Chapter 9
9
BEATRICE
The next day, I’m kept incredibly busy going from marquee to marquee outside and room to room in the house, satisfying both the crew’s and the attendees myriad – and amusingly eclectic – demands and requests. Someone needs a USB cable, someone else wants me to refrigerate some meds, another has lost a nipple ring, and I dash about like a woman possessed, sourcing and fixing and placating. But I love it. I feel useful and in control. I think I was born to do this job. I love the bustle and the challenge of it. And being away from the computer screen, which I’m normally chained to, is wonderful.
I keep catching glimpses of Jonah as I’m rushing from task to task, but he keeps his distance, seemingly giving me the space to do my job without interfering. Trouble is, every time I catch sight of him, my head goes a bit fuzzy and I forget what it is I’m meant to be doing for a moment.
Chatting to him in the library last night after he caught me singing was both wonderful – because of his compliments – and fraught with stress, as I tried to navigate his questions about me – or rather Dee and her sister – without tripping myself up and giving anything incongruous away to him. I was desperate to ask him to tell me more about himself, especially his last relationship, but I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to remember it all and then not be able to recount it to Dee in enough detail.
The heat of his body in such close proximity to mine made me feel trippy and I’d had the weirdest urge to lean in closer to him. To feel what it would be like to touch him.
Sex appeal seemed to roll off him in waves and I was acutely aware of how attractive I found him, despite his gruff, grumpy persona.
I’ve never had a physical response to a man like that before – not with my first boyfriend during sixth form or for the couple of guys I slept with during my university days. Not even with the guy I had a short but intense holiday fling with just after I graduated.
But I also knew I had to keep my distance.
For the sake of my sanity. And for Dee’s career.
Mid-afternoon, Jonah disappears and I breathe a sigh of relief that he finally seems content that things are going well here and he doesn’t need to keep popping in to check on the place.
His mere presence, even in the periphery of my vision, has been making my nerves hum with awareness.
By nine thirty in the evening, I’ve finally managed to grab a bite to eat and I’m heading back over to the library to catch the end of the cabaret before I rush back to Dee’s flat for a few hours’ sleep, to recharge, ready for it all starting again in the morning.
The room is packed with people draped across all the armchairs and sofas in there, with everyone else crammed together on the floor, like a school assembly. There’s a great atmosphere amongst the audience though, who are clearly enjoying the performances being showcased for their pleasure and there are whoops and calls of encouragement as the next act is called to the stage.
I manage to sidle my way into the room and squeeze into a tiny space next to the bookcase, gazing around me at the crowd of jazzily dressed festival-goers, who all look as if they come from another world. Another planet.
And there’s Jonah again. He must have followed me in and is leaning nonchalantly against the wall near the door, watching the proceedings with such intense concentration, I wish I could see inside his mind. What must he think of all this? It’s clearly more than he was anticipating, but so far he seems pretty cool with it.
It’s a bit concerning that he keeps turning up wherever I am though.
Just as I’m thinking this, he turns and catches my eye, raising his eyebrows and motioning with a jerk of his head for me to join him where he’s standing.
Warmth pools between my legs at the intense look in his eye. This is ridiculous. I really need to pull myself together. I absolutely cannot develop a crush on Dee’s boss.
No matter how sexy he is.
Knowing I don’t have a choice but to join him, I reluctantly leave my space by the bookcase and plot the easiest route through the crowd, which involves walking all the way around the edge of the room.
‘Everything okay?’ I ask once I’ve finally managed to pick my way through the crowd of people sitting between me and him.
‘Yeah, good. I’ve changed my mind about playing in the cabaret.’ He motions to a guitar I’d not noticed before, which is propped against the wall next to him. ‘I figured, if you’re brave enough to get up and perform in front of a bunch of strangers, then I should be too. And they seem like a friendly crowd.’
‘Oh! Right. Well, great. I’m sure it’ll be fine to add you to the running list,’ I say, a little surprised at his change of heart, especially as he seemed so against the idea when I mentioned it to him before. I’m gratified by the notion that my own performance has inspired him to get involved too.
‘And I want you to sing with me,’ he adds, with a twinkle in his eye.
My heart flips over.
‘Really?’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh.’
