Curling up into the foetal position, she clutched her nauseous stomach. She must have been poisoned—yes, that was all there was to it. Some naughty kitchen hand in charge of plating up the hor d’oeuvres that had been passed around from time to time last night and to which she had helped herself to with relish had not washed his or her hands after going to the toilet. She was the victim of someone else’s poor personal hygiene because the horrendous way she felt at this moment in time simply could not be due to the mismatch of alcoholic beverages that had passed her oh-so receptive lips last night. God, she’d kill for a lemonade icy pole!
At least she was still dressed, she thought, risking a glance under the duvet, though—oh mortification! The dress had ridden up to her middle over the course of the night, leaving her undergarments in full view should anybody have decided to sneak a peek. Nora would not be impressed, either, at her ridiculously expensive LBD having been used as a nighty. Oh well, Jess decided as she heard the shower in the en-suite stop running; she had bigger things to worry about than Nora. Besides, what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. The door to the bedroom opened and she knew she was going to have to sit up and open her eyes. It was time to face the music or rather, Nick Jameson.
He had a towel wrapped around his waist and even in her current poorly state, Jess couldn’t help but notice the definition of his stomach muscles and the tiny curling tendrils of hair running from his navel down to his…she looked up, deciding to concentrate on the droplets of water still clinging to his wet hair instead. He really was rather gorgeous, she thought, suddenly becoming aware of the dishevelled vision she must be. Oh my God, I probably look like a red-headed Gene frigging Simmons! She tried to nonchalantly calm her curls down by running her fingers through her hair.
“Good morning and how are you feeling?” Nick grinned at her before turning away to sift through his wardrobe. “I think that last daiquiri caught up on you last night.”
Jess didn’t think he’d buy her “poisoned due to poor personal hygiene” theory.
“Um, I’ve been brighter and I’m sorry I, uh…”
“Fell asleep on me?” He turned around, a coat hanger with a shirt and pair of dress pants in his hands. “Don’t worry about it, although I can’t say I wasn’t disappointed.” He winked at her, and Jess felt her stomach do a somersault and this time it wasn’t down to the alcohol and cream swishing around in it.
“Would a coffee and a couple of painkillers help?”
“Oh yes, please—a strong coffee and some extra-strength morphine should do it,” she croaked, trying not to look as he dropped the towel and got dressed.
“That bad, huh? I’ll be back in a sec.”
Nick left the room and Jess took a moment to look around. The décor of the room suited him. It was in keeping with what she remembered having seen of the rest of his apartment when they’d arrived back last night to carry on their snog fest in privacy. She flushed, flashing back to how they’d tumbled on to his bed and how things had been getting very hot and heavy, or to use Nora’s turn of phrase, fruity—OMIGOD! Another thought occurred to her. What must he think of her and her knickers? He’d gotten up to go to the bathroom and she remembered thinking she should whip them off but everything went kind of black after that and she must have fallen asleep. “God, you’re such a prize, Jessica Baré,” she muttered, coming back to the present.
Nick’s bedroom was modern, minimalist, and masculine all at the same time. But she didn’t have time to be sitting here admiring the white ambience of his boudoir, she told herself, grabbing her purse. Rummaging inside, she produced her compact and snapping it open, gazed at the woeful reflection staring back at her with distaste. Oh yes, the look she’d thrown together this morning was very much KISS. Humming “I Was Made for Lovin’ You”, she began rubbing at the black smudges under her eyes, noticing that her dramatic lips had long since disappeared and were now dry and cracked, oh and crap—was that dried dribble snaking down the side of her chin?
Nick reappeared as promised a few minutes later. Jess didn’t know why she was surprised he’d come back because it wasn’t as though he could do a runner; she was in his apartment, after all. He handed her a couple of what she hoped would be miracle pills and a cup of coffee. Clasping the mug with both hands, she inhaled the rich aroma gratefully. He must have one of those fancy coffee machines, she decided, and taking a tentative sip, she was pleased it stayed down. She swallowed the tablets one after the other, willing them to take effect.
