It Was Only a Kiss

EIGHT



The next morning Jess pretended to be asleep when Luke silently slipped out of bed. Risking a peek, she saw the glorious back view of him as he headed for the en-suite bathroom.

So...no morning cuddle for her, obviously. Thank God.

Jess pushed herself up in the bed, pulled the sheets over her chest and leaned her head against the headboard. Damn, damn and—just for a change—damn again.

What the hell had she done?

Jess looked around the room and saw evidence of their crazy lust-filled night everywhere she looked. One of her leather boots was on top of the credenza. She couldn’t see the other one. Her pink bra dangled off the lampshade. Her T-shirt was...Jess frowned and peered off the end of the bed...nowhere to be seen. Where had it gone? Jess rewound and remembered that Luke had pulled it off in the hallway, shortly after he’d started stripping her as soon as he’d pulled her through the front door. Her jeans were on the stairs—along with his shirt, shoes and jersey.

Panties? There was no point in worrying about them. They were history since Luke hadn’t tried to take them off—he’d just ripped the thong apart and pulled it away.

Could anyone say ‘awesome sex’?

Could anyone say ‘big, huge, monstrous regret’?

Jess scrubbed her face with her hands. He’d been a fantastic lover: tender, demanding, controlled, sensual and generous in turn. He’d turned her to liquid fire, inside out and... And she couldn’t do it again.

It was simply too much of an amazingly good thing. And she wasn’t remotely in control of any of it. She couldn’t control her reaction to Luke’s touch. He just had to look at her with those eyes filled with passion and she was his for the taking—battling to control the situation, the way he made her feel...

And, damn it again, her cuddle hormone was beetling around her body, gleefully singing, ‘It could be a stylish marriage; he can afford a carriage’.

And all because she’d been idiot enough to sleep with him. Okay, not much sleeping had happened, but she was splitting hairs. She’d allowed those feelings of attachment a little piece of fertile soil to take root. She’d have to dig up the bed before they took a firm hold and—what was with the gardening metaphors? She didn’t even garden!

Jess dropped her head. Maybe this was more than sex, more than the scratching of a mutual itch... Because she now felt exposed, vulnerable, scared. So very out of control.

She couldn’t allow it to happen again. Sleeping with Luke was not an option. If she felt this unhinged mentally and emotionally after one night, she’d be a train wreck after a week or so. And probably fathoms deep in love with him. And, not insignificantly, she had no intention of being that girl who was hopelessly devoted to a guy who did not feel the same way.

‘You’re awake and your mental wheels are spinning.’

Look at her—all mussed and grumpy, hair a mess and those fabulous eyebrows drawn together in an ominous scowl. Luke thought that he’d never seen her looking lovelier...and less accessible.

‘Luke, I—’

Luke tucked in the end of the towel that rode low on his hips, walked over to the window and pulled apart the curtains. He didn’t need to hear her words to know what it was that she wanted to say. It was written in neon ink all over her face. Last night was a mistake...

‘We can’t do this again.’

It didn’t matter that he agreed with her. Her words still held all the sting of a powerful slap. Luke winced and placed his hands on the broad windowsill, looking out over his lands.

‘Okay.’

‘Is that all you’re going to say?’ Jess demanded, annoyance in every syllable.

Oh, now she wanted to discuss it? Why didn’t she just put his pecker in a wringer and be done with it? ‘You said we can’t do it again. I agreed. Did you expect me to argue with you? Force you? Beg you?’

‘No. I—I just thought that you might have an opinion...’

That it had been the best sex of his life? That he’d been mentally, emotionally blown away? That he could picture her in his bed when they were old and grey? That he knew that was impossible...?

Luke heard the rustle of bedclothes and looked over his shoulder to see Jess stalk—his mouth dried up—stark naked over to his cupboard and yank the doors open. She pulled a rugby jersey over her head and rolled the long sleeves up and over her hands. The hem of the garment skimmed her pretty knees and draped over her perfect breasts.

