A Man Without Mercy

Vivienne’s teeth clenched hard in her jaw at Jack’s possibly well-meaning but still wounding words. She’d loved Daryl and it would take her longer than one miserable month to get over his betrayal.

At the same time, she wasn’t about to crawl into a hole and let him destroy her entirely. Jack was right. She did still have her work.

‘Perhaps,’ she bit out. ‘All right, run your proposal by me and I’ll see what I think.’

Five minutes later, Vivienne had to admit that Jack had surprised her. And also intrigued her. The last thing she would have expected him to want her services for was to do a complete refurbishment of a holiday home he’d bought out in the bush. Well, not the bush exactly. Port Stephens was on the coast not that far north of Newcastle, which was the second biggest city in New South Wales and not too long a drive from Sydney—two and a half, maybe three hours.

Because of its location, Port Stephens had become a popular holiday and retirement area. Vivienne had never been there herself, but she’d seen a segment about the area on a travel programme not long ago. Whilst the beaches and bays did look spectacular, and the various townships dotted along the coast perfectly civilised, there was still a lot of rugged bush around. Not only that; from what Jack told her, the house he’d bought wasn’t a typical beach shack sitting just off the sand. It did have water views but it was set back in the hills, and was simply huge, with a décor that was a mad mixture of Mediterranean villa and a fifties Hollywood mansion.

All in all, Francesco’s Folly sounded fascinating, and would no doubt be a challenge to fix up. A distracting and consuming challenge which would take ages. Just what she needed right now.

‘I have to admit you’ve surprised me,’ she said.

Jack leant back in his chair. ‘But are you interested in doing the job?’

‘Absolutely,’ she said in a firm voice.

‘Now you’ve surprised me,’ Jack admitted. ‘I was sure you were going to say no.’

Vivienne shrugged. ‘I only said I was interested, Jack. I haven’t said a definite yes yet.’

‘Fair enough.’ Jack glanced at his watch then up into her face, his blue eyes no longer twinkling with humour. He was back to business. ‘Look, I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. Marion said you don’t have much food in this place so I suggest you get yourself dressed and we’ll go find a local restaurant. We can work out the details of the job over lunch. I can’t actually sign you up till contracts have been exchanged on the property, but that shouldn’t take long. I rang my solicitor last night and told him to hurry things through. Meanwhile, I’m sure the estate agent handling the sale will be only too happy to give us the keys so that you can look through the place. I’ll drive you up there tomorrow.’

‘Tomorrow!’ Vivienne exclaimed.

‘What’s wrong with tomorrow? Don’t tell me you have anything else you have to do, because we both know you haven’t.’

Vivienne suppressed a sigh. She supposed it was too much to ask Jack to act any differently than he usually did when he was on site, charging through each minute of the day like he was perpetually on a deadline. If the man did have a mistress, she could just imagine how his visits to her would go. He’d ring her in advance and tell her to get her gear off so that she could be ready to service him the second he walked in the door.

Once again, Vivienne was shocked that she found such a scenario perversely exciting. Shocked that her body thought so too, her belly and nipples tightening underneath her robe. Thank the Lord it was a thick fluffy robe which hid everything. But her cheeks still flushed slightly as a wave of heat raced involuntarily through her veins. Her teeth immediately clenched down hard in her jaw as she battled for control over her mind, and her uncharacteristically wayward flesh. Vivienne wasn’t used to being sexually excited by her thoughts. She’d always needed romance to turn her on. And a man she was in love with.

Her immediate somewhat panicky response was to tell Jack that she wasn’t hungry and he should go get himself something to eat then come back later. But then Vivienne decided she was being silly. Jack didn’t know her secret thoughts, or feelings. On top of that, she was hungry.

‘Well, go on,’ Jack ordered. ‘Go and get dressed.’

Vivienne rolled her eyes but still stood up and headed for her bedroom, hopeful that the irritation Jack’s bossy manner always evoked in her would douse the unexpected heat he’d been somehow generating. Not that it was him exactly who’d been turning her on: it had been her imaginings over his mistress, the one who probably didn’t even exist. Why she’d invented her, Vivienne had no idea. But she vowed to put her and what Jack did with her right out of her head.

