“Well, there’s just so much more you could be doing with the site, apart from the B&B.”
Emily put the album on the workbench and faced him, smirking. “Such as? Or is this where you finally share what your great plan was for the land you and Jane were discussing?”
It was Jake’s turn to become still. “You remembered.”
Emily nodded. “So now you have my attention. Tell me.”
He took a deep breath and told her everything. The plan to build a barn to showcase his talents. A physical place to show prospective clients. She listened intently, and Jake forgot his nerves, grabbed a large sheet of paper, and sketched it out for her. When he’d finished, Emily gazed at his sketches for a moment in silence.
When she looked up, she nodded. “It’s a good plan.” Then she grinned. “If a little… shortsighted.”
Jake frowned. “In what way?”
Emily gave him a mysterious smile. “Let’s just say I have an idea. Let me work on it for a while. When I’m ready, I’ll let you know.”
Jake wasn’t sure how to react to that.
“But for now? The important thing you need to remember is that I’m not saying no.” She smiled, and then her eyes held a wicked gleam. “Although you didn’t have to sleep with me to get me to think about this.”
Jake’s jaw dropped. “I swear, I—”
Emily moved swiftly, silencing his words with a finger to his lips. “I know that, silly man. I’m not an idiot. Maybe my joke was in poor taste. And let’s remember who asked who to bed last night.” She removed her finger and kissed him on the mouth. “Although I think this morning was pretty much a joint effort.” That gleam was back.
Jake shook his head. “Nope. That was down to you in my shirt. I was helpless to resist your… charms.” An idea occurred to him. “What are you doing for lunch tomorrow?”
“Nothing at the moment. Why?”
He’d gone this far, he could go the rest of the way. “Once a month, my brothers and I make Sunday lunch at my Dad’s place. It just so happens that we’re having lunch tomorrow. Would you join us?”
Emily’s eyes widened. “Why, Mr. Matthews, are you inviting me to meet your family? You don’t waste time, do you?” Her lips twitched.
He didn’t know how to respond. Her implication was spot on—he wanted there to be more to this than just sex. Jake found his nerve. “Is that a yes?”
She studied him for a moment, saying nothing, and Jake’s heart sank. Maybe that’s all she wants.
“Yes,” Emily said simply. “I’d like to meet them.” Then she grinned. “I’m sure they’ll have some interesting stories to share about you.”
He groaned inwardly.
Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.
“Your family do know I’m coming, right?” Emily asked as they walked up to the front door of the house. In spite of her bravado the previous day, she was feeling distinctly nervous. She wasn’t entirely sure why she’d agreed to this. She told herself it had been Jake’s hopeful expression that had decided her, but there was more to it than that. She’d had plenty of time to change her mind in the past twenty-four hours—most of which had been spent in Jake’s company.
And when was the last time I did that?
Saturday had been a series of pleasant moments that had flowed into each other, leaving her the most relaxed she’d been in a long time. The more time she spent with Jake, the more she liked him. Not that he behaved any differently to how he was at work. He was the same humorous, courteous man, but… there was something else. An intimacy had developed during the day, that had been only too apparent as they enjoyed yet another night of sensual exploration and sexual pleasure. And when Sunday dawned, Emily had been reluctant to give it up. Jake had gone home to change, before picking her up, and now that they were on the doorstep, her heart was quaking. Despite her head telling her it was only lunch, for God’s sake, her heart somehow knew different.
“I only told them I was bringing someone,” Jake said as he opened the door with a key.
“Oh.” Before Emily could say another word, a man appeared, maybe in his late thirties. She recognized him from the funeral, the same brown hair and blue eyes as Jake, but with fewer lines around his eyes, and a slightly rounder jawline.
His eyes widened, and he gaped at Jake. “You brought your boss? Wow. You’re brave. She’s either gonna give you a raise—or fire you when she gets food poisoning.”
“I heard that!” a voice yelled from inside the house. “And you can talk, Simon, Mr. I-Turned-Instant-Mashed-Potato-Into-Soup.”
