It Was Only a Kiss

Luke placed a soft but determined kiss on her open mouth before lifting his head. ‘Probably not, but we sure are something. Get some sleep, sweetheart.’

NINE

Jess managed to shower, get dressed and stagger downstairs. Her family were due to arrive in a few hours and she had to sort out the manor house. She wanted to air the rooms, put flowers in them, and she needed to go to town to stock up on food and drink. And morphine, and other Class A, B and C drugs, because her hands and knees throbbed continually and every step she took radiated pain into her cut.

Jess walked into the kitchen, walked around Luke, who was stacking dishes into the dishwasher, and headed for the coffee machine. He’d been wonderful last night—tender, protective, sweet. And when he’d climbed into his bed next to her he’d been careful of her all night. She remembered him forcing more painkillers down her some time during the early hours of the morning, a warm hand patting her hip when she briefly surfaced to protest against the pain.

Hearing her approach Luke turned away from the fridge and sent her a smile. ‘I was just going to bring you some coffee.’

Jess pushed her hair off her face. ‘Thank you for cleaning me up last night.’

‘No problem.’ Luke handed her a cup of coffee. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Like I had a close encounter with a road.’

‘That good, huh?’ Luke jerked out a chair and sat down at the kitchen table. He poured cereal into a bowl and added milk. He gestured to the box with his spoon. ‘Help yourself. You’re probably starving.’

Jess took the seat opposite him. She dashed muesli into her bowl. ‘Not so much. But I need to eat so that I can take some more painkillers.’

‘No more drugs until we get you to the doctor. You have an appointment in forty-five minutes.’

Jess waited for the familiar spurt of anger she always experienced when men told her what to do. It didn’t come and she cocked her head. Strange. Maybe she was accepting his bossiness because he’d been so utterly wonderful last night.

Jess rubbed her forehead. ‘Do you really think it’s necessary?’

‘Yes. If you don’t get stitches it’ll take that much longer to heal and it will scar horribly. Your legs are gorgeous, Blondie, let’s try to keep them that way.’

Jess wrinkled her nose. ‘It’s just that my family are arriving later and I have so much to do.’

‘Like what?’

‘Shopping for food and wine—’

‘Friends of mine own the deli on Main Street. You can phone an order in, they’ll get it ready, and we’ll pick it up after you see the doc. As for wine... Funny, I thought we had a cellar on the premises.’

‘I can’t expect you to fund my family’s wine habit!’ Jess protested.

‘Knock the cost of the wine off my bill,’ Luke suggested, and leaned back in his chair. ‘Next?’

‘I wanted to air the rooms in the manor, check that all the beds have linen on them, put flowers on the nightstands.’

Luke lifted his hips, pulled his mobile from his pocket, pushed buttons and held the mobile to his ear. After a quick conversation he disconnected and dropped the mobile onto the table.

‘Who was that?’ Jess asked.

‘Greta. She used to be housekeeper at the manor. Her granddaughter Angel cleans for me to earn some spending money...she’s at uni. Anyway, Greta’s retired, but she’ll grab Angel and get her to do what needs to be done next door. Next?’

Jess pushed her bowl away and reached for an apple. ‘Want to come and work for me? I could use someone with your problem-solving abilities...’

Luke draped his arm over the back of his chair and sent her a long, slow, sexy smile. ‘Why don’t you come and work for me? I could use someone with your marketing skills on a permanent basis. Although we’d have to work on your independent, I-can-do-it, perfectionistic don’t-help-me attitude.’

Jess rested her chin on her fist. ‘Am I that bad?’

‘Not bad. Just challenging.’

‘Well, that was kind. My ex—exes—were a lot less complimentary.’ Frustration crossed Jess’s face. ‘I was often told that I was too controlling and overbearing.’

‘They sound like a bunch of—’

Jess saw Luke swallow down his rude epithet and look for a better word.

‘Morons.’

‘Initially they loved the fact that I was independent, then they hated it. They told me that they were into successful women, but moaned at the amount of time I needed to spend on my business. They loved me paying for stuff, but then told me that I flaunted my money in their faces.’