Her Client from Hell (9 page)

Ignoring the alarms, Cassie pulled out her trusty folder and began a long discussion with Lizzie, as Jack watched silently, his demeanour relaxing as the evening wore on. While Cassie’s grew more fidgety and jittery, being close enough to look but not touch.

Menu decisions finally made, Lizzie finished her second drink then picked up her bag. ‘Now, I have to go. Callum’s meeting me outside; we’re helping make a float for the Carnival and we have a session tonight round the corner in one of the warehouses. It’s my design so I have to make sure I’m there. Are you going?’

Cassie nodded, Jack’s sister was so vibrant and positive; she was a real breath of fresh air. ‘Wouldn’t miss it for the world. I have a stall there.’

‘A food stall? Both days? Oh, fabulous. I’ll be sure to come and buy something from you.’ Lizzie stood to leave, gave her brother a swift kiss on the cheek. ‘Wait, hang on—do you need any help?’

‘I...er...’

‘I could bring Callum, because you have to meet him before the wedding anyway; we can talk some more about the big day and generally have some fun hanging out. What do you think?’

Things had been so busy, she hadn’t hung out in a long time. But it was so hard to accept help these days. Firstly, because she didn’t want to be ripped off. And she was sure she wouldn’t be; they all seemed like decent, honest people. But then, so had Patrick, with decent, honest credentials and a badge to match. Secondly, the least time spent with old brown eyes here, making her insides turn to goo and her brain turn to mush, the better. She’d allowed him to help yesterday and the end result was that she was even more in his debt. ‘I don’t know.’

Jack stood and, despite his casual attire, he looked every bit a man who knew what he wanted and was going to work damned hard to get it. Like last night, as he’d gripped her waist and taken her mouth. ‘I’m sure Cassie has it all worked out just fine. She doesn’t need us messing with her stall.’

Lizzie bit her lip. ‘Oh, okay, sorry. I do have a habit of foisting myself on people. If you think we’ll get in the way, that’s fine.’

‘No. I just don’t...’
need to spend any more time with your brother.
She didn’t know how long she could shore up those defences before she was begging him to take her mouth again, and any other part of her he felt like putting his lips on.

Lizzie shrugged. ‘I thought it’d be payback for what you’re doing for me. I won’t touch the food if you don’t want. I could just collect the orders and keep you supplied with cocktails. I can’t cook but I make a mean margarita. But if you don’t want—I understand.’

‘No, let me think.’ There was something about Jack’s sister that was undeniable. And heck, taking orders and filling them at the same time was pretty tricky on her own. Plus she never got a break. It was a long day. ‘Okay. That would be lovely. Yes. Thank you. Only I won’t be able to pay you.’

‘As if we’d expect that. You’re doing us a favour; we can do you one in return.’ Lizzie turned to Jack and rolled her eyes at his reluctant stance. Hands deep in pockets, eyes looking anywhere but at the women. ‘Don’t think you’re getting away with it, Jack Brennan. You’re coming too. If it wasn’t for you, then poor Cassie wouldn’t be in this situation.’

‘What? It’s a job; she’s getting paid.’ He opened and closed his mouth, clearly thinking better of arguing with his sister any more. Eventually he spoke. ‘I’m probably working.’

‘Well, don’t. For goodness’ sake, take some time out. You’re getting grouchier by the minute. Be there to help Cassie. Or you won’t be coming to my wedding.’ She slapped another kiss on his cheek then disappeared into the crowd, her voice trailing in her wake. ‘See you. See you on Sunday, Cassie.’

‘I’m sorry about Lizzie—she doesn’t mean it. About the wedding—I’m giving her away; she’ll look a bit daft standing there on her own.’ Jack walked Cassie to the door and opened it to the bright early evening sunshine. Those questions about his past were on the tip of her tongue, but he continued talking. ‘She gets a bit carried away sometimes. She’s a people pleaser, and with a penchant for the dramatic.’

‘And clearly you’re not.’ It was said very tongue in cheek but he turned to look at her.

‘No. I’m not. I stopped needing people to like me a long time ago.’

‘Well, that’s a good job, then.’

‘Meaning?’ He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and she caught the exact moment he realised it was a joke. And, not for the first time, she wished she could bring a smile to that mouth again and again. To smooth out those edges and find the real Jack underneath. Because she knew he was there. He just hadn’t got the hang of totally letting loose. Yet.

‘Meaning you are very different. I mean, really different. It’s hard to believe you’re siblings.’

