It Was Only a Kiss

TEN



Jess stood at the kitchen sink in the manor house, washing dishes and watching Luke, Owen and Kendall taking her brothers on at touch rugby on the swathe of lawn just beyond the window. Luke looked happy, Jess thought. He was dirty and sweaty, but laughing at the creative insults her brothers traded on a regular basis.

Jess felt a feminine hand on her back and smiled at Clem. ‘Hi.’

‘Hi, back. Why are you hiding out in the kitchen?’

Jess lifted one shoulder. ‘I needed a break.’ She looked at Nick’s partner and said a quiet thank-you to Nick for bringing such a wonderful woman into their family, her life. She adored her sisters-in-law but, despite not knowing Clem for very long, felt closest to the ex-model and socialite.

‘Are you okay, Jess?’

Jess pushed her hair off her forehead with the back of her wrist and shrugged. ‘Yes...no...confused.’

‘Luke?’

‘Who else?’ Jess looked out of the window. ‘He’s got baggage, Clem...’

‘Don’t we all, sweetie? You have a frequently impossible family and a strong independent streak. I had no idea who I was or what I wanted before I met Nick. I was the ultimate spoilt princess.’ Clem leaned her bottom against the counter next to Jess and crossed her long, slim legs. ‘None of us is perfect, Jess-jess.’

‘And he doesn’t want a relationship. What did he say to me...? He doesn’t want to have to “handle” any woman.’

‘Ouch. And do you want a relationship with him?’

‘Kind of.’ Jess gave Clem a rueful smile. ‘I’ve fallen in love with him. When Luke stood up for me to my brothers last night I knew that he was the man for me.’

‘Yeah, I realised that too. He’s strong enough, secure enough, smart enough—perfect for you.’

Clem just got it. Jess didn’t need to explain that she felt Luke was the flipside of her coin. Strong enough to lean on, masculine enough for her to enjoy, even flaunt her femininity, with enough tenderness to balance out his machismo.

This was what love felt like, Jess realised. Like a multi-layered, delightful cake, each layer rewarding in its own right. Attraction that ignited a low hum in her womb whenever he looked at her, a touch that chased sexual shivers up her spine, a dry sense of humour and a sneaky intelligence that kept her off guard.

He was her perfect fit—except...

‘Except he isn’t interested. Not in permanence, commitment, marriage or any possible combination or permutation of the above.’ Wasn’t it just so typical that when she finally found someone she was prepared to fall in love with he was unavailable and uninterested?

Clem rubbed her shoulder with her hand in a gesture that was as sweet as it was comforting. Jess told Clem about the disastrous shoot earlier in the week and her part in it.

‘I really wanted a family scene, but I can’t—won’t—put Luke through that again.’

Clem looked at her for a long minute, held up a finger and walked away. Within a couple of minutes she was back, a hand-held camcorder in her hand. Clem nodded to the window and handed Jess the camcorder. ‘There’s your family scene, Jess. Film it.’

Jess looked out and saw what Clem was getting at. There were the Sherwood wives—gorgeous and relaxed, wine glasses in hand, talking furiously—sitting on a patch of grass to the side of the mock rugby pitch. Jess lifted the camera and zoomed in, then tracked the outline of the manor house onto the veranda, where her father sat in an easy chair, a sketchpad and John’s three-year-old on his lap, directing his hand as he drew. Liza had a sleeping baby in her arms and was watching the rugby.

Jess panned the camera over the table between them: St Sylve wine bottles and half-filled glasses, an open book lying face-down, a baby’s pacifier, a colouring book and crayons, a half-empty bowl of the apple crumble they’d had for pudding...

Jess went to Luke, hands on his thighs, his face turned away. He looked happy, she thought, relaxed—as she’d wanted to catch him the other day. Enjoying himself, having fun.

Jess carried on filming and her mouth curved into a delighted smile. ‘You, Clem Campbell, are a genius.’

Clem looked at her nails and smiled. ‘I know, but feel free to remind Nick.’

* * *

Luke followed the massive Sherwood clan to their hired cars and hung back as Jess kissed and hugged her family goodbye. The days had passed quickly, and Luke realised that he’d had more fun than he’d had in ages with her family. He hadn’t had much time to himself or with Jess, and neither of them had got any work done, but he was okay with that. He felt as if he’d had a mini-holiday without leaving his house.

He’d taken them all over the farm, explained the wine-making process to her father and brothers, discussed the history of the property with Jess’s mother and grandmother. He’d exercised with her brothers in the gym, been sketched by her father, taken the kids for rides on his dirt bike and tractor.

And now he was being thanked and hugged and kissed. Luke bent down so that Jess’s tiny grandmother could kiss him goodbye, and then turned to shake her father’s hand.

‘Thank you for your hospitality, Luke,’ David said. ‘Look after my girl.’

‘It’s not like that...’ Luke replied, feeling a cord tighten around his neck.

David’s warm brown eyes laughed at him. ‘Yeah, right.’

Liz elbowed her husband out of the way and tucked a piece of paper into Luke’s shirt pocket and patted it. ‘The name of your aunt and her address. I have an old university friend who had the details. Go talk to her.’

Uh, no. Thank you anyway.

‘Take care of my baby.’ Liza kissed him on one cheek and then the other.

The cord tightened. He had a break when the wives kissed and hugged him, and then there were the brothers, standing in one solid line, identical scowls on their faces. He looked around for Jess but she’d run back into the house to fetch a book her grandmother had left behind.

John pulled out a folded piece of paper from his back pocket and slowly opened it. ‘As the oldest, it behooves me−’

‘Behooves?’ Patrick snorted.

‘Shut up, squirt. It behooves me to establish whether you are worthy of Jess.’

Luke rolled his eyes. Really? Were they really going to pull this?

‘Super 14 Rugby. Who do you support?’

‘Really? This is what is important?’ Luke felt insulted on Jess’s behalf.

John ploughed on. ‘Man United or Chelsea?’

‘Liverpool,’ Luke replied, just to be facetious.

‘Do you drink and drive?’

No.

‘Are you an aggressive drunk?’

No again.

‘Do you cook?’

Yes, thank God, since Jess had the cooking skills of a tortoise.

‘Do you understand the African tradition of lobola?’

Huh? What?

