Lessons in Rule-Breaking (6 page)

But instead of telling her to get out of his house, he picked up his sketchbook and pencil again and started to scribble away as if she weren’t even in the room.

She sat for a minute or two, waiting to see whether he’d speak to her again, but he steadfastly ignored her.

‘Look, I’m sorry for losing my temper. I’m just feeling a bit...out of my depth at the moment.’

Still nothing. Not even an acknowledgement that she’d spoken.

‘O-okay, then...well...’ she stuttered, scrunching up the napkin from her lap and dropping it onto the plate in front of her. ‘On that bombshell, I’ll let you get on with your picture and get back to my hotel.’

Perhaps once she’d had a good night’s sleep everything would look rosier in the morning and they could start afresh. She tried not to shudder as she remembered the insect-infested room that awaited her.

He said nothing as she slid out of her seat, stooping to pick up her shoes. She decided against putting them back on, mainly because it would delay her leaving, but also because her poor aching feet would have screamed at her to stop torturing them if she had.

‘Goodnight, Xander,’ she said to the top of his head before walking away from him, not daring to look back and catch the look of amusement that
had
to be taking over that unnervingly handsome face of his.

* * *

Slumping back against his chair and dropping his sketch pad and pencil onto the table, Xander watched Jess stalk out of the dining room in her stockinged feet, her shoes swinging from her fingers at her side.

A slow burn of shame worked its way through him.

Perhaps he’d pushed things a little too far with that last comment? Judging by her violent reaction to it,
she
certainly seemed to think so. He’d found it amusing to play with her when he’d realised she was actually more nervous around him than she’d previously let on, but he really should apologise tomorrow and see if he could get her back on side once she’d calmed down.

He wouldn’t usually entertain the idea of letting a journalist get anywhere close to him, but he liked Jess. There was something about her that fascinated him, something about her stoic determination not to let him get to her that made him want her more than anyone he’d met in a very long time. The thought of drawing her out of that brittle shell she protected herself with was thrilling. It did something disconcerting to him, causing a twisting heat to take him over and make him reckless—something he’d been determined not to be again until his new exhibition was in the bag, but teasing her had been such a turn-on. He’d love to see how she responded to a serious onslaught of flirting and whether he could change her mind about not wanting to sleep with him. He’d been surprised and not a little rankled when she’d said that earlier, and the narcissist in him wanted to prove her wrong. It had been a long time since a woman had turned him down, which made it a point of pride.

He knew she felt
some
sort of attraction to him because of the unconscious way she responded when she was around him. Her pupils flared when she looked his way and her body language became charmingly jerky and more drawn towards him.

So why was she fighting it so hard?

He had no idea, but he was going to enjoy finding out.

* * *

Jess got back to her hotel room in a state of nervy agitation.

Her dinner with Xander had shot her adrenaline levels into the red, but now she’d calmed down she felt utterly exhausted by it all.

Lying in her bed, she allowed her thoughts to skip over what had happened earlier. A small voice in her head started to whisper something about overreacting a bit. Hot embarrassment trickled through her as she thought about how uncomfortable she’d felt around Xander and how that had
perhaps
made her act a
little
more edgily than normal. He hadn’t actually said or done anything
that
bad. He was clearly deliberately trying to wind her up—and she’d let him succeed.

Rubbing a hand across her scalp, she tried to wake up her sluggish brain. What the heck was she doing? She needed to
chill
and stop going at Xander like a harpy with a headache if she had any chance of getting him to trust her enough to talk about anything personal.

She was a smart, educated woman with good conversation skills; she could get what she needed for the article if she just stopped jumping down his throat every time he opened his mouth. No way was she going back to Pamela without something sensational to use in the magazine.

She was going to have to work harder at it, be tenacious.

It was totally doable.

As long as she could keep this crazy compulsion to get up close and personal with him out of her head.

Another scuttling sound, this time from the corner of the room, made her sit up and flick the bedside light back on. She couldn’t see anything, but somehow that was worse. What if the insects crawled up the sides of the bed and found their way under the covers with her? The thought of it made her heart hammer and her skin crawl with disgust. Wrapping the sheets round her like a cocoon, she tried not to think about it and relax into sleep.