‘Well, she’s twenty-six. I’m twenty-eight. She’s a girl. I’m not. Cassie, do I really need to explain to you the difference between boys and girls?’

* * *

Outside, the long, hot summer day had turned a little cooler with a gentle breeze. The traders had packed up, leaving empty stalls along the road. Cafés and bars spilled out into the street, which was lined with an odd combination of summery hanging baskets, building-high billboard adverts and rough and ready posters for grunge bands. Old-fashioned barber shops rubbed shoulders with independent designers’ quirky stores, as if the area hadn’t quite got a grip on its real identity.

He walked her to the traffic lights on the corner, and she realised he was taking her home. Making sure she got back safely, when his house was at a tangent from here. It was still light and she was perfectly safe. And she knew she was annoying the hell out of him, but still, the need to protect seemed to just be an automatic reaction within him.

‘Go on then, Jack. Tell me about the birds and the bees.’ Showing her would be more interesting. The rush of heat at the memory of him letting loose in her stairwell threatened to overwhelm her. ‘I’m so overdue that conversation. Maybe you could teach me a thing or two.’

‘Oh, Cassie. You have no idea.’

‘Try me.’

He smiled then—it was wide and free and full. And she realised she was a lot like Lizzie, a people pleaser. Had been since day dot, and had amassed a great deal of friends, drawn to the promise of fun like a moth to a flame. Friends she hadn’t been too careful about, people who hadn’t necessarily taken care with her.

Jack wasn’t like that. He obviously chose people with the same amount of care he invested in his career and his work, if he chose any friends at all. But Nate respected him and so did her sister. Lizzie clearly adored him and he her.

So it was a slam in the chest to know she wanted him to like her. She wanted him to touch her again. To kiss her. To feel those arms around her, to have those eyes look at her with such intense passion and need. Because there was a real honest depth to him, and emotion too—hadn’t she just seen him so tender with his sister? He was so different to anyone she’d ever known.

And, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking, he stopped, his hand on her arm, backed her against a wall. ‘Don’t look at me like that.’

‘Like what?’

‘The way you did last night. The way you did last week. Like you want me to kiss you.’

She held his gaze for a heartbeat. Two. Three. And fought the battle inside her to reach out to him and draw him closer. He was, once again, reluctant to give anything away, but his eyes were heated with the growing tension, the fire that had been simmering between them that just would not go out.

‘Would that be such a bad thing? Right now? Kissing?’ Oh, God, she was losing her grip on reality. She was on a street corner with the one man she should not be anywhere close to. The man who made her think things and do things against every damned rule she’d written. And almost begging him to kiss her.

‘Yes. A very bad thing. Although I would enjoy every single second.’ His thumb ran over her bottom lip, sending shivers through every single fibre in her body. ‘It would be a disaster.’

‘Why?’ And now she felt like a prize idiot, putting herself out there to him. But one of them had to be brave here. She couldn’t continue denying there was something happening between them. It was a living, breathing thing. A thing she’d tried to ignore, and which only seemed to be getting stronger, brighter.

He turned away and picked up his pace. ‘Because you’re a good person, Cassie. And there’s a lovely light in your eyes that I don’t want to destroy.’

She followed him. ‘And why would you do that?’

‘Because...I would. End of. And I don’t want to start something I can’t finish—that wouldn’t be fair.’

‘But if you know that, you can work on it. Surely?’ And why the hell she was trying to convince him to do something she knew was all kinds of wrong she didn’t know. ‘You could try.’

‘I’ve tried too many times.’ Stopping at a junction, he looked towards the end of her street but his whole body language screamed that he needed to get away—and fast. ‘Will you be okay from here? I should go.’

‘No way, José. You are not walking away from me. Crikey, you’ve kissed me twice and I know, I just know you want to do it again. And more. So what’s stopping you?’ She gripped his wrist and led him into a small communal garden flanked on four sides by rows of pale terraced mansions; it was cool and had a scent of late summer. ‘I know I’m a pain in the butt, I’m loud and I don’t know when to shut up. I’m incessantly late and massively disorganised. But those aren’t the reasons you’re fighting this. Hell—’ she looked down at his jeans, knowing that there were parts of him that could not pretend there was no attraction there ‘—I know when a guy wants me.’

‘Come on, Cassie. Don’t you have stuff you need to be doing? Filing? Ordering? Threading bits of fruit on a skewer?’

‘I’m ordering you to be honest. Or...or I won’t go to the wedding.’ She hoped he’d take it in the way it was intended, a little fun to lighten things up. And not the petulant little girl whine it came out as.

