Her Client from Hell

by Louisa George

  She wasn’t ready for this to end; it was too irresistible, too new. With a shock, she realised she wanted something more with Jack—something that this fledgling connection could build on. Because she wasn’t ready to let him go; she wasn’t ready to walk away. Sure, they were complete opposites on most levels, but they were the same when they made love, the same when they kissed, the same when they talked and laughed.

  She wanted more. Despite everything. Her stomach curled into a knot.

  After everything she’d tried to prevent, those times she’d fought her feelings, those times she’d slammed up barriers—but even now she couldn’t think of having more days without him, like the last three, wondering if she was in too deep or not deep enough. Wondering if they could make something precious together or not. She was through with being scared, of slamming up walls.

  But she knew too that telling him would be insane.

  He took her hand and they strolled towards the Orangery rose gardens and sparkling fountains. She remembered catering a wedding here not long ago, the happy openness of the bride and groom, who had talked her leg off about their hopes and plans; the feeling that she’d never found that with any man. Did she push too hard or not enough? Or just choose the wrong men in the end? But Jack was…well, he was different to any man she knew.

  ‘Okay, well, I know you’re a control maestro.’

  ‘With you around, it’s good to inject a little order or the world would implode.’ He squeezed her hand.

  ‘I know you work hard and play reluctantly. But when you do allow yourself to have fun you really enjoy it. That you’re wicked at sex.’ That got a press against a tree and a long leisurely kiss that pushed away any kind of thought process at all. When she pulled away she could barely remember how to speak. She kept a hold of him because she’d almost forgotten how to stand upright too. ‘Is sex in a public place a crime?’

  He thought for a moment and sucked air through his teeth. ‘Sadly, I think so.’

  ‘Damn. Wow. Okay. Right.’ She tried a step forward on liquid legs. Seemed just about okay. But better hold on to him just in case. ‘Where was I?’

  ‘I’m a sex God or something.’ He pulled her against him and laughed.

  She loved the way he looked when he laughed—so liberated and carefree and downright gorgeous. And it seemed to be happening more and more and she just knew part of that was because of her. Pride slid into the mix of emotions swirling in her gut. ‘Oh, yes, I remember now, you’re a woeful cook but a quick learner. You have an amazing talent but, for some very bizarre reason, you are reluctant to celebrate it. You love your sister. And, apart from that, I don’t know much else.’

  ‘Good God, woman, isn’t that enough?’ But he must have known it wasn’t, could never be, not after everything they’d shared. Beside her, she felt his body stiffen slightly. ‘What do you want to know?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ So she was going to push a little, then back off if it felt like too much. ‘There’s something I’ve been wondering about. You once said you moved a lot—Lizzie mentioned you were shifted to someone’s house? Mrs Something… When she baked the cake with the melted icing? And you cut her off mid-sentence. Why?’

  He dropped her hand and for a moment she thought he was going to walk away, but he didn’t. ‘You don’t want to hear about my old history.’

  ‘Actually, I do.’ She sat down on the lawn and tugged him next to her.

  He tried to pull away. ‘It’s getting late.’

  ‘Jack, I know I’m walking a thin line here. I know there are no promises or roses for us. But…oh, God, this is too hard.’ She climbed to her knees, knowing he was used to being on his own, that he liked it. That he had never tried to open up to her. Time to get out. This was stupid. ‘Forget it.’

  His gaze locked on to hers, his mouth a thin line of uncertainty, and she saw a battle raging deep inside him.

  After a few moments he sat on the grass and wrapped his arms round his legs, creating his own cocoon, rested his chin on his knees. Again he asked, ‘What do you want to know? Because there’s a whole lot of stuff there and I don’t know where to begin. I never know where to begin.’

  A silence wove around them as she watched him, huddled and sitting apart from her, her heart breaking just a little at the darkness in his eyes. Hurt? Because of her or because of some memory she was insisting he relive just so she could feel closer to him? ‘I’m sorry, Jack.’

