by Rhian Cahill
He’d distanced himself as much as possible once he’d left for university, even getting his law degree in a different state so he’d only have to be home during the holidays. And what had that gotten him?
Nothing but a plastic wife and a career he was no longer proud of. Amazing what a little clear vision did for a guy. When Annabelle had asked him to turn a blind eye to her father’s unscrupulous behaviour he’d been forced to re-evaluate — to actually look at who and what he’d become.
“Jack.” Kandy snapped her fingers in front of him several times. “Santa’s Village to Jack. Come in, Jack.”
“Sorry.”
“You really zoned out on me. What were you thinking about?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Nothing important.” And it wasn’t. That was his past. He’d come home to build a future and that meant embracing the family business - and the possibility of embracing a particular female who’d gotten under his skin without trying.
Chapter 2
Elle had just removed her Christmas Angel coat when someone knocked on her office door. With a sigh, she resigned herself to the workday not being over and called out, “Come in.”
The door swung open and Jack Frost stepped into the room, instantly shrinking the space with his large presence. “Hey.”
Her spine stiffened when she saw the frown on his face. “Is there a problem?”
“No. I um…” He shuffled his feet a little, a very self-conscious move for a man who’d oozed confidence and control all day. “I just wanted to apologise for earlier.”
“Earlier?”
“First impressions can leave a bad taste in the mouth and I feel as though you have a bad one of me.” He cocked his head to the side slightly. “Or perhaps the correct one, but one I’m hoping to change.”
“Oh, no. I think I have you pegged.” Elle let a smile tilt one corner of her mouth. “I’ve heard all about you, Jack Frost.”
And she had. Kandy had spent the day reciting the life of Jack and Elle was certain the man in front of her wasn’t just the arrogant arsehole he’d first appeared.
One thick eyebrow arched as he studied her. “Should I assume our mutual friends have been telling tales?”
“Never assume. It’ll get you into trouble every time.” She turned and walked to her desk. “But I will accept your apology even though it’s not necessary.”
“And what about dinner?”
Elle stopped with her hand on the strap of her bag. “Dinner?”
“Will you accept my dinner invitation, too?”
She turned to face him, her mouth curved in a smile. “I don’t recall being invited to dinner, Jack.”
He shook his head. “Again I find myself not at my articulate best around you.”
Elle liked the sound of that. She liked that she threw him off his game. It meant their interactions would be equal. God knows the man rattled her equilibrium more than a 7.5 on the Richter scale.
“So, dinner?”
“What did you have in mind?” she asked.
“Something simple, somewhere quiet.” He did that feet shuffling again. “I’d like to get to know you better.”
Elle held her arms out wide. “What you see is what you get.”
He smiled. “I highly doubt that, Angelle.”
Ah, so she wasn’t the only one who’d been given a life story today. “Let me guess, Kandy.”
“No. Actually, it was Santa.” Jack grinned and the ground beneath her feet rocked.
That grin changed everything.
Gone was the serious, tense Jack. In his place was a man who appeared years younger. Instead of the stay-out-of-my-way vibe he’d exuded all day, this Jack called her closer. Made her want to step into him, press herself against him, and feel the heat hinted at in the twinkle in his eyes.
This new side of Jack scared her. Once this Jack put his mind to something, he’d get it. Not that the arrogant, commanding Jack couldn’t — or wouldn’t — but that one she could push aside, could convince herself he was an arsehole and not at all the type of guy she’d want to get tangled with.
“Yes or no?” he asked.
Her first instinct was to say no — to steer clear of any guy who stirred her emotions as much as Jack had with minimal contact. But what came out of her mouth was an unmitigated, “Yes.”
“Great. I know the perfect place. Want to follow me in your car or come with me and I’ll bring you back here after we eat?”
“I don’t have a car. I ride a bike.”
Both his eyebrows hiked up on his forehead, his eyes widening beneath them. “You ride a bike to work?”
Elle smiled. She knew exactly what he was imagining and she was about to school him on his misguided thoughts. “Yeah, a ZX-6R.”
“A motorbike?” Jack eyebrows disappeared completely beneath his dark, shaggy fringe.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Something wrong with that?”
“Ah, no. I just can’t picture you riding one.”
Elle could tell Jack was referring to her size. He wouldn’t be the first to underestimate her because of her physique. “I grew up in a racing family. My father rode in the MotoGP until he retired and my brother currently rides in the Moto2 circuit.”
“Roland. Wow. You’re Mark Roland’s daughter?”
“You’re a racing fan?” She’d had more than one guy ask her out because of who her father was. At least she knew Jack hadn’t had a clue before now. Or he was a great actor and he’d just given an academy worthy performance.
“Are you kidding? You don’t need to be a fan to know Mark Roland. I’d be remiss as an Australian if I didn’t know his name and what he was famous for. Not many of our countrymen dominate in world sports, motor or otherwise, the way he did for over a decade.”
“Good point.” Elle unfolded her arms and reached for her backpack. “For a while my mother wondered if he’d ever stop collecting trophies. She always said we needed a second house just to store them all.”
“Didn’t he clean-sweep three straight Grand Prix seasons?”
