by Jane Linfoot
Despite the fact that all traces of gloss and adult fun seemed to have disappeared down her friends domestic plug-holes as their homes filled up with offspring, she might have had more than a pang of regret for the cosy domesticity they had and she didn’t, had she not been preoccupied with playbacks of Jackson’s extraordinary assets. The only plus was that she and Jackson hadn’t actually ended up in bed. She’d made damned sure of that. Bed was just too intimate of a place to go. Too dangerous. One night in bed with any guy might set a girl thinking about what she was missing. A night in bed with a guy like Jackson might be enough to blow your mind. Folly, when relationships were right off your personal agenda, and wouldn’t be on there any time soon.
The one saving grace was that it was secret. No one knew. No one was ever going to know. No one that was apart from her and Jackson and she was one-hundred percent confident that he wouldn’t be telling. And she damn well knew she wouldn’t. There was no earthly reason why she’d ever see Jackson again. And she promised herself as of now not to think about him at all, especially not the crinkles in his cheeks when his face cracked into one of those aching smiles. So, that was all good. All over. A week ago now, so it was almost as good as ancient history. She threw her bags down in the bedroom, and began to check her answer phone messages. Six from Brando, filling in the non-urgent gaps between the texts he’d sent. Three bits of news from Edgerton Manor, his place in the Cotswolds, one tip about a work contact at his London company, a warning that their mum was on the lookout for someone to look after her retrievers – and the rest were from Cressy sounding more and more irate with each call. The landline began to ring again the minute she put the phone down.
‘At last. I’ve been desperate for you to come back.’ Cressy, bursting with energy. ‘Did you get the bad boy into bed then?’
Shit, going straight in for the jugular, then. Bryony took a mental deep breath and sprang to her own defense. No way could she afford to let Cressy pounce on a hesitation here.
‘Nope.’ And definitely telling the truth there – sofa, floor, terrace, shower, but definitely not bed.
‘Jackson Gale on a plate and you didn’t end up in the sack with him?’
Bryony held her phone against her shoulder, masking Cressy’s shrieks. ‘I resisted. Like I told you I would.’ Dicing, with that last bit.
Trying not to think about falling asleep on the floor of the cabin, head clamped in the delicious crook of Jackson’s neck, waking to find he’d covered them with a quilt, because she’d promised herself she wasn’t going to go there again, and – way more pertinent – in case Cressy managed to pick up on her daydreaming.
She braced herself for Cressy’s ‘I’m disgusted with how you’ve letting down womankind by passing up a chance like that’ tirade. Surprised a little, when it didn’t roll down the phone.
‘So, lots of great news for you…’ Cressy’s voice was uncharacteristically restrained. ‘You’re going to love it.’
‘Yes?’ Having to wheedle it out of Cressy now. Like Cressy’d had a personality transplant too while Bryony had been away.
‘First, fab news about your interview with Jackson.’
That? She’d almost forgotten about it. Bryony wished her stomach would stop leap-frogging over her shoulder every time Cressy mentioned him. Guilt about the deception making her nervous.
‘That interview was such a mess; talk about newbie falling at the first hurdle. The arrogance of the guy totally rubbed me up the wrong way.’
‘Or the right way, depending who you are.’ What the? Cressy was purring now. ‘You should see it – you’re amazing in front of the camera. Management can’t think why they haven’t put you there before. And the chemistry between you and Jackson is something else.’
‘You’re kidding?’
‘Nope. It’s fantastic. So fantastic that they want you to do some presenting.’
‘Wow.’ Bryony taking a minute to let that sink in.
‘Presenting’s such a great career hike for you. I wasn’t sure about your plans…’ Cressy, hesitated, then blurted. ‘But I blagged it and told them you’d be available to work right away. I knew you wouldn’t mind?’
So that explained the holding back.
