[ Truyện Tiếng Anh] Six Of Hearts

Six of Hearts
Six of Hearts Page 21



“Well, these kids mean a lot to me. I look at them, and I see myself at that age. I wanna give something back, you know?”

I stare at him, feeling myself growing fonder and fonder of this man by the second.

“So, will you come?” he prods. “Jessie will be there, too. She’s going to film it for YouTube.”

“Yes, I’ll come,” I say eagerly.

“Great, I’ll pick you up at five-thirty.” He bends over the table to ruffle my hair, and then he’s gone.

When I’m finished with work, I spruce myself up a little, letting my hair down out of the twist I’d had it in and changing from my heels into the reliable flats I always carry in my bag. If this thing is outdoors, I’m guessing there’s going to be a lot of standing involved.

“Knock knock,” I hear Jessie call as I quickly swipe on some lip gloss and leave the office bathroom. As I walk out, I see she’s holding a small video camera. Jay’s standing to the side of her, just out of range of the lens.

“Swit swoo, hot stuff coming through,” she whistles, and I shake my head at her, blushing. Jay’s repeatedly flicking a die high up into the air and catching it effortlessly.

“Stop filming me,” I say, self-conscious.

Hitching my bag up on my shoulder, I wave goodbye to Dad, who’s still in his office. We leave down the narrow staircase and out onto the street, but Jessie keeps on filming.

“I swear to God, I’ll sue you if I see myself in this YouTube video,” I warn her. “I work in a solicitor’s office, so you know I’ll do it.”

“Oh, come on. We need a bit of eye candy to get the teenage boy demographic interested,” Jessie jokes. “I’m sure they don’t want to look at Jay’s ugly mug the whole time.”

Jay’s mug is far from ugly, but no way am I admitting that out loud.

“Yeah, Watson. You’ve got to do this. It will help my career,” Jay agrees, a smug look on his face as we walk. He throws his arm around my shoulders and gives them a squeeze, then looks behind to Jessie. “Make sure you get a few ass shots in. Matilda has a rear end deserving of online attention.”

I shove him with my elbow, and he laughs. “If you film my arse, I swear to God, I really will sue.”

He raises his eyebrow at me, and I can’t help the tiny smile forcing its way onto my face. Then he takes things a step too far when he leisurely slides his hand down my back to my bottom. I let out a tiny gasp when he gives it a good, firm squeeze. Immediately, I swipe his hand away.

“Don’t do that again,” I warn, annoyed by the charming grin on his face, and the fact that I still find it charming after what he just did. Jessie’s having a good old laugh as she trails behind us.

“Oh, come on. Don’t be pissed,” says Jay, trying to placate me. “We were talking about your ass, darlin’. I couldn’t myself.”

“He’s an arse man,” Jessie puts in, nodding her head in agreement.

I scowl at the both of them, but I can’t stay angry for too long.

A few minutes later we come into view of the meeting spot where Jay’s fans are waiting, and I have to keep my jaw from dropping. There’s at least a hundred people, maybe more. Jay sticks his finger in his mouth and lets out a loud whistle as we approach; heads turn in his direction, and they all start cheering. He climbs up onto the high wall surrounding a nearby business and gives them all a theatrical bow.

I stand off to the side with Jessie as she captures it on film. She’s not the only one, either. Half the kids here have their phones out, recording videos.

“Thanks for coming, everyone,” says Jay loudly from above. Funnily enough, the acoustics are pretty good, so he doesn’t have to shout to be heard. “Wanna see something cool?” he asks, taking out the die he’d had back in the office.

With it resting between his thumb and index finger, he flicks it dexterously up into the air. We all watch as it goes up and then comes back down, and I wish I hadn’t blinked, because somewhere on the way down one becomes two. The crowd claps loudly, whistles ringing out, while Jay takes the two dice and flicks them the same as before. They multiply again, becoming four, and he starts juggling them. They continue to multiply, moving in a circle through the air, his hands as quick as lightning. Soon he’s got about ten of them on the go, and I can’t figure out how he did it. I didn’t see him slip any out of his sleeves, or slide them from his pockets. They literally appeared out of thin air.

When he has too many to handle, he starts tossing them, one at a time, to random members of the crowd. Dozens of teenagers dive for them, eager to have a little keepsake from their favourite illusionist. Jay pulls out a deck of cards and begins doing an elaborate trick with a girl named Sarah who volunteered. She seems at once mortified and delighted to have been selected. Jay walks through the crowd, shuffling the cards and detailing what he’s going to do.

He’s close to the entrance of one of the businesses that surround the area, fronted by large glass sliding doors. The sliding doors open as three women in office attire leave the building. Jay is walking backward as he speaks, and steps just inside the glass doors. He’s still talking as they shut in front of him, and as the glass closes over his body, he vanishes. The doors open again as more workers come out, and he reappears, still going on with his spiel as though he didn’t just make himself disappear.

All around me the teenagers go crazy, clapping and cheering. A few men in suits come out of the building then, and Jay bumps into them by mistake. It all happens so quickly. He apologises, patting one of the men on the shoulder, and I don’t know how I catch it, but I think I see his other hand slip inside the man’s pocket for a split second. It’s all so fast that I can’t be sure it actually happened.

The men continue on their way, but something about the whole thing niggles at me. The man Jay patted on the shoulder looked familiar, and I have to wrack my brain to remember where I’ve seen him before. Then it hits me. He’s the same old guy Jay had been eyeing up in the casino that time, the one Jessie warned him to stop staring at.

What the hell is going on here?

When I look back at the building, a sudden feeling of unease comes over me as I recall the business it houses. No, not a business, but a publication. The Daily Post, to be exact.

I’d like to think that this is a coincidence, but the little I know of Jay would lead me to believe otherwise. He’s too clever to have overlooked this. Why on earth would he stage his gathering outside the place he wants *****e?

The cards he’s using today aren’t a regular deck of cards, but a deck of tarot cards. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a magic trick that involves tarot cards before. Sarah, the girl who volunteered, picks a card. Jay gives her a pen and instructs her to sign her name on the back of it, tear it up, and stick the pieces in her bag. She does so quickly.

“I’m going to guess your card, but I’m not going to tell you what it is,” says Jay. “I’m going to show you.”

There’s quiet among the gathering for a few short moments, the city sounds of people and traffic washing over us.

“Okay, the card is somewhere on the street. Can anybody spot it?”

They all get excited, running around trying to find the card, but I have a feeling it’s not a physical card they should be looking for. I peer about, trying to spot it, when Jessie elbows me and nods up at the newspaper building. There on a window on the fourth floor is the outline of a picture in what looks like red chalk.

Even though I’m clueless about tarot cards, I’d know this image anywhere. Anybody who works in law would recognise the symbol of Justice, sitting with a sword in her right hand and scales in her left.

Wow.

I’d been looking at the building closely earlier when I realised what it houses, and I definitely hadn’t seen this image on the window. My eyes would have been drawn to the colour; the red is too vibrant for it to have escaped my attention.

Finally, one of the teenagers spots it and starts shouting at everyone to look. Sarah puts her hand over her mouth in shock, not saying a word, while her friends all yell and squeal with excitement. Jay sits perched on the edge of the wall, smiling indulgently down at his fans, his chin resting on his palm. His eyes sparkle with glee as he soaks up their reactions, savouring the effect his trick has on them, the thrill it gives them. In his gaze I see him reliving a childhood that was taken away too soon, like he said to me that time in my garden.

“Was I right?” he asks Sarah. “Was Justice your card?”

All she can do is nod, words still failing her. As the crowd starts applauding him, several people shouting to know how he did it, the window on the fourth floor opens, and a woman sticks her head out.

She looks all around, probably trying to figure out where the image came from and how it managed to get on her window in the first place. Then she looks down and pauses for several moments, her eyes zoning...

Six of Hearts
Six of Hearts Page 22



Seventeen

Jessie pans her camera over the crowd as they all applaud Jay’s big finish. Then she shuts it off.

“Okay, how the f**k?” I say, shaking my head in confusion. I seem to be doing that a lot these days.

Jessie laughs. “Out of everything he did today, that one was probably the simplest, and yet look at them all. I think some of them actually believe he really is magic.”

“Simple?! He just made himself disappear. There’s nothing simple about that.”

“Look at where he was standing, Matilda,” says Jessie, deadpan.

“He was standing on the wall.”

She gives me a glance like I’m slow. “Yeah, so he just did a bit of fancy messing around with the cape, obscuring himself enough so that he could drop to the other side. You don’t have to be a genius to figure that out.”

I slam my palm to my forehead. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.”

“He’s a flashy bastard. Most people are so dazed by the flash that they don’t see the trick. Come on, he’s probably waiting for us.”

She starts walking, and I follow her lead. “Hey, I thought you were under a contract not to reveal any of his secrets?”

“He won’t mind me telling you that one. It’s kid’s stuff. The more complicated ones, now, if I told you about those he’d probably have my balls in a blender.”

I don’t point out the fact that girls don’t have balls. Although, if there was a girl to change that, it would definitely be Jessie. We walk down a side street to find Jay leaning casually against the wall of a building, smoking a cigarette with a big smile on his face. As soon as I reach him, he throws his arm around my shoulders.

“Well, what did you think?”

“You were amazing,” I tell him shyly.

Jessie snorts. “Now I know why you like having her around so much. She strokes your ego no end.”

“That’s not all she strokes,” says Jay, giving her a cheeky wink.

