Keeping the Peace (38 page)

Pippa gave a weepy chuckle.

‘There, that’s more like it,’ Jack said, tilting her chin up with his finger.

As her eyes cleared, Pippa became more aware of Jack’s proximity, the intensity of his gaze. She forgot how to breathe as she watched him. Her eyes flickered involuntarily to his parted lips, making her wonder what they would feel like to touch.

Slowly, tenderly, his fingers traced the curve of her jaw, the roughness of his fingertips rasping against her skin. The hold he had on her arm with his other hand intensified and Pippa stepped forward to keep her balance. Her senses reeled as his cologne filled her sinuses, the heat of his masculinity pulsing out of his every pore. She heard his shallow breathing match her own as he stroked her hair, his touch trembling.

Pippa swallowed hard, temptation pulling her towards him like a vacuum. Jack tilted his head slightly, in an almost curious gesture as his eyes travelled over her face, her eyes, her hair, her throat. He licked his lips, the pink tip of his tongue making Pippa’s mouth water.

‘Hello! Anyone in?’

A voice calling from Reception sent them both staggering backwards, as if they’d been rebuffed by a force-field. Pippa blinked and took a deep breath, trying to get her bearings back. She stared at Jack. If the terror on his face looked anything like her own, he must be feeling the same hurricane of emotions rampaging through his body.

‘Hello?’

‘Yes!’ Pippa called out. ‘Just a moment.’ She tore her eyes away from Jack and fled back to the safety of Reception. Aspen Valley’s head lad was leaning over the desk, looking at the two Aaron Janssen horses’ portraits, which Pippa had brought in earlier with her.

‘Can I help?’ she asked, hoping nothing on her face would betray what had just happened.

‘Yeah, can you tell Jack the racing at Ffos Las has been called off this afternoon? Track’s waterlogged.’

Pippa nodded.

‘Of course. Thanks.’

The lad gave her a curious frown, but didn’t add anything. He nodded once and turned to leave.

Pippa sat down on her chair with a bump and blew a wisp of her hair out of her eyes. She tucked the curl behind her ear, but paused, cupping her jawline where Jack’s fingers had travelled. What the hell
had
just happened?

‘Pippa?’

She jumped like a startled rabbit at the sound of Jack’s voice. He stood in the doorway to his office. She searched his face for a clue as to what he might say next.

‘Yes?’ she squeaked.

He lifted a notebook in his hand and walked towards the desk.

‘Entries for next week. What did I hear about Ffos Las?’

Pippa didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed that he was pretrending nothing had happened at all.

‘Racing’s been called off. The course is waterlogged apparently.’

‘Damn,’ Jack tutted. ‘I thought that might happen.’

He stood with his hands on his hips, his fingers tapping against his belt. He looked around him, distracted, until his gaze alighted on Pippa’s paintings.

‘Those Aaron Janssen’s?’

‘Yes,’ she nodded. ‘He asked if I could drop them round his house in Bristol this afternoon, if I can find the place.’

‘I’ve been there a couple of times. Do you know where the Suspension Bridge is?’

Pippa shook her head.

‘Okay, do you know where The Green is?’

‘No,’ she replied, looking apologetic. ‘But I was going to look it up on Google maps. I just hate navigating. I usually get lost no matter how easy it is to find.’

Jack looked at her, somewhat cautious.

‘I could take you. I mean, I know where it is and I’ve got a free afternoon ahead of me now.’

Ah
, the voice in Pippa’s head resolved, so he hasn’t blocked it out completely. Did she really want be in such close proximity to him again so soon though? As spacious as Land Rovers were, they weren’t designed for the space Pippa felt was needed between her and her boss.

‘You don’t have to. I’m sure I’d find it eventually.’

‘No, really. It’ll give me something to do and I’d get a chance to congratulate Janssen on Skylark’s second place.’

Pippa felt reassured by the lack of awkwardness in his tone. Maybe a journey into Bristol sitting beside him wouldn’t be so excruciating after all. Plus, she could do without the trauma of navigating through the city.

‘Well, only if you’re sure.’

Jack nodded.

‘Sorted then. I’ve obviously got horses to see to now, but I’ll catch you at lunchtime.’

‘Okay. Thanks, Jack,’ Pippa said with a grateful smile.

He responded with a brisk nod.

‘See you later.’

