It Was Only a Kiss - By Joss Wood Page 0,49

Angel and get her to do what needs to be done next door. Next?’

Jess pushed her bowl away and reached for an apple. ‘Want to come and work for me? I could use someone with your problem-solving abilities...’

Luke draped his arm over the back of his chair and sent her a long, slow, sexy smile. ‘Why don’t you come and work for me? I could use someone with your marketing skills on a permanent basis. Although we’d have to work on your independent, I-can-do-it, perfectionistic don’t-help-me attitude.’

Jess rested her chin on her fist. ‘Am I that bad?’

‘Not bad. Just challenging.’

‘Well, that was kind. My ex—exes—were a lot less complimentary.’ Frustration crossed Jess’s face. ‘I was often told that I was too controlling and overbearing.’

‘They sound like a bunch of—’

Jess saw Luke swallow down his rude epithet and look for a better word.

‘Morons.’

‘Initially they loved the fact that I was independent, then they hated it. They told me that they were into successful women, but moaned at the amount of time I needed to spend on my business. They loved me paying for stuff, but then told me that I flaunted my money in their faces.’

‘And that made you start questioning yourself. Why?’

‘When the romance wore off they didn’t like the reality of living with me.’

‘And, being a woman, you automatically think it’s something you did wrong. They obviously weren’t strong enough for you. And then there’s male pride. None of them were as successful as you and they felt threatened by you. C’mon, Jess, that’s basic psych. You know this.’

‘But it doesn’t matter who brings in more money. It’s not important,’ Jess protested.

‘To you, maybe not, but to a man...? Yes, it’s important! You’re quite a package, Sherwood, and you need a man who is strong enough, secure enough, to allow you to fly.’

Jess wanted to ask him whether he was that man, whether he would hand her a pair of wings and watch her soar. Jess made herself meet his eyes and saw the regret in them.

‘I’m not that man, Jess,’ Luke stated quietly. ‘Not because I don’t think I could handle you, but because I don’t want the complication of handling any woman.’

Jess forced herself to smile. ‘That’s okay, because didn’t we decide that it was better to keep this—us—simple?’

‘Yeah. But I still want to sleep with you.’

‘And that is what makes it complicated.’

Luke’s chair scraped across the wooden floor as he pushed it back. He walked around and put his hands on the table and her chair, to cage her in. He bent his head and his lips brushed against hers.

Jess lifted her hand to the side of his face. ‘Thanks for looking after me last night.’

Luke kissed her again. ‘You scared me stupid, coming back late and injured.’ He pulled her up and into his arms, resting his chin on top of her head. ‘Don’t do it again, okay? I don’t know if my heart can take it.’

* * *

Her family, in typical fashion, arrived earlier than expected, and Jess found herself opening the first of what promised to be many, many bottles of red wine at shortly after four that afternoon. Her extensive family was crowded into the main lounge of the manor house and was already settling in. Nick had made a fire, Chris was opening a packet of crisps and her two other brothers were sprawled out over the two leather couches. Anne and Heather, two of her sisters-in-law, had taken the kids for a walk, and her mother, grandmother, Clem and Kate were standing by the huge bay window, looking at the wonderful view of the mountains. Her father, bless him, was exploring the house and probably cataloguing the paintings.

‘Good grief, how long before I get a glass of wine?’ Grandma demanded, and Jess rolled her eyes.

‘Well, if your lazy grandsons would get off their butts and help me it would be a lot quicker,’ Jess grumbled.

John sat up. ‘Hand over the bottle and the corkscrew, Shrimp.’

Jess wrinkled her nose at their old nickname for her and walked over to Nick, her favourite brother, who was standing next to the fire.

His grey eyes were sombre when he caught her eye. ‘So, how bad was it?’

‘How bad was what?’

‘Your fall. You brushed it off with the folks, but you’re limping and your eyes are slightly glassy.’

‘I’m fine. Luke patched me up.’

‘Who is Luke?’ John asked as he handed her a glass of wine.

‘The guy I’m doing the campaign for. He owns St Sylve.’