Lessons in Rule-Breaking (8 page)

He glanced up and caught her staring at him.

‘Everything okay, Jess?’

She flushed in embarrassment at being caught out. ‘I’m fine. Just thinking how strange it is to be sitting here with you.’

‘Strange?’ He looked puzzled at her choice of word.

‘Good strange. Not the sort of thing that ever happens to me. I live a pretty uneventful life usually.’

He leant back in his chair and considered her for a moment. ‘Believe it or not, my life can be pretty dull, too. Especially when I spend a lot of time holed up on my own working on my paintings. That’s why I like working with models. Having you around is a welcome relief from the usual boredom, to be honest.’

She raised her eyebrows and sat up, crossing her arms in front of her. She’d never considered his life could be like that, not when, according to the papers, he seemed to live such a hedonistic existence. ‘That doesn’t sound like a fun way to live.’

‘It’s not.’

‘So why do you do it?’

* * *

Jess’s question made Xander pause. It had been a long time since anyone had got close enough to ask him a question like that. He usually held journalists at arm’s length when they were after personal details and none of the women he’d dated recently seemed interested in the
why
, only in what he could offer them in the
now
. But he found he wanted to talk to her about this side of him. Perhaps to prove to her he wasn’t the cold-hearted playboy she clearly had him pegged as.

‘It’s my calling. What I feel I’m meant to be doing with my life. It makes life worth living. I think I’d wither and die if I had to go and work in an office every day.’

She smoothed a hand over her perfectly straight hair, which distracted him for a second as he wondered what it would feel like to run his own hands through it. It would be soft and silky as it slid through his fingers; he was sure of it.

‘Are you worried about how your next exhibition’s going to be received?’ she asked, pulling him rudely out of his hair-fondling fantasy.

Get it together, Xander, for goodness’ sake.

He shifted in his chair, going for relaxed nonchalance while he considered her question carefully, giving himself a few moments to formulate an evasive, but meaty answer. Apparently she was going to keep hammering at this line of interrogation and he was going to have to watch what he said in front of her.

‘I’m walking on a knife-edge the whole time. There are hundreds of new faces appearing each year, desperate to step into the limelight. I have to produce something pretty damn special every time or I’ll sink. That’s a lot of pressure right there.’

‘What do your parents think about your success?’ she asked, looking down as she realigned the position of her cutlery on the table in front of her.

Clearing his throat, he put on the indifferent smile he’d perfected over the years. ‘They’re both dead.’

She looked up sharply. ‘Oh, Xander, I’m so sorry. So you’re on your own?’

‘Yup. It’s just me and my
massive ego
now.’

Her cheeks flushed an adorable shade of pink. ‘Look, sorry about that. In my defence, I called it as I saw it at the time.’

He smiled. ‘You called it right. I was being a tool.’

She pushed her knife too far back on the table and it fell onto the floor. After reaching down to rescue it, she swiped her hair away from her flushed face before giving him an embarrassed grimace and shuffling her chair closer to the table.

Their food arrived and they both tucked in, neither of them saying a word for a couple of minutes. His lasagne was delicious and it didn’t take him long to make inroads into it.

Realising he was being rude concentrating on his food and not making conversation, he nodded at the half-eaten salad on her plate. ‘Good?’

‘Great,’ she said, popping a piece of tomato into her mouth.

‘So, Jess, tell me more about you. Are you married?’ She must have swallowed her tomato the wrong way because she coughed and spluttered on it, her eyes watering as she fought to get her breath back.

Granted, it was more personal and direct than anything he’d previously asked and rather out of the blue, but he really wanted to know more about her.

‘No,’ she said finally, shaking her head and looking down at the table.

He was surprised by the relief he felt. ‘Partner?’

‘Not for a couple of years now.’

‘Oh? Why did you split up—if you don’t mind me asking?’ He stood the ends of his cutlery on the table and gave her his full attention, intrigued as to how someone as attractive as Jess could have stayed single for so long.

She put her own cutlery onto her half-full plate before looking up at him. ‘He was a nice enough guy, but he didn’t make my heart sing.’

‘You mean he didn’t do it for you in the sack?’