Clearly not. Running a hand across that messy mop of hair, he sighed. ‘That’s entirely up to you, of course. But then you’d miss out on a fairly nice payment and leave us all in a hell of a mess. I’ve told you what I can and can’t give you. I don’t do this relationship stuff, and I never make promises I can’t keep. Believe me, I’ve had enough false promises to last me a lifetime.’ He dragged in a breath. Let it out. ‘So I’m not going to play games with you, Cassie, but I’m not going to open every wound for you either. If that’s what you want, then you’re talking to the wrong guy. I’ve introduced you to my sister, I’ve done my bit and now I’m going home.’

And with that he turned and walked away, leaving her sitting on someone else’s lawn, the damp grass seeping through her trousers and a twist of hurt seeping through her heart.

EIGHT

‘Jack, come on.’

‘Okay. Okay.’ God only knew why he’d been convinced to do this. He’d spent the last few days holed up in the editing room, stuffy and hot and with thoughts never wholly on the job. Even working late into the night, focusing on the real things that mattered—his career, where he’d be next week, next month, next year—hadn’t been enough distraction.

Truth was, work just wasn’t enough these days.

Gritting his teeth, he followed his sister through streets thick with people wearing bright clothes and wide smiles. The air was heavy with a loud bass beat and the smoky spice smell of a distant Caribbean island. Every single person he brushed past seemed pleased to be here. Excited. Everyone swayed to a foreign rhythm that actually seemed to reverberate in his heart—a wild bouncing vibe that coaxed and cajoled and seemed to promise:
you’re going to have some fun today whether you like it or not.

And Jack didn’t.

Not least because he had no idea how to face Cassie again. He wasn’t a lay-it-on-the-line kind of man. He’d learnt to hold everything close. He’d had to. To be strong. To be independent. To survive on his own. And yet she made him want to give just a little bit of himself. And he was scared as hell as to what that might mean.

Plus, their last conversation had ended as a damp squib and he owed her. She’d given up some of her profit just to make his sister happy, when she hadn’t needed to. The least he could do was stick to his side of the deal and turn up. Bring a smile too.

‘Come on, Jack! Hurry up.’ Lizzie danced along in Callum’s arms—a waltz, a whirl, a huge grin. ‘I want to show Cassie our float as it goes by. If we can get there in time.’

‘She’s probably not even set-up yet. Or in chaos. Or forgotten. She’ll definitely be running late. You don’t know her like I do.’ Did he know her? Really? Deeply? Enough to be able to make more than a passing observation of her business skills—and the fact she was a damned fine kisser; not much more, really.

But his feet were moving quickly through the slow-paced crowd. There were people as far as he could see, stretching behind him up the road into the distance and in front, down to the Tube station and beyond, lining the pavements, cheering from balconies and roofs, clapping and singing as parades of children dressed in feathers and frills and hoops and bows gyrated and danced down the street. And everywhere that whistle sound that gave him half elation, half heartache.

There was a chance they wouldn’t find her in the crush. But the moment his skin prickled and his head was turning to the right he saw her face—as if his body had some kind of Cassie-guided missile.

Surprisingly, her Sweet Treats stall was way more sophisticated than he’d imagined. Impressive, really: a huge awning in bold colours with a multi-burner grill stacked high with corn, sizzling meat on skewers—she clearly had a thing about those—and some bread wrap thing called roti, if the sign was anything to go by. His mouth watered, not helped by the moment he caught full view of her.

Her hair was in its usual scraped-back style, showing that creamy pale skin, freckles and big soft eyes to their best advantage. She wore a tight T-shirt with a vintage guitar emblem on it and the shortest of short knitted skirts in navy blue with a red trim. He caught a glimpse of her long shapely legs before she wrapped an apron round her waist—no sexy devil this time; it was just a simple professional navy and white stripe covering that gorgeous body.

And she was laughing. Her head tipped back, perfect white teeth revealed by her luscious mouth. Whoever the man was that was making her laugh, Jack wanted to immediately stamp on him. But then, he’d walked away from her more than once. Rejected what could have been a sensational experience. Rejected her. So he had no claims on who she spoke to or what she did.

As she caught his gaze her laughter stopped, she shrugged her hands into her apron pockets and did not look him directly in the eye. Considering it was a hot summer’s day, it had suddenly got mighty cold. ‘Jack. Hello.’

‘Hey.’ He needed to put that smile right back. ‘This is looking great. How’s business?’

