The Girl He'd Overlooked (8 page)

‘The more I tax it, the faster I’ll be back on my feet,’ James said curtly, realising, from her dithering, that she had no intention of being in his company any more than was strictly necessary. Her body language was telling him that, whatever common ground they had managed to carve
out for themselves, she still hadn’t signed up to be stuck with him in the cottage for an indefinite period of time. That was beyond the call of duty.

‘Aren’t you going to relax and watch some television with me?’ he asked, perversely drawn to hearing her confirm what was going through his head, and his mouth twisted cynically as she shook her head and stammered out some excuse about still having to clear the kitchen, being really tired after the day’s events, needing to finish some emails she had started earlier in the afternoon…

‘In that case,’ he said coolly, ‘I wouldn’t dream of keeping you. If you make sure that the painkillers are at hand, then I’ll see you in the morning.’ He stood up, waved aside her offer of assistance and made his way back to the sofa, where he lay down carefully as she left the sitting room, closing the door quietly behind her.

I
T DIDN’T
take long for Jennifer to work out that James made a very demanding patient.

She awoke the following morning at seven-thirty and tiptoed downstairs to discover that the light in the sitting room was on, as was the television, which was booming out the news. James was on the sofa and she stood for a moment in the doorway to the sitting room with her dressing gown wrapped tightly around her, drinking him in. She had hoped to simply grab a cup of coffee and retreat back to her bedroom for a another hour’s worth of sleep, but he noticed her and glanced across broodingly at her silhouette.

‘There’s no end to this snow,’ were his opening words. The curtains had been pulled open as if to reinforce his darkest suspicion that they were, indeed, still stranded in a sea of white. ‘The last time it snowed like this, life didn’t return to normal for two weeks. I have work to do.’

‘That goes for the both of us,’ Jennifer muttered, ungluing herself from the doorway and stepping into the sitting room to toss a few logs into the now-dead fire.

She had exhausted herself wondering how she was going to deal with James under her roof. She had feverishly analysed the heady, unhealthy mix of emotions his presence generated, had shakenly viewed her loss of calm
as a dangerous and possibly slippery slope to a place she couldn’t even begin to imagine, a place where she once again became captive to feelings she had spent years stuffing away out of sight. Now she realised that, while she had been consumed with her own emotional turmoil, he likewise was counting down to when they could part company.

She sourly wondered if
making the best of things
was becoming a strain. Add to that the fact that he was now out of action and she could understand why he was contemplating the still-falling snow with an expression of loathing.

‘I’ve had to let Paris know that I can’t say when I’ll be back. I’m missing Patric’s next exhibition, which I had been looking forward to. You’re not the only one desperate to get out of here!’

James wondered whether she could make things any clearer. If she had had skis, he would not have been surprised to find her strapping them to her feet so that she could use them.

And who cared whether she happened to be missing her ex-boyfriend’s exhibition? He thought back to the fair-haired man with the earring and the fedora and scowled. They had gone out and broken up. Who, in God’s name, remained good friends with their ex-partner? It was unhealthy. His mood, which had been grim the night before when she had made it clear that the last thing she wanted was his company, became grimmer in receipt of this unwanted piece of information.

‘I’ve been up since five,’ James told her, levering himself into a sitting position.

‘Wasn’t the sofa comfortable?’

‘It’s big but so am I. I wouldn’t say it’s been the most amazing night’s sleep. My back was in agony.’

‘I left some painkillers…’

By way of response, James held up the plastic tub and tipped it upside down. ‘Not enough and I didn’t have the energy to hobble into the kitchen to see if I could find more. Your father has an eccentric way of storing things.’

Jennifer, ashamed because she had spared little thought for his back in between her own inner confusion, instantly told him to wait right there, that she would get him some painkillers immediately, something stronger than paracetamol.

‘Where am I supposed to go?’ James asked sarcastically. ‘I am literally at your mercy.’

Jennifer almost grinned. He was always so masterful, so much in control, the guy who was never fazed by anything and yet here he was now as sullen and as sulky as a child deprived of his Christmas treat because the body on which he depended had let him down.

‘I like the sound of that,’ she told him and he quirked an eyebrow and then reluctantly smiled.

