by Jess Dee
Big Jack shook his head. “Parker signed?”
“He did.”
“Then you’re in trouble. He’s a good client, a steadfast one. He’s not going to give up the shop now.”
That pretty much mirrored what Parker had told him over the phone on the way to the hospital. “I thought I might show Miss Jones another of your properties.”
“Which one?”
“I have no idea. Which one would you recommend?”
“The New South Head shop is the only one I have in Rose Bay. The next closest property is office space in Bondi Junction.”
Jack pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumbs and swore under his breath. This was so not going the way he’d hoped. Parker had refused to break the contract. He may not have known about the shop in the first place, but once he’d seen it, he’d refused to let it go.
Miss Jones was going to be hopping mad.
While Jack regretted screwing her around—no matter that he’d done it inadvertently—he kind of looked forward to seeing her hopping mad. The striking Amazonian warrior would have a few choice threats to throw his way. And Jack looked forward to hearing each and every one of them.
* * *
“Are you kidding me?” Claire stared at the man before her, dumbfounded. “You want me to do what?” She hoped to God he couldn’t see any sign of her erratic heart, which slammed into her chest as she struggled to keep her wits and her hormones about her.
“Come for a drive with me. I promise you won’t regret it.”
She took a deep breath, drew herself up to her tallest height and spoke very patiently. “Mr. Wilson, I am here to sort out the lease to the shop in New South Head Road. I’m not interested in gallivanting around Sydney with you.”
Funny her voice could come out so patient, because her lungs weren’t working well and her palms had grown clammy. Reliving Jack’s kiss over and over had not prepared her for the reality of standing in front of the G.G. again. His physical presence hit her like a blow to the solar plexus, making breathing almost impossible.
He was even more striking than she remembered. Large, solid and so jam-packed full of muscle she suspected he’d be about as easy to move as a house.
Her crazy-ass female hormones were doing a crazy-ass happy dance at the sight of him, and her stomach dipped madly up and down. Much as she tried to convince herself it was a case of worry and anxiety that he may not have sorted the details out with the other tenant, she couldn’t quite believe it.
Her physical reaction to him had nothing to do with the shop and everything to do with the man. Even her pussy clenched, reminding her how close she’d come to orgasming on top of him yesterday.
“Look, I buggered things up yesterday, signing over a lease for a property that had already been promised to you, and I apologize for that. How about we start again, Miss Jones? From the beginning. Let’s do it right this time.”
She didn’t need to start again. She needed to know he’d made things right with the lease.
He stuck out his hand. “Hello. I’m Jack Wilson, grandson of Big Jack Wilson. While he’s in hospital I’ll be looking after his business. And you are?”
Really? They were really doing this? Standing on the footpath outside Wilson Property Management offices, where Mr. Wilson had headed her off before she could even enter the building.
She raised an eyebrow. “Big Jack?”
Jack grinned. “My childhood name for my pop. Now, c’mon,” he coaxed. “Humor me. I screwed up. I only want to make things right. In whatever way I can.”
So long as it meant he was giving her the store, Claire was willing to go along with anything. “It’s good to meet you. I’m Claire Jones. I had an appointment with your grandfather yesterday, but he couldn’t make it.” She hesitated then, getting sidetracked. “How is your grandfather?”
He nodded. “He’s much better today. A different person from the man who was rushed to emergency.” His smile was big, and she sensed immense relief in his answer.
“I’m glad to hear that. And I hope he continues to recover. Please pass along my regards to him, Mr. Wilson.”
“Jack.”
“Jack?”
“Call me Jack. I’m Mr. Wilson ten months of the year. For now, I’d really like the freedom of being Jack.”
Cryptic response. Still Claire hesitated, not sure she felt comfortable addressing him by his first name. At least if she addressed him as “Mr.” she could keep him at some kind of emotional distance.
“You could always call me Little Jacky, like my pop does.”
Claire repressed a snort. “Little?”
His eyes twinkled. “Hey, I was young when he gave me the name.”
“I think I’ll stick with Jack.” There was no way she could call him “Mr.” after that. “Please call me Claire.”
“Claire it is. Nice name, by the way. It suits you.”
She considered responding…for all of two seconds. Jack was way too appealing to her senses. If she responded to his personal comments, she’d never get any work done. She’d be too focused on the man and not the business at hand. And knowing her, she’d trip and fall on him all over again—although this time it would be quite deliberate. And if she fell on him deliberately and broke his leg or arm as a result, she’d never live it down.
“So, Jack. Instead of taking a trip in your car, why don’t we head into your office and see about signing that lease?”
“Nope, a trip in my car is a way better idea. And far more productive. I swear it.”
“Is the lease in your car?”
Jack nodded. “There is a lease in my car. And as soon as we arrive at our destination, I will give it to you.”
“Your office—”
He cut her off. “No can do. The office is being fumigated. We can’t go in there.”
Uh, why did she not believe him? “Fine, then let’s head over to the coffee shop across the road. That’ll do fine.”
He shook his head. “Again, I have to nix the idea. Look, there’s a property I need to see over in Mosman today, and I figured I could kill two birds with one stone. I could view the place while you and I talk about the New South Head shop.”
