by Jules Wake
She checked her phone again. Still no word from Laurie. It was now ten past twelve.
Siena shifted her bag and her weight from foot to foot.
The movement caught the attention of the dark-haired guy at the barrier as he briefly turned around. How could a grown man pout like that and still look attractive? He should have looked ridiculous but that fuller lower lip was really rather cute. She sneaked another look at his face and he swung around properly to give her a baleful glare. As he did, she caught sight of the name on the sheet he held.
Ah merde!
He’d spelt her name wrongly but then most people did, so she could hardly hold that against him. Flashing her best million kilowatt smile, she took a step forward, her head inclining towards her name. He looked down at the name and then back at her, not saying a word. His face didn’t warm one iota, if anything he looked even more forbidding.
Like a Mexican standoff, both of them stood waiting for the other to break and say the first word. They stood there as the seconds ticked away, neither saying anything. Clenching her hands to her sides, the tiredness she’d been fighting won. ‘I’m Siena. Just one ‘n’.’
‘How do you know I’m not here to pick up Sienna, two ‘n’s?’ he grumbled.
Damn, that hadn’t occurred to her. She shrugged, ‘Sorry, my mistake.’
She’d only taken two strides when a hand grabbed her arm.
‘I’m guessing you are Laurie’s sister?’
‘Yes.’ Siena observed him with curious eyes. Piercing blue eyes bored into her, the wide mouth with its full lower lip had flattened into a mutinous line. Gorgeous and grumpy, without an ounce of charm.
‘I had to pick you up. Laurie isn’t around at the moment.’
‘Oh.’ Siena felt a bit put out. ‘Where is she?’
He raised an eyebrow. She hated it when people could do that. ‘Where is she? You’re asking that?’
‘It wasn’t a trick question.’
‘Seriously? You text at six in the evening. Expect her to drop everything. Pick you up and then you ask, ‘Where is she?’’
‘I don’t see what it’s got to do with you.’ Whoever this man was, he had a cheek.
He stood and considered her for a moment, she felt like a model being sized up to see if the designer’s clothes would fit.
‘No, I guess you don’t. You’re right, it has nothing to do with me.’ Despite agreeing with her, he still managed to make it sound like an insult. ‘She’s up in Yorkshire.’
‘Yorkshire!’ Siena felt a bit stupid echoing his words but she didn’t actually know what or where Yorkshire was or why it was up. That sounded decidedly odd, as if it were in space or something, which she was pretty sure she would have heard of, if any part of the world had colonised space.
‘Norah had a fall, Laurie’s been at the hospital for most of the day. She asked me to pick you up. She can’t get a great phone signal there, so couldn’t contact you to let you know she wasn’t around. I’m to take you back to the house for tonight. Laurie will speak to you in the morning.’ He bit out each sentence as if he had a mouthful of tacks he was scared of losing.
Siena vaguely remembered the mention of a Norah from some of Laurie’s recent emails.
‘I thought Norah worked for Uncle Miles. Wasn’t she the housekeeper?’ mused Siena out loud which was stupid because the driver was hardly going to know.
Could a scowl get any deeper? ‘She still is. He’s dead obviously but she’s still the housekeeper at the house.’
‘OK,’ said Siena still doing her best to keep her smile up despite his quelling expression and the confusing information.
Siena felt she’d strayed into very dangerous territory but had no idea what had tipped it over into a fully operational minefield. Any minute now, this rather scary but gorgeous man, might blow. It unnerved her. People were usually nice to her. Most people. It seemed safest to keep smiling and not irritate him further by saying anything. Although her smiles didn’t seem to be having much effect on his mood. The silence stretched out between them until eventually with an exasperated huff, he spoke.
‘Norah is eighty-six,’ he said it slowly followed by a laboured pause, ‘Laurie said she couldn’t just abandon her.’
‘Yes, of course not.’ Siena’s cheeks were starting to hurt but she persevered.
‘So she asked me to pick you up.’
‘Ok, well … Hi, I’m – you know who I am. Laurie’s sister.’
‘I know exactly who you are,’ he replied dryly.
