Under the Boss’s Mistletoe

CHAPTER EIGHT

‘IT’S coming on well, isn’t it?’ Cassie watched anxiously as Jake looked around the great hall. She badly wanted him to be impressed with the progress they had made, but to his eyes it must still look a bit of a mess.

‘That scaffolding will come down as soon as the decorators have finished that last bit of ceiling,’ she said. ‘And then the sheets will come up so you can see the floor. That still needs to be cleaned, but the fireplace and the windows have been done-see?-and they’ve made a good start on the panelling, too.’

Cassie had a nasty feeling that she was babbling, but she was feeling ridiculously nervous. This was the first time she’d seen Jake since the reception at the Savoy. It had been a busy couple of weeks, most of which she had spent running up and down between London and Portrevick so that she could keep an eye on the work at the Hall. But there had still been rather too much time to think about Jake and remember how it had felt when he had kissed her.

To wonder if he would ever kiss her again.

Not that there seemed much chance of that. Jake hadn’t asked her to appear as his fiancée again. She had obviously been much too crass. Cassie felt hot all over whenever she thought about how garish she had looked that evening. She must have stuck out like a tart at a vicar’s tea-party. It wasn’t surprising that Jake wasn’t keen to repeat the experience. He only had to look at her next to Natasha’s immaculate elegance to realise just how unconvincing a fiancée she made.

Their only contact since then had been by email. Cassie sent long, chatty messages about what was happening at the Hall, and Jake sent terse acknowledgements. She couldn’t help wishing that he would show a little more interest. Email was convenient, but she wanted to hear his voice. She needed to know what he thought about the decisions she was making. It was lonely doing it all on her own.

But that was what he was paying her for, Cassie had to keep reminding herself. What was the point in a consultant you had to encourage the whole time, after all? Still, she had thought that they had more than a strictly businesslike relationship. They had laughed together. They had pretended to be in love.

They had kissed.

Whenever she thought about those kisses-and it was far too often-Cassie’s heart would start to slam against her ribs. The memory of Jake’s mouth-the feel of it, the taste of it-uncoiled like a serpent inside her, shivering along her veins and stirring up her blood.

It was stupid.

It was embarrassing.

It was pointless.

Time and again, Cassie reminded herself that Jake only cared about saving face with Rupert. The engagement was a tactic, that was all, one that had the added advantage of promoting the Hall so that he could rid himself of an unwanted responsibility. He hated Portrevick and all it represented. Once the Hall was up and running as a wedding venue, he would settle their fee and that would be that. She had to keep things strictly professional.

That didn’t stop her heart lurching whenever she saw an email from him in her inbox, or sinking just a little when she read the brief message. It didn’t stop her hoping that he would come down at the weekend, or being ridiculously disappointed when he decided to stay in London instead.

But he was here now. Cassie had-rather cleverly, she thought-arranged with Wedding Belles that they would supply photos themselves rather than have the magazine send a photographer all the way from London to Cornwall. It would be cheaper for the magazine, and much more convenient for them.

Tina’s boyfriend was a photographer, Cassie had explained to Jake in one of her many emails. He and Tina were in on the secret, and Cassie had organised for him to take some photographs to illustrate the article. They needed some shots of the two of them apparently working on the renovation of the Hall and preparing for the wedding together, Cassie had told Jake. Could he come to Cornwall that weekend?

He would come down on Saturday, Jake had agreed, and Cassie had been jittery all day while she’d waited for him to arrive. She had changed three times that morning, and hours before there was any chance that he would turn up she would jump every time she heard a car. It was impossible to concentrate on anything, and even the most prosaic of conversations had her trailing off in mid-sentence or unable to make a decision about whether she wanted a cup of tea or not.

‘What on earth is the matter with you this morning?’ Tina had asked with a searching look.

‘Nothing,’ Cassie had said quickly. ‘I’m just thinking about how much there is to do. I might as well go up to the Hall now, in fact. There’s plenty to be getting on with. When Jake arrives, can you tell him I’m up there already?’ she’d added casually, as if she wasn’t counting the minutes until she saw him again.

She’d given herself a good talking-to as she walked up to the Hall. She’d hauled out all those well-worn arguments about being cool and professional, and concentrating on making the Hall a success, and had been so stern that she’d been feeling quite composed when she’d heard Jake’s car crunching on the gravel outside.

