It Was Only a Kiss

FOUR



Early the next morning, Luke stood with Owen on the veranda of his house, two massive Rhodesian Ridgebacks lying at their feet. Both men held hot cups of coffee—a welcome relief after the freezing temperatures in the lands.

Owen lifted his mug at the magnificent Dutch-gabled manor house directly across from them. ‘You’ve got to admit it’s one hell of a building.’

Luke nodded. ‘My ancestors were quite determined to make a statement that this was Savage land and that they mattered. Except for my father a seven-bedroom manor house wasn’t spacious enough. So he ordered the building of my house as a smaller guest house.’ Jed had also converted the carriage house into an office block, installed a gym, Jacuzzi and steam room, refurbished the tennis court, relandscaped the gardens...

‘All on borrowed money,’ Owen commented.

‘Yep—money he didn’t have and St Sylve couldn’t generate.’

After his father’s death Luke had immediately sold anything that wasn’t nailed down—excluding the family silver and furniture—to pay off his father’s debts. The money received had barely made a dent in the debt he’d inherited along with St Sylve.

Frankly, it would have been cheaper to buy his own wine farm...oh, wait, he had. He’d bought and paid for his own inheritance. If he added up all the money he’d poured into the estate over the years, servicing the debt and the interest, he’d probably paid three times what it was worth.

‘My father was intensely concerned about the image he portrayed. It didn’t matter that he was on the verge of losing everything. As long as the illusion of perfection was maintained he was content.’ Luke shrugged. ‘Sometimes I feel like going beyond the grave and slapping him stupid.’

‘Can I come too?’ Owen asked.

‘Who is going where?’

Both men turned quickly, and Luke’s cup wobbled as he saw Jess standing in the doorway of his house, dressed in jeans and low boots, her face mostly free of make-up and her hair pulled into a messy knot.

Luke felt his stomach clench and release.

After he’d introduced her to Owen and they’d exchanged some small talk, Owen glanced at his watch and excused himself. Luke thought that he needed to get back to the lands too, but he felt reluctant to leave Jess. It wasn’t good manners just to leave her on her own, he told himself...lied to himself.

‘We need to get your stuff into the manor house. I switched the electrics on; you now have lights but it’ll be a couple of hours until you get hot water.’

‘Thanks.’ Jess wrinkled her nose. ‘I’ll do that later. I want to explore St Sylve, if that’s okay.’

‘Sure.’ Luke shrugged. ‘I’ll give you a tour. What do you want to see?’

Jess shrugged. ‘Everything.’

‘Everything?’

‘I know the cellars and the buildings. I want to see the lands and the vineyard and the orchards.’

‘Okay.’

Luke stepped into the house and deposited the coffee cups on the hall table. Yanking down a heavy jacket from the rack behind the door, he handed it to Jess, thinking of how icy it could get on the bike. He pulled on his own battered wool-lined leather jacket over his long-sleeved T-shirt and stuffed a beanie into one of the pockets. In the shadows of the mountains the temperature could drop rapidly.

‘If you want to tag along, I need to check on how far along my staff are with the pruning, then I need to go across the farm to check on repairs to a fence.’

Luke gestured to his powerful dirt bike and led her towards it.

‘My Land Cruiser has gone in for a service, and the farm truck has gone to town, so this is the only mode of transport I have at the moment.’ Luke slung his leg over the bike. ‘Hop on. Relax and don’t fight me. Do you want a helmet?’

Jess sent him a cocky grin before sliding on behind him. ‘No, I want my own bike.’

‘You ride?’ Luke asked, not able to imagine this city slicker in charge of a dirt bike.

‘I have four older brothers. I ride, fish, surf, play one hell of a game of touch rugby, can start my own fire for a barbecue and change a tyre,’ Jess said as she settled herself on the bike, her thighs warm against his hips, her breasts against his back.

Oh, hell, she sounded like the perfect woman. That was not good. Luke turned the key and the bike roared to life.

‘Oh—and the faster the better!’ Jess yelled in his ear. Luke grinned as he picked up speed. ‘Yee-hah!’

Luke felt her hands, light on his hips, and smelt the occasional whiff of something sexy from her perfume. He knew that she was smiling, and when her body relaxed he realised that her tension had disappeared.

