He knew he’d sounded harsher than he’d meant to, and instantly regretted it as he watched her head droop, those eyes not intent on him now, but on the long-fingered hands that lay clasped in her lap.
He held his breath, expecting the retaliation of total non-compliance or, at best, the silent withdrawal that had tainted the last year of their marriage. Though he, too, had been guilty in that respect, he recognised now.
‘Sounds like sense to me, too.’ Bella did her best to sound like the rational adult he’d suggested she try to be. The spiky lump in her throat was her own fault. Stupid of her to have thought, at first, that he was trying to tell her that they should use this time to try to resurrect their marriage, work on their shattered relationship, talk things out.
But his harshly impatient suggestion that they forget the past, just for a day or so, had knocked that fantasy on the head.
He wanted to forget that they’d ever meant anything to each other. She had no option but to play it his way, and she knew that if she were to survive the next few days without making a shameful fool of herself she would have to convince her stupid heart that their separation was the first step in rectifying a bad mistake. Perhaps even steel herself to mention divorce.
She got to her feet, and challenged him. ‘I won’t glower, if you won’t. And, to make it easier, shall we dress the tree? There’s one in the kitchen, in case you hadn’t noticed.’
‘I could hardly have failed, since I almost poked my eye out on the darned thing a couple of times.’
She hadn’t left out a single thing when she’d made her minute arrangements for the ‘surprise’ reunion! Jake stamped on the thought. No past, no recriminations, simply a polite coexistence—on the surface, anyway. He was working on it. He had to. It had been his idea, hadn’t it? He’d do anything to make the next few days as amicable as they could be. Polite formality was definitely the only safe atmosphere to aim for.
He would do anything to avoid any attempts on her part to affect a reconciliation. That had to be why she’d set this up. And she had enough witchery at her command to make him follow his heart, ignore the sullied past and resume their marriage.
He would fight to the last breath to avoid putting himself through that kind of hell again.
‘I’ll carry it through; you decide where you think it would look best.’
In the end they both agreed the tree would look perfect in the alcove at the side of the inglenook.
‘Out of the way of any flying sparks,’ Jake approved. ‘Shall you hang the bits and bobs, or shall I?’
‘Why don’t we do it together?’ Immediately the question was out she regretted it. It sounded pushy. Togetherness was something that had been
missing from their relationship for a long time now. No chance of finding it again either. He didn’t want to find it so they wouldn’t. What Jake wanted, Jake got.
‘One of us has to fix lunch,’ he told her, smoothly glossing over her mistake. ‘Breakfast, for me, was a non-event, and yours—two bites of toast just now—doesn’t count. I’ll forage in the kitchen while you deck the tree.’
It wasn’t cowardice, he told himself grimly as he jerked the fridge door open and glared at the brimming contents. He needed to keep things cool, polite—if only superficially. It was the only way he could get through this without his emotions ending up in chaos.
He pulled a slab of cold roasted beef from the well-stocked shelves and began to slice at it for sandwiches. He had nothing to fear, he reminded himself. Not a damn thing. He had the protection of her past infidelities, hadn’t he? Not to mention the reinforcement of her latest devious behaviour—the setting up of this farce.
Jake eyed the mound of meat he’d hacked with grim hostility. The slices were distinctly uneven, ragged, as if someone had set about the cold roast with an axe. And he wondered why he had to keep reminding himself of the reasons for keeping her at arm’s length.
After what she’d done to him, to their marriage, he would have thought his heart would have grown a protective shell a mile thick, the reasons for keeping her at a firm distance permanently engraved on his brain.
He shouldn’t have to work on it.
It shouldn’t have to be so hard!
If he allowed her back into his life he would deserve all he got. Heartbreak. Forever wondering if she was sneaking off to be with Maclaine whenever his back was turned. He couldn’t face the pain of that again.
CHAPTER SEVEN
AT FIRST Bella had been all fumbling thumbs and deep and nervy embarrassment at having left herself wide open to that rebuff. Play the game—for a game it surely was—as if they were mere acquaintances, politely resigned to spending time together; that was the way Jake wanted it. So that was the way he’d get it, she’d told herself firmly. She would demonstrate that she could play the game as well as he. Better, even!
But soon the glittering festive baubles had entranced her: gold, silver and scarlet, glimmering and twinkling amongst the dark evergreen branches, swags of shiny red beads roping in and out of the pine-fragrant foliage. It all made her forget, for a few precious minutes, the hurting hatefulness of her situation.
She was standing back, her head tipped to one side, wondering if the effect she’d achieved looked as good as she thought it did, when Jake walked back in from the kitchen, carrying a loaded tray.
‘How does it look? OK?’ She didn’t turn after that initial over-the-shoulder glance. Still caught up in almost child-like excitement, she took Jake’s long moment of intense silence for consideration of her artistic efforts. The result had to be a bit odd or he wouldn’t be taking so long to offer an opinion. ‘Did I put too much on? Is it over the top? I’ve never dressed a tree before.’
Jake put the tray down on the table, his mouth curving cynically. For a few moments back there she’d had him entranced. Standing there, a great and glittering gold star clutched in her hands, her lovely face radiating pleasure, there’d been no sign of the sleek ‘top model’ sophistication he’d always associated with Bella. The breathy, whispery excitement in her voice had almost fooled him, too.
He clattered plates. ‘Never dressed a tree? Pull the other one! Then come and eat.’