I’m flattered, of course, but also incredibly nervous about this request. It feels way too intimate a thing to do with him. But I can’t say no, not when he’s looking at me with such hopeful expectation.
Heat coils in my pelvis again as I stare into his eyes.
‘W-which song are you thinking about performing?’ I stutter, suddenly acutely aware of every nerve in my body standing to attention in the face of his intense charisma.
‘How about “Why Try to Change Me Now”? Do you know it? Fiona Apple did an amazing cover and your singing yesterday reminded me of her, so I think it’d suit your voice perfectly.’
‘I love that song. Yes, okay, I guess so.’ My nerves are humming hard now, but not because I’m feeling shy about standing up and singing. I’ve seen how friendly and encouraging this crowd is, so I have no qualms there.
It’s doing it with Jonah that’s the major problem. It feels like we’d be crossing a line, somehow. Which is ridiculous of course and I’m probably reading way more into his invitation to join him than I should.
It’s great that he wants to get involved with the community spirit of it though. That’s what these festivals are all about, after all.
And honestly, I’m once again warmed by his insinuation that he, a former professional musician, thinks I’m good enough of a singer to be happy to play music with me.
So after squeezing through the crowd to the person organising the event and asking if we could be added to the list – and getting an enthusiastic yes – I wind my way back and wait with Jonah for our turn, leaning against the wall next to him, barely aware of the acts being performed on the makeshift stage in front of us as I try hard to ignore his distracting presence next to me.
But it’s impossible. Jonah Jacobson is not a man you can ignore, especially when he smells as good as he does.
I’m aware of people in the crowd turning to glance over in our direction too and I could swear that the atmosphere in the room has changed. It’s now one of excited expectation.
My stomach swoops at the fear that I’ll somehow let him down. I don’t want his first foray back into performing to be wrecked by my nerves.
I mentally pull myself together. I’ll just have to do the best I can. Hopefully, everyone will be too busy watching him to notice my performance anyway.
Finally, it’s our turn.
We make our way over to the stage, nodding in appreciation of the loud applause we’re given when we’re announced as the next act. Jonah sits on a chair on the left, while I take up a position front and centre.
Luckily, I have a pretty good memory for song lyrics and the one he’s suggested is one I’ve listened to a lot. Even so, I’ve got the words up on my mobile screen as a prompt, just in case. I clutch it in my sweaty hand as I step up to the mic and wait for Jonah to start playing.
As the beautiful sound of the first chords wash over me, all the hairs on the back of my neck stand up in appreciation.
Trying not to catch anyone in audience’s eye, I start to sing and the whole room stills, everyone in it seeming to be listening intently to our performance. About half way in, I finally start to relax and enjoy myself, closing my eyes and losing myself in the joy of singing. It’s been a long time since I’ve enjoyed performing. It was only ever a hobby when I did it at school, but I always loved the adrenaline rush I got from it.
I’ve not felt that in such a long time.
When did my life become so sedate?
Being here, in the hotel and at this festival, is really bringing it home to me how small and narrow-focused my world has become after leaving university.
I push the errant thought to the back of my mind and finish the song, the melodic sound of Jonah’s guitar playing us out to silence. He really is a talented musician, his playing so confident and full of feeling. It’s an absolute travesty that he gave up his career because of not feeling like he’ll ever match up to his dad’s talent.
It’s not quiet for long after we finish the song. The roar of appreciation that builds, a few seconds after his last note fades away, is loud and enthusiastic. I turn to look at Jonah, but he’s frowning down at the floor, seemingly deep in contemplation.
After taking an awkward bow, I step off the stage, intensely aware of him following me as I make my way through the jubilant crowd, who Jonah acknowledges with a raised, appreciative hand, and out into the relative cool of the hallway.
My mouth is dry from singing, so I make straight for the kitchen and head into the deserted butler’s pantry to pour myself a glass of water from the large Belfast sink.
Jonah has followed me in and does the same, leaning back against the counter to drink it. After draining my own glass and putting it carefully down in the sink, my hands trembling a little, I finally turn to look at him, wondering what sort of expression I’m going to see on his face.
He looks back at me steadily, his gaze intent on mine. That weird connection is there again, pulsing in the air between us.
My heart thumps hard against my chest.
