Chapter 4 #2
Xander held his breath, waiting to hear what would spill from those cherubic lips of hers.
Say it’s because I fascinate you and you want to get to know me better .
The intensity of his need to hear those words shocked him.
She paused, staring back at him, a whole gamut of expressions running across her face.
‘Because I need this interview with you so I can impress my editor.’ She looked as though she was going to say more, but then clamped her mouth shut.
He snorted in frustration, the intimacy of the moment broken by her failure to tell him what he wanted to hear.
His determination to win her over tripled.
Getting up, he braced himself against the arms of her chair, gathering his strength to leave without planting a reassuring kiss on those soft-looking lips first.
She was a total contradiction. On the one hand self-assured and feisty, but on the flipside, withdrawn and uncertain.
‘I’m going to go and work in the studio for a while and you should try and catch up on your sleep, but we should go out for dinner tonight. There’s a great restaurant in Salo I want to try.’ His rebellious gaze dropped back to her full, inviting mouth and he had to force himself to look away.
‘Okay, I’d like that.’
He nodded. ‘Great. Let’s go about eight o’clock.’
‘Eight’s great,’ she said, nodding too.
‘See you later.’ He pushed himself up straight and strode away from her without looking back.
He could tell he was going to have to play the long game to get Jess to trust him, but the thought of it buoyed him.
He enjoyed a challenge.
* * *
After taking a long, reviving nap, Jess spent the remainder of the day taking photos of the amazing villa and jotting down ideas for her article on Xander.
The reprieve he’d given her earlier had been a welcome relief, but she knew if she was going to get him to open up, she was going to have to give more of herself than she’d originally anticipated. He’d responded really kindly to her confession about her hatred of being the centre of attention and she’d felt as if laying herself bare like that had endeared her to him.
She guessed that as an artist he needed to be able to see more than surface level too.
But it was a dangerous game she was playing. She couldn’t allow herself to get swept up in imagining there was more of a connection between them than there actually was. He was famous for his short, sharp affairs with his muses and she couldn’t allow herself to get carried away and expect there to be any actual romance.
Xander was a fantastic flirt, but surely he didn’t mean anything by it? He was just trying to lure her under his spell so she’d give him what he wanted.
He was clearly a very smart guy who played to his strengths.
After staring at her meagre collection of clothes for a few minutes, she shunned the grey linen suit – too formal – and her jeans – too informal – for the only other thing semi-suitable for a dinner out: a long, light wool jumper and black, cotton trousers. It was totally over the top for a summer’s evening but she hadn’t anticipated needing anything for dining out. Her wardrobe at home didn’t contain any decent ‘going out’ clothes any more anyway. Not since she’d moved to London and didn’t have the money or energy to go out in the evenings.
Whatever. It would have to do. This wasn’t a date, it was her job, so it shouldn’t matter what she looked like.
Eight o’clock came and went and she found herself pacing the hall, her senses on high alert for any sign of Xander as she waited.
Finally, he appeared, his hair gleaming and pushed away from his face as if he’d just stepped out of the shower. The casual, off-duty appearance did something funny to her insides. It made him more human somehow, more touchable.
As he got closer, she noticed he smelled as if he’d just stepped out of the shower too, all clean and fresh with a dark, musky undertone from some bodywash product or other.
Even if he was the most delicious thing she’d ever encountered, she shouldn’t lose sight of the fact he’d left her hanging around in the hall like a sad muppet when he was the one who’d set the time to meet for dinner, then turned up late. She pursed her lips as he stopped in front of her, determined not to let his charisma beat her into submission. ‘I was expecting you fifteen minutes ago.’
He grinned, knocking the ferocity right out of her. ‘You look just like the headmistress of the school I was expelled from when you do that. Although that expression looks a lot sexier on you.’
Despite the smile tugging at her mouth, she somehow managed to raise a judicious eyebrow. ‘I consider lateness to be rude, but then what else should I expect from such a bad boy?’
His mouth twitched at the corner, but he held up both hands and dipped his head in acquiescence. ‘Yes, Miss. It’s a fair cop. You’re right; it was rude of me to be late.’
She gave him a nod, trying to appear as if she was used to handling men like him every day.