Luke felt the wind on his face, her warmth at his back and felt...content? He let the thought roll around his head...contentment.

No, probably not. And even if it was, experience had taught him that it wouldn’t last.

* * *

It was mid-afternoon before Luke turned the bike to head back to St Sylve, and Jess was past frozen. A cold front had rapidly moved in, with an icy wind that had blown in heavy clouds and was sneaking in under her clothes. Jess buried her face in between Luke’s shoulderblades and gripped his hips with now frozen hands. She wished she felt comfortable enough to slide her hands up under his jacket to get her hands out of the freezing wind.

Jess pulled her head up as Luke braked and stopped the bike. He left it idling as he half turned to face her. He took her hands in his and rubbed them.

‘I can feel you shivering. Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you out this long,’ Luke said, blowing his hot breath onto her hands.

Jess quivered and not only because of the cold. Seeing that dark head bent over her hands and feeling his warm breath on her skin made the worms squirm in her stomach.

‘How long until we’re back?’ Jess asked, her teeth chattering.

Luke winced. ‘About forty minutes. This cold front came up really quickly.’ He looked up and frowned at the black clouds gathering above. ‘We might get wet.’

Jess shrugged. ‘Well, then, we’d better get moving.’

Luke pulled a black-and-white beanie out of his pocket and pulled it over her ears, tucking away her hair. They were close enough to kiss, Jess thought. She could count each individual spiky eyelash, could see the gold highlights in his very green eyes, could make out the faint traces of a scar in his left eyebrow.

She really wanted to be kissed...

Luke’s fingers were cool on her face as he tucked her hair under the cap and she wondered if she imagined his fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary on her cheekbone.

‘At the risk of you taking this the wrong way, get as close as possible. Put your hands under my jacket—get them warm. The temperature is dropping fast,’ Luke said as he turned back.

Luke waited while she wriggled herself as close to him as she could and until her hands were flat on his stomach—oh, the blessed warmth—before roaring off. Jess put her face back between his shoulderblades and felt so much more comfortable than she had just minutes before.

His stomach was hard and ridged with muscle and his back was broad, protecting her from the wind they were now riding into. She’d forgotten how much of a man he was, Jess thought as the first drops of icy rain fell. It wasn’t only his impressive body—while he wasn’t muscle bound, he was still ripped in all the right places, like the six-pack under her hands—but wherever he went on the estate he instantly commanded respect.

She’d watched and listened as he interacted with his staff. He gave orders easily, listened when he needed to and made swift decisions. His employees felt at ease around him—enough to crack jokes and initiate conversation.

She hadn’t realised how extensive his property was or how much he was responsible for. He had a small dairy herd that provided milk to a processing dairy in town, orchards that exported plums and soft citrus, and olives that were sold to a factory in Franschoek that pressed and bottled olive oil.

‘They all add to the St Sylve coffers,’ Luke had said, a muscle jumping in his jaw. ‘Thank God.’

‘Are the St Sylve coffers empty?’ she’d joked.

‘You have no idea.’

Jess couldn’t understand it...why did St Sylve have money troubles if he had all these other sources of income? Even if the wine wasn’t selling that well, then the milk and olives, sheep and fruit should subsidise the winery.

It was a puzzle. Jess felt a big drop of rain hit her cheek and she shivered. Luke briefly placed his left hand over her hands, as if to reassure her, and Jess rubbed her cheek against his back and turned her thoughts back to St Sylve.

Luke and St Sylve were such a conundrum. According to the grapevine, Luke made money hand over fist from his venture capital business, so he was supposedly not hurting for cash. It was common knowledge that he had extensive business interests apart from St Sylve, and he was reputed to have the very fortunate ability to make money—a lot of which, she suspected, he poured into this estate. Although he was based in Franschoek she knew that he provided financial and management capital to high-potential, high-risk, high-growth startup companies for a stake in said company.

But the question remained: if he had all these other sources of income for the farm and he was still selling wine—not huge amounts, but enough—why would he imply that the farm was in the red? That it wasn’t self-supporting?

It was very bewildering.