Claire had no idea what made her agree—probably a desire to spend more time with Jack—but she finally nodded and allowed him to place his hand on her elbow and guide her to his car.
The hand on her elbow wasn’t close to enough. She wanted his hand on her—
No, she didn’t. She didn’t want his hand anywhere near her. Regardless of the speed her heart raced or the clamminess of her palms or the recurrent flashbacks to the kiss they’d shared, she didn’t want to even think about Jack Wilson in that way.
What happened between them had been an…anomaly. Yes. Perfect description. She’d fallen on him—or been pulled, she still wasn’t sure—and he, in his grief and shock had responded on instinct, reaching out to the closest person he could to find comfort. That must have been all he’d been seeking. Comfort during a difficult time. Everyone needed consolation when a loved one took ill. Everyone needed a way to work through one’s grief. His kissing her was just that. Nothing more. And if she did make anything more of it, she’d only mess up an already messy property negotiation.
Once he’d ensured she was comfortably seated in his Ford Territory, he set off in the direction of the Harbour Tunnel, with the car radio playing soft rock in the background.
“Thanks for coming with me. I’m excited to see this shop. The lease is coming up for renewal, and the current renters aren’t interested in re-signing. Since it’s in the heart of Mosman, on Military Road, it’s a sought-after address. There’s going to be a lot of interest generated as soon as we put up a notice about it.”
Claire wasn’t interested in the Mosman shop, but she could hardly be rude. Besides, if she made small talk and got to know Jack a little better, the lease negotiations might be more amenable. “Who’s renting it now?”
“Two women who sell h
andmade jackets. Very expensive, very exclusive.”
“Nice gear?”
He shrugged. “Never seen it. As I said, this is Big Jack’s business. I’m watching it while he recuperates.”
“What do you do when your grandfather is well enough to look after his own business?” She’d be willing to lay money on his answer being something sports related. A professional footy player, or something similar.
“I’m a teacher.”
“You are?” She tried to temper her surprise. Sports coach maybe?
“Yep. Teach high school English and History.”
She gaped at him. “I had you pegged as a professional sportsman.”
“Nah, not me. I play rugby with my mates on the weekend and coach a Uni team on Tuesday evenings, but my kids are my true passion.” His face lit up with genuine affection. “They give me a tough time sometimes, but they’re worth the effort I put into them. And they seem to like me too, so it’s a win-win situation.”
Claire put two and two together. “It’s school holidays now, so you have time off?”
“A little. Enough that I can help my pop out for a couple of weeks. No one else could. My parents couldn’t get time off from their law practice, and my brother is in Perth. I’d like to do all the drudge work while he’s recovering. Visit properties, sort out rent issues, leave him the easy bits he can do from home, or at least without leaving the office.”
Claire went all squishy inside. Jack sure knew how to look out for his grandfather. Taking care of his business while the old man was in hospital, doing all the physical stuff so Jack Sr. didn’t have to. That kind of caring appealed to a woman in a big way. Well, okay, it appealed to Claire in a big way.
“When does he get out of hospital?” Judging from Jack’s shock earlier, his grandfather was a very sick man.
“I’m guessing within the week. But then he goes back in two months for surgery.”
“He’s having surgery?”
He nodded. “A triple bypass.”
“Shit,” Claire muttered. “That’s a huge deal.”
“‘Specially for an eighty-two-year-old. The doc said it’ll be about six weeks before he’s back to normal.”
Claire frowned. “I’m sorry, Jack. That can’t be easy for anyone. A man of his age is going to find it even harder.”
“I know. I’m trying not to worry about him, but it’s difficult. We’re close, my pop and me. I hate the idea of him being unwell.”
Much as she wanted to reassure him, she couldn’t. She really had no idea whether his grandfather would be okay or not. If it were anyone else, she’d give their hand a supportive squeeze and offer to help in any way she could. But with Jack, both of those gestures would be inappropriate. She settled for saying the only thing she could. “It’s a shitty situation. For you and your grandfather.”
“That it is,” he agreed. “That it is.” He lapsed into silence.
Claire didn’t push him further. She sat quietly as he lost himself in his thoughts. But sitting in silence made her all too aware of where she sat—beside him, in his car.
Jack took up a lot of space. His SUV, no small car by anyone’s standards, seemed to have halved in size when he got in. His seat was pushed back as far as it could go, giving him room to stretch his legs to the pedals. Whenever he braked or accelerated—which yes, was all the time—Claire had to force herself not to look at the flexing of his muscle in his thigh. Or at the long, slim fingers handling the wheel.
Though she pretended she wasn’t affected by his proximity, it was hard to deny his presence. Hard to ignore that woodsy, sexy scent of his. Hard to forget that one day ago he’d kissed her senseless in the empty shop.
“I haven’t forgotten, you know,” he said softly.
“Forgotten what?”
“The kiss. Yesterday.” He touched a finger to his lip, as though remembering what he’d done with that lip the day before.
