by Maggie Cox
Hearing Jenny’s voice again after being denied the sound for over two years…The effect it had always had on him ricocheted hotly through Rodrigo’s brain. Not to mention other sensitive parts of his body. As he listened to her croon now, to what he quickly deduced must be Lily’s pet cat, the napped velvet tones and cultured British accent were enough to raise goosebumps up and down his forearms and unquestioningly to arouse him. He blew out a breath. Steady, Rodrigo…he ruefully warned himself. She was still pretty mad at him, and had every right to be.
They’d been married for just over a year when he’d declared that they must part. Even now he could hardly believe he’d said the words—never mind seen them through. He should definitely rein in the almost instantaneous lust that had all but exploded through him at the sight of her tonight. Those luminous cornflower-blue eyes in a stunning oval face framed by a gilded curtain of shoulder-length blonde hair had always hit him where it hurt. He had never set out to wound her so badly. But—that aside—he had travelled to this spectacularly haunting part of the country for the purposes of business, not pleasure. And of all the startling scenarios he might have envisaged on this trip, having his beautiful ex-wife open the door to him on arrival at her friend’s guesthouse was not one of them—though he had to admit his spur-of-the-moment plan had been influenced by the hope of hearing news of her.
His heavy sigh was laden with equal parts of frustration and tension. He kicked off his Italian-made shoes and tore off his socks, allowing his long tanned feet to sink gratefully into the luxurious carpet, before stripping off his clothes and heading for the shower…
* * *
‘Do you have access to the internet here?’
‘What? Oh, yes…but the signal’s a bit dodgy. I mean, it comes and goes…especially in a storm like this.’
‘I feared as much.’
‘We’ll probably get connected again tomorrow, when things have calmed down a bit. You may as well resign yourself to a night of not working. Think you can cope?’
‘Very funny. Is this my coffee?’
‘Yes. Sit down and help yourself. I presume you still take sugar? At any rate I’ve added two.’
‘It’s still the one pleasure I cannot give up,’ Rodrigo joked. Seeing the glimpse of hurt that flitted across Jenny’s face, he could have bitten out his tongue. The truth was that she had been the hardest pleasure of all to give up. Going by the ache in his ribs and low down in his belly, she still was.
As he arranged himself at the table, a generous mug of coffee steaming invitingly before him along-side a neat round plate piled high with sandwiches fashioned out of thick-cut wholemeal bread, Rodrigo tried to smother the swift stab of longing that filled him as he stared at Jenny.
Pulling his gaze reluctantly away, he made a leisurely inventory of the homely, country-style kitchen that surrounded him. With its mismatched stand-alone oak and pine furniture, old-fashioned cooking range and long wooden shelves lined with quaint but fashionable china it was a million miles from the state-of-the-art bespoke modern interiors that his exclusive holiday resorts prided themselves on featuring. But its homespun charm was seductive and inviting all the same. In fact it reminded Rodrigo very much of the simple Andalucian farmhouse high in the Serrania de Ronda hills he had grown up in. He experienced a fierce pang of longing as the not very often explored memory unexpectedly gripped him.
‘This looks very good,’ he muttered, taking a swig of the burning coffee and a hungry bite of a ham and English mustard sandwich.
‘If you’d arrived earlier you could have had dinner…I cooked a cottage pie, but I’ve put what was left of it in the freezer now. Will this snack be enough for you? I’ve some fruitcake you can have afterwards with your coffee, if you like.’
As she talked, Jenny brought a decorative round tin to the table and opened it. Inside nestled a clearly homemade fruitcake that smelled mouthwateringly of cloves, cinnamon and nutmeg.
Rodrigo nodded approvingly. ‘I might have to take you up on that offer. You know how fond I am of homemade cake.’ His well-cut lips curved in a smile. ‘Is it one of yours?’
‘I made it, yes.’