‘Let’s go,’ he said, opening the front door and gesturing for her to exit first.
They walked over to his car, which was parked under a small, wooden awning covered in fragrant smelling honeysuckle.
Jess was surprised and a little taken aback when Xander opened the passenger door for her and waited until she’d got in before closing it behind her. Was he on his best behaviour now she’d pointed out his rudeness? Could she really be having that much of an impact on him?
‘What a gentleman,’ she said after he’d walked round to the other side and slid into the driving seat.
‘You don’t mind that then?’ he asked. ‘Some women hate having doors opened for them.’
‘I don’t mind at all. I consider it good manners. I’d do the same for you though, if I got to the car first.’
He smiled and gave her a courteous tip of the head before slipping the car into gear and setting off.
‘Did you book a table?’ she asked.
He flipped her a grin. ‘No, but they’ll fit us in, don’t worry about that.’
* * *
There was a queue five couples deep when they pulled up outside the vine-covered trattoria in Salo.
‘Ah, damn it,’ Jess said, her heart sinking. She really didn’t fancy spending the next hour in such close proximity to Xander, driving round looking for somewhere else that could fit them in. Why hadn’t he just booked a table?
Xander seemed blithely unconcerned as he parked the car in the trattoria’s car park and opened his door to get out.
Jess followed him out into the warm evening air. When he turned to look at her, she opened her mouth to ask him what they were going to do, but before she could utter a word, he held up a hand to silence her.
‘Give me a second to speak to the ma?tre d’,’ he said, backing away from her towards the open door to the trattoria.
Striding confidently past the queue of future diners, he disappeared into the restaurant, leaving Jess gaping after him.
Everyone in the queue turned to look at her and she had to pull her phone out of her bag and pretend to be checking for messages so they wouldn’t see how embarrassed she was.
Xander reappeared a minute later and beckoned her to follow him.
She hurried after him as he walked past the queue of people again, giving them all a friendly smile.
Every one of them smiled back at him.
Oh, to be that confident.
The ma?tre d’ met them at the door and ushered them inside to a small table at the back.
The trattoria was hot with the collected warmth of bodies and heat from the wood-fired stone pizza oven in the corner and Jess’s stomach rumbled as the amazing aromas of Italian food hit her nostrils.
‘So they just happened to have this table free?’ she asked after they’d seated themselves in heavy wrought iron chairs and had been handed menus by their waiter.
‘No, but they made room for us.’
‘I don’t even know what that means,’ Jess said, throwing up her hands.
Xander grinned. ‘Sometimes fame has its perks.’
Jess chose what she was going to eat quickly – a delicious sounding chicken salad – and looked up to watch Xander as he studied the menu.
She had one of those disquieting moments where she seriously wondered whether she was dreaming this all. If anyone had told her this time last week that she’d be in Italy, dining opposite Xander Heaton, she’d have told them to get their head checked. Even more baffling than the arbitrariness of her situation was the fact she felt as if she belonged here with him – that their camaraderie earlier had somehow taken their relationship to a new level.
He glanced up and caught her staring at him.
‘Everything okay, Jess?’
She flushed in embarrassment at being caught out. ‘I’m fine. Just thinking how strange it is to be sitting here with you.’
‘Strange?’ he looked puzzled at her choice of word.
‘Good strange. It’s not the sort of thing that ever happens to me. I live a pretty uneventful life, usually.’
He leant back in his chair and considered her for a moment. ‘Believe it or not, my life can be pretty lonely. Especially when I spend a lot of time holed up on my own working on my paintings. That’s why I like working with models. Having you around is a welcome relief, to be honest.’
She raised her eyebrows and sat up, crossing her arms in front of her. She’d never considered his life could be like that, not when, according to the papers, he seemed to live such a hedonistic existence. ‘That doesn’t sound like a fun way to live.’
He shrugged. ‘Sometimes it’s not.’
‘So why do you do it?’
* * *
Jess’s question made Xander pause. It had been a long time since anyone had got close enough to ask him a question like that. He usually held journalists at arm’s length when they were after personal details and none of the women he’d dated recently seemed interested in the why, only in what he could offer them in the now. But he found he actually wanted to talk to Jess about this side of him. Perhaps to prove to her he wasn’t the cold-hearted player she clearly had him pegged as.
