Engagement Rate (The Callaghan Green Series Book 1) Page 6

  I grinned, I was doing something right at least. "You still up for taking me to a restaurant where they have prissy food?"

  She put the glass down and slipped away from the table where Claire was leading a heated discussion on contraceptives. Not something I wanted to be part of as whatever I contributed will be wrong. "How about Padella? It might not be prissy enough for you?"

  "Padella's great if we can get a table." It was one of my favorite restaurants, an Italian with amazing pasta. I was half hoping we couldn't get a seat and we'd get takeout instead, then I could take her back to my place. But something told me a kiss would be as far as we'd get tonight; she was in a grey area, not sure where we stood given we'd be working together for the next couple of months. I should've been in that grey area too, but the arrogant bastard inside had determined I should have whatever I want.

  I rested my hand on the small of her back as we pushed our way through the crowd to the door. It was busy and loaded with people, the sun had brought everyone out for the evening and I didn't want to lose contact with her. It felt right; maybe I was staking my claim as she looked amazing and kept drawing the eyes of other men, but more than anything I needed to feel that warm skin under my fingers.

  Padella was busy, but a table became free as we entered, a rowing couple leaving before they'd ordered. The same buzz that was outside had continued in here; the atmosphere was thick with laughter and alcohol and food. Vanessa ordered a red wine and I stuck with beer, aware I was on Gran chauffeuring duty in the morning.

  "What are your plans once Richard's completely out of the way?" I said, wanting to know how she saw her future. I was trying to stay away from analyzing my own thoughts; I'd known her less than two days and could fill the back of a standard envelope with what I actually knew about her.

  "Relaunch the company, either through renaming it or setting it up from scratch. Richard knows that without me, there is no Cole Henderson. He doesn't know how to market and the people employed there now would follow me, as would current clients." She looked cautious. "I hope."

  "We'd stay with you," I said. "I know our internal marketing and PR needs reorganizing and we need to approach the media in a different way. If the rebrand is successful we could be looking at a longer contract." I had to put the firm first, even if it compromised what else I'd like to do with her.

  "You have untapped resources that would help boost your appeal," she was almost hesitant as she spoke, fingering the menu.

  "Like what?" I already knew what I was having. It was a small menu, all made fresh including the pasta.

  "You. And your siblings." She put the menu down. "It wouldn't hurt to have you in a few magazine articles – upmarket ones. A couple of the women's publications would be up for an interview with Claire and Payton. Given how photogenic you, Max and Seph are it would be a good way to widen your appeal without dumbing down what you do."

  I wasn't sure about this. Over the years there had been enough publicity about us personally without us courting it now.

  "They'll be interested in the retirement ball. Kirsty said she'd already been contacted by Hello for it to be featured." Our drinks arrived. Vanessa took a sip then licked around her lips. I stifled a groan.

  "Kirsty didn't agree, did she?" I didn't trust Kirsty. She'd interviewed extremely well and came with good references but there was something there which I couldn't identify.

  Vanessa shrugged and twirled her wine. I'd realized that she was rarely still, both physically and mentally. "She's not said. I have a feeling she's agreed to something or she's in the process of agreeing to something. I have a contact at Hello – I'll try to find out."

  I took a long drink of my beer. The conversation needed to move away from work and although there did need to be a discussion about coverage of the retirement ball and further media involvement it didn't need to be on a Friday night. "Let me know when you do." We gave our orders to the waiter; sourdough and olives to share as a starter, with fettuccine for both of us as mains. The food here was great. "Where do you see yourself living after your apartment's been sold?"

  "When Richard agrees to sell it," she said, smiling wryly. "He won't even entertain the idea of getting it valued. In fact, he tried to lock my clothes away so I couldn't move out."

  "What did you do?" I was struggling to not pay Richard a visit and break his nose.

  "I unscrewed the door's hinges of the room where he'd locked everything. He hated the thought of the scandal and he's worried about who runs the company if I'm not there. I think he's hoping I'll go back to him if he makes it that difficult for me to get away," she said without an ounce of weakness. "I'm not going back. I'm not a fool. But having to fight him is so much of a hassle."

