His Best Mistake Read online

  “A kick to the balls would do,” muttered Stella, too busy wondering what she was going to do with this new information regarding Jack to care much.

  “I’ll deliver it personally.”

  *

  Once Cora had gone, Stella sat in front of the fire, with her back to the sofa and her knees pulled to her chest, her head spinning and her heart turning over. She couldn’t stop thinking about Jack and what he must have suffered.

  How had he got through it? To have lost his wife and unborn child in such a tragic way must have been unbearable. She couldn’t begin to imagine the grief. And now, even if the passage of time had alleviated the devastation somewhat, he was going to have to relive the memory of it every single day.

  OK, so it wasn’t exactly the same. She and Jack weren’t married. They weren’t in love. But still. There was a baby, his baby, and now she could totally see why he was so keen to have her close. Everything about the way he’d behaved since she’d delivered her news – his initial reaction, that meeting at Paddington Station and in particular, his insistence on keeping her close by any means possible – now made perfect sense.

  So would it really be such a big deal if she allowed him to keep an eye on her? It would be for a relatively short time, and the obstacles she’d presented him with at the station were hardly insurmountable. She could easily work in London. Or maybe she could even do something about the coffee table book of her work that she’d always wanted to compile. In fact, the change of scenery might even turn out to be inspiring. Whenever she currently had time off there always seemed something in the house that needed to be done. A rattling window to fix. A leaky tap. Pictures that needed to be hung. There’d be none of that if she moved in with Jack.

  His apartment sounded as though it had more than enough room for the two of them, and they did have to get to know one another at least to some degree if they were going to do this. She ought to find out what sort of man the father of her child was, especially since they were going to be bound together for a while. Quite possibly for the rest of their lives, in fact…

  The enormity of the commitment she was considering hit Stella squarely in the chest, then, with the force of a freight train, and for a moment she couldn’t breathe. Her head swam and her stomach churned and panic suddenly surged inside her. How on earth was she going to manage it? She’d never committed to anyone before. Whenever she’d tried it, she’d failed. Now she was considering not only committing – sort of – to Jack but also to a baby. For whom she would have responsibility for ever. This was huge. The stakes were sky high and ocean deep. She wouldn’t be able to fail this time, yet how could she not?

  Come to think of it, what had ever made her think she would make a suitable parent in the first place? Her own very dysfunctional parents were hardly good role models and heaven knew she was riddled with issues. Children needed emotionally open and stable people around them and she was neither. She must have been nuts to even consider it, therefore. In fact, she was nuts. She couldn’t do this, any of it, she really couldn’t, and oh God…

  Closing her eyes, Stella took a deep breath and let it out as slowly as she possibly could and then did it again, until her heart stopped racing and the panic subsided.

  No, she told herself, struggling for calm. She could do this and she would make it work. She would be a good mother. As good as she could be, at any rate. She’d just have to work it out and get on with it. And clearly Jack was a complicated individual, who might on occasion require careful handling, but she’d simply have to learn to accommodate that, just as he’d have to learn to accommodate her many, many flaws.

  At least the attraction she seemed to still feel for him presented no danger. She’d be more than able to keep that under control. She might have had hot, sweaty sex with him a handful of hours after meeting him but that had been a strange weekend, which had come at the end of a very weird month. The circumstances had been unique. She didn’t need to worry about a repeat. She had no intention of sleeping with him again. The thought of sex made her want to throw up anyway, and she seriously doubted Jack would want to sleep with her either. She was covered in spots, her hair was lank and she carried around with her a whiff of eau de vomit. She wasn’t exactly an attractive proposition. And after the baby was born? Well, then there’d be other things to think about.

  Besides, she’d learned her lesson. Sex would lead to emotion and emotions could lead her headlong into love and she was done with that. She was sick of the hurt and the heartbreak, the shattered hope and the crushing disappointment when yet another relationship crashed and burned. It had become too hard to pick herself up and dust herself off.

  Romance sucked and she couldn’t afford to get caught up in it. Not now when there was a baby to think of. A cool head and a practical nature were what was needed here, and if ever there was a time to put all that therapy she’d had at eighteen into practice, now was it.

  She could do it. She could open up, try to explore her feelings a bit more and communicate better. She wouldn’t withdraw when she came up against something she couldn’t handle. She would be rational and sensible and learn some skills from Jack since it was obvious that, the current situation aside, he and his sister were enviably close.

  Taking a deep breath and praying she wasn’t making a massive mistake Stella reached for her phone and dialled his number.

  “Jack?” she said when he answered. “It’s Stella. Look, I’m not going to marry you or anything, but if we’re going to do this together then we should probably get to know each other a bit better. So if you still want me to move in with you for a month or two, just until I’m out of the first trimester or whatever, then that would be OK.”

  “When?”

  “Saturday?”

  “I’ll see you then.”

  Chapter Eight

  Jack threw the ingredients for a stir-fry – including a bucketload of ginger – into a wok. The relief at having Stella finally under his roof was overwhelming. She and two suitcases had arrived late afternoon a couple of hours ago in the taxi he’d sent for her and she was now here and safe, and all that mattered was keeping her that way.

