by Miranda Lee
‘Olivia, look, I…’
‘Gosh, but don’t you sound serious,’ Olivia broke in, her voice light and teasing. ‘I thought we promised each other never to get serious.’
‘You were the one who was starting to sound serious,’ Jake pointed out.
‘Yes, I know. Silly me, getting all jealous about that actress. But you can’t blame me, Jake. I’m competitive by nature and I just didn’t like the way she looked at you. Like she was going to have you for supper.’
‘Olivia, I have no intention of having anything further to do with Maddie Hanks. It was an interview. End of story.’
‘Yes, of course. I’m sorry. Am I forgiven?’
What could he possibly say to that?
‘Don’t be angry with me, Jake,’ she went on before he could find the right words.
‘I’m not angry,’ he said. Just dismayed.
‘Excellent,’ she said. ‘Because I’m in desperate need of sex. And you, lover boy, are just the man to deliver.’
A week ago, before Craig’s death, Jake would have laughed. He’d always liked Olivia’s slightly bawdy nature, plus her sometimes insatiable sex drive. Why, then, did he feel so disgruntled over her reducing him to the role of stud? He should have been pleased. And relieved. This was all he wanted from a woman, wasn’t it?
An image suddenly popped into his mind, of another woman—one with lovely big eyes wet with tears—one who would never say things like that.
‘I’m sorry, Olivia,’ he said. ‘But I’m not in the mood for sex right now.’
Her silence showed how much his rejection shocked her. Jake knew in his heart that this was the beginning of the end. Olivia was not going to be happy, but it was better to break up whilst they were still friends.
‘Maybe you should find someone else,’ he suggested quietly, hoping she would get the message without his having to spell it out.
‘Like you have, you mean,’ she threw at him. ‘Who do you think you’re kidding, Jake? You’re always in the mood for sex. There’s someone else, isn’t there?’
Jake swallowed half a glass of wine before answering. ‘No, Olivia,’ he told her rather wearily. ‘There’s no one else.’ It wasn’t really a lie, even if Abby’s face kept popping into his mind.
‘Then who are you spending next Saturday morning with?’ she demanded to know.
‘If you must know, I’m taking Abby car shopping,’ he said, well aware that it would cause trouble. But he no longer cared. He wanted Olivia out of his life.
‘Abby who?’ she screeched.
‘Abby Jenkins,’ he told her quite calmly. ‘My housekeeper. Craig left me instructions in his will to buy her a car.’
‘But…but…why would he do that?’
‘Apparently she was nice to him when he stayed here a while back.’
‘Nice to him in what way?’ she said nastily.
How predictable she was. ‘In her usual sweet way, I would imagine. Abby is a sweet girl.’
‘Girl! I thought you said your housekeeper was a widow.’
‘She is. Her husband died young.’
‘I see. So how old is she, if I might ask?’
‘Twenty-seven.’
‘You never told me she was that young,’ Olivia said, her tone accusing.
‘Well, I’m telling you now.’
‘Is she attractive?’ she snapped.
‘Olivia, I don’t like the way this conversation is going.’
‘Just answer the bloody question.’
‘Abby’s a very attractive girl.’
‘I’ll just bet she is. I dare say you wouldn’t hire any other kind. So how long have you been sleeping with her?’
‘I am not sleeping with her,’ Jake denied. ‘I hardly ever talk to her.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
Jake remained silent as his temper rose. If he spoke now, he’d say something he’d regret.
‘You’re not fooling me, Jake. You are sleeping with your housekeeper and nothing you say will make me believe otherwise.’
‘In that case, I think we should call it quits, don’t you?’
‘Absolutely,’ she said, and cut him off without another word.
Jake sighed. He preferred his relationships to end a little more civilly, and a lot more classily. But sometimes it just wasn’t possible. A pity, though. Olivia had suited his lifestyle very well. Or she had, till Craig died and forced Jake to face what he had been secretly wanting for a long time: Abby.
