Feeling a delicious shudder of anticipation, she had stood almost immobilised by the bed as his hands roamed the contours of her body while his tongue had probed the inner sanctum of her mouth with a sensuous slowness that was beginning to drive her crazy. Allowing him to unzip her dress, she raised her arms obligingly as he lifted it over her head before pushing her back on the bed. Her eyes half closed as their arms and legs tangled together.
Nick unhooked her bra with the precision of the well-practised, and the sensation of skin against skin was almost more than she could bear but she was glad he’d left her panties on for the time being. For what they had cost her, she wanted him to get at least one good gawk at those babies before they hit the deck. To give credit where it’s due, he did look impressed as he paused mid-manoeuver before pulling them down and allowing her to shimmy free of them. He stood then and began undressing slowly to reveal a taut and defined body. He definitely worked out, Jess thought appreciatively as she shifted into a skinny position, hoping he wouldn’t notice that she definitely didn’t.
He moved alongside her and Jess felt a tension building inside her as his hands stroked gently between her legs. Her hand eagerly searched out his equipment—this was always the crucial moment, she thought as she homed in: would she be disappointed or pleasantly surprised? As her fingers sought, found, and closed around the package deal, she decided she wouldn’t be disappointed. Nick groaned and pulled away from her rhythmic stroke, leaning over to open the bedside cabinet drawers in search of a condom.
Thunderbirds, we are go, she thought, closing her eyes only to open them a moment later when nothing happened. Glancing down, she watched in horror as like a balloon deflating without the audible hiss, it was all over rover.
And so here they were, lying side by side like two naked strangers, drowning in a huge expanse of snowy linen. His bed was ridiculously oversized, Jess thought, risking a sideways glance. She felt a surge of pity at the sight of Nick’s normally confident features looking so uncertain. What had happened wasn’t his fault and as she had told herself earlier, these things did happen. Logic told her it had nothing to do with her but of course her ego wasn’t so sure. It was hard not to take it personally, she mused; still, she needed to be the bigger person and harden up. Oh God, she had it on the brain! Rolling onto her side, she raised herself up on to her hip and decided to be brave because she was not going to lie here in this uncomfortable silence any longer. “Nick, it’s really not a problem. These things happen and like you said, you have an awful lot of stress in your life at the moment, so if you would rather I left then I understand. Do you want me to go?” Her eyes were round green orbs as she looked at him, unsure as to how she would react if he told her he wanted her to go.
Nick shook his head emphatically, looking like a little boy who had lost the running race and forfeited first prize. “No, of course I don’t want you to go. I wanted tonight to be just right and it’s kind of humiliating, that’s all.” He managed a wry smile. “I am only thirty-nine-years old so I didn’t think I qualified for Viagra just yet but apparently I was wrong.”
“I’m sure it was just a one-off,” Jess soothed.
“I hope so.” His expression was woeful. “I can’t promise I will be good company.” Reaching over, he stroked her arm. “But I’d like you to stay and please believe me when I tell you that it is nothing to do with you. You are a beautiful woman, Jess, and what just happened is most definitely down to me, not you.”
Suddenly Jess didn’t care if they lived in harmonious celibacy for the rest of their days; it had been a long time since a man had showered her with such compliments. She wasn’t going anywhere.
“I’ve always been driven when it comes to business and I don’t know how or when to switch off.”
“I can imagine how high pressured your line of work is,” she soothed, stroking his cheek. Actually, she wouldn’t have a clue but it sounded good.
“You’re great, you know that, don’t you?” he said, planting a gentle kiss on the tip of her nose.
He stretched his arm out along the pillow in invitation and Jess moved under it, laying her head on his shoulder. Her body moulded into his and she relaxed, enjoying the sensation of being held—though not quite as much as she had been enjoying other sensations earlier. Still, she would take what she could get, she decided as her eyes grew heavy and began to close. The wine, the dinner, the Baileys, and her sexual misadventures had taken their toll and with a little sigh, Jess drifted into oblivion.