Luke frowned and Nick grinned. ‘You know—paying the family for the honour of their daughter’s hand in marriage?’

He looked across at David, who just smiled and shrugged. ‘They negotiate for me.’

Luke folded his arms and kept quiet, scowling fiercely. Good God, what had he done so wrong in his life, or in a previous life, that warranted this?

‘We want fifteen cases of that outstanding Merlot 2005, use of the manor house for family holidays, and Dad wants a breeding pair of silky bantam chickens,’ John explained.

Luke threw up his hands. ‘Chickens? You’ve got to be kidding me!’

‘I wanted goats, but Liza put her foot down,’ David replied.

‘Good grief,’ Luke said faintly, and rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Listen, I hope this is your sick idea of a joke, because this is the most absurd conversation. I am not—we are not—talking or thinking about marriage. I don’t want to get married!’

Chris grinned. ‘None of us did, dude! But here we all are...’

Jess darted out of the house, book in hand, and immediately, Luke noticed, her brothers feigned innocence.

John gripped his hand and squeezed. Hard. ‘You hurt her, you answer to us.’

Luke wished he could brush off his words as chest-thumping, but he knew they were deadly serious. If he messed Jess around he would be fish food. He shook Chris’s and Patrick’s hands, lost the feeling in his fingers again and resisted the impulse to nurse it before turning to Nick.

He scowled at Jess’s favourite brother. ‘Yeah, yeah...I get it. Don’t mess with Jess.’

Nick shook his head and put his arm around Clem’s waist. ‘I was just going to wish you luck. You’re going to need it, dealing with that brat.’

‘Thank you,’ Luke replied fervently. At least someone was on his side.

Nick slapped him on the shoulder before shaking—squeezing, ow, dammit!—his hand. ‘But she sheds one tear over you and I’ll stake you to an anthill.’

Nice, Luke thought.

He watched the cars disappear down the drive and looked at Jess, whose eyes were fixed on the backs of the vehicles. He caught the expression crossing her face as she jammed her hands into the front pockets of her jeans and watched them leave...a little sadness, a little relief. She was a strong, independent woman, but her family were her rock, he realised, her north star, the wind that helped her fly. While they occasionally irritated and frustrated her, she adored them, and she also missed them...

Being here, with him, at St Sylve, deprived her of them. It was just another reason in a long list of reasons why they could never be together long-term. She needed that family atmosphere and he couldn’t—wouldn’t—provide it for her.

Besides, even if they wanted to continue their...whatever it was, how would it work? Practically? Logistically? His life was here on St Sylve. Hers was across the country. She had a successful business based in another city—one that she’d sweated blood and tears to establish. He couldn’t imagine giving up St Sylve, so he knew that to ask her to give up Jess Sherwood Concepts would be deeply unfair.

What was he going to do about her? He’d never intended to become involved with a woman again, but Jess, being Jess, had become more than a fling, more than a quick and casual affair. He couldn’t allow himself to get any more attached to her than he already was. It would be easier to have open-heart surgery without anaesthetic than to risk loving someone and having them leave him.

Luke felt the sour taste of panic in the back of his throat and pulled at his shirt collar. He’d been living in a dream world these past few days and it was time to snap out of it. He’d been seduced—literally and metaphorically—by the woman in his bed and her family in the manor house.

It wasn’t real and it sure wasn’t permanent.

Nothing ever was.

* * *

‘So, how is Luke?’

Jess sat at a small wooden table at a restaurant in Lambert’s Bay, a cup of coffee in front of her, waiting to meet Luke’s cousin. She was talking to Clem, all the way across the country at their safari operation, Two-B.

‘Distant, irritable, moody and snappy.’

‘Oh. Um...that’s not what I expected to hear. I thought you would be burning up the sheets.’

‘We are,’ Jess replied. ‘We’re just not talking in between. We both know that I should be packing to leave but neither of us are mentioning it.’

When he was making love to her he was anything but broody and snappy. Passionate, loving, attentive, tender. His body worshipped hers...

‘Have you asked him about it?’

‘Mmm, a couple of times. Yesterday I asked why he was being so aloof, far-away...uncommunicative, and was told that he has a lot of his mind. That he’s working on a couple of difficult deals and he’s tired.’

Clem was silent for a moment. ‘Is he back-pedalling?’

Jess rested her forehead on her fist and nodded, then realised that Clem couldn’t see her.

‘I think that’s part of it. I also think he’s thinking about his mum a lot. I think it’s natural after being confronted with our family.’

She really believed that. When she’d caught Luke staring at the photograph of his mum this morning all the pieces had fallen into place. Spending so much time with her family, seeing how close they were, had to make him wonder about his own family—about the fact that he had an aunt. He would be wondering whether he had cousins, other family members he’d never met. So she’d raised the subject of Luke tracking down his aunt again and he’d brushed her off. She realised that his reaction was a combination of fear and bravado, and understood that he was anxious. Who wouldn’t be? But he wasn’t uninterested so that was why...

‘I’m in Lambert’s Bay, about to meet his cousin,’ Jess said. She’d found the slip of paper her mum had given Luke, dialled the number of the cottage and spoken to Luke’s cousin. Luke’s aunt had died a couple of years ago, she’d explained, but she’d grown up with the tragic tale of Katelyn and would be happy to share the story with Jess—especially if she was living with Luke. Well, it wasn’t a lie...she was living with Luke. She just hadn’t felt the need to tell her that it was a temporary arrangement.

‘Does he know?’

‘No.’

‘Do you think that’s wise?’

‘It’s my gift to him, Clem. Knowledge about his past, his mother.’

It was her way to show him how much she loved him, that she would love to make a family with him, to invite him to share hers. Like her brothers, she wanted to love and be loved, to create her own family within a bigger one.

‘I want a man who loves me like Nick loves you—like Dad still loves my mum.’

‘Oh, sweetie, I hear you. But I’m not sure if this is the right way to go about it,’ Clem said. ‘Changing the subject—how did the family advert turn out?’

‘Sbu and I did the final edit on it this afternoon. It’s wonderful—funny, warm and very accessible. Everything I wanted it to be. I just need to show it to Luke and get his approval to flight the ad and we’re done, business-wise.’

‘Meaning that you should be heading home?’

