She replayed that lovely feeling of having his arm around her and resisted the temptation to reach out and cover his hand with hers.
They drew up to the cottage in comfortable silence. Set in the grounds of the manor house, it was originally designed to house the head butler, but it had been annexed years before the Rocchis had moved in by a wily investor who had seen it as an efficient way of making some additional money. It was a happy coincidence that her father had bought the tiny two-bedroom place at around the same time as the Rocchis had moved into the manor house. Her own mother had died when she, Jennifer, had been just a toddler and Daisy Rocchi, unable to have any more children after James, had become a surrogate mother, bypassing all rules and conventions that predicated against two families of such differing incomes becoming close.
‘Dad’s not in.’ Jennifer turned to look at James and cleared her throat. ‘Why don’t you… um… come in for something to drink? You barely had any of that wine tonight.’
‘If I had thought ahead, I would have booked a taxi for us instead of driving myself.’
‘Well, I know there’s some wine in the fridge and I think dad’s got a bottle of whisky in the cupboard. His once-a-month vice, he tells me.’ She wasn’t sure what she would do if he turned down her offer but he didn’t and she breathed a sigh of relief as he said no to the alcohol but opted for a cup of coffee instead.
Inside the cottage, she switched on the lamp in the sitting room instead of the harsher overheard light and urged him in while she prepared them coffee with shaking hands. She was trying very hard to recapture the excitement and confidence she had felt earlier on in the restaurant as she had gazed at her reflection in the mirror and told herself that this date had arrived at just the perfect time, when she was still riding the crest of a wave, with her finals behind her and an exciting new job ahead of her.
She was so lost in her thoughts that she almost sent both mugs of coffee crashing to the ground as she turned to find James lounging in the doorway to the kitchen. Very carefully, she rested the mugs on the pine kitchen table and took two steps to close the distance between them.
Now or never, Jennifer thought with feverish determination. She had nurtured this crush for way too long. All through her time at university, she had tried to make herself like the boys who had asked her out, but her thoughts had always returned to James. His heart-stopping sex appeal and their shared history were a potent, heady combination and she had never quite managed to break free of its spell.
‘I… I liked what you did earlier…’ The palms of her hands were sweaty with nerves.
‘You mean the cake and ice cream?’ He laughed and looked down at her. ‘Like I said, I know what a sucker you are for sweet things.’
‘Actually I was talking about after that.’
‘Sorry. I’m not following you.’
‘When you put your arms around me on the way to the car. I liked that.’ She slid her hand over his chest and nearly fainted at the hard body underneath her fingers. ‘James…’ She looked up at him and before she could chicken out she closed her eyes and tiptoed up to reach him. The first taste of his cool mouth sent a charge of adrenaline racing through her body and with a soft moan she kissed him harder, reached up to wind her arms around his neck as her body curved against his.
Her breasts were aching, her heart was beating like a drum. Every nerve in her body was alive with sensations she had never felt with anyone in her life before. Every kiss she had ever shared with other boys was drowned out by the scorching heat of this kiss. She felt his response as he kissed her back and that response was enough for her to take his hand and guide it underneath the loose shirt, up to the lacy bra that she had worn especially.
She was so lost in the moment that it was a few seconds before she realised that he was gently but firmly detaching himself from her and it was a few more seconds before it sank in that this was not a gesture preparatory to taking her upstairs. This much-longed-for evening was not going to end in her bedroom, making love while candles flickered in the background. She had agonised over her choice of linen, ditching her usual flowery bedcovers for something plain instead. He wasn’t going to see any of it.
‘Jennifer…’
Unable to bear the gentleness in his voice, she spun around with her arms tightly clasped around her body.
‘I’m sorry. Please go.’
‘We need to talk about what… what happened just then.’
‘No. We don’t.’ She refused to look up as he circled round to face her. She kept her eyes pinned to his shoes while her body went hot and cold with mortification. She was no longer a sexy woman on a date with the guy for whom she had spent years nursing an inexhaustible infatuation. She bitterly wallowed in the reality that she was an awkward and not particularly attractive woman in a stupid, newly purchased outfit who had just made a complete fool of herself.
‘Look at me, Jen. Please.’
‘I got the wrong end of the stick, James, and I apologise. I thought… I don’t know what I thought…’
‘You’re embarrassed and I understand that but—’
‘Don’t say any more!’
‘I have to. We’re friends. If we leave this to fester, things will never be the same between us again. I enjoy your company. I wouldn’t want to lose what we have. For God’s sake, Jennifer, at least look at me!’
She looked up at him and for the first time the sight of him didn’t thrill her.
‘Don’t beat yourself up, Jen. I kissed you back and for that I apologise. I shouldn’t have.’
But he had and she knew why. What man wouldn’t succumb to a woman who flung herself at him? It was telling that he had come to his senses in a matter of seconds. Even with everything on offer, she hadn’t been able to tempt him.
‘You’re young. You’re about to embark on the biggest adventure of your life—’
‘Oh, spare me the pity talk,’ Jennifer muttered.
