Everything You Want: Everything For You Trilogy 2 (19 page)

“Have you got sun protection on?”

“Loads.” I step over the threshold.

“You’ll need a sun hat too.”

I pause. Is he trying to change my mind? He won’t. But I’ve no intention of spending my last few hours here arguing with him either. “I forgot. Thanks. I’ll get one.” I turn back into the house and we glance at each other strangely as I pass. I spot my straw hat on the chair at the side of the living room where I abandoned it yesterday.

Jack is standing exactly where I left him, when I pass on my way back. I wave the hat in my hand to make it obvious I have it.

“It works better if you wear it,” he jokes.

I stuff it down over my face. I’m not irritated. I’m confused. I have no idea what’s going on here. I hesitate at the back door again expectantly, even before he speaks.

“I want to come.”

I do a double take at his words. My eyes widen in horror as I stare at him and he presses his lips together when my misinterpretation of his words dawns on him.

He paraphrases his request. “Would you mind if I accompany you on your walk?”

The penny drops. I thought he meant something else entirely. I fail to stop myself laughing and he rolls his eyes at me. It’s like we can read each other’s minds.

“I’d enjoy the company.” It’s entirely possible to make this simple for both of us, I think.

“I’ll bring water.” He grabs a large bottle from the fridge. He’s very over-protective.

I spot the 2CV sitting on the gravel drive. I’d really like a last ride in my favourite little car too. “Perhaps we could drive the car back down to the farm for the morning and walk back,” I suggest. “Then Madame will be able to drive up.”

“Great idea.” He opens the passenger door for me and I don’t argue about who drives. We bump over every pothole down the farm track. “I’ll get repairs done on this road,” he muses.

“You’re planning to keep the place then?”

He glances across at me. “Who else would want it?”

He’s being cryptic again. He must know by now how much I love Lassec. It’s my last connection to the past. To Harry. And now it’s my last connection to Jack too. It’s too sad to contemplate.

We leave the car behind the farmhouse with the keys in the ignition and stroll back through the empty fields.

I know he wants to talk about recent events. I can feel him leading up to it as he comments on the land and what we have growing in the fields, the weather and every unimportant little thing he can think of to say instead. The last time we confronted the newspaper story it led to a row and separation. I promise myself things will be different now. Leaving Lassec for the final time is not an occasion for squabbles.

I invite him to begin. “What happens next?” I ask.

“I didn’t sell you out, you know. Advance get a couple more weeks to familiarise themselves with my company. It prevents them alleging unfair advantages for CaidCo in the bid for the permanent contract.”

“Sounds fair. I’m not afraid of competition, you know.” I’m talking about more than an advertising contract here.

“I didn’t think you would be. You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met. Did I ever tell you I have high hopes for you, Miss Caid?”

“Once or twice.” I lift my chin to read his expression from beneath my floppy hat. “Does our deal still stand?” I want to know if I’m to continue being mentored so he can teach me to be a more efficient CEO, in return for the chance to bid for Zee-Com’s account or whether being a fake fiancée changes all that.

“Recent events have rather superseded previous arrangements.”

I screw up my face. “Does that mean no?” Why is he talking to me like we’re in a boardroom already?

He laughs. “It means no, Tabby.”

“But I’ll still get the chance to bid?”

“In a couple more weeks, CaidCo and Advance will go head to head and present their proposals to my management team. You’ll be ready.”

“What happens to our weekend deal?”

“I’ll still teach you anything you need to know.” He stops and looks at me gravely. “You just won’t run from me anymore.”

“And after the bid?”

He pauses for a beat then walks on. I catch up with him.

“Whatever the outcome, I won’t make any further personal conditions. We’ll have worked out a solution to the engagement by then. You’ll be a free woman and it’ll be like we never met.”

His words leave a sour taste in my mouth. It’s the ideal solution for him. He will have kept his word to me in business. He’ll be free to marry Amanda whenever he wishes. He’ll have no personal ties to me.