Jess felt her stomach sink. She didn’t want to leave him—didn’t want to go back to her empty life in Sandton. She wanted to stay at St Sylve... She had thought this through: if Luke asked her to stay she’d open another branch of Jess Sherwood Concepts in Cape Town, leaving Ally to run the Sandton branch.

She could have a remote office at St Sylve...what was the point of wonderful technology like video conferencing and e-mail if one didn’t use it?

She’d miss her family, but being with Luke was non-negotiable.

‘I don’t know how I am going to leave him, Clem. If he doesn’t ask me to stay it’s going to break my heart...’

Jess looked up as the door to the coffee shop chimed and a tall woman her own age walked through the door. The first of Luke’s family...she couldn’t wait to meet the rest.

‘I’ve got to go, Clemmie. Love you.’

‘Love you too. Call me if you need me.’

* * *

Good news, good news—she couldn’t wait to tell Luke. As she’d suspected, he had the very wrong end of the stick.

Jess flexed her hands on the wheel and eased up on the accelerator. As eager as she was to get home, she couldn’t risk speeding along these windy roads, slick with incessant rain. The skies had opened up just as she’d left Lambert’s Bay and the rain had followed her all the way to Paarl, and it obviously had no intention of stopping any time soon.

Jess drove her SUV through St Sylve’s imposing gates and noticed that a dark green Mercedes Benz was parked outside Luke’s front door. She wrinkled her nose. Luke had said that he’d be in meetings most of the day, and she hoped that his appointments hadn’t run over and that he’d be finished at a reasonable time.

She had plans for him this evening...

Jess grabbed the envelope and CD that lay on the passenger seat, tucked them into the folds of the newspaper she’d bought earlier and, deciding that her bag and files could wait, ducked out of the car and sprinted as best she could in her high-heeled boots. The door opened as she grabbed the handle and she stumbled into Luke’s hard chest.

‘Jess!’

Jess dropped the newspaper and on a laugh flung her arms around his neck and planted her mouth on his. ‘Oh, it’s so good to see you. I’ve missed you so much.’

He grinned down at her. ‘I saw you this morning, but that is nice to hear.’

Jess laughed into his bemused face, then caught a movement on the stairs. Her blood turned to ice as she saw Kelly drifting down the stairs, barefoot and wearing only Luke’s favourite rugby jersey—her favourite rugby jersey. Jess dropped her hands and stepped back. Kelly’s hair was tangled and her make-up was smudged. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to work out that at some point in the afternoon Luke had removed Kelly’s clothes. As for anything more than that—she couldn’t go there... Jess felt as if someone had shoved a red-hot poker in her stomach.

Luke followed her horrified stare and his muttered oath barely penetrated the roaring in her head. ‘You’ve got to be kidding me!’

Then the red mist cleared from her mind and she shook her head. This is Luke, she told herself, the man who says he doesn’t cheat, ever. He wouldn’t do that to her. She trusted him.

Seeing Luke’s thunderous glare, directed right at her, she knew she had to rescue the situation as quickly as she could. So she took a step forward and met Kelly at the bottom of the stairs.

‘Hi—it’s Kelly, isn’t it? Did you get caught in the storm?’

Kelly, who’d been looking rather nervous, sent her a smile. ‘I did. I was here to buy some wine. Luke, Owen and I were walking back from the cellar and we got caught in the rain.’

‘Hey, Jess!’

Owen’s voice drifted from the lounge and Jess briefly closed her eyes. Thank God she’d hadn’t gone nuts and accused Luke of cheating...

‘Luke lent me a pair of your running shorts. I hope you don’t mind.’ Kelly lifted up the edge of the rugby shirt and Jess saw her own shorts.

She told Kelly she didn’t mind at all and watched as Kelly walked back into the lounge.

Jess started to follow her, but Luke’s hand on her arm kept her in place. ‘You thought that I slept with Kelly,’ he hissed.

She thought about denying it but Luke would see right through her. She met his hard eyes and sighed. He was ticked...and he had a right to be. An apology was needed. Why did she keep putting herself in these positions?

She held up her hands. ‘Habit reaction...’ His expression didn’t change and she sighed. ‘Come on, Luke. I reacted, I realised I was wrong and then I tried to correct it. I’m sorry I doubted you but it really was for only a second.’

Luke narrowed his eyes at her. ‘Don’t do it again.’

Oh, well, this wasn’t the way she’d thought this evening was going to go. Jess sent him an uncertain look before realising that she still had the envelope in her hands. ‘Listen, I have news!’

Luke lifted his eyebrows. ‘You look like you’ve had an interesting day.’

‘I’ve had a great day,’ Jess said as they walked into the lounge. ‘I spent the day with Sbu. We finished the edit on the last advert.’

Luke frowned. ‘What advert? I thought there wasn’t anything you could use from the last shoot.’

‘There wasn’t, but I came up with something else.’ Jess pulled the disc from inside the newspaper and waved it. ‘Do you want to see it?’

Luke shrugged. ‘Sure. What’s in the envelope?’

Jess looked over at Owen and Kelly and thought that it wasn’t something she wanted to discuss with an audience.

‘I’ll tell you later.’ Jess walked over to the DVD player and inserted the disc. Flipping on the plasma screen, Jess walked back to stand next to Luke. ‘I think you’ll like this.’

* * *

He loved it.

He hated it.

He looked happy, he thought, jamming his hands into the pockets of his jeans, and he had been. It had been one of the nicest, most relaxed afternoons he could ever remember. The entire weekend had been a revelation; he’d laughed and kicked back, swallowed up by the warmth of the Sherwood clan. He wished that he could bank on the fact that there would be more of that type of family weekend, but that brought him back to the issue of permanence and commitment.

He’d noticed Jess and Clem filming that afternoon and into the evening, had thought it was just a video for the family archives. Jess had turned the footage into something special: gorgeous people in a gorgeous setting. It was an inspired move, Luke thought.

On film, Jess had captured all his hopes and dreams. There was John’s son, Kelby, filthy dirty from digging up worms in an empty flowerbed, and Clem, lying back on her elbows, relaxed and gorgeous in the late-afternoon sun. Him and her brothers, sitting on the lawn, trading insults and getting to know each other.

Then the last frames of the film appeared on screen. Someone had picked up the video camera and filmed Jess walking towards him on the lawn, wrapping her arms around his neck and boosting herself up his body to laugh down into his face. Love and delight radiated from her. Everything she felt about him was written on her face. She was in love with him.