Jess silently cursed as the rain started to fall in earnest. Within a minute the drops had turned into icy bullets that soaked her jeans and ran down her neck into her jersey. Jess groaned. She’d look like a frozen drowned rat by the time she got back to St Sylve...

‘Are you okay?’ Luke yelled at her.

I’m cold and I’m wet, Jess thought, but Luke knew that already. What was the point in whining? ‘I’m okay. Could murder a cup of coffee, though!’

‘You and me both. Damn Cape weather!’ Luke shouted, and Jess just caught his words before the wind whipped them away.

‘There’s ice in the rain,’ Jess yelled in his ear. She knew this because she could feel ice in the drop that was rolling down her spine towards her panties. She resisted the urge to wiggle.

‘I wasn’t going to mention it,’ Luke stated as he abruptly stopped the bike.

‘Why are you stopping?’ Jess demanded. ‘I thought the point was to get home as quick as possible!’

‘It is.’ Luke looked at a small track leading off from the dirt road. ‘How are you at cross-country?’

‘I’ve done it.’ Jess looked at him and pursed her lips. ‘Will it get us home quicker?’

‘It’ll save us about twenty minutes. But it’s tough. And muddy. And it’ll mean going through a small stream.’

Jess shrugged. ‘I’m soaked already. Let’s do it.’

Luke squeezed her thigh. ‘You’re quite a package, Sherwood. And even more of a surprise.’

Jess wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or not.

* * *

Luke had already polished off one cup of coffee and was on his second when Jess walked into the kitchen, dressed in another pair of jeans and a dark blue jersey.

‘Coffee?’ he asked, even as he poured her a cup.

‘God, yes.’ Jess took the cup, wrapped her hands around it and sipped. ‘Oh, that’s heavenly.’ Jess took a seat at the wooden four-seater table in the centre of the room and sipped and sighed. When her eyes met his, she smiled. ‘One hell of a tour, Savage.’

‘I’m really sorry we got caught in the storm,’ Luke said. It wasn’t like him. He always paid attention. But his mind had been on Jess and his hyper-awareness of her. The way her body had felt against his, listening to her introduce herself to his staff and engage them in conversation, watching her as she suddenly stopped walking and just looked off into the distance, as if she were taking a mental snapshot.

She was a city girl, and her attitude today had impressed him and, if he were one hundred percent honest, thrown him off his stride. He’d expected her to whine and moan about being wet and cold, yet she’d sucked it up and said nothing, accepting that there was nothing he could do about the situation but get them home as quickly as possible. While he’d pushed the bike through mud and grass and that icy stream she’d said nothing to disturb his concentration, and he’d got them back in record time...wet and dirty but ultimately safely, and as quickly as he possibly could.

She hadn’t griped or complained.

‘My boots are covered in mud. At least I can clean these—unlike my suede heels that I had to toss.’

Luke’s smile flashed. ‘I told you so. You’ll have to get a pair of gumboots.’

Jess shuddered. ‘They are so incredibly ugly.’

Luke rolled his eyes. ‘But made for mud and rain.’

Jess placed her cup on the table and looked past him to the window. ‘It’s really belting down.’

‘Winter in the Cape,’ Luke said. ‘Want some more coffee?’

‘Not just yet,’ Jess replied. ‘Thanks for the tour. I’ve already got some good ideas for the campaign...’

‘Want to share them with me?’ He took a seat at the table, propping his feet up on the seat of the nearest chair.

‘Not yet. Still percolating.’

‘So tell me why you wanted to work for me.’ After what had happened between them he’d thought that she’d hold a grudge for ever. ‘Why did you gatecrash my party, Jess?’

Jess rolled her cup between her palms. ‘It’s the most talked-about campaign around and I’m competitive enough to want to snag it. That was one reason. Another is that I have a reputation in the industry...I’m becoming very well known for tackling hard-to-rescue brands or campaigns. And I have a soft spot for St Sylve and this type of campaign is what I do best.’

‘Even though I—?’

‘Fought with me, kissed me and then fired me?’ A small smile tipped the corners of Jess’s mouth upward. ‘I deserved everything you said to me. You were right to fire me, and the k— Well, it was all a long time ago.’

