The Girl He'd Overlooked (7 page)

‘My computer’s back at my house,’ he said irritably, ‘and I won’t have you braving the snow to get it. I’ve done enough work for the day, anyway. I can afford to take a little time off.’

‘Your mother would be pleased to hear that. She thinks you work too hard.’

‘I thought you never talked about me with my mother.’

Jennifer shook her head when he grinned at her and stood up. ‘I’m going to go and fix us something to eat. Get changed when you feel your clothes are dry enough.’

‘What’s on the menu?’

‘Whatever appears on the plate in front of you.’ She left
to the sound of his rich chuckle and she sternly stifled the temptation to laugh as well.

Her head was full of him as she went about the business of turning a bottle of crushed tomatoes, some cream and some mushrooms into something halfway decent to have with some of the tagliatelle her father kept in abundant supply in the larder. James annoyed her and alarmed her the way no one else had ever been able to, but he also made her laugh when she didn’t want to and held her spellbound when she knew she shouldn’t be. So what did that say about the state of her defences? She had thought that by seeing him again, she would have finally discovered that his impact had been diminished. She had foolishly imagined that she would put her demons to rest. The very opposite had happened, and, although she hated the thought of that, she was practically humming under her breath as she prepared their meal.

When she thought about him lying on the sofa in the sitting room, a wonderful, excited and
thoroughly forbidden
heat began spreading through her and she couldn’t stop herself from liking it.

She took him his food on a tray and he waved her help aside as he struggled into a sitting position.

‘The painkillers are kicking in.’ He took a mouthful of food and then wondered where the wine was. Oh, and while she was about it, perhaps she could bring him some water as well.

Halfway through the meal, about which he was elaborately complimentary, he announced that he was now completely dry. He magnanimously informed her that there would be no need to wash his clothes, even though she hadn’t offered.

‘I have more than enough at home to get me through an enforced stay,’ he decided, and Jennifer frowned at him.

‘How long are you planning on staying?’ she asked, not bothering to hide the sarcasm, and then she looked at him narrowly when he shrugged and smiled.

‘How long is a piece of string?’

‘That’s no kind of answer, James.’

‘Well, weather wise, even if the snow stops in the next five minutes, which is highly unlikely, we won’t be leaving here for another couple of days. We both know that this is the last port of call for the snow ploughs. It’s too deep for either of us to drive through and, in my condition, I can’t do much about clearing it. That said, I don’t think it’s going to abate for at least another twenty-four hours, anyway. Longer if the weather forecast is to be believed.’

‘Well, you’re certainly the voice of doom,’ Jennifer said, removing his tray from him, putting it on top of hers and sitting back down because she was, frankly, exhausted, despite having had a very lazy day, all things considered.

‘I prefer to call it the voice of reality. Which brings me to point two. I can’t go back to my house. I’m going to need help getting back on my feet. I’m putting on a brave front, but I can barely move.’ She hadn’t exactly been the most welcoming of friends when she had discovered him in the cottage, but, hell, however hard she fought it, there was still something there between them. Friendship, attraction… he didn’t know. He just knew that the frisson between them did something for him. As did looking at her. As did hearing her laugh and seeing her smile and catching her slipping him sidelong looks when she didn’t think his attention was on her. He relished this enforced stay and, while his back was certainly not in a particularly good way, he silently thanked it for giving him the opportunity to get to the bottom of her.

Jennifer was torn as to whether to believe him or not. On the one hand, he had always claimed to have the constitution
of an ox. He was known to boast that he never fell prey to viruses and that his only contact with a doctor had been on the day of his birth. He surely wouldn’t lie when it came to admitting pain.

On the other hand, he didn’t look in the slightest regretful about his circumstances. In fact, for someone in the grip of back pain, he seemed remarkably breezy.

Breezy or not, she couldn’t send him hobbling back to his house although the thought of him in the cottage with her made her stomach tighten into knots of apprehension. Four years of hiding had been rewarded with such a concentrated dose of him that she was struggling to maintain the fiction that the effect he had on her was history. It wasn’t. Anything but.