But what will I have?

Hopefully a lucrative business contract which will ensure the survival and success of my company. But no Lassec, no Jack and a wholly shattered heart. I have scant few weeks to change that. Can I make Jack forget Amanda and fall in love with me? One thing I’m certain of, none of the rest matters if I don’t have Jack’s love.

As we pass by the back fields we hear a lot of noise and spot some of the farm workers and their friends having a kick around with a ball. I look up at Jack with a clear plea in my expression. It may be my last chance to see them all.

He studies me for a moment. I don’t know if it’s the fact that I deferred to him over it but he softens and nods. He takes my hand and we walk over to meet them together. The guys whoop ‘hallo’ to us as we approach. They greet us and one by one kiss me on both cheeks and shake their new boss by the hand. Everyone is friendly and full of fun and Jack slowly thaws and relaxes around them which pleases me no end.

“
Alors
, you return to
Angleterre
tomorrow?” Laurent asks him. He’s the last to hold out his hand to Jack.

Jack pauses for a second and I hold my breath. I don’t know why but it’s important to me that these two like each other. Jack’s hand emerges and they shake warmly. Laurent shows the brilliant white of his teeth in his broad sun-tanned grin.

He leans in conspiratorially towards Jack in a mock whisper which I hear clearly, as I believe I’m meant to. “She is a leetle crazy sometimes, no? But I would not let any harm come to her.” Laurent waits for Jack’s acknowledgment.

Jack slaps him on the shoulder in forgiveness and I can breathe again.

“Can we play too?” I suggest, tapping at the ball under Laurent’s arm.

“You want play the football?” Laurent looks delighted.

“Can we?” I ask Jack, mindful of acknowledging his status over both them and me. It works magically to keep things cordial.

He stares at me as if Laurent might be right and I am a little crazy. “You know how to play football?”

“Sure.” I shrug. “These are the guys who taught me.”

“Game on,” he announces and several of them cheer. I feel so happy I could burst.

We divide roughly into two teams with Jack and me on opposing sides. We glare in mock challenge before someone gives a piercing whistle through their teeth for play to begin. It’s a free-for-all. No rules, no boundaries. Everyone rushes for the ball at once.

I’m aware they’re all very careful of me. No-one kicks out when I’m anywhere near the ball and I take complete and shameless advantage of it. Jack soon relaxes when he realises I’m not about to get hurt. I often get the ball but I seldom keep it for very long. Usually some mischief-maker decides to grab me round the waist and lift me bodily out of his team’s way. For a while I look apprehensively at Jack to see if he minds the hands-on contact but he accepts it in the spirit of fun in which it’s intended.

The sadder part of me knows the reason why.

Within half an hour I’m completely exhausted and have to go sit under a tree, glugging down a third of our litre of water in one go. I suffer cat-calls and comments about lack of stamina in good part. The guys play on for ages.

It’s a rare opportunity to watch Jack. He’s fit and athletic and although he makes his living in an office and not on the land, he gives these guys a run for their money. I cheer enthusiastically whenever he scores what counts for a goal in this knockabout game. My team jokingly accuse me of being a traitor, both for letting them be one man down and for supporting the opposition.

I gesture in a manner they understand and endure whistles and comments about
l’amour
as a result. I wonder just how much of their ripe and fruity farm French, Jack is able to follow. Not as much as me, I suspect. He frowns gently when I blush at some of the things they suggest Jack has done to guarantee such loyalty. It’s amazing I have any sensibilities left at all, growing up around such earthy males. Or perhaps it’s because of it.

Finally the game draws to a close. Jack is dusty, sweaty and exhausted but never looked sexier to me. The team members shake hands sportingly and congratulate one another. I drift back to say my final goodbyes.

Laurent goes off to pick up the ball, tossing it to one of the others and comes over to me last. Jack and he shake hands again.

“
Bon voyage, mon ami
.”

