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She half-expected Jessica to linger on the staircase, turning on the full-wattage smile and bringing all her feminine wiles to play in an effort to charm Ryan. But, in fact, barely had Jamie sat at the kitchen table than Ryan appeared in the doorway and looked at her quietly, his hands shoved into his pockets.
An uncomfortable silence gathered around them which she broke by reluctantly offering him a cup of coffee.
She would cheerfully have sent him on his way, but there were things that needed to be said, and, reluctant as she was to open up any kind of discussion on her private life, she had no idea how she could avoid the issue.
‘Where’s Jessica?’ she asked, standing up and moving across to the kettle.
‘I sent her on her way.’
‘And she listened?’
‘I have that way with women.’
Jamie snorted, no longer bothering with the niceties that would have been more appropriate given that he was the guy who paid her salary. He had invaded her territory, and as far as she was concerned niceties were temporarily suspended.
‘Now you know why I got in late to work this morning. Jessica kept me on the phone for nearly an hour. She was a mess. I only knew that she had decided to sort herself out by coming down here when she phoned me from the train.’
‘No big deal.’ Ryan took the mug she was holding out to him and sat down. ‘Family crises happen. Why didn’t you just tell me the truth this morning?’ He watched her and realised that she was barely seeing him as she walked towards the kitchen table, nursing the mug in her hands. For a man who was fully aware of the impact he had on the opposite sex, being rendered invisible was a new experience.
He, on the other hand, keenly noted this new casual dresscode of hers, the one she used when she wasn’t wearing her work hat. Lazy eyes took in the way her jeans clung to a body that curved in all the right places and the way her long-sleeved tee-shirt skimmed a flat stomach and lovingly contoured pert, full breasts. Even her hair looked different—less neat and pristine, more tousled, as though she had spent time running her fingers through it. Which, judging from what he had picked up of the atmosphere in the house so far, she probably had.
‘I suppose because I happen to think that what happens in my private life is no business of yours.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake, I didn’t even know that you had a sister! How much of a state secret could that possibly be?’
Jamie flushed and fiddled with the mug before taking a sip of coffee. ‘I … I’m not really the confiding type.’
‘Really? I’d never have guessed.’
‘I didn’t tell you about Jessica because the chances of you ever running into her were non-existent. I live in London, she lives just outside Edinburgh. She isn’t a part of my daily life.’
‘And that was exactly the way you wanted it until she had the misfortune to need your support.’
‘Please don’t presume to have any insight at all into my family affairs!’
‘If you don’t want me to presume, then you’re going to have to be a bit more forthcoming.’
‘Why? What difference does it make? I do a very good job for you and that’s all that matters.’
‘Why are you so uncomfortable with this conversation?’ He could have let it go. She was right; she delivered the goods when it came to her job and whatever happened outside it was absolutely none of his business. But Ryan decided that he didn’t want to let it go. It was as though a door had been partially opened and what lay behind it promised to be so intriguing that he was compelled to try and push the door a little wider.
‘You don’t understand. You’re my boss, for a start, and like I said I’m not into confiding. I prefer to keep my own counsel. Maybe it’s a reaction to having a sister like Jess. She always made so much noise that it was just a lot easier to keep quiet and let her get on with it.’
‘Easier, but maybe not better. Forget for a minute that I’m your boss. Pretend that I’m just anybody—your next-door neighbour who has come over to borrow a cup of sugar, coincidentally just at a time when you need a shoulder to cry on …’
‘I’m supposed to think of you as my next-door neighbour on the scrounge for a cup of sugar?’ She was momentarily distracted enough by the image to feel her lips twitch. ‘What would you be doing with the cup of sugar?’
‘Baking a cake, because I happen to be a kindly and caring neighbour who enjoys baking. It’s my favourite pastime. Next to flower arranging and cross stitch.’ She was relaxing. She was even smiling and he felt a kick of gratification that he had been responsible for that. For some reason, he didn’t care for the idea of her stressed out, tearful and unable to talk to anyone about it. His experience of women was that they couldn’t wait to pour their hearts out and confide in whomsoever happened to be willing to listen. He was the youngest of four and the only boy in the family. He could remember many an instance of sitting out one of his sister’s ridiculously long phone calls, waiting impatiently to use the telephone.