Balancing the two canvases in her arms, Pippa followed Jack up the stone steps to the front door of Aaron Janssen’s three-storey Victorian townhouse. Jack’s knock was answered by a housekeeper, who led them through into a high ceilinged drawing room, where the lavishly decorated panelled walls and cornices provided an almost uncomfortable contrast to the huge plasma television and modern leather lounge suite, long enough to home an entire baseball team.

The fashion mogul was reclining in a chair, an idling cigar wedged between two plump fingers. His face lit up when their arrival was announced and he greeted Pippa and Jack like long-lost friends. Like a child at Christmas he urged her to reveal his horses’ pictures.

‘But darling, they’re stunning!’ he exclaimed, clasping his hands together and knocking ash onto the carpet. ‘Oh, you are clever to catch such a likeness. Isn’t she fantastic, Jack?’

‘Very good,’ Jack agreed obediently.

‘Thank you,’ Pippa said, a blush warming her cheeks. ‘And thank you for commissioning –’ Her rehearsed speech faded as a figure appeared through a doorway at the far side of the room. Surprise stalled her voice and she darted a look towards Jack.

He looked just as taken aback.

‘Melissa?’ he uttered.

For a moment the young woman hesitated, but regained her composure quickly.

‘Jack,’ she smiled. ‘And
Pippa
. What a surprise.’

‘What are you doing here?’ Jack asked.

Pippa noticed the almost imperceptible nervous tension in her twisting fingers. Melissa opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by Aaron.

‘Just an informal business meeting before I leave for Dubai Fashion Week.’

Melissa smiled in agreement and strode across the room towards them, lithe and feline.

‘And what are
you
doing here?’ she said.

‘I – er – Pippa needed to drop these pictures off and racing was cancelled so I – er – I knew where Aaron lived...’ His excuse sounded forced, provoking compassion from Pippa and a glare from Melissa.

Aaron clapped his hands.

‘Well, isn’t this nice. Everyone knows each other already.’

‘Yes. Pippa is Jack’s
secretary
,’ Melissa said, giving them both a challenging look.

‘Really? Where did you find the time to do these then, darling?’ he asked Pippa. ‘Oh, I do love the colour of this one! The copper in his coat set against that vivid blue blackground. What do you think, Melissa?’

Melissa glanced briefly at the picture.

‘Hmm, they’re good. A bit contrived maybe.’

‘Melissa!’ Jack admonished.

‘What? I’m sure Pippa appreciates an honest opinion. Don’t you?’ She smiled at Pippa, her red lips cutting a sheer path across her face.

Pippa gave her her best waitress smile. She did appreciate honesty, but somehow Melissa didn’t seem to fall into that category in her book.

‘Of course,’ she replied.

‘Well, I think they’re wonderful!’ Aaron gushed. ‘And since I’m paying for them, that’s the main thing you need to worry about. In fact, if you don’t mind, I’d like you to do some more for me.’

Pippa’s smile blossomed into a genuine grin.

‘Really?’

‘I want a room dedicated to the horses here with their pictures on the wall and their trophies in the cabinets,’ he said, his hands gesticulating as he described the scene. ‘Winners’ rugs draped like curtains, like a – like a...’

‘Like a shrine?’ Pippa said hesitantly.

‘Yes! That’s the word. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?’

‘Um, I guess so,’ she replied, catching a glimpse of Jack rolling his eyes.

‘Now, do you two need to rush off anywhere? I’m particularly glad you brought Jack along, Pippa,’ said Aaron with a mischievous smile, ‘because look what I received in the post yesterday!’ He skipped over to a writing desk and flapped a DVD at them. ‘It’s the charity single we did! Have you received yours yet?’

Jack frowned.

‘Yeah, it arrived a couple of days ago.’

Aaron’s eyes twinkled with excitement.

‘Ooh, have you watched it? I’m a teensy bit nervous about which clips they showed of me. I was getting the words wrong half the time.’

Jack shifted uncomfortably.

‘No, I haven’t seen it yet. Haven’t had the time really with the Festival and – and things.’

‘Nonsense! It’s only four or five minutes long,’ he said, batting the DVD case in Jack’s direction.

‘I’d like to see it,’ Pippa heard herself say.

Aaron beamed at her.

‘And so would I, darling. Come take a seat, you two. Melissa, be a doll and close the curtains?’

For a millisecond, Melissa looked anything but doll-like then nodded demurely. Aaron fiddled with the DVD player and stereo-system built into the wall then came to join Pippa and Jack on the long couch.