  ‘Nothing to be sorry about,’ he murmured, his voice barely audible. But neither of them got up to go. The last dying rays of the sun warmed her face but she felt cold because she had a feeling that whatever he was going to say wasn’t pretty. Where exactly to begin? In the end she just plainly asked, ‘Why did you pin up Lizzie’s hair?’

  He squeezed his eyes closed. ‘Because I was the only one who she’d allow anywhere near her hair. It’s a bit wild and used to get into knots which took forever to comb through. Besides, no one else had the time. Or inclination.’

  ‘Why not?’

  He turned away, as if deciding what to say. When he turned back to her, his face was serious, that lovely deep mellow voice had lost all emotion. Cold, matter-of-fact, causing a chill down the back of her neck. ‘We weren’t part of anyone’s lives for long. No one was really interested in what yet more foster kids wanted. So it was down to me. I looked out for her, looked after her as best I could. You ever need nit removal, I’m your go-to guy.’ He tried to find a smile, but failed and looked even more drawn because of it.

  ‘God, that’s awful.’ Cassie remembered her sisters fighting over who would plait her hair—over and over again. For a good part of her life she’d been their plaything, a living doll that they’d dressed and fed and pushed around in a baby buggy even when she was far too big to fit in it. When their father had died they’d closed ranks and protected her, shielded her from the emotional upheaval as much as they could. Even now, she was treated as if she wasn’t quite grown-up, and it was annoying, but she couldn’t imagine having no one interested in her. Heartbreaking. But it explained something about the way he felt he could barge into his sister’s wedding. They must have grown close if they’d only had each other.

  Only each other. Her throat closed over.

  He shrugged, but he couldn’t hide the resentment. The tinge of sadness playing out as smudges under his eyes. ‘Yeah, well, you can forget the puppy-eyed pity, Cassie. It’s life. And forever ago. If I went anywhere near Lizzie’s hair now she’d probably hit me with a solid right hook.’

  She tried to laugh, but her throat was too raw; there was no humour here. None. ‘Why were you fostered?’

  Again, a pause. A look away. A battle for words. ‘Marion, our mother, wasn’t mother material. She was poor and uneducated and didn’t know how to look after babies—but she sure knew how to make them. Lizzie and I don’t have the same dad, but that’s fairly obvious. I’m not sure if Marion knew who our dads were—difficult to know when you’re having regular sex with lots of guys for cash.’

  ‘She was a prostitute?’ She tried not to be judgemental, but the hopelessness of the situation bit deep in her heart.

  ‘Yes. But it was a means to an end, and meant she had no time or energy—or love, really—for us. We were just mouths to feed that she didn’t want. I spent six years starving and dirty, trying to look after Lizzie when I had no clue how, barely more than a baby myself. One day I told my teacher the extent of what was happening at home and she called the authorities. Then we were moved, and moved, and moved.’

  ‘Why? Why didn’t someone take you in and love you?’

  He shook his head and laughed, coldly. ‘What a nice rosy picture of the foster system you have. One family moved back to Australia and didn’t want to take us with them. One mum got sick and couldn’t look after us. Another mum got pregnant and had her own baby and we were suddenly surplus to her requirements.’

  ‘That’s cruel, Jack. Do you ever have any contact with Marion? Know where she is?
Is she still alive?’

  He nodded. ‘As part of the deal, she was supposed to stay in contact with us—supervised access with a social worker. She never turned up. Not once. At first it was gutting. Then it was expected. Then it was normal. We tried to forget her and look forward. So every time we started at a new place we thought: this is going to be it, our home. We unpacked our pathetic grubby suitcases and got excited and dreamt big, tried to fit in, tried to make new friends, tried to be the perfect kids just so they’d keep us. And every single time they swooped in and took us away; the last place we stayed was a grubby children’s home. By then we’d stopped dreaming, stopped getting excited, stopped trying to connect with anyone but each other.’

  She reached over to him and wrapped her hand over his. When he took it she shuffled closer and leaned against him to give him some physical contact, because she didn’t want him having to face saying all this on his own. He had her now too and she was a damned good fighter. ‘So you relied solely on each other. I feel bad that I accused you of being overbearing and overprotective.’

