And since Lily now had him suspecting that there was a little too much of his father in him, it was for the best that he just focus on business. On the deal that would help him make peace with his past.
He’d made progress. The TV interview that morning had had an incredibly positive influence on his image. But he didn’t know if it was enough. So he would spend more time with Lily, and then hopefully Jade and Riley would tell him his reputation had been restored and the sponsors had changed their minds.
And if they hadn’t...
You’d marry her?
His gut turned at the thought, and the strength of his resistance stunned him. There was immediate panic because of it, and he forced himself to breathe. Told himself it was only because marrying her would go against what they’d agreed on. It had nothing to do with the fact that marrying her would definitely be manipulative, knowing what he knew now. Their attraction. Her vulnerability. The protectiveness she inspired in him...
He turned when he felt a hand on his back, his heart thudding at his thoughts.
‘Are you ready?’
‘Yeah,’ he answered, and cleared his throat when he heard the rasp of his voice. ‘There are still a few people outside, though, so maybe we should stay here. I’ll pour some wine.’
He wasn’t suggesting it because he needed to compose himself. And he wasn’t heading to where he kept his alcohol because he needed it to help him do that.
If he needed to marry Lily, he would. It was business, after all. But because of their agreement he’d talk to her first. That was fair, wasn’t it? And it wouldn’t be manipulative then, would it?
It made him feel calmer, that decision—until a voice asked him what had changed. He hadn’t liked it when Riley and Jade had suggested marriage, but he’d believed he would have done it if he’d had to. And definitely without reservations over who he was marrying.
So the question wasn’t what had changed, but who had changed him.
And really, he thought as he looked at Lily, should he even bother answering that question?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
‘YOUR FLAT IS LOVELY, by the way,’ Lily said to break the tension.
Tension she’d thought had started to subside before she’d freshened up.
‘Thank you. Though I don’t know if I should believe you, based on your tone.’
Something in his tone told her something had changed. But she was determined to keep things civil between them, and she wasn’t sure if she could if she asked him about it.
‘It really is lovely,’ she insisted, settling on the safe subject. ‘It just doesn’t feel like you live here.’
‘Why not?’
‘You don’t have a table on your balcony,’ she said, and her pulse picked up—just a little—at the attention he aimed at her. ‘That would have been the first thing I would have done when I moved in. I would eat my breakfast there, my lunch... Actually, I’d probably use any opportunity I could to appreciate that view.’
‘I can appreciate the view fine from here,’ he responded in a low tone.
She turned, saw that he was looking at her, and blushed. ‘We had an agreement.’
‘We still have the agreement. But I don’t think it would do any harm to flirt.’ He grinned, but something felt off. As if he was saying the words on autopilot.
‘Maybe not for you,’ she said, and then closed her eyes. She hadn’t meant for that to come out.
She held her breath, waiting for him to respond, and then sighed when he just said, ‘You’re right, though, I don’t live here.’
She turned back at the proximity of his voice, took the glass of wine he handed her.
‘Where do you live, then?’
‘Near the office. I spend more time there than at home anyway.’
‘Because you have nothing to go home to?’
There was a pause. ‘Maybe.’
He gestured for her to take a seat, and she did, nearly groaning when the couch enveloped her aching body. It reminded her that she should be at home, soaking in a bath and drinking a glass of wine there instead of with Jacques.
She realised then that he hadn’t really answered her question. It had been a little invasive, she considered. But it had fallen so freely from her lips because it was true in her own case. When she was at home her mind had nothing else to do but think about how she had failed in her life. How her parents had been right...how she should have never thought she was good enough to run a successful store. How running a business required business acumen, not the creative mind she had.
And when it was done with that her mind would start on how she should have just left Kyle without a backward glance, instead of accepting money so that she felt as if she’d paid with her soul.
‘Maybe we should start with something a little...less...’ she suggested when her thoughts made her chest tighten.
‘I think that would be for the best,’ he answered, and sipped from his wine glass. ‘Tell me about your family.’
It was an innocent question, but she felt a wall go up around her heart. She had to tell him something, though.
‘There’s nothing out of the ordinary there,’ she said slowly. ‘My mom used to be a paediatrician. She’s retired now, but she still helps out at the local hospital three days a week. My dad’s a couple of years younger than her, so he’s still working. He’s an engineer.’
‘What kind?’
She tilted her head, a smile tickling her lips that he’d thought to ask.
‘Civil.’
He nodded. ‘Siblings?’
‘None. I’m the only child.’
He frowned. ‘It doesn’t sound like you’re happy about that.’
