Something About You (Something Borrowed Series Book 2)

by Louisa George

‘Have sex? How the hell do you think they came into being in the first place? It’s a perfectly natural and normal thing to do.’

  ‘I’d rather die than speak to them. Honestly. I don’t want human connection. I just need some rubber.’ Did she? Wow, how had she got here?

  What the hell?

  But Chloe did have a point. Three years ago, the thought of ever having sex again would never have crossed Jenna’s mind. Three months ago even. Three weeks ago, possibly. But if there was the slightest chance she might, she needed supplies, because leaving all that up to a man was stupid and naive. She was a twenty-first century woman; she needed to take her sex life into her own hands.

  As it were.

  Just in case. For some time in the future, obviously. When she was ready. Not now. Not with Nick.

  She was just being a responsible adult.

  ‘You little devil.’ Chloe had an I told you so kind of smile that Jenna wanted to wipe off her mouth. ‘Look, there’s a twenty-four-hour pharmacy over there. We can go in and use the self-service till. You won’t have to speak to anyone. No one will see you.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So what will you do? Wait until you’re in the throes of passion and hope like hell he’s got some. Sure. That’s going to work. If you’re happy with that plan, then go for it. Personally, I think you’re playing with fire.’ Chloe hauled in a breath and grinned. ‘Worse-case scenario, what if neither of you have anything? Cross your fingers and do it anyway? Because sometimes you don’t want to cross your legs. I wouldn’t go with that as an option if I were you.’

  Well, wow, one boyfriend later and Chloe had become Miss Sex Guru of the year. ‘Do not say another word. I’m dying here. Keep your head down and don’t stand near me, okay?’

  What the hell was she even doing? She was about to waste her hard-earned cash on buying something she’d never use. But she followed her sister into the store and covertly snuck to the condom and personal things aisle, wishing she wasn’t such a wuss. Chloe wasn’t so coy. She’d have walked right into the sex shop and demanded pleasurable things right there and then. But then, Jenna wasn’t Chloe. Jenna wasn’t an experienced woman about town.

  Jenna had only been with one man, and that had been lovely.

  Jenna wasn’t altogether sure whether this was the right thing to do.

  What if Nick took one look at her naked and scarpered? What if she was a disaster?

  Worse, what about Evie? What if she let her daughter fall in love with a father figure who wasn’t gentle with her heart? Or who… Dear God, she was thinking about her three-year-old while looking at… strawberry flavoured lube? That was a thing? Wow, sex had really changed in the last few years.

  Or maybe she’d always just been a little naive and conservative.

  She liked being that way. Ollie had liked her being that way.

  Now she was thinking about her dead husband and her daughter and staring at strawberry lube she was never going to use.

  ‘Hello. Can I help you?’

  Ugh. A human. A pharmacy shop human in a white coat and a name badge that said My Name Is Anthea. Anthea was smiling at Jenna. A little too eagerly.

  Jenna looked around. Where the hell had Chloe got to? One minute she’d been here, and now she’d disappeared. What the hell? Now she had to speak to this person who knew she was thinking about having sex. She brushed her hands down her dress. ‘Actually, I’m fine. Thanks. I’m just in the wrong aisle.’

  The woman looked at her in a way that said, yes, honey. I really believe you accidentally found yourself staring at strawberry lube. ‘We’ve got a special offer on our adult section items at the moment. Two for one.’

  ‘Yep. Thanks.’ No. Thanks. Go away. Sometimes she wished she wasn’t so well brought up, so bloody polite. ‘I think I’m fine—’

  ‘See here…’ My Name Is Anthea reached up and lifted down something that appeared to have glide written on it. Jenna felt the burn in her cheeks. ‘It’s a bit confusing, isn’t it? So much variety. Natural feel, tingling or intense. Lucky for you, this is my merchandising area of expertise.’

  People were experts in this? ‘Oh. Great.’

  Please leave me alone.

  My Name Is Anthea never once dropped her toothy smile as she reached up and tugged down another tube. No. Worse. Two tubes. Three. Four. She showed them to Jenna, one by one. Actually, held them out to her, offering them as if they were tubes of Smarties. ‘Do you prefer it sticky or silky? Or this? This one ensures maximum pleasure for both partners. This one’s minty fresh. Personally, I prefer—’

  ‘Whoa. I, er….’ What the actual…? Jenna wanted to put her fingers in her ears and sing la-la-la at the top of her voice. But, again, her polite upbringing made her stand and smile and take the hits.