She knew it was early when she woke because she could hear the dawn song. She couldn’t remember the last time she had heard the birds in all their morning glory. The pigeons that congregated on the rail of her mock veranda of a morning weren’t exactly what you would call songbirds. Reaching across the bed for Nick, she began patting around and realising the space next to her was empty, her eyes popped open. Where was he? She listened out for sounds of life—a toilet flushing, a kettle boiling—but there was nothing bar the birds. Deciding to investigate, Jess got up and pulled last night’s dress back over her head before padding through the silent apartment to the kitchen. Sniffing for clues like Inspector Cloueseau, she deduced from the lingering aroma of coffee and toast that Nick had been up and then her eyes fixed on a note propped up against the kettle.
In the kind of precise handwriting she would have expected him to have, he informed her that he had to be on the road early as he had a meeting in Cork. He’d be back late afternoon, so he would phone her then. In the meantime, she was welcome to stay and make herself at home for the day.
Jess sighed. So there’d be no lingering breakfast followed by a spot of morning delight then. Glancing round the empty apartment with its minimalistic styling, she suddenly felt very lonely. Not even waiting to make a much-needed cup of coffee, she picked up the phone and called a cab. She wanted to go home.
***
Opening the door to her apartment, she stepped inside with relief that she hadn’t been subject to cat calls from Puff the Magic Dragon as she’d crossed the courtyard because she was not in the mood. He must be doing some work for a change, she decided, kicking the door shut behind her—that or he’d decided to pack in the smoking. Wandering into the lounge, Jess’s eyes swept the room with a stranger’s eye. How would Nick perceive the organised chaos that she liked to think of as home? Would he see her eclectic collection of treasures as just that or would he think of them as junk?
On the wall beside the antique oak sideboard Brianna and Nora had clubbed together to buy her for her thirtieth birthday, insisting she needed it to display her bits and bobs, was a set of six blue and white Tunisian tiles. When they were arranged together, they formed a picture of an urn. She had haggled for an age with a leathery-skinned man in forty degree heat whilst scooters swerved around her in a souk in the town of Monastir to buy them. The aroma of foreign spices had still been in her nostrils as she had marched back triumphantly to her hotel with her carefully wrapped parcel. When she looked at those tiles, she could still see the twinkle in that cunning old man’s brown eyes and in her head, she could still hear the early morning call to prayer that signified she was indeed somewhere very foreign.
Then there was the dainty Royal Doulton china cup and saucer set she had bought on a girl’s weekend down in Galway many moons ago. With a smile she recalled how she, Brianna, and Nora had had the kind of fun that only the young and single can have that weekend. She’d been wandering the town’s cobbled streets on the Saturday morning, nursing a sore head in search of greasy sustenance, when she’d found herself being drawn inside the dark and dusty antiques shop. As she had opened the door and a bell had rung somewhere near the back, she had half expected a pixie to materialise behind the counter. The little old woman who appeared a moment later had indeed been the proud owner of a set of pointy ears. Jess had been reminded of the little shop where the Wishing Chair in Enid Blyton’s stories had been discovered and though she hadn’t found a wishing chair of her own, she h
ad found the cup and saucer set.
She couldn’t help but think of Owen as her eyes settled on her latest acquisition—the Carlton Ware leaf dish. While he would give her a hard time about all the tat she had collected over the years, she knew that he would enjoy listening to the tales that went with them. She frowned, unsure if Nick would ever see the merit in anything second-hand.
Having made a good strong brew and followed it up with a hot shower, Jess dressed for comfort, not company, in her trusty elephant suit. She decided to shake the melancholic feeling that had settled over her for no particular reason that she could pinpoint, by firstly scoffing down what remained of the bar of chocolate from their girly night in. Then, she would phone Brianna and ask for her take on Nick’s little problem. Nothing was sacred between friends, she thought, breaking off the last square before picking up the phone.