The scratching noise came again, this time from the other side of the room. Finding her earphones from her handbag, she stuffed them into her ears, connected them to her MP3 player and turned the music right up. Putting the pillow over her head, she hoped, would be enough to ward off any uninvited bedfellows.

Her thoughts drifted back to Xander and what he would be doing right now. Perhaps he’d be in the shower, washing off the grime of the day, water and suds cascading down that impressive body of his as he soaped himself down?

The mere thought of it made her blood fire round her body again.

Her legs were twitching now as she lay there desperately trying to turn her thoughts to something innocuous so she could drift into a much-needed sleep.

Between the apprehension of dealing with Xander again and the worry about warding off the bugs, she seemed to have kicked herself back into a state of anxious alertness.

Sighing, she burrowed deeper into the covers and started counting sheep. She had a horrible feeling it was going to be a long night.

FOUR

Xander had to
check the address of the hotel that Rosa had given him twice before he finally concluded he was in the right place. Was Jess really staying in this dump?

An unfriendly receptionist finally gave him Jess’s room number and he walked along the grimy corridor and banged on her door with an unnerving sense of discomfort.

He’d woken up early that morning after a dream about Jess where she’d been buried under an avalanche of snow and he’d not been able to get close enough to rescue her. It was the most bizarre thing he’d ever dreamt—not least because he barely knew her—and the sense of loss it provoked had left a dragging sorrow in his chest that unnerved him so much he’d had to get straight up and go for a walk to clear his head.

Apparently his subconscious was feeling very guilty about how he’d treated her the night before. So, here he was, cap in hand and ready to apologise for his insensitivity in the hope he hadn’t driven her away for good.

The door finally swung open to reveal a rather dishevelled-looking Jess, still in her pyjamas and with her normally immaculate bob of hair sticking up wildly around her pale face. The dark bags under her eyes made him suspect she hadn’t slept well either.

Her face went from ghostly pale to beet-red in the space of a second when she realised it was him at the door and her hands flew straight up to flatten down her thatch of hair.

‘Xander? What are you doing here?’

‘I came to invite you over for breakfast and to say sorry for being an idiot last night.’

Jess stared at him in wide-eyed astonishment. ‘Wow. Am I dreaming or did Xander Heaton just
apologise
to me?’

He snorted and leant against the doorjamb, watching in amusement as she took a stumbling step back into the room.

‘It’s real. Consider me humbled.’

She dipped her head and gave him a genuine smile. ‘Apology accepted. Thank you for coming all the way over here. That’s very decent of you.’

He batted her praise away, but acknowledged the feeling of satisfaction it brought, relieved she seemed to have forgiven him for his egotism. ‘You were right. I was being an idiot.’

‘Yeah, well, I wasn’t exactly sweetness and light last night either,’ she said, pulling her arms tightly across her chest, which only drew his attention to the large swell of her breasts. ‘I’m sorry for being so narky.’

‘Okay. So we’re both sorry. That’s great. Let’s put it behind us.’

‘Good idea.’

They stood looking at each other and an awkward silence crept up, making the air between them hum with tension.

‘Nice place you have here,’ Xander said, in an attempt to break it, shooting her a mischievous grin.

Her shoulders tensed. ‘Yeah, it was the only room I could find at short notice.’

There was a loud scratching noise that seemed to be coming from inside the wall next to him.

He frowned hard. ‘What the hell is that?’

She shrugged, her expression giving away her own disgust. ‘Cockroaches, I think.’

The thought of her staying here in such awful conditions made him shudder. No wonder she looked as though she hadn’t slept all night. A sudden overwhelming urge to protect her hit him like a hammer to the chest.

‘You can’t stay here. There must be somewhere else available?’

‘There isn’t. I looked. Everywhere else is fully booked or totally out of my price range.’

‘Isn’t the magazine stumping up for your accommodation?’ he asked.

She shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. ‘There isn’t the budget to put me up somewhere expensive. I’m just a junior staffer,’ she said sheepishly, clearly worried he’d be offended that they hadn’t sent their top reporter to interview him.

The flash of vulnerability did something to his insides, making him squirm in sympathy for her.

‘Pack up your stuff. You’re staying with me.’

She blinked at him in surprise. ‘What?’

‘I have four spare bedrooms at the villa. It’s ridiculous for you to stay in this dump when there’s so much room at my place.’ He held up his hands, palms forward, when she frowned and started to shake her head.

