Wild Oats Read Online Free Page B

the back of her neck. Then he turned away and dived into the water.
    Jamie stood stock-still. One moment she had been rigid with fury and humiliation, then the next… His kiss should have filled her with further indignation, but it hadn’t. Her anger had melted, to be replaced by a feeling of swirling bliss.
    Her father’s second whistle from the shore brought her back to reality. She plunged into the cool water.Within seconds the moment was lost, and the feeling washed away.
    When they got back to shore, it seemed the holiday had come to an impromptu close. The Wildings’ car had been packed up hastily, ready for the journey home. Someone had shoved Jamie’s things back into her suitcase hurriedly; nothing had been folded. Jack ushered her into the car, muttering about a misunderstanding between ‘the girls’, as he always called Isabelle and Louisa. Louisa was waiting in the front seat, inscrutable behind her sunglasses.
    As Jack jumped in and started up the engine, driving away without so much as a backwards glance, Jamie was baffled. It was obvious she wasn’t going to get a proper explanation for their hasty departure, but she suspected it might have something to do with Olivier’s mother. She’d seen Isabelle giving Jack the come-on over the past week, her manicured hands on his knee, her demands for him to top up her champagne and rub in her suntan lotion. And the way Jack kept chirruping into cheerful conversation on the way home, only to be met with if not a stony, then a resigned, silence from Louisa, merely confirmed Jamie’s suspicions that her father had overstepped the mark. Not that she was bothered about finding out the truth. She was too busy reliving the agonizing memory of Olivier and that kiss. What might have happened between them if the holiday had been allowed to continue? She tortured herself as only a fifteen-year-old can, imagining all sorts of scenarios.
    Her fantasies sustained her on the interminable ferry-crossing all the way back to Bucklebury Farm.
    Now, as her bathwater went from scalding to lukewarm to cold, Jamie recalled the last moment she’d seen Olivier. They’d exchanged bewildered glances through the car window as Jack accelerated out of the drive, and he’d given her a helpless shrug as if to say he hadn’t a clue what was going on either. No one had actually said as much, but it was pretty clear that, whatever had gone on between the grown-ups, they were now sworn enemies and she was unlikely to see Olivier ever again…
    Yet here he was, evidently her father’s new best friend and with the upper hand to boot – while she’d been caught unawares, looking like the Wild Woman of Borneo. Grabbing the rusty old razor she’d found in the medicine cabinet, she was determined that the next time they met she’d be better equipped to do battle and regain her position as mistress of the house.
    Half an hour later, she felt like a different person. She’d managed to shave her legs and underarms, only nicking herself twice. Her hair was washed if not conditioned, and her nails were neatly trimmed and scrubbed. She promised herself a splurge in Boots the next day – the only beauty items she had left were a stick of deodorant, some Vaseline and a bottle of sun cream. In some ways, it had been liberating not to worry about her appearance for months on end, but now she was back on English soil she felt the need to be somewhat more groomed. She was, after all, gettinga little old to rely on her natural beauty. At just short of thirty, the youthful sparkle was beginning to fade. Or was she being hard on herself? She pulled on a faded pink T-shirt dress and realized that she’d lost weight – it had once clung snugly to her hips but now hung quite freely. Not that she’d ever been fat, but a combination of unreliable food sources and having to walk and climb long distances over the past months meant she was lean and toned. Or did she look haggard? There was nothing like massive