Chapter 4
Xander had to check the address of the hotel that Rosa had given him twice before he finally concluded he was in the right place. Was Jess really staying in this dump?
An unfriendly receptionist finally gave him Jess’s room number and he walked along the grimy corridor and banged on her door with a foreboding sense of discomfort.
He’d woken up early that morning after a dream about Jess where she’d been buried under an avalanche of snow and he’d not been able to get close enough to rescue her. It was the most bizarre thing he’d ever dreamt – not least because he barely knew her – and the sense of loss it provoked had left a dragging sorrow in his chest that unnerved him so much he’d had to get straight up and go for a walk to clear his head.
Apparently, his subconscious was feeling very guilty about how he’d treated her the night before. So, here he was, cap in hand, ready to apologise for his insensitivity in the hope he hadn’t driven her away for good.
After another minute of banging, the door finally swung open to reveal a rather dishevelled-looking Jess, still in her pyjamas and with her normally immaculate bob sticking out wildly around her pale face. The dark bags under her eyes made him suspect she hadn’t slept well either.
Her face went from ghostly pale to beet red in the space of a second when she realised it was him at the door and her hands flew straight up to flatten down her thatch of hair.
‘Xander? What are you doing here?’
‘I came to invite you over for breakfast and to say sorry for being an idiot last night.’
Jess stared at him in wide-eyed astonishment. ‘Wow. Am I dreaming or did Xander Heaton just apologise to me?’
He snorted and leant against the doorjamb, watching in amusement as she took a theatrical, stumbling step back into the room.
‘It’s real. Consider me humbled.’
She dipped her head and gave him a genuine smile. ‘Apology accepted. Thank you for coming all the way over here, that’s very decent of you.’
He batted her praise away, but acknowledged the feeling of satisfaction it brought, relieved she seemed to have forgiven him for his insensitivity. ‘You were right, I was being an arrogant bastard.’
‘Yeah, well, I wasn’t exactly sweetness and light last night either,’ she said, folding her arms tightly across her chest, which only drew his attention to the swell of her breasts. ‘I’m sorry for being so narky.’
‘Okay. So we’re both sorry. That’s great. Let’s put it behind us.’
‘Good idea.’
They stood looking at each other and an awkward silence descended, making the air between them hum with tension.
‘Nice place you have here,’ Xander said, in an attempt to break it, shooting her a playful grin.
Her shoulders tensed. ‘Yeah, it was the only room I could find at short notice.’
There was a loud scratching noise that seemed to be coming from inside the wall next to him.
He frowned hard. ‘What the hell is that?’
She shrugged, her expression giving away her own disgust. ‘Cockroaches I think.’
The thought of her staying here in such awful conditions made him shudder. No wonder she looked as though she hadn’t slept all night. A sudden overwhelming urge to protect her hit him like a hammer to the chest.
‘You can’t stay here. There must be somewhere else available?’
‘There isn’t. I looked. Everywhere else is fully booked or totally out of my price range.’
‘Isn’t the magazine stumping for your accommodation?’ he asked.
She shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. ‘There isn’t the budget to put me up somewhere expensive. I’m just a junior staffer,’ she said sheepishly, clearly worried he’d be offended that they hadn’t sent their top reporter to interview him.
The flash of vulnerability did something to his insides, making them squirm in sympathy for her.
‘Pack up your stuff, you’re staying with me.’
She blinked at him in surprise. ‘What?’
‘I have four spare bedrooms at the villa. It’s ridiculous for you to stay in this dump when there’s so much room at my place.’ He held up his hands, palms forward when she frowned and started to shake her head.
‘Rosa’s there most of the time and the bedrooms have locks on the doors so you don’t need to worry about me taking advantage of you.’ He flipped her a grin in the hope she’d believe him. He couldn’t in all conscience let her stay here any longer. The place was disgusting and he hated the thought of her having to put up with it when it was no skin off his nose for her to stay with him.
‘But don’t you want your privacy?’ she hedged, rocking back on her heels.
He shrugged. ‘There’s enough room at the villa for us not to feel like we’re in each other’s pockets and you’re going to be spending most of your time there anyway, right?’