‘Well, then, I suppose there’s not much else to say,’ Jess stated as she plucked her bra from the lampshade.

She bent down, briefly flashing the top of her thighs, and when she stood up a scrap of black lace fabric dangled from her finger. Her thong—which he’d destroyed with a quick twist.

‘Except that you owe me a thong.’

* * *

Jess looked at Sbu and shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, there’s something missing.’

He was going to kill her, he really was, Luke thought as muted groans from the crew floated across the room. He caught a couple of eye-rolls from the other actors and knew exactly how they felt. They had a right to be frustrated, Luke thought. They’d been filming for the best part of the day: a mock Sunday lunch, drinking wine in front of the fire. She’d even had Luke playing chess with a father-like figure.

They were supposed to be showing him in a family/friends situation, but he knew that the entire day had been an absolute waste of everyone’s time. His especially, since he was the only one in the room who wasn’t being paid for his time.

‘Take a break, everyone,’ Jess said, and Luke walked out of the formal lounge of the manor house, where they’d been filming an after-dinner scene. Ducking into the empty study next door, he placed his hands on the back of a wingback chair and sucked in air. He knew that he was mostly responsible for the cock-up that was today. He hadn’t managed to deliver the goods. He was stiff and uncomfortable and, as Sbu had pointed out, he would come across on film as being irritated and annoyed.

Mostly because he was.

They wanted to show off his home, his heritage, filled with laughing, happy people, and Luke looking relaxed and at home. Except that he wasn’t. Luke walked up and down the Persian runner, its rich jewel tones perfectly complemented by the wooden floorboards. He wasn’t relaxed and feeling at home because this wasn’t his home. He might own it and be the last Savage, but he had no emotional connection to this house, the furniture, to the fact that his forefathers had walked these halls, to the long-ago Savage wife who had ordered this carpet.

He had the dysfunctional relationship with his father to thank for that.

It didn’t help that he and Jess were barely talking. When they did, they were stiff and uptight, tiptoeing around each other. It made him feel uncomfortable and uptight and...dammit...so lonely.

You’re feeling sorry for yourself, Savage. Suck it up. But acting out his childhood fantasy hurt like hell, and all that got him through was thinking of Jess and the night he’d spent in her arms. It had been a fantasy, perfection, emotionally and physically fulfilling. He’d found himself wanting to lose himself in her not only physically but mentally as well. He wanted to know her secret hopes, her biggest fears, her first memories.

Mercia, ex-wife and amateur psychologist, had once told him he had abandonment issues. Because his mother had left him and his father had never been available he wasn’t able to commit emotionally, to let anyone in, to be intimate. Until the other night that had been true, and the knowledge terrified him.

He couldn’t afford to feel emotionally connected to Jess...because if he did and she walked away he didn’t think his heart would recover.

No, it was better this way...it had to be better this way.

‘Luke?’

Luke lifted his head and saw Jess in the doorway, her eyebrows pulled together and her eyes radiating determination. She’d been a pain in the ass all day—demanding, precise, determined. Unbending and an utter control freak. ‘We’re ready for you. Sbu and I have rewritten the storyboard...’

He was done. There was no way he was going back in front of a camera and selling his perfect life. His father had done that all his life...acted affectionately towards him in company and treated him terribly when they were alone. He was done with it.

‘Not happening, Sherwood,’ Luke said in his most even tone—the one his friends recognised as deeply dangerous.

‘Luke—Sbu is costing me a bomb. He charges by the hour so I’m burning money here. Can we get on with it?’

Her snotty tone had his hackles lifting. ‘The cost of which will be passed to me, so don’t pull that on me! I’m calling it a day, Jess, leave it at that.’

Sparks flashed in Jess’s eyes. ‘What is wrong with you? I have a room full of actors and equipment and crew who are all waiting on you. Let’s just get it done.’

‘What is wrong with me? What is wrong with you?’ Luke’s voice lifted. ‘How could you do this to me, Jess? Is winning awards and making spectacular adverts more important to you than people’s feelings?’