But typically that was easier said than done. As she put on her underwear—white cotton bikini briefs and a white stretchy bra, which minimised rather than enhanced her double-D-cup breasts—Vivienne started wondering what kind of underwear mistresses wore. Something very sexy, no doubt. Nothing made of cotton, that was for sure. Or possibly nothing at all.

‘Oh God!’ Vivienne cried, and dropped her head into her hands.

CHAPTER FOUR

JACK ANSWERED FIVE missed calls, arranged for a man to come and look at Vivienne’s bathroom door tomorrow and booked them a table for a late lunch in the time it took Vivienne to make her reappearance, dressed in bone-coloured slacks, a white T-shirt and a black linen jacket. Her hair was still down and she was wearing only a minimum of make-up, especially around her eyes, which were bloodshot and red-rimmed.

‘You’ve been crying,’ he said stupidly before he could think better of it.

Vivienne shot him a droll look. ‘No kidding. It’s what women do when the man they love turns out to be a two-timing rat. I’m sorry, Jack, but if you want me to work for you in the coming weeks you’ll have to risk being on the end of a few crying jags.’

‘Fine,’ he said. ‘As long as you don’t expect me to do anything about them.’

She looked taken aback. ‘Like what?’

‘I have two sisters and a mother,’ he informed Vivienne. ‘If I didn’t hug them when they cried in front of me—which is depressingly often—I would be banned from their lives for ever.’

‘You have two sisters and a mother?’

Jack laughed at the astonished expression on her face. ‘What did you think—that I was a foundling, abandoned on a building site when I was a few days old?’

She smiled. She actually smiled. Not a common trait of Vivienne’s. She was one serious girl.

‘Not quite,’ she said. ‘But you don’t come across as a man in touch with his feminine side.’

‘Then you’d be wrong. Living with three women for a good chunk of my life meant I had no choice. Though it was more their feminine side I had to be in touch with rather than my own. I have to confess I’m not the kind of guy who cooks and cleans and sends soppy cards, but I do hugs very well.’

‘And you bring the right flowers, when required.’

Jack wasn’t sure if she was being sarcastic or witty.

‘Which I haven’t thanked you for,’ she went on with seeming sincerity. ‘Sorry, Jack. It’s not like me to be rude. Or ungrateful. I guess I’m not myself at the moment.’

‘Apology accepted. Now, shall we get out of here? Time’s marching on and I’ve booked us a table for lunch.’

She blinked. ‘You have? Where?’

‘Why don’t I just surprise you again?’

* * *

He certainly did surprise Vivienne again, in more ways than one. Not only by taking her to a very trendy seafood restaurant which overlooked nearby Balmoral Beach, but by the way he was treated there by the staff—like he was an extremely valued client who deserved the very best table and the very best service. Which he definitely got, with drinks brought and their orders taken in no time flat.

Clearly, Jack had been there more than once, which gave rise to the speculation that he might not be as much of a workaholic as she’d imagined him to be. Maybe he did have an active social life. And a proper girlfriend as opposed to a mistress. Not that she would ever ask such a personal question. Not directly.

But a certain amount of curiosity got the better of Vivienne in the end.

‘I gather you come here often?’ she said casually as she lifted her glass of mineral water to her lips. She’d declined his offer of wine. If she started drinking, she might become maudlin again.

‘Often enough,’ he replied noncommittally. ‘My mother lives on that hill over there. She loves seafood so I usually bring her here at least once a month. We also came here this year for Mother’s Day. The rest of the family came too. Given both my sisters are now married with children, we had to book a seriously large table.’

‘I see,’ Vivienne said, then decided, what the heck? She wanted to know more. ‘And you, Jack—why aren’t you married with children?’

It was a reasonable enough question and he didn’t seem to mind her asking, judging by his nondescript expression.

‘If I said I never had the time, or the energy, you probably wouldn’t believe me. But it’s true. My dad died when I was seventeen, leaving the family in terrible debt. I had to leave school and get to work straight away. I wasn’t happy, I can tell you; I’d made plans to go to uni to become an engineer. But that quickly went by the board. Still, I’m not complaining about that. I made good with what I did.’

‘You certainly did,’ Vivienne agreed. ‘Your company is not only successful, it’s one of the few construction companies in Sydney with a reputation for finishing projects on budget, on time and with good workmanship.’

Jack smiled at her. ‘You forgot to mention that I hire only the best in the business as well, which includes interior designers.’