Let's Misbehave (10 page)

“I’m cleaning it up,” she said hesitantly, hoping she hadn’t overstepped any boundaries. She’d started to enter some bills, but the whole system was a mess so she’d redone it. “I hope I didn’t do anything bad.”

“This looks quite thorough,” Beatrice said as scrolled through the month’s entries. “Hmm.”

What did that mean? She started to ask but then she looked up at the time and gasped. “Is that what time it is?”

Fran glanced at the clock and nodded. “Are you expected elsewhere?”

“I have to pick my son up from jail.”

Beatrice’s perfect eyebrows arched. “You look too young to have birthed a criminal.”

“It’s his after-school punishment for building a trebuchet.” She sighed as grabbed her things. “It’s complicated.”

“Obviously.”

“Take this, sweetie.” Fran turned and picked up a small wrapped package. “Shortbread for your wee one.”

“My wee one will adore you.” She kissed Fran’s cheek on impulse and dashed through the house.

She was putting on her coat at the door when she heard Gigi ask, “Are you leaving, Holly?” from behind.

She turned around, buttoning her coat as Gigi approached. “Yes. I finished your accounting, and I have a call in to your publicist to see if we can arrange for an interview with
Vogue
, like you asked.”

“Thank you.” Gigi leaned against the table in the foyer. “And thank you for the phone number, too.”

Holly stopped what she was doing and looked up.

“I called him.” Gigi smiled, not the usual saucy upturn of her lips but a genuine one that shined from her heart. “Thank you for the prompt.”

She lowered her head and pretended to be busy with her things. “You’re welcome.”

“Did I tell you about Tuesday night drinks?” Gigi folded her arms. “Every Tuesday we girls gather at our favorite pub. My sisters and any friends we invite. You should come next time.”

“I work for you,” she said as she hiked her bag on her shoulder.

Gigi shrugged. “But you’re a friend, too. Only a friend would care enough to do what you did for me.”

“It wasn’t that important,” she murmured, the guilt heavy on her chest.

“It was. We should get to know you better.”

Holly wanted that so badly it shocked her. She didn’t have many friends except parents of Jamie’s friends. Not many people wanted to hang out with a teenager who had a baby, and now between work and Jamie she had no time. And the Summerhills were alluring.

Except she was there to spy on Gigi. Marjorie would tell her to go to Tuesday drinks to gather dirt, but just the thought made Holly’s stomach turn.

But she nodded. “If I can find a sitter for Jamie.”

Gigi smiled. “It’s an open invitation.”

Nodding again, she murmured something and hurried out of the house. It was pouring rain, and she bit her lip to keep from cursing it as she struggled with her umbrella.

Giving up, she stopped under an awning to get out of the rain, but it dripped on her anyway. Ignoring the water, she pulled out her mobile and called her boss.

Marjorie answered right away. “Holly, I hope you have something better to report today.”

“I can’t help that Imogen’s very structured.” It was the most surprising thing about Gigi, how dedicated she was. “She takes acting seriously and works harder than anyone I’ve ever met.”

“That’s fantastic, but it’s not very sexy.”

The bra was sexy. She opened her mouth to report it, but the words wouldn’t come out. It felt too much like tattling.

Marjorie continued, unaware of Holly’s dilemma. “Gigi hasn’t been in the papers in over a week, since she was photographed with that politician. We need to feed the media something juicy.”

“Juicy.” The bra definitely qualified. But she shook her head. “I’ve been thinking that maybe we should take a different approach with Imogen.”

“It’s not your job to think,” Marjorie said. “It’s your job to make sure the talent does what she’s supposed to do, and in this case it’s keeping the tabloids full of tasty bits of scandal.”

A text came in, and she lifted her phone to read it.

It was from Peter.
We couldn’t reach you, so I took Jamie with me. Don’t worry. Text me when you’re free.

She frowned, not sure how she felt about Peter taking her son.

How ungrateful she was being. She shook her head and returned her attention to her supervisor. “Marjorie, I don’t know that this is the best way to use Imogen Summerhill. I think maybe if we focus on some of the good things she does—”

“No one cares about whether she saves puppies or old ladies from the street. They want to see her naked. They want to know what man makes her drop her knickers. Haven’t you watched that video she made with Dirk Ranger?”

