It Was Only a Kiss (4 page)

‘I know that, but none of them are me. I’ve lived here, I’ve worked here, and I’ve always felt a connection to St Sylve. I can use that to create something special for you.’

She sounded sincere, Luke thought, but what did he know? He had vast experience of women—of people—turning sincerity on and off like a tap. Besides, he was tired and stressed and felt as if he’d been hit over the head by a two-by-four. ‘Just go away, Jess.’

She lifted her chin and held his stare. ‘No. Sorry, but, no. I
will
get the market research report and I
will
draw up a campaign for you. I don’t care if you think I’m pushy or bossy or a pain in the butt—that is what is going to happen.’

Luke felt his temper bubble. ‘Nothing has changed with you, has it? You’re still over-confident and cocky—’

Jess hopped off the car, teetered on her heels and slapped her hand against his chest. Luke felt as if she’d branded him. He could see the pulse jumping at the base of her neck and noticed that her eyes had turned darker with...could that be embarrassment? Her obvious discomfort had his temper retreating.

‘Can you be quiet for just a minute while I get this out?’ Jess asked, her voice vibrating.

She seemed unaware that her hand was still on his chest, and although he lifted his hand to remove it, he didn’t manage to complete the action. He rather liked her touching him...

Jess took a deep breath and raked tumbling hair back from her face with her other hand. ‘I suck at apologising, so this might not come out right. But I’m really, really sorry for being so rude and revolting. I had no right to say the things I said to you, and you were right to fire me...in fact you did me a huge favour. I was intolerably cheeky and I’d really appreciate it if you accepted my apology.’

Huh? What? Luke frowned at her. That wasn’t what he’d expected her to say...

‘Are you apologising?’ He just had to make sure. He’d had a tough couple of weeks. Maybe the stress was getting to him and he’d started imagining things.

Or maybe he just wanted to hear the words again.

Jess closed her eyes. ‘Please don’t make me say it again,’ she begged. ‘Once is embarrassing enough.’

Luke blew out his breath. ‘What am I supposed to say to that?’ he grumbled.

Jess made a sound that was a cross between a snort and a laugh.

‘That you forgive me?’ she suggested. ‘That you’ll let me design you a campaign that will sell an enormous amount of wine? That was an interesting briefing session, by the way. Short and—’

‘Sweet?’

Jess’s smile flashed. ‘Just short. So? Can I?’

Luke, momentarily distracted by the tiny dimple that flashed in her cheek when she smiled, gathered his thoughts and told himself to be an adult. He couldn’t just give her the campaign because she had a smile that made his belly clench, a body that begged to be touched and eyes he could drown in. Then again, it was
his
vineyard...

Get a grip, Savage.

‘You can put in a tender for the job, along with everyone else.’ Luke lifted up his hand when he saw Jess’s face brighten. His next words were as much a warning to himself as they were to her. ‘I’m not promising you a thing, Sherwood.’

Jess slowly nodded. ‘Understood. Thank you. You won’t regret this.’

Luke knew that on some level, at some time, he would.

Jess sent him a smile and a look that made his insides squirm with lust and, admittedly, fear.

‘So, since I’m no longer trying to avoid you, and since I’m assuming that I’m not about to be tossed off the premises, I think I’ll join the tour. Reacquaint myself with St Sylve.’

Luke, not keen to be inundated with questions from the rest of the suits but also not willing—
why?
—to leave Jess just yet, said, ‘I’ll walk you back to the cellar.’

‘You don’t have to,’ Jess replied quickly. ‘Besides, I was going to take the long route back—through the gardens and past the stables.’

Luke frowned. ‘What on earth for?’

Jess lifted her shoulder. ‘I have an idea for the campaign but I need to get a sense of St Sylve as it is now, not how I remember it.’

Luke lifted his eyebrows and looked at her sexy dress and ridiculous heels. ‘You want to walk in those shoes? That dress?’

Jess held out a foot and rotated it. ‘What’s wrong with my shoes? They’re gorgeous.’

‘But totally impractical for walking in—especially on farm roads. Take the path back, Jess.’

