His Christmas Acquisition (3 page)

She couldn’t look at him. She just couldn’t. She didn’t understand what had happened back there but she was shaking inside. Not even the thought of Jessica could distract her from the moment. And she was horribly aware that he was staring at her, thinking that she was over-reacting, behaving like a mad woman when all he had done was to try and understand why she had been acting out of character.

She worked for him, and as her boss he had seen it as his civic duty to protect her from possible discomfort in her working environment, and what had she done in response? Acted like an outraged spinster in the company of a lech. She was mortified.

And then she had
stared
at him. Had he noticed? He noticed everything when it came to women and the last thing she needed was for him to think that she saw him as anything other than her boss, a man whom she respected but would always keep at arm’s length.

‘I’ve left those reports you asked me to do on your desk in descending order of priority,’ she said crisply. ‘Your meeting at ten tomorrow’s been cancelled. I’ve rearranged it and you should have the new date updated onto your phone. So …’

‘So, you can run along and nurse your stress in private,’ Ryan drawled.

‘I will.’

But she spent the entire journey back to her house dwelling on the tone of his voice as he had said that. She wondered what he was thinking of her. She didn’t want to, but she did.

The barrier she had imposed that clearly defined both their roles felt as though it was crumbling around her like a flimsy pack of cards, and all because he had happened to catch her in a vulnerable moment.

Thanks to Jessica.

It was pitch-black and bitterly cold as she walked from the Underground station to her house. London was in a grip of the worst winter weather for twelve years. Predictions were for a white Christmas, although it had yet to snow.

In her house, however, the lights were on. All of them. Jamie sighed and reflected that, on the bright side, at least Jessica had managed to locate the key in its secret hiding spot under the flower pot at the side of the house. At least she had made it down to London from Edinburgh safe and sound, even if she brought with her the promise of yet more stress.

‘B
UT
you don’t
understand
…’

Jamie took time out from loading the dishwasher to glance round at her sister, who was wandering in a sulky fashion around the kitchen, occasionally stopping to pick something up and inspect it with a mixture of boredom and disdain. Nothing in the house was to her taste; she had made that very clear within the first few minutes of Jamie pushing open the front door and walking in.

The place, she’d announced, was poky. ‘Couldn’t you have found something a little more comfortable? I mean, I know Mum didn’t leave us with much, but honestly, Jamie!’ The furnishings were drab. There was no healthy stuff in the fridge to eat and, ‘What on earth do you do for alcohol in this place? Don’t tell me that you while away your evenings with a cup of cocoa and a good book for company?’

Jamie was accustomed to the casual insults, although it had been so long since she had actually set eyes on her sister that she had forgotten just how grating they could be after a while.

Their father had died when Jamie was six and Jessica still a three-year-old toddler and they had been raised by their mother. Jamie had been a bookworm at school, always studying, always mentally moving forward, planning to go to university. She left Jessica to be the one who curled her
hair and painted her fingernails and, even at the age of thirteen, develop the kind of wiles that would stand her in very good stead with the opposite sex.

Jamie had never made it to university. At barely nineteen she had found herself first caring for her mother—who, after a routine operation, had contracted MRSA and failed to recover—then, when Gloria had died, taking on the responsibility of looking after her sixteen-year-old sister. Without Jamie even noticing, Jessica had moved from a precocious pre-teen to a nightmare of a teenager. Where Jamie had inherited her father’s dark looks and chosen to retreat into the world of literature and books, Jessica had been blessed with their mother’s striking blonde looks. Far from retreating anywhere, she had shown a gritty determination to flaunt as much of herself as was humanly possible.

A still-grieving Jamie had suddenly been catapulted into the role of caretaker to a teenager who was almost completely out of control.

What else could she have done? Gloria had begged her to make sure to keep an eye on Jessica, to look after her, ‘Because you
know
what she can be like—she needs a firm hand …’

Jamie often wondered how it was that she hadn’t turned prematurely grey from the stress of it.

And now, after all that muddy water under the bridge, stuff she still could hardly bear to think about, here was Jessica, back on the scene again, as stunning as ever—more, if that was possible—and already making Jamie grit her teeth in pointless frustration.

‘I understand that you have responsibilities, Jess, and they may be getting to you but you can’t run away from them.’ Jamie slammed shut the dishwasher door with undue force and wiped her hands on a tea towel.

Dinner had been a bowl of home-cooked pasta with
chicken and mushrooms. Jessica had made a face and flatly refused to eat any of the pasta because she was off carbs.

‘It’s all right for you!’ Jessica snapped, scooping up her poker-straight blonde hair into a ponytail before releasing it so that it fell in a heavy, silky curtain halfway down her back. ‘
You
don’t have to deal with a bloody husband who works all the hours God made and expects me to be sitting around with a smile pinned to my face, waiting for him to return for a nice hot meal and a back massage! Like some kind of creepy Stepford wife.’