  The scorching attraction he still seemed to feel for her was irritating and inconvenient, but he’d just have to deal with that because how he felt about her physically was irrelevant. Sex was what had got them into this complicated mess in the first place and indulging in it again would hardly make things simpler. Resisting her allure might require every drop of self-control he possessed but he’d faced tougher challenges. If he constantly reminded himself of the reason she was here, he should be all right.

  “Something smells good.”

  At the sound of her voice, Jack glanced behind him, and something inside him shifted at the sight of her. She’d changed. Had a shower, by the look of her wet hair and make-up-free face. She was wearing a blue tracksuit made of some kind of soft-looking velvety fabric that would have made him want to reach out and stroke her if he hadn’t shored up his defences to protect them both against that sort of thing.

  “Sorry about the outfit,” she said, reddening slightly although he had no idea why when she looked so gorgeous. “It’s all that’s comfortable at the moment. I need to go shopping.”

  Before he had time to stop it, his gaze dipped to the swell of her breasts tight against her top, the memory of how they’d felt in his hands and against his mouth slamming into his head, and he had to turn back to the stir-fry before it became embarrassingly obvious how much she affected him.

  “Are you all settled in?” he said, possibly stabbing away at the vegetables a fraction more brutally than they deserved.

  “Yes, thank you,” she said. “It’s a very comfortable room. You have an incredible apartment.”

  “It’s convenient for the office.”

  “How long have you lived here?”

  “A couple of years.” Three and a half, to be precise. At first he couldn’t bear to leave the house he’d shared with Mia,
but eventually the memories had proved too much and he’d had to sell up before he drowned in them.

  “Can I use the gym stuff?”

  He shot her a look and bit back the absolutely no way that was hovering on the top of his tongue. “Should you?”

  “The doctor said mild exercise was absolutely fine.”

  “Then be my guest.”

  “Thank you.”

  “There’s a pool in the basement.”

  “Lucky I brought my costume.”

  “So how are you feeling?” he said, resolutely not thinking about how Stella might look in a bikini.

  “Fine.”

  “Sickness? Twinges? Anything?”

  “Nothing at the moment, but the minute that changes, Jack, I’ll let you know. I promise. Is there anything I can do to help?”

  She could put her feet up for the next seven months. That would help. So too would a diary of how she was feeling every minute of every day. But since that kind of smothering involvement would no doubt have her on the first train back to Somerset, and since she was obviously referring to the supper and not his issues with her pregnancy, he decided to keep those particular opinions to himself.

  “Nope,” he said, transferring the contents of the pan to a dish. “It’s ready.”

  “Let me set the table at least,” she said, taking the plates and cutlery to the table and distributing them, while he grabbed a couple of glasses and joined her.

  They sat down, and as she tucked in, it occurred to him that Stella was the first non-family member he’d shared a meal with since the death of his wife, which oddly enough wasn’t as disconcerting as he had the feeling it should be.

  “This is delicious,” she said, flashing him a sudden dazzling smile. “If this is a sign of things to come, then I’m glad I changed my mind about moving in.”

  Jack blinked away the dazzle and cleared his throat. “Why did you?”

  “I had a visit from your sister.”

  “Cora came to see you?” he said, his eyebrows shooting up. That couldn’t have been pleasant. “When?”

  “Tuesday morning. Just before I rang you.”

  The morning after the night Cora had been to see him and had learned about Stella. Clearly not unrelated incidents.

  Stella tilted her head and looked at him thoughtfully, and before he could ask what his sister had wanted, said, “Did you know she’s gone to Spain?”

  “Yes.” Despite what she’d said a second before walking out, Cora hadn’t been in touch and he couldn’t blame her. But he did worry about her. Luckily Lucas, who was with her in Andalucia, had updated him, and while the trouble his sister appeared to have got herself in was yet another thing that kept him awake at night he trusted Lucas – who was by all accounts the best in the business – to handle it and keep Cora safe.

  “She’s found Brad,” said Stella, putting down her fork and reaching for her glass of water.

  “So I understand.”

  “How did she find me?”

  “There’s a report.”

  “What does it say?”

  “You can read it if you like.”

  “No need,” she said. “I imagine the gist of it is something along lines of ‘rather average’ and ‘nothing special’.”

  Jack stared at her for a moment in shock, because what the hell? Where would Stella have got that idea from? She was far from rather average and nothing special. Well, not that far, of course, but still. “What on earth are you talking about?”

  “According to your sister,” she said, “that was how you once described me.”

  Had he? When? He racked his brains and the pieces slotted into place. Ah. Yes. He had done that. During that horrendously awkward conversation he and Cora had had on his return from Scotland when his sister had asked him what Stella was like and he’d had to bite back the truth.

  “Aren’t you even going to bother denying it?” she asked with a frown.

  “Nope.”