  ‘Don’t, for God’s sake. You’re coming from a very different scenario. Your father died in tragic circumstances; your family had a way of dealing with it. And you’re more than entitled to bitch a little.’

  ‘But still, I shouldn’t have been so damning of the way you were acting.’

  ‘You were right, though. I was over the top, barging in.’ He rubbed the back of his neck and spoke to his feet. ‘See, I did the best I could, but Lizzie was damaged by it. When I found her that day I felt responsible. I knew she wasn’t well, and I’d left her alone. She nearly died. I decided I’d have to do a damned sight better for us or lie down and die alongside her. The only thing I was good at was making amateur films so, once she got a little better, I threw all my energy into that, earning cash to pay for her rent and college fees. Only it takes me away more than I want. Not that it matters so much now she has Callum.’

  ‘Yes, but she’ll always need her brother.’ She squeezed his arm.

  ‘Yeah.’ But he didn’t look convinced. He wanted his sister to be happy, but he wanted to be part of her life too, that was clear. And Lizzie had needed him so much over the years, but now she had another man to love.

  ‘Seriously, Jack, you may be a giant pain in the backside, but she’ll always love you.’ That raised a smile and she put her arm round his shoulder. In one sweep he had her in his arms, holding her. Just holding.

  Cassie didn’t think it was possible to feel more for the man than she already did. That he’d come through such a childhood and been so successful and wholly sane astounded her. Impressed her. She felt nothing but admiration for what he’d achieved. And a whole lot else. Her heart swelled at how much he’d grown and moved on, how hard he’d fought. How this kind and gentle man who had enough demons of his own had managed to protect his sister.

  Not only that, but he was everything she’d described to him before. He was considerate, had looked after her when she’d been sick, had helped her out on her stall, had ridden the waves of her continual lateness and still offered her the contract for his sister’s wedding. He made her feel safe, wanted, sexy. She hoped more than anything that she instilled those things in him; she wanted to make him smile every day. Every minute. Wanted him with such a need she couldn’t think straight, couldn’t sleep.

  If that was love, then perhaps, just perhaps she was falling in love with him.

  But the harsh truth was that he wasn’t in love with her.

  This whole fling thing didn’t mean anything, they’d agreed. And yet, even so, she’d done the most stupid thing in the world and thought she could control her emotions.

  Her throat felt raw. No, her whole chest was constricted. She could not love this man. You do not want to get involved with me.

  This was the worst possible thing to happen, the worst timing. The worst man to fall for—one who didn’t just not love her, but who didn’t want to love anyone. He’d spent his life making sure he didn’t fall prey, like she had, to something that might damage him. He’d been damaged enough. I’m not going to open every wound for you.

  He’d warned her and she had not listened. She leaned her head against his shoulder as he stroked her back in long soft movements. Breathed in his so familiar smell, felt the tension melt away from his body. Holding him, just touching him was torture and ecstasy. She didn’t want to let go, but she had to. Like tearing away a layer of her heart, bloody and bruised.

  Was it worse then, to never allow yourself to fall in love for risk of hurting too much? Or to fall in love anyway and endure the hurt that came at the end?

  She wanted to make him feel better, somehow, but declaring how she felt would surely make him run in the opposite direction. Selfish, really, to have heard his story and think about how this might affect her, but self-protection ran deep through her blood too. She twisted from him and looked at her watch, keeping her voice gentle. ‘Goodness, it’s getting late. We should get going.’

  ‘Yeah. I guess.’ He huffed out a long breath, closing his eyes. He didn’t move. Just sat there for a few more minutes and as she watched him she knew she couldn’t let this chance go. It was rash and dangerous, but wasn’t that the way she lived her life? Rattling out of control?

  He looked so desolate and alone that if she did tell him how she felt then maybe she could change things for him, prove to him that good things could happen, that people could be treasured and wanted. That you could find happiness, a home—it was possible.

  Maybe they could work things out?