‘You know me, I don’t exactly have a lot of plans to ruin.’ Sad or what? Whatever happened to the world tour she hadn’t had the enthusiasm to book? When she was doing eighteen-hour days working on a reality show, a month off when she finished had sounded like bliss, but now it was here she didn’t know what to do with herself. Other than a bit of tweaking around her flat, the three weeks Bryony had scheduled as free time were looking horribly empty. As for presenting, Cressy was right that it would be fab for her career.
‘Phew. It’s great to hear that.’ Down the phone, she heard Cressy exhaling with relief. ‘You’ve no idea how hard we’ve worked this last week to pull this thing together. It’s the mega-coup Sporting Chances has been trying to line up for ages.’
‘Sorry, what thing’s this?’ Cressy was losing her now.
‘Nabbing Jackson Gale.’
Jackson?
Eeeek. Jaw on the floor. Trying not to hyperventilate.
‘What’s he got to do with this?’ Bryony’s stomach had given up leaping, and was on its way, slowly, but surely, to somewhere around her ankles.
‘He’s been so difficult to pin down. Then, on Tuesday, his management rang and agreed that in addition to us following his return to racing, Jackson would film a feature ride for every programme in the series from different places. It’s phenomenal – that guy is such a star.’
‘Sorry to sound dense, but where do I come in?’
Was that Cressy sucking in a huge breath? As if she were bracing herself?
‘Seems it’s his manager, Dan’s idea. He wants Jackson to do tandem rides, and Dan’s insisting it’s you on the back. And Dan’s rock-solid firm that he wants you to do the research with Jackson too. It’s the only way they’ll consider it.’ As Cressy’s words tumbled out, Bryony’s brain began to spin.
‘What?’ That would explain the huge intake of breath on Cressy’s part, and her own involuntary shriek.
‘Chill, babe. It’s cool. You don’t need to start until next week. It’s all sorted, you’ll have a ball. He’s got a camper van lined up and everything.’
Bryony gulped. ‘A camper van…?’ Heart thumping. Hands clammy. Adrenalin coursing through her system, her body instinctively leaping into action, all on its own, on red alert for the Jackson Gale one-man danger zone. Bryony opened and shut her mouth. What could she say? No way could she spill her secret, but no way either could she mosey round the countryside with Jackson blasted Gale. Not after… She’d only survived since that night because she knew she’d never have to face him again.
‘I’m sorry, it’s out of the question.’ Bryony racked her brain for a sensible reason to put forward. Because he’d shagged her senseless and she never wanted to see him again wasn’t going to cut it here. ‘I barely survived the last time. That tandem was terrifying. Plus I’d murder the man for being so cocky.’ Ouch to that word choice and the images it conjured. ‘If he didn’t kill me first that is. He hated me because I wasn’t sporty.’
‘Seems like he’s changed his tune. Big time. You know I’d swap places with you in a heartbeat, but sadly it isn’t me they’re asking for. ’
Bryony jumped in before Cressy could begin to speculate further.
‘I’m happy to try some stuff in front of the camera.’ Bryony desperately trying to appease Cressy here. ‘I just don’t think I can work with Gale.’
When Bryony held her ground firmly enough, Cressy knew to back off. It was an unspoken agreement. One more moment of silence, and Bryony knew Cressy would retreat, gracefully, like she always did in their stand-offs. Except this time Cressy wasn’t retreating.
‘Okay, I’ll lay it on the line. It’s important or I wouldn’t be pushing you.’ Cressy, not backing down. What the heck? ‘We need Jackson, Bry. He�
�ll raise the profile, and pump up the ratings. Without him Sporting Chances is going to struggle, so the whole team is counting on you here.’
No pressure there, then?
‘What’s in it for Gale?’
‘Cash, and the exposure will be good for him too. The company will pay for a name like his and I think his manager liked what he saw of the two of you on the rushes.’
‘What? He saw the film of the interview?’ And she’d thought it couldn’t be any worse.
‘One of his conditions – he vets every scrap of film we take. But I guess he saw how great you were together, and realised it wouldn’t harm Jackson’s profile to grab some of that. There was something about the two of you on screen, Bry. Talk about sparks. Believe me, you two sizzled, the public will lap it up. It’s a no-brainer. Gale’s man is astute, and he’s onto it.’