Her attempt at a casual shrug was the worst bit of acting he’d ever seen.

‘We didn’t really click,’ she muttered, not looking him in the eye. He wondered what she wasn’t telling him. Had the guy abused her in some way? Just the thought of it made him suddenly inexplicably angry. Under that tough, shielded exterior, there was undoubtedly some deeply ingrained insecurity lurking. He’d seen flashes of it already and imagined he’d see more and more, the longer she stuck around.

‘Anyway, my turn. How come you’re not settled down with a partner?’ she said, clearly wanting to change the subject and shift the attention back onto him.

‘Serious relationships aren’t my thing. I like variety. And I like sex. Lots and lots of sex,’ he teased, wanting to get back to the light, flirtatious atmosphere they’d had earlier.

He wasn’t sure what Jess was thinking now. Her huge, dark eyes seemed to have taken on a faraway look and her mouth was drawn back in a faintly twisted grimace as though her smile had gone wrong somewhere along the line.

He’d made her uncomfortable with his suggestive comment and seemingly not in the way he’d intended.

He really shouldn’t be thinking about her like this, not when he’d promised himself he was taking a break from what the press liked to refer to as his philandering ways, but it was almost
impossible
when she looked the way she did, sitting there all buttoned up and tempting in front of him. He wanted to peel back her layers and peek at what was underneath. Hell, who was he kidding? He wanted to tear her clothes off right there in the restaurant and feast on her like a starving man.

She fiddled with the napkin on her lap, her eyes downcast again.

‘I’m just going to find the bathroom,’ she said suddenly, dumping the napkin on the table, pushing her chair back and going to stand up, then jerking to a stop, midrise, and sitting back down again, a look of shock on her face.

‘Jess? What’s wrong?’

‘Um, I think my top’s caught on the chair. I don’t seem to be able to move.’

He couldn’t help but laugh at her predicament, until he noticed the look of utter horror on her face. She tried standing up again, but the wrought-iron chair kept her in her place. Her eyes were wide with worry now.

‘I’m stuck!’

He got up and scooted round to the back of her chair to find that some of the loops of her knitted top had somehow wound themselves around the swirls of the patterned metal back.

‘Sit still, I’ll get you free,’ he said, trying to get his hands down between the narrow gap between her body and the back of the chair. He worked on the caught bits for a few moments, feeling the heat of Jess’s humiliation burning into him as she sat as still as she could.

His large, clumsy fingers couldn’t get the loops out from where they were caught in the iron maze, which seemed to have inexplicably closed around them.

‘Jess, I’m sorry, it’s no good, you’re going to have to take your top off so I can get it free. I can’t work in such a small space.’

He went to lift the hem of her jumper but she put her hand firmly on top of his, stilling the movement. He looked directly into her face and she shook her head hard, fear flashing in her eyes.

What the hell?

‘I don’t want you to see my body.’ She was trembling.

He frowned. ‘Why not?’

Twitching her head from side to side, she looked away from him.

‘Jess? What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing, nothing...it’s just...I can’t take my top off in the middle of the restaurant.’ Her voice came out all squeaky and panicked.

‘Well, you’re going to have to wear the chair home, then,’ he said, exasperation at not being able to help her coming through clearly in his tone. ‘Whatever possessed you to wear a wool top in this heat anyway?’

He stepped away as she started jerking madly away from the chair as if it would miraculously let her go if she showed enough determination.

‘Jess, you’re going to ruin...’ But it was too late. There was a loud tearing noise as the delicate material came apart under the force of her tugging. Unfortunately some of the strands were still wound tightly around the chair back so the top still wouldn’t come free.

Jess stilled, as if she’d been turned to stone, then pressed herself hard back against the chair to hide the ruined back of her top, staring up at him with such a look of abject misery it made his stomach turn over.

‘Okay, this is ridiculous.’ He pulled open the buttons on his shirt and took it off, ignoring the titters and murmurs of the diners around them who were clearly enjoying the show. ‘I’ll hold this around you while you take your top off, then you can wear it while we free your jumper.’