‘Still the little home-maker, I see, Jenny Wren.’ The nickname he had settled on from the very first time they were together came out before he could halt it. The flawless alabaster skin bloomed hotly with what he guessed must be embarrassed heat. Checking his apology, he lazily watched to see what she would do next.
Outside, a flurry of stormy wind crashed against the windows, bringing with it a sleeting rush of hammering rain. Jenny’s clearly affected gaze locked with his.
‘Don’t call me that,’ she said brokenly, the volume of her voice descending almost to a whisper.
Beneath his black cashmere sweater, Rodrigo sensed tension grip his spine. ‘Why not?’
‘You forfeited the right when you told me our marriage was over…that’s why.’
‘Then I won’t use it again.’
‘Thank you. Besides…I told you it’s the name my father always called me, and he really loved me. Eat your food, Rodrigo, you must be hungry.’
Miserable with regret, he knew that any comment he made would likely pour petrol on an already simmering fire, and automatically crammed another bite of bread and ham into his mouth. It might as well have been sawdust for all the enjoyment he received from it.
Jenny moved away across the unadorned warm brick floor to one of the many immaculately clean pine worktops that filled the room. Presenting her back to him, she started slicing up more bread from the generous-sized loaf on the breadboard, her hurried, quick movements telling him that mentioning her father had definitely made her even more upset than she was already.
‘I know how much you loved him too. He raised you and your brother single-handedly after your mother died,’ he remarked. ‘I would have liked to have met him. I too lost my parents when I was young…remember? My father first, and then my mother.’ Carrying his mug of coffee with him, Rodrigo went to join her at the counter.
Clearly startled, Jenny glanced up, her hands stilling on the knife and bread. ‘Yes, I remember.’
‘Their deaths spurred me on to make my own way in life…so although it was tough for a while without them I am grateful.’
‘Would you—do you need that coffee topped up? The water in the kettle should still be hot,’ Jenny said, anxious to move the conversation away from the dangerously personal direction it had taken.
‘No, thanks. It is fine just as it is.’
‘Are you sure? It’s no trouble.’
Warmth spread through Rodrigo’s entire being as he stared down into the lovely face before him. How he resisted the almost overwhelming urge to pull Jenny into his arms, he didn’t know. Except that—as she’d told him earlier about using the pet name he had for her—he had forfeited the right. But the warmth that had invaded him remained, making him he realise it had been a long time since a woman had taken care of him so thoughtfully. Not since Jenny had left, in fact.
For the past two years he had been travelling and working abroad almost continually, and it shocked him to learn that a part of him missed that treatment. From the very first time he’d met her Rodrigo had received the impression that it was Jenny’s nature to be helpful, kind and thoughtful of others. All this was coupled with an extraordinary beauty—and she had been a blessing he had hardly been able to believe had come his way.
Chapter Two
‘WHY don’t you make yourself a drink and come and talk to me while I eat?’ Rodrigo suggested, his steady dark gaze making Jenny feel as though he was putting her under a powerful microscope.
For a little while she was utterly hypnotised by his compelling examination. He was staring at her as if he honestly craved her company, and she couldn’t help but feel all at sea about that. What were his motives? she wondered. It was natural to be suspicious after two years without a word. And if she was honest she was also afraid of hearing the other reasons why he’d let her go,
besides the fact that he couldn’t properly commit to their union because of his dedication to work. More than once at the back of her mind she’d entertained the possibility that he’d been having an affair. If that was the case then she definitely didn’t want to hear about it. Rodrigo had already broken her heart, and she had no desire to have it shattered again.
‘I don’t have time to talk to you now,’ Jenny answered nervously, tucking some corn-gold strands behind her ear. ‘Besides…you’ve had ample time to contact me if you wanted to talk, and the mere fact that you haven’t clearly illustrates what I’ve always known to be true: your work is much more important than any relationship. What’s to be gained by digging over old ground? I picked up the pieces after our farcical marriage and made a new life, and you just returned to the one you liked best as a bachelor.’
