Her stomach flipped. This gift, so mundane, so not her, had touched her because she had to acknowledge that Will wasn’t just having a joke at her expense. He wanted her to be safe, to fit in with this new world…his world.
No, don’t go there, she told herself. You’ll only crash and burn. As she went back into the living room, any thoughts of asking him to change them for a bigger size had been set aside.
“Perfect,” he exclaimed as she stood in the middle of the room, red-faced under his gaze.
“And you’re sure they fit?”
“Like I said—you look perfect,” and he jumped to his feet, indicating there was to be no debate on the matter. “Get your boots on. We’re going.”
* * *
A few minutes later, as they took the twisting Lakeland roads at alarming speed, she risked a glance at Will. He was wearing his wraparound sunglasses and driving along with one hand, the other resting casually on his thigh. If he hadn’t been wearing walking gear, he’d have looked every inch the clichéd seducer.
Emma wondered if he would really stick to his promise to keep things platonic. Surely, she said to herself, at some point today—or more likely tonight—he’d make a move on her. He had to. She didn’t know what she was going to do when he did, and worse, she wasn’t sure whether she wanted him to or not. Even the thought made her shift restlessly in her seat. She wanted his body, there was no denying that, but she also wanted to see if he could keep his word.
She fiddled with a button she hoped would open the electric windows.
“Comfortable?” asked Will, rapidly changing down the gears to negotiate a sharp hairpin bend. “I can turn up the air-conditioning if you want.”
Shaking her head, Emma tried to show a keener interest in the scenery. She flinched as they rattled over cattle grids and skimmed alarmingly close to dry stone walls. Finally, he stopped the Range Rover in a tiny pull off at the side of a track. For a moment, she half expected him to press a button, recline her seat, and jump her. Instead, he got out, hoisted the inevitable rucksack out of the boot, and pointed to a steep path up the hillside.
“Go on,” he said, seeing her hesitate. “It’s not far.”
It was a warm, still day as she trudged up the hillside beside him. This time, he hadn’t lied. It really wasn’t far, and suddenly, ascending a cleft between two crags, he halted, pausing while she caught up with him. Spread out on a small plateau below them was a miniature lake, still and inky blue, the perfect mirror image of the mountains upended in its glassy surface.
“Will this do for our picnic?” he asked.
The view took her breath away. “It’s beautiful.” Dark and beautiful, like you, she thought. Heaven knew what lay beneath the surface either.
Unpacking the rucksack, he brought out two plates and some cutlery, a bottle of champagne, and two fluted glasses. After spreading out a picnic rug on the grassy hillside, he proceeded to take out some smoked salmon, strawberries, and cream. A mayfly buzzed past her lips, and Emma realized her mouth must be hanging open in astonishment. She rapidly shut it.
“So this is essential equipment for a mountain rescue leader, is it?” she asked, smiling.
“Of course. On his day off, anyway. What can I tempt you with?” he asked mischievously. “Foie gras? Gravlax? Champagne?”
“All three,” she replied, watching him uncork the champagne with quiet efficiency. It took her back, over half a year now, to London and Jeremy. He always made a great show of opening any bottle. Half of it had usually ended up on her dress or the floor, but Will had managed not to spill a single drop. She shouldn’t have been surprised really, so why had her heart flipped as the cork had whispered out of the bottle?
She held the glass he handed her up to the light and indicated the bottle.
“Will, did you know this was Krug Champagne?”
He whistled. “No! You don’t say? Well, I thought it was a bit pricey for a bottle of plonk.” He was laughing at her, and she had to admit, she deserved it. “We may be a bit rough and ready up here, but we’re not complete heathens. I can read a label.” He took a sip from the glass. “And I like having the best. Nothing sinful about that, is there?”
Seeing the expense he’d gone to, Emma was reminded that he was, after all, a wealthy guy. She wondered again about his business and his plans for the hotel. She really knew very little about him, despite the fact that they’d shared some very intimate moments.
“Depends on who you use to get the best,” she replied.
“I think this conversation is heading in the wrong direction,” said Will evenly. “Now eat up. I’m not carrying this lot down with me. Strawberry?” he asked, offering her a basket.
Emma took the fruit from him, feeling his fingers against hers as she did so. She pulled out the green stalk, resolving to use this day as the chance to find out more about the real Will, if there was such a thing. Then she popped a berry into her mouth and bit into it, the blend of tart sweetness almost stinging her mouth. A trail of juice escaped her mouth, and feeling it slithering down her chin, she wiped it away with her finger and licked it clean.
When she looked up, she saw he was watching her.
“Another?”
“Better not.”
“Whatever you say.” He smiled, placing the basket back down on the ground.
She wondered if this was the moment he’d make his move and glanced at him as discreetly as she could. But he just sat there innocently, eating the rest of the strawberries, not even trying to tempt her again. When they’d finished the picnic and he’d demolished the strawberries, she leaned back against the grass and gazed out over the tarn, placing her hands behind her to steady herself.
Big mistake.
