It Was Only a Kiss

‘I wouldn’t mind a friend like that.’ Clem’s comment floated over the masculine laughter.

Her female relatives had their noses pressed up against the glass of the window and they were not looking at the mountains. Jess prayed that the long-limbed figure walking past the window was Owen, but she knew she wouldn’t be that lucky.

‘Oh, my—smoking hot,’ Kate said, her hand on her heart. She turned to Jess. ‘Is that Luke?’

Jess nodded glumly.

‘Nice ass,’ Clem commented and Nick frowned.

‘He’s got swag...he’s a real fly guy.’

Jess rolled her eyes. Her grandma had been watching MTV again.

But her mother was the absolute limit. Liza rapped on the glass and over her head Jess could see Luke turning, his eyebrows raised. Liza fumbled to open the window, and when she did introduced herself and practically browbeat Luke into coming for supper. Could she be more embarrassing?

Jess felt her face turning bright red and felt Nick’s not-so-gentle elbow in her ribs.

‘So, just a friend, huh? You sure about that?’

Jess heaved in some air and thought that it was going to be a very long weekend indeed.

* * *

He’d planned to keep his distance from Jess while her family were visiting, but that first evening he’d somehow found himself seated at the head of the two hundred-year-old dining table that had been brought out by one of the early Savage wives at the beginning of the nineteenth century. The Sherwood clan occupied the rest of the table...and, Lord, what a clan they were.

Loud, noisy, charming...loud, noisy. Well, all except for Nick, the oldest brother, who observed more than he partook in the conversation, a wry smile on his face. Of all of Jess’s brothers this was the one he liked most...possibly because he didn’t seem as if he was operating at warp speed.

He had to admit that Jess’s brothers had spectacular taste in women...from Nick’s fiancée, Clem—a stunning redhead and once-famous model, the ex-girlfriend of rocker Cai Clouston—to the other wives. Two brunettes and a blonde, they were all lookers. All educated and independent. One was an ex-teacher turned columnist, one a doctor and one a physiotherapist. The Sherwood brothers liked brains with their looks.

Just like he did.

Luke looked at Jess, deep in conversation with her father. Their brown eyes were identical. He’d have to be blind not to notice the speculative looks they’d sent his way, the not-so-subtle questions about their relationship. He’d ducked them all. He figured it was up to Jess to explain their relationship, and that she would be returning with him to his house tonight.

He just wished he could say, even if it was only to himself, that she would be sleeping in his bed with him again.

She was...beautiful, Luke thought, looking at her. Her hair was messy, her lipstick was long gone, and she had shadows under her eyes from pain—ten stitches, and she’d thought she didn’t need to see a doctor!—but she glowed.

She loved her family, loved being around them, he realised. He’d watched their arrival from his lounge window and had heard her squeal when she’d seen the convoy of cars turning into St Sylve. The cars had barely stopped before she’d wrenched doors open and children and toddlers had clamoured for kisses and hugs from her. He’d gritted his teeth when one brother had swung her around—stitches, dammit!—before passing her like a pretty parcel to the next brother, who’d repeated the process.

Luke shook his head. Jess had never, not for one moment, doubted that she was loved...

This was the type of family he’d have sold his soul for as a child and teenager. If he could have ordered it this was what it would have looked like. Siblings, laughter, teasing, loud conversation.

‘Quiet down, everyone...’

Luke turned his attention to Jess’s dad as the conversation died down. David Sherwood lifted his wine glass. ‘I’d like to thank Luke for opening up his house to our craziness, and fervently hope he doesn’t regret it.’ David narrowed his eyes and they bounced from one child to another. Jess, Luke noticed, wasn’t left out. ‘And that means no rough-housing amongst the furniture, no sliding down banisters, no flour bombs from the upstairs windows.’

Luke leaned towards Nick, who was sitting to his right. ‘He’s talking to the kids, right?’

Nick’s grey eyes laughed. ‘Unfortunately, no. My brothers and my sister can be quite wild on occasion.’

Luke grinned. ‘And you’re not?’

‘I just don’t get caught,’ Nick replied with a chuckle.

‘Anyway, thank you, Luke, for allowing us to be together this weekend.’ David lifted his glass and when the cheers died down continued to speak. ‘By the way, I knew your mother.’