Emma
Emma wanted to squirm.
It was seriously hot and seriously intense under Jake’s unrelenting gaze.
And, oh, didn’t he just know it was.
She shouldn’t have said anything.
Despite the fact she’d been fuming before she sat down because what was worse than being caught being nervous?
Yeah – being called out publicly for being nervous.
So what if she’d been acting more confident than she felt? Whatever got her through, she’d been thinking.
Right along with wondering whether she’d ever met a more arrogant jerk in her life.
But then he’d started presenting his ideas and, darn it, because she’d joked that he didn’t have a romantic bone in his body but as he’d talked about his vision, she’d heard the story he wanted to tell with the garden he was creating.
She’d been seriously impressed and it had made her want to show him how committed to doing a good job at The Clock House she was. How serious she took this opportunity. That she wasn’t some starving actress who’d just pitched up to have a laugh, do a little sight-seeing, and grab a pay-cheque at the end of each week. So she’d taken his idea and given it a good outing.
The shock on his face when she’d actually ventured her opinion though.
But instead of going apoplectic, he’d done a total one-eighty on her and listened.
Proper listened.
Which she’d found proper sexy!
No.
Wrong word choice, she told herself.
She was not in Whispers Wood for proper sexy!
She was in Whispers Wood for an adventure.
No … not that kind of adventure, she cut herself off before her imagination could take itself out for a spin again.
She hadn’t realised how much she’d needed to feel as if she was heard.
Really heard.
That was all, she assured herself.
All those years of keeping the faith while getting one knock-back after another, she’d obviously started to feel invisible. That what she had to say and every way she tried saying it at auditions, was irrelevant.
Jake’s reaction had made her realise he wasn’t so arrogant, after all. Not if he could take feedback on something that was obviously the most important thing in his world and rise above criticism to take the good out of what she’d voiced.
Then he’d grabbed a pencil and rather than stab her in the eye with it, he’d started sketching. Long, sure lines, and oh my God, how cute was it that the tip of his tongue poked out in concentration? Making her squirm for an altogether different reason.
A couple more lines and then he was shoving the sketch in front of her and asking her, ‘You mean something like this?’
She took the sketch with hands that were trembling, very aware of Kate, Daniel and Juliet leaning forward to get a good look at what he’d drawn, too.
She looked down at the sketch, drew in a breath that felt funny and then gazed back up at him slightly star-struck because it was like he’d created exactly what she’d been imagining.
‘Um, yes,’ she said, looking back down at the sketch because looking up at him had her completely unable to concentrate. ‘Maybe make these site-lines wider for wheelchair access and so that you can bring tables and chairs into each segment.’
He nodded, walking around the table to stand behind her and stare at the sketch. ‘Need to figure out a way to make the walls the gardens and so that everyone could see each one. I don’t know – maybe turntables?’
Excitement sparked and she nodded. ‘Then you could turn them to get the best of the weather, and to change each view. Ooh, could you tie in each movement to the clock?’
‘Great idea,’ he mumbled, leaning over her so that she felt surrounded by him. ‘Yes,’ he breathed out softly and she felt the caress of his breath against her cheek.
Actual squirming ensued.
As if finally realising he was in her personal space his gaze flew to hers and as her tongue came out without her permission to slide over parched lips, she watched mesmerised as those dark brown eyes of his tracked the movement. One, two, three slow thuds of her heart and then Jake was jerking upright and taking a hasty step back.
Able to breathe again, Emma inhaled and stared back down at the sketch.
‘So what do you guys think?’ Jake asked everyone around the table.
As Kate, Daniel and Juliet all agreed it was a wonderful new design, Jake began packing up. ‘I might need to see if Oscar’s free to handle some of the building work on this. Are we still shooting for having it ready by spring? I could start end of January?’
‘Yes. That would be great. About the noise?’
Jake smiled at Kate. ‘And the dust and the access, yeah, I’m not going to lie, there’s going to be some, but I’ll try to minimize it. If we could build the structures off-site, would that help?’
‘That would be amazing.’
‘Well, it’s not like I don’t have the room at my place. So we’ll start with that as a plan. I’ll get back to you with a revised quote ASAP,’ Jake said, moving towards the exit doors.
‘There’s no rush. I trust you,’ Kate laughed, getting up from the table to follow him out.
‘Actually, the reason for the rush is … I hope you don’t mind but Sarah showed me the invites for your party.’
‘She did?’
‘Normally she’d never do something like that, it’s just that she realised that the date was the same as—’
Emma watched Kate’s eyes grow large as she brought a hand up to her mouth.
‘Oh, crap, it’s not?’ Kate asked.
‘It is,’ Jake replied, ‘but it doesn’t matter. Truly.’