So it had been unnerving to discover that all he had to do was walk in, looking lean and dark and forceful, for the air to evaporate from her lungs in a great whoosh. How could she think coolly and professionally when every cell in her body was jumping up and down in excitement at the mere sight of him?

Cassie swallowed and made herself shut up.

Jake was still inspecting the hall. ‘It looks much better than it did,’ he agreed. ‘Are we still on target to have this room ready for the Allantide Ball? We’re in October already,’ he reminded her.

‘It’s only the fourth,’ said Cassie. ‘That gives us nearly a month until Hallowe’en. It’ll be fine.’

It’ll be fine. That was what she always said. Jake wasn’t sure whether he envied Cassie her relaxed attitude or disapproved of it. There was so much about Cassie that made him feel unsure, he realised. Like the way he hadn’t known whether he was looking forward to seeing her again or dreading it.

Jake didn’t like feeling unsure, and that was how Cassie made him feel all the time. Ever since he had met her again, he seemed to have lost the control he had fought so hard to achieve.

Take that reception at the Savoy, when he had been so distracted by her that he had hardly been able to string two words together. Having to stand and watch Rupert kissing Cassie goodbye and slipping her his card had left Jake consumed by such fury that it was all he’d been able to do to stop himself from breaking Rupert’s nose again. He’d had to remind himself that Cassie was probably delighted. She had told him herself of how she had dreamed of Rupert for years.

And, when it came down to it, she wasn’t actually his fiancée, was she? Why was that so hard to remember?

Hating the feeling of things being out of his control, Jake had retreated into himself. He would focus on work. Work had got him where he was today, and it would see him through this odd, uncertain patch.

He had been glad when Cassie had said that she was going down to Portrevick. It had felt like his chance to get some order back into his life-but the strange thing was that he had missed her. Her message about the photographs Tina’s boyfriend had agreed to take had pitched him back into confusion again, but he hadn’t been able to think of an excuse not to come, and then he had despised himself for needing an excuse. What was wrong with him? It was only Cassie.

Now he was here, and so glad to see her his throat felt tight and uncomfortable. At least she was dressed more practically today, in jeans and a soft red jumper, but he had forgotten what a bright, vibrant figure she was. It was like looking at the sun. Even when you dragged your eyes away, her image was burned onto your vision.

Jake cleared his throat. ‘So, what’s happening about these photos?’

‘Oh, yes. Well, it’s not a big deal. Rob is just going to take a few pictures of us inspecting the work here, maybe pretending to look as if we’re making lists or looking at fabric samples. The idea is to have some “before and after” shots, but we don’t need many now. We’ll have to pull out the stops for the supposed “wedding” photos, but we’ll do those after the Allantide Ball, when the great hall is finished and we can decorate it as if for Christmas.’ Cassie looked at him a little nervously. ‘Is that OK?’

‘I suppose so,’ said Jake. ‘I can’t say I’m looking forward to it, but we’re committed now. We may as well get it over and done with.’

‘Tina and Rob said they’d be here at five.’ Cassie glanced at her watch. ‘It’s only three now. Do you want me to ring them and get them to come earlier?’

‘What I’d really like is to stretch my legs,’ said Jake. His gaze dropped to Cassie’s feet. ‘Those look like sensible shoes for once. Can you walk in them?’

Outside it was cool and blustery, and the sea was a sullen grey. It heaved itself at the rocks, smashing in a froth of white spray as they walked along the cliff tops. The coastal path was narrow, and the buffeting wind made conversation difficult, so they walked in silence-but it wasn’t an uncomfortable one.

When at length they dropped down onto the long curve of beach, they were sheltered from the worst of the wind. Although Cassie’s curls were still blown crazily around her head, it felt peaceful in comparison with the rugged cliffs.

‘This was a good idea,’ she said as they walked side by side along the tide line, their heads bent against the breeze and their hands thrust into their jacket pockets.

‘It’s good to get out of the car,’ Jake agreed. ‘Good to get out of London,’ he added slowly, realising for the first time in years that it was true. He had been feeling restless and uneasy, but now, with the waves crashing relentlessly onto the shore, the wind in his hair and Cassie beside him, he had the strangest feeling of coming home. ‘It’s been…busy,’ he finished, although the truth was that he had deliberately created work for himself so that he didn’t have time to think.