He didn’t need her to tell him. It was there on the screen in front of him. Luke held his throat as he felt it tighten. He hadn’t wanted this—hadn’t asked for it. He didn’t know what to do with this knowledge, her love, where to put it, how to act.

‘So, what do you think?’

Luke eventually realised that Jess was talking to him and couldn’t find the words he wanted to say. He didn’t know what he wanted to say.

‘Luke, do you like it?’ Jess asked again, and he heard her insecure laugh. ‘I kind of need an answer or else we go back to square one.’

‘I think it’s wonderful,’ Kelly said with a quaver in her voice.

‘Superb, Jess,’ Owen agreed.

Luke licked his lips and looked from Jess to the TV screen and back again. ‘I’ll think about it. I’ve got to go.’

Luke hurried out of the room and pounded up the stairs to his room. Dragging off his damp jersey—he hadn’t had time to change between Jess’s arrival and getting Kelly sorted out with dry clothes—he shucked his wet boots and jeans and changed into a pair of track pants and a sweatshirt.

Warmer, he sat down on his bed and looked at his hands. He had to decide what he was going to do about Jess. The campaign was complete and she needed to get back to Sandton—to her business, her family, her life. Leaving him alone at St Sylve.

He didn’t think he could bear it. He didn’t want to be alone, but how could he ask her to stay? He wanted her at St Sylve, wanted to see her face first thing in the morning and last thing at night. But he had no right to ask her to give up her life, her business, her home, when he wasn’t prepared to take their relationship any further.

He was terrified of marriage. It felt as if a noose was tightening around his neck every time he even considered the concept. Jess couldn’t—shouldn’t—give up her life for anything less than a solid, watertight commitment.

Six weeks ago he’d had a peaceful life: a mutually satisfying sexual relationship with a nice woman, good friends for company, work to keep him busy. A normal, busy life without a complicated woman in his bed—in his head. He’d come to terms with his childhood, made peace with his failed marriage, put his relationship with his father into perspective.

Then Jess had skidded back into his life and spun it upside down.

Sex was no longer just about sex. He’d lost his family but he’d been slapped in the face with hers. He was about to have his longest dream aired on national TV. And she was in love with him. He hadn’t asked for this—any of it. Why did he have to deal with all this? It was...overwhelming, distracting, too damn much!

He felt as if he’d fallen into a vortex of information and was being sucked down...sucked dry.

‘Luke?’

Luke looked up and saw Jess in the doorway, her hand resting on the doorframe. God, what now? Could he not just have five damned minutes on his own?

‘Can I come in?’

It irritated him that she felt the need to ask. This had been as much her room as his over the past week. He nodded and she walked over to him, that yellow envelope still in her hand. She sat down next to him and he could see the shimmer of raindrops in her hair.

‘I’m sorry you didn’t like the advert.’

Honesty forced him to answer truthfully. ‘I loved the advert. It was just a...surprise.’

Jess shoved a shaky hand into her hair and tapped the envelope on her knee. ‘I brought you a present. I hope you like it.’

Luke took the envelope off her lap, lifted the flap and pulled out a wad of papers. Placing them on the bed next to him, he flipped through the documents and quickly realised that the papers related to his mother and his childhood. His past... Jess had been delving into it. A core-deep slow burn started in his stomach and an icy hand clutched his heart. She had no right to interfere.

That’s not true. He heard the small voice in the back of his head. You’re angry and miserable and maybe looking for a fight. Looking for an excuse to push her out of your head. In the space of an hour she’s pushed every button you have...

‘Your mother didn’t leave you. She was coming back for you—’

‘Shut up!’

Luke jumped to his feet and looked down at her with furious eyes. Forget maybe—he definitely wanted a fight. He knew what buttons to push too. ‘You really do have a habit of thinking that you know it all, Jess.’

The colour leached from Jess’s face and she stared back at him, her eyes enormous in her face. She looked at the papers on the bed, sucked in a breath and tried for a normal voice. ‘You don’t understand! Luke, it’s not what you think. It’s good news!’

‘I don’t care! What did I say when you suggested that I contact my aunt?’

‘That you didn’t want to do it,’ Jess replied in a small voice.

‘What part of that sentence didn’t you understand? How dare you take the decision to investigate my past out of my hands? If I wanted to know I am quite capable of finding out myself!’

‘I’m sorry. I thought I was doing a nice thing!’ Jess protested. ‘I thought you needed to know—that I was helping.’

‘You know, the first time I met you I thought you were an arrogant, snotty witch. Essentially, nothing has changed.’

When shocked hurt ran across her face he knew he had scored a direct hit, but she recovered quickly.

‘That wasn’t what you were thinking every time you took me to bed.’

‘Hey, your body was on offer. I’m a man. I just took what was available.’

‘That’s an awful thing to say.’

It was, but he didn’t care. Somewhere in a place that was beyond his temper and his anger and his fear, Luke realised that he was hurting her—that every word that dropped from his lips was like acid hitting her soul. He didn’t mean it, but he was bone-deep terrified of the implications contained in that envelope—knew that they would change his perceptions about the past, change him. He didn’t want to deal with any of it. Not with Jess’s love, with the anger he felt that his mother had died, leaving him with his monster father, with knowing how much he’d needed her in his life. He just wanted to lash out...to put all this turbulent emotion somewhere else...on someone else.

Jess had a massive target on her forehead. It wasn’t noble, and it wasn’t nice, but she was somewhere to put this burning, churning rage that had his heart, stomach and throat in an unbreakable grip.

Jess wrapped her arms around her middle. Fine tremors passed through her body—a combination of cold and emotion. She felt annihilated and utterly lost... Who was this man who was doing his best to hurt her? This wasn’t the Luke she’d thought she knew, the man she’d come to love. He was cold, hard, ugly.

‘Why are you doing this?’

‘Doing what? Being honest?’

Jess took a step forward and slapped her hand on his chest. ‘Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare call this being honest! This is you being a chicken-crap coward! This is you being scared of being close to someone, of exploring your feelings, of admitting that I mean more to you than a quick fling.’

