London from My Windows (9 page)

CHAPTER 9

Approximately twenty minutes after Jasper left, Ava stuck one foot out into the hall, and braced herself in the doorway as if she were in danger of an invisible force shoving her out of the flat. She wouldn't be able to relax until she knew she was alone. Even if he did have really nice blue eyes, and was tall. She'd learned a lesson from Cliff. No more short men with tall egos. Jasper also had the kind of laugh that made you happy just listening to it. Was he telling the truth about all that stand-up comedian stuff? It still didn't make things right, but she could hardly fault him for practicing his craft, and trying to have a laugh at the same time. The girl who told a police officer she was in witness protection really shouldn't judge.

The suitcases sat by the door. Ava kicked Diana's, then knelt down and opened it. Folded in neat little piles on top were black turtlenecks. “Unbelievable.” So Diana had meant to come. What happened? Was Diana afraid of flying?
The hypocrite.
Ava didn't want to dig around anymore. It wasn't her suitcase. She zipped it back up and went to pick hers up instead. The second she grabbed the handle, someone called her name. “Ava.” Ava jumped and let out a little shriek.

“So sorry,” Jasper called out from behind the door. “I didn't mean to startle you.”

“Why are you lurking outside my door?” Ava asked.

“I'm not lurking. I had made it halfway down the block when I turned around.”

One minute Ava was daydreaming about his eyes and height, and the next she was being rude. It wasn't her fault. She needed space to process this. She wasn't used to talking to strangers for long periods of time. She wasn't used to talking to anyone for long periods of time. What was it going to take to get him to leave? “You shouldn't have turned around.” He didn't answer. She could hear him breathing. Did he run back up the stairs? Did he forget something? “Why did you turn around?”

“There are some things you need to know.”

There were probably a lot of things she needed to know. Like how to get rid of strangers at the door. What did she need to know? She'd been through an ordeal. She needed a bathroom, a bedroom, and water, so she could take her Xanax. She was sorted. She didn't want anything else today. “You can tell me another time.”

“I can't.”

“Why not?”

“Because if he comes home before I have the chance to tell you about him, you're liable to stab him in the neck with a fork.”

He? He who? What home?
“Stab who in the neck with a fork?”

“Your flatmate.” His voice took a forced upbeat tone.

“My flatmate? I don't have a flatmate.” If he was trying to scare her, it was working. Why was he trying to scare her?

“Right. I'll start with that, so. You have a flatmate.” By “flatmate” was he trying to tell her that she had a mouse? Or a cat? She didn't quite get the British sense of humor. She looked right, toward the living room. Across from it was the kitchen. Was there any evidence anywhere that somebody else lived here? Ava hurried into the kitchen. “Ava?” Jasper called. “Did you hear what I said?”

“I heard!” Ava yelled. “I just don't understand.”

It was not a modern kitchen by any means, but it was neat. The cabinets were white, and the floor was made of dark blue tiles. The appliances were older, also white, but as long as they were functioning, Ava could live with them. She even had a combo washer and dryer in the kitchen. That was a bit odd, but hey, maybe she could throw cups and saucers in with her panties and save loads of time. At the far end of the kitchen was a small set of table and chairs situated by more dome-shaped windows. She scanned the floor for cat food or mice droppings. Nada. She opened the fridge. It was packed. The day before Thanksgiving packed. In fact, a large turkey covered in cellophane took up the middle rack. Either someone had stocked the fridge for her arrival or she indeed had a flatmate.

A flatmate. No. No, no, no, no, no.
The kind who walked on two legs? She couldn't do it. She wouldn't do it. This was her flat. Hers. She walked over to the front door and pressed her ear against it.

“Still there?” Ava asked.

“Still here.”

“Say that again.”

“Still here.”

Jasper laughed. Ava bit her lip. He wasn't going to make her laugh. Not until he explained himself. “I meant the bit about having a flatmate.”

“Why don't you let me in?”

