It Was Only a Kiss

‘Not happening, Sherwood,’ Luke said in his most even tone—the one his friends recognised as deeply dangerous.

‘Luke—Sbu is costing me a bomb. He charges by the hour so I’m burning money here. Can we get on with it?’

Her snotty tone had his hackles lifting. ‘The cost of which will be passed to me, so don’t pull that on me! I’m calling it a day, Jess, leave it at that.’

Sparks flashed in Jess’s eyes. ‘What is wrong with you? I have a room full of actors and equipment and crew who are all waiting on you. Let’s just get it done.’

‘What is wrong with me? What is wrong with you?’ Luke’s voice lifted. ‘How could you do this to me, Jess? Is winning awards and making spectacular adverts more important to you than people’s feelings?’

‘What are you talking about?’ Jess demanded.

She genuinely didn’t know... Luke felt a knife embed itself in his chest. How could she, the woman he’d felt the closest emotional connection to ever, not realise how difficult this was for him? He walked past her and slammed the door closed.

‘Luke!’

‘This house! Playing happy families! It’s my worst freaking nightmare. Pretending that I had one is killing me!’ Luke roared. ‘This was my father’s office. Do you know how many times he took a belt to my backside in here?’

‘I thought—’

‘That corner where we were pretending to play chess? I caught him screwing my favourite au-pair there. She left the next day. I was seven and I thought that my world had come to an end.’

Jess covered her face with her hands. Luke stormed up to her and pulled them away. Tears brimmed in her eyes and they just made him angrier. He’d never told anybody this and he couldn’t stop.

‘The painting above the fireplace? Its frame is cracked at the corner. That’s because he threw a glass at me when I was fifteen. It bounced off my cheek, cracked it, then hit the frame and cracked that. Do you want me to go on?’

‘No! I’m sorry—I’m so sorry... I didn’t think.’

Luke stormed away from her. ‘I knew giving the contract to you was a mistake—I knew letting you back into my life was a mistake. I knew I was going to regret it.’

He heard Jess’s sob and felt that knife slice his heart apart. He turned and looked at her, and cursed when he saw that she was shaking like a leaf. He resisted the urge to pull her into his embrace, to comfort her with his touch, to stroke away those feelings of hurt, replace the loneliness and confusion with passion...

Was that what he wanted to do to her or was it what he wanted from her?

The only thing he was certain of was that shooting was done for the day. Luke placed his hands behind his head and lowered his voice. ‘Get rid of the crew, Jess, and leave me alone, okay?’

Jess nodded, turned and left. Luke, as he always had as a child, got out of his father’s study as quickly as he could.

* * *

She was a horrible, horrible person, Jess thought as she pounded down the dirt road away from St Sylve. How could she have got so caught up in her job, in the campaign, and not realised the impact it would have on Luke? He’d told her a little of his father, that he didn’t feel as if St Sylve was his home, but she’d been so bedazzled by the grandeur and beauty of the house and the furniture and the concept of St Sylve that she’d ignored and/or dismissed Luke’s feelings.

She remembered thinking when she’d put the storyboard together that if she got it right there would be another industry award in it for her. The setting was magical, the hero gorgeous, the story tugged at the heartstrings. At the very least it would sell a shedload of wine...

She was embarrassed, humiliated...disgusted with herself. Awards were not worth hurting Luke for. She was such a weasel.

Jess picked up her pace. She needed to run...run off this churning emotion, outrun her self-anger, the confusion, his words that were running on a never-ending loop in her head...

‘I knew letting you back into my life was a mistake...’

Jess ran blindly, not sure where she was going, barely aware that the light was fading, that black clouds were threatening a deluge and that she was in an unfamiliar part of St Sylve. The road was becoming more rocky but she pushed on, wanting the burn of her muscles, hoping for a rush of endorphins that would make her feel partly human and not a complete jerk. How could she fix this? She had to fix this... He was too important to her and she cared about him too much to brush this under the carpet.

She’d apologise, obviously, grovel if she needed to. She’d ask him if they could try to be friends again, make him realise that while she was occasionally thoughtless she wasn’t by nature cruel.