Emily looked from Simon to Jake, then burst out laughing. “Lunch promises to be more entertaining than I thought it would be.”
Simon sighed. “Where are my manners? Come in—Emily, isn’t it? I’m glad you’re joining us. And trust me, there’ll be plenty to eat. I think Taylor’s cooked enough to feed a small army.” He stepped aside to let them enter, then waited for her to hand over her jacket. Simon gazed at Jake, shaking his head. “I suppose I’d better be on my best behavior then.”
“Only if you like your balls where they are,” Jake muttered under his breath. Not low enough that Emily missed it, however.
She did her best not to snort with laughter, but damn, it was hard work.
“More potatoes, Emily?” Taylor held out the bowl of roast potatoes. “There are still a few left.”
She groaned. “You have got to be kidding. I haven’t eaten this much in years. Anything else, and I’ll burst at the seams.” Everything had been delicious. “I have to ask—how do you cook them?”
“I parboil them, smack ’em about a bit in the pan, then put them into a tin of hot goose fat and sprinkle them with rosemary and garlic, before I roast ’em.” Taylor grinned. “You liked them, huh?”
“I loved them—my waistline will probably curse me for them for months to come.”
Jake looked her in the eye. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about on that score.”
Emily didn’t know how to respond.
“Aren’t you pretty when you blush?” Jake’s father, Roy commented. “I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your name.”
“It’s Emily, Mr. Matthews. And I don’t blush,” she added in a firm tone, mostly for Jake’s benefit.
Simon snickered. “Tell that to your face, sweetheart. I don’t think it got the memo.”
Taylor nudged his brother in the ribs with an elbow. “You. Washing up duty. Kitchen. Now. Before you dig an even deeper hole for yourself.” He glanced apologetically at Emily.
“But… I was going to eat the last of the potatoes,” Simon remonstrated.
“Fine.” Jake took the bowl from Taylor and thrust it into Simon’s hands. “Eat them in the kitchen.”
Grumbling, Simon got up from the table and trudged into the kitchen, bowl in hand, like a little kid who’d just been chastised.
“So who are you again?” Roy asked, smiling at her.
Emily couldn’t miss the way Jake’s face tightened. She could only imagine how it felt to lose sight of the man who’d been there all their lives, to see him submerged in a mental fog, his memories stolen. Those moments when he emerged, his mind clear, must be precious.
“I’m Emily, Mr. Matthews. I work with Jake.” It was the simplest explanation.
He nodded, then cocked his head. “I’ve seen you before, haven’t I?” Then his eyes widened. “Jane’s funeral.”
“Yes, Dad.” Emily heard the catch in Jake’s voice. “Emily is restoring Jane’s house.”
“Aw, that’s nice.” Roy glanced around him. “Where’s Simon? Is he going to play for us?”
“Maybe when he’s finished washing the dishes,” Jake told him. When Emily gave him a quizzical glance, he smiled. “Simon plays the piano, among other things. And Dad loves listening to him, don’t you?”
Roy nodded, his eyes alight. “My favorite piece is Clair de Lune. Your mother used to play that when you were little.”
�
�Let’s go into the living room,” Jake suggested. “Then I’ll get Simon to play for you.”
Emily watched the careful way Jake guided his father out of the room. Seeing him with his father and brothers had only reinforced her opinion of him.
He’s a good man. One she wanted to know better.
Chapter Twenty-Three
After a weekend in Jake’s company, being alone in the barn left Emily feeling oddly deflated. He’d brought her home, drunk the coffee she’d insisted on making for him, and when he said it was time for him to go, she didn’t miss the air of reluctance that clung to him.
She could understand that. She didn’t want him to go either.
Emily made herself some tea, then sat on the couch, her mind going over the weekend’s events. The sex had been phenomenal, and that would have been more than enough to account for her great mood, but another dimension had been added. Emily was honest enough to admit this had started out as just sex, and she’d have been happy to enjoy more such nights in the future. But after spending time with Jake and his family, she knew there were definite possibilities that there could be more to them than just sex.