She’d been about to mention the kiss, Luke realised. He really wished he knew what she wanted to say about it. That it was fantastic? She wanted to do it again? They’d be amazing in bed? It had been fantastic, he did want to do it again and, yes, he wanted her in his bed.

Jess was staring at his mouth and he wondered if she was remembering that afternoon so long ago, how it had felt to be in his arms, her breasts mashed against his chest, his tongue in her warm, tasty mouth. Luke heaved in a deep breath and surreptitiously dropped his hand beneath the table to quickly rearrange his package. It seemed that Jess still had the same effect on him as she had all those years ago.

He was coming to realise that he really didn’t want to be attracted to this woman. He felt that she could, if he wasn’t very, very careful, be a threat to his emotional self-sufficiency, his resolve not to become emotionally entangled.

Sleeping with her wasn’t worth the price that he would have to pay if he found himself emotionally trapped. And that was why she shouldn’t be sitting in his kitchen on a rainy Sunday looking sweet and hot, relaxed and rosy. She looked far too enticing...

Luke shoved his chair back and abruptly stood up. ‘Listen, I can’t sit around and drink coffee all day. I need to get into my office.’

Jess lifted her eyebrows. ‘No rest for the wicked? Even on a Sunday?’

‘I’m still running another company...I have to take what time I can get.’ Luke gestured to the fridge and raked his fingers through his hair. ‘Help yourself to whatever you can find to eat if you’re hungry. When the storm lets up I’ll help you move into the manor house. There’s a TV in the lounge, or...’

Jess shrugged. ‘I’ll grab my computer from the room and do some work myself.’

Luke shoved his hands into his pockets, desperately wishing he could just drag her upstairs to bed. ‘Well, call me if you need anything.’

Jess nodded. ‘I’ll be fine, Luke. I always am.’

* * *

It was the first time in the history of the world that a film crew had been on time for anything, Jess thought as she roared up Luke’s driveway to see the vehicles of the film company outside Luke’s front door. Behind them she could see the portly figure of her favourite director, Sbu, the willow-thin stylist, Becca, and she recognised one of the two cameramen.

She hadn’t planned to shoot the first ad only two nights after she’d arrived at St Sylve, but, as Owen had said, the pruning was nearly done and if she wanted to capture Luke working on vines that had some foliage on them she’d have to get moving. It was fortuitous that Sbu and his team were free today—well, they had planned on some editing, but she’d persuaded, bribed, threatened them into coming to St Sylve instead.

Jess sat in her car for a moment, knowing that the next couple of hours were going to be madness. She needed five minutes to gather her wits...

She was now officially installed in the manor house, in a beautiful bedroom with an attached study and large bathroom.

After the storm had abated Luke had helped her move her mountains of luggage up to her room and then disappeared back into his office. Later she’d heard him leave on the dirt bike. She’d heard him come back around seven, and when he hadn’t wandered over, she’d decided that she was too tired to deal with him anyway and tumbled into the enormous bed.

She hadn’t seen him since, and thought the chances of her having to go yank him out of the lands were quite high.

Or not, Jess thought as she jumped out of her car. There he was, talking to Sbu, and—what was he wearing? A white button-down shirt and khaki pants...for pruning vines? Uh—no. Not going to work.

Jess grabbed her shopping bags—if she wasn’t going to be sharing meals with Luke then a girl still had to eat—and strode over to Luke and Sbu. Luke greeted her and automatically reached out to take her bags, which she handed over gratefully. Ready meals, when bought in quantity, were quite heavy, and she was happy to sacrifice her feminine principles to get the feeling back in her hands.

‘Hi, Luke.’ Jess hugged Sbu, greeted the rest of the crew and then spoke. ‘Good to see you, Sbu. Did you get my rough storyboard?’

‘Mmm.’ Sbu shoved his hands into trendy cargo pants. ‘Not that it means anything, Jess. You always change stuff halfway through.’

‘For the better,’ Jess reminded him.

‘Can’t argue with that,’ Sbu replied. ‘Are you ready to get this show on the road?’

‘Nearly. I need to put some stuff away, and Luke needs to change.’

Becca’s exquisitely plucked eyebrows pulled together. ‘What’s wrong with his outfit?’