Nick looked amused as he sat down on the bed next to her. “Are you hungry? Because I do a mean bacon buttie.”
Jess’s tummy rolled violently as Wilbur floated before her eyes. “Um, no—the coffee is fine, thanks.”
“Sure?”
“Sure.”
“Look, I hate to have to do this but I’ve got a meeting I have to be at for ten. I can drop you home on my way if you like?”
Jess glanced at the bedside table clock. It was already nine. She didn’t add, “So, no chance of a bit of the old morning delight then?” That would be sure to take her mind off the pain in her head. Mind you, in her current state she was not exactly looking or feeling like a femme fatale and she supposed she should be grateful not to have to venture outside to loiter on street corners, waiting for public transport.
“Yeah, that would be great, thanks, if it’s not putting you out?”
“No, not at all.”
Jess finished her coffee as Nick told her about the meeting he was going to.
“There’s a couple of stay-at-home mums—you know, the type that call themselves home executives?” he sneered.
She didn’t know of any mothers who called themselves that but she nodded anyway.
“They’ve got far too much time on their hands, blocking the sale of this decrepit bloody community centre that is a safety hazard anyway. I have to try to convince the Council that they’re bored housewives with nothing better to do than hold up progress and it is progress. Who wouldn’t rather add value to their property with luxury apartments in the neighbourhood instead of an eyesore of a public building?” His voice was steely and Jess remembered her conversation with Jo the night before.
Still, she thought he was a businessman and successful businessmen didn’t set out to make friends with everybody nor could they afford to be sentimental. In his eyes, a building was bound to be just a building—bricks and mortar and no more. It was a good job Brianna wasn’t privy to his views on women who chose to stay home to look after their children, though. She’d have set Harry on him.
A phone rang somewhere in the living room and Nick excused himself, giving her the opportunity to get out of bed, race to the bathroom to brush her teeth with her finger, and run a comb through her bedraggled locks.
Thankfully she’d found a pair of dark glasses to don for the ride home but when they pulled up outside Riverside Apartments, Nick took them off her. “You’ve got beautiful eyes; don’t hide them,” he murmured.
Jess blushed, beginning to make a joke about how bloodshot they were but he silenced her with a kiss.
“I’d like to see you again,” he said, coming up for air.
“I’d like that too.”
“I’ve got business down in Kerry over the weekend and then I’ll be tied up for Monday and Tuesday dealing with this community centre crap but things should be settling down mid-week. How about giving me a chance to show off my culinary prowess on, say, Wednesday night?”
He wanted to cook her dinner despite her having black teeth on their first date, falling asleep just before a crucial moment on their second date, not to mention exposing her support knickers and waking up looking like Morticia Addams with red hair! “That would be lovely,” Jess breathed, getting out of the car and watching as it sped off down the Quays, a sleek grey bullet weaving its way through the morning traffic.
She was walking on air as she made her way across the courtyard to her building, not even minding when a familiar voice said, “
Oi, love, you’re looking a bit rough on it this morning.”
Chapter Ten
“Oh my God, Brie, he wants to cook me dinner! Even after the horrific impression I must have made. Can you believe it—I’ve met a man who actually cooks?” Jess shrieked down the phone. She had perked right up after having stood under her shower for fifteen minutes, allowing the pounding water to ease the pounding in her head. “I have never had a boyfriend who could cook, not ever.” Of course she couldn’t count the meal she’d enjoyed at Owen’s because he wasn’t her boyfriend. That was different, she assured herself. Besides, it wasn’t as though he had had any choice in the matter. He was hardly going to let her starve and it wasn’t as though there was a McDonald’s just down the road.
“This Nick does sound pretty special from what you’ve told me. I can’t wait to meet him.”