‘What are you talking about?’ Jess demanded.

She genuinely didn’t know... Luke felt a knife embed itself in his chest. How could she, the woman he’d felt the closest emotional connection to ever, not realise how difficult this was for him? He walked past her and slammed the door closed.

‘Luke!’

‘This house! Playing happy families! It’s my worst freaking nightmare. Pretending that I had one is killing me!’ Luke roared. ‘This was my father’s office. Do you know how many times he took a belt to my backside in here?’

‘I thought—’

‘That corner where we were pretending to play chess? I caught him screwing my favourite au-pair there. She left the next day. I was seven and I thought that my world had come to an end.’

Jess covered her face with her hands. Luke stormed up to her and pulled them away. Tears brimmed in her eyes and they just made him angrier. He’d never told anybody this and he couldn’t stop.

‘The painting above the fireplace? Its frame is cracked at the corner. That’s because he threw a glass at me when I was fifteen. It bounced off my cheek, cracked it, then hit the frame and cracked that. Do you want me to go on?’

‘No! I’m sorry—I’m so sorry... I didn’t think.’

Luke stormed away from her. ‘I knew giving the contract to you was a mistake—I knew letting you back into my life was a mistake. I knew I was going to regret it.’

He heard Jess’s sob and felt that knife slice his heart apart. He turned and looked at her, and cursed when he saw that she was shaking like a leaf. He resisted the urge to pull her into his embrace, to comfort her with his touch, to stroke away those feelings of hurt, replace the loneliness and confusion with passion...

Was that what he wanted to do to her or was it what he wanted from her?

The only thing he was certain of was that shooting was done for the day. Luke placed his hands behind his head and lowered his voice. ‘Get rid of the crew, Jess, and leave me alone, okay?’

Jess nodded, turned and left. Luke, as he always had as a child, got out of his father’s study as quickly as he could.

* * *

She was a horrible, horrible person, Jess thought as she pounded down the dirt road away from St Sylve. How could she have got so caught up in her job, in the campaign, and not realised the impact it would have on Luke? He’d told her a little of his father, that he didn’t feel as if St Sylve was his home, but she’d been so bedazzled by the grandeur and beauty of the house and the furniture and the concept of St Sylve that she’d ignored and/or dismissed Luke’s feelings.

She remembered thinking when she’d put the storyboard together that if she got it right there would be another industry award in it for her. The setting was magical, the hero gorgeous, the story tugged at the heartstrings. At the very least it would sell a shedload of wine...

She was embarrassed, humiliated...disgusted with herself. Awards were not worth hurting Luke for. She was such a weasel.

Jess picked up her pace. She needed to run...run off this churning emotion, outrun her self-anger, the confusion, his words that were running on a never-ending loop in her head...

‘I knew letting you back into my life was a mistake...’

Jess ran blindly, not sure where she was going, barely aware that the light was fading, that black clouds were threatening a deluge and that she was in an unfamiliar part of St Sylve. The road was becoming more rocky but she pushed on, wanting the burn of her muscles, hoping for a rush of endorphins that would make her feel partly human and not a complete jerk. How could she fix this? She had to fix this... He was too important to her and she cared about him too much to brush this under the carpet.

She’d apologise, obviously, grovel if she needed to. She’d ask him if they could try to be friends again, make him realise that while she was occasionally thoughtless she wasn’t by nature cruel.

She had to fix this...she had to.

Jess yelled as her foot brushed over a rock in the road and she went sprawling. Putting her hands in front of her, she cried out as her palms skidded along the stones and time slowed down. She hit the deck and her knees connected with the hard ground. Then her right shin caught the sharp edge of a rock and she felt her skin split open and the warmth of blood on her leg.

It was probably no less than she deserved, Jess thought as she rolled onto her back, grabbed her burning leg and sobbed liked a child.