No doubt Olivia would spread it around that she’d come home from her weekend away to discover that Jake was sleeping with his housekeeper. He could deny it, of course. But he’d always found that denial fuelled rumours to greater heights. It wasn’t as though any of this would reach Abby’s ears. If he ignored the whispers around the channel—the TV world had a gossip grapevine second to none—by next week it would be yesterday’s news.
Meanwhile, he had a week of shows to do and a difficult Saturday to endure.
Shoving his phone into his pocket, he stood up and made his way to the kitchen to make himself some supper before retiring for the night. As he extracted two slices of raisin bread from the freezer then popped them in the toaster, his thoughts slid back to Olivia’s accusation that he was sleeping with Abby.
He wished!
Okay, so he possibly could seduce Abby if he put his mind to it. Jake knew he hadn’t exactly been Prince Charming around her up till now. But seducing a woman like Abby would be a double-edged sword. Because she was the kind of woman men fell in love with—the kind of woman who made men want to marry them. Maybe even have children with them.
His mind boggled at this last thought!
Nope. Seducing Abby was one big no-no in Jake’s head.
Now, if only he could convince his body to agree with him…
The toast popped up but Jake didn’t notice. He was remembering how Abby’s breasts had felt pressed hard against his chest. They were full and feminine and very soft. He wondered what kind of nipples she had. Would they be small and pink, or large and dusky? He didn’t mind either way, as long as they were responsive.
Jake sucked in sharply once he realised where his thoughts were taking him.
‘This is not good,’ Jake muttered as he turned his attention to the rapidly cooling toast. He didn’t want to be tempted to seduce Abby. It was a powerful temptation, though a dangerous one. Because, even if he managed to keep it to just an affair and not let his emotions get involved, Jake knew Abby didn’t have the experience to handle an affair with a man like him. In the end, he would break her heart.
And it wasn’t a hard-boiled heart like Olivia’s. Abby’s heart was soft and sweet. To risk breaking such a heart would be wicked. And Jake wasn’t wicked. At the same time, he wasn’t a saint. Best to keep physical contact with Abby to a minimum, came his firm lecture to himself. Be especially careful when you take her to that cemetery on Saturday, for starters. Whisk her away before she starts crying again. No more hugging. And not too much chit-chat.
Jake supposed he couldn’t get out of helping her buy a new car, since she’d want to trade in that old ute and was sure to be taken advantage of by some slick salesman. But once he knew what kind of car she liked, he’d do a lot of the groundwork over the phone before Saturday then direct her straight to his chosen dealer, who would have her choice all registered and ready to go. That way there would be no dithering around. Before you could say Jack Robinson, she’d be driving off home in her new car, leaving him to watch her go with a clear conscience.
Humph! And who was he kidding? Jake suspected that by the end of Saturday his conscience—as well as his male hormones—would have been sorely tried. Hopefully, he would win the battle and not do anything stupid!
Crunching into a piece of cold raisin toast, he ripped off a large mouthful with a s
avagery which matched his mood. Jake hadn’t felt this frustrated since he’d been laid up in hospital with a useless leg.
Life as a confirmed bachelor, he decided, wasn’t all it was cracked up to be!
CHAPTER SEVEN
AFTER AN UNCHARACTERISTICALLY restless night, Abby woke with butterflies in her stomach. She didn’t want to care what Jake might have done with that actress the night before. She didn’t want to rush into the master bedroom as soon as she arrived at his house this morning. She certainly didn’t want to be compelled to inspect the bed for evidence of a female visitor the night before.
But Abby knew that was exactly what she was going to do.
There was no use pretending differently. Her curiosity had been aroused by Megan’s insistence that Jake would not be able to resist Maddie Hanks. It was all she’d thought about the evening before. She’d tried to read. She was on to the last of the list of ten books Craig had given her, Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca, which she was thoroughly enjoying. But even that hadn’t distracted her from thinking about what Jake might be up to. She’d tossed and turned until well after midnight.
