sexual electricity courses through me.
His fingers trace down from my collarbone to my heart where he places the palm of his hand over my nightdress. He moves slowly, giving me the opportunity to stop him at any time. I can’t bring myself to stop him. My skin prickles deliciously to his touch. It feels almost unbearably intimate. There is no way to hide the rapid thrumming of my heartbeat now. No hiding how turned on I am by him.
‘The heart is the most powerful source of electromagnetic energy in the body. The field actually extends way beyond the surface of our bodies. There’s even evidence that our hearts emit complicated signals, like they are transmitting information. These signals can be picked up by other people, subconsciously of course. So, if you ever get a bad vibe from someone, you’re probably basing it on more than just a subjective feeling.’
‘Seriously?’
‘Yes, our hearts are talking to each other.’
‘Like the trees?’
‘Like the trees. There’s always a lot more going on beneath the surface than we think.’
My heart is doing a bit more than talking at the moment: more like it’s doing the conga at a booze-heavy office party. I get up and twist around, leaning back against the kitchen table as I tentatively place my own hand over Cal’s heart, and he replaces his on mine.
‘We can even influence each other’s heart rates.’ Cal’s eyes are dark now, almost indigo blue as his gaze locks on mine.
Now that isn’t news to me. Cal has been influencing my heart rate since the moment I met him. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so vibrant or so interested in the world around him. Aiden had charisma of a sort, but it quickly became apparent that the only planet he was interested in was the planet Aiden.
Cal’s energy stirs me, makes me want to know more, to experience more and to start looking outwards, to the world around me, instead of the inward, centred life I’ve been living since I went into hiding.
I’m holding my breath, wondering whether he’s going to kiss me, how far he plans to take this. It could just be a flirtation. I’m sure that for some men flirting is like breathing, instinctual and unthinking. For others maybe they like to know that they can still attract a woman; they don’t really plan to take it much further than flirty banter and enjoyment of sexual tension. As for Cal? I have no idea what he really wants from me.
For that matter I don’t know what I want. I want him to kiss me, of course I do … But mixed in with the genuine desire and magnetic attraction is a lingering anxiety that nags at me like an unrelenting toothache. It can’t be calmed by desire or soothed by anything except trust. Can I trust Cal? It’s far too soon to tell. My body says yes but my body has been wrong before.
I want him, I really do, but I’m unclear about his motives. Does he just want to be able to say he fucked the girl from the sex tape when he goes back to his real life?
Also, there’s one hell of a difference between coming out of hiding to live a relatively quiet life and switching a great big spotlight on myself by dating another celebrity.
I stay paralysed by conflicting desire and indecision.
Instead of leaning in for a kiss Cal’s fingers skim under the hem of my nightdress, lifting it up a little. My breath hitches again and my body tingles in a most delicious way, my skin prickling with anticipation. This is pretty forward for a next move.
But instead of lifting it up high enough to display my lack of underwear he takes his other hand from my chest and grabs another antiseptic wipe to clean up the nasty scratch on my thigh.
From the twitch of his lips I’m guessing he knew exactly what I was thinking and that he might already know I’m not wearing anything underneath. He then trails a finger up my body, over the hem of my nightdress and over my hip, taking me totally by surprise when he goes in for a tickle.
I giggle. God help me, Cal has turned me into a giggler! Then I wriggle away, half relieved, half disappointed. Clearly, he’s not going to take this further until he gets a full green light from me, rather than a light that keeps flickering from green to amber and back again.
‘Just checking your funny-bone response, to see if it needs removing with tweezers.’ He grins. ‘As I recall from my highly educational game of Operation it’s located just about here.’
He reaches out and tickles me again before I can get away and I squirm. I can’t even remember the last time I was tickled. It’s fun. I’m having fun. My mind dimly recognises the unusual concept.
That Cal decided to make me laugh rather than trying to get into my pants make me like him all the more.
Can I trust him? Only time can tell me the answer to that. My impatient, horny hormones are going to have to take a number and get in line.
Chapter 8
‘And suddenly you know: It’s time to start something new & trust the magic of beginnings’
Meister Eckhart
One week later Cal persuades me to leave Flump at home so we can go on a field trip he promises is necessary research but sounds suspiciously like a dinner date. The setting for Château Abbeye de Camon couldn’t be more idyllic. The pretty, rural village of Camon is surrounded by forest and fields of sunflowers.