“Oh, my God, you did not just say that!” I look to Jessie. “He’s lying. Tell her you’re lying.”

“Now, why would I lie and tell her I’m lying?” he teases, his grin deepening by the second. God, I hate him sometimes.

“Ugh, don’t listen to him. There has been no stroking between us.”

Jay’s deep chuckle makes me shiver, and I know what I’ve said isn’t technically true, but whatever. “Okay, now that that’s all cleared up. Who wants pancakes for dinner?”

“Number one,” says Jessie. “You’re in Europe now. They’re not pancakes, they’re crepes. And number two, unless we’re talking the savoury kind, who eats crepes for dinner?”

“I still call them pancakes,” I put in. “You can do either, really. Plus, I love dessert for dinner.”

Jay’s hand moves to clasp my neck, giving it a tender squeeze. It takes me by surprise because it’s such an intimate place to touch someone. Involuntarily, I shiver.

“You see. Watson agrees with me. Pancakes it is.”

I have to try hard not to react too much to his hand placement, but there are goose pimples running all the way down my spine. His thumb brushes back and forth over my skin, giving me tingles.

When we arrive at a nearby crepe café and go inside, we get a table by the window. I order peanut butter and Nutella crepes with no small amount of delight, and Jay is so taken with my childlike glee that he goes for the same. Jessie asks for a BLT, not indulging in my “dessert for dinner” idea.

“Okay,” I say after we’ve been served our food and I’ve stuffed down half of mine already. I need a breather before I can finish it all. “I really, really, really would be forever indebted to you if you just revealed how you did one trick. Just one, that’s all I’m asking for.”

Jay wipes his mouth with a napkin, his lips forming a smirk. “When you say ‘forever indebted,’ just what are we talking about here?”

Jessie makes a foreboding sound. “No way, sweetheart. You don’t want to do that. This f**ker’s a slave driver when you owe him.”

“Okay, well, maybe I won’t be forever in your debt. Perhaps I was getting a little carried away with myself. If you tell me one trick, I’ll owe you one thing in return. You can decide, but it has to be reasonable, like washing your car or something.”

Jay leans forward and steeples his fingers in front of him. “Will you wash my car topless?” he asks huskily.

My cheeks colour, and Jessie lets out a bark of a laugh. “Oh, now, that is a good idea.”

“Okay, let me amend my offer. I will owe you, but it can’t be ***ual.”

“Topless isn’t ***ual,” says Jay. “Topless is natural.”

“I second that,” Jessie adds.

“How about braless?” Jay goes on.

God, these two. Why do I even bother?

“Fine. I retract my offer,” I huff, sitting back in my seat and folding my arms.

“Hey, now, I never said I wouldn’t agree to non***ual. How about this? I’ll tell you how I did one trick, and in exchange you have to come work with me the next time I do some shows in Vegas?”

I stare at him for a long time. “Uh, how is that payment? That’s a free holiday.”

“A working holiday,” Jay amends.

“Okay, you don’t have to threaten me with a free holiday twice,” I say, smiling widely. “It’s a deal.” I reach out and we shake on it, Jay clasping my hand tight.

“It’s a deal, darlin’. Now, tell me which trick you want me to explain.”

“Oh, my God,” says Jessie. “This is new. You never told me any of your secrets until I’d signed on the dotted line.”

“Matilda made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

“Of course she did.”

Ignoring their banter, I try to think of which trick I want explained. It feels like there are so many. “All right, I suppose what I really want to know is how you got the Justice card drawn on Una Harris’ window. It definitely wasn’t there beforehand, and it was up way too high for you to reach.”

Jay rubs at his chin, looking around the café. “Ah, now, that one is elementary, my dear Watson. I think I’m gonna need some props for this explanation, though.” He gets up from his seat and walks over to the service counter, having a word with the guy on duty. Then he comes back carrying a shaker of paprika and a squeezy bottle of honey. Yuck, does he plan on putting those together on his pancakes?

Jessie looks a little disgruntled when he starts pushing all our plates out of the way to clear the table.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Just watch.”

Popping open the bottle of honey, he starts to pour it onto the surface of the table in quick movements. When I look down I see that he’s actually writing my name in stylish lettering. Pretty cool, but I still don’t get it. Next, he unscrews the cap on the paprika and pours some out into his hand before scattering the red spice all over the honey. Lastly, he bends down and blows hard. The excess paprika scatters away, leaving only the bits that have stuck to the honey. And there’s my name written in red.

“Okay, fancy,” I say, looking at him again, a niggling idea of his point forming in my head.

“That’s basically how I did it, though I’ll admit I had help. You remember meeting Sharon, who does wardrobe for my show?”

I nod.

“Well, she’s also a really great artist and works in unconventional mediums. Early this morning I paid the same guy you saw clean Harris’ window today to bring us up on the crane. Once there, Sharon drew an outline of the Justice card on the glass in washable glue, invisible unless you’re looking really closely. Harris’ office window is at an angle with the building next to it, so we bribed our way into the room facing Harris’. While I was holding the attention of the crowd, Sharon was there with a tube full of powdered chalk. She blew it out the window and it stuck to the glue, thus highlighting the image. The wind blew away the excess dust in only a few seconds, so the next time the crowd looked at the window, the image was there.”

Oh. That’s so f**king cool! It’s actually all very practical when explained like that. But you know what, I think I preferred not knowing. The mystery is part of the thrill. Well, at least I didn’t agree to wash his car topless.

“Happy now?” Jay asks.

“It’s certainly very clever. I don’t know how you think of these things. They’re just so slick.”

He grins. “Why, thank you.”

“But why do it on Una Harris’ office window? Isn’t that just asking for trouble?”

“Hey, I’ve kept my distance for long enough. She needs to know I’m not going to lie down and play dead while she stomps all over my career.”

“I think she’ll get the message once...

Six of Hearts
Six of Hearts Page 23



He swears under his breath, his hand coming up to caress my face as he whispers, “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

“But I did. So tell me what you took.”

“You really are my little Watson, aren’t you? Nothing escapes these baby blues,” he says, and it feels like he’s trying to distract me with the compliment.

“Jay, I want to know what you took. You can’t go stealing from people who work for the newspaper when you’re trying to build a lawsuit against them. Any tiny detail could go against you in court.”

“What if I told you no one will ever find out about it?”

“I’d still want to know. I don’t like lies.”

“This isn’t a lie. It’s a secret. One I need to keep for now, but I will tell you…someday.”

I purse my lips, suddenly irritated by the sticky energy drink that’s coating my skin. I frown and sidestep him, grabbing the top he just took off me and walking to the door.

“I need to go take a bath and wash this crap off me,” I mumble.

“Matilda.”

“It’s fine. You can keep your secrets, Jay. Just don’t expect me to fully trust you so long as you do.”

There’s an odd expression on his face as I walk out of the room, a strange mix of frustration and hurt.

Eighteen

Upstairs, I close the bathroom door and lock it before exhaling a long breath. Once I’ve gathered myself, I fill the tub. After what just happened, I don’t trust Jay not to waltz right in while I’m bathing. I’m still annoyed at him for being secretive, but I’m also regretting putting a stop to whatever it was we were doing. These days it feels like I need his touch like I need air to breathe, and it’s so seldom that I actually get it.

I strip off once the tub’s full and step in, the warm water soothing my nerves. It’s like every single one of my muscles is wound up tight.

I stay there for a long while, my eyes closed, trying to forget about Jay’s hands on me. It was so unexpected, and I can still feel him touching me, how it made me ache, made me instantly wet. It’s been so long since I’ve been with a man, and even then he wasn’t really a man, just a boy. My ex-boyfriend (and only boyfriend) was the same age I was. Neither of us really had a clue what we were doing half the time.

I can’t imagine it being like that with Jay. Granted, he’s only four years older, but he seems so much more…experienced than I am. I feel like he could teach me things I couldn’t even fathom. I see him in my head, out in the garden doing pushups on the grass, his muscles moving, flexing, sweat dripping off him.

It’s times like these that I wish I owned a vibrator. Christ, I feel like I didn’t even own a libido until Jay came into my life. Now my mind is just a churning bucket of frustration and ***ual thoughts.

I remember the night he’d offered to go down on me. He probably puts just as much dedication into the act as he does everything else. My skin tingles just thinking about it, my ni**les hardening in the water. My hand rests innocently on my belly, but as my erotic thoughts take over, I start to stroke my skin, breath whooshing out of me as I imagine Jay’s hand doing it.

My thighs fall apart as my fingers move lower, dancing whisper soft over my sensitive flesh, my cl*t throbbing to be touched. A second later I jump in fright when someone knocks on the door.

“Darlin’, can we talk?” comes Jay’s deep voice. I have to bite my lip not to moan at the sound of it. Feeling daring, I seek out my clit, rubbing it slowly. I mean, the door is locked. He’ll never know. A little thrill goes through me.

Finally, I answer quietly, “This isn’t a good time.”

I hear his body slide down the door, his bottom hitting the floor as he sits. “I’ll stay out here. I don’t like fighting with you, Watson. We’re supposed to be besties, remember?”

“I’m — I’m taking a bath, Jay. We can talk later,” I manage, trying to sound normal, but my breathing is far too laboured. I shouldn’t be touching myself with him right behind the door, but I can’t seem to help it. Reaching up, I mould my breast in my hand and pinch my nipple, sending tremors all throughout my body.

I realise that Jay’s been quiet for far too long. I didn’t make any noises, did I? No, I know I didn’t. I’m not that reckless.