‘Everything,’ Jess replied. ‘He looks like someone playing at farming, and that’s not what I want. He’s got to look the part and he doesn’t in that outfit.’

‘Thank God,’ she heard Luke mutter.

‘That’s the most casual outfit I brought!’ Becca protested.

Jess shrugged. ‘Sorry, but it doesn’t work. I’ll be more specific in the future.’ Jess looked at Luke. ‘Let’s dump these groceries and get you out of those clothes.’

Jess lifted her hand as Luke’s mouth twitched in amusement.

‘Don’t even go there...’ she muttered in a voice only he could hear.

* * *

‘This wouldn’t be happening if you’d used a model,’ Luke grumbled as he followed her upstairs to his bedroom.

‘I’m afraid it would. I’m obsessively detail-oriented. I’m an absolute pain in the ass to work for and a relentless perfectionist.’

‘Control freak, are you?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘It would be fun to watch you lose control, Blondie.’

At his comment, Jess swung round and caught his eyes on her butt. He didn’t make any effort to look contrite or apologetic and, damn it, she appreciated his...appreciation. Instead of feeling insulted she felt warm and feminine, and a little coy.

‘Are you going to watch my butt the whole way up the stairs?’ she asked.

‘Absolutely...as it’s in front of me it would be a crime not to,’ Luke answered as they resumed climbing. ‘So, are you just going to film me pruning the vines today?’

Jess explained that they were going to film him riding his dirt bike over the lands, pruning the vines and walking.

‘Oh, joy,’ Luke muttered sarcastically.

Jess sent him a sympathetic look over her shoulder. His eyes held a mixture of impatience and frustration and, more than either of those, a degree of insecurity that she hadn’t suspected he felt. He was stepping out of his comfort zone and handing over control and he didn’t like it. Jess empathised. If they’d asked her to prance around her business and smile for the camera she wouldn’t be Miss Suzy Sunshine either.

She hated not being in control.

Jess stopped, put her hand on the railing and turned to look at him. For the first time since she’d met him she didn’t have to tip her head to meet his eyes as she was two steps higher than him. ‘Look,’ she said, ‘if you’re uncomfortable with anything we do, just shout. Sbu and I need you to be as natural and relaxed as possible. If you’re not then the camera will pick it up. So talk to me. I’ll do anything I can to make this process as easy as possible for you.’

They reached the top of the stairs and Luke guided her into his bedroom. It was a good-sized room, Jess noted, with a king-sized bed. It desperately needed colour, Jess thought, being a study in neutrals. Beige curtains, cream linen on the hastily made bed... And then the painting on the wall caught her eye. It was of the vineyards of St Sylve in a swirling mist, with just the impression of buildings in the background. Jess just stared at the painting for a long time, caught up in the mystery, movement and the sheer magic of the art.

And she fell in love...with the painting and with St Sylve. It was inexplicable, but the painting smacked her in the emotional gut. She was an artist’s daughter, but she’d never reacted to a piece of art as she had to this one. It was a massive canvas, nearly two metres square, but the scene was intimate and she felt as if she wanted to step into the frame.

‘Jess?’

‘Oh, I love that.’ She eventually spoke, stepping forward to kneel on the bed and make out the signature in the bottom left corner. ‘Who painted this? It’s fantastic.’

‘My mother.’

‘You mother was an artist? My dad is an artist!’ Jess told him. ‘I wonder if they ever met.’

‘Not likely.’

‘You’d be surprised. I must ask him if he knew her.’ Jess looked over her shoulder at him. He stood at the edge of his bed, his hands shoved in the pockets of his cargo pants, his eyes on the painting. ‘She died when you were very young, right?’

‘I was three,’ Luke said in a flat voice.

Jess sat down on the edge of his big bed. ‘Do you remember her at all?’

Luke took so long to answer that she thought he was ignoring her question. ‘I have a vague impression of long dark hair.’

‘Did you inherit any of her talent?’

‘No. Did you?’

‘My dad’s love and appreciation for art, but not his skill.’ Jess looked at the painting again. ‘Do you have any more of her art? If you do, I’ll buy one right now.’

‘I only have this one and the one in the lounge downstairs.’ Luke gestured to two closed doors on the opposite side of the room. ‘My closet.’