Did he have to make it sound as if she were so unsavoury? She was house trained.
‘Is that your luggage?’ He pointed to her cabin bag and the bulging duty free bag.
She nodded. The cabin bag did look a bit sad on its own but there’d been no time to pack properly. Luckily she’d been able to stock up on all the essentials in duty free.
‘Yes, it’s not much but I need to buy my spring wardrobe soon anyway, so I figured I might as well do it while I’m here. So, yes that’s it, I’m afraid.’
He gave her a dirty look. ‘It’s not a problem, I promise you.’ Without another word he set off, deliberately walking at speed as if to keep a healthy distance between them.
‘Er, excuse me?’ she called after him. He turned. ‘Haven’t you forgotten something?’ He might be a poor excuse for a driver but he should still do the basics. ‘My bags?’
Blue eyes burned bright with indignation and he shook his head, muttering under his breath. He snatched the bags up and marched off. No tip for him then. Oh hell, they used sterling in England didn’t they? There were only euros in her purse.
Following, she tried to keep up with his long-legged stride.
Maybe this had been a terrible idea. Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she snatched it up. Laurie? No, Maman. Her diaphragm tensed and for a minute she couldn’t breathe. Flash. Flash. Flash. Like a lighthouse, the beam on her iPhone pulsed with urgency. She stopped and stared down, her finger hovering over the screen.
Ahead of her the man had stopped and turned.
‘Going to get that? Or just stare at it all night. Some of us have places to be in the morning.’
She sighed and caught up with him. Once they got to the car, he would be driving and she could get in the back and sleep until they got to Laurie’s house in Leighton Buzzard. She had no idea what part of London that was or how long it would take to get there but it felt easier not to ask him.
Siena skidded to a halt but didn’t dare open her mouth. He had to be kidding. What sort of Mickey Mouse outfit did this guy work for?
‘Come on,’ he growled over his shoulder as he unlocked the boot of the mud-covered Land Rover. ‘It’s already after midnight.’
‘Seriously?’ She stared at the dirty green paintwork, unconsciously echoing his earlier phrase. ‘This is your car?’
‘Seriously yes. It’s my car. But don’t worry, there is an alternative.’
‘Thank goodness for that.’ She looked around the car park and spotted a pristine black Mercedes parked two bays along. ‘Where?’
He looked down, his eyes travelling the length of her legs to the floor. She followed his gaze.
‘What?’
‘You’re looking at them.’
She flushed. Tossing her head she crossed to the door of the car, with as much froideur as she could manage, opened it and hauled herself in. It was a long way up. Half way, she realised her mistake.
He stood by the door grinning holding a set of keys. ‘Missing something.’
She slid back out, refusing to look at him, keeping her face totally impassive and walked around the back of the car to the passenger seat. So, she was used to left hand drive cars, he didn’t need to be mean about it.
This horrible thing looked Spartan and uncomfortable. Unlikely she’d be taking a nap. Even climbing up was ungainly and her tight jeans protested, cutting sharply into her thighs. Immediately her feet were buried ankle deep in white paper bags, Coke cans and
disposable coffee cups.
A pervading scent of manure and sweaty socks filled the vehicle. You couldn’t call it a car; it wasn’t civilised enough.
Years of being instilled with impeccable manners didn’t prevent her involuntary shudder. His eyes sharpened for a moment and she thought she’d offended him again. Although he seemed pretty easily offended.
‘Sorry about the mess. I wasn’t expecting passengers today.’
‘Were you ever?’ The words slipped out before she could stop them.
His head shot round and his dark eyes flashed with the closest thing to approval she’d yet seen. He gave her a rueful smile. ‘You got me there. No, this is my work horse.’ He patted the dashboard affectionately as he glanced down at her feet which she’d used to push the mass of litter to one side. There was a rustle as a couple of Coke cans tumbled together.
‘Ugh,’ she clutched her knees in her hand lifting her feet above the mess, ‘you haven’t got rats in here have you?’
A mischievous glint danced in his eyes and his face lit up with a sudden cheerful smile. ‘It’s a distinct possibility.’ And with that he started the engine, which coughed into life with a noisy, diesel fuelled rumble.