“You’ll love him,” Jess gushed, though even as the words tripped from her tongue, she wasn’t sure Brianna would be smitten, especially not if they got onto the subject of the desperate housewives holding up his purchase of their local community centre. It was all a bit too close to home and exactly the kind of cause Brianna liked getting behind.
“Hey, wouldn’t it be great if you and Nora have both met your soul mates at long last! Ooh, you could have a double wedding and I could be bridesmaid or because I am married, do I have to be a matron of honour?”
“Brie, you’re getting way ahead of yourself. I haven’t even had sex with the man yet.”
“No but you would have if you hadn’t passed out.”
“It sounds terrible when you say it like that.”
The two women burbled on, happily discussing Nora and her death-defying activities all in the name of love, the latest Harry misdemeanour (he had laddered his mother’s new tights to dress up as Superman, to which Jess had consoled Brianna by saying that it could have been worse—he could have been dressing up as Wonder Woman) until eventually the conversation veered its way around to Jess’s spontaneous trip to the North.
“Believe it or not, I have never been across the border,” Brianna said. “From what I’ve seen on the telly, it’s like it’s another country—you know, with the different currency, the British shops, and all those murals and flags everywhere.”
“I didn’t see too much of that side of things because you were bang-on about the bus. It more or less took the back roads all the way to Ballymcguinness. It was a complete nightmare.”
Jess filled Brianna in on Leery Len to shrieks of laughter before moving on to Owen.
“Oh, that poor man and his family; it’s just so sad.” Brianna sniffed. “I don’t suppose it’s the type of thing you ever really get over, either. I wonder if that’s why his marriage broke down; maybe he’s never dealt with his grief properly because men don’t talk about things like we do. They bottle it all up.”
“No, to be honest, Brie, I think it was more likely his wife left him because he’s a right moody bugger. One minute he’s Mr Charming the next he’s Mr Surly. If I had the space, I’d go for custody of Wilbur.”
“Jess, you’re terrible! Give the man a break; he’s had a terrible time of it. You and I can’t even begin to imagine what him and his family went…oh crap, is that the time? I have to run. I’ve got a meeting I have to get to. Sorry to rush off on you, babe. Ciao.”
“No probs. I need to get on with some actual writing and not talking anyway.”
As soon as Jess put the phone down, it rang again.
She answered it to hear Nora’s harried voice. “It’s me, sweets—tell all but try to tell all in five minutes because Ewan’s taking me waterskiing and we’re leaving in ten.”
“Good God, Nora! It is frigging freezing outside today! And you hate getting wet.” Jess was taken aback because her friend was definitely a lounge around poolside in her bikini girl who didn’t even like to dip a toe in to test the water. Nope, the red swimsuit Baywatch run was definitely not for the Nora she knew and loved.
“It’s not cold in the South of France and who knows? I might enjoy waterskiing.” She did not sound convinced. “Anyway, I didn’t phone you to talk about me. Come on, dish the goodies.”
Jess gave a much-edited version of her antics the night before, knowing that Nora would be nowhere near as sympathetic as Brianna had been about the whole hideous undies, falling asleep debacle.
“Okay, so let me get this straight—you didn’t have sex?”
“No, we were, uh, um, I actually I decided I wasn’t ready so we just cuddled. He was a perfect gentleman.”
“Jessica, Jessica, Jessica,” Nora tutted down the line and Jess didn’t need to see her to know she would be shaking her head. “Come on, it’s me Nora you’re talking to. You crashed out, didn’t you? Mouth wide open, whole nine yards, full monty, dribbling crashed out.” There was more tutting.
“Yeah.” Jess sighed, knowing the game was up. “How did you guess?”
“Like I said, it’s me you’re talking to. Firstly, you never do well when you mix your drinks and secondly, since when have you ever not been ready when a gorgeous man happens along and you’ve had a skin full?”
Jess wasn’t sure she liked this summarising of her behaviour, even if it was true.
