Unworthy Of You (The Spring Rose Bay Series Book 2)

by K. L. Jessop

  “Evening, you sexy bunch.”

  “Where’ve you been?” Amelia asks as Megan kisses her head. “You’re normally the first one at a party, not the last.”

  “I was on the phone, arguing with my uncle.”

  “He still being an ass?” Jack asks.

  “Ugh! Don’t even talk to me about him. Just past me the tequila.”

  She strips from her dress to her reveal a tan bikini, exposing her stunning body, a thin gold body chain decorating her flat stomach. All this time we’ve spent together on the beach with friends, her lack of clothing has never been a problem, only now, I can’t take my eyes from her. I grip my beer bottle tighter. She’s a goddess in disguise, and if I don’t control my shit, I’m likely to have a heart attack.

  Sitting herself down on the sand, she crosses her legs by the ankles and rests her arms out behind her. I sense she’s a little quieter than usual and I want to know why. I kneel beside her. “Everything alright?”

  “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “You don’t seem yourself.” I’m desperate to see her eyes but she looks straight ahead to the water.

  “I’m fine.”

  “You don’t sound fine.”

  “I clearly need more tequila then.” She sighs.

  “Megan.”

  “It’s personal, Andrew.” She’s playing hard, throwing back the words I’d said to her earlier in a tone of voice that’s enough for me to back off and re-join the others. The feeling of rejection she’s created in my stomach is uncomfortable. Does she feel like this when I’m like it with her? Because I don’t like it.

  The evening sun’s about to set, painting the sky in vibrant reds and orange as I sit with Amelia. Empty beer bottles and pizza boxes are piled around us. Felicity left with Jack a short time ago—Jack is due to start his shift at the club—while Marcus is down at the shoreline chasing Megan in and out of the water. She seems more upbeat now, her laugh echoing across the bay.

  “Marcus, you fucker, don’t even think about it!” she squeals, running from him, but I’m unsure why. He, however, thinks it’s highly amusing, and I find myself smiling at the pair’s playful behaviour.

  “Why is she freaking out?” I ask Amelia out of curiosity.

  “Seaweed.” She giggles, watching them. “She has a phobia of it remember?”

  I don’t remember, and in all honesty, I don’t want to know these little things about her because it’s not necessary for me to know them, but that doesn’t stop me wanting to go and join in with the fun.

  “Andrew, I need to say something otherwise it’s just going to fester.”

  I can’t help but smile. I know from experience that Amelia needs to get out what’s going on in that overactive mind of hers. “Go on.”

  “Please try not to kill her while we’re gone?”

  Laughter erupts from my chest. “I wasn’t expecting you to say that.”

  “I’m serious,” she laughs. “I’m getting married, and I can’t keep stressing about you two at each other’s throats. Just promise me you’ll try?”

  “I don’t make promises,” I joke.

  She shoves her shoulder against mine. “Can’t you make an exception, just this once? For me?”

  Those pleading, pretty blue eyes get me. She knows I’ll do anything for her. “Alright, I’ll try, but I’m still not making any promises.”

  “Love you,” she grins.

  Another squeal from Megan gets our attention as Marcus continues in chasing her. “Amelia, help me!”

  “Come on,” Amelia says, getting up to dust the sand away from her backside before running across the beach to leap into Marcus’ arms.

  Megan runs back up as I make my way down, looking over her shoulder to see if she’s escaped Marcus. Before I can warn her, she runs right into me with a yelp. My instant reaction is grasping her waist to keep her steady. Her palms are flat against my chest, mine on the small of her back. Heat charges through my veins from her touch. I'd forgotten how good it felt to have her against me. Those few minutes of her seductive teasing while she kissed me last summer come swirling back like a sand storm as her big ice-blue eyes stare back at me.

  “I—I’m sorry,” she whispers, out of breath from her running. “I didn’t see you.”

  “It’s fine.”