Siena sneaked a surreptitious look at his profile as he concentrated on manoeuvring the beast out of the car park. Now they were in the car his temper seemed to have abated. He seemed a tiny bit more human and, she had to admit, very good-looking in an unpolished way. Not that he was her kind of man. Too scruffy and masculine. Butch. Far too butch. Dark stubble shaded his chin and cheeks, emphasising the strong lines of his face and heavy jawline. Put him in a decent suit and he’d brush up nicely, although his arms and legs seemed rather muscular. Powerful. She tucked her hands under her legs and shrank into her seat.
Yves had a completely different build; slim and slender and of course, much older.
She checked out his clothes. Double denim. A fashion fiasco. She suspected he wouldn’t care if she pointed out that some people believed it was an unpardonable offence to wear jeans and a denim jacket unless you were a member of Status Quo.
Clean hair; nice and silky even though it might as well have been cut by a near-sighted trainee with a pair of blunt hedge clippers. Breathing in, she took in his scent, slightly earthy but not unclean. Siena could bet he didn’t do aftershave.
‘There isn’t an exam you know.’
Siena started and blushed. What was wrong with her? This man had caught her sniffing him, or as good as. Her face burned. At home she would have apologised profusely. It was rude to stare and plainly even ruder to overtly smell people but for some reason, maybe being away from home gave her tongue licence to say what she really thought for a change, she said, ‘Just checking out my surroundings and getting my orientation.’
‘I’m Jason. I’m twenty-nine. That do you?’
‘And are you always this fache?’ she shrugged as she grasped for the proper word. (Cross, that was it.) And then very nearly spoilt things by gasping at her own boldness. She never said things like that to people and she’d certainly learned not to with Yves. That sort of thing did make him cross.
‘No, only when I’ve been up since half past five this morning and I have to be up again in five hours.’ He slipped a silver foil packet out of his pocket, easing out a tablet with one hand and popping it into his mouth.
‘I guess you’re a bit tired then.’ No wonder he was knocking back the energy tablets or whatever they were.
He shot her an incredulous look. ‘No shit Sherlock.’
Siena snapped her mouth shut. She’d been about to add, that she was grateful for him coming out. These people worked incredibly hard. Was it any wonder he was cranky with those hours? Although it was probably a hazard of the job, early morning airport runs were probably the most lucrative. She wrinkled her nose.
‘You know,’ she smiled to show she was being helpful rather than rude, ‘you might get more customers if you cleaned up in here. Maybe got a better car.’
‘I can’t see how.’
‘You mean your customers don’t mind?’
‘None of them have complained so far.’
Siena pulled a face to herself in the dark. Maybe British people were less fussy about their taxis.
With an ungainly swerve, the car rocked at speed around a bend taking the slip road. Alain, the family chauffeur, would have been appalled.
Weren’t they now going in the opposite direction to the signposts for London? Her stomach followed suit and nausea churned in the pit of her stomach.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked, rather proud that her voice sounded normal. She should have asked this Jason man for some kind of identification. Thierry Deneuve’s seventeen-year-old daughter had been kidnapped in Italy last June. Everyone knew he’d paid a hefty ransom demand to get her back, even though the police warned them not to.
‘Home?’
‘What, your home?’ Siena sat up straighter, clutching her bag closer to her chest and eyed the passing lights outside. They were going by pretty quickly now. She probably looked ridiculous but if she had to make a run for it, she had everything she needed in there.
Jason turned his head and gave her a funny look. ‘Strictly speaking, I guess it’s Laurie’s house.’
‘I might have just stepped off the plane but I can read.’
‘Good for you.’
Did he think she was stupid? ‘So why are we headed in the opposite direction?’
Occasionally taxi drivers in Paris took her on a circular route if they heard her speaking English, making the assumption she was a tourist.
‘We’re not.’
‘So why did it say London that way?’ She pointed back up the motorway.
‘Because. It. Is.’
