Chapter 13
Emma
I’ve never seen a body like that in real life, nevermind up close and personal in one of the rooms of my house.
Nigel was never into physicality. He always said he made up for it in brain power.
Well that was debatable, but at the time I wasn’t bothered.
I loftily believed we were above all that sort of thing.
Our love was based on mutual respect, not total physical looks.
And to be honest, through three pregnancies—whilst I loved being pregnant, loved my pregnant body—it was hard graft to get back to somewhere near your before self.
The last pregnancy had been so hard at the end, that no sooner had I pushed Nathan from my body, I’d lost all the weight with stress.
I’d struggled to feed him myself due to my anxiety levels being off the charts.
But I’d battled on. Feeding, nervous energy, and insufficient time to eat full meals meant I’d dropped back to my pre-pregnancy weight within four months.
Not a diet or lifestyle I’d recommend to anyone.
But that body…
My mouth is dry, and I’m puffing and blowing like a steam train trying to get my brain to function and not keep picturing that torso.
Those abs. The smooth skin over his chest. His corded forearms and strong wrists.
When did I develop an arm kink? I couldn’t take my eyes off his veins.
It was the hottest thing I have ever experienced.
Well, other than the hand thing last night.
Oh hell. Jude Greystone is stealing all my top ten spots.
I stride into the kitchen all business. “Ollie, Jude is coming in for breakfast. I want you to apologise to him.”
“No. I’m not sorry about what I said. He’s a liar. Dad said he was sending someone, and poof, he turns up. Why else would he be here?” Ollie is sullen and a scowl mars his forehead.
“He told me he wants to buy the London building, but you don’t want to sell,” Nathan pipes up.
“He told me he’s a virgo and has no money. So I don’t think it’s going anywhere,” Noah randomly states. When we all look at him, he shrugs. “I wrote it down.” He taps the checkboards they have next to them.
They all stop talking when Jude finally appears in the kitchen. He looks slightly dishevelled, but radiates a weird warmth. It’s like hot chocolate and whipped cream with marshmallows on a winter day. I envision that torso, and me ready to shoot with a can of squirty cream in my hands. Yummy.
I point to a seat next to the youngest boys at the breakfast bar, and he slips into his seat with a wan smile. Handing back his empty cup and saucer, I place a fresh hot one in its place.
I nudge Ollie to talk. I know Jude sees me do it. But Ollie just tuts, turning to his brothers, and says, “I’m packing up the car, hurry up you two. I’m picking up Dan on the way. We need to get there early for the good parking spots.” He struts out of the room and I hear him go upstairs.
“Can I get you something to eat?”
Jude looks down at the remnants of coco pops, and shakes his head.
“Toast? We can wait a little, we don’t have to rush off.” I can hear the squeak in my voice. Dammit. I wanted so much to be confident and composed this morning. “Might be better to wait a little to avoid the rush hour traffic.”
“I have to get back. I’ve got meetings. In fact, I’d better call my first one. Reschedule it.” He picks up his phone and goes into the lounge, and a moment later, I can hear him onto his assistant.
“He doesn’t look happy,” Nathan states
“Ollie mentioned Sue-ings, or something. He won’t, will he?” Noah asks, worriedly looking over his shoulder.
“Who’s Sue?” Nathan asks.
“Not Sue, Suing.”
“Who’s she? Sue Ings.”
“I’m not suing anyone.” Jude comes back into the kitchen. “Unless you try to bump me off this morning. Should I be worried about that tea you brought me?” He grins at Nathan, who shakes his head solemnly. “Good then, there will be no lawsuit.”
Nathan goes to open his mouth just as Ollie shouts at them to get moving. They both jump down and rush off.
“I’ll just get them off and then…” I trail off as I go past him and he sits back down at the breakfast bar.
It’s the usual chaos of bags, books, sports kits. I get them to the door in a pile just as Ollie comes towards me. He looks so grown up in his suit for sixth form. It makes me smile every morning.
“Ollie, have you apologised?”
He huffs and heads back to the kitchen as I hustle the little two out of the door, both shouting bye to Jude Greystone.
My neighbours are going to have a field day with this. His matte black Ferrari is still parked outside my drive and my boys shouting his name. Fantastic.
I go back into the house at a run to find Ollie coming past me with a pale face and a furious expression. Oh shit, what has he said now?