  Like a spell that’s been cast, my hand has a mind of its own and before I can stop myself, I gently peel the strands of her wet hair from her cheek, caressing her soft skin with my thumb. Her eyes fill with what I can only presume is desire and her lips part. She’s so beautiful. I could get lost in her eyes. I could get lost in her.

  A wave of panic tightens across my chest breaking the spell and I remove myself from her proximity as though she’s burnt me.

  I have to stop this.

  I need to fight it in order to protect her from getting hurt, but I know my self-control is slipping fast, and if I have her, I won’t be able to let her go.

  Chapter Seven

  Megan

  “Would you like a coffee?” I ask Andrew as I prepare my own in the corner of his office.

  “I'll make my own,” he says, concentrating on the paper work he’s reading.

  I roll my eyes. “Andrew, I'm standing here making myself one. Would you like a coffee or not?”

  “Fine.”

  I make it and place it on his desk, waiting for a hint of gratitude that I know I’m not likely to get as he continues to look at his papers. I’m not in the best of moods today: I’ve hardly had any sleep, and I’m already missing Amelia; she’s not even been gone a week. “You know manners will help you get a lot further in life, Andrew. You should try using them!” I snap.

  “Jesus. Who bit you on the ass this morning?” He looks up at me confused, as though I’ve insulted him.

  “Thank you is all you had to say.”

  “And I would have said it if you’d given me a chance to answer.”

  He holds my stare. Those eyes burn into me with so much power, causing every nerve to tingle. I want to kiss him. I want to touch him... then I want to slap the bastard for making me want him.

  I return to my desk and open the window on my computer screen. I loathe building webpages. Tool bars and icons jump out at me but make no sense. I need to create one for the ET programme that will catch the eyes of those with overflowing bank accounts. Getting everything sorted and underway has been more exhausting than I thought it would be. Thankfully, it’s finally coming together; ready to launch in the next coming days.

  So much research has been done for this programme, from finding artists, to handling publicity and professional caterers. It’s a huge leap from answering telephones and booking rooms. My brain is now bursting with new information I didn’t know about two weeks ago. Marcus sure has put a file together of what exactly it is he’s looking for when it comes to uniting Rubies and The Grand. As soon as I read that he wanted local artists involved, excitement swelled my stomach at the possibilities in which Rubies could accommodate. That area of entertainment is right in the centre of my soul.

  To be fair, I have to say that, in some areas, Andrew has been a great help by throwing ideas my way regarding how the programme could be improved. Spending time with him has eased the tension between us a little—I think. However, it has awoken more questions that I’d never thought of in the past. Like, why at times is he so isolated and cold? Why does he constantly surround himself in paperwork and privacy rather than enjoyment? And why, even when he seems relaxed, does he wear a scowl on his face like it’s designer.

  The man is a beautiful mixture of sex and mystery. His firm body sent a shockwave of desire through me the other night on the beach, and even now, the imprint of him is still left against my skin. As he held me firmly in his arms, I caught sight of something that touched me so deeply. There’s a darkness in his eyes that makes it evident he's been broken. Is that the reason why he shuts himself away? Has he been burned that badly that it’s stripped away layers of his character tha
t I know are screaming to come out? I want to know why. I want to know it all.

  Not getting any further with my design, I ask for help. “Andrew, can you help me with something, please?”

  “What is it? I’m a little busy,” he says lightly.

  “I’m in the middle of designing the webpage and I have no clue what I'm doing.”

  “That’s why you need to learn.”

  I roll my eyes, knowing I’d get a remark like that. Anxiety rolls in my stomach. I have to get this finished. “I’m trying, I really am, but I’m running out of time here and it’s stressing the hell out of me. If I don’t get this done, then everything will go wrong and the event schedule won’t be correct, and Marcus will have my ass. Not to mention the fact that—”

  “Jesus, Megan, do you ever get tired of the sound of your own voice?”

  “Do you ever get tired from having that stick up your ass?” I shoot back playfully. My heart bursts into a thousand flutters as a grin spreads across his lips. I find it hard to hide my own smile. “Can you please just help me out here?”