  Maybe not. Maybe she was on a hiding to nothing. He’d laugh at her.

  Like him, she’d been fighting her feelings for so long, scared to trust anyone ever again, scared of them taking over, of losing herself. But with Jack she was still complete—she didn’t lose anything of herself, but she gained so much more.

  Could she? Dare she? Take a risk? Like he’d done that first day he’d walked up the steps to kiss her. Or the second time when he’d turned up at her house. Or the time he’d helped her with her tyre and then still given her the catering contract. For someone in control, he’d taken a few risks around her.

  Knowing he was prepared to do that for her had made her stronger, made her start to trust again.

  If she broached the subject, maybe they could move past this barrier of pretence they’d erected, stop making out that this was a temporary attraction, that after the wedding they could walk away unscathed. Because this turning up on each other’s doorstep, the fevered love-making, the shared jokes…wasn’t that worth something? She damned well thought it was.

  Her heart thundered, she couldn’t walk, couldn’t stop this. Maybe it was time to be honest.

  *

  Jack stood and took hold of Cassie’s hand again—things felt better that way. And, yeah, although his gut felt hollowed out a little, he was still whole. Kind of more whole now than he’d ever been. Sharing that stuff was hard; it made him remember things he didn’t want to ever relive. And he’d worried how she would take it. It wasn’t exactly a fairy tale, but they were past that, he knew. Neither of them believed in all that guff about happy ever afters. Cassie was a realist, he’d come to learn.

  But she seemed in a hurry to get back to the house. Maybe his story had shocked her more than he’d expected it would but he wasn’t ready to go back inside; he liked being free, breathing in fresh air. ‘We could just walk over to the Japanese garden, then double back to the house?’

  ‘No, can we just go straight back?’ She looked a little shaken but she didn’t let go of his hand.

  ‘Hey, are you okay?’

  ‘Yes, thanks.’

  ‘I didn’t mean to upset you. It doesn’t affect me any more; it’s just what happened.’ Liar.

  He was so used to her amazing genuine sunny smiles that he knew this one was half pretence, half something else. Sadness? Pity? Her voice sounded strained and strange. ‘I’m not upset, Jack. Well, I mean, what happene
d to you was very upsetting, but I’m just tired. Too much excitement for one day.’

  ‘Again, not as much as I’d like.’ It was becoming a running joke. He slipped his arm round her waist and pulled her closer, running fingers across an inch of bare skin between her top and skirt waistband and he thought about breaking every rule and having her here on the path.

  Did she flinch? Or had he tickled her? He couldn’t be sure but she seemed disconcerted, different. Serious. Perhaps she would smile again at the thought of some more fun. Clear the air. Freshen things up again. ‘Are you ready for dessert? And…do you want to stay over?’

  That was a biggie for them both; last time she’d sent him packing, this time he’d make sure she wanted to stay again. She seemed startled, her eyes lighting up. ‘Oh. I…yes. But there’s something you need to know.’

  ‘That you snore? No worries, I have industry standard ear plugs.’

  She laughed nervously, her hand became fidgety and he let it loose so she could talk with it. But she walked along, her head down, the crazy mess of colours of her clothes blending in with the summer flowers that flanked the path. Her body seemed quieted, still almost. Eerily composed. This not talking was so unlike her. They walked in silence for a while as dusk cast russet shades through the trees.

  When they reached his gate she rested her hand on the lever but didn’t open it. She seemed to be struggling with something in her head, then finally she looked as if she’d decided what to say and how to say it. ‘Jack. I need to tell you something.’

  Her face was so serious his stomach twisted into a knot. She’s not catering the wedding. She’s pregnant. She’s leaving. ‘Er…Okay. You want to go inside?’

  ‘Here’s as good a place as any.’ She took both of his hands in hers and looked up at him, those large blue eyes shimmering. After a deep breath that she let out slowly, she spoke. ‘Jack, I know I said that I wasn’t looking for anything serious. That those kisses, that this…us—’ she pointed to him and then back at her chest ‘—doesn’t mean anything…’