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She went to kiss him before he could even ask. Greg backed her against a free-standing bookcase, which wobbled precariously, so he changed direction, steering her against one of the wall cabinets. Holding back from her, letting their lips just touch.
It was all that was needed to start the long, slow burn that would build through the rest of the afternoon and most of the evening, until they had a chance to quench it. That might take most of the night.
He kissed her again, this time a little deeper. Or maybe it was Jess who did that. One of the things he loved about making love with her was that he was never really sure who was doing what for whom. Everything just flowed, one caress into another, without thought or artifice, pleasuring both of them in equal measure.
‘We’d better be getting on, then.’ He had no intention of leaving her satisfied. Not yet. Not for a long time.
‘Yeah. There’s a lot to do.’ Her hand nudged the top of his leg and he shuddered. The trouble with Jess was that she could play this game so much better than he could.
He gave up and reached for the list, keeping one arm coiled around her shoulders. ‘You know, I reckon most of these books are in the library at my father’s house.’ He still couldn’t quite bring himself to call it his own. ‘Can you do with some extra copies?’
‘Yes. I need to get as many as possible. I’ve got a lot of volunteers for the storytelling.’
‘So why don’t you send the list to my mother and she’ll sort them out and box them up? I’ll be up there some time before Christmas and I can pick them up.’
‘Would she mind? I’ll make sure I get them back to you.’
Greg laughed. ‘No, she’ll be very happy about that. She called me last night and asked me whether I was considering being a total ass and ignoring you for much longer.’
‘What did you tell her?’
‘I told her I’m not considering that.’
She gave a small nod. ‘Are we going to be okay, Greg?’ The way she looked at him, in almost agonised belief that he could make everything all right, wrenched his heart.
‘We’re working on it, honey. Together.’
‘Yes.’ That seemed to be enough for her, and she took refuge in his arms, pressing her cheek against his chest. She trusted him. He would do all he could not to let her down.
He kissed her lightly on the lips. ‘So, as we’re here to work, what do you want me to do?’
She laughed. Soft, sweet laughter, like an angel caressing his senses. ‘Sort out some of these books for me.’
The restaurant he took her to was only ten minutes’ walk from the hospital, along a little cobbled alleyway by the river. Jess hadn’t even known it was there, and guessed that it didn’t need to advertise itself too much. A small foyer, where they were stripped of their coats, and up a flight of stairs into an understated but noticeably classy eating area. Waiters, who appeared and disappeared as if they’d just walked out of the walls, and a no-frills menu that clearly underplayed some very haute cuisine.
The first course came and was cleared away, waiters melting in and out of the space around their table like wraiths who knew exactly when to appear and when to tactfully disappear. Jess had asked about Greg’s father’s book, expecting him to shrug it off, keep his feelings close to his chest, but instead he sent one of the waiters downstairs to fetch it from his coat.
‘Can I look?’ Jess was unsure just how much he wanted to share.
He nodded. ‘Yes. I’d like you to, if you don’t mind.’
It was the first time he’d let her see anything to do with his father or Shaw Industries. Jess’s hand shook as she flipped through the pages, full of closely written paragraphs and complex diagrams. This wasn’t what she had expected. ‘He’s written something.’
‘Yeah. Look a little closer.’
At first glance the text almost looked as if it should make sense. But when Jess scanned the pages more closely, she saw that Greg meant. Disjointed phrases, flashes, impressions that dangled the promise of some kind of meaning, but at the same time fell short of conveying anything. A chart that mus
t have meant something but had no labels.
‘I’m sorry, Greg. I know how much you wanted this to be something.’
He shrugged. ‘I shouldn’t have got my hopes up. He couldn’t communicate with me when he was alive and he sure as hell can’t do it now.’
Anger flashed across his face. Good. That was good. She’d rather see Greg rage at this than just coldly accept it.
‘Isn’t there anything in here that makes any sense?’ She turned the pages slowly, looking for something, anything, that might be an intelligible message.
‘Not to me. He shook his head. ‘Maybe he didn’t know what it meant either.’