A muscle jerked visibly in Rodrigo’s high-angled cheekbone. ‘What a pretty picture you paint of my conduct.’
‘I’m only telling the truth. Our marriage was a mistake, was it not?’ Her breath was so tight Jenny felt dizzy. ‘I’m as much at fault as you. I had no business accepting your proposal when we’d only known each other for three short months, but I quickly learned that your work was priority number one and always would be.’
Returning to the table, Rodrigo dropped down into the chair he had vacated. Linking his hands, he lifted his dark eyes to observe Jenny. ‘Why have you never spent any of the settlement I made on you?’ he asked.
‘Because I didn’t want your damn money in the first place!’ Her heart pounding fit to burst, she willed the threatening tears that were backed up behind her lids to freeze over. ‘I thought I was marrying the man I loved…not entering into a lucrative business deal.’
‘You have every right to the money.’ Shaking his head wearily, Rodrigo surprised Jenny with a lost look that made her insides turn over. ‘I let you down—made you a promise I couldn’t keep. It was only fair that I compensated you for that.’
‘I didn’t want compensation. After the divorce I just wanted to rebuild my life and start over. I wanted to forget about you, Rodrigo.’
‘And did you?’
The question hung in the air between them like a detonated grenade. Not trusting him enough to voice the truth, Jenny moved away from the pine counter and assumed a businesslike air. ‘There are a few things I have to do before I turn in for the night, and I have to get on.’
‘Conscientious as ever, I see. Lily has a good friend in you, Jenny.’
‘She’s been a good friend to me too…a real support the past two years especially.’
‘She must despise me for what I did to you.’ Rodrigo’s mouth twisted wryly.
‘On the contrary. The truth is you rarely even come into our conversation. Now, I’ve got to empty the rubbish and check over the house before I lock up for the night.’
‘How long is Lily away?’
‘She’s been gone nearly three months now. She’s due back in a fortnight.’
‘I see. And what about the interior design consultancy that you intended to resurrect when you returned to the UK? Are you not involved with that any more?’
‘I’m still running it, though business has been a bit slow throughout the summer months. That’s why I was able to come here and help Lily out.’
‘And how are things with your brother Tim? Are you still paying the mortgage on the family home you shared with him? I remember he had a particular talent for avoiding work and paying his own share.’
Rodrigo’s question, along with his sardonic remark, made Jenny feel queasy. Of course Rodrigo had no idea what had happened when she’d returned…how sour things had turned between her and Tim—culminating in a most shocking event that she would never forget…
‘Tim met somebody and moved to Scotland after I bought out his share of the house.’
‘So you’re still living there?’
Feeling her face throb with uncomfortable heat beneath Rodrigo’s razor-sharp scrutiny, Jenny glanced away. ‘I’d better go and see to those bins.’
She was still wary of further probing questions as she lifted out the recycling bag from its plastic container beneath the double butler sink that Lily had excitedly sourced from a local reclamation yard, and prayed Rodrigo would cease quizzing her.
Heading for the door opening into the utility room, she threw over her shoulder, ‘Why don’t you just relax and enjoy your refreshments in peace?’
‘Jenny?’
Turning, she found to her astonishment that he was right behind her, his half-drunk mug of coffee left on the table. Her heart foolishly hammered at his unexpected nearness. ‘What is it?’
‘Let me do that for you…it sounds like a war zone out there and I don’t like the idea of you coming under fire on your own.’
Even as he uttered the words a thunderous crash resounded above them, its threatening echoes rumbling like some disgruntled giant disturbed from his sleep. Once again all the lights buzzed precariously on and off, as though the whole place might be plunged into darkness at any second.
Clutching the recycling bag tightly between her fingers, Jenny shook her head. ‘I’m not afraid of the storm. I’ll only be gone a couple of minutes.’