Conversation over. Jess sighed. Damn it. He was as mysterious as his mother’s painting, she thought as she crossed the room to his closet. Inscrutable and elusive and very, very compelling. Jess pulled open the doors and raised her eyebrows at the jumble.

And very messy.

There were shelves on both sides of the narrow passage that led to the en-suite bathroom, and the right side held a rail that was bulging with jackets and shirts. Jess itched to reorganise the jumble: there was a pile of T-shirts jammed into a space next to some files, jerseys on top of piles of paper, shoes and sports equipment in a heap on the floor.

Jess found some jeans and picked them up to find the pair he’d worn the other day—with the handprint on the seat. She turned her attention to his shirts. Flipping through them, she muttered as she pushed hangers to find what she was looking for...if he had it. His shirts were either too businesslike or too smart-casual. She wanted something worn, but button-down—long-sleeved, but... And there it was, right at the back and half hanging off its hanger. A long-sleeved collared flannel shirt, missing a button and with its pocket half falling off, in a green-and-black check. Jess pulled it out and nodded. Perfect.

‘Jess, that shirt is about twelve years old. I wore it when I spent a summer travelling Alaska. It’s falling apart,’ Luke complained when she waved it at him.

‘It’s exactly what I want,’ Jess replied. ‘Where’s that hunter-green long-sleeved T-shirt and your leather belt?’

‘Belt is in the bathroom. Green shirt? In a pile...’ Luke grinned at her slight scowl. ‘I suppose your closets are military tidy? Everything organised by type?’

And colour. But Jess didn’t think she needed to tell him exactly how anal she was. ‘Get changed. T-shirt underneath. This on top. Sleeves shoved up your arms. Your normal boots.’

‘Yes, boss,’ Luke grumbled, reaching past her to pull the T-shirt from a pile she hadn’t looked in. Mostly because she’d thought it was full of rugby shirts.

God, this man needed a wife—if only to sort this mess out. Luke moved past her into the bathroom and Jess went back into his bedroom and walked over to a shelf where she could see a couple of photographs in silver frames. There was a photo of him and Kendall and Owen after a rugby match, looking much younger and splattered with mud. Another of two elderly people standing arm in arm in the doorway of the manor. Judging by their dress, Jess surmised that they were Luke’s grandparents. The man had Luke’s smile. The picture in the most ornate frame was very obviously of Luke’s mother, holding and gazing adoringly at, even more obviously, Luke as a toddler.

Jess picked up the frame and looked into the feminine version of Luke’s face. That was what his eyes would look like if he was happy, Jess realised. They’d dance in his face... His nose was longer than his mother’s, his mouth a little thinner. But those eyes, the shape of her face and that luxurious hair...that was all Luke.

Jess replaced the photo and noticed that Luke’s father wasn’t in any of the remaining frames. Hearing him behind her, Jess turned around and smiled. Yep, that was the look she wanted—relaxed, casual...happy in his old clothes because, hell, he was the Savage of St Sylve. He didn’t need to dress up and pretend to be something he wasn’t...

Jess smiled. ‘You’ll do.’

‘Good, because I’m not changing again.’ Luke tugged at the shirt. ‘I like this shirt. I’d forgotten about it.’

Jess thought about mentioning that if he cleared the cupboard out he’d be amazed at what he found. But it wasn’t her house, he wasn’t her boyfriend... She changed the subject. ‘Why don’t you have a photo of your father up with the rest of your family?’

‘Because, while he might have been my father, he wasn’t my family.’ Luke snapped the words off.

Whoa! And didn’t that tell her a whole lot about their father-son relationship?

‘Can we get going? I still have real work to do today,’ Luke said, gesturing to the door.

Jess nodded and walked out of the room. Her family might drive her utterly insane, but she couldn’t imagine not having them in her life. If Luke had lost his mother when he was three, and if his father hadn’t been much of a father, as his previous statement implied, then that meant Luke had grown up without any sort of parental support system...

Jess felt her heart clench. He might have grown up on this beautiful estate, in a house full of very old furniture, but it sounded as if he’d grown up alone. Nobody, she decided, should grow up like that.