‘So why are we going this way towards Slew?’ She pointed to the overhead blue sign, which had handily appeared at exactly that moment. He didn’t need to know she didn’t have a clue where Slough was.
Jason snorted and said in a strangled voice, ‘Where?’
‘Slew,’ she said her eyes narrowing. Wait ‘til she spoke to Laurie; she’d tell her to not to use this cab company again.
Despite his bone-deep tiredness, Jason shook with laughter.
‘Oops.’ He wrenched the wheel and they veered off the M4 onto the slip road towards the signs for M25 Gatwick and M25 Watford.
‘Nearly missed it,’ he said still chuckling to himself. How in hell’s name was this spoilt brat related in any way to Laurie? It wasn’t possible.
‘So,’ he snorted again, ‘where,’ another snigger, ‘where do you th-think Laurie lives? Not Slew obviously.’ He wheezed and started slapping the steering wheel trying to regain some equilibrium.
‘Leighton Buzzard.’ Siena folded her arms across her chest and stuck her chin in the air.
‘Good,’ he wheezed again, ‘because that’s where we’re headed. And it’s pronounced Slough as in bough.’
‘I think it’s very rude to laugh. How was I supposed to know that? If you were in France, I wouldn’t laugh at your pronunciation.’
He gave her a dry look. ‘But I’m not French. So why would you? You’re English.’
With a pout she folded her arms.
He gave her a closer look. She looked damn good, if you liked that sort of thing. A babe but too high maintenance. Skyscraper, Fifth Avenue, Mayfair type maintenance. He knew the type. Knew them well. Trust fund babies who expected the world to drop everything at their bidding. Incapable of doing anything for themselves. Been there, done that and he wasn’t going to be anyone’s gravy train again. Stacey, his ex, had boarded that ride and then left him the minute he chose a new route.
And yet, despite all his best intentions, here he was again, knight to the rescue. At six o’clock this morning he’d been in Glasgow. If anyone else had asked him to race to Heathrow he’d have told them where to stick it but he owed Laurie. She let him rent her house at a ridiculously low rate and as she was shacked up with one of his best
mates, she couldn’t be all bad. Cam had very high standards when it came to women.
‘So you thought you’d pop over to see your sister,’ he asked, still cross on Laurie’s behalf.
‘Yes. Fancied spending some time together.’ The cheery, shallow smile made him grit his teeth. He wasn’t about to enlighten her. Laurie had been quite specific in her instructions. If anyone from her family enquired, he wasn’t to mention she’d gone to live in the house she’d inherited from her Uncle Miles. Apparently her mother was very unhappy about the terms of the will. And Jason would not betray Laurie’s confidence … especially for his spoiled, snobby – and rather hot – passenger.
Chapter 2
When the noisy Land Rover finally drew to a stop, they could have been anywhere. It was pitch black and Siena only had Jason’s word for it that they had arrived at the correct destination.
Jason opened the door, and waited for her, his breath rising into the icy air in a plume of steam. She followed quickly. This was the house she’d grown up in. She lived here until she was six. They’d been a proper family here. A mum, a dad and two sisters. Nails digging in her palms she looked around. A narrow hallway opened up in front of them, with a beautiful wooden staircase leading upstairs.
Siena blinked as he flicked on lights and smiled at the sight of the natural oak spindles on the staircase, which had a striped runner lining the centre of each step with brass stair rods. A large mirror, framed in rustic oak, reflected the antique brass light in the centre of the ceiling. This was lovely and not at all how she’d pictured the house from her mother’s dismissive comments. She waited for a moment. Not a shred of recognition. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
‘Lounge. Kitchen.’ Jason nodded to closed doors on the right.
‘Your room is upstairs at the back. Bathroom in the middle.’
Siena blinked and picked up her bag, back ramrod straight as she held back the sudden inexplicable tears. They had no business here. She needed sleep. That was all. Today had been lots of things, none of which she wanted to tax her brain with at the moment. All she knew was that her eyelids felt heavy, her head felt heavy and her stupid heart heavier still. What had she been expecting? A sense of homecoming? If she didn’t get to bed now, she’d never make it up the stairs and she had to see her bedroom.