* * *

Where was she? Luke looked at his watch again. It was past six, fully dark, raining, and Jess still wasn’t home. He’d come back from the lands as she was leaving for a run and he’d watched her swift pace down the road. Still annoyed, he’d headed for his study and immediately immersed himself in work. When he’d surfaced, two hours later, he’d realised that the manor house was solidly dark—which meant that Jess still wasn’t home.

Luke’s stomach clenched as he yanked on his jacket. Which way had she gone? Where did he start looking? Grabbing a torch from a drawer and his car keys, Luke headed towards the kitchen door and jerked it open. As he stepped out he saw the shapes of his dogs running towards him, followed by a slow-moving Jess.

Pummelled by relief, he stood under the awning over the door and leaned into the doorframe. The rain was cold and hard and Jess looked like a bedraggled rat.

‘Where on earth have you been?’ he shouted over the whistling wind.

‘Got lost. Fell down,’ Jess replied, her words almost taken by the wind.

She was soaked through, Luke thought. Her sweatshirt and running shorts were dripping and her hair was pushed back from her face. As she came into the light he noticed that she had a smudge on her chin and that her shin was dark... Was that blood?

Luke, unconcerned that the rain was now belting down, walked over to her and crouched down in front of her. He winced as he noticed the rip in her shin, from which blood was rolling down her leg and soaking her socks and trainers. He cursed and knelt in front of her, lifted her leg. ‘Sweetheart, what the hell have you done to yourself?’

He could feel the fine tremors rippling through her leg and heard the quiet chatter of her teeth. He didn’t need to look at her to know that her face was white and her lips purple.

‘I tripped and fell over a rock.’

Luke cursed again as he scooped her up and headed for his house. He carried her easily and headed straight for the stairs. Thank God his floors were wood, he thought, glancing at the wound on her shin which was still pumping blood and dripping off the end of her now red trainer. Until he cleaned it up he wouldn’t know if it needed stitches or not. He hoped not. The storm sounded as if it was building up for another, even bigger session, and he’d hate to have to haul Jess to the doctor in this weather. With luck, he had a couple of butterfly bandages that might do the trick.

Walking through his bedroom, he avoided the cream rug and walked her into the bathroom, placed her on the seat of the toilet.

She lifted her hands and gestured to her body. ‘I’m so cold,’ she whispered.

Luke smoothed her hair back from her face and dropped a kiss on her forehead. ‘I’ll get you something warm. Sit tight.’

Aware of the powerful storm raging outside, Luke flipped on the bathroom heater as he left the room. He pulled a thin cashmere jersey from a shelf in the cupboard and, tossing it onto the built-in dresser, reached for the first-aid box he kept at the top of the cupboard. The one in his car was better, but he wasn’t risking the storm to get it.

Returning to the bathroom, he stripped off her wet clothes and dried her off. The pale green jersey did amazing things to her eyes, he thought as he tugged the garment over her soaked head, lifting her hair from under the jersey’s rounded neck. Grabbing a gym towel from the basket, he wrapped her head in it and tossed the ends over the top of her head. Jess immediately pushed the jersey between her legs and tucked it under her thighs, shaping it over her legs until it hit mid-thigh and restored her dignity.

‘Luke, I need to say something...’

Luke saw the misery in her eyes and knew that she was beating herself up for their earlier argument. God knew, he was. He’d totally lost it and he owed her an apology—but now wasn’t the right time. He started to touch her chin and realised that the smudge of dirt on her chin was another graze. His heart lurched again.

‘Let’s park that conversation for later, sweetheart. Right now I need to patch you up.’

Jess pushed her wet hair off her forehead. ‘I can do it. You don’t need to...’

Luke brushed his thumb over her cheek. ‘We both know that you are Superwoman, but let me do this for you, okay?’

‘Okay.’

He heard her sigh of relief as the natural fabric and the heat of the bathroom eased muscles clenched from the cold. The faint hint of colour in her cheeks assured him that she was rapidly warming up, so the hot drink could wait until he’d sorted her injuries out. He had to stanch the blood, and her other leg had a graze that wasn’t as serious but he imagined painful enough. Luke took her hands and opened her clenched fingers, wincing at the deep scrapes on the balls of each hand. Once the shock wore off she was going to be one sore lady.