Holly winced. She had watched it, and she’d felt awful for Gigi. “It wasn’t like that.”

“She won you over quickly, didn’t she?” Marjorie said. “She must be a great actress.”

“She is,” Holly replied with feeling. “But she’s more than that. She’s a woman who feels pain, and she’s brilliant. She speaks half a dozen languages fluently, and she taught them to herself.”

“I told you, Holly, no one cares about that.”

“Well, they should.” She folded her arms, imagining that she looked a lot like Jamie when he became obstinate.

“Holly, do I need to remind you that your continued employment depends on this?”

And no job meant no new school for Jamie—or new waterproof shoes, or jeans, or anything else that a growing boy needed.

She rubbed her forehead. Giving Marjorie something insignificant couldn’t hurt. Besides, if Holly were fired, there was no telling who they’d send to Gigi. The next person might be unscrupulous enough to snoop through Gigi’s things.

She couldn’t tell Marjorie about the bra—that was too personal. She needed to find something flattering, something cute that made Gigi relatable to people.

The singing.

She snapped her fingers. Everyone loved a good romance. “Imogen has a crush,” she announced.

“Who?” Marjorie asked intently. “Someone other than Dirk? The politician she was photographed with?”

“Not the politician,” Holly lied to protect Gigi’s privacy. “But whoever it is has her singing.”

“This is fabulous. Well done, you.”

A cold drop of water fell on the middle of her head, making her flinch. It wasn’t well done at all, and hearing Marjorie gush about it didn’t make her feel any better.

“Holly, she needs to cut loose more. Encourage her to go out with this man.”

Apparently Gigi didn’t need any prodding to go out with him. It looked a done deal. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Excellent. Good job, Holly. I knew you’d rise to the occasion.” Her supervisor hung up.

Holly stared at her phone. There was nothing to do right now. She needed to go home.

By the time she reached her apartment, she was soaked. As she unlocked the door to let herself in, she stopped.
Jamie.
“Damn it to hell,” she yelled.

“Mum!” Jamie rushed out of the kitchen, eyes wide. He wore an apron—she had no idea where that’d come from—and he was covered in flour. “That was two curses in one.”

She blinked in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“Mr. Sands brought me home.”

Peter walked out of the kitchen, wearing a matching apron. He should have looked ridiculous, but his shoulders were broad and his sleeves rolled up to reveal ropey forearms that she’d never seen on any teacher.

Her heart kick-started, as she imagined stripping his shirt off. She bet he had a
nice
chest.

Blushing, she shook her head. Bad Holly, thinking those thoughts—in front of her child no less. “I forgot to call you,” she said helplessly to Peter.

“I asked the building manager to let us in.” Peter smiled. “We’re making dinner for you.”

“Pasta,” Jamie declared. “I’m a good chef, Mum. Wait till you see.”

“Dinner’s almost ready. Holly, why don’t you go put dry clothes on?” His gaze ate her up, like he was imagining stripping her out of the wet clothes himself.

Holy hell, she was in trouble. “Jamie,” she said taking out her wallet.

“Yes, Mum?” His eyes widened as she handed him five pounds.

“For the curse jar.” She ran a hand over his head and went to change.

***

The tomatoes were undercooked and the pasta was mushy.

Jamie built a leaning tower of broccoli, which collapsed and rolled all over the kitchen floor. She’d be finding broccoli florets in strange places for weeks to come.

Peter kept touching her.

It was the best dinner she’d ever had.

It was nothing overt—he was respectful of Jamie. But when Jamie wasn’t paying attention, Peter managed to put his hands on her in some way. She shivered, thinking of when his hand had snaked under her hair and he’d massaged her neck.

No one had touched her in
so long
.

She listened to Jamie and Peter tell her about their days, and then she told them about hers—minus the last bit with Marjorie. They all cleared the table, and she sent Jamie to wash up and get ready for bed.

Leaving her alone in the kitchen with Peter.

Silence fell over them as they stared at each other.

She cleared her heart from her throat, putting her hands behind her, not sure what to do. “Thank you for today. I can’t believe I forgot the time.”