Holy shit. Had he read her mind? She snapped her mouth shut and refused to answer him. Not going there. Not stepping into that minefield.
“Just because we haven’t discussed it, doesn’t mean it never happened. We kissed, on the floor of the Rose Bay shop, and it damn near blew my mind.”
Shop. She hooked on the word. “Talking about the shop, are we going to go back there after this? It’s not necessary. We can sign the contract anywhere.”
“You’re changing the subject.”
“No. I’m focusing on the very reason I’m in the car with you now. Did you speak to the man who signed the lease yesterday? Tell him about the mistake?”
“You’re a coward, Claire Jones.”
“I’m a woman intent on getting the property I was promised. Did you speak to him?”
He smiled that same mystified smile he’d smiled yesterday. “We did speak. I spoke to Big Jack as well, who corroborated your story about coming to the shop to fill in the contract.” Before Claire could say anything, he asked, “Mind if I ask what you’re planning for the shop?”
Now look who changed the subject. Jack hadn’t even told her what the other leaser had said. “Not at all. I own a small, specialized children’s store. We sell kids’ books, toys and clothes.”
“I? Or we?”
“We. My two sisters and I. We have a shop in Clovelly, called Li’l Bits and Books, and now we’re looking to expand. The shop’s too busy. Business has grown since we added the clothing and toys to our inventory. We need more space and wider customer sales.”
“Since you added clothing and toys?”
Claire nodded. “We started out as a children’s bookshop, but with the explosion of eBooks and the collapse of the bigger book chains, stocking only print books wasn’t keeping us in business. We either had to expand our product range or close our doors. We chose to expand.”
“Successfully, I take it?”
“More successfully than any of us expected.” Claire, Maddie and Julia were all blown away by the shop’s sales.
“So now you’re opening up a second branch, also in the Eastern suburbs?”
Claire shrugged. “Most of our customers are from Vaucluse, Rose Bay, Double Bay and Bellevue Hill. It makes sense to open up closer to them.”
“Even if they’re willing to travel to Clovelly?”
Claire nodded. “Even so.”
Jack guided the car through the tunnel. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to open up farther away? A fifteen or twenty minute drive isn’t going to deter customers from coming to your shop if they really want something from you. But half an hour or more might.”
“Our products are expensive. We’re targeting the market that could best afford it. A shop in New South Head Road is the perfect location.”
Jack cocked his head to the side. “What about a shop a little farther out. Say, for example…across the bridge in Mosman. You’ll have a similar clientele, and driving out to Clovelly from there is a little too far for the average shopper.”
Claire almost laughed. “Our shop is doing well. But we’re not at a place where we can afford rentals in an area like Mosman. The cost would cut too deeply into our profits. Now, what happened when you spoke to—”
Jack suddenly leaned forward. “Damn, I love this song.” He turned the car radio volume up, making further conversation difficult, then proceeded to sing along with Coldplay at the top of his lungs.
Damn it, he’d done it again. Changed the subject when she tried to ask about the lease. And what a way to change the subject this time.
Claire couldn’t help her graceless snort as Jack’s voice filled the car. The G.G. might be built, gorgeous and supremely fuckable, but he was no vocalist. His flat, toneless singing was so off-key Claire could barely recognize the song.
She slapped a hand over her mouth to prevent any further inappropriate responses, but couldn’t help snickering as he hit the chorus, out of tune and off beat.
Jack stopped singing and looked at her. “Are you laughing at me?”
Claire didn
’t dare answer, nor did she dare move her hand away from her mouth. Instead she shook her head and stared straight ahead, refusing to make eye contact. She couldn’t risk letting the laughter that bubbled inside her out.
“You are,” he accused. “You’re laughing at me.”
Another graceless snort erupted from her nose as she shook her head again.
He lowered the volume as he picked his way along Military Road. “Honestly? That’s how you respond to all the property managers you try to lease shops from? You laugh at them?”
“Only the ones who sing at the top of their voices while they have potential renters in the car.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my voice, I’ll have you know.”
Claire nodded primly. “So, what did you do with the money?”
His brow creased. “What money?”
“The money your mother gave you for singing lessons.”
His jaw dropped. “You did not go there.”
Laughter peeled out of her. She couldn’t hold it back anymore. “Apparently I did.”
“My students used to ask each other that.” He rolled his eyes. “When they were in primary school.”
“I bet your students sing better than you do.”
“They sing as well as I do, since I’m their music teacher too.”
Claire gaped at him. “You’re not.”
“Oh, nice. Not only do you mock my voice, now you trash my teaching abilities as well?”
“Tell me you don’t teach your kids music.”
His lips twitched. “I don’t teach my kids music. But as punishment for your blatant disbelief in my vocal ability, I’ll sing the rest of the way to the shop.”
And with that, he turned the radio back up and belted out his own inspired rendition of “Paradise”.
By the time he swung his car into a parking space, Claire had given up all pretense of holding back her mirth and was laughing out loud in his passenger seat.
Jack switched off the car, removed his seat belt, turned to her while still singing out of tune, and before she had a chance to paste a serious expression on her face, he swooped in and crushed his lip to hers.