Sitting on the cold tiles in front of her, he flipped the first-aid box open and lifted her foot onto his thigh. He patted her tense foot. ‘Relax, Jess.’

‘I’m not used to being looked after—especially by a man,’ Jess confessed. ‘My father was usually lost in his own world and he left my mother to mop up my tears, and my brothers generally told me to suck it up and stop whining.’

‘And your exes? Didn’t you ever get sick and need looking after?’ Luke asked as he swiped away the blood with a damp washcloth.

‘I never got sick and I was the one doing the looking after. I’m good at it,’ Jess gabbled.

He could see shock settling into her eyes. Letting her ramble on was a good way to keep her mind off the injury.

‘You’re good at it too.’

‘I am?’

‘You do stuff for me—stuff that I don’t ask you to. Even before we slept together you did things. You always made me coffee, you checked the tyre pressure on the wheels of my car. You reglued the heel on my shoe, worked out why my computer was slow.’

And it made her feel unhinged. It was interesting to realise that she wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of generosity. If she was giving then she was in control...she was calling the shots.

‘If you fall and hurt yourself I will mop you up,’ he replied in a mild voice. ‘I will check the tyres on your car if I think they are flat, because I don’t want you stranded on the side of the road trying to change a tyre yourself. I reglued your shoe because the heel snapped in the kitchen and the glue was two feet away. If you have a problem, I will try to fix it. It is in my nature—hell, it’s in every man’s nature.’ Luke flashed her a grin. ‘Stop trying to control everything in the known universe, my little control freak.’

‘I’m not a... Oh, hell—of course I am. Dammit, it’s sore! Can I cry?’

‘You can.’ Luke ran his hand up her calf in a gesture that was as reassuring as it was tender. He rinsed the cloth and wiped her knees.

‘Cotton wool would work better. You might not get the blood out of that cloth,’ Jess said as she brushed tears off her face.

Luke looked at the cloth and shrugged. ‘So? I don’t have cotton wool.’

‘I do. In the bathroom at the manor house.’

‘I’m not going to go look for it in a storm when this is working,’ Luke replied, and smothered his whistle when he saw the extent of her injury. He might just have to bandage it up and haul her to the doctor, storm or not. The cut was three inches long and deep. He could see something white and wasn’t sure if it was bone or not. Blood still bubbled to the surface.

‘Can I get some painkillers? Morphine? A general anaesthetic?’

‘Soon,’ Luke replied, distracted. The cut needed to be disinfected and closed, and the sooner the better. And sewn up...

‘We have a hard choice to make, darling. This needs stitches—’

‘No, it doesn’t! Shove a Band-Aid on it and be done.’

‘Jess, it needs stitches.’ Luke drew circles on her calf with his thumbs. ‘Now, I can either try to butterfly clip it closed, or we head to the doctor.’

They both looked towards the bathroom window and watched the rain hammer the pane. The wind had picked up speed and it whirled around the house.

‘Butterfly clip it,’ Jess told him, her jaw set.

Luke looked down and assessed the cut again. He could clip it closed. Then he’d haul her off to Dan in the morning, just to make sure. Mind made up, he patted her leg and reached for a bottle of peroxide. Past experience told him that this was the most painful part, and he decided that she might topple off the toilet when he disinfected the wound. Then he’d be sorting out head wounds and replacing a shower door. Maybe.

‘Get off there and sit on the floor in front of me,’ he ordered. Jess looked as if she was going to refuse, so he placed his hands on the outside of her thighs, under the jersey, and rubbed her smooth skin. ‘C’mon, Jess.’

‘Why?’

He kept rubbing and felt her soften beneath his hands. ‘Just trust me, okay?’

‘Close your eyes,’ she said.

He grinned. ‘Bit late, since I’ve already seen you naked.’

‘It’s not the same,’ she said tartly, sinking to the floor in a move that was as graceful as it was discreet and quick. ‘Damn, these tiles are cold.’