Luke scowled at her. ‘Get real. This is about you making decisions on my behalf, insinuating yourself into my bed and my life—’

‘Insinuating myself into your bed and your life?’ The words roared out of Jess with the force of a freight train. ‘Who was the one who kept saying that this was a bad idea, that we shouldn’t sleep together because it would get complicated? That was me!’

‘Well, we did, and I knew that I’d regret it!’

Luke’s eyes were a deep green and as hard as granite. He was slipping further and further away from her to a place where she wouldn’t be able to reach him.

‘Luke, please don’t do this...’ Jess’s anger faded and she put her hand out to him. She winced when Luke jerked away from her touch. He was gone, slipped over. She’d lost him...

Jess felt her heart crack. ‘Why are you deliberately misconstruing my actions?’ she demanded. ‘I tried to give you a heads-up eight years ago about St Sylve and you tore me apart. I believe that you need to know that your mum loved you—adored you—but I’m being told that I’m an overbearing, interfering, controlling witch.’

Jess heard her voice grow stronger and she squared her shoulders and looked Luke in the eye.

‘And the icing on the cake? You slept with me because I was handy? Nice, Luke.’ Jess scrubbed her hands over her face. This day had gone to hell in a handbag... Her voice vibrated with emotion when she spoke again. ‘I thought you were it, Luke.’

‘It?’

‘The person I wanted to be with for the rest of my life. It just goes to show how utterly stupid I can be on occasion.’ Jess’s voice broke. ‘But you know what? I deserve more and I definitely deserve better. There were kinder ways to get rid of me, Luke.’

She took her keys out of her back pocket and played with them, fighting back tears. She looked around the room.

‘Please ask Angel to pack up my stuff. I’ll pay her to do it. I’ll send a courier company to pick it up. I can’t be here another second. Consider me history, Luke.’

When she was at the door she thought she heard him say her name, softly and laced with pain. But when she turned around Luke was still sitting on the edge of his bed, staring down at the carpet between his legs. It was just her active imagination, conjuring up scenes and possibilities that were impossible.

Walking away from him, from the place—the person—she considered her home took more courage than she’d known she had.

* * *

It was two-forty a.m. and Luke couldn’t sleep. Instead he lay on the leather couch in front of his flat-screen, watching the final advert for St Sylve for the... He’d forgotten how many times he’d watched it. He watched Jess jump into his arms, felt his heart clench each time she did it.

The rain hammered down outside, as it had done for the past week. He’d spent the day placing sandbags next to the stream that ran past the eastern vineyard. The stream was pumping, and more rain upstream would cause it to break its banks and flood the vineyard. He recalled his grandfather talking about that same stream bursting its banks in fifty-eight and washing away a good portion of the vines.

He had no problem learning from his forefathers’ mistakes.

It was learning from his own that he was having problems with.

Earlier tonight, unable to sleep, he’d reopened the envelope Jess had left behind and properly read the papers inside. The contents of which he was still trying to process...

According to the notes Jess had jotted down, his aunt had died shortly after his father passed away, but her daughter, who now lived in the cottage, had kept her mother’s papers and knew about Katelyn.

Long story short: his mum hadn’t left him. According to the daughter, his mother had left him at St Sylve for a couple of days while she sorted out a house to rent close to her sister. She’d already moved the bulk of his toys and clothes and his father had known that she was leaving.

He’d been an oops—a very welcome mistake for his mother, a way to be trapped into marriage for his father. They’d married, and the relationship had always been stormy. His father’s affairs and his inability to share his time, his money and St Sylve with her had led to her decision to leave.

She’d been on her way to collect him when she’d died. Subsequently his father had refused his aunt permission to see him or to have anything to do with him. She’d sent letters and birthday presents every year. When Luke had left school his aunt’s health had been failing and she’d decided to let fate run its course. If he chose to seek her out then so be it.

He might have decided to track her down...if he’d known about her. Naturally he’d never seen the letters or the presents. How typical of his father, he thought. He hadn’t wanted his mother, but her leaving St Sylve should have been on his terms, not hers, and he’d been left with a reminder that she’d left without permission: Luke himself.

Luke tucked a pillow behind his head. He now realised—could finally accept—that Jess had done this for him. She knew that there was a festering ulcer buried deep in his heart. She’d lanced it by tracking down his cousin—had started the process of healing by bringing him these papers. She knew it was necessary for him and also knew that he probably wouldn’t have done it without her pushing.

The folder of papers she’d left signified a particular type of freedom: the knowledge that he’d been wanted—loved. If he’d left with his mother he wouldn’t have had the material benefits his father had given him...but he would have been happier. Settled, not so neurotic about relationships.

Thanks, Dad.

Some time earlier, while reading the papers, he’d finally admitted that he was utterly in love with Jess.

Quickly following that thought had come acceptance that he was a ‘chicken-crap coward’—that he’d been scared of loving Jess in case he lost her, terrified of facing and dealing with the pain...and guess what? He had lost her. She was gone.

He missed her...and he felt sick every time he remembered that she wasn’t part of his life any more. Life together. It was what he wanted. She was the other chamber of his heart—the reason the sun came up in the morning. He could see her ripe with life, carrying his child. She would be the most fantastic mother—the glue that would hold his family together. He felt settled with her—calm, in control. Nothing much was wrong with his world if he could see her smile first thing in the morning.

He finally understood what love felt like...Jess.

Just Jess.

They were meant to be together; they would be together. He just had to find a way to make that happen.

Logistically, it was a nightmare. Her home, her life, was in Sandton. His was here at St Sylve. How much could he give up for her and, more importantly, would she even have him?

If he had to he would leave St Sylve. It would be a wrench, but if there was a choice between St Sylve and Jess, being with Jess would win. St Sylve was his heritage but Jess was his soul.

Luke rolled over, pointed the remote and switched the TV off. As soon as it was light he’d head for the airport, catch the first plane he could find and go to Jess.

He’d go to her because wherever she was, simply, was where he wanted—needed—to be.

* * *

Jess paced her mother’s kitchen, a glass of red wine in her hand, her thoughts a million miles away. Her father sat at the kitchen table, sketching, and her mother was making an apple crumble that Jess knew, from thirty-odd years of eating her mother’s food, would taste like cardboard.

When she refused to eat some she would only be telling the truth when she explained that along with destroying her heart Luke had also taken her appetite.

