Kate Hewitt - Modern Romance April 2016

The guard spoke to someone at Reception and then put his device back on his belt, his expression now as nice as pie. ‘Nice to meet you, Mr Ravensdale,’ he said. ‘Enjoy your stay. Oh, and by the way...’ He put on a big, cheesy grin. ‘Congratulations.’

* * *

Jake went back to the suite with his whole body coiled as tight as a spring. He pushed open the door to see Jaz getting ready for bed. ‘Where the bloody hell have you been?’ he said. ‘I’ve been scouring the hotel from top to bottom for the last hour looking for you.’

‘I went down to check on my dress before the room was locked.’

‘Did you not think to leave a note or a send me a text?’

A spark of defiance shone in her grey-blue gaze as it collided with his. ‘I assumed you were finished with me for the evening. You told me not to wait up.’

Jake smothered a filthy curse under his breath. ‘Do you have any idea of how damned worried I was?’

She looked at him blankly. ‘Why would you be worried?’

He pushed his hand back through his hair. ‘I was worried, that’s all.’

She came over to him to lay a hand on his arm. Her soft fingers warmed his flesh, making every one of his taut muscles unwind and others south of the border tighten. ‘Are you okay?’

Was he okay? No. He felt like he would never be okay again. Ever. His head was pounding with the mother of all headaches. His heart rate felt like someone had given him an overdose of adrenalin. Two overdoses. His legs were shaking. His guts had turned to gravy. ‘I’m fine.’ Even to his own ears he knew he sounded unnecessarily curt.

‘You don’t sound it,’ Jaz said, frowning at him in concern. ‘Are you unwell? Have you caught food poisoning or something? You look so pale and sweaty and—’

‘I almost got myself arrested.’

Her eyes rounded. ‘What on earth for?’

‘Long story.’

‘Tell me what happened, Jake,’ she said. ‘I need to know, since we’re here at this expo together, because it could reflect badly on me.’

Should he tell her it all or just a cut-down version? ‘I panicked when you weren’t in the suite. I didn’t know where you’d gone.’

She began to stroke his arm, her eyes as clear, still and lustrous as a mountain tarn as she looked into his. ‘Were you worried I wasn’t coming back?’

His hands came down on her shoulders in a grip that was unapologetically possessive. ‘I was out of my mind with worry,’ he said. ‘I tried to check the display room but the security guard gave me a hard time. And then he found me coming out of the ladies’ toilets—’

Her brow puckered. ‘Why’d you go in there?’

Jake swallowed. ‘I was worried someone might have cornered you in there and...’ He couldn’t even say what he’d thought. It was too sickening to be vocalised.

Her eyes softened. ‘Oh, you big goose,’ she said. ‘I’m a big girl now. I can fend for myself, but thanks anyway.’

He brought her closer so her hips were against his, watching the way her tongue came out to moisten her lips; it made every one of those muscles in his groin go rock-hard. ‘I swear to God I’ve aged a decade in the last hour.’

‘Doesn’t feel like it to me.’

He pressed her even closer. ‘I want you.’

A little light danced like a sprite in her gaze. ‘Again?’

He walked her backwards toward the bed, thigh to thigh, hip to hip, need to need. ‘How much sleep do you need?’ he said as he nibbled at her mouth, their breaths intermingling.

‘Seven hours—five in an emergency—otherwise I get ratty.’

Jake helped her out of her clothes with more haste than finesse. ‘I can handle ratty.’

She gave a tinkling laugh. ‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’

He put his mouth on her naked breast, drawing her tight nipple into his mouth. It was music to his ears to hear her breathless moan of pleasure. It made his blood pump all the more frantically. He pushed her gently down on the bed, shoving pillows, petals and clothes out of the way as he came down beside her. He wanted to go slow but his earlier panic did something to his self-control. He needed to be inside her. He needed to be fused with her, to have her writhing and shuddering as he took her to paradise. He needed to quell this feverish madness racing in his blood. Her body gripped him like a fist as he surged into her velvet heat. The ripples of her inner core massaged him inexorably closer to a mind-blowing lift-off. He held on only long enough to make sure she was with him all the way. When she came around him he gave a part-growl, part-groan as he lost himself to physical bliss...

CHAPTER ELEVEN

JAZ WAS TRYING not to show how nervous she was the next morning but Jake must have sensed it because he kept looking at her with a watchful gaze. She picked at the breakfast he had had delivered to their suite but barely any made it to her mouth.

‘At least have a glass of juice,’ he said, pushing a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice towards her.

‘I think I’m going to be sick.’

He took her hand from across the table and gave it an encouraging squeeze. ‘Sweetheart, you’re going to knock them for six down there.’

She bit down on her lip, panic and nerves clawing at her insides like razor blades whirled in a blender. ‘Who am I fooling? I’m just a gardener’s daughter from the wrong side of the tracks. What am I doing here pretending I’m a high street designer?’

‘Imposter syndrome,’ Jake said, leisurely pouring a cup of brewed coffee. ‘That’s what all this fuss is about. You don’t believe in yourself. You think you’ve fluked it, that someone is going to come up behind you and tap you on the shoulder and tell you to get the hell out of here because you’re not up to standard.’

That was exactly what Jaz was thinking. She had been thinking it most of her life. Being abandoned by her mother had always made her feel as if she wasn’t good enough. She tried so hard to be the best she could be so people wouldn’t leave her. But invariably they eventually did. Three times she had got engaged and each time it had ended. Her fiancés had ended it, not her. She was ashamed to admit she might well have married each and every one of them if they hadn’t pulled the plug first. She was so terrified of failing, she over-controlled everything: her work, her relationships, her life. Her business was breaking even...just. But she’d had a lot of help. If it hadn’t been for Jake’s parents, she might never have got to where she was.

How long could she go on doing everything herself? She was constantly juggling. Sometimes she felt like a circus clown on stilts with twenty plates in the air. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d taken a holiday. She took her work everywhere. She had Holly’s dress with her in case there was a spare minute to work on the embroidery. She hadn’t had a chance to draw a single sketch for Miranda. How long could she go on like that? Something had to give. She was going to get an ulcer at this rate. Maybe she already had one.

‘You’re right,’ she said on a sigh. ‘Every time I get myself to a certain place, I make myself sick worrying it’s going to be ripped out from under me.’

‘That’s perfectly understandable given what happened with your mother.’

Jaz lowered her gaze as she smoothed out a tiny crease in the tablecloth. ‘For years I waited for her to come back. I used to watch from the window whenever a car came up the drive. I would get all excited thinking she was coming back, that she had got herself sorted out and was coming back to take me to the new life she’d always promised me. But it never happened. I haven’t heard from her since. I don’t even know if she’s still alive.’