Brianna was, as Jess had known instinctively, most sympathetic to her plight; it was why she had chosen to ring her and not Nora, who would have grilled her for hours on her bedroom technique.
“I know where you are coming from. It’s happened to Pete a couple of times—God, he’d kill me if he knew I was telling you—men are funny like that, aren’t they? It’s always been when he is under pressure at work, so don’t read anything into it, Jess. I know it’s really hard not to take it personally, though, because until Captain Pete is back at the helm, I can’t help but wonder if he has gone off me or something.”
Captain Pete? Jess didn’t want to pursue that one. “That’s exactly how I felt, even though I knew it was stupid.”
“Well, it was stupid because he is obviously smitten but what has your man so wound up anyway?”
Oh crap, now she’d done it. Did she tell her Nick was the driving force behind the proposed demolition of her community centre or just leave it? Jess chewed on a fingernail, deciding to take the easier option and leave it, muttering something instead about the finance he was trying to get together for the project he was working on not being straightforward.
“So are you going to see him again?”
“I hope so. He said he would phone me later today.”
“Well, that’s good, isn’t it?”
“He hasn’t phoned me yet.”
“It’s only ten in the morning, that’s why. Now what about organising this dinner at our place so I can meet him and be bowled over by his wonderfulness too?”
Jess cringed; she couldn’t keep Nick hidden away from Brie—she was one of her best friends, after all. No, if she wanted to keep on seeing him then she’d just have to bite the bullet and hope to hell that neither of them put two and two together.
“I’ll mention it to Nick this afternoon—when suits you and Pete?”
“What about Saturday night? It’s short notice but then our social life is sorely lacking these days.”
“So is mine because Saturday night is good for me too but I’ll let you know for definite once I’ve spoken to him. Oh and Brie, don’t mention our little chat to Nora, will you? You know what she’s like; she’ll go straight out and buy me a copy of the Kama Sutra or something.”
Brianna laughed. “You’re right, she would. Don’t worry. I won’t say a word.”
“Thanks.” Jess decided to change the subject. “Now then, how’s my favourite wee man?”
“Harry?”
“Who else?”
“Well, he might be your favourite young man but he is not mine. The little toad decided it would be a good idea to ask a lady at our local Tesco yesterday afternoon why she was so fat but he didn’t just leave it at that—oh no, not my Harry. Nope, he went on to ask her was she not making healthy choices in her shopping? The poor woman had a box of frozen cream puff eclairs in her hand at the time. Apparently Harry’s class has been learning all about making good choices when it comes to food. I was mortified.”
Jess was still laughing when the phone rang again two minutes later.
It was Nora wanting to know how her dinner date had gone. Jess glossed over the main event, thanking her friend for picking out her dress and telling her what she wanted to hear—that it had been fantastic. It was only a little white lie after all, she justified, because the foreplay had been amazing and she was fairly sure the rest of it would have been too, if Nick hadn’t got a puncture. Besides, she didn’t want to get into it again; what she really needed was some advice.
“Nora, you know how Brie’s involved in trying to save the Bray Community Centre that houses the play group she used to take Harry along to?”
“Yes, she mentioned it the other night. She’s pretty passionate about it.”
“I know—that’s the problem.”
“What’s the problem—I’m not with you?”
“Nick’s behind the proposed demolition of it.”
There was silence for a moment and then Nora exhaled loudly before uttering Jess’s earlier sentiment. “Crap.”
“My thoughts exactly. And now Brie’s insistent that I bring him round for dinner to meet her and Pete. She wasn’t keen on the little bit I had told her about him anyway but when she finds out it is his company wanting to knock the centre down, she’ll go mad. What do I do?”
“You’ll have to tell her because she is bound to find out sooner or later anyway. Besides, it is Brie’s problem, not yours. There is nothing not to like about Nick. He is successful, handsome, and charming—do I need to go on? Business is just that—business. It is not personal.”
