“Yes.” Jemma gave Ash a smile. “We did. And that’s why we now have a week’s extra leave.” She laced her fingers through Ash’s. “And while we’re clearing the air, there’s something else I’d like to tell everyone. Ash and I are more than just partners. We’re um,” she took a deep breath, “going out together too.”
There was a moment’s silence, then the sound of sipping and munching resumed. Everyone was taking this revelation remarkably calmly, thought Ash, surprised.
“Aren’t there regulations against that kind of thing?” asked Jemma’s father.
Ash tensed. “You mean two women?”
“Two people who work together,” he clarified.
“Oh.” Ash gave an inward smile. Should have known her parents would be fine about it. “As a matter of fact there aren’t. The Organisation doesn’t encourage relations between employees, but it doesn’t forbid them either.” She took another chocolate biscuit, chewed for a moment, then added, “I checked.”
Everyone laughed.
“So you can see,” said Ash, turning to address Maggie, “I have a powerful reason for ensuring that no one ever harms a hair on your sister’s head.”
“Sorry,” murmured Maggie. “I didn’t know.”
“That’s okay. The older sister thing—I understand. And I’m glad you’re looking out for Jemma.”
“Thanks.” Maggie smiled. “I’m glad you are too.”
Jemma rolled her eyes. “How many times do I have to tell people? I can look after myself.”
“Of course you can,” soothed Ash, Maggie, and Jemma’s parents in unison. After an exchange of startled glances, everyone laughed again, and Jemma buried her head in her hands.
“TOLD YOU IT was a good idea,” said Jemma. Her complacent tone made Ash smile.
“You did indeed.” Ash pulled up at the traffic lights. “Glad I’m no longer on your sister’s hit list.”
“Me too. So, what now?”
“I’ve got us tickets on the first flight out tomorrow morning.” Ash drummed her fingers on the steering wheel and willed the lights to change. “I need to speak with the builders about my flat. After that … How does fish and chips, packing, and bed sound? Not necessarily in that order.”
“Okay,” said Jemma. “What should I pack?”
“Your tiniest bikini.”
“Dream on,” said Jemma. Ash pretended to be disappointed. “Oh all right then. Just for you, pervert.”
“Me? I was thinking of your boyfriend.” Ash gave Jemma a sidelong glance. “You’ll be wanting to visit him, I expect.”
Jemma gaped at her. “My boyfriend?”
“Vito,” said Ash, picturing the curly-haired Canarian boy plying Jemma with endless questions on the minibus.
“Ha ha.”
“But to return to your question,” said Ash, smiling. “Just throw your passport, some sunblock, and a few clothes in a travel bag. And I mean a few.”
“Hey. I didn’t know what to expect last time,” protested Jemma. “It was my first proper mission, okay?”
“I was only teasing.”
Jemma wrinkled her nose. “I know.”
“Oh, and have a think about wallpaper,” said Ash, aiming for nonchalance.
“Wallpaper?” Jemma looked at her as though she had lost her mind.
“Yeah. The decorator says they no longer manufacture the patterns I had in the hall or the sitting room. So have a think about what you’d like instead.”
Jemma blinked. “You want me to choose the wallpaper for your flat?”
“And carpet, and a three piece suite.” Ash turned to regard her. “I want you to feel comfortable there, Jemma, at home.” She paused, feeling suddenly unsure. “I like being with you, and I was under the impression you quite like being with me. So I was thinking we could maybe make it a more … permanent arrangement.”
Jemma studied her. “You want me to move in with you?”
Ash nodded. “But only if you want to.”
“I want to,” said Jemma. “I just wasn’t sure that you wanted me to.”
Ash’s cheeks warmed. “Well I do.”
Jemma smiled. “What changed your mind?”
“Killing you.”
Jemma’s eyebrows rose. “What?”
Ash tried to explain. “That close shave you had on the London Eye was bad enough. But when I thought I’d killed you … Well, let’s just say I woke up to how I really feel about you.”
“And how do you feel about me?” said Jemma. “You said you like being with me. What does that mean?”