‘Really? So what do you intend to do with me?’ Jennifer didn’t know whether there was any kind of double meaning to that soft drawl, but she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

‘Well…’ be brisk and keep it all on an impersonal level, two friends thrown together against their will, two friends who had absolutely no history ‘… first of all I shall go and get you some painkillers. A full tub of them, although I don’t have to tell you that under no circumstances are you to go over the allotted dosage—’

‘There’s a career in nursing crying out for you—’

‘And then—’ she ignored his interruption ‘—I shall light that fire because this room is pretty cold—’

‘Fire went out some time around two in the morning.’

‘You were up at two in the morning?’

‘Between the sudden drop in temperature and the agony in my back, sleep was difficult.’

Jennifer, distracted from her list of things to do, wasn’t sure whether to believe him or not. The advantage to their familiarity with one another was that there was no need to continually try and be entertaining or even talkative. The disadvantage was that he would see no need whatsoever to be on his best behaviour.

‘And then I shall go up to your house and fetch whatever it is you want me to fetch.’

She didn’t give him time to ask any questions. Instead, she went to the kitchen, located a box of strong painkillers and took them in with a glass of water.

‘You’ll have to help me into a sitting position.’

‘Honestly, James, stop milking it.’ But she helped him up and she knew, although she could barely admit it to herself, that she liked the feel of his body. She could tell herself that she had to be careful until the cows came home, but it was heady and treacherously thrilling to touch him, even if the touching, like this, was completely innocent.

Flustered, she turned her attention to the dead fire, and she began going through the routine of relighting it. It was something she had done a million times. More logs would have to be brought in from the shed outside. She hoped that they would have been cut. Her father was reliable when it came to making sure that they were well stocked over the winter months. Snow, at some point, was inevitable and it never paid to take something as simple as electricity for granted. Too many times it had failed, leaving them without heating.

James edged himself up a bit more and watched, fascinated, as she dealt expertly with the fire. He had turned down the volume on the television when she had entered the sitting room and the flickering light from the TV
picked out the shine in her long, wavy hair, which fell across her face as she knelt in front of the fireplace.

She wasn’t one of those useless, helpless women who thought that their role in life was to be dependent. Her slender hands efficiently did what had to be done. Her robe had fallen open and he could see her tee shirt underneath and the shorts that she slept in. Sensible sleeping wear and never, he thought, had he ever seen anything so damned sexy.

James was taken aback by the sudden ferocity of his arousal and he realised that it had been there from the start, practically from the moment he had laid eyes on her again. He whipped the duvet over him because she wouldn’t have been able to miss the definition of his erection underneath the jogging bottoms that she had brought down for him the evening before and that he was still wearing.

His breath caught in his throat when, eventually, she stood up, all five foot leggy ten, and brushed her hands together to shake off some of the woody dust and ash. She had forgotten that she was supposed to clutch the dressing gown around her and now he had an eyeful of long, shapely legs and the brevity of a tee shirt that delineated full, firm breasts. He thought back to four years previously when she had offered herself to him, thought back to how close he had come to taking what had been on offer, only pulling back because he had known, instinctively, that a vulnerable girl with little experience didn’t need a man like him. Desire for her now slammed into him and he half closed his eyes.

‘No wonder you have to pull that duvet over you.’ Jennifer walked towards him and James looked at her. She was resting her hands on her waist and wore a reproving expression. ‘It’s cold in here even with the heating on. You should have yelled for me to come down and
light the fire. I would have understood that you couldn’t do it yourself.’

James shifted and dragged his eyes away from those abundant orbs barely contained underneath the skimpy tee shirt. In resting her hands on her waist, she had pushed aside the dressing gown and was it his imagination or could he see, in the grey, indistinct light, the outline of her nipples?

‘I was hardly about to do that when you made it clear that taking care of me for five minutes was a chore,’ he said gruffly, dragging his eyes away from the alluring sight.

Jennifer flushed guiltily in the face of this blunt accusation. He couldn’t even look her in the face and she could understand why. She had been a miserable friend, taking out her insecurities on him when he had done nothing but try and fix the gaping hole four years of absence had left in their friendship. In return, she had sniped, chastised and been grudging in her charity. God, he was probably close to truly disliking her.

When she thought about that, about him really not wanting to spend time in her company, she was filled with a sour, sickening anguish.