  A frown flickered behind Anthea’s eyes. ‘Okay, none of these? What exactly are you looking for?’

  ‘Hmmmmmm… er… hmmmmmm.’ A huge hole to swallow me up right now, thanks. ‘Condoms. Just condoms.’

  ‘What? No lube?’

  ‘Should I have lube?’ Jenna just about managed to spit the words through gritted teeth and a tightly closed mouth.

  ‘Oh, I see. You’re new to this.’ Anthea lowered her voice a little and changed it to something sickly sweet, as if she were talking to a child. ‘I hope he’s worth it, honey. Don’t give your precious gift away to anyone unworthy.’

  God. Kill me know. ‘Yes. Okay. Lube. Lube it is. Just give me—thanks.’ Jenna took all the tubes out of My Name Is Anthea’s hands.

  ‘Condoms are along this shelf here, and the one below.’

  Jenna followed Anthea’s finger as she pointed down the aisle to a bewildering array of coloured packets with swirls and glittering stars on them. And weird names. So many. Too many. Still not maintaining eye contact with Anthea, Jenna whispered, ‘Two packets.’

  ‘Sorry?’ My Name Is Anthea leaned closer. She was looking at Jenna with a mix of sympathy and curiosity. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Two packets. Please.’

  ‘Ribbed? Dotted? Thin feel? Mutual climax?’

  A little old lady walking past the end of the aisle stopped and looked down at Jenna’s full hands. She smiled, eyes shining, nodded and walked away.

  God. Did the very helpful, employee of the year, Anthea want to use the shop tannoy? Maybe that way even more people would know Jenna Cassidy-Pearce, WIDOW and SINGLE MOTHER, was BUYING SEXY THINGS. It was absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. It was perfectly natural, and she was taking control; that was what independent, sexually responsible women did. She raised her chin. ‘I’ll have two.’

  Anthea’s frown deepened. ‘Sorry, love. I don’t understand. You want two packets of each kind? That’s a lot of condoms. A lot of—well, if you’re new to this, it pays to take things slowly. You can get sore, urine infections—’

  ‘Thanks! Yes.’ How can I make you stop?

  To stop herself jamming the lube into My Name Is Anthea’s mouth, Jenna raised her overflowing hands and pointed Glide and Slide towards a section of purple packets. ‘One each of those. Please.’

  Before I die.

  Chapter 12

  She didn’t die. She paid and managed to get to the flower shop on slightly wobbly legs, squeezing her handbag close to her side, afraid of what the contents really meant. Things were changing in her carefully constructed world. For three and a half years, she’d built an existence—yes, that’s what it was. An existence. Not a life. Not a living. She’d survived each day. Barely.

  And now, whether it was just that the grieving had lessened to a point where she could raise her head above the parapet again, whether it was because she just couldn’t let Evie grow up with a mother who was closed off from any idea of a relationship, or whether it was because Nick was physically back in her life, she didn’t know.

  Too many possibilities were cropping up in her head. He was cropping up in her head and, if she was honest, in her heart. Too much.

  Her instinct was to
protect herself from any kind of hurt a relationship or sex, or even just that kiss, could rain down on her. But struggling alongside that was the hot flush of an incessant desire she couldn’t fight. Didn’t want to.

  But should.

  Even now, at the end of the day, she could have sworn her cheeks were still red as she looked down at her handbag and imagined the contents. Imagined using them.

  Nick’s face popped into her head. Again.

  Oh God. He’d said he was in big trouble when it came to her, but that made two of them. The more she thought about it, the more she wanted to use the condoms. With him.

  Whatever happened, her daughter mustn’t find them. Jenna zipped her bag and put it on a high shelf above Chloe’s desk in the back room. Having been dropped off at the shop by Bridget, Evie was sitting in her favourite place: the corner of the shop on a big red cushion on the floor of her pop-up castle, holding a teddy and a book. ‘Mamma?’

  ‘Yes, honey.’

  ‘Read story?’