‘Has anyone said any more about our engagement?’ Cassie asked after a moment.

‘Nobody seems to talk about anything else,’ said Jake. ‘My staff are giving me grief that I haven’t introduced you, and you’ve been specifically included in endless invitations to drinks and dinner and God knows what else. I’m running out of excuses.’

‘I don’t mind going,’ said Cassie. ‘But you probably don’t want me to,’ she added quickly. ‘I know I don’t exactly fit in.’

Jake stopped to stare at her. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I was so out of place at that reception,’ she reminded him. ‘I know I looked crass and ridiculous compared to everybody else there. It must have been really embarrassing for you.’

‘I wasn’t embarrassed,’ he said. ‘I was proud of you. You didn’t look crass. You looked wonderful. Nobody could take their eyes off you. Do you have any idea of how refreshing you were?’

‘Really?’ she stammered, colouring with pleasure.

Jake began walking again. ‘You ought to have more confidence in yourself,’ he told her. ‘You might not have a profession, but you’ve got social skills coming out your ears, and they’re worth as much as any qualification. Look at what you’ve achieved down here.’

‘I haven’t really done anything,’ said Cassie. ‘The contractors are doing all the work.’

‘They wouldn’t be doing it if it wasn’t for you. You had the idea; you’re getting them all organised. It’s time you stopped thinking of yourself as such a failure, Cassie.’

‘Easy to say,’ she said with a sigh. ‘But it’s hard when you’ve spent years being the under-achiever in the family. Social skills are all very well, but it’s not that difficult to chat at a party.’

‘It’s difficult for me,’ Jake pointed out. ‘I never learnt how to talk easily to people. There were no parties when I was growing up, and precious little conversation at all. We didn’t do birthdays or Christmas or celebrating.’

He walked with his eyes on the sand, remembering. ‘My mother did her best, but there was never enough money, and she was constantly scrimping to put food on the table. She was a hard worker. She didn’t just clean for Sir Ian, but at the pub and several other houses in the village. When she came home at night she was so tired she just wanted to sit in front of the television. I don’t blame her,’ he said. ‘She had little enough pleasure in her life.’

And how much pleasure had there been for a little boy? Cassie wondered. Starved of attention, brought up in a joyless home without even Christmas to look forward to, it was no wonder he had grown up wild.

‘It was hard for her trying to manage on her own,’ Jake went on. ‘I barely remember my father being at home. He was sent to prison when I was six. After he was released, he came home for a couple of weeks, but nobody in Portrevick was going to employ him. He went off to London to find a job, he said, and we never heard from him again.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Cassie quietly, thinking of how far Jake had come since then. From village tearaway to chief executive in ten years was a spectacular achievement, and he had done it without any of the support she, her brothers and sister had taken for granted from their own parents. ‘I can’t imagine life without my dad,’ she said. Her father might be a bit stuffy, but at least he was always there.

‘You’re lucky,’ Jake agreed. ‘I used to wish that I could have a father at home like everyone else, but maybe if he had been around I would have ended up following in his footsteps. As it was, I inherited his entrepreneurial spirit, but decided to stick to the right side of the law. But it was touch and go,’ he added honestly. ‘I was getting out of control. When you’ve got no money, no family life and no future, it feels like there’s nothing to lose.

‘Sir Ian’s offer came just in time,’ he said. ‘It made me realise that I could have a future after all, and how close I’d come to throwing it away. I knew then that if I was going to escape I had to get myself under control. I built myself a rigid structure for my life. I worked and I focused and I got out of Portrevick and the mess my life had become, thanks to Sir Ian.’

He glanced at Cassie. ‘But there wasn’t much time along the way to learn about social niceties. You said you felt out of place at that reception, but you belonged much more than I did. I’m the real outsider in those situations. It’s one of the reasons I was so drawn to Natasha,’ he admitted. ‘She fits in perfectly. I could go anywhere with her and be sure that she would know exactly what to do and what to say. It sounds pathetic, but I felt safe with her,’ said Jake with a sheepish look.

‘But you look so confident!’ Cassie said, unable to put a lack of confidence together with her image of Jake, who had always been the coolest guy around. ‘You were always leader of the pack.’