“How’s your bath going?” he asks. His voice sounds different now, lower.

“I said we’ll talk later. Can you go?” I croak, unable to help sliding my fingers inside myself, my walls clenching tight around them.

There’s a smile in his voice when he goes on, “What are you doing in there, baby?”

“Nothing,” I answer, a little too quickly.

“Okay, you keep on doing nothing. I’ll just sit here while you’re at it. This spot is surprisingly comfortable.”

Bastard. I want to tell him to leave again, but I know he’s not going to. I’m on the cusp of coming, that crazy place where you’re too full of pleasure to stop. You want the release so badly that for those few insane moments you don’t care if somebody’s listening. If they know exactly what you’re doing. Embarrassment is a land far, far away.

I pinch my nipple again as I rub at my cl*t fast now, my foot braced against the end of the tub. I’m so close to coming, but it’s Jay’s voice that sends me over the edge.

“You making yourself feel good?” he asks, his voice a quiet, rumbling caress.

A tiny moan escapes me before I can stifle it, and I come on my hand, my entire body pulsating with the pleasure.

“Yes,” I answer softly, coming down from the high.

My heart jolts when the doorknob turns. I remember that I locked it, though, and I breathe evenly.

“What are you doing?” I demand.

“I want to come in,” he murmurs, still behind the closed door.

“I’m in the bath. Naked!”

“Exactly,” he answers. I can tell the exact smug expression he’s got on his face right now, even though I can’t see him. There’s a curious scratching sound at the lock, and I wonder what he’s up to. When the knob turns again and the door starts to open, I dive out of the tub, slamming my body against the door to keep it shut.

Keeping my body against the door, I reach over and grab a towel to cover myself.

“Did you just pick the f**king lock?” I gasp, wrapping the towel around my body.

“Another of my many talents,” Jay replies.

“You’re overstepping the line.”

His tone is dark — reprimanding, almost. “Oh, so now there’s a line. You just let me listen to you masturbate, darlin’.”

Okay, so when he puts it like that, it’s kind of hard to argue with him. Still, my immediate response is to deny everything. “I don’t know what on earth you’re talking about, but you need to get away from the door and leave me alone.”

I open it just a sliver and peek my head out to show him I mean business. Unfortunately, when his eyes lock on mine, I melt. He sucks in a breath when he sees me, his hand reaching through the crack to touch my chin. Then his thumb moves up and brushes my bottom lip.

“****, look at you,” he growls.

I’m so caught up in the way he’s staring at me, like he could devour me whole, that I forget to keep my hold on the door. He pushes it open easily and pounces on me, lifting me up into his arms, my legs straddling his waist, and carrying me into my bedroom. He settles me down on the mattress, moving to brace himself above me.

“Such a temptation,” he whispers, like he’s reprimanding himself. “How the f**k do I resist this?”

I’m not anticipating it when his mouth descends on mine, taking my lips in a hard, frenzied kiss that I feel all the way to my toes. My skin grows hot and feverish. I moan into his mouth as his tongue plunders inside, tangling with mine, sliding in and out. My legs fall apart, and he pushes into me, his erection grinding hard into my ***. I feel empty, aching to have him inside me.

He hums as he kisses me, possesses me with his mouth. The sound vibrates low in my belly. When he breaks the kiss a moment later and pulls back, he looks down and swears profusely. I follow his gaze to see my towel’s fallen open and I’m 100-percent, no-holds-barred na**d.

His mouth goes to my neck, licking and sucking, sending shivers down my back that culminate at the base of my spine. I could come again just from that.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs into my skin, and my heart stops. No one’s ever called me beautiful before. I’ve had pretty (from Dad), but not beautiful. Hell, I’ve never really felt beautiful until this moment, with his mouth on me, making my every pore come alive. One hand teases my nipple, the other moulding my hip.

“Hold onto the bed frame,” he says past a groan.

“W-what?” I ask, hardly able to form the word, I’m so lost to him.

He clears his throat, his eyes blazing into mine....

Six of Hearts
Six of Hearts Page 24



“I have to answer it. It’s Michelle. She knows I’m here. I told her I would be.”

“****.”

I smile at how annoyed he is by the prospect of breaking the little moment we’re sharing. “You need to go shower anyway. You’re still all sweaty from your workout.”

His eyes heat up as he moves to lean over me. “You love it.”

All I can manage in response is a shy smile.

Placing a soft, sweet kiss to my lips, he rolls off me and stands up. “A shower it is, then,” he says before leaving the room. I quickly grab some yoga pants and a T-shirt, throwing them on and hurrying downstairs to answer the door for Michelle. She’s ringing the bell now, getting impatient. My hair is still wet when I open the door.

“Sorry, I was in the bath,” I say as she comes inside.

She gives me a look and laughs. “Bit of a weird hour for a bath, but each to their own. Let’s go sit out on your patio. It’s a lovely day.”

I make us a selection of sandwiches and fill a jug with orange juice, bringing them all out to the deck furniture in the garden where Michelle is currently lounging. She’s wearing a yellow halter top that showcases her small but pert boobs, probably hoping to get a bit of a tan. The warm sun hits my feet, and I realise I’ve been going around barefoot, frazzled as I am by the day’s strange turn of events.

“So, any news?” Michelle asks, picking up a sandwich and taking a dainty bite.

Oh, I have news, all right. I’m not sure I want to broach the subject right now, though, not with Jay just upstairs anyway.

“Not really. You?”

She shrugs. “It was a slow week at work. Ooh, but I did see Michael Fassbender go by when I was leaving the office yesterday, so that brightened things up a little.”

“Really? Who was he with?” I ask curiously. Michelle has the uncanny luck of randomly seeing famous people in her everyday life. It’s weird. One time she was in the same queue as Gabriel Byrne in the supermarket.

“Just some old guy. At least, I think it was Michael Fassbender. It could have easily been a lookalike.”

At this Jay steps out into the garden, his hair damp and his clothes changed. Michelle eyes him as he pulls up a chair and sits. “You read my mind, Watson. I’m starving,” he says, grabbing a sandwich and eating it in one huge, hungry bite. I stare at his mouth, all too aware of where it’s just been. The heated look he gives me in return tells me he knows exactly what I’m thinking.

“Oh, yeah, help yourself,” I say sarcastically. I don’t really know what way to be around him now.

“Don’t mind if I do,” he replies, giving me a loaded stare.

When I glance at Michelle, I see her looking between the two of us, a smile tugging at her lips.

“So, you both just had baths at, hmmm” — she glances down at her watch — “two o’clock in the afternoon.”

I pretend not to get what she’s getting at, frowning. “What? I had a bath. Jay had a shower. He has his own en-suite. And why are you so concerned about our personal hygiene habits?”

Jay’s smirking, but he’s not looking at me, focusing mainly on seriously depleting our sandwich situation. I know why he’s smirking, too. I just got a little overly defensive at Michelle’s statement.

“O-kay,” says Michelle, taking a sip of her juice. “I was only making an observation.” She pauses and dusts some crumbs from her lap, then asks randomly, “So, is Jessie coming over today?”

Now it’s my turn to get curious. I don’t know what it is, but there’s something in her tone that’s different. Like she’s trying too hard to sound casual. I look to Jay.

“Is she?”

He shakes his head, his hand moving sneakily to rest on my thigh under the table. I gasp in a tiny breath but try not to make a big deal of it, not wanting Michelle to notice. “Not that I know of, darlin’.”

His voice is slicker than usual, lazier. Is this what he sounds like after making women come? He seems so…satisfied.

“Oh, well, that’s a shame. She was so much fun last week after your show,” says Michelle.

Jay raises an eyebrow, looking at Michelle in an intense way for a second. “That’s interesting.”

“What?” she asks, sitting up straighter.

Oh, no, is he reading her?

“Your pupils dilated when you were talking about Jessie,” Jay explains casually. “Do you know what that means?”

“My pupils weren’t dilated,” says Michelle in a rare moment of self-consciousness. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her like this before. She scratches at her neck.

“They were. They got f**king huge, honey.” He leans in on his elbow. “It means you were aroused. You like Jessie, don’t ya?”

I nudge him in the side. “Leave her alone, Jay.”

“We’re having a friendly conversation, Matilda,” he replies, moving his hand up my thigh and squeezing hard. I clench my fist to keep from physically removing it.

“You two are being weird,” Michelle observes, picking up another sandwich. “What’s going on?”

Her questioning makes me mildly defensive. “We’re being weird?” I reply, laughing. “You’re the one whose pupils got dilated at the mention of a girl. I thought you left your experimental days behind you when you finished college.”

She sighs and slumps back in her seat. “Whatever. I like to think there’ll always be a part of me that’s fond of the ladies. Like ten percent of my va**na is into clam while the other ninety percent likes a good sausage.”

I practically choke on my laughter. Trust Michelle to always know how to put me in my place. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

“Jessie got you back to her place last week, didn’t she?” Jay surmises.

Michelle gives him a demure look. “She might have.”

“What!?” I interrupt in a fake voice of insult. “Something happened between you two and you didn’t tell me? This is an outrage!”

“Oh, calm down, Jemima. Not much happened. We had a little…fumble. That’s all. I enjoyed it, though. Wouldn’t mind a round two.”

“Jessie likes to turn the straight ones,” says Jay to me. “It’s her thing.”

“Well, she can turn me for a night any time,” says Michelle, licking her lips.