‘I can’t believe we’re eating somewhere that’s over a thousand years old.’ I peer out of the car window at my first sign of the Château.
‘I’ve heard great things about the food here,’ Cal says, pulling Leo’s jeep up onto the gravel driveway inside the Château’s grounds. ‘It’s deliberately kept to a small scale so the chef can pay attention to detail and create something special. It’s the kind of vibe I’d like to get going for The Barn.’
Cal proposed this meal out as a research trip given we’re still waiting for the contractors to finish the electrics and plumbing at the barn before we can go any further. It all sounds very plausible, but I have to say it’s really starting to feel like a date. He’s looking really handsome in a pale blue shirt that seems to make his eyes even more piercing than usual. I’ll admit I dressed up too, wearing a dress that shows off my cleavage instead of hiding it. I also put on perfume and a little light make-up.
I even shaved my legs. Not because I’m going to have sex with Cal tonight. I’m not. It’s just … in case.
Like the pretty lingerie set I’m wearing is just to make myself feel nice.
Oh, who am I kidding? I know I probably, really, absolutely shouldn’t sleep with him, but I so want to. Over the past week the sexual tension between us has been mounting until I’m practically fit to combust. It’s like Cal has laid the fire but he won’t strike a match until I say so. I’m starting to think it’s a deliberate strategy, to get me going to the point where I practically beg him. He wants it to be my choice and he wants me to be ready. All the accidental touches and lingering glances that pass between us haven’t helped one bit. Not to mention the intense way he has of focusing on me as though I were the most fascinating person he’s ever met … I’m sure he looks at everyone like that but God, it’s working. Our conversations during our evening walks have helped me get to know him better, to understand his passion, his keen intelligence and a mind that’s always asking questions.
Combined with just the right amount of alpha cheekiness and I’m a goner.
I sigh.
‘Are you okay, JoJo?’
I nod as Cal takes my arm and we enter a long corridor. The floor and walls are made of ancient stone. I catch glimpses of centuries-old tapestries and wide-open fireplaces in the rooms we pass. It’s been beautifully renovated and yet still retains the peaceful feel of an old abbey.
The dini
ng room is small, with an intimate feel. There are stiff white tablecloths and a candle alight on each table, glinting off the gold gilt picture frames and candlesticks. There are murals on the walls depicting a Château Camon from centuries ago.
‘Poppy would love it here,’ I say. ‘She’s a real history nut. I’ll have to get Leo to bring her. I think she’s a bit frazzled at the moment with all the extra work she’s taken on with the gallery and the wedding planning. A lot of the stress is coming from her mum. She keeps sending her all these passive-aggressive emails.’
‘All women are passive-aggressive,’ Cal replies solemnly.
‘They are not.’ I swat his arm.
‘True, some are just aggressive.’ He grins and I roll my eyes at him, not deigning to answer a remark made just to wind me up.
‘But you’re helping with the wedding, aren’t you?’ Cal asks, handing me a menu. ‘More than just the reception at The Barn, I mean.’
‘Assuming we manage to get The Barn up and running in time, you mean?’ I raise an eyebrow. The contractor delays and the discovery of a burst pipe underground have put everything behind schedule.
‘Should I touch wood or cross myself?’
‘Cross yourself,’ I say. ‘After all, this is an old abbey.’
He crosses himself.
‘Cal!’
‘What? You told me to, and I am an Irish Catholic, it’s part of my muscle memory. Anyway, the arrangements for the wedding – all going okay?’
‘Um, sort of,’ I reply distractedly and refuse to let my mind run over all the unchecked items in my ‘do-it’ list.
I cast my eyes down the menu. There’s Roquefort soufflé to start with, then asparagus soup with a deep-fried risotto ball, scallops, lamb and then a trio of desserts or cheeseboard.
‘This looks seriously yummy.’ I put the menu back down on the table.
‘Would you like to help me plan the menu for the reception?’
I look up to find Cal’s blue eyes fixed on me. Always so intense … so sexy … My mind goes blank for a minute. Well, not blank exactly … I have to chase out thoughts of what it would be like to have those piercing eyes on me during sex, while he’s inside me.
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