“Sure did.” She pulled her jacket from her bag. “So where are you taking me for dinner?”
“There’s this little Italian place around the corner from me. Family run. Best food on the planet.” Jack stepped forward and helped her into her jacket. “I’m over in the parking garage. Is that where you are or do you have staff parking somewhere else?”
“We park in the garage. What level are you on? Staff has level one reserved.” She zipped up her jacket.
“Want me to take your bag?” Jack indicated the backpack Elle was slipping her arms into.
She arched one eyebrow.
“Right. Sorry. Stupid question. You do this every day.” He smiled sheepishly.
The man really was cute when he was flustered. Elle took pity on him. “Thanks for offering. But you’re right. I do this every day. Twice.” She smiled up at him. He was at least a foot taller than her and standing this close their height difference was almost comical. He’d get a crick in his neck if he tried to kiss her. Not that she should be thinking about him kissing her.
“Of course you do. Obviously I wasn’t thinking when I made that offer.” He stepped towards the door. “Should I give you the address of the restaurant? It’s literally around the corner from my place so I was going to park at home and walk…”
Before Elle even knew she was going to speak words were flying out of her mouth. “Give me your address. I’ll meet you there and we can walk together.”
Jack grinned and heat bloomed in her lower belly. In that instant Elle knew she’d have to be extra careful around him. She wasn’t the type to fall into bed with a guy she’d just met, but with Jack she suspected he’d have her breaking every one of her dating rules.
Willingly.
* * *
Jack lost sight of Elle within minutes of leaving the parking lot. She easily wove her way through the congested Sydney traffic while he was stuck in the long line of c
ars inching their way to destinations unknown. When he hit the motorway, he resisted the urge to flatten the accelerator to the floor and break the speed limit to get home quicker. The last thing he wanted was to be pulled over by a cop.
Thirty minutes after pulling out of the parking garage, Jack turned onto his street and took his first easy breath since Elle had disappeared from view. He didn’t see her bike when he pulled into his driveway, but she was there, sitting on his top step. Jack switched off the engine and got out.
“Where’s your bike?” He took long, quick strides towards the house.
She got to her feet and brushed her hands over her denim-covered arse. “At my place.”
Jack dragged his gaze up her torso. She’d changed out of her work clothes into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt that hugged her body like skin. She might be small, but the woman definitely had curves on her. “Huh?”
Elle laughed. “Eyes up here, Jack.”
He shook his head, something he needed to do a lot around this woman. “Sorry. You’re in different clothes.” It wasn’t a question, but the sentence implied one just the same.
“Apparently we live in the same suburb. I’m a five minute walk away.” She nodded down the street to their left.
“Really.” Jack grinned, overly pleased with how close their homes were. “That’s fortunate.”
“Oh?”
“It means we can enjoy a bottle of wine with dinner and neither of us have to worry about driving home.” He walked to the door and shoved his key in the lock. “Do you like red or white?”
“Either works for me.”
Jack led the way into his house. The rooms were still pretty bare. He’d left everything with Annabelle when they’d separated. It was a shock for him to realise he hadn’t picked one piece of the furniture that had filled their home. When he cut from his past he’d made the break with nothing but a few favourite suits, his underwear, and the casual clothes his wife had always frowned at.
He smiled. It felt good to be the only one to decide what he wore or how he furnished his home. He’d never admit it to anyone, but he’d pandered to Annabelle in a way he was ashamed of. No woman would ever have that level of control over him again.
“Wow. You should fire your decorator.”
Jack glanced back to see Elle smiling at him. “I’d need to hire one first and that isn’t ever going to happen.”
“Oh, I sense a story in that declaration.”
He rubbed a hand on his chin. “I might tell you at dinner, but first, let’s pick a bottle of wine.”
“We’re picking the wine here?” Elle followed him into the kitchen.
“Yep. Plenty to chose from.” Jack waved his hand at the two wine fridges he’d had installed. That was the other thing he hadn’t let Annabelle keep. His wine collection. “White in the left one, red in the right.”
“Jesus. You either have a serious drinking problem or you know a hell of a lot more about picking a bottle than I do. Probably best if we let you decide what to have with dinner.”
“Okay. At least tell me white or red.”
“I honestly don’t have a preference.”
“Seriously? You really don’t care?” Was this woman for real? Jack had never met a woman who didn’t know exactly what she wanted.
“All right. Red. But only because you’re insisting.”
“Red it is.” Jack opened the door and browser the shelves. “I’ve got a bottle of Rockford’s. Oh, and Petaluma is good. Or we could have Devil’s Lair.”
Elle laughed behind him.
He glanced over his shoulder. “What?”
“You say those names like they should mean something.”
Jack shrugged. “I guess you’re not a wine-buff.”
She laughed again. “Not even close.”
“Well you’ll be easy to impress then.”
“And what would you chose if I wasn’t? If I knew what was what inside those bottles, which one would you pull out to impress me?”
Jack grinned. “That’s easy. I’d pull out the $600 bottle of Penfold’s Grange.”
“$600?”
He nodded as he turned back to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of Devil’s Lair Cabernet Shiraz. At a modest $18, it wasn’t cheap but not expensive either.