‘Rosa’s there most of the time and the bedrooms have locks on the doors so you don’t need to worry about me taking advantage of you.’ He flipped her a grin in the hope she’d believe him. He couldn’t in all conscience let her stay here any longer. The place was disgusting and he hated the thought of her having to put up with it for a moment longer when it was no skin off his nose for her to stay with him.

‘But don’t you want your privacy?’ she hedged, rocking back on her heels.

He flapped a casual hand at her. ‘There’s enough room at the villa for us not to feel like we’re in each other’s pockets. You’re going to be spending most of your time there anyway, right?’

She took a moment to think it over, staring down hard at the floor.

‘I’ll wait for you in Reception,’ he said, moving back towards the door. ‘Rosa’s making breakfast so we’d better get back there soon.’ He hoped his authoritative tone would tip her into action. He suspected she needed quite a bit of pushing to get past her stubbornness.

After five minutes of pacing up and down in the reception area, he finally saw her appear out of her room, now fully dressed, and walk down the corridor towards him wheeling a small suitcase, her shoulders drawn forward and her head dipped with tiredness.

The dull grey, shapeless linen trouser suit she’d put on today did nothing to express the feistiness he’d seen the previous night—it swamped her frame, diminishing her impact with its banality. Why on earth did she choose to dress like that when she had such passion inside her?

He wondered idly what her body looked like underneath those baggy layers. Soft and inviting and too tantalising not to touch, he imagined. He’d love the opportunity to find out for sure.

‘Okay. I’d like to take you up on your kind offer,’ she said, coming to a halt in front of him, her chin tipped up defiantly as if she was afraid he’d think less of her for appearing so vulnerable. On the contrary, the fact she was daring enough to accept his help only made him like her more.

‘Great, give me your bag and I’ll meet you outside,’ he said, taking the suitcase from her. She didn’t stop him, clearly too tired today to put up a fight.

He waited outside by the car while she checked out, feeling the warmth of the early-morning sun seeping into his skin. Just being away from the city was already having a positive effect on him. The pace of life here was calming and he could feel the tension beginning to drain away. All he needed to do now was to utilise the growing sense of calm and the little flashes of inspiration Jess seemed to incite in him whenever she was around, and he could start to rebuild the confidence in his work he’d been missing.

He couldn’t even begin to explain to himself why she had such a big effect on him, but, hell, it didn’t matter, as long as the inspiration stayed around long enough for him to begin to create something he was proud of again. Already the sketches he’d done of Jess and the ideas she’d inspired in him were head and shoulders above anything he’d produced in the last year. There was finally life to his drawing again. Instead of the unimaginative marks on paper he’d had to drag out of himself up until this point.

Bizarre that she’d been the one to draw that out of him. She was nothing like the type of woman he usually hung around with, but there was something so beguiling about her.

Glancing back at the hotel, he saw Jess come out and blink in the sunlight as she looked around for him.

He gave her a wave and she walked stiffly over in those crazy high heels of hers and grabbed her case from him.

‘Okay. I’ll see you back at the villa,’ she said, already wheeling her case off to her own car, tension clear in her gait.

‘See you back there in ten,’ he said, ducking into the driving seat, impatient to get back for some well-earned breakfast and the opportunity to get to know this intriguing woman a little better.

* * *

When he arrived back at the villa, Rosa had already laid out the breakfast things on the terrace. Xander flopped into a seat and stared out at the spectacular view over the lake while he waited for Jess to arrive and join him.

She was only a couple of minutes behind him and he watched as she made her way gingerly over the path that ran around the house and came to a stop at the chair opposite where he sat.

‘Thank you for rescuing me from that place. You’re my hero,’ she said, flashing him a subdued grin and flopping down into the chair with a sigh.

Was she serious? Or was this her personal brand of sarcasm?

Man, it was unnerving not being able to read her easily. Perhaps the crux of their problem was they didn’t get each other’s sense of humour yet?

He chose to think she really meant what she said and smiled, relaxing back into his chair and hooking his arm over the backrest. ‘Actually, it
was
pretty heroic of me. I’m
not
a morning person and I got up a whole hour early to come and fetch you for breakfast.’ He chased this statement with a grin so she knew he was only joshing her.