‘Give me a day to think about it?’
As if twenty-four hours would make any difference.
‘Pleeeeeeeease, Bry. Do it for me. It’s my first big programme – I’d hate to lose it. You can’t leave me hanging, say “yes” now.’
Emotional blackmail wasn’t Cressy’s style. Nor was begging. This had to be important.
‘You might like Jackson better when you see more of him…’ Cressy hesitated. No idea how deeply she was putting her foot in things. As she began again her voice deepened with concern. ‘He didn’t push you to do anything you didn’t want to, did he?’
Oh, no. Everything she’d done was with complete, unencumbered abandon, a hundred percent willingly. Her choice all the way. Hey, she might even have been the one doing the asking, and, what’s more, she’d wanted everything he had to give. No doubts there. Shivers zipping up her spine at that thought. Strange that afterwards she hadn’t been able to work out who pushed who, who instigated what. Details lost in the sex-fuelled heat haze, all definitely on the understanding that it was a once-in-a-lifetime blowout. So, right now she had to man up, put it behind her, and stop being such a drama-queen about it. But how the hell could she face the guy again after that?
‘Bry? What happened with Gale that you can’t work with him?’
Cressy’s insistent tone dragged her back to reality. Her London flat, polished and pimped to within an inch of its life. An excess of styled perfection and interest. Vintage pieces, perfectly amassed to look like they had happened by accident, because that’s all she had to do outside of work. Maybe that was why she was making such an issue out of what was technically one night of lust, which was definitely over and done.
‘Bry, I won’t give in ’til you tell me.’ Cressy with her terrier-with-a-bone voice? There was only one sure way to shut Cressy up.
‘Okay. You win. I’ll work with Jackson.’
Knowing, as she said it, she was letting herself in for the nightmare of her life. Just not knowing how to avert it.
Lord knows how she was going to pull this off.
Chapter 13
‘So, Jackson…’
Jackson braced himself. Two weeks since he’d seen Bryony. That final image of her, eyes closed, face upturned to the shower jets, rivulets of water flooding down her curves, as he’d pulled out of her to run off to his early meeting, had been burned onto his retinas ever since. And now she was here, in the flesh, those long, delectable thighs he’d dreamed about incessantly pushing taut against the denim of her jeans. Playing havoc with his peripheral vision as she crossed one high-heeled foot across the other in the front seat of his camper van. And given the determined jut of her chin, poised to give him a hard time. Of entirely the wrong sort.
‘Bryony…?’ Catching the five hundred-watt publicity smile she flashed at him, he made sure he returned it twofold. No idea how the hell a guy was expected to drive from London to Brighton next to distraction like that, and cursing Dan a) for having the idea in the first place, and b) for forcing him to go through with it. So well-meaning Dan, with all his good ideas and flair for grabbing opportunities by the balls, had somehow decided that he should come along on this trip rather than heading back to the team, arguing that it would be great to capitalise on any opening in TV. Jackson suspected it was as much about keeping him occupied, whilst his injuries healed further, but Dan wasn’t coming clean on that one. And Dan also knew that as much as Jackson was protesting about having Ms Dominatrix come along for the ride, he wouldn’t have entertained taking anyone else. This was both the up side and the down side of having his best mate working on your management team – Dan knew Jackson almost as well as he knew himself, or sometimes even more scarily, he seemed to know him better than he knew himself. It wasn’t that Jackson minded the idea of being close to Bryony’s scorching body, which, if he was honest, had been playing on his mind a lot the last couple of weeks. Pretty much non-stop since that night of white hot meltdown, in fact. But the down side was, that from what he’d seen in Scarborough, Bryony might be physically and sexually delectable, but she was also hell bent on doing things her way. He’d had enough of doing as he was told, and bending to his dad’s will when he was a kid. He forced himself to work within the team discipline simply because it was a means to an end. But no way was he, as an adult, being ordered around by some jumped up TV woman. Call her strong-willed, call her spoiled, call her driven and talented – however you looked at it, she would be a pain in the arse to spend two weeks working with. Make that two weeks of non-stop contact in a camper van, and he’d be vapourising on all fronts.