This level of reticence was new to him. ‘So …?’ he prompted encouragingly.
‘So, look, I’m not sure how to say this but …’ Jamie sighed and adopted a slightly different approach. ‘Now that you’ve met my sister, what do you think of her?’
‘After all of my five-second acquaintance, I’m only qualified to tell you that she’s very attractive.’
Jamie felt a stab of disappointment but she nodded sagely at him. ‘She’s always been the prettier one.’
‘Hang on a minute …’
‘Spare me the kindness. I’m stating a fact, and it’s not something that’s ever bothered me anyway.’ But for a fleeting second Jamie wondered what he had been about to say. Of course, it would have been a polite lie, but nevertheless … ‘Jessica’s beautiful and she knows it. She’s also married and going through a bit of a bad patch which will blow over just so long as …’
‘As she’s not offered any distractions by someone like me?’ He looked at her coolly.
‘I know what type of girls you go for—tall, blonde, beautiful and pliable. Well, Jess is tall, blonde, beautiful and at the moment she happens to be very pliable. I know you probably think that I’m being totally out of order in saying this stuff, but you chose to come here, and now that you’re here I’m afraid I have every right to say what’s on my mind.’ She licked her lips nervously. ‘I hope I’m not jeopardising my job by telling you this.’
‘Jeopardising your job? What kind of person do you think I am?’ He was outraged to think that she could even consider him the type of man who would penalise her for speaking her mind. Was that what she thought of him? Under her cool, dutiful exterior, did she think that he was some sort of monster?
‘Don’t worry, your job is perfectly safe, and if you’re so obsessive about your privacy then I’m happy to walk out that door right now and leave you to get on with hiding behind your walls. As for your sister, she might be the sort of woman I date, but I don’t date married women, even married women who claim to be unhappily married.’
He stood up and the colour drained from Jamie’s face. She had enjoyed the free and easy way he had always had with her. It was all part and parcel of his unconventional personality, that curious, alluring mix of creativity, intelligence and self-assurance. Did she want to lose that? Did she want a boss who stuck to the rules and never teased her, or over-stepped the boundaries in asking about her personal life? That thought left her cold and she hurriedly got to her feet and reached out to put a restraining hand on his arm.
‘I’m sorry. I know how that sounded, but I have to look out for my sister. You see …’ She hesitated a fraction of a second. ‘Our dad died when I was six, and when Jess was sixteen Mum died after complications following an operation. It was horrible. I was left in charge. Mum made me promise that I would look after her. I was about to go to university, but I found myself having to get a job and look after Jess.’
‘That was a lot of responsibility for someone so young,’ Ryan murmured, sitting back down.
‘It wasn’t easy,’ Jamie agreed. ‘Jess was boy crazy and I nearly tore my hair out making sure she showed up at school every day and left with a handful of qualifications.’
‘What were you doing for a job?’ he asked curiously, and was even more curious when slow colour crept into her cheeks and she looked down.
‘Oh, just working at a vet’s. It wasn’t what I had expected to be doing at the age of nineteen, but I enjoyed it. The thing is …’
‘What had you expected to be doing?’
‘Huh?’
‘Your plans? Dreams? Ambitions? What were they before your life was derailed?’
‘Well …’ Jamie flushed and hesitated. ‘I wanted to go to university and study law. Seems like a lifetime ago! Anyway, that’s not important. The important thing is that I just wanted to warn you off her.’
‘Tough, having to give up on your dreams. There must be a part of you that resents her.’
‘Of course there isn’t! No one can help what life throws at them.’
‘Noble sentiment. Alas, not many of us are noble creatures.’
‘As I was saying …’ Jamie chose to ignore the invitation to elaborate. ‘I just wanted to warn you off her.’
‘Because she’s going to dutifully return to her husband and they’re both going to live happily ever after?’
‘Yes!’
‘Warning duly noted.’
‘What warning?’