“Just don’t go leading her on,” I say, frowning now. Jessie might have a thing for turning straight girls, but Michelle has a thing for playing with the mice she catches before she eats them alive.

“Pffft.” Michelle waves away my concerns. “I couldn’t lead that woman on even if I tried. She’s a total stud. Probably has a new girl every night.”

“You’re not too far off,” says Jay, pulling his phone from his pocket. “Speaking of which, here she is now.” He answers the phone and steps away to talk.

“Don’t tell her I was talking about her,” Michelle whisper-shouts at him.

He gives her a wry nod and starts talking seriously on the phone. I wonder what that’s all about. Before I have the chance to ponder it further, Michelle grabs my wrist and practically yanks me across the table.

“Okay, I want to know everything that’s going on with you and Mr Magic Hands, and I want every last detail.”

Nineteen

I surprise even myself when I decide not to tell Michelle what happened between Jay and me. Here’s my reasoning: I want to save face, just in case it turns out that all this was to him was a roll in the hay. Michelle knows about my quest for epic love, and I don’t want her to judge me for letting my newfound libido lose the run of itself.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I know she wouldn’t judge me, but let’s face it, talking about *** is embarrassing. She’s always been the one to tell me about her bedroom adventures, not the other way around. To put it plainly, I have no problem talking about other people ha**ng s*x, but talking about me ha**ng s*x, well, that’s a whole other kettle of uncomfortable collar fiddling. I wouldn’t know where to begin in explaining to her just how spectacularly Jay managed to rock my world after what must have been a record-breaking dry spell.

“Nothing’s going on. He’s just flirty. He flirts with everyone,” I answer dismissively.

“Eh, no, he doesn’t. He hasn’t so much as given me a backward glance since I first met him, and that’s probably because he’s too busy giving you all his backward glances to even notice that other women exist.”

“Oh, shut up. You’re reading too much into it.”

“I am not, but if you want to sail your pretty little rowboat down the Nile and take in the scenery, then I’m not going to be the one to stop you.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you use twenty words when five will do? I thought they were supposed to teach you the opposite...

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“Morning,” I reply, not looking at him.

He comes over and slides some bacon onto my plate. “So,” he begins smugly, “you snuck into bed with me last night. That was a nice surprise.”

My heart thumps at his words. “What?”

“I woke up with a beautiful woman in my arms. Not a bad way to greet the day, especially considering I went to bed alone.” He winks.

“You don’t remember,” I say in realisation, inwardly purring at him calling me beautiful for the second time. I could get used to that.

He takes the chair opposite me and sits, his brow furrowing. “Don’t remember what, darlin’?”

“I woke up because I could hear you having a nightmare. It sounded bad, so I went into your room to try to calm you down. Then you pulled me onto your bed and wouldn’t let me go. Me being there seemed to help you sleep, so I stayed.”

He scratches his gorgeously sleep-ruffled hair. He seems embarrassed for the first time ever. “Ah, yeah. I have trouble sleeping sometimes. It’s a problem.”

“Do you have insomnia?”

“You could call it that. Basically, my brain won’t shut down enough for me to get a good night’s sleep. It goes on for weeks, and then I’ll conk out for an entire day from exhaustion. Then the cycle will start all over again.”

“That sounds awful. Have you tried medicating for it?”

“I’ve tried lots of stuff. None of it works 100 percent. If I take sleeping pills, they make me drowsy, but they don’t make me sleep. Basically, I’m awake but more tired than I would’ve been if I didn’t take the pills. I have a technique that works most of the time.”

“A technique?”

“Yeah, I pace, reciting lists in my head. All of the things I’ve achieved and all the things I plan to achieve. Listing them relaxes me enough to sleep most nights. The problem is, if I haven’t completed something, it niggles at me when I recite the list, which screws everything up and keeps me awake.”

Oh, so that’s what the pacing is about. It’s a little concerning that he needs to do something like that in order to sleep. Still, I don’t want to be critical, so I reassure him.

“Ah, yeah, I get that. You know, that’s a really good technique. I read somewhere once that we replay the day in our heads before we go to sleep. It gives us a sense that everything is done and dusted.”

Jay looks at me for a long minute, so long that I start to get self-conscious. “I sleep better when you’re with me,” he says, voice low.

I try to make light of his seriousness, ignoring the tingles beneath my skin. “Like in a pile? You’re such a big kid.”

Something tugs at his lips. “Doesn’t have to be a pile. There are a number of positions I’m partial to. You want me to show you?”

His tone dips low on the word “positions,” and I focus on chewing the salty, crispy bacon he cooked for me. “No need for any show-and-tell.”

Jay chuckles, and we eat in quiet for a minute.

“Are you doing anything later on?” he asks then. “I’d like to take you somewhere.”

“Not really. I’m going to do some sewing today, then I’m free as a bird. Where do you want to take me?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Hmm, I’m beginning to think you might be just as partial to annoying secrets as you are to positions, Mr Fields,” I joke.

“Yeah, well, it’s not my fault I love those little gasps you make when you’re surprised,” he answers brazenly, a taunting gleam in his eye.

I point my slice of toast at him. “You’re in rare form this morning.”

“I’m glad my form impresses you.”

“You would be glad, you…pea****.”

A bark of laughter erupts from him. “Pea****?”

“What? I’m tired. I’m not good at thinking up witty comebacks when I’m tired.”

“You know, I do like the way your lips move when you say ‘pea****.’”

I look at him, my mouth forming a surprised “O.” When I find the words to speak, I give him a flat, “Shut up.”

“Finish your breakfast and get some energy into you, tired Tilly,” he says, looking at me fondly.

I stab a piece of bacon with my fork. “Don’t call me Tilly.”

He raises his hands in the air, laughing. “Okay. You don’t like Tilly. Duly noted.”

***

If there’s one thing that I love doing with Jay, it’s riding with him…in his car. Minds out of the gutter, please. He gave me strict instructions not to eat any dinner, and when we were leaving, he tucked a large duffel bag in the trunk. I thought he might be taking me out to dinner, but the duffel bag threw me. So now I haven’t the foggiest where he’s taking me or what he plans on doing when we get there.

I mess around with my seat, reclining it so I can relax and let the wind rush through my hair, the window open beside me. Jay parks in a Georgian area of the city and helps me out, retrieving the duffel bag.

“You don’t have a bunch of murder weapons in there, do you?” I joke as he leads me down the street.

He only gives me an elusive smile. “Nope.”

We near a small park, and there’s a line of people queuing up outside the gates. Jay takes my hand in his, our fingers intertwining as we join the queue.

“If you don’t tell me what this is, I’m going to ask the people standing in front of us,” I push.

“Do it and face the consequences,” he warns.

I scowl and resign myself to not knowing until he decides it’s time to reveal his plans. The queue moves forward slowly, and when we reach the gates leading into the park, I crane my neck to see inside. I can’t see much, but I do notice some pretty fairy lights hung through the trees. They look magical.

Jay hands the girl at the gate two tickets, and she stamps our hands with red dots. Pulling me inside, Jay leads me through the trees lined with fairy lights and into an open grassy area where people are setting down blankets and picnics. At the top of the open space, someone has set up at huge projection screen, and that’s when it all clicks into place. Outdoor cinema! I’ve never been to an outdoor cinema before. How wonderful.

“Jay,” I whisper to him, touched.

He turns his head to me slightly, but keeps walking, searching for a good spot to set up.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for bringing me here. I love it.”

He smiles tenderly. “The movie hasn’t even started yet.”

“What is it?”

He gives me a shiver-inducing look. “The Piano.”

His answer makes me blush like crazy. Trust him not to forget about me telling him how much I, uh, enjoy that film. He doesn’t draw out my embarrassment, but instead pulls a fleece blanket from the duffle bag and spreads it out on a patch of grass close to the back of the park. The sky is starting to darken, somewhere in between day and night, and a terrible sense of romance clutches at my chest. He planned all of this. For me. For us.

Um, yeah. That’s just a cough that’s catching in my throat. It’s not emotion, I swear.

Gesturing for me to sit down, he takes some plastic food containers out of the bag and a small chill box containing a bottle of wine. Hmm, is he planning on getting me drunk? The food is an array of sandwiches, chips, and dips. The perfect picnic combination.

“This is nice,” I say, giving him a curious smile. “You planned all this yourself?”

When he looks at me, it’s not what I’m expecting. He seems guilty for some reason, and almost…sad. It’s a swift turnaround, and it takes me by surprise. Reaching to his neck and scratching, he replies, “Yeah, I wanted to do something for you, something you’d like.” He hands me a paper plate with some sandwiches. “Here, eat up.”

“Thanks,” I reply, still eyeing him. There’s something off about him all of a sudden, but I can’t put my finger on it.

Once it gets completely dark, the movie starts up, and Jay pulls me to sit between his legs, my back resting on his chest. The nearness makes me remember yesterday, his mouth on me, how incredible it felt. He runs his fingertips up and down my arms, noticing my skin pimpling with the cold.

“It’s getting chilly. I brought another blanket,” he says, pulling one from the bag and covering us both with it. I sink into him, feeling his breath tickle the back of my neck. A little into the movie, he pours us some wine into the plastic cups he brought. I sip on mine, savouring the moment, watching one of my favourite movies with a man my feelings are latching onto.

When I’m finished drinking, he takes the cup from me and sets it aside, wrapping both his arms around my middle and holding me tight. The scene I’d described to him comes on, and I close my eyes, unable to handle the intensity of watching it while he’s holding me so close.