Her little finger made contact with his. Just a tiny brush, but it was enough to make her sit up again and hug her knees with her arms. The temptation to slip her hand under his was almost overwhelming. She knew it would be warm and strong and rough. Her breasts prickled, and she felt she simply couldn’t stand the tension between them any longer. Scrambling to her feet, she dusted the strands of grass from her new walking trousers.
“Can we go down to the tarn?” she asked, her throat dry and scratchy.
“If you’d like to,” he replied, stretching out his limbs before getting to his feet with casual ease.
“Does it have a name?”
“Not this one.” He smiled. “It’s too small. Come on. I’ll show you something.”
She followed him down the slope to the ragged oval of water nestling in the bowl of the hills. Her gaze took in the reeds growing at the edge and the white water lilies, clustered near the fringes, waxy and lush.
“Look at those,” he said, pointing to the lilies.
“Oh! I’ve never seen those growing wild, only in the park,” cried Emma, surprised at her own delight in something so simple. A sudden impulse struck her, and she picked up a pebble from the handkerchief-sized beach.
“We used to do this at the seaside, Steve and me,” she laughed, flinging it across the water. It skidded once and then sank silently below the surface.
“Who’s Steve?” asked Will casually.
“My brother. He’s three years older than me.”
“Ah. He lives in London, does he?”
“New Zealand, actually. I miss him. A webcam’s all very well but no substitute for the real thing.”
“Lucky Steve. North or South Island?”
“Wellington. Do you know it, then? Have you been?”
She watched him rake a hand through his thick, unruly hair.
“A few times. I spent six weeks there on business a couple of years ago,” he added wryly. “Well, it was part pleasure too. We organize adventure holidays for the business, and I went to develop some contacts. And yes, before you ask, I did go climbing—and rafting and bungee jumping.”
“You’d be surprised what you could do if you really set your mind to it.”
She caught her breath, desperately hoping he wouldn’t mention the rappelling. She was too ashamed to be reminded of that day, of needing to be rescued—of needing Will and of being humiliated. She risked a sideways glance at him, holding her breath for a moment.
“What does Steve do out there? Is he married?”
Emma’s shoulders sank in relief.
“Oh yes, and he’s got two children. He’s an accountant—very exciting. You know, when we were young, we used to go almost every year to Cornwall with Mum and Dad. Drove them mad, we did, scrapping like cat and dog.” She knew she was babbling now. Babbling and hunting on the shore of the tarn for another flat pebble. “Still, he did know how to skim a stone.” She sighed, watching another attempt sink into the tarn.
A sharp pang of something that felt like regret struck her without warning. “Looks like I’ve forgotten how.” She paused for a moment, watching the ripples on the surface. “Have you got any brothers or sisters, Will?”
“No. I’m one of a kind, you’ll doubtless be pleased to hear.”
“Did you mind? Being on your own, I mean?”
“Sometimes,” he replied and then added as his eyes rested on the distant mountains, “I wouldn’t like to have just one myself… What about you?”
She was crouching down now, examining stones for their skimmability. The midafternoon air was thick and still. Miles up in the sky, a distant airplane droned softly. She hoped he couldn’t hear her heart beating.
“I hadn’t really thought about it. I don’t know…definitely one. Maybe two…” She straightened up with a clutch of suitable stones cradled in her hands. “Maybe. One day.”
As she said it, something kicked inside. Two children? One day? Where had that come from? Being an auntie, even at a distance, was cool, but being a mum? Whew, that was scary. She was only twenty-eight, and there was no earthly reason why she should even be thinking about a family. Maybe, thought Emma, pretending to scour the shingle for stones, it was only Will asking so explicitly that had forced her to think whether she actually wanted kids at all.
She took a few paces to where the water was lapping at the pebbles and launched her stone. It didn’t even bounce once.
“Oh dear.” This wasn’t going very well. She tried another, which managed one and a half before disappearing, then dropped the pebbles onto the beach in disappointment.
“Try this one.” He was right beside her, taking her hand and placing a flat, glistening stone in her palm.
She gazed at it as if she’d never seen a piece of rock before.
“If you don’t mind me saying, you’d do better if you stand like this…”
He was right behind her now, one hand on her arm. The pebble was moist and smooth in her hand, a contrast with the heat of his touch.
“You hold it like this,” he said, curving her fingers around the stone. “And then you let go…”
He pulled back his wrist suddenly, sending the flat rock scudding out over the water. It skidded and bounced six times before disappearing beneath the surface.
“Wow, six!” she cried in delight.
“It’s just having the right technique.” Will smiled. “And the right stone.” She turned around to find him gazing down at her. “Isn’t it, Emma?”
His hands were holding her waist gently, and it would have been easy—so very easy—to stand on tiptoe and seek his mouth again, just as she had before. Yet he had pulled away from her then, left her empty and cold, and she wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice.
As she stepped back and he let his arms fall, she felt the disappointment physically as a tight knot in her stomach. She’d wanted so much to feel his arms around her. Wanted to taste him, let him lower her onto the grass and make love to her. To hear him say she wasn’t just another conquest, that she was special, that she really meant something to him…
Instead, he asked her a simple question—one she’d been dreading ever since he’d knocked on her door that morning.
