Page 30 of Here Comes Trouble
He turned to smile at her. ‘Okay, we’re set.’
She nodded in agreement and joined him as he walked through the large patio doors, which opened onto the rear garden of the villa, and traversed the path that led down to the cove.
They walked in silence through the muted evening light, Xander cradling the picnic hamper close to his chest. The air was balmy and close with a threatening rainstorm, the atmosphere electric with the promise of a much-needed purge of humidity.
They picked their way over the warm sand of the cove to the far side, just back from the water, where they had a spectacular view of the opposite shore of the lake, which was beginning to glow and twinkle with colourful lights as the sky darkened.
‘I hope it doesn’t rain,’ Jess said, gazing at the ominous-looking clouds in the distance.
‘We’ll be fine for a while,’ Xander said, putting down the hamper and flapping open the thick rug, smoothing it flat before gesturing for Jess to sit down on it.
Once she’d made herself comfortable – yanking down hard on her skirt so it covered as much of her legs as possible – he dropped down next to her, so close she could feel the heat of him radiating towards her.
Pulling out cartons of cold meats, salad, olives and a wealth of other local delicacies, he laid them out carefully on the rug and handed her a plate.
‘Dig in,’ he said, motioning towards the feast in front of them.
While Jess picked out a few things for her plate he reached into the hamper and came out with a couple of oil-fired lamps and lit them with a long match. They cast a soft glow over the area where they sat.
If she hadn’t thought it ridiculous, she would have assumed he was deliberately setting up a romantic atmosphere. As it was, she was so nervous she could barely eat a thing. Xander didn’t remark on it though, he must have thought talking about food and eating was a no-go area after her confession the night before.
It was kind of him – thoughtful – and she felt a glow of affection towards him.
‘You know, you’re nothing like I expected you to be.’
He raised a questioning eyebrow. ‘No?’
‘The press make you out to be some badly behaved lout, but they’ve clearly got you pegged all wrong.’
He frowned in mock disgruntlement. ‘Don’t say that. I was rather enjoying living up to my bad boy reputation.’
She laughed. ‘What was it that made you so wild in your youth?’ she asked casually, holding her breath as she waited to see whether Xander trusted her enough yet to tell her something that personal about himself.
Those beautiful eyes of his seemed fathomless as he stared at her, his gaze raking her face for signs of… what? A set-up?
Her heart whammed against her chest like a malfunctioning metronome as she waited to see whether he’d answer her question. She needed some interesting backstory to make the piece shine, but somewhere in her brain a small voice told her she really wanted to know for herself. She wanted to think the best of him, because despite the arrogance – which she was beginning to suspect was actually a defence mechanism – she really liked him. And not just because he was so gorgeous, but because she sensed there was a whole lot more to him than he ever let anyone else see.
The optimistic side of him must have won because he leant in, his gaze capturing hers and said, ‘What do you think it was?’
A slow trickle of excitement percolated through her veins as she realised this could be it – he was letting her in. ‘Did you have a tough upbringing?’ she asked, desperately hoping she hadn’t read him all wrong.
He folded his arms across his broad chest, making the muscles in his shoulders and arms bunch beneath his T-shirt. He looked down at the flickering candle between them. ‘You could say that. My parents never intended having a child. I was an accident – which my father liked to remind me of every chance he got.’ He looked back at her and she was shocked to see insecurity in his expression – something she’d not encountered before. ‘My mum died giving birth to me.’
Xander’s voice had taken on a steely edge, which sent a shiver of horror through her. ‘I paid my way in that family by spending most of my childhood working at shitty, cash in hand jobs to keep myself fed and clothed – until my dad kicked me out when I was sixteen. He’d spend most of his time down the pub or the betting office, so I hardly saw him anyway.’ He leant back on the rug, anchoring his arms behind him and readjusting his body before looking at her. There was nothing on his face but a closed expression now, as if he’d drawn down the shutters.
‘Jeez, how awful.’ She could picture him as a child not being allowed to do the things that normal kids do – not being allowed to be a child – and it made her chest ache.
He shrugged. ‘It was tough at times. I got into a lot of trouble, for shoplifting and fighting and then for spraying my graffiti tags around the city and got myself a bad reputation. The teachers wrote me off after a few years of failing to straighten me out.’
She’d known children like that when she was at school. Loners. Lost souls. People who had difficulty fitting into what everyone else thought of as normal life because they’d never had the opportunity to experience it.
The atmosphere had dropped dark now, and she wanted to pull it back before the hard pressure behind her eyes became real tears for that young boy.
‘But look at you now.’ She managed to catch the wobble at the end of the sentence and turn it into a gentle clearing of her throat. ‘Everyone wants a piece of the great and talented Xander Heaton.’ She finished on a deeply concentrated frown as she battled to conceal her need to jump into his lap and hold him close.
‘And which piece are you after, Jess?’ he asked, giving her a seductive grin, the heavy atmosphere of the last couple of minutes evaporating into the air around them.
He was king of the suggestive comment, this guy.