‘Okay,’ Jess said, nodding her head unhappily in agreement, managing to look as if he’d just suggested she leap across a pit of poisonous snakes for him.

He looked away as he held his shirt around her so she could struggle out of her jumper without flashing the entire restaurant, then slide her arms into the sleeves. He let go as she pulled it closed around her and attempted to do up the buttons with trembling fingers.

After a couple of frustrating moments of watching her totally fail to do up one single button, he knocked her hands away, knelt down next to the chair and did them up for her.

He could feel her eyes on his face as he worked his way down the shirt, his fingers skirting tantalisingly close to the swell of her breasts.

‘Some people would suspect this was a cunning ploy to get me to take my shirt off in public,’ he murmured, flipping her a grin, which she returned, albeit humbly. ‘There you go.’ He stood back so she could get up from the chair.

‘Thank you.’ She looked really grateful for his help and something lifted in his chest. He quickly released the jumper from the chair back.

‘My pleasure. Shall we get out of here, before this crowd asks for an encore?’

‘Yes. Good idea,’ Jess said, reaching into her handbag and grabbing a handful of euros, which she dropped onto the table. He dropped his own share for the meal next to it and handed some of her money back to her. ‘You don’t need to pay for me.’

She didn’t answer, just nodded and gave him a grateful smile. He had no idea what she was thinking; from the look in her eyes she seemed to have retreated far away into her own head.

He strode out of the restaurant, aware of the amused glances of the other diners as he passed by them, half-naked and standing out like a sore thumb, with Jess hot on his heels. He gave them all a salute as he reached the door and ushered Jess outside. She ran over to the car and he unlocked the doors so she could get straight in. He swung himself into the driving seat and burst out laughing, turning to look at her and share the joke, but she was staring straight ahead, her back ramrod-straight and her hands clutched tightly in her lap.

‘Jess?’

She turned to look at him, her expression wild and her face flaming red. ‘Can we go?’ It came out as a hushed gasp. She flapped the front of the shirt, clearly trying to cool herself down. He frowned at her extreme reaction. It was warm in the car, but not sweltering.

He started up the engine and drove out of the car park, heading back to the villa. ‘You okay?’ he asked.

‘I’m fine. Just hot. Is it hot in here?’ She wafted the shirt forward and back creating a slight draught of air, staring hard at the dashboard.

‘Not really.’ He put a hand on her arm and felt the heat of her skin sear through the cotton of the shirt. ‘Jess, what’s going on?’

She wouldn’t look at him. ‘I don’t like showing people my body. I’m not comfortable with it. Never have been. I get a bit...panicked.’

He frowned, baffled. ‘How long have you felt like that?’

She took a deep breath before she answered him. ‘Since my early teens. I’ve struggled with a kind of body dysmorphia and an eating disorder since then. Bulimia.’ She screwed up her face in disgust. ‘But I haven’t let it...you know...get hold of me since my late teens.’

Memories from the last couple of days connected together in his brain like jigsaw pieces. So that explained the baggy, unflattering clothes and her apparent discomfort when eating in front of him.

He leant back in the seat and rubbed a hand over his face. ‘I’m surprised.’

‘Why?’

‘Because you seem so
together
.’

‘It’s all a front,’ she said quietly.

‘Takes one to know one,’ he murmured to himself.

She didn’t seem to have heard him, trapped miles away in her own thoughts.

They reached the villa a minute later and he parked back under the awning and shut off the engine.

He turned to look at her and waited until she looked back at him. ‘Well, if it’s any consolation, you’re easily the most intriguing woman I’ve met in a long time.’

She snorted, then screwed her eyes shut in embarrassment.

‘Mostly because you’re smart and funny and passionate,’ he said, ‘but I wouldn’t kick you out of bed either.’

She seemed to swallow hard. ‘What?’ Her voice was raspy and appeared to barely make it out of her throat. She stared at him hard, as if she was trying to root out a lie using only the power of her cynicism.

He looked back at her, unblinking. She wouldn’t win this one. Mainly because he was telling the truth.

Jess broke eye contact first and he gave himself a mental high five, feeling inordinately pleased with himself, until she turned her head and stared out of the window instead of acknowledging his proposition.