The prospect sent a shiver of anticipation through her, a pleasurable sensation that vanished when her phone rang, and she saw Phillip’s number on the screen.
What now? She was half inclined to ignore it, recalling their last exchange, but good manners won out over gut instinct, and she pressed Accept. “Phillip. To what do I owe the pleasure of your call on a Sunday night?”
“I’m going to be in the village tomorrow, and I was wondering if I could call in on you. See how the house is coming along, you know.”
No, she didn’t know. Phillip had shown zero interest in the house while Jane had been alive, and after he’d changed his mind about challenging the will, Emily had hoped that would be the last time she’d have to see him. And a little voice in her head was suggesting very strongly that he was up to something. Leaving his London office—never mind leaving his precious deals and calls—on a Monday morning?
That was enough to make Emily reconsider her initial idea of telling him she wouldn’t be available.
“Would the morning be convenient? I can be at the house to meet you.”
“That would be great. I’m hoping to be there before eleven, if that’s okay.” Phillip sounded relieved.
“That’s fine. Only, don’t come in your best suit, all right? It is a work site, remember.”
“Good thinking. I’ll see you in the morning, then.” He disconnected the call.
Emily stared at the phone, her mind turning over the possibilities. What is he up to? Then she realized speculation was fruitless. She’d find out soon enough.
She glanced toward the staircase, and an inexplicable wave of sadness rolled over her. I get to sleep alone tonight. Two mornings of waking up with a warm body beside her—and two mornings of enjoying that body to the full—had given her a taste of the sweetness life could provide.
A sweetness Emily hadn’t realized was missing from her life—until now.
“Someone got out of bed on the right side this morning,” Lawrence said with a cheeky grin.
Jake ignored him, and carried on sipping his coffee, perched on the garden wall, enjoying the warm morning breeze. He was used to Lawrence’s bouts of teasing, but Jake’s mind was focused on the job. His break was nearly over, then he’d be back to work on the upstairs windows. The new frames were all made, ready to be fitted.
And working was just the distraction he needed right then. Anything to keep his mind off the previous two days—and Emily. Except Jake should have known better than to expect the teasing to end there. Not when Tom was around. He’d only joined them a few minutes previously, armed with his flask of tea and a packet of ginger biscuits.
“Oh, then it’s not just me who’s noticed.” Tom’s eyes gleamed. “I thought it might have something to do with our delectable Boss lady.” He peered intently at Jake. “That was you an’ ’er in your truck on Sunday, wasn’t it? I saw you as I was coming out of the Vale.” He grinned. “Now don’t tell me. You were ’avin’ a meetin’ to discuss… floorboards. Cabinets. Ooh, real sexy. Glad to see you took my advice. I told you to take ’er out, didn’t I?”
“Enough,” Jake said in a low voice. “Leave it.”
Like Tom would take any notice of that.
“Ooh, Lawrence, d’you think I’ve touched a raw nerve?” Tom winked at Lawrence. “Our Jake ’ere is a bit touchy on the subject of our lovely Boss lady, wouldn’t ya say?”
“Maybe she had something to do with him getting out of bed on the right side,” Lawrence suggested. “Of course, we’d only be guessing whose bed that was.”
Jake got up from his position on the garden wall, and brushed off the seat of his overalls. “You know what? I’ve had about as much break time as I can take. I’ll see you two at the house when you’re done, and please, don’t hurry on my account.” He hated that his private life was suddenly not that private. God knew if you so much as farted in Fairdown, everyone got to hear about it. But more than that, he hated the idea that Emily might be subjected to their ‘humor.’
That was a step too far, in Jake’s book.
“Jake?”
He paused and turned. Lawrence gave him an apologetic glance. “Sorry, mate. That was uncalled for. But it was good to see you with a spring in your step for a change. Doesn’t matter who put it there, right?”
Tom coughed. “Yeah, sorry, mate. The missus always says I need to put my brain into gear before I put my mouth into action.”
