His Christmas Acquisition (6 page)

‘Jessica shouldn’t be talking about my private life!’ she managed, on the verge of tears. Tears of pure frustration.

‘She said that you didn’t have a boyfriend,’ Ryan said mildly. ‘What’s the big deal?’

‘The
big deal
is that it’s none of your business!’

‘You know, it’s dangerous to be so secretive. Makes other people even more intrigued.’

‘There’s nothing intriguing about my private life,’ Jamie snapped. ‘It’s not nearly as glamorous or adventurous as
yours
.’

‘If you really thought that my life was glamorous, exciting and adventurous, then you wouldn’t be so disapproving—and don’t deny that you disapprove. You admitted it yourself—you think I’m an unscrupulous womaniser with no morals.’

‘I never said that!’ She met his amused grin with a reluctant smile of her own. ‘Okay, maybe I implied that you … Why are you being difficult, Ryan Sheppard?’

‘What an outrageous accusation, Jamie Powell,’ Ryan said piously. ‘No one likes being accused of being exciting and adventurous.’

‘I never said that. You’re twisting my words.’

‘You know, you may not be obvious in the way that your sister is, but when it comes to getting a man—and believe me, I know what I’m talking about—you have …’

‘Stop! I don’t want to hear what you’re going to say.’

‘Somehow, over the years, your sister has managed to destroy your self-confidence.’

‘I have plenty of self-confidence. I work with you. You should know that.’

‘Yes, you certainly do when it comes to the work front, but on an emotional level let’s just say that I’m beginning to see you for the first time.’
And liking what I see
, he could have added.

Jamie didn’t like the sound of that. She also didn’t like the way his throwaway remarks were making her question herself.
Was
she lacking in self-confidence? Was he implying that she was emotionally stunted?

‘You
were
going to help, or at least that’s what you said. You never mentioned that you were going to play amateur psychologist. So can you get the plastic cups from the cupboard over here, and stop giving me lots of homespun advice? And I don’t,’ she burst out, unable to contain herself, ‘have a boyfriend because I’ve never seen the need to grab anything that’s available because it’s better than nothing at all!’

She found that they were suddenly staring at each other with the music outside—a dull, steady throb—and the aromatic smells in the hot kitchen swirling around them like a seductive, heady incense.

‘Good policy,’ Ryan murmured, taking in the patches of heightened colour in her cheeks and the way her eyes glittered—nothing
like the cool, composed woman he was so accustomed to working alongside.

‘And if I
did
have a man in my life,’ she heard herself continue, with horror, ‘he certainly wouldn’t be the sort of person who runs around breaking other people’s kneecaps.’

‘Because you can take care of yourself.’

‘Exactly!’

‘And you definitely wouldn’t be drawn to a caveman.’

‘No, I wouldn’t.’

‘So what
would
you be drawn to?’

‘Thoughtful. Sensitive. Caring.’ With sudden alarm, she realised that somewhere along the line she had breached her own defences and allowed emotion to take control over her careful reserve.

But she had just been so mad. After the nightmare challenge of having to cope with her sister landing on her doorstep with her uninvited emotional baggage, and the chaos of having to deal with a Christmas lunch that had been foisted upon her, the thought of Jessica getting drunk and gossiping about her behind her back to her boss had been too much.

‘I’m sorry,’ she apologised stiffly, turning away and gathering herself.

Not so fast
, Ryan wanted to say,
not when you’ve set my mind whirring
.

‘For what?’ As in the office, they seemed to work well together in the kitchen, with Jamie dealing with the food while Ryan efficiently piled the dirty dishes into the sink. ‘For happening to have feelings?’

‘There’s a time and a place for everything.’ Her voice was definitely back in full working order; frankly, if he chose to snigger at her behind her back at her woefully single state, then that was his prerogative. ‘My kitchen on Christmas day definitely isn’t either.’

‘We could always alter the time and the venue. Like I
said, it’s important for a boss to know what’s going on in his secretary’s life.’

‘No. It isn’t.’ But of course he was teasing her and she half smiled, pleased that the normal order was restored.