He could see her spine stiffening and her chin lifting. ‘Thanks, but I’ll take the circuitous route.’

Luke suppressed his smile at her stubbornness. Within twenty-five metres those spiky heels would be stuck in mud and her stockings would be flecked with dirt.

He gave Jess another up-and-down look and watched for her response. Her expression remained stoic while her eyes heated. He wondered what it would take to get her to lose the mask of sophistication she’d acquired.

He spoke casually. ‘Do you ever think about what we did the last time we met?’

He didn’t need to spell it out...she was a smart girl. Luke watched carefully and saw her composure slip for a fraction of a second, before her lips firmed and her eyes narrowed.

‘No. Do you?’

‘No,’ Luke replied.

My, my, my,
Luke thought as she walked away.
Look what good liars we’ve become.

* * *

Jess, sitting on a hard seat at the airport, waiting for her flight to be called, looked at her shoes and grimaced. Once black, they were now streaked with reddish-brown mud and, she was certain, were beyond repair. Her stockings were splattered with runny sludge and dirty water. Her feet were aching from negotiating the uneven roads and paths at St Sylve in two-inch spikes and her toes had long since said goodbye to any feeling.

Damn Luke Savage for being right.

Jess felt her mobile vibrate in her hand and squinted down at the screen, where a message was displayed from the Sherwood family group.

John: Just to let you bunch of losers know that I ran 5K today in 24:30. Eat my dust, girls.

Jess had barely finished reading the message when a reply was posted.

Patrick: For an old guy, that’s pretty good. But I run sub 24 routinely.

And they were off...

Chris: Liar! Your last race time was 30 mins plus.

Patrick: I had a stomach bug.

Nick: Prove it, squirt. You run like a girl. Even the Shrimp can take you down!

Patrick: I was sick! And Jess couldn’t catch me with wings strapped to her back...

Jess, being the Shrimp and a girl, took offence at that. She was often faster than Patrick over five kilometres.

Jess: Hey, brainless...name the time and place and be prepared to watch my butt the whole way!

John: What are the stakes?

Jess wrinkled her nose. The last bet she’d lost to her brothers had ended up in her doing Chris’s tax return. Maybe she hadn’t thought this through.

Nick: A weekend cleaning out the monkey enclosure at the rehab centre for the loser.

Chris: Good one!

Eeew,
thought Jess.

John: Hand-washing our rugby kit after practice.

Double
eeew.

Liza AKA Mom: Now, now, children...play nice. Mommy’s listening. And the loser will replace all the washers on my leaky taps. And they will not pay anyone to do this!

Jess twisted her lips. Unfortunately for her she knew how to wield a monkey wrench and thus would not be excused on account of gender. This was just another instance when she deeply regretted being a tomboy for most of her life.

And, really, when was she going to grow out of this absurd compulsion to prove that she was as big and as strong and as capable as her four older brothers? As a child she’d thought it deeply unfair that she’d been born a girl, and had decided early on that anything they could do she wanted to do better. So she’d studied hard and played harder in an effort to keep up with her siblings...and still always felt that she was on the outside of their ‘brother circle’ looking in. They were good-looking, charming, sporty and successful—a very annoying bunch of over-achievers... She thought that Luke would fit in very well with them.

The bet was madness, Jess thought, frowning at her feet and wondering how to get out of it. And as for her gorgeous shoes...they were history.

THREE

Jess’s thin heels made tiny square marks in the thick carpet of the passage outside the smallest conference room at the hotel where Luke had chosen to view the various campaign presentations. She was scheduled to present last, and was getting more and more nervous. Realising that her hands were slick with perspiration, she hustled off to the closest bathroom to wash her hands and check her face.
Again.

She was being ludicrous, she decided, drying her hands for the third time in twenty minutes. Since her
contretemps
with Luke eight years ago she’d always been nervous before presentations, but no one besides Ally ever knew it. She appeared to be ice-cool and confident, unflappable, but underneath her façade her heart misfired and her brain spluttered.