“I can hear you just fine through the door.”

“It is absurd to conduct business through a closed door.”

“How could I have a flatmate?”

“Let me in and I'll explain everything.”

“This is the second time you've lied to me. Why should I believe anything you say now?”

Jasper sighed. “I didn't mean to lie. Haven't you ever gotten carried away?” Ava thought of herself hiding underneath the desk at the police station, hiding in a closet in Heathrow, and, of course, her stunt a few minutes ago involving a nonexistent earring and the dusty underside of Aunt Beverly's bed.

“Fine.” Ava unlocked the door. Jasper looked guilty. Tortured, actually.
Good. He should be.
“Explain.”

Jasper stepped in. He filled the room. She never knew a person could give off energy that you could actually feel. Ava
felt
him. He was way too familiar. Why? Was she just grasping on to anyone who knew and loved Aunt Beverly? Was she delusional? This man was a total stranger. Cliff definitely had a presence, an animal attractiveness. But Jasper's effect on her wasn't just sexual. Standing this close to him, she had visions of throwing herself in his arms, and trusting him to take care of her the rest of her life.
Whoa. Where did that come from?
Ava had never wanted anybody to take care of her. Not even herself. This was a new feeling and she didn't like it. She certainly didn't know how to handle it.

“Living room or kitchen?” Jasper asked.

“For what?” She didn't care what he said. She was not going to tolerate a flatmate.

Jasper met her eyes.
Anything. Name it
. “For our talk.”

“Right. I refuse to have a flatmate. How's that for a talk?” Ava headed for the kitchen. “I'm starving.”

“Why don't we get some takeaway? There are menus in the drawer.”

“But there's a fridge full of food.”

“It belongs to Queenie.”

“Who?”

“Queenie. Your flatmate.”

“I don't have a flatmate. If someone's been living here, she'll have to leave.”

“He.”

He? Oh, no. No, no, no. This isn't happening.
“I don't care.”

“His name is Queenie. He's an actor. And a drag queen. He was Beverly's best friend.”

“I see your mouth moving, but you're not making sense. You said Beverly left the flat to me.” Jasper looked sheepish. “Hello?”

Instead of confessing this was all just another joke, Jasper headed into the kitchen and opened a drawer. He lifted out a stack of menus and tossed them on the counter. “Takeaway menus,” he said. “Anything you'd like. I would have cooked for you, but this isn't my flat and—”

“It's a one-bedroom apartment. How can I share a one-bedroom apartment?”
Don't get worked up. Don't fall for another joke. Of course you don't have a flatmate. Don't take the bait.
Her nerves were tingling. If he said the word “flatmate” one more time the colored dots were going to appear.

“Queenie will take the sofa.”

“No. He won't. There is no Queenie. You're just messing with me.”

“Let's start over,” Jasper said.

“Too late,” Ava said.

“Welcome to London.” Jasper bowed. He straightened up. “I promise, everything will get sorted. You mustn't worry.”

“I mustn't worry,” Ava repeated. The words sounded so funny, so foreign, even though they were both technically speaking English. This was so absurd. He was putting her on. And she was eating it up. She was jet-lagged. And starving. She started to laugh.

“What's so funny?” Jasper was keen to delve into anything that made her laugh. Perhaps he
was
studying to be a comedian.

“I've never used the word ‘mustn't' in my life,” Ava mused.

“Oh, you should try it. It feels good. Mustn't.” Jasper walked toward her. She was still leaning against the kitchen counter. Before she knew it, he was right in front of her. “Mustn't,” he repeated, lifting up his chin.

“You're insane.”

“Say it.”

“Mustn't.”

“Mustn't.” He imitated an American accent. “I mustn't go to Mickey D's.” She laughed. He
was
a bit funny and his eyes lit up when she laughed. “I mustn't, like, hang ten.” He tried to sound like an American surfer.

“You're an idiot,” she said, still laughing. “Is that what you think of us? We eat hamburgers and we surf? Is that all?”