‘So… as it stands, I’m going to have to fetch clothes for you for an enforced stay of indefinite duration, plus your laptop… plus I’m going to have to feed and water you…’

‘There’s no need to sound so thrilled at the prospect…’

‘This just isn’t what I banked on when I began this journey to the cottage.’

‘No,’ James said drily, ‘because you didn’t even expect to find me here.’

‘But I’m glad I did,’ she told him with grudging truthfulness. ‘Four years is a long time. I was in danger of forgetting what you looked like.’

‘And have I lived up to expectation?’

‘You look older than you are,’ Jennifer said snidely, because his ego was already big enough as it was.

‘That’s very kind of you.’ But he grinned. That boyish, sexy grin that had always been able to set her pulses racing. ‘Now you’re going to have to do me yet another favour, I’m afraid.’

‘You want coffee. Or tea. Or something else to drink. And you’d like something sweet to finish off the meal.
Maybe a home-made dessert of some kind. Am I along the right lines?’

‘Could I trust you to make me a home-made dessert?’ he asked lazily. ‘Don’t forget that my knowledge of your love of cooking goes back a long way…’ He held her eyes and Jennifer, skewered by the intensity of his gaze, half opened her mouth to say something and discovered that she had forgotten what she had been about to say. Colour slowly crawled into her face and, to break the suffocating tension, she stood up to get the two plates and carry them into the kitchen.

‘So tea or coffee, then,’ she said briskly. ‘Which is it to be? Dad has a million varieties of tea you could choose from. The larder seems to have had a massive overhaul ever since he decided to take up cooking. Apparently one brand of tea is no longer good enough.’

‘I need you to help me undress.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘I can’t manoeuvre to get the trousers off, even though the painkillers are beginning to kick in.’

Jennifer froze. For a few seconds all her vital functions seemed to shut down. When they re-engaged, she knew that, in the name of this friendship that they were tentatively rebuilding, she should think nothing of providing the help he needed. He had no qualms asking for it. He wasn’t going into meltdown at the thought of her touching him. She had loftily told him that he should see her as a friend rather than a woman, so what was he going to think if,
as a friend
, she told him that she couldn’t possibly…?

‘Have you tried?’

‘I don’t need to try. Every time I make the smallest movement, my back protests.’

Jennifer took a deep breath and walked towards him. What choice did she have?

James slung his arm over her shoulders, felt the softness of her skin underneath the jumper she was wearing, breathed in her clean fresh scent, the smell of the cold outdoors still lingering on her skin.

‘Well, thank goodness I’m not one of these five-foot-nothing girls you go out with,’ she managed to joke, although her vocal cords felt unnaturally dry and strained. ‘You would still be lying in the snow outside or else dragging yourself back to the house the best you could.’

‘Why do you make fun of yourself?’

‘I don’t.’ She helped him into a sitting position. His skin was clammy. Underneath the breezy façade, he was obviously in a great deal of discomfort, yet he had not taken it out on her. While she had been reluctantly catering to his demands and not bothering to hide the fact that she wasn’t overjoyed at having him under her roof, he had been suffering in silence. Shame and guilt washed over her.

‘You do. You’ve always done it.’ He had unbuttoned his shirt and he grimaced as she eased him out of it, down to the white tee shirt underneath. ‘I remember when you were sixteen laughing at yourself, telling me about the outfits your friends were wearing to go out, making fun of your height and—’

‘I can’t concentrate when you’re talking!’ She was red-faced and flustered because those were memories she didn’t want thrown at her.

‘You’re a sexy woman,’ he said roughly.

‘I’ll help you to your feet so that we can get the trousers off.’ He thought
she was a sexy woman.
Why did he have to say that? Why did he have to open a door in her head through which all sorts of unwanted thoughts could find their way in? He hadn’t thought she was
a sexy woman
four years ago, she reminded herself fiercely. Oh, no! Four years ago he had shoved her away!

She didn’t have to look at him as she began easing the trousers off. On their downward path, she was aware of black tight-fitting underwear, the length and strength of his legs, his muscled calves. She was in danger of passing out, and even more so when she heard his voice in her head telling her that she was a sexy woman.