Watching her, Ryan felt a sudden kick of annoyance. Would he have taken her out, maybe for dinner, in an attempt to prise beneath that smooth exterior? He didn’t know, but he did realise that she was quietly and efficiently reerecting her barriers.

Oozing sympathy, he turned her to face him, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders. ‘People tell me that I’m a terrific listener,’ he murmured persuasively. ‘And I pride myself on being able to read other people.’

Jamie opened her mouth to utter something polite but sarcastic, and instead found herself dry-mouthed and blinking owl-like as he stared down at her. He really was sinfully, shamefully beautiful, she thought, dazed.

‘And I didn’t mean to offend you by suggesting that your outgoing, in-your-face sister might have been ruinous on your levels of self-confidence. I’m just guessing that you’ve been messed up in the past.’

‘What are you talking about?’ she whispered.

‘Some loser broke your heart and you haven’t been able to move on.’

Jamie drew her breath in sharply and pulled away from him, breaking the mesmeric spell he had temporarily cast over her. She pressed herself against the kitchen counter, hands behind her back.

‘What did my sister say to you?’

Ryan had been fishing in the dark. He had been curious—understandably curious, he thought. In his world, women were an open book. It was refreshing to be challenged with one who wasn’t. Now, he felt like the angler who, against all odds, has managed to land a fish.

She was as white as a sheet, and although she was trying hard to maintain a semblance of composure he knew that it was a struggle.

So who the hell was the guy who had broken her heart?

‘This is ridiculous!’ Abruptly, Jamie turned away and began gathering a stack of plates in her hands. They were all disposable paper plates because there was no way that she would be left standing by the sink after the last guest had departed, washing dishes while her sister retired to bed for some well-deserved sleep after copious alcohol consumption.

‘Trust me, he wasn’t worth it.’ Ryan was enraged on her behalf.

‘I really don’t want to talk about this.’

‘Sometimes those caring, sharing types can prove to be the biggest bastards on the face of the earth.’

‘How would
you
know?’ She spun round to look at him with flashing eyes. ‘For your information, the caring, sharing guy in question was the nicest man I’ve ever met.’

‘Not that nice, if he trampled over you. What was it? Was he married? Stringing you along by pretending he was single and unattached? Or maybe promising to dump his wife who didn’t understand him? Or was he seeing other women on the side? Underneath that caring, sharing exterior, was he living it up behind your back—was that it? Word of advice here—men who get a tear in their eye during sad movies and insist on cooking for you because they get home at five every evening don’t necessarily have the monopoly on the moral high-ground. You’ve got to let it go, Jamie.’

‘Let it go and start doing
what
?’ she heard herself asking as she gripped the paper plates in her hand.

‘Join the dating scene.’

‘So that I can …?’

‘Finish what you were going to say.’ Ryan moved to block
her exit. ‘Like I said, there’s never any need for you to think that you can’t speak freely to me. We’re not in a work environment here. Say whatever you want to say.’

‘Okay, here’s what I want to say—whatever hang-ups I have, there’s no way I would join any dating scene if there was a possibility of bumping into men like you, Ryan Sheppard!’

Ryan’s lips thinned. She was skating dangerously close to thin ice but hadn’t he invited her to be frank and open with him? Hadn’t he insisted? On the other hand, he hadn’t expected her to throw his kindness back in his face. He was giving her the benefit of his experience, warning her of the perils of the sort of smiley, happy jerk she claimed to like, providing her with a shoulder to cry on—and in return …?

‘Men
like me
?’ he enquired coldly.

‘Sorry, but you did ask me to be honest.’

Ryan forced himself to offer her a smile. ‘I don’t lead women up the garden path and break their hearts,’ he gritted.

‘No one led me up a garden path!’ But she had said too much. She was hot, bothered and flustered and regretting every mis-spoken word. ‘We should get this food out there before it all goes stone cold,’ she carried on.

‘In other words, you want this conversation terminated.’

Jamie avoided his eyes and maintained a mute silence. ‘I apologise if I said certain things that you might construe as insulting,’ she eventually offered in a stilted voice, and he scowled. ‘And I’d appreciate it if we could just leave it here and not mention this conversation again.’