  "What did your parents say? And Gran?"

  "It's just my dad. They don't know the full story, just that I've moved out and we're in the process of sorting everything. I don't want to worry them as they don't live close, obviously, and there's not much they can do," she looked up at me and smiled. "Tell me about your family. And not about what they do for a living – apart from Callum and Ava. I don't know about them."

  I chewed on an olive, wondering where to start. My family was unusually big, enough so that everyone found it fascinating. To me it was normal and I wasn't sure which bits people found most interesting. "Ava flips houses. She studied in New York, which is where her mum – our step-mum – is from and came back home to get into the property market over here. She's another one who inherited the workaholic gene. Callum's a vet currently working out in Africa somewhere on a reservation. He's coming back for dad's retirement; hopefully, they'll manage to be civil to each other for a few days."

  "They don't get along?"

  My knee brushed hers under the table. I didn't move it, in fact, I moved my leg closer, waiting to see if she retreated. "They never have. Callum was only two when our mum died and he didn't understand why she wasn't there. Dad tried his best, but he was struggling too so Callum was left to a nanny until Marie moved in but they never had the same sort of relationship as the rest of have. Plus, he didn't go into law or business. Working with animals was a big change for the family, although in some ways we work with them every day."

  She grinned. "I'd say that's true. There are a lot of people, especially within businesses who think they're automatically excused from being pillocks because they're rich." She paused, looking me in the eye and holding her gaze. "You're a good man, Jackson Callaghan." She tore a piece of sourdough in half, giving one piece to me.

  "And you know that after less than two days?" I raised my brows. She hadn't moved her legs; we were still joined underneath the table.

  Her smile covered her whole face, her eyes lighting up. "I had to research you and the company before agreeing to do the rebrand to check you were workable. It's amazing what you can dig up via Google. Besides, I'm not bad at working people out quickly; you have to in my field. Clearly, I got it wrong with Richard." I said a quick thanks to Marie for repeatedly telling us to behave in public and watch what we put on social media.

  "I'm sure the next guy you pick will be an improvement," I said, raising my brows, and trying to make her smile.

  The conversation meandered while we ate from work to families and friends and hobbies. She was a reader, we liked the same books and films, both liked cooking and she dreamed of a big kitchen and a home she could decorate to her tastes. Her fingers nudged mine occasionally as she reached for her wine glass and I found myself touching her arm, leaning in and inhaling her.

  I came back from the bathroom as she was checking her phone, laughing lightly. "Sorry," she said. "It's my gran checking on the arrangements tomorrow. Are you sure you're okay to pick her up?"

  "I've said I will."

  "I know, but I kind of coerced you into it."

  "Maybe I like you coercing me."

  She looked away, laughing. "You're an enigma, Jackson."

  She had me puzzled. I didn't think I was that hard to work out.
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  She laughed again, not explaining and stood up. "I'll get the bill. I don't want to be too tired tomorrow. My gran can be difficult to keep up with."

  I let her head to the counter, watching her ass sway in those tight leather pants and the exposed skin of her back.

  "Jackson!" she said, turning around viciously after speaking to the waiter. "I was paying for this!" She looked kind of cross but in an amused way. A couple of patrons were looking at us, smiling.

  I watched her some more, enjoying the emotion on her face and the flick of her hair, hair that I want to be wrapped around my hand as I sunk deep into her. I said nothing, waiting for her to come closer.

  As she approached I stood up and reached out for her, one hand on her waist, the other on her opposite arm. "Why would I let you pay on a date?"

  She stepped closer, her eyes tempered steel and put both arms around my neck. At first, I thought she was going to kiss me but she moved her lips to my ear and gently nipped my earlobe. "I'm so mad right now I don't know what to do to you. I didn't even say it was a date." Her breath tickled my ear and I was pretty sure she could feel my erection through my jeans.