And he was going to achieve a smile with that? Yeah, right.

‘Selling a bomb, like always. I can’t keep up with demand, so it’s good you’re all here. We have serious work to do.’ She turned back to Lizzie and Callum, gave them both a hug and found them an apron each. She began a rundown of expectations and prices. Halfway through the talk, she thrust an apron into Jack’s hand. ‘See that box of corn there? I need you to shuck all the husks off into the bin, then rinse them through in that bucket if they need it. When you’re done, we can put them on the grill.’

Looking at the huge box, his heart dropped. ‘So this is what? My kitchen nightmare? Punishment by husk?’

‘Punishment? I don’t know what you mean. You offered to help and this is what I need doing. Callum and Lizzie are serving so I need a pair of hands back here.’ But a smile played along those lips. Yeah. Punishment.

And, looking at that sweet butt, he had his own very clear idea about what his hands could be doing instead. Need slammed through him again as memories of how she’d tasted, how she’d felt in his arms bombarded his brain. He felt hostage, somehow, to her penetrative gaze that saw beyond everything he wanted to show her. To the knowledge she was troubled by something that was not her fault. That he could help her, and that she would never, ever allow him to. That she would bumble along in some sort of crazy mayhem, causing herself way more stress than she needed rather than accept anything more than a little help in exchange for a good deed.

‘Look, there’s my float!’ Lizzie jumped up and down and pointed to a magnificent purple bird on the front of a lorry, its rich golden feathers stretched high into the air with tips like flames. In the open-backed truck a dozen or so small children wore headdresses, tops and trousers in a shimmering gold, and they beat steel drums in a steady pulse.

Cassie put her hand to her mouth as her eyes shone in admiration. ‘Wow. That’s amazing. Beautiful.’

Lizzie nodded. ‘I’m so glad it worked out okay; I was a little concerned it might be a wreck. It’s supposed to be a phoenix—I hope you can tell. Rising again, and all that. The school’s just been saved from closure—it seemed fitting.’ Lizzie ran into the group behind the float and began laughing and chatting and dancing.

Cassie watched and smiled, looking as if she was aching to join them. ‘She’s very talented. It’s beautiful.’

Jack could barely find words. His sister had done that? ‘First time I’ve seen her artwork in a long time. You’re right; she is talented. Guess she isn’t fourteen any more. She’s a whole grown-up woman.’

‘Is that a surprise?’

‘It’s a miracle. There was a time...’ Boy, he didn’t know why he was saying this to Cassie, as memories of finding his sister so limp and lifeless rolled back and clogged his chest. So he stopped. Tried to think of something else to say but couldn’t. A small part of him wanted to tell her about his past, but there was no point dredging up a whole host of stuff he didn’t want to remember.

It had taken him long enough to put it all behind him. But there Lizzie was, dancing and vibrant and alive. Getting married. All grown-up. Perhaps she had begun to heal. His chest tightened some more.

Cassie’s hand was on his, warm and small but comforting. ‘I saw the scars, Jack.’

Not the internal ones, and they were the hardest to deal with. Lizzie had dealt with it all in a different way to him. She’d released her rage and her grief and wore her scars like a badge of honour. She’d survived. He, on the other hand, had internalised everything, subsumed it to a tight, hard knot. He breathed out slowly. ‘Yes, well, it was a long time ago. She’s come a long way.’

And sometimes he felt as if he was stuck in the Dark Ages.

Cassie flipped a roti bread stuffed with spiced chicken and vegetables on the grill; it seemed that she didn’t want to push him any further. For that, he was grateful. She looked back at the bird float as it disappeared down the street, strands of her high ponytail catching the sun and glinting fiery red. ‘I like the idea of the phoenix; I guess we could all do with some second chances.’

Jack threw what felt like his three hundredth corn cob onto the fire. ‘Does that mean I can get a promotion?’
Or more? A second chance?

Which was a crazy notion. He was here for the day, then out again. But, given the wild thoughts he was having about her—scorching, out of control and, God help him, tender—in all honesty, he shouldn’t be here at all.

She hit him on the backside with her tongs. ‘Never in your wildest dreams, Brennan. You have to show me what you’re made of before I even consider giving you anything more responsible to do.’

He laughed. ‘You drive a heck of a hard bargain.’

‘Yes.’ Her shoulders clipped back and she gave him a faux evil stare before joining in the laughter. ‘I like to think so.’