Was that a flicker of appreciation he saw in her eyes? He was surprised by how much he hoped so.

Rosa came back and poured them each a cup of coffee, then put a plate loaded with toast and fruit in front of them. Jess frowned at it for a second before popping a piece of melon into her mouth and chewing it for rather longer than necessary before swallowing it.

‘I’d like to sketch you this morning, when we’ve finished breakfast,’ he said, before taking a long sip of the strong, aromatic coffee.

Her gaze shot to him, her eyes suddenly wild and uncertain.

‘Really?’ She cleared her throat, brushed some imaginary crumbs off her fingers, then smoothed her hands over her lap. ‘Okay.’

He frowned at her reaction. ‘What is it with you? You seem to be in a perpetual state of apprehension.’

She pushed her chair back and stood up so suddenly it made him jump. ‘I’m fine. Really.’ She gave him a shaky grin. ‘I’m going to get settled in my room, have a shower and psych myself up before we start if you don’t mind.’

He watched her walk away. Her body was rigid and her hands clenched at her sides as she moved awkwardly in her heels.

What the hell had he said wrong now?

* * *

After finding her outrageously luxurious room—which she investigated thoroughly before even taking her jacket and shoes off—Jess spent a while carefully unpacking her suitcase and hanging up her clothes in the enormous walk-in wardrobe. The soothing action of tidying was a welcome relief from dealing with the intensity of Xander’s charismatic presence and she took her sweet time over it in order to stall having to go back outside again and sit for his picture.

Her small collection of clothes looked sad and limp and rather pathetic all by themselves on the enormous rail and she shut the door hurriedly on them, not entirely sure where the sudden dragging feeling of gloom had come from.

It must be down to not having slept all night.

When Xander had suggested she move in here with him, her first instinct had been to categorically dismiss the idea, but with her head feeling as if it were stuffed with cotton wool and her body aching with tiredness she’d actually been pathetically grateful when he’d insisted on it. Just the thought of spending another sleepless night in that awful hotel had made her insides clench and squirm.

She’d been surprised at his offer, considering how resistant he’d been to giving her anything personal of himself the previous night. Perhaps she’d looked so pathetic when he’d found her there he’d had a crisis of conscience?

Anyway, whatever his reasons, logically it would be a whole lot easier to stay in the same place as Xander as it meant she could get a really good feel for how he spent his days while he worked on his paintings.

She took a hot, reviving shower in the beautiful, mosaic-tiled en-suite bathroom and dressed in her most comfortable clothes: a pair of indigo boyfriend jeans and a loose, long-sleeved, white cotton T-shirt and slipped her feet into a pair of flip-flops.

Taking one last, deep breath, she went back out to the garden to find Xander, ready for the session.

Blood thundered through her veins at the thought of him scrutinising her from every angle, and flashbacks from being bullied about her weight when she was younger flittered through her mind, but she refused to feel cowed by those awful memories. It had been a long time since she’d let her eating disorder get its teeth into her, and she’d come so far since then. She refused to let it drag her under again.

Xander was sitting on the terrace with his sketch pad and pencils, making large swirling motions over the paper. He tilted his head and smiled, eyebrows raised, as she drew closer to him and she wrapped her arms around her middle and gave him her bravest smile back. She had no idea what he must be thinking right now and blood pounded in her head as her agitation increased.

Suck it up, Jess. You’re doing this to save your career, remember?

If she could get through this modelling debacle, hopefully she’d have more opportunities to pump Xander for information.

The thought of ‘pumping’ in relation to Xander almost made her lose her cool for a second and she had to suck in a deep breath to steady herself. The low throb of arousal refused to budge from where it had nestled itself between the apex of her thighs, and she had to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other to stop herself from swivelling on the spot and making a run for it.

She sat uncomfortably in the chair opposite him, with the lake behind her, the sun hot on her already heated skin. Her muscles were so twitchy she wouldn’t be at all surprised to find she was visibly vibrating with tension.

Xander looked up and studied her for a moment, sketch pad on his knee, his bright eyes searching her face.

She wound her fingers together and placed them carefully on her lap, looking away over his shoulder in an attempt to distract herself from the discomfort of being studied so thoroughly by a man who made her insides jump and writhe as if they were filled with snakes.