Jessica was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, and with a sinking heart Jamie realised that she hadn’t vanished because she had been instructed to vanish—she had vanished so that she could have a shower and resurface in the least amount of clothing possible. She was kitted out in slinky lounging culottes and a tiny vest, worn bra-less, that left nothing to the imagination. She had a stupendous figure and every inch of it was available for inspection as she walked slowly into the kitchen, enjoying the attention.
Through the thin, grey vest, Jamie could see the outline of her sister’s nipples. Ryan would similarly be taking that in. Yes, he had told her that he would keep away from Jessica, but how strong was any red-blooded man’s will power when it came to a sexy woman who was overtly encouraging?
‘Well?’ Jessica paused and leaned against the counter, legs lightly crossed at the ankles, her back arched so that her breasts were provocatively thrust forward. ‘What warning?’
‘A warning,’ Ryan drawled, ‘that I’m not to interfere and try and persuade you to return to your husband.’
Jessica looked at her sister narrowly. ‘That true, Jamie?’
‘Why would he lie?’
‘So you don’t mind me staying with you for a while? Maybe until Christmas is over? I mean, it’s only a couple of weeks away. I could help you decorate the tree and stuff and by then I might have got my head together.’
Boxed in, Jamie had no choice but to concede defeat.
‘Hey, we could even have a party!’ She looked sideways at Ryan and shot him a half-smile. ‘I’m great at organising parties. What are you up to at Christmas, anyway?’
‘Jessica!’
‘Oh, don’t be such a bore, Jamie.’
‘I’m in the country,’ Ryan murmured. ‘Why?’ He had already received so many invitations to join people for Christmas lunch that he was seriously considering ignoring them all and locking himself away in his apartment until the fuss was over.
‘You could join us here.’
Adjacent to Jamie, he was aware of her look of pure horror at the suggestion. He nearly burst out laughing, but he managed to keep a straight face as he appeared to give the offer considerable thought.
‘Well …’ He hesitated. ‘I am in the unique position of spending Christmas day without my family.’
‘Where are they?’ Jessica strolled towards him, her thumbs hooked lightly into the elasticated waistband of the culottes so that they were dragged slightly down, exposing a flat, brown belly and the twinkling glitter of her pierced navel.
No wonder Jamie worried about her sister, Ryan thought. The woman was clearly a walking, talking liability to anybody’s peace of mind.
‘They’re in the Caribbean.’
Jessica’s eyes rounded into impressed saucers and her mouth fell open. ‘You’re kidding.’
‘I have a house there and this year they’ve all decided to spend Christmas and New Year in it.’
‘I don’t know why we’re having this silly conversation,’ Jamie interrupted crisply. ‘Ryan already has his own plans for Christmas.’ She rose to her feet and pulled open the dishwasher, which was her way of announcing that it was time for the impromptu evening to come to an end. But Jessica was in full flow, quizzing Ryan about his house in the Caribbean, asking him what it looked like, while he answered with just the sort of indulgent amusement that she was accustomed to getting. It had never mattered what boundaries Jessica had over-stepped; the world had always smiled and allowed her to get away with it. Whoever said that beautiful people didn’t lead charmed lives?
‘I’m open to persuasion,’ Ryan finished, leaning back and watching Jamie bang pans into cupboards, frustration stamped on her face, her mouth downturned and scowling. ‘What were you going to do, Jamie? Bit boring if you had been planning to stay in on your own.’
‘I would rather call it peaceful,’ she snapped. ‘And, besides, I had plans to go out for drinks on Christmas morning with some friends and I would probably have hung around for their alternative Christmas lunch.’
‘I want traditional,’ Jessica stated flatly.
‘What’s Greg going to do?’ Jamie spun round to look at her sister. ‘Does he know that you’re planning on abandoning him for Christmas day?’
‘He won’t mind. He’s on call, and anyway, his parents can’t wait to have him all to themselves so that they can tell him what a rotten wife I am. So …’ That technicality concluded, Jessica turned her attention back to Ryan, who looked as comfortable and settled in the kitchen as though he had been there a million times. ‘Will you come? Jamie’s never been into Christmas, but I’ll make her stick up a tree, and it’ll be festive with a turkey and all the trimmings!’