Clem stood at the stove, and Nick was somewhere in the house fixing something. He and Clem were in town for a couple of days to give Clem her ‘city fix’. It amused Jess that Clem’s need for a city fix always seemed to coincide with something that needed to be done at her parents’ house. It was, Jess knew, Clem’s very clever way of re-establishing and cementing Nick’s relationship with his parents after years of little or no communication.

Clem walked over to her and put her hand on her shoulder. ‘Oh, Jess, I do know what you’re going through. The month I spent without Nick was the loneliest, hardest of my life.’

Jess rested her head on Clem’s shoulder, dry-eyed but exhausted. ‘It’s been a week and my heart is shutting down...I never knew it could hurt this much.’

‘I have to tell you that your brothers are making plans to go down there and beat the snot out of him,’ Clem informed her. ‘There have been mutters about broken knees and cracked heads.’

Jess looked horrified. ‘They can’t! Honestly, why can’t they mind their own business?’

‘Because you are our business, Jessica Claire,’ her father said, his eyes focused on his sketch. ‘But I have faith in that young man. He just needs to get his head around the fact that he’s loved and in love.’

‘You don’t know Luke, Dad. He’s stubborn...’

‘But I know young men. I raised four and I was young myself once. Every one of your brothers took some time to shake off their...ahem...attachment to their bachelor lifestyle, to their freedom. I did the same.’

‘David cried and squealed like a girl when I told him I wouldn’t put up with him seeing other girls and that getting stoned regularly was not an option,’ Liza informed them crisply.

Her comment made Clem laugh, and Jess just managed a smile. She pulled out a chair and slumped into it. She wished she could tell them Luke’s reluctance to get involved wasn’t a normal man’s fear of commitment, that it was rooted in his childhood, in his mother’s death, his father’s lack of love.

Jess looked up at Clem. ‘You were right, Clem. Heck, he was right... I shouldn’t have interfered.’

Clem shrugged. ‘He’ll come to realise that you did it out of love and he’ll forgive you.’

‘I doubt it,’ Jess replied.

David looked up from his sketch of Clem. ‘Did his cousin say anything about Katelyn’s paintings?’

‘Apparently they are all in the attic at her cottage. Janet didn’t realise that Katelyn was such an important artist.’

‘Is she going to sell them?’ Liza asked.

‘No, she said they are Luke’s, and she’ll leave them where they are until he decides what to do with them. If he decides to do anything with them,’ Jess muttered darkly. ‘The list of paintings was in the envelope with the rest of the documents.’

‘I’d love to see them,’ David said reverentially.

Jess picked up a fork and traced patterns in the bright tablecloth with its tines. ‘You and me both. But there is no chance of that, Dad.’

‘Keep the faith, darling.’ David patted her hand. ‘And if nothing happens with Luke, just remember that your mother has the numbers of at least three young men who’d like to meet you.’

Jess couldn’t smile at his joke. She doubted she’d ever date again. That was the trouble with meeting your soul mate—it was difficult to imagine, comprehend being with another man. Even if said soul mate wanted nothing to do with her.

Liza saw something in her face that made her step forward and run a hand over her head. ‘Forget your brothers. I have a good mind to beat him up myself.’

Jess looked up into her mum’s sympathetic face. ‘It just hurts so much, Mum.’

Liza wrapped her arms around Jess’s neck and Jess rested her cheek on her stomach. ‘I know, baby girl. I know it does.’

* * *

Later on that afternoon, not knowing that he’d missed Jess by a couple of minutes, Luke stood at her parents’ front door and met Nick’s cold grey eyes. He thought that the possibility of Nick’s fist rocketing into his jaw was quite high. Jess’s brother scowled at him, and the muscles in his forearms bulged when he folded his arms and widened his stance. Luke thought he could take him, if he had to, but if Nick punched him he wouldn’t retaliate. He deserved the punch and more.

‘You have five seconds to state your case before I rip your head off,’ Nick snarled, his grey eyes thunderous.

Luke thought fast and decided to keep it simple. ‘I love her and I want to marry her.’

Nick stared at him and Luke braced himself. Nobody was more surprised when Nick’s face cleared, his arms dropped and a huge smile split his face. ‘Cool. C’mon in. Jess isn’t here, though.’

Luke stayed where he was. ‘You’re not going to hit me?’

Nick looked amused. ‘Do you want me to?’

‘No, I’ll pass. But...why not?’

Nick swung the front door open. ‘You took nearly a week to realise that you are an idiot. I took a month. The point is you got there, and you are doing something about it. You are doing something about it?’ he asked.

‘Of course I am,’ Luke replied irritably.

‘Then why are you here and not at her place, grovelling?’

‘I’m not quite ready to see Jess yet. Well, I am—but there’s something I have to do first and I need help.’

Nick clapped a hand on his shoulder. ‘I’m your man. I can’t wait to watch the merry dance my sister leads you for the rest of your life, mate.’

As long as she’s dancing with me, I don’t give a damn, Luke thought. ‘I need you and at least one other of your brothers to help me transport something...’

* * *

Jess was at home and wishing she could stop waiting for Luke to call. She propped her feet up on the coffee table and sighed. She had a huge, Luke-sized hole in her life and a smaller St Sylve hole next to it. She kept telling herself that life had a funny way of sorting itself out, but the words weren’t sinking in. She had loved and lost. Millions had, and it wasn’t the end of the world...it just felt like it.

Jess sat up, hearing a key in her front door lock, and turned around to see the door opening. ‘For crying in a bucket, Patrick! Hold it up!’

She heard another couple of muffled swear words from...Nick? Looking towards the front door, she saw three pairs of feet: trainers, loafers and—oh, God—scuffed work boots. And three pairs of legs behind a massive brown-paper-wrapped frame.

Jess stood up, her hand to her heart as the frame wobbled and Luke cursed. ‘Damn! Be careful. Okay, lower it against the couch. Slowly... This was not the greatest idea I’ve ever had.’

Jess had no words so she just stared at them, watching as Nick glared at Luke across the top of the painting. ‘I said that, Sherlock.’

Patrick straightened and theatrically placed his hand on his back. ‘Gee, I thought I mentioned it too. But, no, you had to make the grand gesture.’

Luke grinned at them. ‘You sound like a bunch of groaning grannies. For two sports freaks, you two could moan for Africa.’