I want him tonight. I want him to...

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“Jay! Let me down!” I squeal, wiggling in his hold. He doesn’t put me down until he reaches his car and sets me in the back. I’m about to crawl out when he slams the door shut and locks it. I try the handle, but it won’t budge.

“It’s for your own safety,” I hear him say through the glass as he goes back inside the park.

Oh, my God, I couldn’t be any more pissed off right now. He just locked me inside his car. My anger trickles away after a minute, though, being replaced again by hurt feelings. I feel hideous. It’s the worst time for me to dwell on the fact that Owen still hasn’t called, which is the cherry on top of Jay’s rejection cake. Seriously, what the hell is wrong with me that men just don’t seem to want me?

Maybe I’m just too boring? Okay, self-pity, I’m going to say good night.

Soon Jay returns, sliding into the driver’s seat and throwing the packed-up duffel bag in the back. He doesn’t say a word.

I hate him not talking to me even more than I hate him not wanting me.

Liquid leaks from my eyes, unable to hold back anymore. I dab at the tears with my sleeve and try not to sniffle, not wanting Jay to know I’m crying. In the end it doesn’t matter, because he looks at me through the overhead mirror and lets out a gruff breath.

“Darlin’, don’t cry.”

Now I do sniffle. “Don’t call me darlin’. I’m not your darlin’. I’m your friend.” I put as much animosity into the word as I can muster.

A tiny smile shapes his lips, and I feel like smacking him for it. “Really? It doesn’t sound like you’re my friend. It sounds like you hate my guts.”

I make eye contact with him, and everything inside me deflates. It’s my own fault for thinking there was something big between us. I’ve just never met anyone like him before; he got under my skin so quickly. I think he might have ruined me for all other men already. How sad is that?

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“Nothing to be sorry about, Watson,” he says, turning the steering wheel as he rounds a corner.

“There is. I shouldn’t have thrown a tantrum. I just — I really like you, and you hurt my feelings. I’ll get over it. I’m your friend.” I pause and add, “I promise to be your friend.” Because even though he’s made me feel like ****, I sense something desperate in him, some part of him that needs me as his friend more than anything, even if we have only been in each other’s lives a short time. It’s odd, but it feels like I’ve known him forever. He fit himself so perfectly into my and Dad’s lives, like he’d always been there.

The look he gives me is startling, equal parts self-loathing for himself and affection for me, but that can’t be right. It confuses me.

“Thank you, darlin’,” he says after a long stretch of silence. “I need a friend like you.”

Twenty

A couple of days go by. Dad returns from his golfing break looking refreshed, which makes me happy. There’s an atmosphere between Jay and me, though, and that doesn’t make me happy. I just feel so exposed with him now. It was fine before when I could go around all blasé and pretend like I had no interest in him, but now he knows I like him, and it’s just so mortifying. I feel like a little kid at school whose crush has been exposed.

I wish nothing had happened between us at all, because it’s even worse knowing what I’m missing.

I’m just waiting for the day when he brings a girl home. I’m not sure I’ll be able to handle it if he does. I overhear him telling Dad he’s organised a new place to live, but he won’t be able to move in for another fortnight. Air catches in my lungs. That’s all I have left. Two weeks, and he’ll be gone. I know I’ll see him around, but it just won’t be the same.

Most evenings he and Dad lock themselves away in Dad’s tiny home office, discussing the particulars of Jay’s case. Dad’s decided to take on most of the admin work himself, so that Will and I can focus on the rest of the firm’s cases. One good thing about all this is that it seems to have injected a whole new lease of life into Dad. It’s like he’s twenty years younger, a reflection of the man he was before Mum was stolen from us so violently.

And that’s why I’m grateful to Jay and so glad he walked into our lives, even if he has hurt me. I haven’t seen Dad so invigorated in a long time.

Towards the weekend I get a text from Jessie, which reads:

Hey, lady! I’m throwing myself a birthday party this weekend at my place and you’re invited. You can bring along your blonde friend, too P.S I’ve attached that list of dating sites I promised you. See you Saturday!

I smile to myself at the idea of her arranging her own birthday. Then I frown, knowing that Jay will be there. It will be a social setting, and I’m sure there will be girls throwing themselves at him, even if the majority of guests will probably be batting for the other team.

The idea makes me anxious. I really want to go, because I like Jessie. I want to stay friends with her. But I need to think of something that will make me less heartbroken if Jay does happen to bring a date, or start chatting women up when he’s there.

I scroll through the list of dating sites that Jessie sent, no real intention of joining any of them. I’m kind of disillusioned with my quest for romance right now. But still, it puts an idea in my head. If I bring my own date, then it will show Jay that I’ve moved on. That his rejection was nothing but a blip on my radar.

Even though Owen hasn’t tried to make contact with me, I decide to throw caution to the wind, sending him a quick text asking if he’d like to come to the party with me. I get a reply soon after.

Owen: Hi, Matilda! I’d love to go with you. I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch. It’s not because I didn’t want to, I just wasn’t sure if you liked me. But I’m really happy you’ve decided to touch base. Looking forward to the party.

His response stirs a pang of guilt in my chest, because I’m essentially using him. But I do like him; I’m just not sure how much. He’s a nice guy with a good personality, and that’s not a bad start.

On Saturday afternoon, Michelle comes over to get ready for the party at my house. She’s been extremely enthusiastic about seeing Jessie again, which makes me want more details about what happened between them. So I ask her.

“Let’s just say, the woman knows what she’s doing, and I’m talking downtown,” she replies in a saucy voice.

I burst into laughter. “Did you just quote The Simpsons?”

She shrugs, smiling. “Maybe.”

“So, is this a new era in the love life of Michelle Malone? No more men, just women.”

“No more meat, just fish.” Michelle chuckles. “No way, Matilda. Jessie might as well be a fella, you know what I mean? I like men, and sometimes girls who act like men. Keeps things interesting. It’s no big deal.”

“I guess not.”

There’s a knock at the door, followed by Jay asking, “Can I come in? Are you ladies decent, indecent? I hope it’s the latter.”

“My mind is indecent, if that counts,” says Michelle.

Hearing his voice makes me jump. “Come in,” I reply, wondering what he wants.

He ducks his head in the door. “You two heading to Jessie’s party?” he asks.

His eyes sweep over me, and his posture immediately stiffens. I wonder if it’s because of the dress I’m wearing. It’s red with a sweetheart neckline that frames my cl**vage; the rest of it hugs every curve of my body. It feels like he’s trying not to look at me even though he’s addressing me, which inadvertently feels like a triumph on my part. Take that, rejection. I can look amazing, and I don’t care if he doesn’t want me for me. I know that he likes my body, which is probably why the little fumbles we had happened in the first place.

“Yeah,” I answer, trying to sound just as standoffish as he does.

“Want a ride there?”

“We’d love one,” Michelle purrs. Jay nods and leaves just as quickly as he came.

“You should have said no. I told Owen we’d pick him up in a taxi. Now I’m going to have to get Jay to bring us to pick him up.”

Michelle eyes me. “And why would that be a problem?”

I scratch at my arm. “It just is.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake. Can you please just tell me what’s going on with you two? I don’t understand why you’re being so tight-lipped. We usually tell each other everything.”

I sigh. “That’s usually because I don’t have anything to tell.”

“But you do now, so spill.”

I look at her for a second, feeling bad for keeping secrets, and then finally I give in. I tell her everything from start to finish. By the time I get to the part where Jay told me he just wanted to be friends in the park, Michelle is jumping up from her seat by my dressing...

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“This place is amazing,” I say to Jay as he stands beside me. I’m all too aware of his hand softly touching my lower back. “How the hell can she afford this working in a casino?”

“She plays poker on and off. She does even better than I do most of the time. The winnings helped her to buy this place. There was a time when Jessie didn’t have a home. Her family cast her out, so owning somewhere that’s hers is a big deal.”

“Oh,” I say, taken aback by his candour while imagining what Jay looks like playing poker. Not sure why I find the image appealing, but I do. “You didn’t have a home at one time, either. Is it a big deal for you, too?”

His gaze is meaningful. “More important than anything. But home for me isn’t about a roof and four walls — it’s about people. My real family is dead, so I’ve got to make my own.”

The way he says it makes something catch in my throat. Has he made his own yet? A strange feeling takes hold in my gut, because more than anything I’d like to be a part of that family, even if it is just as a friend.

Our moment is broken when Jessie comes up to us wearing her usual jeans and baggy T-shirt, with the ad***ion of a party hat and a big birthday badge that reads 94.

“Happy birthday, Jess,” says Jay, handing her the present he brought and giving her a tight hug.

“Yeah,” I add, giving her my card and grinning. “Happy birthday. I had no idea you were so old.”

“The surgeons can work wonders these days,” she replies with a wink, looking between the two of us. “Glad you both are on speaking terms again.” She gives Jay a pat on the shoulder and then goes to greet more guests who have just arrived.

I turn to him. “You told her what happened?”

He ****s his eyebrow and gives me a challenging stare. “Like you didn’t tell Michelle.”

I’m not sure why, but I find his expression rather attractive, even if he is being argumentative. It’s kind of…sardonic and ***y.

I don’t say anything for a second, then grumble, “Fine.” I walk away from him, over to the window to join Michelle and Owen, who are getting along quite well. We all get some drinks and go to sit out on the balcony, which is huge and goes around the entire corner of the building. I have to admire Jessie for being so determined to have a place she can call her own.