‘I’m sure he’ll think about it. Just stop nagging him, Jess!’ Jamie was pretty sure that she could convince Ryan to ignore her sister’s rantings. He was a guy who was in great demand. The last thing he would want to do would be to sit around a small pine table in a kitchen and dine on a turkey reluctantly cooked by his secretary. Just the thought of it made her shiver in nervous apprehension.
‘It’s wonderful the way you can answer on my behalf.’ Ryan grinned at Jamie, who scowled back at him. ‘It’s probably why we work so well together. You know just when to read my mind.’
‘Ha-ha. Very funny.’
‘But she’s right.’ He stood up and glanced at Jessica. ‘I’ll think about it and let Jamie know.’
‘Or you could let me know. I’ll give you my mobile number and you can get in touch any time at all. No need to go through Jamie.’
He left five minutes later and Jamie sagged. The peace of having her sister upstairs safely in bed was greatly diminished by the nasty tangle of thoughts playing in her mind.
Not only had Ryan found out more about her in the space of an hour than he had in eighteen months, but she was now facing the alarming prospect that, having wedged his foot through the door, it would be impossible to get him to remove it.
Everything that had always been so straightforward had now been turned on its head.
And what if the man decided to descend on them for Christmas lunch?
Apprehension sizzled in her and, alongside that very natural apprehension, something else, something even more worrying, something that closely resembled … anticipation.
CHAPTER THREE
CHRISTMAS’S rapid approach brought a temporary lull in the usual relentless work-ethic. Ryan Sheppard made a very good Christmas boss. He entered into the spirit of things by personally supervising the decorations and cracking open champagne at six every evening for whoever happened to be around in the countdown to the big day. Extra-long lunch hours shopping were tactfully overlooked. On Christmas Eve, work was due to stop at twelve and the rest of the day given over to the Secret Santa gift exchanges and an elaborate buffet lunch which would be prepared by Ryan’s caterers.
On the home front, Jamie was stoically putting up with a sister who had decided to throw herself into the party season with gay abandon. She tagged along to all the Christmas parties to which Jamie had been invited, flirted outrageously with every halfway decent-looking bachelor, and in the space of a week and a half collected more phone numbers than Jamie had in her address book. There was, ominously, no mention of Greg. If they were in contact, it certainly wasn’t via the landline. Jamie had stopped asking because the response of tear-filled eyes, followed by an angry sermon about the valuable space for which she was still searching, was just too much of a headache.
A tree had been erected and Jessica had enthusiastically begun helping with the lights, but like a child, had become bored after fifteen minutes, leaving Jamie to complete the task. Clothes were left strewn in unlikely places and were retrieved with an air of self-sacrifice whenever Jamie happened to mention the state of the house. The consequence of this was that Jamie’s peaceful existence was now a round-the-clock chore of tidying up behind her sister and nagging.
Of course, Jamie knew that she would have to sit her sister down and insist on knowing when she intended to return to Scotland, but like a coward she hid behind the Christmas chaos and decided to shelve all delicate discussions until Boxing Day at the very least.
There was also the hurdle of Christmas day to get through. Ryan had, totally unexpectedly, accepted Jessica’s foolish invitation to lunch and, with the prospect of three people cutting into a turkey that would be way too big, Jamie had invited several other members of staff to come along if they weren’t doing anything.
Three guys from the software department had taken her up on the invitation, as well as a couple of her girlfriends whom she had met at the gym when she had first arrived in London.
Jamie anticipated an awkward lunch, but when she mentioned that to her sister, Jessica had smiled brightly and assured her that there was no need to worry.
‘I’m a party animal!’ she had announced. ‘I can make any gathering go with a bang, and I’ve got loads of party hats and crackers and stuff. It’ll be a blast! So much better than last year, which was a deadly meal round at the in-laws’. I can’t wait to fill Greg in when the last guest leaves.’
‘I’m surprised you even care what he thinks,’ Jamie had said and was vaguely reassured when her sister had gone bright red.