“I mustn't watch
So You Think You Can Dance
.” He broke out in a frenetic imitation of a dance.

Ava laughed harder than she had in a long time. It felt good. And strangely, it hurt too. “Mustn't,” she said.

“Just tilt your chin up a bit.” He reached over and touched her chin to tilt it up. Ava felt a shock run through her. Here she was a stranger in a strange kitchen with a strange man, touching her. And it didn't feel strange at all.
Strange.

“There you are. Now say it. ‘Mustn't.' ”

“Mustn't.”

“Brilliant.”

“I mustn't drink tea, eat biscuits with jam, and watch telly.” What was she doing? Flirting? Was this an unwelcome side effect of the Xanax?

“By George, I think you've got it.” He was still touching her chin. She didn't realize it until right that moment. And then he realized that she realized it, and their eyes locked as electricity passed between them. His touch seemed to reach all the way inside her. She knew it sounded completely insane, but it was as if he was looking into her soul, and she into his. He dropped his hand.

Mustn't,
she said to herself.
Mustn't believe him when he says I have a flatmate. Mustn't, mustn't, mustn't
. Ava walked over to the counter, picked up a takeaway menu, and pretended to read.

“See anything you like?” Jasper said.

Ava couldn't focus on the words. Did she need glasses? Was it in a foreign language? “Not yet,” she said.

“It might help if you turned it right side up.”

Ava glanced up at him. He was smiling and there was literally a twinkle in his eye. She glanced at the menu. Oh, God. He was right. It was upside down. Xanax hangover. She was definitely having a Xanax hangover. Maybe she needed more. She also needed to be alone. She was getting flustered and it was all his fault. “I knew it was you. In the taxi.” She was going to start an argument. Anything to avoid these feelings she was having for a total stranger. She'd obviously been locked inside too long. What other explanation was there for the fact that she was wondering what would happen if she walked up to Jasper, grabbed him by the tie, and led him into the bedroom? She'd never desired a total stranger before; she'd never had a one-night stand; her lifestyle hadn't permitted any of this. Her first day in London and here she was very, very close to propositioning a man she had just met for sex. She didn't want Cliff to be the last man she'd had sex with. But Jasper wasn't just any man. Not some taxi driver she'd never have to see again. He was her aunt's friend. He was a barrister. Ava was seriously losing it.

“Come on now. You didn't know.”

“I knew your beard was fake.”

“I'll give you that. I thought you were going to tug on it and the jig would be up.” He smiled at her, and once again a jolt of electricity surged through her. They didn't call it chemistry for nothing. But Ava wasn't casual sex material. She wasn't exactly girlfriend material either.
Oh, God.
What material was she? Was there part of her that had suspected Cliff was involved with somebody else but didn't want to face it?
No. No.
She had no idea. None. But she also didn't question the limitations of their relationship. Because she had wanted him there. It was too much to think about right now.

“So, you're all right?” Jasper asked.

No, I'm not all right. I want to invite you into my dead aunt's bed. Does that sound all right to you?
“Of course I'm all right. Why wouldn't I be all right?” Was she flushed? Could he tell she was turned on? Why was he asking her that?

“I'm sure it's quite a shock to find out you have a flatmate.”

“Cut it out. You're not getting me again.”

“Pardon?”

“I know I don't have a flatmate. The jig is up.” Right? He had to be putting her on. Right? Why wasn't he just admitting it?

“I swear, this isn't a joke,” Jasper said.

Oh, God.
He sounded very, very serious. Ava lost her appetite. “I can't possibly share a one-bedroom flat with a stranger.” Who was she kidding? She couldn't share it with a stranger if it were a mansion.

“He won't be a stranger for long.” Jasper was trying to sound upbeat, but his voice cracked at the end. “Trust me. He's a decent bloke.”

“I don't care if he's the actual Queen. It's not going to happen.”

“I'm afraid you don't have any control over that.”