Second Chance Proposal: A Man Without Mercy / Bring It On / Rancher to the Rescue

‘Nope,’ he lied. No point in telling his mother about his personal problems. It would only upset her. ‘I was in the area for work and decided to pop in and see you.’

‘How nice. Come in, then. Would you like some coffee?’ she asked him as he followed her down to the kitchen.

‘I won’t say no,’ he replied.

The kitchen was super-tidy today, he noted. His mother had always been a fastidious housekeeper when they’d been growing up, but after his father had died you could always tell how depressed she was by the state of her kitchen. Clearly, if the shining sink and benchtops were anything to go by, his mother was far from depressed at the moment.

‘You going out somewhere?’ he asked as he sat down at the large wooden kitchen table.

His mother sent him a sheepish look from where she was standing by the kettle. ‘Actually, yes, I am. But not till five. Jim next door—you know Jim, don’t you?—has asked me out to dinner. We’re going to a restaurant way up at Palm Beach. There aren’t too many restaurants open on a Monday night, it seems.’

Jack could not hide his surprise that his mother would go out at all, let alone accept a date from a man.

‘Yes, yes, I know,’ she said. ‘It’s been a long time coming. But I finally got so sick of myself last week that I started talking to Jim over the fence when we were both outside gardening. We have spoken before, but only to say hello. Anyway, he was just so easy to talk to, and when he asked me over for a cup of tea I went. It was then that he asked me out to dinner and I said yes. I know he’s a good few years older than me, but he’s just so nice, and I thought, what have I got to lose by going out with him?’

‘Absolutely nothing, Mum. I think it’s great.’

‘Do you?’ she said as she brought his mug of black coffee over to the table. ‘Do you really?’ she repeated as she sat down opposite him.

‘Of course. Jim’s a decent man.’ Jack had got to know Jim over the years his mother had lived in this house. He was always out in the garden and happy to have a word or two.

‘I’m glad you approve. Because this isn’t the first date I’ve had with him. We’ve been going out to dinner every night for almost a week.’

‘Wow. No flies on Jim.’

When his mother blushed, the penny dropped.

‘Wow again, Mum,’ Jack said. ‘And good for you. Good for you both, actually.’

‘We don’t want to get married,’ his mother confided, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘We just want company.’

‘I haven’t seen you this happy in years,’ he said.

Her blue eyes sparkled.

His mother astonished him further by lifting her chin and looking him straight in the eye. ‘Now, I have to go put my make-up on, Jack. Stay and finish your coffee by all means but I would prefer it if you’re gone by the time Jim comes to pick me up. I don’t trust you not to say something embarrassing.’

‘Who, me!’ Jack exclaimed, doing his best to stop himself from smiling.

‘Yes, you. You can be extremely tactless at times.’

‘Who, me?’ Now he was grinning widely.

‘Oh for pity’s sake,’ she said, rolling her eyes at the same time. But she bent and kissed the top of his head. ‘You’re a good son and I love you dearly, but may I suggest you ring before you just pop in next time? I might have a visitor and I wouldn’t want to shock you.’

It wasn’t until Jack left the house ten minutes later that he stopped smiling and started thinking again. Not about his mother and Jim but about himself and Vivienne.

As he drove at a snail’s pace back towards the city and home—rush-hour traffic had more than arrived—his thoughts ran over the events of the day, right up until that last moment when he’d kissed Vivienne goodbye. That had been the moment when it had hit home to him—with considerable force—that if he took Vivienne up to Francesco’s Folly tomorrow there was a very real danger of his doing something which would spoil their working relationship for ever.

Jack didn’t want that to happen. He valued Vivienne as a business colleague and respected her as a woman. But there was no denying that she’d stirred a lust in him today that was almost beyond reason. He’d imagined he’d got it under control back in the restaurant, but then he’d kissed her and all hell had broken loose.

‘Worse than hell,’ he muttered aloud, recalling how the second his lips had brushed over hers he’d been instantly besieged by the most violent urge to sweep her into his arms and kiss her properly. His struggle not to succumb to the temptation had almost exhausted his will power, so much so that he doubted he would be able to resist a second time.

Of course, he would not be stupid enough to kiss her a second time. That was a given. But it was still likely that he’d be plagued by ongoing thoughts about doing a lot more than just kissing her. Which would result in his getting turned on again.