Not that she had dwelled on that for any length of time. Most of her mind for the past week had been taken up with the prospect of Ryan descending on her house for Christmas lunch.
And now the day had finally arrived. It came with dark, leaden skies and a general feeling of anticlimax; although some snow had been forecast, it appeared to be in the process of falling everywhere else but in London.
From downstairs came the thud of music, a compilation of songs which Jessica had prepared during her spare time. Peace seemed a distant dream. At eight-thirty, Jamie had thoroughly cleaned the bathroom, which had been taken over by her sister in a series of undercover assaults, so that each day slightly more appeared on the shelf and in the cabinet.
Now, sitting and staring at her reflection in the mirror, Jamie wondered how much longer she would be able to cope with a very hyper Jessica.
Then she thought about her outfit: a long-sleeved black dress that, she knew, would look drab against the peacock-blue of Jessica’s mini skirt and her high wedges that would escalate her height to six feet.
By the time the first guest arrived, Jamie was already settling into her role of background assistant to her life-and-soul-of-the-party sister.
Every nerve in her body was tuned to the sound of the doorbell, but when Ryan eventually appeared, she was in the kitchen, as it happened, doing various things with the meal. Outside alcohol was steadily being consumed and Jessica was flirting, dancing and enjoying the limelight, even though the guys concerned were the sort of highly intelligent eccentrics she would ordinarily have dismissed as complete nerds.
The sound of his voice behind her, lazy and amused, zapped her like a bolt of live electricity and she leapt to her feet and spun around, having been peering worriedly into the oven.
‘Well,’ he drawled, walking into the kitchen and peering underneath lids at the food sitting on the counter, ‘looks like the party’s going with a swing.’
‘You’re here.’
‘Did you think that I wasn’t going to turn up?’ Since the last time he had seen her in jeans and a tee-shirt, he had found himself doing quite a bit of thinking about her. As expected, she had mentioned nothing about her sister when she had been at work, which didn’t mean that their working relationship had remained the same. It hadn’t. Something subtle had altered, although he had a feeling that that just applied to him. She had been as efficient, as distant and as perfectly polite as ever.
‘I’m nothing if not one-hundred-percent reliable.’ He held out a carrier bag. ‘Champagne.’
Flustered, she kept her eyes firmly on his face, deliberately avoiding the muscular legs encased in pair of black trousers and the way those top two undone buttons of his cream shirt exposed the shadow of fine, dark hair.
‘Thanks.’ She reached out for the carrier bag and was startled when from behind his back he produced a small gift-wrapped box. ‘What’s this?’
‘A present.’
‘I’m still working my way through the bottle of perfume you gave me last year.’ She wiped her hands and then began opening the present.
Her mouth went dry. She had been privy to quite a few of his gifts to women. They ranged from extravagant bouquets of flowers to jewellery to trips to health spas. This, however, was nothing like that. In the small box was an antique butterfly brooch and she picked it up, held it up to the light and then set it back down in its bed of tissue paper before raising her eyes to his.
‘You bought me a butterfly,’ she whispered.
‘I noticed that you had a few on your mantelpiece in the sitting room. I guessed you collect them. I found this one at an antique shop in Spitalfields.’
‘It’s beautiful, but I can’t accept it.’ She thrust it at him and turned away, her face burning.
‘Why not?’
‘Because … because …’
‘Because you don’t collect them?’
‘I do, but …’
‘But it’s yet another of those secrets of yours that you’d rather I knew nothing about?’
‘It just isn’t appropriate,’ Jamie told him stiffly. In her head, she pictured him roaming through a market, chancing upon the one thing he knew would appeal to her, handing over not a great deal of cash for it, but it never took much to win someone over. Except, she wasn’t on the market to be won over. Nor was he on the market for doing anything but what came naturally to him—thinking outside the box. It was why he was such a tremendous success in his field.
‘Okay, but you know that it’s an insult to return a gift.’ Ryan shrugged. ‘I’m in your house. Consider it a small token of gratitude for rescuing a lonely soul from wandering the streets of London on Christmas day.’
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