She’d heard that, too. The slight dip in her voice that had tainted her words. But what could she tell him? That her parents, with their engineering and medical degrees and professional stability, had expected her to follow in their footsteps from a young age? That when she’d proved to be different from them they hadn’t been able to adjust? That instead they’d just tried to apply to her the mould they were used to and hadn’t seen how it had eroded her confidence, her self-worth?
‘No,’ she answered him. ‘My parents have...’ She stopped herself, and cleared her throat. ‘It’s nothing.’
A single raised eyebrow sent her heart jumping.
‘It’s something.’ There was a pause. ‘Lily?’
His tone was a mixture of forced patience and genuine curiosity, and she knew if she were talking about anything else it would have made her smile. Now, she chose her words carefully.
‘They just...their expectations of me are a bit high.’
‘Why?’
She lifted her eyes at the softness his voice had now, felt the warmth in his gaze right down to her toes.
‘They’re very...rigid. Things are straightforward for them. Simple. Do you want to be a doctor? Study for a medical degree. Engineer? Study engineering.’ They were simple examples, but she saw that he understood what she meant. ‘I’m not straightforward.’
‘And they can’t understand that.’
‘No, they can’t.’
‘I understand not living up to your parents’ expectations.’
She looked up to see Jacques staring out at the beach. When he looked back at her she once again saw that stormy expression in his eyes.
‘But the more important question is whether you’ve lived up to your expectations of yourself?’
She’d never thought about it, she realised in surprise. Had she lived up to her own expectations? Did she even have expectations of herself? Her mind scrambled for an answer and she bit her lip. She had goals and dreams. Why were they so difficult to remember now?
Because they’re so closely tied to other people’s expectations
of you.
She frowned. Was her store failing because her parents had expected it to so she did too? Did she believe that she could do better, that she could be better, because that was what Kyle had expected of her? What did the money she’d accepted from Kyle’s family—the first decision she’d ever made for herself—say about her expectations of herself? What did it make her?
‘Have you?’ she asked, desperate when she looked at Jacques and realised he saw too much. ‘Lived up to your own expectations?’
Though his expression gave nothing away, she saw the hand holding his glass of wine tighten, and she realised the answer was no.
It made her feel better—a little less vulnerable—and because it did she said, ‘Fortunately no one will be asking us that question.’
She nodded at the relief she saw in his eyes.
‘But they might expect you to know that my parents live about an hour away from here, in Langebaan. And they’ll expect me to know about your family. I already know Nathan. How about you tell me about your parents? Other than their ridiculous expectations of you, of course.’
She’d said it lightly, but his face hardened, a light going out in it.
‘Neither of my parents work. They have money—a lot of it—that my grandfather made in the mining business. They keep busy, of course, but they don’t have jobs.’
‘Oh,’ she said slowly, processing this new information.
It reminded her that Nathan worked for the Van der Rosses not only because he was a good lawyer, but because he had the connections to get into the biggest law firm in the Western Cape. It made his humility, his good nature, so much more appealing.
‘Where do they live?’
‘Somerset West.’
‘And since you live on the opposite side of Cape Town that puts a nice distance between you and your parents,’ she said, and saw confirmation in his eyes before something else eclipsed it...guilt? Because she thought it was, she added, ‘I’m not judging. It’s the same with my parents.’
‘Distance helps. You don’t have to constantly be reminded of how you’ve fallen short.’
He understood, she thought.
‘Not that it matters in my case, since I haven’t seen them in seven years.’
‘Seven years?’ He nodded, but didn’t meet her eyes. ‘That’s when...’
‘When I destroyed my career?’
Now he looked at her. ‘Yes.’
The admission was difficult for him, she saw, and felt a little relief at that. They were on the same page, then, sharing difficult things with each other. She still worried that she had told him too much. But it felt good finally to admit that she couldn’t be what her parents wanted her to be. It felt good finally to talk to someone who understood. Caitlyn didn’t, and since she was Lily’s only friend there hadn’t been any other options.
Now there was Jacques.
She didn’t quite know how to feel about that. So she settled on something a little more familiar.
‘So, how about we get to that dinner you promised me?’
* * *
Jacques’s lips curved into a smile. It broke some of the tension he felt about his surprising admission. The tension that had started when he’d realised she was changing him.
And he’d only known her for two days.
‘I usually have my housekeeper prepare meals for me when I know I’ll be staying here,’ he said, and took her wine glass from her as she tried to get out of the hole the couch had created for her body.
He’d bought the piece of furniture specifically because it had that ability, which felt like heaven after a tough rugby practice or match. But watching her struggle now gave him a new appreciation for it. Her cheeks were flushed as she tried to scoot her way to the edge of the seat. Though it helped to get her feet closer to the ground, it made her dress ride up, exposing her thighs.