‘In Portrevick, and the pack was a pretty disreputable one,’ said Jake. ‘And I can talk business with anyone. It’s a different story in a smart social setting, like that reception, where you’re supposed to know exactly how to address Lord This and Lady That, how to hold your knife and fork properly, and chit-chat about nothing I know anything about.

‘You could do it,’ he told Cassie. ‘You chatted away without a problem, but I can’t do that. It makes me feel…inadequate,’ he confessed. ‘It’s one of the reasons I resent Rupert so much, I suppose. He’s colossally arrogant and not particularly bright, but he can sail into a social situation and charm the pants off everyone. Look at what he was like with you,’ said Jake bitterly. ‘All over you like a rash, and never mind that you’re supposed to be my fiancée and I’m standing right there.’

‘I think it’s just an automatic reflex with Rupert,’ said Cassie, hugging this hint of jealousy to her. ‘He flirts with every woman he meets.’

‘Does he give them all his number and tell them to call him?’

‘Probably,’ she said. ‘And most of them no doubt will ring him. But I’m not going to. I’ve thrown his card away.’

Jake felt a tightness in his chest loosen. ‘Good,’ he said, and when he looked sideways at Cassie their eyes snagged as if on barbed wire. Without being aware of it, their steps faltered and they stopped.

Cassie was intensely aware of the dull boom of the waves crashing into the shallows, of the familiar tang of salt on the air, and the screech of a lone gull circling above. The wind blew her hair around her face and she held it back with one hand as she finally managed to tear her eyes from Jake’s.

He looked different down here on the beach, more relaxed, as if the rigid control that gripped him in London had loosened. She was glad that he had told her more about his past. It sounded as if his childhood had been much bleaker than she had realised, and she understood a little better now why he had been so insistent on a formula for relationships. If you had no experience of an open, loving relationship like her parents’, fixing on a partner who shared your practical approach must seem a much better bet than putting your trust in turbulent emotions that couldn’t be pinned down or analysed.

It was sad, though. In spite of herself, Cassie sighed.

Beside her, Jake was watching the wet-suited figures bobbing out in the swell. Even at this time of year there were surfers here. Portrevick was a popular surfing beach, and lifeguards kept a careful eye from a vehicle parked between the two flags that marked the safe area.

Following his gaze, Cassie saw one of the surfers paddling furiously to pick up a big wave just before it crested. He rose agilely on his board, riding the wave as it powered inland, until the curling foam overtook him and broke over him, sending him tumbling gracefully into the water.

‘Why don’t you surf any more?’ she asked him abruptly.

‘I can’t.’

‘But you were so good at it,’ Cassie protested. ‘You were always in the water. I used to watch you from up there,’ she said, pointing up to the dunes. ‘You were easily the best.’

Jake’s mouth twisted. ‘I loved it,’ he said. ‘It was the only time I felt really free. When things got too bad at home, I’d come down here. When you’re out there, just you and the sea, you feel like you can do anything. There’s nothing like the exhilaration you get from riding a big wave, being part of the sea and its power…’ He trailed off, remembering.

‘Then why not do it again?’

‘Because…’ Jake started and then stopped, wondering how to explain. ‘Because surfing is part of who I was when I was here. I don’t want to be that boy any more. When I left Portrevick, I cut off all associations with what I’d been. I wanted to change.’

‘Is that why you gave up riding a motorbike too?’

He nodded. ‘Maybe it’s not very rational, but there’s part of me that thinks the surfing, the bike, the risks I used to take, all of those were bound up with being reckless, being wild and out of control. It felt as if the freedom they gave me was the price I had to pay to get out of Portrevick and start again.’

‘But you’ve changed,’ said Cassie. ‘Taking out a surf board or riding a motorbike isn’t going to change you back.’

‘What if it does?’ countered Jake, who had obviously been through this many times before. ‘What if I remember how good it felt out there? I’m afraid that, if I let go even for a moment, I might slide back and lose everything I’ve worked so hard for. I can’t risk that. My whole life has been about leaving Portrevick behind.’

He was never going back, Jake vowed. No matter if here, by the sea, was the only place he ever felt truly at home. He had escaped, and the only way was forward.

‘It seems a shame,’ said Cassie. ‘You can’t wipe out the past. That wild boy is still part of who you are now.’