‘You
could
get a job.’

‘I
got
a job. I got eight jobs! It’s not my fault if none of them suited me. Besides, what’s the point me going out to work for a pittance when Greg earns so much?’

Jamie didn’t say anything. She didn’t want to think about Greg. Thinking about Greg had always been a downhill road. Once upon a time he had been her boss. Once upon a time she had fancied herself in love with him—a secret, pleasurable yearning that had filled her days with sunlight and made the burden of looking out for her younger sister more bearable. Once upon a time she had actually been stupid enough to think that he would wake up one day and realise that he cared for her in the same way she cared for him. Unfortunately, he had met Jessica and it had been love at first sight.

‘Have you thought about volunteer work?’ she offered, fed up.

‘Oh, purr … leese! Can you
really
see me doing anything like that, Jamie? Working in a soup kitchen in Edinburgh? Or arranging flowers in the local parish church and doing fund raisers with the old biddies?’

She had dragged one of the chairs over and was sitting with her long legs propped up on the chair in front of her
so that she could inspect her toenails which were painted a vibrant shade of pink.

‘I’m bored,’ she said flatly. ‘I’m bored and I’m fed up and I want a life. I’m too young to be buried in the outskirts of Edinburgh where it rains all the time,
when
it’s not snowing, hanging around for Greg, who only cares about sick animals anyway. Did you know he’s got a fan club? The dishiest vet in town—it’s pathetic!’

Jamie turned away and briefly squeezed her eyes tightly shut. It had been years since she had last seen Greg but she remembered him as clearly as if it had been yesterday. His kind face, the way his grey eyes crinkled when he smiled, his floppy blond hair through which he constantly ran his fingers.

The thought of her sister being bored with him filled her with terror. In the end, Greg had been her salvation. He had taken over the business of worrying about Jessica. Jessica might not need him, but she, Jamie, most definitely did!

‘He’s crazy about you, Jess.’

‘Loads of guys could be crazy about me.’

Jamie felt her body go cold. ‘What does that mean? Have you? You’re not doing anything stupid, are you?’

‘Oh, don’t be such a prude.’ But she sighed and leaned back against the chair, letting her head flop over the back so that she was staring glassy-eyed up at the ceiling. ‘No, I’m not doing anything
stupid
, if by that you’re asking me whether I’m having an affair. But the way I feel …’

She allowed that possibility to take shape between them and it was all Jamie could do not to slap her sister. However, years of ingrained caretaking papered over the passing temptation. This, she felt, was a subject best left alone in the hope that it might just go away. She was busy wondering what topic she could choose that might be safer when the doorbell rang.

‘Someone flogging something,’ she muttered, relieved for the distraction. ‘Please, Jess, just give Greg a call. He must be worried sick about you.’

She left the kitchen to a disgruntled Jessica informing her that she had no intention of doing any such thing, that he knew perfectly well where she was, just like he knew that she needed some space.

Jamie wondered how long Greg would carry on waiting while Jessica hunted around for this so-called space she was intent on finding, and she was still chewing it over in her head as she pulled open the front door.

The sight of Ryan standing on her doorstep was so shocking that for a few seconds her mind went completely blank.

He had never, ever been to her house before. Not even when they had happened to drive out of London to attend a meeting. He had never picked her up or dropped her off. She hadn’t even thought that he knew where she lived.

Eventually, her brain caught up with what her eyes were telling her, and she stopped gaping at him open-mouthed and actually croaked, ‘What are you doing here?’

‘You were stressed out. I was worried about you. I thought I’d drop by, make sure you were all right.’

‘Well, I’m fine, so I’ll see you tomorrow at work.’ Belatedly, she remembered her sister scowling in the kitchen and she stepped outside and pulled the door quietly closed behind her, taking care not to shut it completely.

‘How did you find out where I live?’ she hissed under her breath. Under the lamplight, his face was a contour of harsh shadows and his eyes glittered in the semi-darkness. He was still in his work clothes, the jeans, the faded sweater, the trainers and the coat, which she knew had cost the earth, but which he wore as casually as if he had got it from the local Oxfam shop.

‘Personnel files. It really wasn’t too difficult.’

‘Well, you have to go.’

‘You’re shaking like a leaf. It’s cold out here—let me in for a few minutes.’

‘No!’ She saw his eyebrows rise fractionally and added, stammering, ‘I mean, it’s late.’

‘It’s eight-forty-five.’

‘I’m busy.’

‘You’re on edge. Why? Tell me what’s going on.’ Ryan laughed. ‘You’re my indispensable secretary. I can’t have you storing up nasty secrets and then suddenly deciding to walk out on me, can I? What would I do without you?’

‘I … I’m obliged to give a month’s notice,’ Jamie stammered. Ryan Sheppard on her doorstep suddenly seemed to throw that all-important distance between them into confusion and she didn’t like it.