‘It’s my calling. What I feel I’m meant to be doing with my life. I think I’d wither and die if I had to go and work in an office every day.’
She smoothed a hand over her perfectly straight hair, which distracted him for a second as he wondered what it would feel like to run his own hands through it. It would be soft and silky as it slid through his fingers, he was sure of it.
‘Are you worried about how your next exhibition’s going to be received?’ she asked, pulling him rudely out of his hair-fondling fantasy.
He shifted in his chair, going for nonchalance while he considered her question carefully, giving himself a few moments to formulate an evasive, but meaty answer. Apparently, she was going to keep hammering at this line of interrogation so he should probably give her something to work with so she’d finally drop it.
‘In my profession I’m walking on a knife-edge the whole time. There are hundreds of new, really talented artists appearing each year, desperate to step into the limelight. I feel like I have to produce something pretty damn special every time I exhibit, or I’ll sink into obscurity. That’s a lot of pressure right there.’
‘What do your parents think about your success?’ she asked, looking down as she realigned the position of her cutlery on the table in front of her.
Clearing his throat, he dragged up the indifferent expression he’d perfected over the years. ‘They’re both dead.’
She looked up sharply. ‘Oh, Xander, I’m so sorry. So you’re on your own?’
‘Yup. It’s just me and my massive ego now.’
Her cheeks flushed an adorable shade of pink. ‘Look, I’m sorry I said that. In my defence, I called it as I saw it at the time. Before I got to know you better.’
He smiled. ‘You called it right. I was being a tool.’
She pushed her knife too far back on the table and it fell onto the floor. After reaching down to rescue it, she swiped her hair away from her flushed face before giving him an embarrassed grimace and shuffling her chair closer to the table.
Their food arrived and they both tucked in, neither of them saying a word for a good couple of minutes. His lasagne was delicious and it didn’t take him long to make inroads into it.
Realising he was being rude concentrating on his food and not making conversation, he nodded at the half-eaten salad on her plate. ‘Good?’
‘Great,’ she said, popping a piece of tomato into her mouth.
‘So, Jess, tell me more about you. Have you ever been married?’ She must have swallowed her tomato the wrong way because she coughed and spluttered on it, her eyes watering as she fought to get her breath back.
Granted, it was more personal and direct than anything he’d previously asked and rather out of the blue, but he really wanted to know more about her.
‘No,’ she said finally, shaking her head and looking down at the table.
He was surprised by the relief he felt. ‘Partner?’
‘Not for a couple of years now.’
‘Oh? Why did you split up – if you don’t mind me asking?’ He stood the ends of his cutlery on the table and gave her his full attention, intrigued as to how someone as attractive as Jess could have stayed single for so long.
She put her own cutlery onto her half-full plate before answering him. ‘He was a nice enough guy, but he didn’t make my heart sing.’
‘You mean he didn’t do it for you in the sack?’
Her attempt at a casual shrug was the worst bit of acting he’d ever seen.
‘We didn’t really click,’ she muttered, not looking him in the eye. He wondered what she wasn’t telling him. Had the guy abused her in some way? Just the thought of it made him suddenly, inexplicably angry. Under that tough, shielded exterior, there was undoubtedly some deeply ingrained insecurity still lurking. He’d seen flashes of it already and imagined he’d see more and more, the longer she stuck around.
‘Anyway, my turn. How come you’re not settled down with a partner?’ she asked, clearly desperate to change the subject and shift the attention back onto him.
‘Serious relationships aren’t my thing. I like variety. And I like sex. Lots and lots of sex,’ he teased, wanting to get back to the light, flirtatious atmosphere they’d had earlier.
He wasn’t sure what Jess was thinking now. Her huge, dark eyes seemed to have taken on a far-away look and her mouth was drawn back in a faintly twisted grimace as though her smile had gone wrong somewhere along the way.
He’d made her uncomfortable with his honesty, which wasn’t what he’d intended.