Elle whistled. “I couldn’t bring myself to spend that much money on something I’m just going to drink.”
Jack stood with bottle in hand and turned to face her. “You don’t just drink wine.”
“Ah, okay, I’ll bite. What do you do with it?”
“You savour it. Roll it around your tongue while your tastebuds pick out all the delicate flavours, the robust tang of the timber used in the barrel the wine sat in for months.”
“Dear God. It’s a drink, not sex.”
He grinned. “A fine glass of wine can be better than sex.”
“If that’s the case, you’re doing it wrong.”
“Well, considering I just got out of a ten-year marriage there haven’t been any women.”
“And obviously the marriage bed lacked passion or you’d still be in it.”
Jack jolted. Had his marriage lacked passion? He remembered Annabelle’s frequent requests not to muss up her hair and had to agree with Elle’s assessment. His marriage had lacked a lot of things it seemed.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” Elle took a step back. “Perhaps I should go —”
“No. It’s fine. Your comment just threw me for a moment. I honestly hadn’t thought about the state of my marriage one way or the other, but I’m inclined to agree with your opinion.” He frowned.
“I’m sorry.”
Jack arched one eyebrow. “For?”
“Your failed marriage.”
He smiled. “Don’t be. I’m certainly not.”
“Oh.”
“But let’s not bore ourselves with talk of that particular disaster.” Jack pulled open a drawer and searched for a bottle opener. Wasn’t hard to find. Like the house the space was pretty bare of anything, but the rudimentary implements. “I’ll open this to give it a minute to breath while I take your lead and go get out of this suit.”
Jack pulled the cork and placed the bottle on the counter before heading down the hallway to the only fully furnished room in the house. Number one on his shopping list had been a bed followed by the sixty-inch television in the living room. He wasted no time changing. The quicker he was, the sooner he could get back to Elle.
Chapter 3
Elle swung her legs, careful not to bash her heels into the cupboard door beneath the counter she was sitting on. The breakfast bar lacked stools and there was only the huge squishy-looking couch in the living room to sit on. She’d been afraid to sit on that for fear of the thing swallowing her whole.
“Shall we have a glass of wine before we go?” Jack asked as he came into the room.
He’d changed into faded jeans that moulded to his butt and thighs. She tugged her gaze off his mesmerising arse. His blue button-up shirt was tucked into the waistband of his pants showing just how low on his hips those jeans rode. The fabric clung to his broad chest and shoulders and hinted at the flat belly she’d bet money was a tantalising ridged six.
He was built like a front row forward, but there wasn’t an ounce of fat on him that she could see. She wouldn’t mind getting a closer look to be sure though. Even perched on the counter, she wasn’t at eye level with him. Instead she stared right at that great expanse of chest.
“Elle?”
“What? Oh. Right. Drink. Yes. Sounds good.” She needed something to wet her suddenly dry throat. Not to mention something to occupy her hands so they didn’t wander into his personal space.
“You okay?” Jack stepped closer, put a finger under her chin and lifted her face to look at her intently. “You look a little flushed. Is it too hot in here? Should I turn the air-con down a bit?”
“No. No. I’m good.” She shook off his hold and slipped off the counter. “Is there anywhere
other than that life-threatening couch to sit?”
“Life-threatening?” Jack asked as he got two wine glasses out of a cupboard.
“Yeah.” Elle glanced in the direction of the couch. “I’d disappear into those monstrous cushions never to be seen again.”
Jack chuckled. “I can see how you might think that. But I can assure you I’d send in a search party if you did.” He handed her a glass full of a deep red liquid and nodded to the left. “There’s a less threatening sunlounge by the pool.”
“You’ve got a pool?” She was a little jealous.
“That’s a loose term for the hole half-filled with water in my backyard.” He slid open a glass door and motioned for her to precede him. “It’s just one of many reasons why I got this place cheap.”
“Wow.” Jack wasn’t wrong. The pool was in a sorry state. It was about a third full with a murky liquid that was quite possibly inhabited by the swamp creature from the black lagoon. It certainly looked like a black lagoon, the inky water thick, keeping the depth a mystery. Tiles along the edge were either chipped or missing and the sides above the water line were a deep green due to the thick layer of scum growing on the walls.
“I plan to fix it up.” Jack sighed. “Figured I’d wait ’til next year now though. It’ll never be ready for this summer and I’d rather take my time and really think about what kind of repair or replace I want to do.”
Elle wandered over to the old but sturdy looking sunlounges. “These come with the house?”
“Yeah, I’ll replace them eventually, but for now they’re usable.” Jack sprawled out on the lounge next to her. “Sit down. They’re surprisingly comfortable.”
She eased herself down and when the seat didn’t collapse beneath her, she leaned back and stretched her legs out. “You’re right. Very comfy.” Elle wiggled her arse to find the perfect spot. Glancing up, she saw Jack’s gaze glued to her hips.
Heat rushed through her. Muscles grew taut as desire wound its way through blood and bone. She’d never reacted so intensely before. There’d been something different about Jack from the very beginning, and while she still could not pinpoint what it was about him, she couldn’t deny he had a profound effect on her.