Jess slicked on another layer of lipstick and smoothed down her scarlet mid-thigh-length jacket. The bottom of her short black pencil skirt just peeked out under the hem, and she wore a black silk polo-neck jersey underneath. With sheer black stockings and knee-high boots, the outfit was dramatic and eye-catching, and not what she’d usually wear to pitch for a job.

But if this was the last time she’d see Luke Savage then she’d damn well make sure that she made a lasting impression.

Ally stuck her head around the door to the Ladies’. ‘Jess, it’s time.’

Jess walked out of the Ladies’ and was grateful for Ally’s steadying hand on her back, unaware that she was biting the inside of her lip. ‘Let’s knock their socks off.’

‘Okay...but maybe you should take a deep breath first...’

‘Why?’ Jess asked, picking up her laptop and boards.

‘Your knees are knocking together.’ Ally reached into her bag and pulled out a small bottle of Rescue Remedy. ‘Open up.’

‘Ally!’ Jess muttered, but she obediently stuck out her tongue as Ally shook the foul-tasting drops into her mouth.

The door behind them opened and Jess’s eyes slid over. She winced as Luke stepped out of the conference room.

‘Hi—’ He stopped suddenly and Jess yanked her tongue in. Could she feel any more stupid?

‘What on earth are you doing?’ Luke demanded, his hands in the pockets of his smart black pants. Jess noticed his button-down cream shirt with its discreet, expensive logo and sighed at how good he looked.

Mr Savage cleaned up very, very well indeed.

‘Nothing,’ Jess muttered.

‘Rescue Remedy,’ Ally said at the same time. ‘Jess tends to get a bit nervous before presentations.’

‘Alison!’

Luke smiled at Jess and her stomach flipped over. ‘I would never have guessed. Jess doesn’t seem to be the gets-nervous type.’ Luke held out his hand to Alison. ‘Luke Savage.’

‘Ally Davies.’ Ally shook his hand.

‘How nervous?’ Luke asked, and Jess willed Ally not to be her normal open, brutally honest self.

‘Very. Her knees are knocking together and her hands are shaking.’

‘Will you stop?’ Jess demanded. ‘Jeez, Alison! He’s a client.’

‘Relax, Jess, there’s no need to torture such pretty knees.’ Luke sent her another of his slow, sexy smiles that were guaranteed to melt the panties off any female between eighteen and eighty. It was the smile she intended to use to launch his campaign. She was under no illusions. It was going to be tough to sell it to him...

‘And I like the skirt you’re almost wearing, Sherwood,’ Luke added.

‘Oh, shut up!’ Jess told him before sailing into the room, her nose up in the air.

Great start, Jess, telling your prospective client to put a cork in it. Not.

* * *

Jess ended her presentation and caught herself biting the inside of her lip in the resultant heavily pregnant silence. She felt her heart thumping in her chest and wondered if the St Sylve contingency could hear it.

Thump, thump, kadoosh. Thump, thump...
Oh, the
kadoosh
happened every time she looked at Luke; it was, Jess realised, her heart bouncing off the floor.

Well, okay, then. Good to know. Better if she knew how to make it
stop
.

Luke looked utterly inscrutable and non-committal—especially for somebody who, as she’d suggested, should be the new face of St Sylve wines. Did they love it? Hate it? Think that she’d not only crossed the line but redrawn it as well? Jess just wished they’d say something—
anything
!

About a million years later—okay, ten seconds, but it felt that long—Luke sat forward and rested his arms on the table. His eyes sliced through her.

‘Let me get this straight... You want me to be the face of St Sylve?’

Jess nodded. ‘Not just the face of St Sylve. I want the consumer to associate you and St Sylve with fun. Hip and cool, yet sophisticated. The plan isn’t to sell your wine. It’s to sell your life.’

Now Luke looked thoroughly puzzled. ‘I don’t have a life, Jessica! I work and that’s about it!’

‘The consumer doesn’t know that, Luke. He sees you as this young, single, good-looking—’
smoking hot
, but she couldn’t say that ‘—rich guy who has the world at his feet. He does hip and cool things...like parasailing, dancing, mountain-climbing. He plays touch rugby with his mates, has friends around for dinner, attends balls. And it’s all done with, or followed by, a glass of wine. St Sylve wine.’