‘Of course it does.’
What mattered, Emma wanted to know? And what was so important about the fourteenth of December, which was the date of The Clock House opening?
‘No. It really doesn’t,’ Jake stated emphatically. ‘Look at it this way, most people around here are already going to have that date blocked out anyway, so you’ll probably get more people to come.’
‘But not you?’ Juliet asked, her tone sad as if she immediately understood what Jake had been trying to say.
‘No. I’m sorry, not me,’ Jake confirmed. ‘I won’t be in Whispers Wood at all over Christmas—’
‘Oh.’
‘—and I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t make a big thing about it,’ he asked, looking from Kate to Juliet.
‘No. Fair enough,’ Juliet said.
Emma watched as Kate touched Jake’s arm briefly and said, her voice quiet and gentle, ‘If anyone gets what it feels like to want to disappear for a while …’
Emma saw the flash of pain before Jake blinked it away and replied, ‘Thank you. I knew you’d get it.’
Get what? Why did he need to get away?
Darn it, she had absolutely no reason to feel disappointed that he wouldn’t be around for Christmas. It wasn’t like she’d be here on the actual day, anyway. Not if her Dad did what she was pretty sure he would do and invited her to spend the day with him and his wife and children.
Jake was just disappearing through the doors when she realised he’d left his jacket on the back of the chair.
Gathering it up, she called out, ‘Hey, Sir Knightley.’
She watched him pause at the doorway, stiffen slightly, and then turn around.
Wow, he really wanted to leave, didn’t he?
‘Your jacket,’ she said and performed a little curtsey. She’d meant to make him smile but felt silly when he strode back to her and took it without looking at her.
A tinkling sound could be heard as something fell onto the floor between them.
‘Oops, I think something’s fallen out of your pocket.’ Automatically she bent down to pick up the sparkly bead of glass. Holding it out in her palm she watched Jake frown down at it.
‘That’s definitely not mine. It must be from the—’ he broke off and glanced up at the chandelier.
There was an audible gasp as Kate and Juliet glanced from the chandelier to the droplet of glass and then to Jake and Emma.
‘It’s like a sign,’ Kate exclaimed and then shut her mouth quickly and after a strange look at Juliet carried on an entirely non-verbal conversation with her cousin.
With more head-turning than a tango on the Strictly final, Emma asked, ‘What’s a sign?’
‘Forget it. It couldn’t be less of a sign,’ Jake bit out, his expression murderous as he snatched the glass out of Emma’s hand and handed it to Kate. ‘It’s a bit of glass that fell off the chandelier because it was loose.’
‘Um, what he said,’ Kate mumbled, taking the glass droplet and holding it to her chest. ‘I’ll reattach it safely.’
‘Could have had someone’s eye out,’ Jake muttered, putting his plans on the floor so that he could shrug into his jacket. ‘I’ll be back later with the revised quote.’
In silence four pairs of eyes watched him bend down to pick up his plans, turn on his heel and walk towards the doors but before he disappeared completely from sight, Juliet dragged in a breath and called out, ‘Hey, Jake?’ He paused and didn’t turn around. ‘Stop by the salon after you drop the quote off. I’ll give you a couple of different choices to the man-bun.’
‘Appreciate it,’ he murmured and walked off.
‘What the hell was that all about?’ Emma said as soon as she heard his footsteps crunching on the gravel outside.
‘I felt bad for him,’ Juliet said.
‘I think she meant about the chandelier,’ Daniel said, grinning as he started loading up the tray with empties. ‘Could you two have been more obvious?’
‘About what?’ Kate asked, doing a really bad impression of appearing mystified.
‘What do you mean, “about what”?’ Emma asked. ‘A bit of the chandelier drops off and suddenly Jake’s setting his engines to warp and scarpering.’
‘Oh that. That was nothing. A bit of village folklore fun that is in no way serious.’
‘You two are the worst actresses in the world.’ Emma eye-balled the both of them until Kate gave in.
‘Okay, okay. It’s just that Jake is a bit sensitive at the moment.’
‘About folklore?’
‘About the chandelier,’ Juliet said.
Emma looked up at the light radiating sparkly warmth over the room and then looked at Kate.
‘And about other stuff,’ Kate supplied.
She wanted so, so badly to ask what the other stuff was, but she didn’t.
Kate and Juliet were obviously trying to protect Jake and from a couple of conversations and some observation, Jake was a proud and private man and, if that flash of pain was anything to go by, definitely feeling humiliated about something.
She realised she didn’t have the right to know.
She was the newcomer and needed to earn that right.
Double darn.
It was going to burn her up inside not being able to ask questions about him without coming across as being ‘interested’.
Which she wasn’t.
In the slightest.