“See you at five, Mum.” He walks straight by me. “Don’t forget, I’m bringing Cal tonight to the building for cricket, and then here for the weekend.”
Oh, Christ. How can I forget? Nigel's other son is coming for the weekend. What joy.
“I’ve sorted my bedroom out,” adds Nathan from out of the car window, a huge smile on his face. “He can share with me.”
I raise my eyes to heaven. Not one iota of sleep will they get. And then I’ll be a bad mother sending Cal home a mess.
I wave enthusiastically at them and plod with a sigh back to Jude.
The sooner I can drop him off at his office next to my building, the better.
Before I close the front door, I toss a glance at his car with fright.
It must cost a fortune. What if I crash it?
Or hit another car on the way into London?
I’ve done the journey thousands of times, without any sort of mishap, but you can bet your bottom dollar today will be the day I have an accident.
When I walk back into the kitchen, he’s stood near the kettle and toaster, eating toast and drinking tea, looking cool as a cucumber.
“I helped myself. To speed up my departure.” He looks at me over the top of his tea cup.
“Are you ready to go?” His eyes are roaming up and down my body.
I’ve gotten dressed into my work clothes, what is his problem?
I smooth down my skirt. “Do you intend to drive my car in those heels?” He looks down at my shoes.
They’re not high, but do have a heel on. “Have you ever driven a Ferrari?”
“It’s a car, isn’t it. I assume automatic. How hard can it be?”
He huffs a laugh at that. “Your son said you drive like Lewis Hamilton. And that you’ve been on ten speed awareness courses.
So excuse me if I’m worried. You’ll kill us both if you put your heavy right foot down in my car.
” He raises an eyebrow at me. Waiting for me to contradict my loose-lipped children.
And I can’t, because it’s true. “I’m fine to drive myself. You can take your own car.”
No way is he doing that. Forget the potential he has a concussion, I’m incensed that his manners are terrible. Basically telling me I can’t drive. Just because I don’t drive a ridiculously expensive sports car doesn’t mean I can’t handle one on the road.
“Concussion symptoms can strike up to a week after. You will not drive that car. I will drive you and it back into your office in London. I will walk over to my building and you can go about your day. But I will not be responsible for you having an accident.”
My face is red, but I don’t care. I stare into his eyes, letting him see how determined I am. He just seems to be smirking at me, and I’m getting more and more annoyed.
“What’s so funny?” I demand.
“You.” He smirks some more.
“I can drive that bloody car,” I shout at him
“Fine, fine. Keep your hair on. But wear your trainers. I’m not having those heels getting in your way, and your heavy right foot getting us into trouble.”
“I do not drive fast. I am a responsible driver.”
“Yeah, says the demon speedfreak.”
“I haven’t been on ten courses. I’ve been on four, and none of them were my fault.”
“Denial. That’s what all criminals say. Not guilty, your honour.” He’s smirking and starting to laugh.
I smile at him. I can’t help it. “Well maybe one was my fault. But the police are sneaky. They were hid behind a hedge.”
“Well if you hadn’t been speeding, it wouldn’t have made a difference if they were.”
I scramble for a comeback, and finding none easily within reach, I huff and stomp off.
I hear him laugh behind me. “Hurry up, Lewis. I’m ready for the race track.”
I don’t make it out of the housing estate before he’s grabbed the wheel.
Not my fault a neighbour was in a hurry and backed out of the drive without looking.
The car is so responsive, he’s complained he’s now got whiplash as well as a bump on the head.
So now I’m kangarooing the car through the estate, everytime I put my foot anywhere the pedal it zooms forwards.
I’m sure this car works on telepathy. I think about putting the accelerator down, and the car speeds up.
The merest whisper, and we’re doing ninety.
I pull up before we get to the main road. He just sits and looks at me. I can tell he’s hiding his laugh. His eyes are sparkling at me even though his face is a blank canvas.
“Is there a problem, officer?” He looks innocently over at me. I want to punch his face in.
“I can’t drive under this pressure. You're making comments all the time,” I huff out, twisting around to get my belt off.
He goes still. What the hell is the matter with him now? Have I touched the wrong button? I wrestle with the belt and leap out of the car. Well, I get out as best I can in a skirt and trainers from a low-slung sports car. It’s not pretty, or graceful, At all.
Stomping around the front, I’m gesticulating for him to get out, finally pulling open the car door when he doesn’t move. “You drive. I’ll monitor your actions. If I ask you to stop, please do.”