Not hanging around to see if he would try to persuade her, she rushed out through the door into the utility room. Once there, she opened the back door to the part of the garden where a paved pathway led towards a sturdy iron gate, beyond which was the road. Or where she knew there should be a road. Switching on the night light, all she could see through the grey shroud of misty, heavily falling rain was an uprooted tree lying drunkenly across the path. The ferocious wind was tossing everything around as though it were the flimsy furniture in a child’s dolls’ house. Lily’s beloved greenhouse was ominously shaking and shuddering. It was definitely under threat of losing its moorings as the rain viciously pelted the thin glass panes, Jenny saw. Dangerously, just a few feet away a slim-stemmed birch was being all but battered to kingdom come. If it came crashing down on top of Lily’s beloved greenhouse the several almost ripened tomato plants that she’d been tending like a broody mother hen would certainly be demolished—as would every other plant and vegetable in there.
The idea of being the one who was responsible for losing them galvanised Jenny into action. Determinedly she headed for the shed at the bottom of the garden, the wind’s eerie elemental power making her stumble more than once as she negotiated her way round the fallen tree that lay across the path. A while ago, whilst searching for a particular garden tool, she’d spotted what looked like a fairly robust rolled up tarpaulin inside the shed, which could now be put to good use.
The large tarpaulin clutched against her sodden chest, along with some tent pegs she’d found, Jenny shook her drenched hair from her eyes and then steeled herself to walk back to the other side of the garden where the greenhouse stood. Grimacing as another bolt of silver lightning lit up the sky, she uncurled the tarp, shaking it out as best as she could.
It didn’t take long for her to realise she was fighting a losing battle. Every time she managed to get one corner straightened out the wind all but ripped it out of her now freezing hands and she had to fight to uncurl it again. The rain was like a grey blindfold over her eyes as she worked, making her curse out loud because she hadn’t thought about the implications of such a storm earlier, when she’d first seen the darkening clouds appear in the sky.
‘What are you trying to do?’
A voice to the side of her lifted to make itself heard above the storm. Already drenched to the skin from his dash from the back door to reach Jenny’s side, Rodrigo was staring at her as though she was quite mad.
‘The greenhouse!’ she shouted, pointing. ‘I need to secure it so it won’t get flattened by the storm. I was going to throw the tarp over it and then fasten it to the ground to hold it.’
Comprehending, Rodrigo unceremoniously relieved her of the wildly blowing tarpaulin and then shoved one corner back into her hands. �
��Move back and we will shake it out together,’ he instructed. ‘Do you have anything to secure it?’
‘Yes.’ She quickly stooped to retrieve the long tent pegs she’d left by her feet. ‘These.’ She handed them over.
‘We need a hammer to bang them into the ground.’ Momentarily he shifted his gaze down to her feet, as if expecting to see the necessary tool lying there.
‘Oh, God.’ Biting her lip, Jenny stared back at Rodrigo with an apologetic shrug. ‘I forgot to bring the mallet with me. It’s still in the shed.’
‘I’ll get it. Stay here.’
‘It’s at the other end of the garden. Can you see it?’
‘Yes, I see it.’ Before he left, Rodrigo furnished her with a wry look. ‘And do your best not to get blown away by the wind while I am gone…I am looking forward to my full English breakfast in the morning, and that’s not going to happen without a cook!’
No sooner had he left than he was back again, a large wooden mallet clutched tightly in his hand, as if the storm and the fallen tree had been but mere annoying trifles that had not even vaguely threatened his mission. Taking charge with reassuring confidence, he yelled instructions to Jenny, helping them both negotiate the best way of working in the increasingly untamed weather.
By the time they had the tarp over the greenhouse roof and the sides rolled down securely over the glass walls—Rodrigo having deftly banged in the tent pegs through the loops to fasten it to the ground—Jenny felt as if she’d been packed in ice and left to freeze. Thank God her ex had been around to help her. That was all she could think as she took one last glance through the drowning rain at the secured tarp covering Lily’s treasured greenhouse. She’d never have managed it on her own, she realised.