Jack didn’t want to spend tomorrow with a hard-on. So he guessed it was off to a club tonight, and sex with a virtual stranger.

Such a scenario would have excited him once upon a time. But no longer, it seemed. What Jack really wanted was to have great sex with a woman he knew and liked. A woman with gorgeous green eyes, long auburn hair and breasts to die for.

Jack banged his hands on the steering wheel, swearing in frustration.

His frustration grew all the way across the Harbour Bridge, reaching a furious peak by the time he let himself into his apartment. There, he stripped off all his clothes and jumped into a steaming hot shower. After a few minutes, he turned the tap abruptly to cold and stood there under the icy shards of water till his body was numb. Not so his brain, however. Nothing was going to rid his mind of the annoying reality that he wanted Vivienne as he had not wanted a woman in his entire life.

For a man who was used to achieving his goals, it exasperated Jack that he could not have what he wanted. If only he wasn’t a modern man, he thought irritably, constrained by the rules of civilisation and society. Cave men had had it so much easier. If a cave man had seen a female he fancied, he’d just banged her on the head with a club then dragged her back to his cave, where he’d ravaged her silly, after which she’d become his woman.

Jack had to laugh at what would happen to him if he did that to Vivienne. He certainly wouldn’t have to wait for the power of the law to punish him. She’d up and kill him the first chance she got. God, what he would not give to have her in his bed, not just once—once was not going to be nearly enough!—but on a regular basis.

By the time he’d exited the shower and wrapped a towel around himself, Jack had come to two decisions. One, he wasn’t going to go pick up some stranger tonight. To hell with that idea! Two, he didn’t care how long it took, or what he’d have to do to make it happen—one day, Vivienne Swan was going to be become his lover!

CHAPTER SEVEN

‘THAT DIDN’T TAKE long, did it?’ Jack said as he popped on his sunglasses then started up the powerful engine of his Porsche. ‘I told you the door man would be on time.’

Vivienne gave him a cool smile in return before putting on her own sunglasses. After sleeping for fourteen hours straight, she’d woken at six this morning with a clear head and a determination to take control of her life once more—which included not falling apart over Daryl’s lies, and not entertaining any further wanton thoughts about Jack Stone.

It was a still a relief, however, when he arrived and she was able to open the door to him without instantly wondering if he’d spent last night with his mistress, or whether other parts of his body were as big as his fingers. Yes, she did still find him more attractive than she had in the past. He looked extremely good in those tight blue jeans, white T-shirt and a navy zip-up jacket. But her thoughts didn’t turn lustful, even when he bent over to show the door man the broken hinges.

Vivienne was also able to fold herself down into the low passenger seat of his sexy black sports car without worrying that being alone with him would prove too much for her. She felt rested and relaxed and almost back to her normal self. Thank heavens!

‘I’ll remember to call you the next time something goes wrong in my place and I need a tradie,’ she said. ‘You seem to have all the right contacts.’

‘Call me any time you like,’ he replied.

Vivienne frowned at the uncharacteristic warmth in his voice. She supposed he was just being nice so that she’d do the job he wanted her to do, the same way he’d been nice to her yesterday. But she seriously wished he’d go back to being as brusque and matter-of-fact as he usually was. That way, there’d be no chance of a repeat of what had happened to her yesterday.

‘Do you mind if I ask you something personal?’ he said.

Vivienne’s frown deepened. ‘How personal?’

‘It’s about Daryl.’

‘What about Daryl?’

‘I only met him the once. Last year at your Christmas party. I’ve been puzzling over what was it about the man to make you fall in love with him?’

It startled Vivienne, that phrase Jack used about Daryl making her fall in love with him. For that was what she had thought herself: that somehow Daryl had made her fall in love with him.

‘It sounds like you didn’t like him much,’ she said.

‘You could say that.’

‘But why? You only spoke to us that night for a few minutes.’

Jack shrugged. ‘It doesn’t take me long to form opinions of people.’

‘In that case, what was your opinion?’

‘He was a slick-talking, superficial charmer whom I wouldn’t trust an inch.’

‘Goodness! You really didn’t like him, did you?’

‘No, but obviously you did.’