It was true Nick was all those things, Jess thought, but Nora wasn’t finished yet.
“Brianna will just have to drop the bleeding hearts routine and get over it.”
It sounded harsh but Jess supposed she was right. “I guess so but the thing is I can see her side of things, too. It is sad how companies like Nick’s come along and knock the stuffing out of small communities by tearing down buildings that have been their hub for years. And all because money talks. It just doesn’t seem right.”
“Now you listen to me, Jess,” Nora said in that tone of hers that left no room for discussion. “Nick Jameson is the best thing that has come your way in a long time. Don’t go spoiling it for yourself by jumping on Brie’s soapbox. You know what she is like. By this time next month, she will have forgotten all about this community centre of hers and she will be signing up to save the fecking pigeon or some such thing.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean and in Nick’s defence, I have to say that I have never been wined and dined quite so thoroughly.” She sighed. “It was lovely but what if Brie doesn’t forget all about it this time?”
Nora had an urgent call come through and had to go, leaving Jess feeling perturbed because in the space of half an hour, she had more or less lied by omission to her two best friends about the man she was seeing. It was something she had never done before and it left a sour taste in her mouth. She didn’t get a chance to dwell on it, though, because no sooner had she hung up the phone than it rang again. Good God, she muttered, what is this place—a frigging Bombay call centre?
“Hello?” she snapped.
“Jess.” A wary voice greeted her. “How are you? It’s Owen.”
At the sound of his Northern twang, her mood brightened. “Owen, hi! I’m fine, how are you?” She didn’t give him a chance to answer, asking instead, “How’s Wilbur getting on?”
“Actually, that’s why I am calling. Wilbur’s sick.”
Chapter Fourteen
Owen had assured her down the phone that it was just a cold Wilbur had come down with but Jess knew that in an animal for which the odds had already been stacked against like Wilbur, a cold could be a serious thing.
“I’m sure he’ll pull through but I thought you’d want to know. I promised I’d keep you up to speed like.”
“I’m on my way,” she’d shrieked, hanging up on him before he could talk her round. Logic was telling her Wilbur was a pig and she was being ridiculous but logic had nothing to do with the swarm of emotions that had engulfed her upon hearing Owen’s vo
ice and the news that Wilbur was ill. She phoned Brianna for the second time that morning. It rang and rang and Jess tapped her foot impatiently, muttering, “Come on, Brie, pick up.” Until, at last she answered.
“Hello.” Brianna panted as though she had just finished the New York Marathon.
“Can I borrow your car?”
“Is that you, Jess?”
“Yes, sorry.”
“Bloody hell, I was on the loo—you know what my piles are like.”
Jess did indeed know all about Brianna’s post-childbirth five-years-of-hell piles but had no wish to get into a discussion about them at this moment in time.
“And the phone rang for so bleeding long I thought something must have happened at school with Harry so I had to get off. I only spoke to you five minutes ago. What’s the emergency?”
“Sorry, Brie, but it is an emergency. I just had a call to say that Wilbur’s sick, so I need to get up to Ballymcguinness again as soon as I can.”
“Who’s this Wilbur? I thought your man’s name was Owen and who told you that you have to get up there right away?”
“Brie!” Jess was impatient; she didn’t want a confab about it all—she just wanted to get up there. “Wilbur’s the piglet I told you all about. You know, the little runt like in Charlotte’s Web that I got to feed.”
“Oh right, I’m with you now, sort of.”
“Well, he’s sick and I have to get up there. Christ, if anything happens to him and I am not there!”
“Okay, Jess—are you listening to me?” Brianna snapped, not expecting an answer and if she were there, she would have given Jess a slap to bring her round; however, the silence down the other end of the phone satisfied her that she had her friend’s attention. “Take a deep breath—in through the nose and out through the mouth.”
Second Hand Jane Page 19