She took a moment to think it over, staring down at the floor.
‘I’ll wait for you in reception,’ he said, moving back towards the door. ‘Rosa’s making breakfast, so we’d better get back there soon.’ He hoped his authoritative tone would tip her into action. He suspected she’d need quite a push to get past her stubbornness.
After five minutes of pacing up and down in the reception area, he finally saw her appear from her room, now fully dressed. She walked down the corridor towards him wheeling a small suitcase, her shoulders drawn forwards and her head dipped with tiredness.
The dull grey, shapeless linen trouser suit she’d put on today did nothing to reflect the feistiness he’d seen in her the previous night – it swamped her frame, diminishing her lifeforce with its banality. Why on earth did she choose to dress like that when she had such passion inside her?
He wondered idly what her body looked like underneath those baggy layers. Soft and inviting, he imagined. He’d love the opportunity to find out for sure.
‘Okay. I’d like to take you up on your kind offer,’ she said, coming to a halt in front of him, tipping her chin up defiantly as if she was afraid he’d think less of her for conceding to his demand. On the contrary, the fact she was so graciously accepting his help only made him like her more.
‘Great, give me your bag and I’ll meet you outside,’ he said, taking the suitcase from her. She didn’t stop him, clearly too tired today to put up a fight.
He waited outside by the car while she checked out, feeling the warmth of the early morning sun seeping into his skin. Just being away from the city was already having a positive effect on him. The pace of life here was calming and he could feel the tension beginning to drain away. All he needed to do now was to use this growing sense of confidence and the flashes of inspiration Jess seemed to incite in him whenever she was around, and he could start to restore the passion his work had been missing.
He couldn’t even begin to explain to himself why she had such a big effect on him, but hell, it didn’t matter, as long as the inspiration stayed around long enough for him to begin to create something he was proud of again. Already the sketches he’d done of Jess and the ideas she’d inspired in him were head and shoulders above anything he’d produced in the last year. There was finally life to his drawing again. Instead of the unimaginative marks on paper he’d had to drag out of himself up until this point.
Bizarre that she’d been the one to draw that out of him. She was nothing like the type of woman he usually hung around with, but there was something beguiling about her.
Glancing back at the hotel, he saw Jess come out and blink in the sunlight as she looked around for him.
He gave her a wave and she walked stiffly over in those crazy-high heels of hers and took her case from him.
‘Okay. I’ll see you back at the villa,’ she said, already wheeling her case off to her own car, tension clear in her gait.
‘See you back there in ten,’ he said, ducking into the driving seat, impatient to get back for some well-earned breakfast and the opportunity to get to know this intriguing woman a little better.
* * *
When he arrived back at the villa, Rosa had already laid out the breakfast things on the terrace. Xander flopped into a chair and stared out at the spectacular view over the lake while he waited for Jess to arrive and join him.
She was only a couple of minutes behind him, and he watched as she made her way gingerly over the path that ran around the house and sat down in the chair opposite him with a relieved sigh.
‘Thank you for rescuing me from that place. You’re my hero,’ she said, flashing him a subdued grin.
Was she serious? Or was this her own personal brand of sarcasm?
Man, it was unnerving not being able to read her easily. Perhaps the crux of their problem was they didn’t get each other’s sense of humour yet?
He chose to think she really meant what she said and smiled, relaxing back into his chair and hooking his arm over the backrest. ‘Actually, it was pretty heroic of me. I’m not a morning person and I got up a whole hour early to come and fetch you for breakfast.’ He chased this statement with a grin, so she knew he was only joshing.
Was that a flicker of appreciation he saw in her eyes? He was surprised by how much he hoped so.
Rosa came back and poured them each a cup of coffee, then put a plate loaded with pastries and fresh fruit in front of them. Jess frowned at it for a second before popping a piece of melon into her mouth and chewing it for rather longer than necessary before swallowing it.
‘I’d like to sketch you this morning, when we’ve finished breakfast,’ he said, before taking a sip of the strong, aromatic coffee.