Nick glared at him. ‘Bite me.’

Luke was here—finally here. His back was to her and she sucked him in. His hair was almost ludicrously long, curling over his collar and falling into his eyes. The long sleeves of his T-shirt were pushed up over his elbows and he wore his oldest, most faded and frayed jeans. Three-day-old stubble completed his surfer-boy look.

Jess’s mouth watered.

Then her heart hardened as she remembered that he thought she was an overbearing control freak, an interfering witch. And how dared her brothers use the key she’d given them for emergencies to saunter into her house without so much as a hello or any type of greeting?

She was sick of arrogant, egotistical, selfish men!

‘You have thirty seconds to leave my house before I start going bananas,’ Jess told them, her voice hard and cold. She waved at the brown parcel—obviously a painting. ‘And take that with you. I have nothing to say to you, Savage.’

‘Well, I’ve got a couple of things to say to you,’ Luke replied in a mild voice as his eyes flicked over hers, softened and bounced back to her brothers. ‘Okay, you two can leave now.’

Nick and Patrick exchanged a long, considering look and Patrick shook his head. ‘Forget it... I want to know why you chartered a plane to deliver that painting and why we had to babysit it like our firstborn in a truck over here. Are you going anywhere, Nick?’

Nick folded his arms. ‘Heck, no! Clem would kill me if I didn’t get every romantic moment. Get on with it, Luke, you’re wasting time.’

‘Like I’m really going to have this conversation in front of you two,’ Luke scoffed.

‘Nobody is having a conversation with anybody!’ Jess stormed to the door and gestured for them to get out. ‘You’re all leaving—now!’

Luke looked at her brothers. ‘C’mon, guys, give me a break. I need to talk to Jess and you’re not helping. Just go! Please?’

Nick placed his hands together in an attitude of prayer and bowed low. Patrick followed suit. ‘May the force be with you,’ Nick intoned.

The brothers bowed again before backing out through the front door and slamming it behind them.

Luke said something uncomplimentary about them under his breath before he raised his head to look at Jess. ‘Hi.’

Jess shoved her shaking hands into the front pockets of her jeans. ‘What are you doing here, Luke? I thought you said everything of importance a week ago.’

‘Not quite.’ Luke looked around her small house. ‘Nice place.’

Jess shrugged and sent a curious look towards the painting—it could only be a painting—then gestured to the kitchen. She had no idea why Luke was delivering a painting to her house after a week of silence and her pride refused to allow her to ask. ‘Do you want something to drink?’ she asked in a polite, cool voice.

Luke nodded and followed her into the sunny kitchen. Jess handed him a bottle of beer and they took up their customary positions of leaning against opposite counters. They spent a couple of minutes just looking at each other.

Luke eventually broke their hungry silence. ‘You look good.’

Jess lifted her eyebrows. He was either using flattery or her looks hadn’t gone to pot yet. ‘You look tired.’

Luke picked at the label on his beer bottle. ‘Listening to those two bitch for hours will do that to a man.’ Rolling a tiny ball of paper between his fingers, he flicked it towards the dustbin.

‘I’m surprised to see you and my brothers on such good terms,’ Jess said, annoyed. Where was her siblings’ outrage on her behalf? The desire to beat him up—metaphorically, of course. She didn’t want him actually hurt—because he’d broken her heart? Traitors, every last one of them.

‘Well, I practised my grovelling on them before coming here.’

‘Is that what you’ve come to do? Grovel?’

‘If I have to.’ Luke placed his untouched bottle of beer on the counter and rubbed his hand over his jaw. ‘I hope it won’t come to that. I have a great deal to say to you and I hope you’ll hear me out.’

‘You’re here, in my kitchen, and I can’t kick you out or gag you, so I don’t have much of a choice, do I?’ Jess retorted.

It was so unfair that he could look so good and she couldn’t touch him. That he was so close and yet still so inaccessible. She couldn’t read his eyes, couldn’t find a clue to what he wanted to say in his inscrutable face, his tense body.

‘Thank you for finding out what happened to my mother.’

‘Even though I interfered and took the decision out of your hands?’ Jess asked, sceptical.

Luke shoved his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and rocked on his heels. ‘I was scared to do it—scared of what I’d find out. I had finally come to terms with my mother’s death and I didn’t want to have to live with something else. When you handed me that envelope I felt like you were pushing me somewhere I didn’t want to go.’

Jess grimaced at the reluctant note she heard in his voice. ‘You’re still not happy I did it.’

‘I’ve been on my own for so long that I find it difficult to accept help—to feel comfortable with someone...’

‘Meddling? Interfering? Snooping?’

‘Concerned about me,’ Luke said firmly. ‘It’ll take some getting used to.’

Jess felt her heart roll over in her chest but dismissed the spurt of hope as her imagination. ‘That implies that there will be a tomorrow for us?’

‘I’m hoping that there will be a lifetime of tomorrows.’

Jess licked her lips. ‘You called me a control freak and overbearing, said you understood why my exes kicked me into touch. Snotty and interfering...’

‘I know, I know...I’m sorry. But I’d been slapped with a whole lot of things that day that I didn’t know how to deal with and I was reeling. You were in the splash zone.’

‘Like what?’ Jess demanded.

‘When you—briefly I’ll admit—thought that I’d slept with Kelly, I was hurt. I wanted you to trust me implicitly, but you hesitated.’

‘I did trust you—when I started thinking and not reacting.’

‘Then I saw the ad, saw all my dreams captured on screen, and I felt at sea. And then I realised that you loved me...’

‘Not any more,’ Jess stated, her colour heightened.

‘Liar,’ Luke countered. ‘I realised that you loved me but I didn’t know what to do about it. How could I ask you to leave your family, your business, your life to live with me? Someone who has no idea how to be part of a family, who doesn’t know how to give you what you need? Then you hit me with my past and it was too much...it was all too much. I miss you, Jess. I need you in my life.’

‘You hurt me,’ Jess said in a small voice. ‘You took my heart out and stomped on it. And now you’re back, asking me to risk it again?’

‘I want to be with you, Jess. I want you to be my family.’

Luke rubbed his shoulder with his hand. Jess heard his expulsion of air.

‘After my anger subsided and I looked at the folder I needed some time to think it all through: my mum, my father, you.’