* * *

An hour later and he’d been promoted to grill chef. A hot and very demanding job way beyond his comfort level, which involved making sure things cooked through properly but didn’t burn—it was a close-run thing. But he was near Cassie, and watching her work around a makeshift kitchen with such ease was more of a turn-on than the dancers’ pumping and grinding out on the street. Although the sexy dance moves and the sultry music, coupled with proximity to her, was making him think anything was possible—even desirable.

The beer didn’t help.

Three down and he found himself swaying to the catchy street rhythm. Him, Jack Brennan, who spent his life on the periphery of people, looked out at the smiling, dancing mass and envied them. Worse, he wanted to be like them. Just for a moment, to have that carefree spirit that seemed so out of reach. Today he didn’t have the camera to hide behind, and that made him feel exposed, but strangely liberated.

Cassie came to stand next to him and did a little two-step dance move between waves to the crowd. ‘Looks like you’re enjoying yourself. Think I’ll have to find you another job to remedy that. Now, what do I have that’s really dirty? Messy? Stinky?’

‘So, up to my armpits in corn husks or burning my butt off here isn’t enough payback?’

‘Payback? For what?’ Her eyelashes fluttered. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Last week?’

‘Jack, you were being honest. And I appreciate that. I just wanted a little...more from you, by way of an explanation. But you don’t owe me anything—I get that. I really do. Oh, there’s Martha. Martha!’ Thrusting tongs into his hand, she ran out to speak to a woman dressed in very high silver heels, a huge pink feather headdress and a very small glittery bikini. After a couple of minutes the woman had taken Cassie’s hands in hers and was twisting her back and forth in a samba-type dance move. Cassie was woefully bad, but she didn’t seem to care, losing herself in the music, her body swaying back and forth, and always, always with that smile. It wasn’t that she couldn’t dance. It was more that she didn’t take herself seriously.

Whether that was to hide her embarrassment, he didn’t know. But she did it with humour and the enthusiasm she seemed to inject into every part of her life. She was mesmerising to watch, her head tipped back, mouth open, laughing. Nothing like the sombre, sober dancing he’d done with women who wanted to press themselves against him, who moved stiffly from side to side—who saw a dance merely as a step towards bed.

The knitted skirt came to halfway down her thigh and the sight of those long legs made his heart stutter. As she moved, her T-shirt stretched across her breasts just enough to remind him of exactly what was underneath. The smooth skin, the responsive tight buds. The pull to her was like some kind of magnetic force.

‘Go on. Before you drool all over the produce,’ Lizzie whispered, taking the tongs and pushing him towards her.

‘No—’ Because he had the distinct feeling that if he touched Cassie it would be a spark to fuse wire.

Too late. With a jump, Cassie turned round and saw him, stopped short, eyes wide and disbelieving. ‘You’re dancing?’

‘I’m moving, no big deal. Besides, I asked you to dance before, at the awards dinner, and you turned me down.’

‘That’s because I was going home to work, and I don’t do stuffy men’s dances. Which is what I thought was on offer. But this—you... In the street. With people?’

It was hardly bump and grind, and definitely not twerking, but he could feel the music as if it was running through his veins. And suddenly the only thing he wanted to do was to dance with her. Maybe he had spent too long standing on the sidelines as life went by, merely observing through a camera lens, watching people have fun, watching them dance, and not enough of his time actually participating. What harm could it do?

He held out his hands.

She blinked at his outstretched fingers. ‘You want to dance, literally,
with
me?’

‘The whole world is dancing together, Cassie. In fact, we look the odd ones by not doing so. So why not?’

‘Because you confuse me. Not in a good way. Besides, I need to watch the stall.’

He confused her—heck, he confused himself. This was not what he’d intended to do, but the music, the atmosphere—Cassie—were too addictive. He wanted to hold her. To have her in his arms, share that sense of fun and smile alongside her.

And no amount of pretending he didn’t was going to cut it. Yeah, she was like an addiction. One that had kept him awake at night, just waiting for the next time he’d see her. One more. One more. And going cold turkey hadn’t helped—if anything, it had made things worse.

If he’d thought he was out of his comfort zone before then, hell, this was the worst place he’d ever been. And the best. ‘There’s hardly any food left and Lizzie and Callum have it all under control. Look.’ He waved over to his sister and soon-to-be brother-in-law, dishing up the last of the roti and kebabs. ‘We just need to pack up. They can make a start.’

A shadow fell across her face. ‘But the money...my things. I can’t just leave.’

‘Hush.’ He took her hand and felt the electricity pass between them. His heart pounded in anticipation. Every part of him strained for her. ‘They’ll look after it.’