Her gaze shot to his, her eyes suddenly wild and uncertain.
‘Really?’ She cleared her throat, brushed some imaginary crumbs off her fingers, then smoothed her hands over her lap. ‘Okay.’
He frowned at her reaction. ‘What is it with you? You seem to be in a perpetual state of apprehension.’
She pushed her chair back and stood up so suddenly it made him jump. ‘I’m fine. Really.’ She gave him a shaky grin. ‘Actually, I’m not hungry so I’m going to get settled in my room, have a shower and psych myself up before we start if you don’t mind.’
He watched her walk away. Her body was rigid and her hands clenched at her sides as she moved awkwardly in her heels.
What the hell had he said wrong now?
* * *
After finding her outrageously luxurious room – which she investigated thoroughly before even taking her jacket and shoes off – Jess spent a while carefully unpacking her suitcase and hanging up her clothes in the enormous walk-in wardrobe. The soothing action of tidying was a welcome relief from dealing with the intensity of Xander’s charismatic presence and she took her sweet time over it in order to stall having to go back outside again and sit for his picture.
Her small collection of clothes looked sad and limp and rather pathetic all by themselves on the enormous rail and she shut the door hurriedly on them, not entirely sure where the sudden feeling of gloom had come from.
It must be down to not having slept all night.
When Xander had suggested she move in here with him, her first instinct had been to categorically dismiss the idea, but with her head feeling like it was stuffed with cotton wool and her body aching with tiredness, she’d actually been pathetically grateful when he’d insisted on it. Just the thought of spending another sleepless night in that awful hotel had made her insides clench and squirm.
She’d been surprised at his offer too, considering how resistant he’d been to giving her anything personal of himself the previous night. Perhaps she’d looked so pathetic when he’d found her there, he’d had a crisis of conscience?
Anyway, whatever his reasons, logically it would be a whole lot easier to stay in the same place as Xander as it meant she could get a really good feel for how he spent his days, and nights, while he worked on his paintings.
She took a hot, reviving shower in the beautiful, mosaic-tiled en suite bathroom then dressed in her most comfortable clothes: a pair of indigo boyfriend-cut jeans, a loose, long sleeved, white cotton T-shirt and a pair of flip flops.
Taking one last, deep breath, she went back out to the garden to find Xander, ready for the session.
Blood thundered through her veins at the thought of him scrutinising her from every angle and flashbacks from being bullied about her weight when she was younger flittered through her mind, but she refused to feel cowed by those awful memories. It had been a long time since she’d let her eating disorder get its teeth into her, and she’d come so far since then. She refused to let it drag her under again.
Xander was sitting on the terrace with his sketchpad and pencils, making large swirling motions over the paper. He tilted his head and smiled, eyebrows raised as she drew closer to him and she wrapped her arms around her middle and gave him her bravest smile back. She had no idea what he must be thinking and blood pounded in her head as her agitation increased.
Suck it up, Jess. You’re doing this to save your career, remember?
If she could get through this modelling debacle, hopefully she’d have more opportunities to pump Xander for information.
The thought of ‘pumping’ in relation to Xander almost made her lose her cool for a second and she had to suck in a deep breath to steady herself. The low throb of arousal refused to budge from where it had nestled itself between the apex of her thighs, and she had to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other to stop herself from swivelling on the spot and making a run for it.
She found him still sitting on the terrace and took the chair opposite him, with the lake behind her, the sun hot on her already heated skin. Her muscles were so twitchy she wouldn’t be at all surprised to find she was visibly vibrating with tension.
Xander looked up and studied her for a moment, sketchpad on his knee, his bright eyes searching her face.
She wound her fingers together and placed them carefully on her lap, looking away over his shoulder in an attempt to distract herself from the discomfort of being studied so thoroughly by a man who made her insides writhe like they were filled with snakes.
‘Relax, Jess. Anyone would think I was about to torture you.’
‘I have no idea why you’d want to draw me,’ she said, attempting to relax her shoulders into some sort of normal posture.
Xander laughed. ‘You’re much more attractive than you think you are, you know.’