Luke averted his eyes as she rearranged the jersey again, covering up and lifting her bottom so that she sat on the jersey and not directly on the tiles. When she’d settled down, he deliberately looked towards the window and cocked his head. Her interest caught, she followed his gaze—and he swiftly poured the peroxide into the cut and winced at her piercing, pain-saturated shriek.

He could hear curses in her screams and the occasional moan interspersing her sobs. Steeling himself, he tipped the bottle over the wound again and grabbed her hands when she attempted to wipe the peroxide away.

‘You sneaky son of a—’ she hissed when she found her breath, tears rolling freely down her face.

Taking a swab from the box, he doused it with peroxide and swiped it over the abrasion on her other leg. Grabbing the hand that flew out to hit him, he flipped it over and ran the swab over that graze. Her towel fell off her head and her toes curled in pain. Feeling like an absolute toad, he steeled himself against her weeping and asked her for her other hand, which she’d tucked behind her back. Jess used the top of her cleaned hand to wipe away tears and violently shook her head.

‘Last one, darling, and we’re done.’

Jess just sobbed.

‘I know it’s sore, but you need to give me your hand,’ Luke told her, sighing when she held out her hand and tipped her head back to look at the ceiling. Luke added more peroxide to the swab and cleaned the wound. ‘And your chin.’

Jess lifted up her chin and he dabbed it with another swab. ‘Done, sweetheart.’ Luke blew on her chin, dropped the swab and cupped her face in both of his hands before dropping a kiss on her nose. ‘Brave girl. You okay?’

‘No,’ Jess muttered through her snuffles.

Taking the towel that had fallen off her head, he used the corner to mop her tears up before dropping another kiss on her forehead.

Luke sat back and pulled her foot towards him. Starting in the middle, he pinched the skin together and started taping the wound together. Working swiftly, he spared a glance at Jess’s white face and told her to hold on. He wrapped a bandage over the clips and, leaving the swabs and rubbish on the bathroom floor, stood up and helped Jess to her feet. Steadying her with a hand on her shoulder, he waited until he was sure her dizziness had passed and then asked her to put her weight on the injured leg.

‘Can you feel the tapes pulling?’

Jess shook her head. ‘It feels tight, but okay.’

Luke lifted her up and manoeuvred his way through the dressing-room passage and lowered her onto his bed. Scrabbling in the bedside drawer, he pulled out a bottle of painkillers, handed her two and nodded to the glass of water on top of the table.

Jess looked at the pills in her hand. ‘I hate pills, but I’ll make an exception tonight.’ Jess tossed the pills into her mouth, taking the glass of water he held out.

Luke sat on the side of the bed next to her and brushed her hair away from her eyes. ‘So, what do you think we should do for the rest of the evening? Watch TV? Play chess? Have wild monkey sex?’

Jess managed a small grin at his joke. Then she yawned. ‘I’m feeling so tired.’

‘The adrenalin is wearing off. Take a nap,’ Luke suggested as he stood up. ‘Call me if you need anything.’

‘Thanks.’ He was nearly at the door when he heard Jess’s soft voice calling him back. He walked to the bed and looked down at her, soft and small and sad.

‘I can’t let you go without saying sorry. I was selfish and inconsiderate...I’m so sorry. It was so wrong of me.’

Luke shoved his hand into his hair. ‘And I said a lot of things I shouldn’t have. Around you, stuff seems to float to the surface.’

Jess dropped her eyes. ‘Sorry. Again. I’m just really sad that you regret meeting me again. I never meant to turn your world upside down.’

Luke placed his hands on either side of her and caged her in. ‘Yes, you did. It’s what you do—who you are. And you know that was the one thing I didn’t mean—the one statement that was totally untrue. I don’t for one minute regret anything to do with you.’

Jess looked up at him with enormous eyes. ‘So are we friends again?’

Luke placed a soft but determined kiss on her open mouth before lifting his head. ‘Probably not, but we sure are something. Get some sleep, sweetheart.’