  He joins me at my desk and once again every nerve in my body is on high alert as I’m caged in by his muscular proximity. One hand is firmly on the back of my chair, his other resting on my desk. I’m finding it difficult to breathe, his scent and the brush of his arm against my back is sending my core crazy. Maybe it would've been better if he’d stayed across the room, that way I wouldn't be here: mind blank and horny.

  “What is it you’re after?” he questions.

  Sex. Lots of sex.

  “I can’t get the link to Rubies social media page to save.”

  “Have you copied the link into the http bar box on the webs attachment setup?”

  I look at him as if he’s just asked me when Henry VIII died. “Come again?”

  Andrew takes the mouse and explains. “By copying and pasting the link here…” He drops the link and clicks back to the original page. “…you’re providing access to use it on the page. Then, you go back onto the page you need to add it to and paste it again, only this time using the link icon in the top corner.” He does it so quickly. “Because it’s now stored in the history column, you can use it straight away and the link will automatically connect and save.”

  “So, do I do that with all the links that are needed?”

  “The exact same way.”

  I raise my brows. “You made it look so easy.”

  “You’ll get the hang of it with time.”

  I look up at him to find his eyes are already on me. God he’s too sexy for his own good. The more we’re together, the more powerful the urge between us grows. I’m just confused as to why he’s fighting it.

  “Thank you, Andrew.” It barely comes out as a whisper which causes him to straighten quickly. Returning to his seat, he continues with his work without so much as looking up at me, leaving me hanging, yet again, and wondering what it needs in order for him given in to his feelings that I know are just below the surface.

  ***

  Dread fills my stomach. I’m immobile.

  My chest is tight, my breath caught and my legs shake with the shock of what I’m witnessing. The ceiling to my bathroom is nothing more than a dirty great hole, damaged beams and shattered plaster, as water continues to pour out onto the already sodden floor.

  “Oh shit! Oh, my God!” I gasp.

  I don’t know what to do or where to look. The smell of rotten wood lingers up my nose as I step back as though I’m trespassing in my own property. I could tell something wasn’t right as soon as I walked through the door. I felt it. Now I just want to cry. Another clang rumbles louder above me, and I quickly run to my bedroom in search of my phone, dialling Jack’s number in panic.

  There is no answer. “Fuck, Jack, where are you?”

  With Amelia and Marcus away, I’m limited with who I can call. I try him again but still get nothing. I can’t stop shaking. My chest is tight and my eyes begin to sting with the mess of my house. Normally, I’m one to jump to getting thing done but right now my mind is blank and I don’t know where to start.

  I don’t hesitate in calling Andrew. I pace my room and bite on my nail as anxiety sickens me. I need to get out of here.

  “Hi, you’ve reached, Andrew Harris. Please leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”

  “Goddamn it, Andrew!”

  The water continues to run from the huge hole of the bathroom ceiling as debris lingers on the floor and in the bathtub. My world suddenly feels like it has ended and there is no one here to help. Anxiety quickly turns to anger, and I become more furious by the second. I feel disgusting, my hormones are all over the place and I have a hole in my fucking ceiling.

  As I dial my uncle’s number, rage grips my chest. I’m so angry, I could easily kill him right now. If he’d have sorted this when I asked weeks ago, I wouldn’t be here now with my house collapsing around me.

  Answerphone.

  What is it with answerphones!

  “Uncle Richard, you tight fucker, when you get this message, I suggest you ring me, otherwise I’m getting on a plane to come and shove my showerhead up your ass!”

  Everything is such a mess.

  Everything is ruined.

  I’m so angry.

  “Why aren’t you here when I need you Lucas?” I yell. I can’t hold it together anymore. I throw my phone onto the nightstand, flop on to my bed and scream into my pillow.

  “What’s the damage?” I ask the man that’s promised to fix my shitty life, sheepishly. Only by the look on his face it suggests it’s not possible. I eventually got hold of Lucas and cried like a baby down the phone. Jack text to say he is out of town for a few days, and I’ve heard nothing from Andrew.

