‘You like it when I’m inside you,’ he commented hoarsely.
She’d never felt anything so good in her life.
‘James,’ she panted desperately. ‘I’m going to scream.’
He slammed his mouth over hers, muffling the high, keening noise as she came. And in return, she thirstily swallowed his uncontrolled, animal growls.
* * *
James was late to breakfast. He’d peeled himself away from Caitlin’s side early in the morning and gone for a long run. Now they were all there at the table—Caitlin as well, looking like butter wouldn’t melt. He couldn’t help but give her a quick grin. But then he glanced at the food laid out on the table. His post-run warmth chilled instantly. He picked up one of the small, golden breads and glanced at the other pastries. He knew them so well. Could even taste them already.
‘These are Aimee’s?’ he forced himself to ask, hoping his voice didn’t sound as husky to everyone else as it did to him.
The conversation stopped. Even Jack tore his gaze from his phone.
‘Yes,’ his mother answered quietly.
‘How is she?’ James carefully put down the brioche.
‘She’s well. The bakery is doing brilliantly. Your father picked these up from there first thing. She’s away at the moment though—Malibu.’
So he wouldn’t have to see her—face her this trip. But that didn’t change anything. And he didn’t want this conversation. He didn’t take a seat. ‘I just need to go and—’
He didn’t bother trying to think of a reason. He was out of the room already. He’d be able to breathe again in a bit.
* * *
Caitlin sat at the table, unsure of what to do or say.
‘I knew that was a bad way to go about it.’ James’ mother sighed and left the room through another door—his father following closely.
Caitlin chewed on her one bit of brioche for a really long time. Go about what? Who was Aimee? Why had the mention of her name sent James into such an obvious lockdown—and spiked the tension in the family? Jack was back staring at his phone, only George was apparently still in ‘good host’ role—giving her a quick smile and offering her the plate of pastries and starting up a conversation on a completely unrelated topic. He was so damn determinedly cheerful and polite and easy-going that Caitlin knew it was all defence. She’d get nothing out of George. He was loyal.
‘I’m going for a run.’ George finally wrapped up his chat effort five minutes later. ‘Why don’t you check out the pool?’
‘That sounds a great idea. Thanks.’ She smiled at him gratefully.
She walked out onto the deck, thinking she’d check the pool temperature before committing herself. She paused. James was in there, furiously pulling through length after length after length as if he had Jaws on his tail. She walked over to dip in a toe, then bent to sit on the edge, letting her feet dangle in the cool water.
She knew he’d seen her. But he did another three lengths before coming over. Caitlin reached into her pocket and pulled out the small block she had in there. ‘You want some?’ She waved it in front of him.
‘My chocolate?’ He wiped the streaming water from his face. ‘Give.’
Caitlin shook her head and tried not to ogle his gleaming body. ‘Mine. I always keep some on me. It’s a great travel tip I learned from this guy once.’
He grinned appreciatively and opened his mouth for her to put the piece in, keeping his wet hands away.
‘You haven’t had breakfast,’ she said. ‘And you’ve almost done like a triathlon or something this morning.’
He said nothing, just opened his mouth for another piece. She fed an extra large chunk to him.
‘You can’t relax here?’ she asked. How the hell could he not relax?
‘I like to stay fit.’ He chomped and swallowed.
That wasn’t all it was and she wasn’t afraid to ask. Much. ‘So who’s Aimee?’ She tried to ask as nonchalantly as possible. ‘An ex-girlfriend or something?’
‘What?’ He looked utterly startled. ‘No.’ He shook his head, a slight grin appearing for an even slighter second. ‘She was our housekeeper for years.’
‘Oh.’ Caitlin frowned. She was so missing something huge. Why would James get so awkward at the mention of their old housekeeper?
He stood waist deep in the water, watching her. A low, reluctant chuckle left his lips. ‘I can see you clamping down on all those questions.’
She shrugged, making light of it. ‘You don’t want to talk? I’m not going to make you.’
He reached out and took the last of the chocolate from her fingers. He devoured the last bit in a gulp; she could see the small sustenance having an effect already. His smile was almost back. ‘Thanks,’ he said.
Thanks for the chocolate, or for not pushing him? She guessed both.
Of course now her curiosity burned brighter still.
* * *
James spent most of the morning deflecting conversation by engaging both Jack and George in another tennis round. Caitlin hadn’t asked more about Aimee or what the connection was with him and his family, but it felt as if she’d withdrawn. She hardly looked at him. Logically he knew it was because she was too busy smiling and charming his family, not because she was bothered about him shutting her out. But even so, prickles pushed under his skin.
He whacked the ball hard and aced Jack. Was he shutting her out? He knew he was shutting his family out. He always had over this. There was nothing anyone could say to make it better or ease his guilt. Not even Aimee could say anything. And she’d tried to in the past—told him it wasn’t his fault. That accidents happened. That people made their own choices. None of that made him feel any better. But he damn well refused to dwell and mope and stew. He stayed busy for very good reasons.
He didn’t have to tell Caitlin. Didn’t have to tell anyone. He’d acknowledged his actions, accepted the ramifications. The responsibility. And he’d moved forward with his life—on a far better course than he’d been before. He couldn’t change the past, couldn’t forget it, but it was better to make a difference and move forward.
But ironically, Caitlin not asking made him want to tell her. He wanted her to understand. He knew that she, of all people, wouldn’t tell, certainly wouldn’t judge. His lips twisted. Because she already knew he wasn’t perfect, right? From the moment she’d met him, she’d had his number.
He was a fake.
‘Come walk along the beach with me,’ James said to Caitlin. It wasn’t really an invitation, more a command. Because suddenly, it seemed vital that she did know it all. Why he’d suddenly morphed into a hyperactive sports freak. Why he couldn’t sit still. Why he struggled to say anything particularly personal to his parents. Why he needed his life to stay the way it was.
She didn’t hesitate. Didn’t even answer. She just stood and followed him.
‘Aimee was our housekeeper. She was married to Pete, our odd-jobs man,’ he said roughly, as soon as they were out of earshot of the house. He didn’t look at her as he spoke, but he felt her eyes on him.