“It happens more than you know.” He smiled. “Jamie and I had a nice afternoon together.”

“Jamie’s never had a man in his life.”

Peter frowned. “Are you saying I’m overstepping my bounds?”

“I don’t know what I’m saying.” She swallowed. “I’m in uncharted territory.”

Comprehension lit his face. “Maybe we could navigate this together, then.”

She looked at his mouth. Her lips tingled like he was kissing her, but he wasn’t even holding her hand.

It both excited and scared her, that he could affect her like this without a single touch. She averted her eyes and tried to retreat. “You should probably go. We’ve disrupted your evening enough.”

“You’re not a disruption.”

Something crashed, and from his bedroom Jamie yelled, “I’m okay.”

She arched her brow at Peter. “You were saying?”

“Your smile is so beautiful.” Staring at her like he was in wonder, he touched the corner of her mouth. “I’ve wanted to kiss it for so long, to taste it to see if it’s as sweet as it looks.”

She wanted to throw her arms around him. She wanted to beg him to stay, to wait until Jamie was asleep and then to just
take her
. She wanted to throw caution to the wind and clear the kitchen table in one swoop of her arm and demand that he pleasure her right then and there.

But that was how she’d gotten in trouble in the first place.

She wasn’t that girl anymore. She had Jamie to think about, and who in their right mind would want more complications?

“Mum!”

The shout jarred her from her thoughts.

Peter rubbed her lower lip with his thumb. “I should go.”

She nodded, both meaning it and not.

“I had a great time tonight, Holly.” He lowered his head slowly, giving her time to stop him.

No way was she stopping him.

His lips touched hers, soft and warm. He explored her without pushing, as if he knew how skittish she was. At the end, he tipped her head back and gave her a taste of a real kiss.

“
Mum!
”

She startled away from him, her hand on her heart.

“I’ll go.” Peter smiled at her, looking nothing at all like a headteacher, and left her to put her son to bed.

Holy hell
. She leaned against the counter, trying to catch her breath.

“Mum, where are you? I’m waiting.”

“I’ll be right there.” She opened her wallet, took out a pound, and put it in the curse jar herself.

Chapter Ten

“Where’s the tequila?” Portia asked, looking through the liquor bottles on the side table they’d converted into a bar.

“Since when do you drink tequila?” Gigi asked, kicking off her shoes and joining Luca on the floor. The room had been their father’s study—austere and off-limits. Since his death, they’d been slowly reclaiming it, turning it into their own den.

“I don’t, but I invited Viola over to join us, and I wanted to make sure she’d be happy.”

Gigi smiled at her sister. Portia had always been the most foreign of her siblings, but since she’d been home she’d realized she’d underestimated Portia. They all had. “Do you think Vi will show up?”

“Honestly? No.” Portia frowned over her shoulder. “She’s been scarce lately, hasn’t she? But I can hope.”

Talk about hoping. “I invited Titania.”

“The mystery sister?” Luca sat up, interest lighting his eyes. “Will she come?”

“I doubt it.” Gigi dug her toes in the furry rug they’d put in front of the fireplace. “I’m going to drag her along sometime, though. It’s ridiculous that she won’t come.”

“She was always the most stubborn.” Portia handed them each drinks. Reaching for her own, she plumped a pillow on the floor and joined them.

Luca pretended to gape. “
She
is the most stubborn? Are you certain? Because, of your sisters, I know which I’d say has the hardest head.”

Gigi and Portia exchanged looks. Gigi patted his knee. “Poor Luca. She’ll come around.”

His expression soured. “I don’t think any of us believe that.”

True. “Maybe you should make your intentions known.”

Portia nodded. “Launch an assault.”

“I thought I heard lovely voices in here,” their mother said.

They looked up to find their mother in the doorway of the study. She wore cashmere head to toe and an equally soft look of longing, like she was an outsider who wanted in.

It broke Gigi’s heart to see it. She’d never considered herself a bad daughter, but now she wondered if she couldn’t have been better. She patted the seat next to her, moving her feet. “Mum, come join us.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude.” She looked askance at them all.

“We’d love if you joined us, Mother,” Portia said softly.

“We’re family,” Luca added.

Jacqueline’s eyes glistened, but she smiled and sat on the floor.