‘Well, yes...yes of course I did. I loved him.’

Jack liked the way she said that in the past tense. He liked also that his questions were making her think about the rotter she’d been planning to marry. He needed Vivienne to get over him fast. To move on with her life. Because that was his only chance of success with her in the near future.

Jack was not a patient man at the best of times. Seeing Vivienne again this morning had done little to dampen his desire for her, despite her wearing a rather androgynous black pants suit and having put her hair back up. He knew now what she looked like with her hair down, and what her breasts were like underneath that crisp, white schoolgirl blouse.

‘But why, Vivienne?’ he persisted. ‘What was there to love about him? Surely it wasn’t just because he was handsome?’

‘No,’ Vivienne denied, though Daryl was handsome. Very handsome. ‘It was more the way he treated me.’

‘You mean he said all the things you wanted to hear. Conmen are very good at lying, Vivienne. And giving compliments.’

‘True,’ Vivienne agreed. Daryl had paid her never-ending compliments. Looking back, she could see that they had been over the top. She wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous. Or that good a cook. And facing the evidence of her ex-fiancé’s character was beginning to make her angry again. Though the anger this time was more directed at herself than him. How could she have been so stupid as to be taken in by that creep? What kind of idiot was she? It was some comfort that she hadn’t finalised any arrangements for their wedding— as though deep down she’d known the wedding would never take place.

‘Would you mind if we stopped talking about Daryl?’ she said a bit sharply.

‘Sorry,’ Jack said. ‘Do you want me to shut up altogether? It’s just that it’s a rather long drive. It could get a bit boring if we just sit here in silence. I could turn on the radio if you prefer, or put on some music. I have a flash stick with heaps of songs on it.’

‘What kind of songs?’ Vivienne asked, vowing to forget all about Daryl. He wasn’t worth thinking about, anyway.

For a minute there, Jack had thought he’d made a big mistake, bringing up the subject of Vivienne’s ex. She’d become very uptight with his questions. Clearly, she was still in love with the bastard. Or thought she was. It irked Jack that dear old Daryl had probably been great in bed. Men like that usually were. But what the heck? He wasn’t too bad in the sack himself.

Jack felt confident that, if and when he managed to seduce Vivienne, she’d be happy enough in the morning. Not that he wanted actually to seduce Vivienne. Seduction suggested sneaky methods, such as excessive flattery, which had obviously been one of Daryl’s tactics for getting a girl into bed. Jack had never learnt the art of flattery. He called a spade a spade. If he told a girl she was beautiful, it was because she was beautiful. Jack hated liars and manipulators, hated empty chit-chat as well. He was a doer, not a talker.

Or he usually was. It had come as a genuine surprise to him that he’d talked to Vivienne more yesterday than he’d ever talked to any woman. He’d even told her about his family background, and the problems he’d had with his mother. Which was a thought...

Jack decided not to bother with music for now and to stick to chit-chat.

‘You’ll never guess what my mother’s gone and done,’ he said.

Vivienne seemed momentarily taken aback by his sudden change of subject, her head whipping round to look at him.

‘Er...no, I couldn’t possibly guess. What?’

‘She’s having an affair with her next-door neighbour.’

‘Heavens! I hope she’s not best friends with his wife. That’s not very nice.’

‘No no, Jim’s not married. Recently widowed.’

‘Then it’s not really an affair, is it? I mean, an affair suggests something illicit. Or secret.’

‘True. Call it a fling, then. She’s having a fling. They’re not in love, or anything like that.’

‘How do you know?’

‘She said so. They’re just good friends. And you know what? I’ve never seen her happier. Or more confident. I was somewhat shocked at first but, once I thought about it, I realised it was the best thing to happen to her in years.’

‘So when did you find all this out?’ Vivienne asked.

‘Yesterday afternoon. I dropped in to see her after I left you.’

Jack was pleased when she smiled at him.

‘You love her a lot, don’t you? And worry about her a lot.’

‘Mothers who live on their own can be a worry, especially ones who are on the emotionally fragile side.’

‘Yes. Yes, that’s so true.’

Jack detected a touch of irony in Vivienne’s remark. Maybe her mother was a widow as well. Or divorced. But then he recalled Marion saying something about Vivienne inheriting some money recently. That usually meant a death in the family. But who? He would have to tread carefully. He didn’t want her getting upset.