And he really shouldn’t be talking to her like this, not when he’d promised himself he was taking a break from what the press liked to refer to as his ‘philandering ways’, but it was almost impossible when she looked the way she did, sitting there all buttoned-up and tempting in front of him. He wanted to peel back her layers and peek at what was underneath. Hell, who was he kidding, he wanted to tear her clothes off right there in the restaurant and feast on her like a starving man.
She fiddled with the napkin on her lap, her eyes downcast again.
‘I’m just going to find the bathroom,’ she said, dumping the napkin on the table, pushing her chair back and going to stand up, then jerking to a stop, mid-rise and sitting back down again, a look of horror on her face.
‘Jess? What’s wrong?’
‘Um, I think my top’s caught on the chair. I don’t seem to be able to move.’
He couldn’t help but laugh at her predicament, until he noticed the look of mortification on her face. She tried standing up again, but the wrought iron chair kept her in her place. Her eyes were wide with panic now.
‘I’m stuck!’
He got up and scooted round to the back of her chair to find that some of the loops of her knitted top had somehow wound themselves around the swirls of the patterned metal back.
‘Sit still, I’ll get you free,’ he said, trying to get his hands through the narrow gap between her body and the back of the chair. He worked on the caught threads for a few moments, feeling the heat of Jess’s humiliation burning into him as she sat as still as she could.
His large, clumsy fingers couldn’t get the loops out from where they were caught in the iron maze, which seemed to have inexplicably closed around them.
‘Jess, I’m sorry, it’s no good, you’re going to have to take your top off so I can get it free. I can’t work in such a small space.’
He went to lift the hem of her jumper but she put her hand firmly on top of his, stopping him. She shook her head, anxiety flashing in her eyes.
What the hell?
‘I don’t have anything underneath and I don’t want you to see my body.’ She was trembling.
He frowned. ‘Why not? What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing, nothing… it’s just… I can’t take my top off in the middle of the restaurant.’ Her voice came out all squeaky and panicked.
‘Well, you’re going to have to wear the chair home then,’ he said, exasperation at not being able to help her coming through in his tone. ‘Whatever possessed you to wear a wool top in this heat anyway?’
He stepped away as she started jerking madly away from the chair as if it would miraculously let her go if she showed enough determination.
‘Jess you’re going to ruin…’ But it was too late. There was a tearing noise as the delicate material came apart under the force of her tugging. Unfortunately, some of the strands were still wound tightly around the chair back so the top still wouldn’t come free.
Jess stilled, as if she’d been turned to stone, then pressed herself back against the chair to hide the ruined back of her top, staring up at him with such a look of abject misery it made his stomach turn over.
‘Okay, this is ridiculous,’ he pulled open the buttons on his shirt and took it off, ignoring the titters and murmurs of the diners around them who were clearly enjoying the show. ‘I’ll hold this around you while you take your top off then you can wear it while we free your jumper.’
‘Okay,’ Jess said, nodding her head unhappily in agreement, managing to look as if he’d just suggested she leap across a pit of poisonous snakes.
He looked away as he held his shirt around her so she could struggle out of her jumper without flashing the entire restaurant, then slide her arms into the sleeves. He let go as she pulled it closed around her and attempted to do up the buttons with trembling fingers.
After a couple of frustrating moments of watching her totally fail to do up one single button, he gently pushed her hands away, knelt down next to the chair and did them up for her.
He could feel her eyes on his face as he worked his way down the shirt, his fingers skirting tantalisingly close to the swell of her breasts.
‘Some people might suspect this was a cunning ploy to get me to take my shirt off in public,’ he murmured, flipping her a grin, which she returned, albeit humbly. ‘There you go.’ He stood back so she could get up from the chair.
‘Thank you.’ She looked really grateful for his help, and something fluttered in his chest.
He quickly released the jumper from the chair back. ‘My pleasure. Shall we get out of here, before this crowd asks for an encore?’
‘Yes. Good idea,’ Jess said, reaching into her handbag and grabbing a handful of euros, which she dropped onto the table. He dropped his own share for the meal next to it and handed some of her money back to her. ‘You don’t need to pay for me.’
She didn’t answer, just nodded and gave him a grateful smile. He had no idea what she was thinking; from the look in her eyes, she seemed to have retreated far away into her own head.