Pippa couldn’t stop her grin of amusement as the recording began. The camera swung over the assembly of racing personalities in the huge recording studio.

She glanced at Jack, sitting beside her, looking less than impressed. An unseen voice led them through the first verse before the entire cast joined in the chorus. Jack was the first person they zoomed in on, looking stiff and self-conscious, sporting a pair of earphones. Interspersed with shots of the singers, replays of the previous year’s Cheltenham Festival lit up the screen, showing predominantly Virtuoso’s Gold Cup win. The image of Jack, with an ear-splitting grin that Colgate would have killed to sponsor, congratulating Rhys Bradford was replaced with Jack in the recording studio, seeming to have relaxed by the second chorus and joining in with more enthusiasm.

Pippa grinned at him, seeing the embarrassed smile on his face.

‘They plied us with alcohol for most of it,’ he murmured in her ear. ‘We’re nothing more than a bunch of drunken karaoke singers by this point.’

She giggled.

By the images chosen of the last Festival, of Virtuoso annihilating his rivals, Black Russian being embraced by an hysterical Emmie, crowds cheering, urging on their favourites, newspapers being flung in the air as winner after winner crossed the line, the magic and historicism of Cheltenham finally hit home for Pippa.

By the smile on his face, she could tell Jack was reliving last year’s successes.

‘I understand now,’ she whispered back.

Warmth filled his eyes and he nodded.

‘Good.’

A feeling of discomfort overshadowed her enjoyment of the DVD and she glanced up to find Melissa looking at her. No frown creased her brow, no sneer disturbed her lipstick. But her eyes burned into Pippa’s in an icy stare crystallising her grey eyes.

P
ippa wobbled down the step ladder and massaged her lower back. She grimaced as the moody pain voiced its disapproval of her painting the spare room walls at something past midnight. She’d only intended to do the one, maybe two walls that evening, but as she’d hauled all the old mismatched furniture and her easel onto the landing, she’s realised what a mission it would be to put everything back and then go through the whole process again.

She gave the blotchy marigold walls a dubious look then shrugged. It would need a second coat anyway. Squeezing past the buckled mattress and other bedroom items, she plodded down the stairs. An appreciative smile warmed her face. The novelty of the new golden varnished oak boards still hadn’t worn off.

Her mobile phone, lying in its usual spot on the windowsill gave a plaintive beep as she wandered into the kitchen.

Pippa frowned at the message on the screen: two missed calls from ten minutes ago. She glanced at the clock on the wall. What was Tash doing ringing her at this hour? Maybe she was out on the booze and hadn’t realised the time, she decided, hefting herself up onto the draining board and redialling. It was Saturday night after all.

‘Hey, sweets. I hope I didn’t wake you,’ Tash answered, her voice raised above a busy background.

Pippa grinned. It was Saturday night all right.

‘No, I was upstairs painting the spare room. Everything okay?’

‘Well, I don’t want to worry you or anything, but –’ Tash hesitated, and the concern in her voice immediately made Pippa’s worry meter shoot up to critical. ‘But I’m at a party – well, a
function
more like it. I’ve been to wakes more festive than this. Anyway, the thing is your friend Finn is here.’

‘Finn?’ Pippa said in surprise. ‘What’s he doing in London?’

‘I don’t know, but he’s not exactly selling himself.’

Pippa frowned.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Uh, he’s a little bit
drunk
. And he’s not creating a very good impression. He’s cornered my CEO right now and is moaning about how he’s a bad person. He’s not making much sense.’

‘Oh, God. Poor Finn.’ Her heart contorted in pity. ‘He fell off in the Gold Cup. He must still be upset about that, poor soul.’

‘That’s it? He fell off in a race?’ Tash’s tone was disparaging. ‘By the looks of it, I’d have said someone had died.’

‘The Gold Cup is rather special to racing. Jack gave him a bit of a bollocking afterwards too.’

‘I guess each to their own. But what I called you for, sweets, is do you do you want me to do anything? I mean, he’s making a bit of a spectacle of himself.’

‘Is he that drunk?’

‘Pip, he’s about as legless as a day-old tadpole. Shit, he’s trying to hug my boss’ wife now.’

‘Bloody hell. Um, yes, I think you’d better do something, if that’s okay,’ she fretted. ‘We don’t want Finn getting into any more trouble.’