‘That’s what I’m afraid of,’ said Jake.

Who was she to talk, anyway? Cassie asked herself as they turned and walked slowly back along beach. She didn’t want to be the gauche adolescent she had been, either. Perhaps if she could put her past behind her as firmly as Jake had she too could be driven and successful, instead of muddling along, living down her family’s expectations.

Tina and Rob were waiting for them back at the Hall, and Rob took a series of photos. ‘Detailed shots are best,’ Tina said authoritatively. ‘I’ve been looking through a few bridal magazines, and that’s what the readers want to see. A close up of a table decoration, or your shoes or something, so they can think, “ooh, I’d like something like that”.’

‘What about a close up of the engagement ring, in that case?’ Jake suggested.

‘That’s a brilliant idea. Why aren’t you wearing it, Cassie?’

‘It feels all wrong to wear it all the time,’ said Cassie, taking the box out of her bag and slipping the ring onto her finger. ‘It’s not as if it’s a real engagement ring.’ Unaware of her wistful expression, she turned her hand to make the jewels flash. ‘It’s just a prop.’

‘Some prop,’ said Tina, admiring it. ‘It’s absolutely gorgeous-and perfect for you, Cassie.’

‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’ Cassie’s eyes were still on the ring. ‘Jake chose it.’

Tina’s sharp gaze flicked from her friend’s face to Jake, who was watching Cassie. ‘Did he now?’

Cassie was glad they had had that talk on the beach. Things were much easier between them after that, and they were able to chat quite comfortably when Jake gave her a lift back to London the next day.

She understood a little more why he was so determined to leave his old life behind him, and could admire the way he had transformed himself-but a little part of Cassie was sad too. Their conversation had underlined yet again how very different they were. She wished Jake could let go just a little bit, just enough to let him want someone a little muddled, a little messy.

A little bit like her, in fact.

Oh yes, and how likely is that? Cassie asked herself. Jake was used to a woman like Natasha, who was beautiful and clever and fit perfectly into his new life. Why on earth would he want to ‘let go’ for her? The best she could hope for was to be a friend.

And that was what she would be, Cassie decided. After the photo session, she had persuaded Jake to come to the pub with her, Tina and Rob. He had been reluctant at first, remembering the less-than-warm welcome he had had on previous occasions, but this time it was different. Cassie had made sure that Portrevick knew the truth about Sir Ian’s will, and word had got round about the Allantide Ball too. She was determined to see Jake accepted back in the village, whether he liked it or not.

So the drive back to London was fine. Or, sort of fine. It was comfortable in one way, and deeply uncomfortable in another. A friend would enjoy Jake’s company, and that was what she did. A friend would ask him about his time in the States and about his job, and chat away about nothing really. A friend would make him laugh.

But a true friend wouldn’t spend her whole time having to drag her eyes away from his mouth. She wouldn’t have to clutch her hands together to stop them straying over to his thigh. She wouldn’t drift off into a lovely fantasy, where Jake would pull off the road and rip out her seatbelt in a frenzy, unable to keep his hands off her a moment longer.

‘Quick-where’s the nearest Travelodge?’ he would say-except a motel was a bit tacky, wasn’t it? Cassie rewound the fantasy a short way and tried a new script. ‘Let’s get off the main road and find a charming pub with a Michelin-starred restaurant and a four-poster bed upstairs,’ she tried instead.

Yes, that was more like it, she decided, almost purring in anticipation. There would be a roaring fire and they would sit thigh-to-thigh in front of it with a bottle of wine…then Jake would take her hand and lead her up some rickety stairs to their bedroom. He’d close the door and smile as he drew her down onto the bed, unbuttoning her blouse and kissing his way down her throat at the same time.

‘I’ve been thinking about this for weeks,’ he would murmur, his lips hot against her skin, his hands sliding wickedly over her. ‘I’m crazy about you.’

‘I love you too,’ she would sigh.

‘Did you mean what you said?’ said Jake, startling her out of her fantasy at just the wrong point.

‘What?’ Cassie jerked upright, her blood pounding. Good grief, she hadn’t been dreaming aloud, had she? ‘No! I mean…when? What did I say?’

‘On the beach yesterday. You said you wouldn’t mind coming along to various events as my fiancée again?’