Strangely, despite less sleep than usual, she didn’t feel tired. Just annoyed. With herself. Even more so when she started dithering over what to wear to work.
‘As if it matters what you look like,’ she flung at herself, reaching for another pair of old jeans and an equally ancient T-shirt which had once been white and was now an unflattering shade of grey. ‘He’s not going to come home again while you’re there today. Now stop all this nonsense about Jake Sanderson. Who he sleeps with is none of your business!’
Famous last words. For what did Abby do as soon as she let herself into his house? She dropped her bag in the hallway then dashed upstairs to the master bedroom, her heart going as fast as her feet.
It was a large room, dominated by a huge bed which could easily accommodate its long-limbed owner and whatever playmate—or playmates—he so desired.
Abby blinked.
Had Jake ever entertained more than one woman at a time in that bed?
It looked messy enough this morning to have hosted a whole harem in there last night. Maybe he’d had the newsreader and the actress.
With some trepidation Abby approached the bed. Gingerly, she picked up one corner of the snow-white duvet and threw it back off the end of the bed. That was followed by the top sheet, revealing nothing but a rather crumpled bottom sheet. No female perfume wafted up to her nostrils, the only smell being Jake’s, which was a mixture of man and the sandalwood scent belonging to his aftershave.
Still not certain that he hadn’t had company, Abby bolted into the en suite bathroom to see how many towels had been used since yesterday. Only two, she noted, flung carelessly over the bath as was Jake’s habit. If he’d had someone to stay then she hadn’t showered in here, or used a fresh towel.
Abby let out a deep sigh of satisfaction.
‘I told you he’s not a sleazebag, Megan,’ she said aloud.
Feeling much better, Abby went downstairs, collected her bag from the hallstand and made her way to the kitchen. There, she put on the kettle before proceeding into the utility room to inspect Jake’s whiteboard, which was empty. She’d returned to the kitchen and just poured herself some coffee when her phone rang, her heart jumping when she saw the identity of her caller.
‘Hello,’ she said, unable to hide the surprise in her voice. ‘What’s up?’
‘Nothing’s up,’ her boss answered after a moment’s hesitation. ‘I just wondered if you’d decided what kind of car you wanted yet. And what colour.’
‘I… I haven’t got around to that yet. Sorry,’ she added.
‘No need to apologise. But could you decide by tomorrow? That way I can have it ready for you by Saturday. Perhaps give me two choices of colours though, to be on the safe side. White is always a good pick. It’s cooler and holds its value better.’
‘Yes, yes, I know you’re right. But I rather like blue.’
He sighed. ‘What colour blue?’
‘Not pale blue. Or turquoise. A royal blue.’
‘Right. A royal blue. I know the Hyundai i30 comes in a nice royal blue. One of my assistants on the show has one and she loves it. Look, check it out on the internet and give me a ring tonight with your decision. Also, work out what bank account you want your money put into.’
‘Okay,’ she said, thinking to herself that he really was in a hurry to have done with all this, a thought which was a bit of a downer. It came to Abby that, against all logic and common sense, she was beginning to have feelings for Jake which were not only unwise but pointless.
It was all Megan’s fault, she decided irritably, for putting silly ideas in her head.
‘Make sure you have your old car looking as good as you can on Saturday so you can get the best trade-in possible.’
‘Oh, but I’m not going to trade in the ute,’ she told him. ‘I’m going to give it to my sister. She doesn’t have a car.’
‘Right,’ he said slowly.
‘Is that a problem?’
‘No, no, I suppose not.’
His attitude once again betrayed a degree of annoyance. No doubt he would prefer to spend this Saturday doing anything but chauffeuring her around to cemeteries and car yards. But really, there was no other solution if he wanted this all done and dusted as quickly as possible.
‘Okay,’ he went on after a longish hesitation. ‘Ring me tonight and tell me if you’re happy with that Hyundai and I’ll get the ball rolling. But if they don’t have any royal blues on the lot then it might have to be white.’