‘I love it,’ Kendall said. ‘I think it’s brilliant.’

Jess flashed him a grateful smile.

‘I like the idea, but I don’t like the idea of me doing it. Why can’t you get a model to...model?’ Luke demanded.

‘It would have a bigger impact if the owner of the winery appeared in the adverts and, frankly—’ Jess took a deep breath ‘—why would you want to spend a shedload of cash on a model when you are attractive enough to do it yourself?’

And I managed to say that without blushing or drooling,
Jess thought.

‘I’m really liking this,’ Kendall stated.

‘Actually, so am I,’ Owen agreed, but Jess noticed that he wasn’t looking at her but at Ally. Okay, so that was interesting. Jess swivelled her head. Ally was
so
looking back, the flirt!

Luke stood up abruptly. ‘Thanks, everybody. It’s been a long day. Let’s sleep on it and meet on Monday to make a decision. Jess, if you’d wait, I’d like a moment of your time?’

Now
he wants a moment,
Jess thought. He’s had three weeks. She looked at Luke, who was writing on her presentation booklet. Then again, it was probably about work.

She was acting like a lonely, lovelorn teenager. She was, it was embarrassing to admit, an utter drip.

* * *

Luke waited until the last person had left the room and the door had snicked closed behind them before walking around the table to the top of the room, where Jess was still standing by the projector screen, a laser pointer in her hand. He sat on the edge of the boardroom table and stretched out his legs. Jess seemed to get better-looking each time he saw her, he thought idly. She’d done something to her hair—there were now pale blonde streaks in the honey colour. It was also brutally straight today. He preferred it loose and curly...

Luke scratched his forehead, thinking that he was too far gone if he was wasting time noticing the details of a woman’s hair. Which was chilling on a dozen different levels.

He was impressed with her presentation, her professionalism; no one would have guessed that this slick, cool businesswoman suffered from performance anxiety. He wouldn’t have guessed it if he hadn’t seen her sticking her tongue out for those drops. The entire episode made her seem not quite so aloof, a little warmer, a lot more human. Infinitely attractive.

‘Um...what do you really think about my idea?’ Jess asked, and he could hear a quiver underneath her professional tone of voice.

‘I like it—apart from me being in the ads.’

‘I should also tell you that I think you should start getting out, promoting the St Sylve name and its wine. I would strongly suggest that you go out more...social events, parties, balls...and that you host wine-tasting evenings and start networking.’

‘Why don’t you just take my internal organs? It would be easier.’ Luke rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Do you have an extra twenty-four hours in the day for me?’

‘It’s important, Luke.’

‘I don’t have the time, Jess. I’m working at St Sylve. I get home from the land and then I spend hours on business plans, financing... I’m running my other businesses at night. I don’t have the time for advertising shoots, let alone for a social life.’

‘Then I think you should be prepared to keep ploughing your own money into St Sylve or to lose it,’ Jess told him bluntly. ‘You need the wines to sell to get St Sylve sustainable, and to do that you need sales—for sales you need advertising.’

‘Then why must I do the social stuff?’

‘Because you need to be seen to be living the campaign or else the consumers won’t believe in it.’ Jess perched on the edge of the conference table and crossed her legs. ‘Step out of your comfort zone, Luke.’

Comfort zone? He hadn’t felt remotely comfortable since he’d set eyes on her again weeks ago.

Luke eyed her long legs in those sexy boots and felt his groin twitch.
Dammit!
He didn’t like not being able to control his physical reaction to this woman, the fact that he thought about her far too often. And he especially didn’t like the fact that she could talk so coolly about business when he was imagining her naked except for those boots, at the mercy of his touch...

‘If I agree to hire you, and by doing so agree to any and all of your proposals,’ he said in a voice that most of his staff and friends would recognise as non-negotiable, ‘then I have a couple of conditions of my own.’

‘Okay—what?’

