‘I’ll come back with some more provisions shortly,’ Andy told them. ‘Some stuff for breakfast. There’s already white wine in the fridge, and red wine in the cupboards, along with coffee, tea and biscuits, etc. But I’ll bring down some fresh bread, eggs and bacon.’
‘Well, I won’t be here,’ Jess returned before he could escape. ‘I have to get back to Catherine’s. I won’t be back till late tonight.’
‘Oh, right. I forgot. I also forgot to thank you for what you’re doing, Jess. Catherine rang me and told me about the dress. You are one clever girl, isn’t she, Ben? Fancy being able to sew like that.’
‘She’s amazing,’ Ben said.
Jess just smiled, awake to his many compliments.
The moment they were alone Ben gave her a narrow-eyed look. ‘You won’t be staying in that bedroom tomorrow night.’
She glowered at him, never being at her best when men started ordering her around. ‘Maybe I will,’ she bit out. ‘If you start acting like some jerk.’
That sent him back in his heels. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I run my own race, Ben. I don’t like men telling me what to do and when to do it.’
‘Is that so?’
Ben stood up and strode over to her, taking her firmly by the shoulders and pulling her hard against him. She didn’t struggle, or protest. Just stared up at him with wide, dilated eyes. Ben could actually feel her galloping heartbeat. She thought she didn’t like to be ordered around, but he knew that a lot of strong-minded women liked their lovers to take charge.
It came to him that she’d probably never had a dominant lover before. What an exciting thought!
He could hardly wait for tomorrow night to come.
‘When the time is right, Jess,’ he said quietly, his eyes intense on hers, ‘you will like me telling you what to do. Trust me on this. But, for now, perhaps you should get going. Because if you stay I won’t be responsible for what might happen.’
Jess left the cottage in a fluster, her body cruelly turned on and her thoughts totally scattered.
Trust him, he’d said. To do what? Turn her into some kind of mindless sex slave?
At this moment she didn’t doubt he could do it. If she let him.
Did she want that to happen?
The answer to that question lay in her thudding heart and rock-hard nipples.
Suddenly, Jess was overwhelmed by a wave of desire so strong that she almost ran off the road. Giving herself a savage mental shake, she slowed down to a crawl, then turned shakily into Catherine’s driveway, proceeding very carefully up the cement road, grateful now that she had a job to do which would take her most of the evening; very grateful that she had no reason to go back to that seductive cottage till well after Ben had left with Andy for their night on the town. Thank heavens he wouldn’t get home till the small hours of the morning. By which time she would be sound asleep.
Jess had to laugh over that one. There would be no sleeping for her tonight.
But at least she could pretend she was asleep.
* * *
Things didn’t turn out quite like that, however. Jess finished the dress around nine-thirty, after which she refused all offers of wine, saying she was tired, then drove back to the cottage. In actual fact she’d only just remembered that she’d promised to give her mother a ring. This she did whilst she opened a bottle of the white wine resting in the door of the fridge. She poured herself a large glass, sipping it as she sat at the kitchen table, and gave her mother an edited version of what had happened, telling her the truth about the dramas over the wedding and how she’d fixed the dress tonight, plus the plan for her to be a substitute matron of honour the next day. Naturally, she didn’t mention anything about her being thought of as Ben’s girlfriend or that she was staying with him, alone, in this cottage. She admitted staying as a guest at the winery but that was all.
‘It sounds like it’s been a rather surprising trip so far,’ her mother said.
‘It certainly has,’ Jess agreed with considerable irony as she poured herself a second glass of wine.
‘You’ll have to ring me tomorrow night and tell me all about the wedding.’
Jess winced. She could hardly tell her mother why that wasn’t going to happen.
‘Mum, the wedding’s not till late in the afternoon. By the time the reception is over and I get to bed, it’s going to be very late and I’m going to be exhausted. I’ll call you on Sunday morning. But not too early, mind. I might sleep in.’ Jess was grateful that her mother couldn’t see inside her head at this moment, as the images in there were not fit for a caring mother’s consumption.
‘Oh, all right,’ her mother said. ‘But don’t forget to take some photos. I’d love to see what you looked like. What you all looked like, actually. Which reminds me. What does this Ben fellow look like? You said he was nice but I have a feeling he’s good-looking, am I right?’
‘Yes, he’s very good-looking,’ she admitted, struggling to keep her voice calm in the face of a looming panic attack over her sexual inadequacies. ‘And very tall.’
‘Tall, dark and handsome, eh?’
‘No, he’s actually fair-haired, with blue eyes.’
‘And how old, did you say?’
‘I don’t know. Early thirties, perhaps.’
‘And rich?’
‘Filthy rich, Mum. His father’s a billionaire.’
‘Goodness. And did you tell him that you lost your job at Fab Fashions because of him?’
‘I did mention it. And he promised to see what he could do.’
‘Well, that was nice of him. But did he mean it?’
The jury was still out on that score. ‘Maybe. I guess we’ll have to wait and see, Mum. Now, I really must go. I’m tired.’ That was a lie. She had so much adrenaline flowing through her body at the moment that she had no hope of sleeping. That was why she was downing all this wine; sometimes wine made her sleepy. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to be working.
‘Driving can be very tiring,’ her mother said. ‘Goodnight, darling. Sleep tight. Love you.’
Jess suddenly came over all emotional.
‘Love you too, Mum,’ she choked out, then hung up.
Jess decided after her third glass of wine that it definitely wasn’t working. So she put the half-drunk bottle back in the fridge and headed for the bathroom. A long, hot bath filled in another hour but didn’t relax her one iota. She’d just emerged from the bathroom, dressed in a nightie, when she heard a car screech to a stop in front of the cottage. Running to the front living room, Jess peered through the curtains in time to see Ben climb out of the back of a taxi.
Flustered—what on earth was he doing home this early?—she whirled to make a dash for the bedroom, in her haste catching her left foot under the curled up corner of a rug. She cried out as she fell, her hands bracing themselves to protect her face whilst her knees hit the wooden floorboards with a painful thud.
Ben heard Jess cry out as he made his way up onto the front veranda. He dashed inside, switching on the hall light and calling her name at the same time.
He found her sitting back on her haunches in the semi-dark on the living-room floor, dressed in a red satin nightie with spaghetti straps which showed off her gorgeous figure. Her lovely hair was down, spread over her shoulders in dishevelled disarray, adding to the criminally sexy picture she presented.
‘What happened?’ he asked, and held out his left hand to help her up.
‘I fell over,’ she said, but made no move to take his hand, her eyes on her ground. ‘My foot got caught under the rug.’
‘I see,’ he said, not seeing at all. What was she doing in this room, anyway? The lights weren’t on. Neither was the television. ‘Well, do you want to take my hand or are you going to stay there all night?’ he said, his tone betraying his inner frustration.
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