‘And what if I don’t agree to that?’

Jamie looked at him calmly, composure regained, but at a very high cost to her treasured peace of mind. ‘I don’t think I could work happily alongside you otherwise. I’m a very private person and it would be impossible for me to
function if I feared that you might start …’
Finding my life a subject for conjecture.

‘Start what?’

‘Trying to get under my skin because you find it amusing.’

Her eyes weren’t quite brown, Ryan caught himself thinking. There were flecks of green and gold there that he had never noticed before. But then again, why would he have noticed, when she kept her eyes studiously averted from his face most of the time?

He stood aside with ill humour and pushed open the door for her and immediately they were assailed with the sound of raised voices and laughter. While they had been in the kitchen, a cabaret had obviously been going on and, sure enough, Jessica had pulled one of the tables to the side of the room and was doing her best to hang some mistletoe from the light on the ceiling in the middle of the room, while surrounded by a circle of guests who were clearly enjoying the spectacle.

Food was greeted with clapping and cheering. The neighbours made a half-hearted attempt to head back to their houses, but were easily persuaded to stay. All hands hit the deck and more drink surfaced while, to one side, Jamie watched proceedings. And Ryan watched Jamie, out of the corner of his eye. Watched as she pretended to join in, although her smile was strained whenever she looked across to her flamboyant sister. Surrounded by an audience, Jessica was like one of the glittering baubles on the Christmas tree.

It was nearly five-thirty by the time the food had been depleted and Jamie began the laborious process of clearing.

Exhaustion felt like lead weights around her ankles and she knew that her tiredness had nothing to do with the task of making Christmas lunch. It was of the mental variety and that was a much more difficult prospect to shake off.
Talking to Ryan in the kitchen, exploding in front of him like an unpredictable hand grenade, had drained her and she knew why.

For the first time in her life, she had allowed herself to let go. The result had been terrifying and if she could only have taken it all back then she would have.

Sneaking a glance to her right, she looked at him. He had dutifully helped clear away dishes, along with everyone else minus her sister, and now he was laughing and joking with the guys from his office. Doubtless he had completely forgotten their conversation, while she …

She watched as, giggling and swaying her hips to the rhythm of the music, Jessica began beckoning him across to where she had positioned herself neatly underneath the precariously hanging bunch of mistletoe.

Ryan looked far from thrilled at the situation and for once Jamie was not going to rush in and try and save her sister from herself. If Jessica wanted to fool around in her quest to find herself, then so be it. Jamie had spent a lifetime standing behind her, desperately attempting to rescue her from her own waywardness.

Lord, in the process she had even forgotten how to take care of her own emotional needs! She had bottled everything up; how pathetic was it that the one time she actually managed to release the cork on that bottle it was with her boss, the least appropriate or suitable person when it came to shoulder-lending! He went through women like water and had probably never had a decent conversation of any depth with any of the bimbos who clung to him like superglue. Yet she had directed all her angst at him—in an unstoppable stream of admissions that she knew she would eternally live to regret.

She was turning away, heading for the sanctuary of the kitchen, when she happened to glance through the window.
No one had bothered to draw the curtains and there, stepping out of his car—the same old battered Land Rover which he had had ever since she had first started working for him—was her brother-in-law.

For a few seconds, Jamie could scarcely believe her eyes. She hadn’t seen Greg for absolutely ages. She had fled with her pride and dignity intact, determined to keep her love for him firmly under wraps while he got on with the business of showering Jessica with his devotion. Since then, she hadn’t trusted herself to be anywhere near him, because she would rather have died than to let her secret leap out of its box.

The years hadn’t changed him. He was turning now to slot his key into the lock; everything about him was surprisingly the same. His fair hair still flopped over his eyes and he still carried himself with the same lanky awkwardness that Jamie had once found so incredibly endearing. She could make all that out even under the unsatisfactory street lighting.

She peeled her eyes away for a fraction of a second to see Jessica reaching out to put her hands on Ryan’s shoulders. In a second, Jamie thought with a surge of panic two things would happen: Greg would turn around and look straight through the window, and Jessica would close her eyes and plant a very public kiss on Ryan’s mouth.