‘That’s all right. It doesn’t really matter. What time should I ring?’ She didn’t want to ring him whilst he was out with his girlfriend. Or anyone else who would remain nameless.
‘Any time after six. I’m not going out tonight.’
Why did she have to like the sound of that so much?
‘Okay. Thanks, Jake. For everything.’
‘No sweat. Bye.’
Abby just stood there for a while after they’d both clicked off, her head in a bit of a whirl. Pointless it might be, but she was definitely going to buy herself some new clothes before next Saturday. No way could she go car shopping with Jake looking anything but her best.
Thursday night was late-night shopping. Perhaps she would take Megan with her. Then again perhaps she wouldn’t. Not only would her sister ask awkward questions about why she was buying new clothes all of a sudden, but Megan would also steer Abby into buying clothes which were to her taste, which meant tight and tarty.
Feminine pride demanded she look nice for Jake on Saturday, but not tarty.
No, she would go shopping by herself and buy a few mix and match things which weren’t too expensive but which fitted properly and made her feel good. She might also indulge herself with a trip to the hairdresser. Get her hair trimmed and a treatment put in. Maybe have her nails done at the same time.
No, not her nails. That was going too far. She didn’t want Jake to think she was trying to doll herself up for him. She just wanted to look as good as she could. She’d felt ashamed of herself yesterday in those daggy old clothes with her hair scraped back and not a scrap of make-up on. If she was really going to move on with her life, it was high time she started looking after herself.
She’d really let herself go since Wayne died. Abby vowed she would turn over a new leaf tonight by having a long relaxing bath and giving her whole body some well needed attention.
Once she had a firm plan of action, Abby got started on the house. On Tuesday afternoons she always popped down to the supermarket to restock Jake’s cupboards and fridge. When she’d started this job, Jake had given her a long list of food items that he didn’t like to run out of.
He occasionally cooked meals for himself, though not often. Abby suspected he ordered takeaway a fair bi
t. Mostly Asian food. She’d seen the many and varied brochures on top of his fridge, plus the empty cartons in the bin. Abby had never seen the signs of a proper dinner party, despite the house having a lovely dining room with a beautiful big table and eight chairs. He probably took people out to dinner instead. Or maybe his current girlfriend gave dinner parties for him at her place.
Abby was wondering if this Olivia was as good a cook as she was, when she pulled herself up with a jolt.
You have to stop this, Abby Jenkins, she lectured herself. Jake Sanderson is your boss and that’s all he’ll ever be. There is no point thinking about him, or his sex life, or what his girlfriends do or don’t do. It’s just as well you’ll be leaving this job soon and going overseas before the man becomes some kind of sick obsession. You’re lonely, that’s all. So go get that shopping done then get yourself home, and around seven ring Jake and, for pity’s sake, just keep the conversation businesslike.
She wished she hadn’t asked him to take her to the cemetery to visit his uncle’s grave but it was too late now. He’d think she was loopy if she kept changing her mind. She’d just have to be careful not to cry. Because she didn’t want him hugging her again. Gracious, no. No more hugging!
By the time Abby arrived home, a degree of depression had taken hold, this sudden unexpected attraction towards Jake making her acutely aware of just how lonely her life was. Really, she had no close friends other than her sister. Most of her neighbours worked in the city and were gone all day. Then at the weekends their lives were taken up with their children and their houses. Occasionally she was invited to a barbecue, but not often.
There was only one neighbour she would classify as a friend, an elderly widow who’d been very kind to her when Wayne died, but who, unfortunately, was also a terrible gossip. Abby hadn’t told Harriet that her boss was the celebrity host of Australia at Noon, knowing that if she let that little gem drop she would be bombarded with questions about Jake. She’d just said her boss was called Mr Sanderson—which was a common enough name—and was a bachelor businessman who worked long hours in the city and needed someone to look after the house for him. When Harriet assumed he was a middle-aged workaholic who was married to his job, Abby let her.