‘You sound like you’ve had some personal experience with emotionally fragile mothers,’ he said.

‘Yes. Yes, I have, actually. Dad divorced Mum when she was still quite young and she never got over it. She died a couple of years ago. Heart attack,’ Vivienne added, hoping it would stop Jack asking further questions about her mother’s death. If she told him the truth it would be like opening Pandora’s box, which she preferred to keep solidly closed.

‘That’s sad, Vivienne. And your father?’

‘Oh, I haven’t seen him since he walked out on Mum when I was about six. He went overseas and never came back.’

Jack’s sidewards glance showed true shock. ‘What kind of man would do something like that?’

Vivienne knew that there were excuses for her father’s behaviour but to explain them would be delving into that Pandora’s box again.

She shrugged. ‘To give him credit, he did leave us well provided for. He gave Mum everything they’d accumulated during their ten-year marriage: the house. The furniture. Two cars. And he paid child support for me till I was eighteen.’

‘And so he should have!’ Jack said, clearly outraged. ‘He should also have kept in touch. Been a proper father to you. I presume it was just you, Vivienne? Sounds like you don’t have any other brothers or sisters.’

‘No. There was just me,’ she said, her chest tightening with the effort of staying calm in the face of memories which were better kept buried.

Jack shook his head. ‘It never ceases to amaze me how some men can just walk away and turn their backs on their families, especially their children. Why have children if you’re not going to love and care for them? Bloody hell, did you see that?’ he growled, thumping the steering wheel at the same time. ‘That stupid idiot in that four-wheel drive almost took my front off.’

Vivienne was extremely grateful that that stupid idiot in the four-wheel drive had interrupted what was becoming an increasingly awkward conversation, giving her the opportunity to deflect Jack’s attention onto other less painful subjects.

‘So how long do you think it will take us to get to Port Stephens?’ she asked.

‘Mmm. Let’s see... It’s going on eight and we’re about to turn onto the motorway. It took me two and half hours last Sunday from here, but I didn’t stop anywhere.’

‘You don’t have to stop anywhere for me,’ Vivienne said. ‘I’ll be fine. I had a big bowl of porridge for breakfast which usually keeps me going till lunchtime.’

Jack’s eyebrows lifted. ‘Fancy that. I had porridge too. And you’re right. It does stick to your ribs. But I think we might still have a coffee break at Raymond Terrace.’

‘I’m not sure where that is. I haven’t been up this way before.’

‘Really?’

‘To tell the truth, I haven’t done much travelling of any kind. Never even been out of Australia.’ Or Sydney, for that matter, she didn’t add. No point in courting more awkward questions.

‘I haven’t travelled all that much, either,’ Jack replied. ‘If and when I do take a break, it’s to places that it doesn’t take long to fly to, like Bali or Vanuatu and Fiji. You know me—busy, busy, busy.’

‘Maybe it’s time you slowed down a bit.’

‘I couldn’t agree with you more. That’s one of the reasons I bought Francesco’s Folly.’

‘Francesco’s Folly,’ Vivienne repeated thoughtfully. ‘Do you know why it was called that?’

‘The estate agent said Francesco was the name of the Italian who built the place back in the late seventies. The folly part will be self-explanatory once you see the place. I gather our Italian had a large family, most of whom he outlived. He finally passed away a couple of months ago at the age of ninety-five. His two great-grandsons inherited the place but they both live in Queensland and wanted it sold, pronto. Which is where I came in.’

‘I can’t wait to see it,’ Vivienne said.

‘And I can’t wait to show it to you,’ Jack replied.

CHAPTER EIGHT

IT TOOK THEM longer than anticipated to reach Port Stephens, stopping for over half an hour on the Pacific Highway just north of Newcastle. Jack answered several missed business calls and Vivienne had a nice long chat with Marion, who was pleased to hear that her friend was feeling better and planning to get back to work, though not necessarily with Classic Design.

After leaving Raymond Terrace, it took them a good forty minutes to drive to Nelson’s Bay—the main seaside town in Port Stephens—where they picked up the keys from the agency handling the property, then made their way to Francesco’s Folly, which was near an area called Soldier’s Point. Despite having enjoyed the drive and the scenery, by the time Jack turned his Porsche into the driveway of their destination, Vivienne was keen to see the house.