“Emma, why are you here in Bannerdale?”
Relief flooded through her. She had her answer already prepared.
“I got offered a fantastic new opportunity.”
“Ah.” He nodded his head. “Of course. The job with the high-powered Lakeland tourist board. I can see how a top-ten London consultancy couldn’t compete with that.” Then he added, very softly, “I think I’ve just had the press release version. What about the truth?”
She should have been annoyed, insulted even, but she wasn’t. There had been no trace of sarcasm in his words. Just a feeling that he was getting far too close for comfort.
“I…I…made a mistake.”
“A mistake? What kind of mistake would drive an intelligent, successful woman all the way up here from London?”
She wiped the palms of her hands on her trousers. “I was…in a relationship with a man…”
A slight breeze had started rippling the surface of the tarn and distorting the perfect image of the mountains. She shivered.
“In a relationship with a man. That happens quite often, I believe, even in London…” He was smiling gently. “But it doesn’t necessarily have to be a mistake.”
“It is when he’s your biggest client and…” She hesitated. She had never discussed the gory details with anyone, not even with her friends, certainly not with her parents, though they knew what had happened. And here she was with a…she was going to say a stranger, but that would have been wrong. Completely wrong.
“And…” he encouraged.
“He’s also sleeping with your boss.”
“I can see how that would be awkward,” he acknowledged. “But it wasn’t your problem. It was hers—I assume it’s a her—and his. Anyway, who are these charmers?”
“She’s called Phaedra, and he was—is—Jeremy. He’s the marketing director for Viper. They make GPS systems for hikers. I expect you’ve got their stuff in your shops.”
“I have indeed…but maybe not for much longer.” He caught her expression of surprise and moved briskly on. “So your boss stole your boyfriend and then sacked you. Nice one. Sounds like rough justice to me. Come on, Emma. Let’s hear it all. You’ve started now.”
“I—I shouldn’t be telling you this…”
“Why not?”
“I feel silly. I expect I was a wimp and it served me right,” she ventured, not wanting to look at him.
“Somehow, I think not.”
“When Phaedra found out—about Jeremy and me moving in together, I got the slow torture treatment. Not one big thing, just a constant stream of snipes and nitpicking, but it wore me down. She found fault with everything I did, pushed me on to all the minor accounts, and took me off Jeremy’s business altogether. I thought she was just a bit jealous or maybe worried I’d tell him more than I should about how she was overcharging his company. But I never gave her any cause, and I really thought she’d get over it.”
It sounded pathetic. But the pain afterward hadn’t felt trivial. The loss of her job and the betrayal of the man she thought had cared for her had felt like the end of the world.
“But surely you told this Jeremy what your boss was up to?” demanded Will. “He must have supported you.”
Emma rested her eyes on the ground and shook her head. “I said I thought she was a bit jealous, but he said I was imagining it, that I was getting paranoid. And”—she lifted her eyes to Will’s face—“you know what? He was sleeping with her the whole time. Everything I told him was getting back to her and making things worse and worse. I lasted six months before I finally realized…” She took a deep breath.
“Why didn’t you take her to a tribunal, for God�
��s sake?” he cut in. “No one should have to suffer that. Why on earth did you let them do that to you?”
She flinched. Will sounded angry now, angry with someone, but she wasn’t sure who exactly. At the people who had caused her so much pain, or with her for being weak enough to let them do it?
“Because I loved him—it felt like I did anyway. And I was hurt and weak. Oh, I suppose I could have sued her for breach of contract. But who wants their love life argued over by strangers and splashed all over the papers? That’s not good for a PR exec, is it? You see, we were presenting a proposal for Jeremy’s new brand. Phaedra was humiliating me in front of him for not having the campaign finalized. Then…” Emma cursed herself as she felt her eyes stinging again. She absolutely did not want to cry in front of Will. “I—I thought he’d try to stand up for me, but he looked…just like a rabbit caught in the headlights, and that’s when I knew. I just knew. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place, wasn’t he? He had the two of us there, both waiting for him to take her side, and he did nothing. He was a—a…”
“Wanker?” asked Will innocently, making Emma want to hug him.
“I’m afraid ‘wanker’ is too good a word for him. He’d been getting off with me and Phaedra. I shouldn’t think he had much time for anything else. ‘Coward’ is more accurate, actually. When he didn’t defend me or even try and smooth things over, it all clicked in one moment just like that…”
Her voice trailed off. The tarn, the blue sky, the sound of birds and a distant plane, all that faded as Emma found herself back again in the boardroom at Rogue. She still remembered, suddenly, staring first at Jeremy, then at her boss. He had looked irritated and embarrassed. Phaedra had concern on her face and triumph in her eyes. She had laid her hand on Emma’s arm and mouthed, I’m so sorry, as if she’d had to break the news that someone had died.
Emma felt she had—inside.
“You see, when it came down to it, Jeremy was a complete coward. He knew on which side his bread was buttered, and he chose Phaedra.”
12 Men for Christmas Page 13