‘I’m not pitying you.’ He stuck his hands in the pockets of his trousers and shook his head in frustration.
‘Yes, you are! I’ve been a complete idiot and I’ve put us both in an awkward position and none of it is your fault! Okay, so when you asked me out to dinner tonight, I thought it was more than just two friends having a meal. I fooled myself into believing that you might have begun to see me as a woman instead of the girl next door! Instead of the clumsy, ungainly, unappealing, borderline unattractive girl next door.’
‘Don’t put yourself down. I don’t like it.’
‘I’m not putting myself down.’ She managed to meet his eyes without flinching although it cost her every ounce of will power. ‘I’m being honest. I’ve had a crush on you—’
‘And there’s nothing wrong with that…’
‘You knew.’
‘It was endearing.’
‘Well, a pleasant distraction from when your pocket-sized blonde bombshells were being too demanding, at any rate.’
‘You had a schoolgirl crush and there’s nothing sinful about that,’ James told her with such sincerity that she itched to slap him. ‘But you’re young. I know you said that you’re only a few years younger than me, but in terms of experience we’re light years apart. Trust me when I tell you that in a year’s time you’ll have forgotten all about this. You’ll have met some nice lad…’
‘Yes,’ Jennifer parroted dutifully, wanting this entire conversation to be over so that she could go upstairs and bury herself under the freshly laundered covers.
He sighed and shook his head. This was a Jennifer he didn’t recognise. Gone was the smiling, malleable girl. Had he known that she had a crush on him? Yes, of course he had, although he had never openly addressed the issue. Now, for the first time, he could sense her locking him out. He understood but it was a strange sensation and he didn’t like it.
‘Your feelings for me are misplaced,’ he told her roughly. ‘I wasn’t lying when I told you that you want to enjoy your youth with boys who are uncomplicated
and fun-loving.’
‘You make it sound as though I was looking for… looking for something more than just…’
‘A romp in the sack?’
Mortified, Jennifer shrugged.
‘You deserve a lot more than I could give you.’
By which, she thought, you mean that there’s nothing you’re interested in giving me aside from a peck on the cheek every now and again and lots of good advice about how to live my life.
He was being patronising and the worst of it was that he wasn’t even aware of it.
‘Don’t worry about me, James,’ she said with a forced smile, relieving him of the obligation to keep thinking about her feelings because he was a decent human being. ‘I’ll be fine. These things happen.’ Two steps back, putting distance between them. ‘I probably won’t see you before I leave.’
‘No.’
‘Of course I’ll keep in touch and I’m sure we’ll bump into one another now and again.’ One more step back.
‘You’ll be all right, will you?’
Jennifer chose to interpret this at face value and she looked at him with a polite, unfocused expression. ‘Of course I will. As I told you, the job I’ll be doing over there isn’t going to be substantially different than what I’ve done over the summer vacations. Naturally, I’ll be following through on a lot more and there’ll be a great deal of translating but I’m sure I’ll be able to handle it.’
‘Right. Good.’
‘So.’
James hesitated and raked his fingers through his hair.
‘Thanks for dinner, James… and I’ll see you…’
She remained frozen to the spot as he brushed past her, pausing fleetingly, as though hesitant to leave.
What did he think she was going to do? Jennifer wondered. Fling herself out of her bedroom window because he had rejected her? Was she so pathetic in his eyes that he doubted her ability to get over the slight?
The soft click of the front door closing signalled his departure and it was only once she was certain that he had left the cottage that Jennifer slumped.
She closed her eyes and thought of the excited girl who had bought a new outfit especially for her big date. She remembered her anticipation at having him all to herself over dinner. She had dreamt of seduction and of finally having this crazy crush of hers fulfilled. It suddenly felt like a million years ago and, although a year wasn’t long, it was long enough to say goodbye to that person.
CHAPTER ONE
EXCEPT one year became two, which became three, which became four. And in all those four years, Jennifer had not once set eyes on James. Each Christmas, she had contrived to bring her father over to Paris for the holidays, which he had loved. What had begun as a one-year placement, during which she could consolidate her French, had seen her rise through the company, and as she had risen so too had her pay cheque. She found that she could afford to holiday with her father abroad, and on those occasions when she had returned to England she had been careful with her visits, always making sure that they were brief and that James was nowhere in the vicinity.
He had walked out of the cottage four years previously and she had fled to Paris, her wounds still raw. She couldn’t imagine ever facing him again, and not facing him had developed into a habit. He had emailed her, and she had been happy enough to email back, but on the occasions when he had been in Paris she had excused herself from meeting him on grounds of being too busy, prior engagements, not well, anything because the memory of him gently letting her down remained, that open wound quietly hurting somewhere in the background of her shiny new life.
Except now…
She had nodded off on the train and woke with a start as it pulled into the station.
When she looked through the window it was to see that the flurries of snow that she had left behind in London were a steady fall here in Kent. The weather was always so much harsher out here. She had forgotten.