Although she had been at pains to avoid him for four long years, she had never, actually, thought about the simple truth, which was that she had engineered the destruction of a long-standing friendship. She had thought that the choice was a simple one. All or nothing. And in Paris she had managed to kid herself that nothing was achievable. It wasn’t. Her heart picked up speed and she longed for him to look at her again instead of averting his eyes from her the way he would have averted them from a stranger who couldn’t be bothered to help out in a crisis.

‘I’m sorry if that was the impression I gave you, James. I didn’t mean to. It’s not a chore. Of course, it isn’t.’

‘You’ve made it perfectly clear that this is the last place on the face of the earth you want to be, especially when there’s the exciting pull of Paris, parties and important exhibitions to view.’

‘I never said anything about parties,’ Jennifer mumbled. Disconcertingly, the exhibition that she had been looking forward to when she had left Paris now held little appeal. Technicolor reality was happening right here and everything else had been reduced to an out-of-focus, inconsequential background blur.

‘And Patric will be fine hosting his exhibition without me. In fact, sometimes those things can be a little bit tiring.’

James, who couldn’t think of the blond man without feeling distinctly uptight, pricked up his ears. He looked as she perched on the side of the sofa and picked absently at the tassel on one of the cushions, which she had rescued from the ground where it had landed at some point during the night.

‘Really?’ he asked in an encouraging voice and she shot him a guilty look from under her lashes.

James kept his eyes firmly fixed on her face because anywhere else would have been disastrous for the array of responses his body was having in her presence. Those were definitely her nipples outlined against the soft cotton tee shirt. He could see the tips of them. It was just one reason to make sure he looked directly at her face, although even that made him feel a little giddy.

‘I love art and I just love going to exhibitions and, of course, I would do anything in the world to help Patric out, but sometimes it gets a little boring at those dos. Lots of glamorous people trying to outdo one another. The women are always dripping with jewellery and most of the men barely look at the paintings because they are into investment
art. You see, Patric’s parents are rather well connected so the guest list is usually… well… full of the Great and the Good…’

‘Sounds tedious,’ James murmured. ‘Can’t stand that kind of thing myself…’

‘It
can
be a little dull,’ Jennifer confided. ‘But the financial climate is tough out there and art is a luxury buy at the end of the day. Patric has no option but to put up with stuff like that.’

‘Maybe he enjoys it…’ James was keen to insinuate that the wonderful best-buddy-confidante thing might have been something of an illusion. People who go abroad could be very susceptible to the kindness of strangers. ‘He certainly looked on top of the world in those pictures I saw of him. Big grin, lots of hot babes around him…’

‘He always has a lot of hot babes around him.’ Jennifer laughed. ‘He’s that kind of person. Women are attracted to him. He doesn’t try to hide his feminine side.’

‘You’re telling me that the man’s gay?’

‘I’m telling you no such thing!’ But she found herself laughing, right back in that place where they had always been so good together. ‘He’s just in tune with women, likes talking about the things they like talking about, and he’s also a massive flirt.’

James wanted to ask her if that was why they had broken up. Had she, perhaps, caught him in bed with one of those hot babes to whom he had been pouring out his heart, showing his sensitive side, while simultaneously chatting about clothes and shoes and feelings?

But regrettably she was standing up and telling him that she would go and get changed and get the day started.

‘I’ll bring you some breakfast,’ she said, ‘just as soon as I’ve had a shower. Er…’ Should she ask him whether he wanted a shower? A bath, maybe, if he was up to that?
She decided not to because just the thought of helping him get undressed made her feel light-headed and horribly, horribly turned on.

‘Er… I won’t be long…’ She thought about helping him get naked, wondered what he would look like and felt faint at the thought of it. ‘You can make a list of what you want me to bring back from the house for you and I’ll need your key. I know Dad has one but I have a feeling he keeps it on his key ring, which he took with him to Scotland.’

For the first time since she had arrived at the cottage and run slap bang into James, Jennifer was feeling on top of the world as she quickly showered and changed into a pair of faded jeans, a vest, a tee shirt, a jumper and some very thick knee-high socks. She knew why. Keeping him at a continual distance was hard work. Of course, she wasn’t about to start being overly chummy, giggling and forgetting that he was the guy who had broken her young heart, but it was just a hell of a lot easier to let him in just a little.