When I was little, before Mum died, we used to live in a wonderful old house on a patch of land just outside the city. It was where my mother grew up, and there was so much love put into it. I like our house now just fine, but there was something about that old place. It was special. Close to the life of the city but with the tranquillity of the countryside.

It was home.

It was the happiest place on earth until all the bad luck came. It felt like all of a sudden a dark cloud had descended, blocking out the sun. We used to have these neighbours; they had two sons who I played with almost every day. One was my age and the other a little older. I can hardly remember what those two boys looked like anymore; they’re just a hazy memory. I was only a kid, but my latest obsession had been motherhood, so I used to pretend they were my babies and I’d take care of them, making them food and giving them toys to play with.

I was a little weird.

Anyway, long story short. Their house caught fire one night, and the family didn’t survive; only the older boy did. Then he went away, probably to live with relatives or a foster family. It was so long ago that I can’t remember.

After that the dark cloud moved to our house. The burglars broke in and killed Mum, beat up Dad, and gave me a scar I’d never get rid of. Soon after, Dad sold the house. It’s not even there anymore. Now there’s a swanky five-star hotel where my dream home used to be.

Somebody touches my hand. “Matilda, are you okay?” Owen asks, concerned.

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Just having a little daydream.”

He smiles, his eyes interested. “Really? What about?”

I suddenly realise he thinks I was daydreaming about him. Hmm, how to answer? “Nothing much, just memories.”

We’re interrupted by loud clapping, and I look inside the apartment to see Jay surrounded by party guests as he performs his complicated card tricks. He’s like a light, always attracting people to him. He gives them a bow and goes to grab a beer. Somehow his eyes meet mine and lock before focusing in on Owen’s hand on my hand. He swallows some beer. I look away.

Michelle has caught the attention of a twenty-something blond guy. She’s sitting on Jessie’s deck furniture and flirting with him. I nod to Owen, and he follows me over to join them, sitting close beside me. A minute later, I can practically sense Jay’s presence as he steps out onto the balcony, taking the seat directly in front of me.

Michelle laughs loudly at something the blond guy says, and I’m glad for the sound. It covers up the tension of Jay’s silence. What the hell is his problem?

“Hey, I saw you doing card tricks in there,” says Owen to Jay. “Is that a hobby of yours?”

Jay cuts his eyes to him, no expression on his face. “Nah, not a hobby. It’s my living.”

“Oh, wow, really. That’s great. Do you get much work out of it?”

Jay rolls his shoulders. “A bit.”

Owen finally seems to catch on to the fact that Jay doesn’t want to talk him, so he turns his attention back to me. “You know, Matilda, I really love your dress. Did I tell you how amazing you look tonight?”

Jay throws his eyes to the heavens, shakes his head, and knocks back a slug of beer.

“Thank you. I made it myself, actually,” I reply quietly.

“Really? I’m impressed. You know, I was so happy that you wanted to see me again. I was beginning to lose hope.”

Jay lets out a long, exaggerated sigh before muttering under his breath, “You could have called her.”

My eyes cut to him. “What was that?”

He gives me an innocent look. “Nothing. Did I say something?”

“Yeah,” I snap. “I think you did.”

“Well, I think you’re mistaken.” His eyes gleam, like he’s enjoying my reaction, like he’s goading me.

I decide to ignore him, focusing my attention on Owen. He’s looking between Jay and me, seeming confused by our sniping. I try to make conversation with him, get to know him more, but Jay sits there the entire time, making various noises to ruin the atmosphere. When Owen tells me he likes to play tennis, Jay snorts. When he expresses an interest in the history of the ancient Greeks, Jay starts chuckling quietly to himself.

In the end I get so annoyed with him that I jump up from my seat, the metal squealing against the floor. He’s being completely rude, and I can tell that Owen is upset but is trying not to show it.

“You’re…you’re being a dickhead,” I burst out before grabbing Owen’s hand and leading him away with me. Jay’s expression at my outburst isn’t shock or guilt; it’s satisfaction. He wanted me to get mad. Stopping when we get around a corner that leads from the main section of the apartment to the bedrooms, I put a hand on Owen’s shoulder and apologise profusely.

“I’m so sorry about him. I think he might be drunk.” Jay isn’t drunk in the slightest, but it’s the only excuse I can come up with for his terrible behaviour. Owen’s cheeks are red with embarrassment.

“It’s okay. I think I might call it a night anyway,” he says. “I’ve got work in the morning.”

“You don’t have to leave.”

“Nah, I should go. I’ll call you. We’ll do something else soon. Just the two of us.”

I smile at him. “Yeah, okay. I’d like that.” My smile is half-hearted, though, because I have a feeling Owen isn’t going to be calling any time in the near or distant future. Jay made sure of that.

He leans down and gives me a reluctant peck on the cheek, then a quick hug before leaving. I stand there, trying to tamp down my fury. I have a good mind to march right back out to Jay and give him what for. In fact, I think that’s what I will do.

Striding through the apartment and back out onto the balcony, I find Jay in the same spot I left him in. He’s lounging back in his chair, nursing his beer and smoking a cigarette. I stop a foot or two in front of him and fold my arms, my eyes narrowed to slits.

“The douche chef gone already?” he asks with a big grin, leisurely blowing out smoke. I want to smack the expression right off his stupid handsome face.

“Yeah, no thanks to you. What the hell were you playing at? You were so…so mean. It’s not like you at all.”

Another swallow of beer and a shrug. His lack of a response infuriates me.

“You hurt his feelings, and he was nothing but nice to you. I don’t like this side of you, Jay. What’s gotten into you?”

He looks away, gracing me with his gorgeous profile. God, does he have to be so attractive? It doesn’t help my situation...

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Jay smiles at him, showing teeth. “That’s what they tell me.”

My brain can’t comprehend why that just happened, and my cheeks are flaming red. Did Jay think I was letting myself down by allowing Stuart to essentially maul me while we danced?

I turn on my heel and hurry away, finding myself back in the hallway that leads to the bedrooms. Needing a moment alone, I open the door to one of them and step inside. It’s mostly empty, with just a bed and a few sparse bits of furniture. It must be Jessie’s spare room. Letting out a sigh, I flop down onto the bed and cover my face with my hands.

This entire night has been a huge disaster.

I take deep breaths, trying to calm down and push away my embarrassment. A familiar scent hits me when I turn my face into the bed sheets. They smell like Jay. He must have spent the night here at some point, and that’s why they smell of him. Trust me to pick this room of all rooms to seek refuge in. I want to get him out of my head, but somehow he keeps worming his way back in without even having to try.

Minutes tick by, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t enjoying myself a little too much. Secretly relishing Jay’s scent, remembering what it felt like to sleep in the same bed as him, his big arms wrapped around me. God, I’m so ridiculous.

I cover my face with my hands again just as I hear the door to the room open and shut so quietly I almost miss it. Something inside me knows that it’s him, a sixth sense alerting me to his presence.

Slowly, I remove my hands from my face, my heart jumping a little when I see he’s standing over me right at the foot of the bed, a torn look on his face. The top half of my body is lying flat, while my legs dangle off the edge.

“I don’t want to see you right now,” I practically whisper, my eyes becoming watery.

His head tilts to the side, his gaze trailing hotly down my body before returning to my face. “Why not?”

I sit up quickly, gesticulating furiously. “You just punched Stuart for no reason! What the hell was that about? Do you have anger-management issues?”

His jaw ticks. Yeah, I’m definitely starting to recognise that as a sign he’s not happy. “Oh, it’s ‘Stuart,’ is it? Your date just left, and you’ve already moved on to someone else? That’s real classy, Watson.”

“Are you serious? I’m the classless one? You started all this with your snide behaviour toward Owen, so let’s not pretend this is my fault.”

“I told you I don’t like him. And I don’t like that Stuart guy, either. You need to be more selective about who you let put their hands all over you.”

His words make me jump up from the bed. It seems *****rprise him, because he steps back a little. I march toward him, glaring up at him and pointing my finger hard into his chest.

“You shouldn’t care about that, Jason! You only want me to be your friend, remember?”

Swiftly, he grabs the finger I just pointed at him, holding it to his chest. The warmth of his hand makes some of my anger dissipate. A quick breath escapes me. Now he starts to move forward with purpose, backing me up against the wall on the other side of the room.

“I care,” he says harshly, voice low, threatening, almost. It’s confusing that such a voice can still give me chills all down my spine. Good ones. “Friends care about their friends.”

Something inside of me deflates. “That’s all it is? A friend looking out for another friend?” I ask, needing him to say no, praying that he doesn’t say yes.

“Yes,” he murmurs, then swears under his breath. “No. ****. I didn’t think this would be so difficult.”

“What?”

He doesn’t tell me, just keeps staring intensely into my eyes until I think I might melt into a puddle on the floor. “I don’t want you to date Owen.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want you dancing with f**ks like Stuart, either.”

I lick my lips, and his gaze zones in on the movement. His body is pressed right up against mine, and I can feel his thick length harden against my thigh. His arousal turns me on. Fizzy bubbles pop in my belly.

“Why?” I ask again, whispering now.

His hands, which are braced against the wall on either side of my head, slam down into the plaster with frustration. My entire body jumps, and my lip quivers.

He leans his face in agonisingly slowly, then tells me in a gravelly, possessive, stomach-flipping voice, “Because you’re mine.”

I gasp.