At six-thirty in the evening the train was packed with commuters and fetching her bags was chaotic, with people jostling her on all sides, but eventually she was out of the train and braving the freezing temperatures and snow on the platform.
She wasn’t planning on staying long. Just long enough to sort out the problems in the cottage, problems she had learnt about via an email from James who had been checking his house in his mother’s absence and had happened to walk down to the cottage to take a look only to find water seeping out from under the front door. Her father was away on his annual post-Christmas three-week holiday to visit his brother in Scotland. The email had read:
You can pass this on to your father, but I gather you’re in the country so you might want to check it out yourself instead of ruining your father’s fishing trip. This, of course, presupposes that you can interrupt your busy schedule.
The tone of the email was the final nail in the coffin of their enduring friendship. She had run away and, never looked back, and over time, the chasm between them had become so vast that it was now unbreachable terrain. His emails, which had been warm and concerned at the beginning of her stint in Paris, had gradually become cooler and more formal, in direct proportion to her avoidance tactics. It occurred to her that she actually hadn’t heard from him at all for at least six months.
In Paris, she could tell herself that she didn’t mind, that this was just the way things had turned out in the end, that their friendship had always been destined to run its course because it had been an unrealistic union of the inaccessible boy in the manor house and the childishly doting girl next door.
But now here, back in Kent, his email was a vaguely sexy reminder of how things used to be.
She wheeled her suitcase out to where a bank of taxis was only just managing to keep the snow on their cars from settling by virtue of having their engines running. Everywhere, the snow was forming a layer of white.
The water had been cleared, James had informed her, but there was a lot of collateral damage, which she would have to assess for the insurance company. He had managed to get the heating started. So at least when she arrived at the cottage, she wouldn’t freeze to death. She hoped he might have left her some fresh provisions before he cleared off, on his way to Singapore for a series of meetings, he had politely informed her in his email, but she wasn’t banking on it.
That was how far their friendship had devolved. When Jennifer thought about it for too long, she could feel a lump of sadness in her throat and she had to remind herself of that terrible night when she had made such a fool of herself. Someone better and stronger might have been able to survive that and laughingly put it behind them so that a friendship could be maintained, but she couldn’t.
For her, it had been a devastating learning curve and she had learnt from it.
She gazed out of the window of the taxi but could barely see anything because of the snow. Deep in the heart of the Kent countryside, the trip, in conditions like this, would take over an hour. She settled in for the long haul and let her thoughts drift without restraint.
It had been a while since she had returned to the cottage for any length of time. She and her father had spent summer in Majorca, two weeks of sun and sea, and every six weeks she brought him over for a weekend. She loved the fact that she could afford to do that now. She knew that there was a part of her that was reluctant to return to the place that held so many memories of James, but that was fine because her father was more than happy to travel out to see her and she always, always made sure that she met Daisy, James’s mother, for lunch in London when she was over on business. She had politely asked about James and given evasive non-answers whenever Daisy showed any curiosity as to why they no longer seemed to meet. Eventually his name had been quietly dropped from conversations.
To think of him moving around in the cottage made something in her shiver. Sometimes, a memory of the scent of him, clean and masculine and woody, would surface from nowhere, leaving her shaken. She hoped that scent wouldn’t be lingering in the cottage when she got there. She
was tired and it was too cold to run around opening windows to let out an elusive smell.
By the time they reached the cottage, driving was becoming impossible.
‘And they predict at least a week of this,’ the driver said bitterly. ‘Business is bad enough as it is without Mother Nature getting involved.’
‘Oh, this won’t last,’ Jennifer said airily. ‘I’ve got to be back in London by day after tomorrow.’
‘Lots of clothes for an overnight stay.’ The driver struggled up to the door with the case, unable to wheel it in the snow.
‘I’ll be leaving one or two things behind. Clearing out old stuff.’
She paid him, thinking of the task that lay ahead. Aside from sorting out the cottage, she would be bagging up all those frumpy clothes that had once been the mainstay of her wardrobe. None of them would fit any more. In the space of four years, she had been seduced by Parisian chic. She had lost weight, or maybe, thanks to her daily run, the weight had just been reassigned. At any rate, the body she had once avoided looking at in the mirror now attracted wolf whistles and stares from strangers and she was not ashamed to wear clothes that accentuated it. Nothing revealing, that would never be her style, but fashionable and figure hugging. Her untamed hair had been tamed over the years, thanks to the expert scissors of her hairdresser. It was still long, longer even than it used to be, but it was cleverly layered so that the frizz had been replaced with curls.
The cottage was in complete darkness although the door was surprisingly unlocked. She lugged the suitcase through and slammed the door shut behind her, luxuriating for a few seconds in the blissful warmth, eyes closed, lights still off because she just wanted to enjoy the cottage before she could see all the damage that had been caused by the flood.
And then she opened her eyes and there he was. Lounging against the door that led into the kitchen.
The cottage hadn’t been in complete darkness, as she had first thought. No, one of the kitchen lights had been switched on, but the kitchen was at the back of the house and the door leading to it had been shut when she had entered.
The Girl He'd Overlooked Page 2