  It’s getting late and I tired.

  “The water has covered a wide scale of the ceiling and the damage is too great to be a quick fix. Unfortunately, everything needs to be stripped back and replaced. You’re going to have to stay elsewhere while the emergency work is done.”

  “How long for?”

  Neil—a contractor I’ve hired—looks up at the ceiling in his orange hard hat, but as he stands with his hands on his hips and his face screwed up, my confidence in him falls.

  “Until it’s made secure? Maybe a few weeks.”

  Fuck.

  “A few weeks? Are you serious?”

  “It’s not safe, Miss Simmons. The main tank in the roof space has exploded leaving water everywhere. It’s only a matter of time before the rest falls through. It’s too dangerous.” His brown eyes turn sympathetic as mine begin to glass. “I suggest you take as much as you need with you; it’s going to take a while.”

  I pack what I can, but it’s not half of what I need. Taking my bag of clothes, I head towards the hotel, stopping off at the supermarket along the way for a bottle of tequila. As I enter the building, the lighting is low and guests just arriving smile as they presume I’m one of them. The new girl, Carrie, is behind the reception desk. I keep my sunglasses on to prevent her from seeing my red eyes, too many questions will get asked and right now I’m not prepared to answer.

  “Megan, you’re not usually here this late. You ok?” she asks.

  “I’m good, thanks,” I lie. “Is Andrew upstairs?”

  “No, he left a few hours ago. He didn’t look so happy.”

  Sounds familiar. “Did he leave any messages?”

  “No.” Her eyes fall to my holdall. “You planning on staying the night?” she laughs.

  “It’s just some clothes I was taking to the charity but I didn’t manage to get there.”

  I don’t know why I don’t tell her the real reason for my bag. I guess I don’t want more pity. I’ve always been one to stand on my own two feet. I never asked for anything because I went out and earned it myself. Other than having a shit-head uncle as a landlord, everything in that house I bought from scratch and made the place my home. Independence is my nature. I like to do as much as I can without asking for support. Now, I�
�m suddenly in a situation where I’m reluctant to ask but know I need to.

  I don’t like that.

  Dumping my bag in the corner of Andrew’s office, I kick off my heels and pour myself a large measure of tequila. It’s so quiet you can hear a pin drop; his office is always fucking quiet. It drives me crazy.

  I throw back my first drink and pour myself another, wanting it to erase the knot that lies heavily in my stomach. Curling up on the sofa, I sink into the soft leather and rest my head on the large cushion. I inhale the fabric, it smells of Andrew and for a few minutes my mind is taken away from the disaster of my home. It’s weird being in his office without him here, I don’t like it, as much as I hate to admit it.

  I contemplate dialling him again, but what would it achieve? He’s not even returned my last three calls. The void slowly widens in my stomach. I feel lost and alone. This isn’t me.

  Pouring myself another measure, I inhale, trying to remove the wallow of self-pity and fill my lungs with positivity. I’m just going through a blip; it’s just mother nature being an ass. Tomorrow will be a lot better.

  Chapter Eight

  Andrew

  “Good morning, Mr Harris,” Carrie smiles. The hotel is always quiet this early in the morning. The corridors are only occupied by night staff and the smell of bacon lingers through the walls. It is my favourite time of day.

  “Good morning. How was the nightshift?”

  “Pretty quiet. Three late arrivals, and one check out.”

  I check over the graph table on the computer screen that highlights how many rooms are in fact occupied. It’s busy for this time of year.

  “Excellent. Keep up the good work, Carrie. You’re doing great.”

  “Thanks, Mr Harris.”

  She beams a big white smile as I head down the hall to the stairs. I have great confidence in my staff. Their ability to work this busy industry shows in the awards we continue to gain each year in tourism and accommodation. Everyone who works under this seven-star, whether it be in the kitchens or on the top floor, treat this building as if it where their child. They love it, worship it and only want the best for it.