She shot him a puzzled scowl. ‘How the hell do you know how attractive – or not – I think I am?’
He didn’t seem at all fazed by her snippy tone. ‘I can see it in your body language. You don’t believe in yourself.’ He leant in closer. ‘You know, you shouldn’t worry so much about what anybody else thinks; just believe in how amazing you are.’
‘That would be a lot easier if I was amazing.’ She flipped him a grin, but he frowned, clearly unimpressed with her response.
‘How can you not know how gorgeous you are?’ he murmured.
The penetrating look he gave her made the throb reawaken deep in her pelvis.
‘You need to release the joy.’ He didn’t shift his gaze from her face, keeping her attention locked to him.
She laughed in bewilderment. ‘The joy?’
‘You know. The place where a genuine smile comes from.’
She looked at him blankly. ‘How do I find such a place?’
‘Think about the last time you felt happy.’
She gave him a sceptical look.
‘Humour me,’ he said.
Sighing, she wiped her sweaty palms on the sides of her jeans. She didn’t want him to see how nervous she was about being the centre of attention like this.
Sensing she was likely to lose this particular battle, and interested to see if the experiment worked, she sighed and shut her eyes, doing as he said, trying to capture the feeling of delight she’d experienced when Pamela had offered her the job on the magazine. She tried to pinpoint where the feeling emanated from, locating it somewhere deep in her chest where it pulsed low and warm.
‘Okay,’ Xander said, ‘Now look at me and let your eyes tell me how you’re feeling.’
She took a second to centre herself, then did as he said, staring into his striking green-blue eyes and trying to communicate how she felt through the power of her expression.
‘Not bad, but you need to stop worrying about what I’m thinking of you and let me see you.’
Heat crept up her neck. ‘I have no idea how to do that,’ she bit out in frustration.
He was looking at her so intently she thought she might pass out. Getting up from his chair, he knelt in front of her. ‘What are you hiding?’ he murmured.
He was looking at her differently now, she was sure of it. Not that she could put her finger on exactly what made her think that. It was a feeling. An unsettling, exciting, monstrous feeling she was almost afraid to acknowledge.
Heart pummelling her chest, Jess willed herself not to look away. He was close to her, so close she could smell the fresh, citrusy smell of him, mingling with the heat of his body. Her sensitised skin tingled all over and suddenly the feeling seemed to peak and was swiftly followed by an overwhelming tiredness. She tried to – unsuccessfully – stifle a yawn.
Xander laughed quietly. ‘Okay, I can see you’re exhausted so I’m going to release you from the torture.’ He sat back on his haunches.
Jess let out a loud sigh of relief. ‘Thank God for that.’
He frowned at her. ‘You really don’t enjoy being looked at, do you?’
She looked back at him, battling with the mixture of shame and defiance that coursed through her. ‘I hate it.’
‘Why?’
Sighing, she looked off towards the vast, sparkling expanse of the lake, giving herself a moment to gather her wits. She should tell him, so he’d know she wasn’t just being difficult. ‘My mum was a model in the eighties and she’d had this dream that I would be one too. Unfortunately, she ended up with a chubby, odd-looking child who hated being thrust into the limelight.’ She laughed, hoping to sound flippant, but instead managing to sound strained.
‘It didn’t stop her from dressing me up like a doll from the age of four and making me parade around in those awful beauty pageants you see on shockumentaries sometimes though,’ she ploughed on, not daring to look at Xander. ‘I absolutely hated them, but she made me do it until I was old enough to categorically refuse. I always came last in those things and the constant look of disappointment on her face would make me physically ill.’ She snorted, but still couldn’t bring herself to catch his eye. ‘Ever since then I’ve hated being looked at and judged. I prefer to blend into the background.’ She shrugged, hoping she hadn’t completely blown things here with him. After his kindness that morning she felt like she owed him an explanation about her reticence to be drawn. She didn’t want him to think she was just being a prima donna about it.
When she finally plucked up the courage to meet his gaze her insides swooped at the expression of compassion on his face.
‘So why did you agree to come here and go through with this if it meant putting yourself through so much torment?’ he asked gently.
* * *