Cassie fanned herself with relief. ‘Oh…no, of course not.’ Willing her booming pulse to subside, she pulled at her collar in an attempt to cool herself. She had got a bit carried away there. I love you too. What on earth was that about? She wasn’t in love with Jake. What a ridiculous idea. She just…found him very attractive.

Yes, that was all it was.

On the other hand, friendly was all she was supposed to be, she reminded herself sternly. ‘I’m always up for a party.’

Keep it light, Cassie had told herself. But it didn’t stop her spending hours searching for the definitive little black dress when Jake rang and asked if she could come to a drinks party later that week.

She should have spared herself the effort. Jake hated it. ‘It’s boring,’ he said when Cassie presented herself with a twirl and made the mistake of asking what he thought. ‘Why didn’t you buy a red one? Or a green one? Anything but black!’

Cassie was crestfallen. ‘I thought you’d like it if I wore what everyone else was wearing,’ she said. ‘I didn’t want to stand out.’

‘I like you as you are,’ said Jake.

When Cassie thought about it afterwards, she realised that it was actually quite a nice thing for him to say, but the words were delivered in such a grumpy, un-lover-like tone that at the time she was rather miffed. She had thought she looked really smart for once.

She didn’t bother dressing up for the day at the spa. To Jake’s horror, Wedding Belles had decided to send a photographer along to take a picture of them enjoying their prize, so Cassie had to hurriedly arrange a day when they could make the most of the voucher. Jake was furious when he heard that he had to take a day off work.

‘It’ll be good for you,’ Cassie told him. ‘You need to relax. I’ll book some treatments.’

‘There had better not be any seaweed involved,’ warned Jake as they signed in to the spa, which promised them ‘utter serenity’…‘a time out of time’.

‘Don’t worry,’ said Cassie. ‘I knew you didn’t like the idea of seaweed, so you’re going to be smeared in mud from the Dead Sea, and then wrapped in cling film instead.’

‘What?’

She rolled her eyes and laughed at his aghast expression. ‘Oh, don’t panic. You’re just getting a back massage. It’ll help you unwind.’

Jake was deeply uncomfortable about the thought of a massage at all, but in the end it wasn’t too bad. He couldn’t say he found the spa a relaxing experience, though. There was nothing relaxing about spending an entire day with Cassie, dressed only in a swimming costume and a fluffy robe which she cast off frequently as she dragged him between steam rooms, saunas and an admittedly fabulous pool.

How could he relax when Cassie was just there, almost naked? Jake couldn’t take his eyes off her body. She wasn’t as slender or as perfectly formed as Natasha, but she had long, strong legs and she was enticingly curved. She looked so touchable, thought Jake, his mouth dry.

He had to keep dragging his eyes back to her face as she sat on the edge of the pool, dangling her legs in the water, or stretched out on the pine slats in the sauna, chatting unconcernedly. The photographer took a snap of them in their robes, and Jake had a feeling that he was going to look cross-eyed with the effort of keeping his hands off that lush, glowing body.

Utter serenity? Utter something else entirely, in Jake’s book!

He told himself that it would be a relief when Cassie went back to Portrevick to prepare for the Allantide Ball. But as soon as she had gone he missed her. It was almost as if he was getting used to her colourful, chaotic presence; as if a day without seeing her walk towards him on a pair of ridiculously unsuitable shoes, or hearing her laugh on the end of the phone, was somehow dull and monochrome. Cassie enthused by email from Portrevick: Wait till you see the great hall! It’s looking fab. As soon as ball is over, will redecorate as if for a Christmas wedding and Rob is all teed up to come and take some photos of us. Will send them to Wedding Belles in January, and then it’ll all be over, you’ll be glad to know! Cxxx

Jake spent a long time looking at those three kisses. Kiss, kiss, kiss. What kind of kisses did she mean? Brief, meaningless, peck-on-the-cheek kisses? Or the kind of kisses that made your heart thunder and your head reel? The kind of kisses you couldn’t bear to stop, but were never enough? She had added,

P.S., We’re having an evening wedding (just so you know!) so don’t forget your tuxedo!

But all Jake saw was ‘it’ll all be over’. He wasn’t sure that he wanted it to be over, and not being sure threw him into turmoil. For ten years now he had been sure. He had known exactly what he needed to do. Now Cassie had thrown all that into question with three little kisses.