Second Chance Lane (Brockenridge #2) - Nicola Marsh Page 0,96

Isla will be home in the morning and I have a feeling we won’t be able to recapture the closeness of tonight, so let’s make the most of it.’

He arched an eyebrow as she wriggled down the couch and slid to her feet. Holding out her hand to him, she waited. Surely one night of wild, wanton sex for old times’ sake wouldn’t be so bad?

When he placed his hand in hers, she had her answer.

She’d make tonight count.

CHAPTER

35

Jane worked alongside Mason for two days. Forty-eight excruciating hours when she channelled a professional persona and tried not to remember how it had felt having him curled up under a throw rug on her couch. The upside being she’d been so hell-bent on focussing on work that the bulk of the interior design was done. The shop had been in good nick and only needed a coat of paint, which the contractors did on the first day, and revamping the counter to include a glass display case. The rest of the work had been window dressing, her domain, and she’d thrown herself into it with gusto.

The wrought-iron tables and chairs in pristine white had been delivered and set up, and French movie posters hung in strategic places on the walls. She’d carried a pastel theme of mint and lemon throughout, lending the place a bright, airy feel. Once the stencilling had been done on the front glass and a sign hung, her part of the job would be complete.

The great thing about designing the interior was not bumping into Mason very often. He’d been supervising the kitchen revamp and had been on his phone for much of the week, contacting suppliers for new ovens and utensils. Betty had insisted she could get the best price from a local guy in Echuca but Mason had wanted to investigate for himself, so Betty had rolled her eyes at Jane and left him to it.

Jane stood back, surveying the room, proud of what she’d achieved. Once the electrician finished installing and wiring the new light fittings later today, she could take photos and update her website. She’d forgotten how satisfied doing a good job could make her feel. And with a little luck, when townsfolk saw what she’d done with this place they’d be more inclined to give her more work. Not that she could ever make a living out of interior design in a town this small but that wasn’t the point. She wanted to feel valued in a way she never had. Gladys had seen to that.

There’d been no more calls from her mother to Mason; or if there had been, he hadn’t told Jane. The thought of Gladys trying to sabotage this job before it had begun made her want to throw something. She had tolerated her mother’s shoddy behaviour too long, tried to shame her into having a conscience and it hadn’t worked. Which meant they needed to have the confrontation Jane had been putting off for a decade.

Not that it would change anything. She wasn’t that naïve. But saying what had to be said might go some way to soothing the disquiet within.

She’d wait until the patisserie opened then she’d arrange a meeting, for no other reason than she wanted to enjoy the happy occasion. Betty deserved all the success in the world and so did Mason. He’d given up a glam life, even if it mightn’t be for long, to return home and do this, and she wished him all the best.

Gathering her things, Jane’s breath hitched as Mason strode from the kitchen, barking orders into his mobile, before hanging up with a muttered, ‘Dickhead.’

When he caught sight of her his frown cleared. ‘You done for the day?’

‘Uh-huh. I’m done, period.’

He blinked and looked around, as if seeing it all for the first time. Crazy, because he’d been popping in and out and had given his approval for everything. But this was the first time he’d see the finished product of her labours and she yearned for his approval.

‘Wow.’ He stood in the middle of the patisserie and did a slow three-sixty. ‘It’s perfect.’

Heat flushed her cheeks at his praise. ‘I love how it turned out exactly as we envisioned.’

‘Don’t do that.’ He wiggled a finger at her. ‘This was mostly you. You had an idea, you presented it to me, we agreed and you did it.’

‘Thank you.’ Silly that she craved his praise so much but now she had it she burned with embarrassment. Then again, she