He strode out of the restaurant, aware of the amused glances of the other diners as he passed by them, half naked and standing out like a sore thumb, with Jess hot on his heels. He gave them all a salute as he reached the door and ushered Jess outside. She ran over to the car and he bipped the doors so she could get straight in. He swung himself into the driving seat and burst out laughing, turning to look at her and share the joke, but she was staring straight ahead, her back ramrod straight and her hands clutched tightly in her lap.
‘Jess?’
She turned to look at him, her expression wild and her face flaming red. ‘Can we go?’ it came out as a hushed gasp. She flapped the front of the shirt, clearly trying to cool herself down. He frowned at her extreme reaction. It was warm in the car, but not sweltering.
He started up the engine and drove out of the car park, heading back to the villa. ‘You okay?’ he asked.
‘I’m fine. Just hot. Is it hot in here?’ She wafted the shirt forwards and back creating a slight draught of air, staring hard at the dashboard.
‘Not really.’ He put a hand on her arm and felt the heat of her skin sear through the cotton of the shirt. ‘Jess, what’s going on?’
She wouldn’t look at him. ‘I don’t like showing people my body. I’m not comfortable with it. Never have been. I get a bit… panicked.’
He frowned, baffled. ‘How long have you felt like that?’
She took a deep breath before she answered him. ‘Since my early teens. I’ve struggled with an eating disorder since then.’ She screwed up her face in disgust. ‘But I haven’t let it… you know… get hold of me since my late teens.’
Memories from the last couple of days connected together in his brain like jigsaw pieces. So that explained the baggy, unflattering clothes and her apparent discomfort when eating in front of him.
He leant back in the seat and rubbed a hand over his face. ‘I’m surprised.’
‘Why?’
‘Because you seem so together.’
‘It’s all a front,’ she said quietly.
‘Yeah, well I know what that takes,’ he murmured to himself.
She didn’t seem to have heard him, trapped miles away in her own thoughts.
They reached the villa a couple of minutes later and he parked back under the awning and shut off the engine.
He turned to look at her and waited until she looked back at him. ‘Well, if it’s any consolation, you’re easily the most intriguing woman I’ve met in a long time.’
She snorted, then screwed her eyes shut in embarrassment.
‘Mostly because you’re smart and funny and passionate,’ he said, ‘But I wouldn’t kick you out of bed either.’
She seemed to swallow hard. ‘What?’ Her voice was raspy and appeared to barely make it out of her throat. She frowned at him hard, as if she was trying to root out a lie.
He looked back at her, unblinking. She wouldn’t win this one. Mainly because he was telling the truth.
Jess broke eye contact first and he gave himself a mental high-five, feeling inordinately pleased with himself, until she turned away to stare out of the window.
‘Jess?’
She looked back at him, her expression confused, but wary, and he instinctively leant forwards and cupped the side of her jaw with one hand, his thumb catching against the soft fullness of her bottom lip.
He wanted to kiss her. So badly.
It was instinctive, driven by a mixture of need and curiosity and a determination not to be rejected, but frustration twisted in his gut when he realised she was fighting him and pulling away.
Releasing his grip on her, he reluctantly drew back. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked gruffly.
She opened her mouth, as if to respond, then shook her head, her long bob of hair swinging round her face, before reaching for the handle to open the door.
He watched her scramble out of the car, banging her arm on the door in her rush to get away from him.
He slumped back in the chair, staring out into the darkness, hot with anger at himself. What the hell was he thinking, coming on to her like that after what she’d just told him? God, how inappropriate. He needed to straighten himself out – fast. Getting close to Jess was going to take more than chucking a few artless, throwaway platitudes her way before steaming in full force.
He got out of the car and followed her into the villa, a little way behind to give her the space she obviously needed. She turned as she reached the staircase and gave him a strained smile.
‘See you tomorrow.’ It was a statement, not a question and he knew for sure there would be no invitation to visit her room that night. Perhaps it was for the best considering how ineptly he seemed to be acting around her.
For the best. The best , he chanted inside his head in an attempt to convince himself of it.
‘Goodnight, Jess, sleep well,’ he called after her, knowing full well a good night’s sleep was the last thing he’d be getting.