A ball of fire dropped in his stomach, turning his amusement into something more serious. Something more dangerous. It rooted his feet to the ground even as it woke every nerve in his body. She hadn’t noticed this new development, and the more she moved the higher the dress went.
Eventually she sighed and, without looking at him, lifted a hand for his assistance.
It took him a moment to move—to force his body to behave—and then he set their wine glasses on the table and quickly took her hand, pulling her up without paying attention to the force he used. Though it helped her out of the seat, it also made her lose her balance—and before he could totally comprehend what had happened she had fallen against his chest.
His arms went around her, steadying her, but when she looked up at him, the colour of her skin still tinged with pink, rational thought flew out of his mind. Their eyes met, and the heat that always simmered between them turned into a boil. His arms tightened, pulling her closer to his body. Her curves fitted perfectly there, he thought, and the air in his lungs thickened. Her eyes had widened, but she hadn’t protested at their proximity. Instead her arms had wound around his neck, and those full lips of hers had parted.
He remembered their taste from that afternoon, when he’d kissed her for what he’d told her was the public’s sake. But it had really been because he’d had to know whether the attraction, the pull he felt for her was real. And now that he knew it was—now that he could acknowledge that despite all his playboy-like dating years he’d never wanted another woman as intensely as he wanted Lily—he wondered how their kiss would be.
Whether now that they were in his flat, away from the public, their kiss would turn into something more. Something that would sate the nagging need he felt for her...
‘Jacques!’ She interrupted his thoughts in a hoarse voice. ‘You...we...we promised.’
Somewhere at the back of his mind it bothered him that she’d had to remind him—again—of that promise, that agreement they’d made only a few moments earlier. It seemed vague, faded—just like the goal that had consumed his mind from the moment he’d learned the Shadows Rugby Club was for sale.
The realisation made him step back, put some distance between them.
But still his body yearned.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Me, too,’ she answered, and something in her voice—her eyes—made him wonder if she was apologising because they had stopped things before they got...interesting.
There was a long pause, and then he heard her release a shaky breath. The sound revved him into action. ‘So. Food?’
‘Yeah—what do you have?’
He forced his mind to focus and picked up his wine, downing it even as he wished for something stronger.
‘I didn’t tell my housekeeper I was coming,’ he said, only then realising that he didn’t have much to offer her. ‘I think there’s some lasagne left over from when I was here last week.’
‘Did you invite me to stay here for dinner without having dinner to offer me?’
Embarrassment stirred beneath the desire he’d felt just a few moments earlier.
‘Yes. But to be fair I wasn’t exactly expecting this. I thought we’d go out.’
‘Do you have any ingredients to make something?’
He walked to the kitchen, checked in cupboards that held only cutlery, crockery and the few items he needed to make coffee.
‘I’m afraid not.’
She stared at him for a while, and then a smile crept onto her lips.
‘What?’ he asked, as his mouth twitched to mirror hers.
She shrugged. ‘It’s just nice to know you don’t think things through sometimes either. You know—like the rest of us normal people.’
He smiled at her, but her words had scratched at a wound he’d thought he had buried a long time ago. He’d always wanted to be normal. Normal children had normal families. Normal families had fathers who care
d about their sons and didn’t brush them aside for something—anything—better.
He pulled the fridge open with enough force that the door swung from his hand, hitting the counter and then his arm. Since there was nothing in it there was no damage, but he had to close his eyes to control his anger. To control his damage.
‘I was only teasing,’ Lily said from behind him, and he turned, his heart softening when he saw the uncertain look on her face.
‘I know. I was just thinking that I should have something for you other than this.’
He gestured to the fridge. It held only a half-empty bottle of orange juice. It was a lame excuse, and they both knew it, but Lily didn’t call him on it. Instead she watched him, the look of uncertainty fading, leaving only a shadow of vulnerability on her face.
He could see that vulnerability every time he looked at her, he realised. It was the reason he hadn’t wanted her to take part in his plan in the first place. And it was the reason she was the best person to take part in his plan. She was real—with real feelings, real emotions.
She had the same concerns he did—that she had fallen short of the expectations her parents had of her. And while he was sure that was because she hadn’t had the courage to tell her parents to adjust those expectations, his concerns were a result of years and years of trying but never succeeding.
Once he’d realised nothing he did would ever mean anything to Dale Brookes—would ever make his father love him—he had stopped trying. But he hadn’t given up on his mother until the night of the championship game. He hadn’t been able to believe that after everything Dale had put her through—after everything she’d seen the man put him and Nathan through—she’d stayed with him after he’d promised her for the umpteenth time that he would change.
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