His lips descend on my lips, hard and frenzied, and I can feel every ounce of his passion. I moan into the kiss, his tongue sliding into my mouth with intent, caressing mine, claiming me. His hands cup either side of my face, his thumbs brushing the hollow of my throat, tantalising my nerve endings and making me feel it all the way down between my thighs.

I’m not entirely sure of what’s happening, but I’m incapable of proper thought. My body is in charge now, my brain instantly forgetting the events that brought us here, to this moment. And really, I don’t care. I want him more than caution would deem wise.

I’m so taken aback by his kiss that I press my palms flat against the wall behind me, too afraid to touch him. Frightened that touching him will make me wake up from the dream of him telling me that I’m his.

I once read that people who have imaginary friends never reach out to touch them. There’s some part of their brain that subconsciously knows it will break the spell. That’s what it feels like with Jay. He entrances me in a way that makes me feel like he must not be real. Someone so incredible could only be a figment of my imagination.

But he isn’t.

His erection grinding hard into my thigh is evidence of that.

Bravely, I grip his shoulders, breaking past the barrier. I could stay in this kiss forever. Stay in this room where there’s only the sensation of our battling tongues and the noise of our frantic, heavy breathing.

He plunders every inch of my mouth, nibbles on my lips, murmuring hot words, his voice reverent. His thumbs continue to stroke at my throat, so erotically I feel like I could come without him having to so much as venture any lower.

A harsh cry of pleasure rumbles out of me, and he moves his mouth down my chin to my throat to join his dexterous thumbs. He nuzzles and sucks and massages, and I feel like I’m going to burst.

“Christ, I need you,” he swears. “If you don’t stop me now, I’m going to f**k you, darlin’.”

He licks a line from my neck to my earlobe, taking it into his mouth and sucking, his tongue flickering.

“Jay.” I moan his name, and an appreciative groan rumbles up out of his chest. “Yes. Please.”

He growls with satisfaction as I urge him on.

His hand travels under the hem of my dress, sliding up my leg to my inner thigh. I whimper when he cups me right between the legs — hard. He moves his face down to my chest, whispering his lips over the crest of my cl**vage, pressing needy, feverish kisses to the tops of my br**sts.

His other hand cups my breast as his mouth returns to my lips, licking and nibbling. Locating my nipple, he bites it hard through the fabric, and I cry out. I’m completely breathless. Without warning he picks me up, my legs instinctively wrapping around his hips. He carries me to the bed and lays me down, then goes over to the door and turns the lock.

“Don’t want anyone interrupting us,” he says in a dangerously ***y voice.

I’m practically panting. He comes and settles himself between my thighs, his hands braced on the bed to hold himself over me.

“These sheets smell like you,” I say, unable to help myself.

My words seem *****rprise him. “You like that?”

I can only nod in reply.

“I used to live here, before Jessie decided she wanted her place to herself. This was my room.”

“Oh,” I breathe.

We lock eyes for a long time, and one of his hands goes to my mouth, fingers brushing tenderly at my bottom lip. One finger slips inside a little, and I suck gently. Jay swears.

“Those f**king lips. So soft. So perfect.”

My cheeks heat up

“I’ve never seen a more exquisite sight than you when you’re all turned on, darlin’. You know that?”

I avert my eyes, but he takes my chin in his hand, forcing me to look at him.

“You want me?” he asks, swallowing.

“Yes,” I answer, my voice barely audible.

My eyes flicker back and forth between his, my heart fluttering. When his hand travels from my mouth and back to my neck, he grips me, his big hand practically going all the way around to my nape. I turn completely boneless beneath him. As he bends down, his mouth meets mine again harshly. He claims me with his tongue. Our chests rise and fall with our rapid breathing. I break the kiss and nuzzle my nose below his ear, finally mustering up the courage to tell him what I want.

“Make love to me,” I whisper. Emotion catches in my throat. “I want you inside me.”

He pulls back to look me in the eye, and I’d swear he’s...

Six of Hearts
Six of Hearts Page 29



“Please don’t pull away from me again. I couldn’t take it,” I whisper, but I’m not sure if he hears me. He’s too lost now, moving in and out of me, pumping so hard it shakes the bed, his expression fierce. I feel myself tightening, building to something I’ve never felt before. Just as it hits me, the most intense orgasm I’ve ever felt, Jay’s movements start to slow.

“****, are you coming?” he rasps, staring down at me.

“Yes,” I breathe. “I think. I don’t know.”

“God. I can feel it. You are. Incredible.” He speaks in short, jagged sentences. The next thing I know, he’s coming, too, pouring himself into me. He kisses me long and deep, his chest falling into mine, his heavy weight surprisingly pleasant on top of me.

“That was…incredible,” he murmurs, all out of breath, his lips in my hair. His hand wanders down between my legs, finding my cl*t and rubbing slow, lazy circles. His come is all over me, but it doesn’t seem to bother him.

I laugh. “God, how are we ever going to clean ourselves up? We’re a mess. Everyone in the party is going to know.”

“So what? **** ’em.”

He rolls off me, his back hitting the mattress, and I snuggle into his side, tracing the lines of his tattoos, the six of hearts in particular.

“Tell me what this one means,” I whisper.

“Six hearts. The six people I care about most in the world,” he answers without hesitation, surprising me. I’d expected him to avoid revealing his secrets like he usually does. “Some of them aren’t in the world anymore, though,” he goes on sadly.

“Oh,” I breathe, wondering if I’m one of those six. I can’t be. He got the tattoo long before he ever knew who I was. The realisation saddens me. More than anything I’d like to be one of those six people.

“Can you have only six?” I ask.

He doesn’t say anything, just studies me. I hate it when he does this, because I don’t have the courage to ask again.

“You look sleepy. You’re gorgeous when you’re tired.”

“I am?”

“Yeah. So f**king gorgeous.” He leans down and kisses the side of my mouth, then pulls away. Getting up from the bed, he pulls on his jeans, commando style, then grabs his shirt.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m just going to get us some stuff to clean ourselves up with. Don’t worry. I’ll be back in a minute.”

He leaves, and I lie there, staring at the ceiling. I just had *** with Jay. My body knows it’s a fact, but my brain can’t work its way around the idea. I’ve never known *** could be like that. So intense you practically forget your own name.

The door opens, and I quickly pull the covers over me, startled. It’s just Jay, though, returning with a damp cloth.

“Come here.” He crooks his finger at me, and I crawl to where he’s perched himself on the edge of bed. His ***y eyes meet mine.

I let my thighs fall open, and he uses the cloth to clean me. My heart hammers at how he does it, so careful, so full of affection. It’s the weirdest thing, yet so completely heart-warming. While his attention is focused on my body, the alarming sensation of falling comes over me. It’s not exactly surprising. Jay is so easy to fall in love with, even if he can be difficult, like Jessie says.

I want to ask him why he called things off when he took me to the outdoor cinema, but I can’t. I’m too frightened of the answer he might give me. I want to stay in this moment, hearing his words over and over in my head and letting them be my truth.

Because you’re mine.

It might not be wise, but allowing myself to be his feels like everything I’ve ever wanted. I move to go in search of my clothes, but he stops me, getting them himself and dressing me. He slips on my knickers, then clips me into my bra.

“Decided to wear nothing but red tonight, huh?” he asks huskily, referring to my underwear set, which matches my dress.

“You like?”

A smirk, his eyes on the lace. “I do.”

“Good.”

“Was that the intention?”

“Perhaps.”

His grin makes me tremble. “Not that it doesn’t kill me to go back out to the party, but I’ve got to give Jessie her birthday cake. You want to help?”

“Sure,” I reply, standing and smoothing down my dress.

Later on, after we’ve presented Jessie with her cake and the party guests start to trickle out, I find Jessie and Michelle on the couch, Jessie whispering seductively into Michelle’s ear. I seriously would love to know what she’s saying right now. As soon as they see me approach, Jessie asks blatantly, “What in the f**k’s been happening with you and Jay?”

I stand a little straighter and tuck a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. “Nothing.”

Michelle giggles and wags her finger at me. “Your makeup is virtually non-existent, and you’re sporting a different hairdo than you were earlier. I’m thinking a lot more than ‘nothing’ happened, Matilda.”

“Okay, Mother.”

“Oh, she’s blushing,” says Jessie. “A blush like that only indicates one thing.”

“A good old-fashioned rogering,” says Michelle.

“Jay serviced your pipes,” Jessie adds.

I scrunch up my face. “Oh, God. Can you two please stop? I dislike both of those phrases. And I refuse to believe I have anything that resembles plumbing, thank you very much.”

“But you two did…you know,” says Jessie, forming a circle with her thumb and index finger and then inserting another finger through the hole.

“Okay, Danny Zuko. Thanks for that delightful visual interpretation,” I deadpan.

Both she and Michelle burst into laughter.

“What visual interpretation are we talking about?” Jay’s husky voice asks from behind as he tugs me down to sit on his lap. Okay, now it’s pretty obvious that there definitely was some plumbing being serviced. I wouldn’t be sitting on his lap if there wasn’t.

What? The plumbing image is stuck in my head now.

“The old finger through the hole,” Jessie explains once her laughter has died down. Seriously, I don’t think what I said was that funny. Perhaps it was the way I said it.

“Oh, you decided you’re not offended by the idea of sucking a c*ck anymore?” Jay asks, teasing her. I’m glad I’m no longer the one being teased.

“Eh, nooo,” Jessie exclaims. “And the hole is clearly a vagina, not a mouth.”