  “Oh.” She sat back, a flicker of hurt crossing her face, which was intriguing. Or not.

  “I did describe you like that.”

  “I see.”

  No, she didn’t. “However, I lied.”

  Stella stared at him across the table. “What?”

  “I lied.”

  “Why?”

  “Extolling your virtues to my sister at that particular moment didn’t seem the wisest course of action.”

  “No. I can understand that. But –” She paused. Frowned. Then said, “I have virtues?”

  Jack nodded. “You do indeed. And there’s nothing average about you in the slightest.”

  “There isn’t?”

  “You’re confident, flexible.” Very flexible from what he could recall… “Willing to take responsibility for your actions and unafraid to call others to account. It’s a pretty unique combination.” And an attractive one, especially when wrapped up so beautifully.

  “Right. Well. Thanks. You’re loyal, protective and capable of not only realising you’re wrong but admitting it too. That’s another pretty unique combination.”

  Pushing his empty plate away, Jack shifted on his chair, suddenly more than a little uncomfortable about how personal the conversation had turned and how fast. “What is this?” he asked. “Competitive character analysis?”

  “Not at all,” said Stella with a minute shake of her head. “I just assumed we knew nothing about each other.”

  “Not nothing,” he corrected, briefly thinking that carnally he knew her very well indeed.

  Stella went red, averted her gaze, and it was strangely satisfying to discover that maybe she wasn’t as at ease as she seemed.

  “Well, not much,” she said, and was it his imagination or was her voice a little hoarse? “Although that can easily be remedied.”

  Jack started, his body automatically stiffening in response because, good Lord. Was she implying what he thought she was implying? No. Of course she wasn’t. Unfortunately. No. Fortunately. “What are you suggesting?” he asked, grappling to get his wayward thoughts as well as his body back under control.

  “We need to talk.”

  “We are.”

  “More,” she said. “Properly.”

  Right. OK. But was that strictly necessary? He didn’t think so. He didn’t much want to know about her, or want her to know much about him. With knowledge came intimacy. With intimacy came vulnerability, and with vulnerability came the potential for pain that could tear you apart and leave you facing a void. “Do we really?” he said in a tone designed to deter.

  Unfortunately not deterred in the slightest Stella levelled him a look. “We’re having a baby together, Jack. There are things we should find out about each other. Things to discuss. So yes, I think we do need to talk.”

  Dammit, he couldn’t argue with that, he thought, something inside him caving in the face of such inescapable logic. But it would be all right. As long as they stuck to the facts and kept feelings out of it, he could share. Whatever was in the public domain anyway. And he did want to keep an eye on her, didn’t he?

  “Fine,” he said crisply. “Tomorrow’s Sunday. We’ll do something together and you can tell me all about yourself.”

  *

  Confident? Hah.

  Jack had no idea, thought Stella the following morning in the taxi as they headed for the country’s biggest and best art supplies shop so that she could stock up on the items she’d forgotten to pack. She wasn’t confident. She’d just learned how to fake it. And when it came to the opposite sex she was a total disaster, although she planned to work on that.

  In fact, she’d already made a start by bringing up that the whole rather average and nothing special thing last night. Despite her best efforts to ignore it, it had been niggling away at her pretty much constantly. She had no idea why. It wasn’t the worst thing she’d ever been called. Her parents had, on occasion, come up with far worse. Nevertheless it had rankled.

  If she’d been acting true to form, s
he’d have had a stern word with herself, buried the niggle and got on with things. This time, however, she’d taken the bull by the horns and had confronted it head on, and she was glad she had because Jack had cleared it up in the most satisfactory sort of way. She didn’t think she’d ever had her virtues listed before. She hadn’t thought she had any. It had made her feel all warm and glowing inside to know that a man like Jack did think she had some. In fact the warm glow had lingered for quite a while and she wondered whether it was something to be wary of.

  At least the nausea had gone. This morning she’d woken up after one of the best night’s sleep she’d had in years to the smell of cooking bacon and for the first time in weeks she’d been ravenous. Thankfully Jack hadn’t commented on the strength of her appetite but had just continued the supply until she’d been stuffed. Then he’d asked her if there was anything in particular she wanted to do today and it had suddenly occurred to her she’d need some canvases for when everything went wrong.

  “So tell me about your work,” said Jack, his voice snapping her out of her thoughts and returning her to the taxi with a bump.

  “The courtroom drawings?” she asked, twisting round a little and suddenly finding him a bit too close.

  “Yes. I looked you up. You’re very good at what you do.”

  “Thank you,” she said, the warm glow flaring up inside her all over again. Reaching forward Stella lowered the window so that she could breathe again, and continued, “Well, generally, I go into the courtroom just after the trial’s started. We’re not allowed to do any drawings then and there so I have to commit everything to memory. I can take notes, though. Then, when there’s a recess or court is adjourned I go out and get it all down.”

  “You must have to work fast.”

  “Like lightning.”

  “What sort of trials do you cover?”

  “All kinds.”

  “It must be harrowing at times.”