Jake’s irritation melted away. “That’s okay. Sorry if I was a bit… prickly.”
Tom shrugged. “We all have our moments. But if you’re going back to the house, be warned.” There was a twinkle in his eyes. “Don’t go shouting out any obscenities to the boss—she’s got a visitor. I think it’s Jane’s son.”
Jake vaguely recalled seeing Jane’s son at the funeral, and later in the Vale. He certainly hadn’t seen him at the house since he’d begun working there. “Don’t worry. I’ll mind my P’s and Q’s.” He had no intention of embarrassing Emily. In fact, once everyone had left for the evening, he intended asking her out on a date. Jake had something very specific in mind—dinner in Bath at some romantic, intimate little restaurant, with candles, flowers, the works.
He wanted her to see he was serious, and nothing said that like red roses, candlelight and champagne.
Phillip gave the living room a cursory glance. “You’ve been busy,” he remarked dryly. “I hope this isn’t turning into some vast money pit. I’d hate to see you waste your money.”
“Is that why you decided not to contest the will?” Emily inquired. “All you could see was a liability. That’s how you think, isn’t it? Assets and liabilities? And change the record. You already called it a money pit during your last visit.” When he scowled, she huffed out a breath. “So, why are you here? I doubt it was to check up on my progress.”
“I wondered if you’d reconsidered my request.”
For a moment, Emily was confused. Then it came to her. “Is this about that sketch?”
Phillip nodded. “I’m sorry I stormed off the last time. I think I was in a bad mood that day. And I meant what I said. I’ll pay you for it. Name your price.”
The request had puzzled her when he’d first brought up the idea. But to come back and try again? Alarms bells jangled in the back of her mind. “I’m still not sure why you want it. It’s not linked to Jane, so it’s hardly a reminder of her. It was, however, precious to her, and for that reason alone I’m loath to let you have it. Why do you suddenly want to be reminded of a woman you did your utmost to avoid?”
Phillip’s face darkened. “Just listen to yourself. You still see Jane as the injured party in all this, don’t you? But it was she who broke up our family. She who drove away her husband and child.”
Emily gaped at him, her mouth open. “And you have the unmitigated gall to tell me to liste
n to myself? Jane didn’t drive you away—you couldn’t get away fast enough. I know exactly how you felt about your mother.”
Phillip blinked, then sneered. “I doubt that. Not unless mindreading is one of your talents.”
Emily gazed at him coolly. “I don’t have to be a mind reader. I have your own words.”
“What on earth are you talking about?” Phillip blustered.
“We’ve had this conversation before, remember? The day of Jane’s funeral. When you told me I didn’t have a clue how you were feeling. So let’s not rehash that. Let’s talk about your letter instead.”
Phillip stilled. “Letter?”
Emily nodded. “You wrote Jane a letter. You were nineteen at the time, and you wrote to her, telling her exactly what you thought of her and her… perversions. Her ‘deviancy’ is how you put it, if I recall correctly.” Emily’s chest tightened as she recalled the expression on Jane’s face when she finally showed her the letter. “You made your disgust perfectly clear.”
Phillip’s face paled. “There’s no such letter. She made that up.”
Emily gasped at his sheer nerve. “Are we talking about the same letter that she gave to her solicitor for safe keeping?” When Phillip stared at her, jaw slack, she nodded. “Yes, she kept it. And I read it for myself, so you can forget about denying it. Do you have any idea how much that hurt her?”
Phillip narrowed his gaze. “Why did she keep it then, if it was so… distressing? Unless…” His eyes widened. “Blackmail? Is that it? If I’d contested the will, would you have trotted out the letter, to prove to all and sundry that Jane had cut me out of my inheritance for very specific reasons? And don’t bring up that bloody mirror again. We both know that was nothing but a cruel joke on her part.” He sneered. “I could have played the blackmail card too, you know. Let’s not forget that your company was built on the blood, sweat and tears of cheap labor in Third World countries.”
Pulled by a Dream Page 19