“This is the conversation we’re having, really? I must have forgotten we’re all thirteen-year-old boys now,” I say, talking mostly to myself.

Jay’s hand massages my hip as he pulls me in closer to his body. He kisses my temple, then asks, “You want to get out of here?”

“And go where?”

“Home.”

“Dad’s at home.”

“We’ll be quiet.”

I c*ck an eyebrow at him. He chuckles. “Okay, well, I do have a pretty f**king awesome car.”

A laugh sputters out of me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know.”

His hand is on my neck, his thumb massaging my throat again. Seriously, it’s probably the most erotic thing he could do to me in public without being obscene. My eyes flutter closed, and a heavy breath escapes me, my head falling to the side to rest on his shoulder.

“I’m kind of tired,” I say. “You should probably just take me home.”

His voice is tender when he replies, “Okay, darlin’, I’ll take you home.”

Helping me to stand, we say our goodbyes and then take the elevator back down to the lobby. When I’m settled in the passenger seat of his car, I promptly fall asleep.

A little bit later I wake up. The car has been pulled into the side of the road, and Jay’s outside, pacing and talking to someone over the phone. I look around. The only light is coming from the headlights of the car. Where are we that there are no streetlights at all? Nowhere on the route home, that’s for certain. I must be dreaming. And with that thought, I fall back asleep.

Twenty-Two

I don’t wake up until just before midday the following morning, in my own bed and stripped down to my underwear. I smile at the visual of Jay carrying me from his car up to my room and then pleasing himself by removing my dress. After my long hours of sleep, I feel rested. I’m a little disappointed that Jay didn’t stay with me, but that’s probably just because Dad’s home.

I’m not sure how I’m going to broach the subject of being with Jay to Dad, but it’s early days yet. Perhaps we can spend a little while longer just enjoying the newness of it before we have to make any decisions about what exactly is going on between us.

I get up and hop into the shower, wondering how I’m going to handle it when Jay moves out in a week’s time. I won’t have any more...

Six of Hearts
Six of Hearts Page 30



“Last night I was a being a jealous f**k, and I had to stake my claim. I don’t date, but I will with you. You’re the exception.” He bounces me a little in his lap, and I giggle.

“Then I agree to your proposal, Jason,” I announce, holding out my hand to him. We shake on it.

He squeezes my h*ps and pulls me astride him. “Yeah, ya do.”

We kiss, and it’s real slow, his tongue sliding along mine, making me think wholly inappropriate thoughts for the hour of the day. I practically leap from his lap and to the other side of the room when I hear Dad come out of his home office and walk toward the staircase. I end up over by a shelf housing Jay’s music collection as Dad calls “hello” to him and continues his way downstairs, none the wiser about his daughter hiding within and her slatternly ways. Yeah, I’m bringing back the word “slattern.” Deal with it.

“Not ready to tell your old man about me yet, huh?” Jay asks, smirking.

Blushing, I shake my head and turn my attention to his CDs to try to distract myself from that kiss and how it sent my hormones into overdrive. I smile, noticing that he practically owns Eminem’s entire back catalogue. We have something in common. Jay must have gone through a rap phase, too.

“You like Eminem,” I say as he comes over and sits behind me, pulling me between his legs.

“I was an angry young man in the year 2000. Of course I liked Eminem,” he says. “Still do. The man’s a genius.”

“I agree. I used to buy his albums and listen to them in secret because Dad never let me buy anything with a parental warning sticker. What’s your favourite song?”

He makes a little humming sound in the back of his throat as he thinks about it, his hand brushing my inner thigh. His breath whispers across my nape, giving me tingles, and then he starts to sing the chorus to “Hailie’s Song” in a gorgeously low, husky voice.

Oh, God.

If I thought that kiss sent my hormones into overdrive, it has nothing on what Jay’s singing is doing to me. There’s something so incredibly appealing about his tone. My heart practically stops beating.

He sings about feeling like the weight of the world is on his shoulders, and it steals a little piece of my heart. When he’s done, he kisses my neck, and I let out a heavy breath.

“That’s the one about his daughter, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. It’s my favourite. Kind of reminds me of you, actually.”

“It does?” I ask. He has paternal feelings towards me? “That’s, um, okay.”

“The sentiment, Matilda, the sentiment. When I look at you, my head clears. Most times there’s a storm up in this brain of mine, but then you walk into a room and I can focus.”

“Jay,” I breathe.

“What?”

“Make love to me again.”

He chuckles. “Your dad’s right downstairs.”

“I know, but…God, you can’t say stuff like that to me when Dad’s home. Please make a note for future reference.”

He salutes me. “Noted.”

“I should go.”

“Why?”

“Because I still want you to make love to me. And Dad’s downstairs.”

He growls and pinches my bottom when I move to stand up. “Go on, then, Watson. Leave before you ravish me like the ***y bitch that I am. Are we still on for our sewing date tonight?”

“You mean are we on for you lounging on your chaise longue and watching me while I make dresses? Very weird, might I add, but sure. We’re on.”

His laughter follows me out the door.

***

That night in bed, I toss and turn. After spending two ***ually frustrated hours in Jay’s company while I worked on my dress designs and he gave me heated looks, I’m not exactly feeling ready for sleep. I’m ready for other things that involve a bed, though. And that’s the problem.

I agreed with him to take things slow. Does that mean no more ***?

A floorboard creaks outside my room and the door opens, revealing Jay in a T-shirt and sleep pants. Without a word he crawls into bed beside me, grabbing me by the h*ps and pulling me into him, my back flush with his front.

“Couldn’t sleep?” I ask softly as he presses a kiss to my neck.

“Nope. I will now, though,” he replies, and snuggles into me. It takes a couple of minutes for his breathing to even out and for him to fall asleep. I follow soon after.

***

The next day at the office, upon Dad’s request, I’m working on transcribing his notes from his interviews with Jay. I’m finding it all very intriguing, but something niggles at me. It looks fine on paper, but I have this weird feeling that there are blank spots, pieces of the story that have been intentionally left out.

My suspicions are instantly forgotten when I get an unexpected visitor. We don’t have any appointments until after lunch, so I glance up to see who just entered the reception area. My anxiety elevates when I recognise who it is.

Una Harris saunters in wearing fire-engine-red high heels, matching lipstick, and a tight grey shift dress, a designer handbag dangling from her arm. If I didn’t dislike her so much, I might give her a compliment for looking so hot for a woman who must be well past her prime. It’s kind of difficult to determine her true age, due to the amount of Botox she’s sporting.

I clear my throat. “Can I help you?”

She pulls off her Gucci sunglasses and levels her green eyes on me, studying me for a long time. Then quite randomly she gestures to my neck, the side that’s scarred. “I know an excellent doctor who could fix that right up. Would you like his number?” she asks casually, eyes moving to scan the room.

I rub my neck self-consciously. “Um, thanks, but that’s okay. Do you have an appointment?” I know she doesn’t have an appointment. Of course she doesn’t. I just can’t think of anything else to say.

“I don’t. This is just a flying visit. I was rather upset to arrive at work this morning and be told by my boss that we’re being sued because of a few articles I wrote. I wanted to come and check out what we’re up against. Now that I’m here, it’s laughable, really. I mean, does Jay Fields actually think he can win this thing with representation from a shoddy two-bit firm like this one?”

I stare at her, open-mouthed.

“I was actually worried for a second. Now I see this is all just a pathetic joke.”

Getting up from my seat, I put a hand on my hip. “Are you for real?”

She purses her lips and moves her catty eyes back to me. “I’m always for real, my dear. Don’t take offence. I’m sure this is hardly your dream job.” She laughs, the sound grating on my nerves.

“This is my dad’s practice,” I tell her, jaw tight.

Her eyes widen, and a little smirk forms. “Oops. In that case, no offence.”

“Too late for that. If you only came here to look down your nose at us, then you should leave.”

“That’s not why I came here. I wanted to speak to, well, to your father. Ask him if he knows what kind of man he’s representing.”

“A better man than whatever kind of woman you are, I’m sure.”

Her tittering laugh makes me clench my fist, and I’ve never been a fist-clencher. I’ve hardly got a violent bone in my body. It’s funny, the things Una Harris’ mocking laughter can bring out of people.

“Oh, dear, do you have a little crush on him? I get it, really, I do. Jay Fields is *** on a stick, but he’s also a dangerous man with a God complex. Have you ever read any of his fan websites? They all think what he does is real or some other such nonsense, and that’s not a good thing for someone with as big a following as he has. Don’t you remember the People’s Temple and Jim Jones? Oh, you’re so young, so probably not.”

“I know who Jim Jones is.”

She glances at her well-manicured nails. “Well, then, you’ll also know how precarious Jay’s influence is on all those young people who follow him. I’m sure that if he told them to jump off a cliff, they’d all do it.”

Jesus, this woman is deluded. “He’s a performer. He’s not trying to start up his own religion.”

“Yeah, and the only one who’s been drinking Kool-Aid around here is you, Una. Your own. What in the f**k do you think you’re doing?” asks Jay, stalking angrily into the office. There’s something in his gait that puts me in mind of a panther that’s about to attack.

“Why, Mr Fields, what a pleasant surprise,” she purrs, and struts over to him, running a long, sharp fingernail down the front of his shirt. His eyes are stormy when he takes a measured step back, recoiling from her touch.

“Get. Out,” he fumes. “You have no business being here.”

“I was just having a little chitchat with the lovely receptionist. You know how it is with us girls — we love to gossip.” Her emerging smile denotes how pleased...