  "What would you do if we weren't in public?" I said quietly, my hands might've slipped to her ass, pulling her closer. The restaurant wasn't as busy as it was earlier, the staff starting to clear and set up the tables for the following day.

  Her hands slipped into my hair and she pulled my lips down to hers and started to kiss me. I let her lead. I knew paying the bill would piss her off so right now I needed to let her have a little control. She pulled away. "I'd do that. But then I'd let you take over."

  I took her hand and walked her out of the restaurant onto the busy high street and towards Sophie's apartment.

  "You can slow down," she said. "The heels are more like ornaments for feet!"

  I paused, causing someone walking behind us to curse as we blocked their path. I looked down at her shoes and got another visual of her in those and nothing else. "Sorry. I want to get you home."

  Vanessa looked a mixture of cross and confused. "I know I said I didn't want to be tired tomorrow but..." I stopped her talking by stepping her back into the wall and kissing her, this time not letting her have a slither of control. She tasted of red wine and sweetness and her body was warm against mine as I explored her mouth with my tongue. She moved against me, her hips pushing into mine, her breasts against my chest.

  I pulled away. We were outside, in public and too many people had camera phones. "Fuck," I said. "I need to get you home, then I'm going home myself." I was telling myself more than her.

  "Why?" Her eyelids were lowered, pupils dilated and her hands were still on my biceps, fingers feeling. "Sophie's out and I don't know enough about your tattoos."

  "They'll still be here after your gran's gone home tomorrow," I said, taking hold of her hand again. "And I don't want to be arrested for indecency."

  We slowed down the walk and half pretended that the kiss didn't happen, talking about tomorrow and the museum and where to eat for dinner.

  "You're sure you want to come with us?" she said as we get to her apartment block. "You know, spending your Saturday with an eighty-year-old woman walking around an exhibit about underwear through the ages."

  "You sure you want me to come? You keep checking if I'm okay with it and I'm wondering if that means you're giving me a hint," I glanced at her as we walked. She had asked the same thing at least three times and it was starting to fuck me off. Yes, I would rather be going just with her as looking at underwear was only going to make me think about what she was wearing and what I could possibly take off later, but her gran sounded interesting and I needed Vanessa to know I wasn't just some businessman who was out to use her like her dickhead of an ex. It might have only been two days, but no one had delved under my skin this much and this fast for a long time.

  "I'm just curious as to why you want to come. Unless you have a granny fetish?" Her eyes danced evilly. We were at her apartment block so I stopped, no intention of walking past the concierge as I only had so much willpower.

  I tried to think of something to say that would make me sound intelligent and charming rather than desperately intrigued, but nothing occurred to me, so I went for honesty instead. "I really like you and I shouldn't because my firm's employing yours and it could make things messier for you with your ex, but because I'm a selfish bastard I want to get to know you more and for you to get to know me." I leaned closer to her, my lips to her ear. "I want to know how you say my name when I make you come." I heard her take a sharp intake of breath. I smiled, then I bent my head and kissed her, keeping my hands on her waist.

  "Goodnight, Vanessa Moore," I said. "And yes, it was a date." And then I walked away.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Chapter Seven

  Vanessa

  I woke on Saturday feeling deprived of more than just sleep. After Jackson had walked me home and made it clear that he wasn't going to come in I struggled to fall asleep. My brain replayed the kisses we'd shared, the feel of his hands on my ass, my skin and the breath of his words against my ear: I want to know how you say my name when I make you come. I should've yanked my vibrator from my underwear drawer, conjured up a fantasy where he did indeed make me come and eased the sexual tension that throbbed through me like the tide during a tsunami. No, I decided I wanted to wait until he did the job himself, which meant that my quality of sleep was second-hand-discount-store grade.

  Jackson messaged to say he was on his way to pick up Gran from Euston Station. I'd passed the message on and she'd responded with a selfie of her and the man himself ten minutes later. I could see one of her hands holding the helmet; the other was out of the shot and I had my suspicions as to where it was placed. My gran could always be trusted to get a crafty feel in when an attractive man was concerned and she got away with it simply because she was old.