‘
You
work on the campaign. No passing it off to your flunkies.’

‘Understood. I had no intention of doing that anyway.’

‘And I want St Sylve to have your undivided attention. You move to St Sylve for however long it takes to get this wrapped up. Get out of
your
comfort zone.’

He saw the look of shock that flicked across her face. ‘That’s not practical, Luke. I have a business to run.’

‘Skype, e-mail and phone. We live in the twenty-first century, Jess. Besides, Ally looks competent enough to take the reins.’

‘She is, but—’

‘And you also organise the networking. I don’t have the time or the inclination and I have even less enthusiasm. And you accompany me to all these functions. If I have to do it, then so do you,’ Luke told her.

‘So, are you saying I’ve got the job?’

‘Yep.’

Of course she had the job—was she mad? Hers was above and beyond the most exciting presentation of them all, and while the others wouldn’t need his time, presence or input, they wouldn’t have the effect Jess’s would.

‘Uh...good,’ Jess said in a strangled voice. ‘But I don’t know if I’m going to manage living in Franschoek. I have a life, apart from my business, in Sandton.’

Luke shook his head. No, she didn’t. She was as much a workaholic as him. ‘Stop hedging. And you’re not staying in Franschoek—you’re staying at St Sylve.’

Jess thrust out her stubborn chin. ‘I won’t feel comfortable staying with you, in your house.’

‘Why not?’

Jess rolled her eyes. ‘Are you really going to be all coy and not acknowledge the...’

Luke lifted his eyebrows when she stuttered to a stop. ‘Lust? Heat? Passion?’ he suggested.

‘Heat...stick to heat,’ Jess suggested, her eyes everywhere but meeting his.

Luke grinned internally; it amazed him that she could be so businesslike about—well,
business
, but get so flustered when talking about their mutual attraction.

‘Now who’s being coy?’ Luke muttered. ‘Okay, you can stay in any one of the six bedrooms at the manor house.’

Luke stepped closer—so close he could almost feel her breasts against his chest, smell the citrus in her hair. Those amazingly long lashes fluttered and lifted and he felt the zing of attraction arc between them. In that age-old subconscious display of attraction her mouth opened, and he nearly lost control when he saw the tip of her pink tongue flicker at the corner of her mouth. Stuff the marketing strategy and St Sylve. Stuff the world...Jess was here and he wanted her.

Her body, not her mind...

Luke jerked his head up and quietly cursed. And what was he doing? Acting on what was happening in his pants.
Catch a clue, Savage.
He wasn’t fifteen any more, or even twenty, but he was still listening to his libido. He’d realised a while back that it was a very bad judge of character, time and situation, and it had the ability to lead him into deep trouble.

Luke stepped away from Jess, but couldn’t resist tucking a long, straight strand of hair behind her ear. ‘Don’t disappoint me, Jess.’

‘I don’t intend to,’ she replied in her husky, take-me-to-bed voice.

Jess finally looked him in the eye and he couldn’t help himself; his thumb drifted across her bottom lip. ‘You have the most kissable mouth I’ve ever seen.’

He saw sense and sensibility flow back into Jess’s eyes—her mental retreat. A cool, polite mask dropped into place.

‘Not a good idea, Luke. Any physical intimacy could blow up in our faces.’

‘We should be smart enough to separate the two.’

Her shoulders came up and her spine stiffened at his challenge. ‘Theoretically I’m smart enough—anybody is smart enough—to solve string theory, but that doesn’t mean I can. Or will.’

‘We have unfinished business, Jessica. You know it and I know it; we both want to finish what we started eight years ago.’ Luke moved the backs of his fingers down her cheek.

Jess’s eyes remained passionate even as she nudged his hand away. ‘Luke, let me make it very clear that I don’t do casual sex—especially not with colleagues, competitors or clients.’

He loved the snap he heard in her voice, the passion that slumbered in her eyes. The contradiction of the two had his heart in his throat and his groin twitching. This was going to be interesting, he thought, amused and still very turned on. She might be flustered but she wasn’t intimidated, and she didn’t back down.