‘Thanks for doing that with me. I think we were a hit,’ he says, breaking the tension by turning to put his own glass next to mine. ‘It was fun performing with you,’ he says, not looking at me now.
Heat rushes to my cheeks at his compliment. ‘Good. For me too. I was pretty nervous in case I made you look bad.’
When he looks back at me, to my surprise, the corner of his mouth lifts in a grin, amusement dancing in his eyes.
My stomach does a strange, slow flip at the sight of it.
I think that’s the first time I’ve seen him smile.
‘Impossible,’ he says, with real warmth in his voice.
And I love the way it makes me feel.
My entire body is rushing with a prickly, excited heat now.
Oh, my goodness, I’m deep in the danger zone here.
I’m aware of my heart beginning to race as adrenaline and need surge through me.
What have I got myself into? This is such a fine line I’m treading. I know I need to be a little bit flirtatious with Jonah – to act more like Dee – but not be too flirtatious so I don’t move things on past where he and Dee were before her accident.
I absolutely can’t allow anything to develop between us. I mustn’t. It would put everyone in a really difficult position.
But perhaps I’m getting beyond myself here. So far, he’s been nothing but professional towards me.
Apart from mentioning an attempted kiss by Dee that one time.
I wish she’d warned me that she’d tried it on with him. But then I know why she didn’t: she was embarrassed about Jonah rejecting her advances. That doesn’t tend to happen to her.
Perhaps it had something to do with him not being over his ex-girlfriend. There’s always been a brittleness about him that speaks to him being in emotional pain. It makes my heart ache for him.
I realise I desperately want to make him smile at me again.
I’ve started to feel very differently about him, now I understand the extraordinary pressure of public interest, expectation and criticism he’s had to live with all his life, thanks to his dad’s success.
That would make anyone grumpy.
I lean my hip against the worktop and he mirrors me by doing the same, his gaze not leaving mine.
He opens his mouth, as if to speak, then shuts it again, a small frown crossing his face.
I can’t tear my eyes away from him. He’s so mesmerising to look at, with his dark, brooding gaze. So intensely sexy.
‘What is it?’ I ask, my voice shaky with nervous energy. I feel my heart pounding like mad in my chest now.
‘I was just thinking…’
There’s a long pause where he openly assesses me with his eyes and my entire body rushes with tingly heat again.
It’s anticipation. Sweet, sexy anticipation.
‘Yes?’ I prompt softly, urging him to complete his sentence.
What’s he going to tell me? Something good, I hope. Something positive.
‘I—’ He laughs softly to himself then shakes his head, his gaze flicking away from mine, as if he’s afraid his thoughts are too wild, too crazy.
‘What?’ I ask again, desperate to know what’s going on in his head.
He snaps his gaze back to mine, as if making a decision. ‘I was thinking how differently I’d react now if you tried to kiss me again.’
My heart seems to leap into my throat and I feel it pounding away there. Lust urges me forwards. To go for it. To do it. To see what would happen. But my brain tells me, No, you mustn’t. You can’t.
‘Well, I probably shouldn’t do that. We shouldn’t do it. Since we’re working together,’ I whisper, having to force the words out of my mouth. It feels like the hardest sentence I’ve ever had to say in my life.
‘No. You’re right. We shouldn’t,’ he says, but there’s no conviction in his tone. His pupils are dilated and his eyes are wide, still staring into mine, as if he can’t look away.
It’s mesmerising.
I can’t look away either.
But I have to. I must. I can’t let what I think is about to happen, happen. It wouldn’t be fair on Jonah, not when he thinks I’m Dee.
I swallow hard and force myself to look away. Take a step backwards. Take a breath.
But he takes a step towards me, closing the distance between us again and when my deceitful body refuses to move away from him and our eyes lock, he takes another step forward. Then another.
We’re so close now, I can feel the whisper of his breath on my lips. He’s staring at my mouth, the way he did the first day we met. My skin tingles all over as we stand there together, trapped in the heat of mutual longing. My heart is thumping so hard, I feel like it must be shaking my whole body with the force of it.
Oh.
His hands move to cup my hips and I draw in a needy-sounding breath at the possessiveness of his touch.
This, it seems, is the sign he’s been waiting for and before my brain can catch up, his mouth is on mine: hot and firm and purposeful.
Oh. My. God.