‘So you
are
thinking of leaving me. Well, it’s a damn good thing I turned up here to get the full story out of you, isn’t it? At least this way I can defend my corner.’ For some reason he felt disproportionately let down by the thought of her just dumping a letter of resignation on his desk without any forewarning and then jumping ship. ‘So, why don’t you invite me inside and we can discuss this like two adults? If it’s more money you’re after, then name the amount and it’s yours.’

‘This is crazy!’

‘I know. And I hate dealing with crazy.’ He reached out and pushed the door open just as Jessica’s petulant voice wafted from the direction of the kitchen, carolling to ask where Jamie was, because she really needed something to eat—and was there anywhere they could go for a halfway decent salad? She didn’t fancy being cooped up for the rest of the night.

And then there she was, long and beautiful and blonde, and all the things that Ryan looked for in a woman, standing
by the banister as Jamie turned around with a sigh of resignation. Stunningly pretty, stunningly fair-haired and dangerously bored with her husband.

If Jamie could have reached out and pushed Ryan straight back out of the front door, then she would have done so, but he was already inside the tiny hall, removing his thick coat while his eyes never strayed from Jessica.

‘Well, well, well,’ he drawled in a lazy undertone. ‘What have we here …?’

‘My sister,’ Jamie muttered.

The glitter in Jessica’s eyes mirrored his lazy speculation and Jamie felt a chill run down her spine.

There was no need for her to make introductions. Not when her sister was sashaying forward, hand outstretched, introducing herself—with, Jamie noted, her left hand stuck firmly behind her back.

‘You never told me that you had a sister,’ Ryan said, turning his fabulous eyes to Jamie.

Standing to one side like an uninvited spectator in her own house, Jamie’s voice was stiff when she answered, ‘I didn’t see the relevance. Jessica doesn’t live in London.’

‘Although, I might just be thinking of changing that.’

Jamie’s head whipped round and she stared, horrified at her sister. ‘You can’t!’

‘Why not? I told you. I’m bored in Scotland. And, from what I see here, London certainly has a hell of a lot more to offer. Why did you never mention that you had such a dishy boss, Jamie? Did you think that I might dash down here and try to steal him from you?’

Jamie held on to the banister, feeling faint, and Ryan, lounging only feet away from her, took the opportunity to gauge the electric atmosphere between the sisters. Arriving unannounced on his secretary’s doorstep had been a spontaneous
decision which he had begun to regret on the drive over, but now he was pleased that he had made the journey.

‘How long are you in London?’ He looked at Jessica but his mind was still on Jamie and on that ferocious wall of privacy she had erected around herself. Purpose, he thought, unknown.

‘She’s literally only here for a day or two before she returns to Scotland. She’s married and her husband will be waiting for her.’

‘Did you have to bring that up?’

‘It’s the truth, Jess. Greg’s a good guy. He doesn’t deserve this.’
And
you
certainly don’t deserve
him, she thought.

‘I’m having lots of marital problems,’ Jessica insisted to Ryan. ‘I
thought
that I could come down here and find some support from my sister, but it looks like I was wrong.’

‘That’s not fair, Jess! And, besides, I’m sure Mr Sheppard doesn’t want to stand here and listen to our family history.’

‘Please, feel free to go on. I’m all ears!’

‘You need to go.’ Jamie turned to him. Every muscle in her body felt like it had been stretched to snapping point and the ground under her feet was like quicksand. One minute she had been on solid ground and then, in the blink of an eye, her sister was on her doorstep, Ryan was in her house breaking down her fortifications just by being there, and she was struggling in quicksand. ‘And you, Jess, need to go to bed.’

‘I’m not a kid any longer!’

‘You behave like one.’ In terms of condemnation, it was the first time Jamie had ever taken such a dramatic step. She had been conditioned to look after Jessica, to treat her like a baby, to make sure that her needs were met because she, Jamie, was the stronger one, the older one, the one upon whom the responsibilities lay.

In the tense silence that followed her flat statement,
Jessica hesitated, confused, then her lips pursed and she glared sulkily at her sister.

‘You can’t make me go back up to Scotland, you know,’ she muttered.

‘We can discuss this in the morning, Jess,’ Jamie said wearily. ‘I think I’ve had enough stress today.’

‘And she
is
stressed.’ Ryan inserted himself into the conversation and Jessica sidled a little closer to him, her body language advertising her interest in a way no amount of words could have done. ‘She arrived late for work this morning.’

Jessica giggled and looked at her sister slyly. ‘If you’d told me that you were running late, I would have got off the phone sooner. I know you’re a stickler for punctuality. Don’t worry. I’ll be good as gold while I’m here, and you can be the perfect little secretary again and get in to work on time. Mind you …’ She looked at Ryan coyly. ‘If I had a boss like this one, I’d be getting in to work at six and leaving at midnight. Or maybe not leaving at all …’