Page 55 of An Unholy Affair
‘You don’t need to,’ he murmured. ‘Just listen and feel.’
Holding his gaze, Eveline let herself slip into a world where there were just the two of them, getting closer and closer until they merged into one. She wasn’t aware of the music, nor the other couples swaying next to them. All she felt was the fire of Jack’s touch and her own deep longing to join her body with his.
How would it feel to kiss him?As if reading her mind, his eyes flicked to her mouth. She sucked in a breath, then ran the tip of her tongue across her lips. His own were parted, his breath coming quicker, as his hands tensed around her waist.
There was a desperate ache of desire between her legs, an urge to feel his body pressed hard against hers. The flecks of gold in his irises seemed to shine even brighter, as his gaze grew darker and more heated.Please… Please…
A loud throat-clearing made her jump. Eveline turned to see Gladys staring at them with gimlet eyes, her face pinched as though she’d been sucking a lemon dipped in battery acid.
A jolt of guilt and hurt shot through her, followed by a quick appraisal of her actions since arriving at Foxbrooke Haven.Hadshe been inappropriate with Jack?
She glanced at him. For a nanosecond, she could see the tension in his jaw. Then it relaxed, and he smiled. He raised an eyebrow and a nervous thrill ran through her. Before she could ask what he was thinking, he whirled her into the centre of the room. Holding her tightly, he dipped her, his lips so close to hers that his face became blurry.
Then, before she could take a breath, she was righted, and Jack stepped back, giving another bow as people clapped and cheered.
Eveline acknowledged everyone with a brief nod, then dashed to Erica, her cheeks on fire.
‘So, shall I leave Jack to sort out the mural?’
Erica grinned and leaned closer. ‘I don’t think the mural is the only thing he’s going to be sorting out between now and Christmas…’
12
Eveline wound her scarf around Jack’s neck as they left Foxbrooke Haven. The soft fabric caressed his skin, and he imagined her fingers doing the same. Despite how many times he lectured himself to stay away from her, his body overruled his mind. Now, his fingers twitched, desperate to bridge the gap between them and take her hand.
When was the last time he’d held a woman’s hand in public? Ten years ago?Fuck. Was it really that long? Since then, sex had been contractual, and neither his clients, nor him, wanted to be seen touching each other intimately in public. Behind closed doors, however, it was a different matter…
But now, breathing in Eveline’s scent from the scarf, he wanted to hold her hand. To discover everything about her, then kiss her until he forgot who he was and what his life had become.
‘Tell me about your family,’ he began. ‘Where were you brought up? Do you have any siblings?’
She hesitated. ‘I was born in Shropshire. My father, Peter, is in the motor trade and lives in Kent. My mother, Diana, lives in Germany with her second husband, Hugh, who’s in the army. I have two half-sisters. Eleanor is twenty and studying medicine in Munich. Abigail is twenty-two and studying to be a lawyer in The Hague.’
Eveline’s words were stilted, as if this was a script she was used to presenting. Jack tried to fit this new information into his picture of her. He didn’t know how old she was, but it must have been a disruption to have a stepfather and two younger siblings arrive when you were old enough to remember it.
‘I’m thirty-five,’ she said, as if her age was a distasteful piece of information she needed to divulge before he enquired.
Five years older than me. A woman’s age didn’t bother him. All his clients were older than him, and most by at least two decades.
‘Did you grow up in the UK or Germany?’
‘Mainly in the UK. I was eleven when Hugh married my mum and it was easier for me to go to boarding school. The holidays were split between them in Germany, my father in Kent, and one set of grandparents in Shropshire.’
Despite Eveline’s smile, her tone was becoming increasingly brittle. Jack’s own childhood had been awful, but at least he had the continuity of people and place. He tried to imagine how hard it must have been being shunted from pillar to post like a parcel that nobody really wanted. Maybe he was wrong? Maybe shehadbeen happy?
‘Do you see them much? Your parents and sisters?’
Another pause. Another smile that looked stapled into place.
‘Not that often, unfortunately. We all have very busy lives.’
Jack wanted to ask so much more. To unpick the façade and see inside Eveline’s heart. For her to share her truth, no matter how hard it was. He wanted to hold her, comfort her, protect her, lov—. He jammed his hands deeper into his pockets.Stop it.
‘Have you had a chance to look for old photos of your father?’ she asked, seemingly as keen to change the subject as he was.
His stomach cramped, twisting into the form that defined his childhood. The funeral was on Sunday.
‘Not yet.’