This feels so utterly right.
But it’s so utterly wrong.
His mouth moves possessively against mine and I allow myself to sink into the kiss for the barest of moments, my whole body rushing with heat and a deep, heavy sense of hunger.
He understandably takes this as a positive sign and deepens the kiss, sliding his tongue against mine and drawing my hips even closer to him so I can feel the hardness of his erection against my belly. The awareness that he wants me this much sends a wave of pleasure through me, which pools between my legs, making me ache to be touched more intimately there.
I can tell by the way our bodies are responding to each other that sex with Jonah would be spectacular.
Seeming to feel the same way, he lifts me up onto the counter, pressing himself between my thighs and I feel his hands move up to my breasts. He rubs his thumbs against my tight nipples, which strain against the thin material of my top and send tendrils of pleasure shooting through my entire body.
I wonder wildly for a second whether I could come from being touched like this. It certainly feels like a possibility right now.
But, deep in the sensible side of my brain, I know I have to stop this.
I have to.
But he tastes so good. So right.
Wake up to yourself, Bea!
I put the flats of my hands against his chest and with every ounce of willpower I possess, push against him, so he’s forced to take a step backwards and break the kiss.
His pupils are blown as he looks at me in pained confusion. ‘What is it? I thought you were as into this as I am. Did I read it wrong?’
‘No. Yes! I… I’m not sure.’ I can feel my cheeks burning with heat.
God, I need to pull myself together.
‘What’s going on, Dee?’
The sound of my sister’s name brings me up short and cements my decision.
I have to stop this in its tracks right now.
I slide off the counter and take a deliberate step away from him, trying to school my errant body into calming down.
‘The thing is… about that time I tried to kiss you,’ I begin, thinking fast. ‘I should explain about that. I’d, uh, twisted my ankle and was taking some strong painkillers, so I could still do my job, and they had a strange effect on me. They made me a bit, er, forward. So I really should apologise for my inappropriate behaviour while I was on them.’
‘Painkillers?’ He looks incredulous, and honestly, who can blame him. If it wasn’t for Dee’s story about her own experience the other day, I probably wouldn’t buy it as an excuse either.
‘Look, the thing is, I really want to be professional here,’ I say, hating myself for the lie. And for the pained expression on his face that’s entirely down to me. ‘I think you’re an amazing person, but I’m really serious about wanting to do a good job for you, so I don’t think we should be more than colleagues. We should keep those lines clear. I’m really sorry if I gave you the impression I wanted more.’
He rubs a hand over his hair, then shakes his head, looking up at me from behind his dark brows.
It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever witnessed. And the saddest.
‘Okay, I accept you don’t want anything to happen here and that’s obviously fine. I respect you and I’ll keep my distance from now on.’ He pauses and keeps looking at me with that dark, sexy stare. ‘But I don’t understand what’s been going on here. I’m a bit lost, Dee.’
I swallow hard, feeling like a total bitch. I’m not surprised he’s so confused about my actions when in his mind, a combination of me and Dee is actually one and the same person.
He must be starting to think I have a split personality.
Which, if I think about it, is actually bang on the money, in a way.
I’m discombobulated because this feels like it’s moved very fast to me, but of course it won’t feel like that to Jonah, because he’s known Dee for a few weeks now, so in his mind, he’s right in the middle of starting a potential relationship with her.
Ugh! What a mess.
I want to cry.
‘I’m so sorry. I never meant to make this difficult for you,’ I say, truthfully this time.
His frown stays in place while he studies me for a few moments longer, perhaps waiting to see whether I’ll change my mind again. But when I don’t say anything else and just stand there like a lemon, digging my nails into my palms, he finally gives me one last curt nod and leaves the pantry.
I watch him go, his broad shoulders tense and his head slightly dipped in what I assume is disappointment. Pushing away the surge of guilt I feel at being the harbinger of his gloom, I remind myself that Dee can fix all this once she’s back, if she wants to. He’s clearly into her, so I’m sure she’ll be able to make up a feasible excuse to get him back on side.
I try very hard not to allow a bitter swell of jealousy in my gut to rise any further.
He’s never been mine to have. And I promised myself not to get involved in any distracting relationships for a while anyway.
Jonah Jacobson is not the guy for me and he never will be.