‘And?’

‘And I’m glad to know that my mum loved me. I realise that my childhood is over and, most important, that I want to be with you—make a commitment to you. I don’t do that lightly or easily, because when I do, I do it with everything I have.’ Luke stepped forward and placed his hands on either side of Jess’s hips, effectively blocking her in. ‘I’m so in love with you.’

Jess gnawed on her bottom lip and looked up at Luke with wide, scared eyes. ‘So what are you suggesting, Luke, exactly?’

‘I realise that you can’t leave your business, so can we find a compromise? You spend a week with me at St Sylve, then I spend the next week with you here?’

When Jess didn’t answer, Luke sped up. ‘If that doesn’t work for you I’ll leave St Sylve, let Owen run it. Hire a vintner...go back to venture capital full-time.’

‘You’d hate it,’ Jess pointed out.

‘But I’d be with you, which is the most important thing to me.’ Luke raised an enquiring eyebrow at her still-troubled face. ‘What’s the problem, Jess?’

As Luke turned those amazing eyes to hers she stepped away and paced to the fridge and back, wringing her hands. ‘Look, Luke, you say you love me now, but I don’t know if you are going to change your mind again. I don’t know if I can run that risk. I don’t know if my...’ She stuttered to a stop and then forced the words out. ‘If my heart can stand it.’

Luke looked at her, his face expressionless. Then, taking her hand, he yanked her towards the lounge and made her stand in front of the wrapped painting. He looked at her, a small smile on his face. ‘Somehow I knew that I would need a grand gesture.’

Jess was utterly bemused as Luke went to stand at the side of the package. Bunching the paper at the corner edge with his fist, he looked at Jess, his heart in his eyes. ‘This is my most prized possession—possibly the only material thing I’d try to rescue from a fire. And you fell in love with it a couple of weeks ago.’

Luke ripped the paper and revealed the enormous painting that graced the large space above his bed at St Sylve. The mountains jumped out at her and the mist glistened. Jess wanted to climb into the painting with Luke and make love between the vines.

Ignoring her galloping heart, she forced a shrug. ‘I don’t understand.’

Luke patted the frame. ‘This is, apart from you, my greatest treasure. If there was one thing I’d risk my life to save it would be this. I just want to know if I can share it with you.’

‘But why? Are you giving it to me? You can’t give it to me!’ Jess squeaked. ‘It’s one of only two paintings you have of your mother’s.’

Luke half smiled. ‘I can, because the same thing that calls to me in this painting calls to me in you. Your strength, your generosity, your utter courage and your bloody stubbornness. And because I love you. You’ve got to know how much I love you.’

Jess couldn’t help her knees buckling. She sat down on the edge of the couch and stared up at Luke, absolutely baffled. She felt Luke’s arm around her shoulder and instinctively dropped her face into his neck, winding her arms around his head in case he disappeared as quickly as he’d appeared.

Luke ran his hand over her hair. ‘Sweetheart, are you crying? Because if you are Nick will beat me to a pulp. Not that I don’t deserve it, but I’d rather avoid it if I can.’

Jess lifted her head and her eyes were clear, bright and happy. She hiccupped a laugh. ‘Do you mean it?’

‘Which part? The loving you or the Nick beating me to a pulp?’ Luke teased.

Jess slapped his chest and placed her thumb between her teeth. ‘Luke?’

Luke kissed her hair. ‘I love you, Jess, with everything in me. I think I probably fell in love with you eight years ago and never really stopped. I’m sorry I hurt you. Let me share your life, Jess. In Sandton, if you want to stay here, or at St Sylve.’

Biting her bottom lip, Jess stared at the painting and back at Luke, who suddenly didn’t look as confident as he usually did. Maybe she hadn’t loved and lost as she’d first thought.

Forcing her bubbling laughter away, Jess pursed her lips. ‘My decision rests on a couple of assurances from you.’

‘As much wine as you can drink, I’ll replace any thong I rip with two more, and my house and land and my heart are in your hands.’

‘Shut up,’ Jess ordered, her mouth twitching. ‘I want a child. Or two. Maybe three.’

‘Sold,’ Luke responded quickly, joy flooding his face. ‘What else?’

‘I want to go home—back to St Sylve—and I want the painting to go back into our bedroom. And I want you to marry me. So if you don’t think that might happen some time in the future maybe you should walk away now.’

Taking her chin, he lifted her face to look up into his. ‘I was made to love you, to look after you, to protect you, to make beautiful, beautiful babies with you. Will you marry me?’

Jess’s mouth fell open. ‘You’re proposing? Right now?’

‘That’s what “will you marry me?” means. Feel free to say yes any time.’

His eyes held an element of doubt and she reached up to touch his jaw with her fingertips. ‘I’ll marry you because my sun rises with you, because I want to carry your beautiful, beautiful babies, because I want to tell you every day that nobody will ever love you as much I do and will.’

Luke rested his forehead against hers. ‘Oh, Jess, you take my breath away. I don’t have a ring for you yet. I was focused on getting you back and hadn’t dared hope that you might consider marrying me. Maybe we could have one designed?’

Jess sent him a look long of adoration. ‘Just knowing that I’m going to spend the rest of my life with you is enough.’

Luke cupped her face in his hands. ‘I love you so much.’

He kissed her thoroughly, reverentially, and Jess fell into his embrace, happiness seeping out of every pore. Her hands were undoing his shirt buttons when his mobile rang.

Luke cursed, yanked it out of his pocket and looked down at the screen. He turned the screen to show Jess. ‘Nick, your nosy brother.’

Jess pressed a kiss to his chest. ‘Ignore him.’

Luke dropped the phone, but it had barely hit the cushions when it rang again. Two seconds later Jess’s mobile started to chirp in the kitchen.

Jess dropped her head back and hissed her frustration. ‘They’ll keep calling until they know what’s going on.’ Jess reached for Luke’s phone and put it to her ear.

‘Can I not just be amazingly happy for five minutes without you guys wanting in on the action?’ Jess demanded, her hand on Luke’s cheek. She smiled as Nick spoke, said goodbye and then sent Luke a bemused look.

‘Nick says that you’re not to forget about the silky bantams. Um...why do you need to buy some chickens?’

Luke just laughed and kissed her.