‘A few things we need to get straight before we set off.’ Her tone couldn’t have been any more snippy or bossy.
Which underlined his point entirely.
That tone backed up every howling protest he’d made to Dan about this trip, but it was too late now, dammit. Although, given they were already well on their way, this put him at an immediate advantage. Anyone who took the best part of an hour stuck in traffic to get around to making their point was not half as sure of themselves as they were pretending.
‘Namely?’ He smoothed her a compliant smile.
‘You need to know I don’t mix work and pleasure.’
Taking every illicit fantasy he’d had in the last two weeks and stamping on it. Firmly. Trying to ignore that his stomach had hit the road with immediate disappointment. How had he expected anything different?
‘Fine by me.’ He reined in an escaping grin. ‘I wasn’t expecting you to do both at the same time.’
Beyond her fingers rearranging all that shiny hair on top of her head, he caught an OMG eye-roll.
‘The point I’m making is I’m not here to provide sex on tap.’ Her nostrils flared. ‘That’s definitely not what this trip’s about.’
‘Did I say it was?’ No harm in playing innocent here, but he wasn’t going to let on that he was only here because Dan had held a metaphorical gun to his head.
‘So why did you insist on bringing me then? Surely there was someone else? Anyone.’
And Jackson definitely wasn’t about to tell her how annoyed he was that he was having to come at all.
‘Maybe because we share the same taste in cartoons.’ That, she was not expecting, judging by her jumping eyebrows. He flashed her a triumphant grin. ‘You’ve no idea how the cycling roomies complain when I ask them to sit through Happy Feet. You, on the other hand, seemed more than pleased to watch it if I remember rightly.’ Naked on the sofa at one a.m., recovering between bouts. He’d been very appreciative at the time. ‘Stuff like that counts for a lot when you have to spend time with someone. No point making something difficult when it can be easy.’
And given the way she was chewing her nail frantically she remembered just as well as he did. But she was up and running again faster than he expected.
‘I thought I made it clear I don’t date.’ And sounding razzy, despite that front of a smile she was hiding behind. ‘And I don’t put out.’ He was starting to notice that a lot. The smile mask, not that he was going to mention it now.
As for the rest…
‘Excuse me for
being dense, and let’s be clear, I’m definitely not expecting a re-run, but how exactly does the other evening fit in with the not-putting-out bit?’ Not just the once either. Five times wasn’t it? With numbers as big as that a guy could be excused for losing count and no woman could claim that was an accident.
She cleared her throat, no doubt playing for time. From the corner of his eye he caught her brow, furrowed. Not even she could wriggle out of this one.
‘You know damned well that was a heat of the moment thing. An aberration. It won’t be happening again.’
The hottest night of his life dismissed as an aberration? But she was playing right into his hands, anyway.
‘All good. If you read my biography like you said you did, you’d know I don’t date either.’ One more wicked grin. ‘See, there’s another thing we have in common.’
She gave a snort. ‘Now you’re being ridiculous.’
Talking down to him was not going to shut him up.
‘As you helpfully said, it’s important we get this straight. It’s not something I try to hide, but I only do one-night stands. I guarantee great sex for one night only and I never do repeats. The whole world knows that.’ Up for sex, but never anything more. His mantra since his mother walked when he was seventeen, ripping his heart out and leaving him with a hole in his chest the size of Africa. One night ensured things never ran on. He was reminding himself here as well as Bryony. He wasn’t willing to put himself out there and risk the burn of another woman leaving him. ‘So whatever you might be hoping, it’s not going to happen again. As far as sex with me goes, you’ve had your allocation, Ms Marshall.’
And looking like he talked himself right out of it too. He’d conveniently overlooked that the sex with Cherry he’d been fantasizing about non-stop since he left her in the shower totally contravened his own dating rules. He was strictly a one night only guy. How the hell had that detail passed him by?