“What it says.”
Jemma’s brows drew together. “I was hoping for a little more.”
Ash grimaced. “You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?”
Jemma nodded and smiled.
“All right.” Ash took a breath. “If that’s what it takes. I … I … oh, for God’s sake,” she muttered in self-disgust. “Why is this so hard?”
“Let me help,” said Jemma, amused. “You said you like being with me. Do you like me?”
“Yes I bloody like you,” said Ash. “You also drive me nuts and have lousy taste in films and music, but that’s beside the point.”
Jemma cocked her head to one side. “Um, just like?”
“More than like. You must know that by now—” She saw Jemma’s expression and rolled her eyes. “Oh, all right. I think I love you. There. I said it. Happy now?”
“You’re quoting the Partridge Family at me?”
“Oh for pity’s sa—” Ash stopped speaking for the simple reason that Jemma had pulled her head down and got her in a lip lock. She lost all track of time.
In the distance a car horn sounded. Then another. Awareness of her surroundings returned, and she disentangled herself and put her foot down. The Lotus stalled, and the chorus of horns became a cacophony. In a cold sweat, Ash put the car back in gear and restarted the engine. This time, they left the rest of the traffic standing with a satisfying roar.
“Good grief,” she said, when her blood pressure was back to normal. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“Ah, but what a way to go,” said Jemma, grinning. “And for the record, I think I love you too. I think it was love at first sight.”
“Really?” Pleased, Ash glanced at her. “When I was cutting off your air supply at the training school you loved me?”
“Well, maybe not then,” amended Jemma. “Later though. You couldn’t love me at first sight because my face was covered in boot polish.”
Ash chuckled. “That was the reason, undoubtedly. Ow!” Jemma had poked her in the ribs.
They drove on in amiable silence.
“Glad that’s settled,” said Ash.
“Me too. Mind you, I haven’t said I will move in with you yet,” reminded Jemma. “Just that I want to.”
“Um. Well, there are several other good reasons you might take into consideration. You hate that poky little flat of yours, plus, there’s ketchup everywhere. And when mine’s repaired, there’ll be plenty of room for two.”
Jemma put a finger to her lips and pretended to think. “I don’t know whether I could live with someone who laughs at my choice of car.”
“Did I laugh?” said Ash. “I think it’s a wonderful car. It has character, just like its owner, who by the way is great in bed. And did I mention that orange is my favourite colour?”
Jemma snorted. “Nice try but I don’t believe a word. Except the bit about me being great in bed, of course.” She gave Ash a sly smile. “Next question: If I were to move in with you, would you promise to behave?”
“No?”
“Good answer.” Jemma leaned over and planted a kiss on Ash’s cheek. “All right then. I’ll do it. While you’re lying on the beach in the blazing sun ogling pretty blondes in tiny bikinis, I’ll be thinking about wallpaper.” But the prospect didn’t appear to upset her, and soon after, she was humming a happy tune (sadly off key, but Ash could bear it if she put her mind to it).<
br />
Ash wondered where their next mission would take them and how much trouble Jemma would land her in, then banished such thoughts from her mind. If nothing else, events had shown they made a good team, and Jemma could take care of herself. For now, there was Tenerife to look forward to. And as the red sports car surged on towards London, she joined her voice to Jemma’s.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Barbara Davies was born in Birmingham, England. A graduate of York University, she worked in IT first in Surrey then in Gloucestershire.
She published her first short story in 1994. Since then, her fiction has appeared in various genre magazines, ezines, and anthologies, including Marion Zimmer Bradley’s Fantasy Magazine, Lacuna, Tales of the Talisman, Sorcerous Signals, Khimairal Ink, Neo Opsis, and Andromeda Spaceways Inflight Magazine.
Barbara’s historical novels: Christie and the Hellcat, Rebeccah and the Highwayman, and Frederica and the Viscountess, Bourns Edge, plus a collection of her specfic short stories: Into the Yellow and other Stories.
Barbara now lives in Gloucestershire. Her website is:
www.barbaradavies.co.uk
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