  But certainly not stupid.

  I left my apartment and headed to Amelie's, determined to keep my hands to myself while Gran was around for the day. Any hint of anything other than friendship and Gran would be all over it like a rash. But after she had headed home, all bets were off: Sophie was right, it was time to dust off the lady parts and see if they were still in full working order, or if it was something else that Richard the dick had irreparably damaged and another thing to add to his bill.

  It was a warm late spring day, the London I'd loved since moving here for my master's degree was in full swing; even though it was still early, the streets were starting to bustle with a business that lacked the usual desperation of a weekday. I'd opted for skinny ripped jeans and a vest, a long necklace I'd picked up on a holiday in Marrakesh dangled in between my breasts and if I said I hadn't picked the outfit with Jackson in mind I'd be lying.

  Amelie's café was busy with tourists getting an early breakfast before heading off to Greenwich or the London Eye or one of the other attractions that served the millions of visitors that came to London each year. I wasn't a Londoner; the biggest part of my heart lived in Derbyshire, just near Bakewell, and I'd grown up a country girl in the midst of the Peak District. But I loved my adopted hometown and the fact that there was always something to do on a Saturday when work wasn't screaming too loudly or Richard hadn't persuaded me to spend the day further down the Thames with his boating friends from his private school, not something I'd generally enjoyed but did out of duty.

  Amelie showed me to a table big enough for four and provided coffee without me asking. It seemed that if you worked with Callaghan Greene she automatically understood that you needed fuel in the form of caffeine to function. I wasn't going to complain. "He's a nice man, Jackson," she said, smiling. "He doesn't realize it but he needs to settle down. He's lonely."

  "I'm not sure he could ever be lonely," I said, nibbling the cinnamon biscuit she'd provided with the coffee. "He's surrounded by family and with people nearly all the time. He's anything but lonely."

  "But sometimes," she said, sitting down
next to me. "Sometimes the loneliest place to be is in a crowded room. He's used to a big family, and although he's not the oldest, he's the one they all come to with their problems and worries. Who does he have?"

  "How do you know them so well?" I asked. Amelie was around my age, I'd guessed. Her hair today was washed light pink, nails painted in a leopard print design with pink instead of browns.

  "Sugar, I've known Maxwell, Jackson, and Claire since I came out of my mother's womb," she smiled. "Let Jacks tell you the story sometime. I need to prep breakfasts for the starving." I watched her walk to the counter wearing a long hippy style skirt and a broderie Anglaise sleeveless top, confused as to how she'd known them for so long when she seemed so unlike the Callaghan's.

  I was lost in thought when Jackson arrived with my grandmother who appeared to have acquired his leather jacket and was smoothing her hair down like she was one of the Pink Ladies in Grease. I raised my eyebrows at her, saying nothing, mainly because I didn't want to know the answer.

  "Well, honey, that was almost the ride of my life. Nearly beat the time I was on the back of Lawrie Turner's Harley back in '72," she said, sitting down opposite.

  "I'm not going to ask, Gran," I said, warning her with my tone. "Have a look at the menu and see what you want for breakfast."

  She eyeballed me and picked up the menu. Jackson entered a couple of minutes later, helmet free and smiling. "I've left the bike at the offices until tomorrow. I don't think the traffic cops would like me taking you and your gran on the back of it at the same time."

  "I think you'd have to pull in a few favors if you were caught."

  He sat next to me, immediately putting his hand on my back and moving close enough so that our legs were touching. My gran gave me a look that told me she knew exactly what was happening underneath the table and she approved. "How was your train journey, Gran?" I said. Jackson kept his hand on the small of my back, his thumb softly stroking me.

  "Not half as exciting as how I got here from Euston. Thank you for that, Jackson. It was kind of you to help an old lady out and save me from the heat and chaos of the tube," she said, nodding towards him. Like my gran needed saving. She was one of the most capable people I knew and she thrived off the chaos in London and the stories it gave her to tell her friends over bridge and sherry. Or tequila shots, on one occasion that I had nearly obliterated from my memory.