“Oh my God, he didn’t see your un—”
Jess was saved by the bell.
“Listen, Ewan’s here so I’ve got to go but before I do, I have two words for you.”
“What?”
“Lingerie and redemption. For God’s sake, woman, go get yourself some decent underwear before your next date!”
Jess hung up the phone. She supposed Nora was right. Her Mum hadn’t sent her any decent, saucy sets in ages. She seemed to have decided her daughter was a bit of a lost cause in that respect, especially if the slippers were anything to go by.
Moseying into the kitchen, she eyed her cupboards hopefully, deciding she needed something starchy and full of carbs before she could even think about doing any work. Opening the doors of the pantry, she surveyed the shelves hopefully. She’d done a Tesco’s run last week, so she had plenty of food in. On closer inspection, though, it was all food that involved some sort of preparation on her part—be it adding milk to it or and this was definitely a no-goer—actually cooking. Frowning, she put the can of lentils back on the shelf and headed over to the fridge instead. Hmm…cheese, yogurt, some token carrots and broccoli—no, there was nothing else for it, she decided, slamming the fridge door shut. She’d have to hit McDonald’s. Putting her laptop into its carry case and grabbing her purse, she headed out the door.
***
“Eat yer fecking fries!”
Jess had gotten so lost in her work that she had forgotten where she was: the Mary Street McDonald’s. Across from her sat a girl with stringy bleached hair, hardly old enough to be out of nappies herself. She was holding out a packet of French fries to a little boy perched in a high chair. He had a nose that was desperately in need of blowing and was far more interested in bashing the plastic toy that had come with his Happy Meal than eating his fries. The girl turned her pointy featured gaze toward Jess, who quickly looked away, not wanting her to give her the opportunity to ask, “What the feck are youse looking at?”
Sitting on top of her table were the bedraggled remains of a few stray pieces of lettuce, along with two empty Big Mac boxes. Jess sighed and looked at the two crumpled pieces of cardboard. It was another misdemeanour that she wouldn’t be willingly sharing with Nora. Turning her attention back to her laptop, she decided to email what she had just typed off to Owen. She’d written it from the heart and she hoped he would realise that when he read through it. Typing a quick message inquiring as to Wilbur’s health, she attached her article and hit Send. Closing down her laptop, she decided it was time to head home but maybe she’d just grab a large fries first.
***
As Jess sprawled sloth-like on the settee later that evening, she had two phone calls. The first was from Marian, who was telephoning on the pretext of giving h
er daughter a general update as to how everyone was at home. Once they’d established that everybody was fine and that Kelly and the Martian were going at it like rabbits (to which Jess had made gagging noises) in their efforts to conceive, she’d moved swiftly onto the business at hand. The real reason behind her phone call was to interrogate her eldest daughter as to how her date had gone.
“Did he pick you up in that sports car of his?”
“Yes, Mum.”
“Did he hold the car door open for you like a proper gentleman?”
“Yes, Mum.”
“Frank, he has good manners! He didn’t drive like a maniac, I hope? Honestly, some of the teenagers your Dad and I see hooning around the neighbourhood now in their zoop-zoop cars are just accidents waiting to happen. Most of them can’t even see over the steering wheel. It’s ridiculous letting kids have cars like that, isn’t it, Frank?”
“No, Mum, he stuck to the speed limit. It’s pretty impossible not to; the traffic is nightmarish in central Dublin and besides, he isn’t a teenager.”
“What did you wear in the end?” She moved swiftly on.
“You’ll be pleased to know I didn’t wear my Anne Klein. I borrowed a lovely little black dress with a cream bodice from Nora. She gave it her stamp of approval and she is dating a movie star, Mum, so she knows her stuff.”
“Thank God!—She didn’t wear the wool outfit, Frank!—What about knickers? Did you take my advice with regard to your knickers?”
Jess heard her father’s voice in the background, “Marian!”
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