And what a house it was! Only two storeyed, but it looked like a mansion perched up on top of a hill. Mediterranean in style, it was cement-rendered in a salmon-pink colour and had more archways and columns than Vivienne had seen outside of a convent or a museum.

‘Heavens to Betsy!’ Vivienne exclaimed as Jack drove up the long, extremely steep driveway.

Jack grinned over at her. ‘It’s pretty spectacular, isn’t it?’

‘Not quite a traditional Aussie holiday house, I have to admit. A mad mixture of Tuscan villa and Greek palace. What’s it like inside?’

‘Extremely dated. Trust me when I say you’ll have your work cut out for you to transform it into something I could live with on a permanent basis. But the views, Vivienne. The views are to die for.’

‘But Jack, it’s enormous!’ she said as they drew closer and she began to appreciate the true proportions of the place. ‘Are you sure you want to buy a place this size? I mean...it would be different if you were married with a big family, like Francesco was.’

Jack shrugged. ‘I have two married sisters with a total of five children between them. And a mother with a lover. They’ll use the place, too. Though, to be brutally honest, I’m not buying it for them. I’m buying it for myself.

‘I knew the moment I walked out onto one of those balconies up there that I wanted to live here,’ he said, pointing to the balconies, which spanned the full length of both floors. ‘Maybe not twenty-four-seven just yet, but at least at weekends and for holidays. Call me crazy if you like but that’s the way it is. Now, stop trying to talk me out of this, Vivienne,’ he said as they drove round to the back of the house. ‘It’s a done deal.’

The back of the house was where the garages were located, along with the main entrance to the house, guarded by two huge brass doors with equally huge brass locks. The tarred driveway also gave way to a gravel courtyard, the wheels of the Porsche making crunching noises as Jack brought his car to a halt in front of the multiple garages.

‘Leave that behind,’ Jack ordered when she picked up her bag. ‘I don’t want us being interrupted by phone calls. I’ll leave my phone behind as well.’

‘What about my camera?’ she asked. ‘I’d like to take photos.’

‘No photos first up. Just your eyes. Come on.’

She did as ordered, despite thinking to herself that if she agreed to do this job she would have to learn to bite her tongue a lot. Jack really was a control freak, in her humble opinion. She smiled a wry smile when he made her stand back while he unlocked the brass doors and pushed them wide open, after which he turned and stood, still barring her way.

‘Now, before you call me a liar,’ he said. ‘This first part of the house is not too bad.’

Vivienne almost laughed when she walked inside. ‘Not too bad’ was a serious understatement! The foyer alone was quite magnificent with a vaulted ceiling and an Italian-marble floor, an elegantly curved staircase on each side leading up to the first floor. Straight ahead was a wide columned archway, beyond which lay a huge indoor swimming pool, which seemingly stretched for ever, before running under another columned archway and ending out in the sunshine.

‘Wow,’ was all she could think of to say.

‘Yes. The pool is Hollywood wow,’ Jack agreed. ‘Not solar heated, however, something which I would want to have done. But that wouldn’t be your problem. Yours is the décor of the rooms, which are many and varied.

‘On each side of the pool there’s a self-contained three-bedroomed apartment,’ he explained as he took Vivienne’s hand and led her along the left side of the pool. ‘In recent years, Francesco used to let them out in the summer. But that was before he became ill. After that, he just lived upstairs, the downstairs apartments were left empty and the whole place became run down.’

‘It doesn’t look that run down,’ Vivienne said, trying to keep her focus on her surrounds and not on her hand in Jack’s. Lord, but she wished she could extract her hand without such a move being rude, but before she could do so his fingers tightened around hers. Her breath caught as a violently electric current raced up her arm and down through her entire body, tightening her nipples and belly on the way.

So much for her having this insane sexual attraction under control!

‘I gather the estate agent got in a team of cleaners before the place was opened for inspection,’ Jack said as he walked on, a totally rattled Vivienne in tow. ‘The great-grandsons took away what furniture they wanted, so all the rooms are half-empty, which perhaps didn’t serve the sellers well. It highlighted how neglected everything was and I was able to negotiate a bargain. But enough of that for now. Come and see the view.’