Jack wanders off to fetch the water bottle and downs plenty. He leaves me and Laurent to have our moment of farewell alone. I like to think it’s pretty decent of him knowing how he felt when he first arrived.

Laurent turns to me, takes me by the shoulders and looks earnestly into my eyes. “Take care of yourself, leetle sister.”

I understand exactly what Laurent is saying. He sees right through me with his inbred Gallic awareness of all things male to female. “I will. I’ll miss you, Laurent.”

“Passion is an envious beast,” he says bizarrely.

Laurent kisses me on one cheek then kisses me on the other. He winks at me, whispers something about prodding the sleeping tiger then stares across at Jack who is standing well apart. Laurent carefully, slowly and deliberately moves his head towards mine. He holds the back of my skull in his hand and dips me dramatically backwards over his arm, planting his mouth firmly over mine in what must look to Jack like a kiss of undying passion.

I’m horrified. I pull away and swing round to face Jack who is staring stony faced. Laurent laughs gleefully and runs off to catch up with the others. He raises his fist in triumphant farewell.

I creep back to Jack. “It’s devilment. He really is like a brother to me,” I whisper lamely. I could kick Laurent. He doesn’t know Jack like I do.

Jack doesn’t speak to me. He takes my arm, shoves my hat back on my head and marches me onwards. He strides out in silence towing me behind. The sun sinks rapidly in the sky as a rich orange glow covers everything in a rare beauty but I can’t enjoy any of it for feeling I’ve just spoilt something precious.

After ten minutes of the silent treatment I’ve had enough. I yank my arm from his grip, snatch the bottle of water from his hand, unscrew the cap and take a drink. I offer it to Jack who shakes his head. We go through the motions in silence. Perhaps I am crazy. I certainly seem to be deranged when I’m around Jack. I turn the rest of the water straight down my front, throwing the empty bottle to the ground.

Jack watches, stunned, as if he’s wondering what trick I could possibly perform next to astonishment him.

I decide to show him. Crossing my arms over, I clasp the hem of my dress and raise it over my head wriggling out of it, thrusting my naked breasts out as I do. His eyes travel slowly down my body, returning the opposite way even slower and I stand very still until he’s finished. I throw the garment after the bottle and walk on in only shoes and panties. Jack doesn’t move a muscle for a second.

“Don’t worry,” I murmur, like a flirt, over my naked shoulder. “He doesn’t want me any more than you do.” I walk on, exaggerating the sway of my hips. Desperate times call for desperate measures, I decide. I don’t know what it is about the Brittany air this time round but I’ve turned into a complete tease.

I hear Jack immediately behind me. He pulls me round and lifts me off the path into the seclusion of the trees, halting beneath the shade of a full-leaved chestnut.

His Arctic blues bore right through me. “I want you,” he growls. His mouth takes mine, trying to drive the memory of Laurent’s kiss away.

I think kissing Laurent is like cuddling a naughty kitten whereas kissing Jack is like taming a Bengal tiger. His growl rumbles through me driving me before him with wild abandon. I claw at his shirt, ripping it open as his hands cover my breasts and mould themselves around them. His touch is harsh and punishing and exactly what I need right now to dispel my frustration with him and me.

I run urgent fingers over his chest where his skin glows from the still heat of the dying sun and the exercise he’s taken. It’s damp to the touch and each swell and dip inflames me further. Using the tip of my tongue, I lift the beads of salty sweat from his skin. His strength against my gentleness, his hardness against my soft curves, his roughness against my sensitivity all work to fuel my desire. Soon, I’m tingling with raw need.

His scent envelops me. I can smell the primitive urge to mate.

I don’t care if he doesn’t love me. It’s enough that I love him. It’s enough that he wants my body like I want his. I leap at him and he catches me as I wrap my legs around his hips. His tongue plunders my hot mouth and I suck it inside until he crushes me against the trunk of the tree. The rough bark scours my flesh when I arch my pelvis into him.