Patric had never made her feel this way when he had told her that she was sexy. Hearing Patric tell her that she was sexy had made her want to giggle uncontrollably.

‘This is crazy,’ she said in a muffled voice, her face bright red as she sprang back to her feet and snatched the jogging bottoms she had earlier brought down.

‘Why is it crazy?’

‘Because you… you need a professional to help you. A qualified nurse! What if I do something wrong and you… you damage yourself?’ She was mesmerised by the sight of his legs, the dark hair on them, the rock hardness of his calves. She didn’t dare allow her eyes to travel farther up. Instead, she focused furiously on the jogging bottoms and his feet as he stepped into them, supporting himself by his hand on her shoulder.

‘I thought you already gave me all the vital checks?’

‘Not funny, James! There. Done!’

‘Tee shirt. Might as well get rid of that as well.’ He slowly sank back down on the sofa.

Jennifer wondered whether this would ever end. He thought she was
sexy.
What did he feel as her fingers made contact with his skin? Did it do anything for him, considering he thought that she was
a sexy woman
? She fought back the tide of inappropriate questions ricocheting in her head and pulled his tee shirt off, where it joined the rest of his now barely damp clothes on the ground, and helped him with the tee shirt she had grabbed from her father’s chest of drawers.

None of the clothes fitted him properly. The jogging bottoms were too short and the tee shirt was too tight. He should have looked ridiculous but he didn’t. He just carried on looking sinfully, unfairly, disturbingly sexy.

‘Okay. I’m going to stick these in the wash and have a shower and then I’ll make you some coffee. I’m sure Dad has some sleeping tablets somewhere in his bedroom from when he did his back in a few years ago. Shall I get them for you?’

‘Painkillers are about as far as I’m prepared to go when it comes to taking tablets.’

Jennifer shrugged and backed towards the door, clutching the clothes in one hand like a talisman.

Anyone would imagine, he thought with sudden irritation, that she had been asked to walk on a bed of hot coals. She made lots of noises about friendship but her body language was telling a different story. This wasn’t the girl upon whom he had always thought he could rely. This wasn’t the girl fascinated by his stories and willing to go the extra mile for him. This was a woman inconvenienced by his presence, a woman determined to keep him at a distance. He had hurt her once and she had moved on, leaving him behind in her wake. The knowledge was frustrating. He wondered how well he had ever known her. She had skimmed over her relationship with the Frenchman and had mentioned no other guys, although he was sure that there would have been some. The woman was a knockout. But whereas once she would have happily confided in him, leaving no detail out, this was no longer the case. He could remember a time when she had laughed and told him little stories about the people she went to school with and, later, to university. No more.

Fair’s fair
, he thought. Did she know
him
? He was uneasily aware that a relationship flowed two ways. It was
something he was poorly equipped for. His relationships with women were disposable and had always involved more effort on their part than on his.

James was not given to this level of pointless introspection and he pushed it aside.

‘Well, it’s up to you,’ she was saying now with a dismissive shrug. ‘I think, as well, that you should sleep down here. The sofa is big enough and comfortable enough and it’ll save you the trip up the stairs. There’s a downstairs toilet, as you know… I know the bath is upstairs but I’m sure you’ll be able to manage things better… tomorrow… after you’ve had a good night’s sleep…’ She hoped so because she drew the line at helping him into a bath or under the shower. Just thinking about it made her feel a little wobbly.

Having delivered that speech in a surprisingly calm, controlled, neutral voice, she fled up the stairs, had a very quick shower, which was blissful, and then returned to the sitting room with an armful of bed linen. She had expected to find him still lying on the sofa but he wasn’t. He had moved to one of the chairs and switched the television on. Wall-to-wall coverage of the weather.

Quickly and efficiently, she began making up the sofa with two sheets, the duvet which she had pilfered from her father’s bed, likewise the pillows.

‘You probably shouldn’t be taxing your back too much,’ she said, hovering by the sofa because she didn’t intend to stay down and watch television with him. There was danger in this pretend domesticity and she had no intention of falling prey to it.