  ‘I can’t, baby. I’m sorry. Mamma has to work.’ Jenna shoved all thoughts of Nick aside as best she could and tried to focus on her here and now. The never-ending guilt of the working mother seeped through her—trying to create a successful life for both of them versus spending precious time with her child. At least this way she could try to do both. Or do both badly…. The guilt was suffused by an overwhelming love for the little girl who had been the only reason she hadn’t followed Ollie to an early grave.

  Evie’s large eyes narrowed as she pouted. ‘Read story, Mamma.’

  Jenna looked up from the laptop on the counter. ‘Why don’t you tell Teddy a story, Evie? What would you tell him?’

  Evie pressed her lips together as she thought, earnestly. ‘Hmmm. About a girl called Evie?’

  Of course. Jenna’s heart melted. ‘Yes, darling, tell him a story about a brilliantly clever girl called Evie. Mamma needs to sort out a few things, make some calls and look after anyone who comes into the shop. Okay?’

  ‘Okay, Mamma.’

  Bridget had gone for an early dinner with Anjini. Chloe had gone off to visit Vaughn at the restaurant and speak to Tyler about the breakin suspect. That left Jenna to run the shop, do the childcare and ring around the list of all the celebrants she’d googled who lived in a twenty-five-mile radius.

  She was starting to get desperate. Only a couple of weeks to go and no one would agree to performing the ceremony. So far, the calls had all gone in a similar vein: yes, they were available. Yes, they could come to Notting Hill. No, not if the bride and groom didn’t know.

  A new name had popped up in the search engine since the last time she’d looked. Andrew Frame. Celebrant. For all stages of life.

  She visited his website. Middle-aged gentleman. A photo of him and a little dog by his side in what looked like his back garden. Nice smile. Kind eyes. Hair a little wayward, in a goofy mad-professor kind of way. A little rotund, but avuncular. She called him, but the phone rang straight to voice mail. So she sent him an email giving the facts straight out—no point in beating about the bush at this stage. She pressed send, closed her eyes and crossed her fingers. ‘Please, please say yes.’

  ‘Yes.’

  A man’s voice, loud and in the room.

  ‘What the hell!’ Nick? Again. Her heart jumped straight into the uneven rhythm it always did when he was around. He’d come in to the shop and she hadn’t heard him, and now he was standing there, holding a large cardboard box in front of his uniform. ‘Wow. Do they teach you how to sneak up on people in the services?’

  ‘Yes, they do. That’s kind of how it works, the element of surprise and all that.’

  ‘Ah, yes, I suppose it is.’ Her mind’s eye flicked to the contents of the paper bag in her tote, high on the shelf in the office. Her mouth suddenly became dry. ‘To what do I owe this pleasure?’

  ‘Tell me what I’m saying yes to first.’ Could a man have sparkling eyes? Because right now the brown of his looked pretty gorgeous with the flecks of caramel and golds catching the light.

  She tried not to concentrate too much on them. ‘Oh, I’ve emailed a celebrant about Chloe and Vaughn’s wedding.’

  ‘Oh yes. The infamous wedding.’ The way he said it sounded just like everyone else’s reaction.

  ‘Please don’t be negative. I’m nearly there. Kind of. Well, I’ll still have a lot to sort out on the day, but I have most things in order. I need to think about music. Do you know any one good at that kind of thing?’

  His eyebrows rose. ‘Normally I’d suggest you ask the bride and groom for their favourite songs, anything with special meaning, but other than that, I don’t know. Just brainstorm some popular wedding songs, that should do it.’

  ‘Hey, I could ask all the guests to send me their favourite songs. Genius.’

  ‘Indeed. Great idea. You could do a mix-tape. You know, a digital version, but same principle.’

  ‘Ah, and play it on what? I don’t have a music system. I was thinking of lugging my speakers to the venue, but they’re not very loud, not when there’s people chattering and definitely not loud enough for dancing.’

  ‘And you need dancing? Of course you do. It’s a wedding.’ He thought for a moment as he placed the box onto the counter along with his uniform jacket. ‘I could ask at work. We have a PA we use for events, recruitment evenings, that kind of thing. They might let you hire it, or even borrow it for free.’

