‘Belt is in the bathroom. Green shirt? In a pile...’ Luke grinned at her slight scowl. ‘I suppose your closets are military tidy? Everything organised by type?’
And colour. But Jess didn’t think she needed to tell him exactly how anal she was. ‘Get changed. T-shirt underneath. This on top. Sleeves shoved up your arms. Your normal boots.’
‘Yes, boss,’ Luke grumbled, reaching past her to pull the T-shirt from a pile she hadn’t looked in. Mostly because she’d thought it was full of rugby shirts.
God, this man needed a wife—if only to sort this mess out. Luke moved past her into the bathroom and Jess went back into his bedroom and walked over to a shelf where she could see a couple of photographs in silver frames. There was a photo of him and Kendall and Owen after a rugby match, looking much younger and splattered with mud. Another of two elderly people standing arm in arm in the doorway of the manor. Judging by their dress, Jess surmised that they were Luke’s grandparents. The man had Luke’s smile. The picture in the most ornate frame was very obviously of Luke’s mother, holding and gazing adoringly at, even more obviously, Luke as a toddler.
Jess picked up the frame and looked into the feminine version of Luke’s face. That was what his eyes would look like if he was happy, Jess realised. They’d dance in his face... His nose was longer than his mother’s, his mouth a little thinner. But those eyes, the shape of her face and that luxurious hair...that was all Luke.
Jess replaced the photo and noticed that Luke’s father wasn’t in any of the remaining frames. Hearing him behind her, Jess turned around and smiled. Yep, that was the look she wanted—relaxed, casual...happy in his old clothes because, hell, he was the Savage of St Sylve. He didn’t need to dress up and pretend to be something he wasn’t...
Jess smiled. ‘You’ll do.’
‘Good, because I’m not changing again.’ Luke tugged at the shirt. ‘I like this shirt. I’d forgotten about it.’
Jess thought about mentioning that if he cleared the cupboard out he’d be amazed at what he found. But it wasn’t her house, he wasn’t her boyfriend... She changed the subject. ‘Why don’t you have a photo of your father up with the rest of your family?’
‘Because, while he might have been my father, he wasn’t my family.’ Luke snapped the words off.
Whoa! And didn’t that tell her a whole lot about their father-son relationship?
‘Can we get going? I still have real work to do today,’ Luke said, gesturing to the door.
Jess nodded and walked out of the room. Her family might drive her utterly insane, but she couldn’t imagine not having them in her life. If Luke had lost his mother when he was three, and if his father hadn’t been much of a father, as his previous statement implied, then that meant Luke had grown up without any sort of parental support system...
Jess felt her heart clench. He might have grown up on this beautiful estate, in a house full of very old furniture, but it sounded as if he’d grown up alone. Nobody, she decided, should grow up like that.
FIVE
Luke watched from his lounge as Jess said goodbye to a strawberry blonde who had just deposited a massive art folder into the boot of her car. She hugged Jess before climbing into her car, and they spent another minute or two chatting before the car moved down the driveway. He saw Jess rub her arms as she turned around to head back to the manor house. Her blonde hair was tousled by the wind, and in her black jeans and short cream jacket she looked just as fresh as she had that morning—if he ignored the shadows under her eyes and the tension in her shoulders.
Luke saw her look at his front door, saw the indecision cross her face and caught the small shake of her head. She wouldn’t invade his privacy, wouldn’t step over the line between work and play by inviting herself in for a drink, a meal, a roll in the sack.
Luke half smiled. Please feel free to invade my privacy, he silently told Jess, especially if you have more in mind.
Jess walked over to the manor house. It was a lonely place, huge and oppressive, and he’d spent huge chunks of his life in it alone. On a cold winter’s night it could be gloomy, and he didn’t want Jess in the house on her own tonight.
Or maybe he didn’t want to be on his own tonight, Luke thought. After a crazy day being trailed by cameras he also wanted something normal. A hot meal, a glass of wine, some company.
Before he could talk himself out of inviting Jess over, Luke walked into the hall, grabbed his jacket off the newel post and shrugged it on, and opened the front door. He grimaced at the icy wind and wondered if Jess was warm enough at night. The manor house had no central heating—his father had spent money like a Russian oil billionaire but refused to spend money to warm the house. There was a down duvet on her bed and a heater in her room, and the study had a fireplace—God, he’d forgotten to get some wood to her—but if she wanted to sit in one of the many lounges she’d need a ski-suit.