  ‘Oh, thank you! You’re a regular knight in shiny police uniform.’ She stretched across the counter and brushed her lips against his cheek—a superficial gesture and words that suddenly seemed loaded with meaning. How many times did she need to tell herself to keep this in friendly territory? And how many times did she need to show her daughter that women could do anything they wanted, they didn’t need a man to help? She froze. ‘I… I mean—’

  ‘Hey, glad to help.’ He was so close. So very close. Close enough for her to catch his scent in the air and wish she was bathed in it. To feel the warmth of his breath on her neck and wish his mouth was there instead.

  If she tilted her head just a little, she could brush her lips against his mouth instead of his cheek.

  The realisation sent her stomach into a frenzy of butterflies. He was a good man, and she was fighting every step of the way not to take things deeper, further. Further than she’d been prepared to go for a very long time. For so long her head had been filled with surviving, bringing up her daughter, worry. Now it was just filled with him.

  He stepped back. ‘Okay. Good.’

  Her throat didn’t seem to work very well. ‘Right. What’s in the box?’

  ‘You need to get that bell fixed, and luckily for you, I have just the thing.’ Smiling at last, he reached into the box and pulled out a smaller white box. ‘Here. Plus a new lock for the back door and an alarm.’

  ‘Thank you, but the locksmith changed the locks the other day and the glazier replaced the glass.’ She bit her lip, trying not to be overwhelmed by the gesture. ‘You don’t have to rescue me. I’m fine.’

  ‘Okay. No problem. But an alarm? Did you get one of those? And a bell for the front door. Clearly you haven’t fixed that.’

  ‘I was waiting until I earned a bit more cash before I put in an alarm.’

  ‘Consider this a thank you gift then for helping me move into my apartment. It’s a whole security system that you control with an app. It has cameras I can mount in here and in the office and out the back door as well as the front. And the locking system has a touchscreen deadbolt.’

  ‘Nothing simple then? Do I need a master’s degree to work it?’ She still wanted to kiss him. So much.

  ‘No, you’ll be fine. But, unfortunately, simple doesn’t stop the bad guys, Jenna. I need you and Evie to be safe.’ Need? She saw the moment he realised what he’d said. His head shook minutely, as if checking himself, berating for allowing feelings to escape his famous clinical resolve. ‘I mean, it’s London, stuff happens. You can’t be too ca
reful.’

  ‘It’s okay. Thank you. Thanks so much.’

  ‘No.’ He put the box down and looked at her, his gaze intense. ‘You know what? I do need you to be safe. Okay?’

  Okay. Wow.

  ‘You have a little girl, and I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to either of you. So, you’ll have a security system I’m satisfied with.’

  She didn’t know what to say. Tears pricked her eyes. No one had ever been so concerned about her and Evie’s wellbeing.

  ‘Mamma?’ Evie stopped whispering to the teddy bear and crawled out from the castle. ‘Who dat man?’

  Grateful for the distraction, Jenna scrubbed her cheek with her hand and went over to her daughter. ‘This is Nick. He’s my friend.’

  Nick swallowed, his shoulders relaxing, and waved. ‘Hey, Evie. Cool castle.’

  ‘Not pink. It’s proper castle.’ She tugged proudly on the painted turreted fabric and the pop-up tent swayed precariously.

  ‘There are tons of princess castles, all pink and flouncy, but Evie wanted what she called a real one. Like her friend Max at nursery school has,’ Jenna explained.

  ‘Too right. You should have whatever castle you want.’ He crouched down to have a look inside. ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘Teddy. I reading a story.’

  ‘Cool. What’s it about?’

  Evie crawled in, grabbed her book and crawled back out. ‘It’s a book about Evie.’

  ‘There’s a book about Evie? About you?’ He took it from her and looked at the cover.

  Once her ovaries had stopped jumping up and down as she watched Nick chatting to her daughter, Jenna started to explain. ‘You get them made with your child’s name—oh.’ A woman had walked into the shop. A customer. ‘Nick, would you mind reading to Evie?’

  His smile fell. He looked terrified. ‘What? Me? Her? Book?’

  ‘Yes. It’s not difficult.’

  ‘Negotiating with rebel insurgents isn’t difficult. Living for months in the desert on crap rations isn’t difficult. Doing this…’ He held the book up. ‘Is beyond difficult.’

  ‘You’ll survive.’ For a few minutes, Jenna had to leave them to it and hoped they’d get on together.