Jessie Slaymaker's Rules of Engagement (The Jessie Slaymaker Series Book 2)

by Iles, Jo

  Jack felt like he had his fingers eternally crossed, praying that he hadn’t made a huge mistake. This place, although finished to a high standard, had a rugged feel with its open brickwork and exposed ceiling. It didn’t have the glitz and razzmatazz that a lot of the bars in Soho had. They were all trying to be super-sophisticated champagne and cocktail bars, espousing elegance and class. This place was raw in comparison. It was the kind of bar where you expected to see liquor-drinking modern day Mad Men types, drinking all day long but never getting drunk.

  Jack was also nervous because he held a small glimmer of hope that Jessie would be there. He hadn’t explicitly told her it was opening night, but he expected her to have noticed the posters and flyers that had been littered about the city heralding the opening of a new bar. He’d also done something of a PR job, making sure that several members of her bank were in the loop and on the VIP guest list. He’d even made sure her building had received a huge wad of flyers for the foyer and mailboxes. Jessie had sent him a short and to-the-point thank-you text for the flowers, but that had been the entirety of the contact between them since he’d helped her move her final things into her apartment. He didn’t really know what to say, and hoped by some stroke of luck that she found her way to his bar that night. A different environment might help them both find the right words to overcome their differences.

  As much as he’d tried to shut Jessie out of his mind, he couldn’t do it, not for any significant length of time. He found himself wanting to share everything he was doing with her, to ask for her opinions—from the layout of the drinks menus to what the best spreadsheet would be for stock checks. Jack missed her. He missed her smile, her smell, her support and affection. He even missed her for her occasional meltdowns on her grumpy days. He desperately wanted to know what she would think of this new endeavour of his and what she would make of his choices. Above all, he wanted her to be impressed with him—to see him as more than the layabout rich boy she’d only known him as.

  Jack even wanted to make amends with how he’d handled the whole Sonia pregnancy situation. The minimal contact he’d had with Jessie during the time they’d spent apart had made him realise that he wanted Jessie back in his life. If she was somehow delivered to him tonight, then he was determined to stomach a compromise and to find a way to make things right between them. After his blip of feeling sorry for himself and momentarily lost, he knew that he wanted Jessie back. Whatever it cost him.

  Chapter 28

  It was Saturday evening and Jessie was exhausted. In a bid to show off her new city to Tom, she’d dragged him all over the place, attempting to cram in as much as humanly possible. They’d been up the Peak, taken the ferry across the harbour, had afternoon tea at the Peninsula Hotel, walked down the Avenue of Stars in search of Bruce Lee’s handprints, and even done a spot of shopping in one of the exclusive malls that peppered the city. She was dead on her feet. Tom, on the other hand, seemed not the least bit tired. He’d been taking in everything that she showed him with a wide-eyed, almost childlike, enthusiasm.

  ‘Let’s go out,’ Tom announced excitedly.

  ‘What?’ Jessie half-moaned. She was splayed out on her sofa, enjoying what she regarded as a well-deserved pit stop before she started on dinner.

  ‘Come on, you heard me. We need a night out on the town,’ Tom persuaded.

  ‘Do we?’ Jessie asked, sounding less than half convinced.

  ‘Have I told you how proud I am of you?’ Tom cajoled, pulling out his best puppy dog eyes. ‘I know things haven’t turned out here exactly as you’d expected, but you’re carving out the makings of a brilliant life for yourself here. That’s hard, and I think you’re incredibly brave.’

  ‘Yeah, and I think you’re laying it on a bit thick. What do you want to do?’ Jessie asked, dragging herself off the sofa to get some water. If she was going out—and that was a big if—then she needed to hydrate.

  As she filled a glass, a little voice in the back of her mind reminded her that this weekend was supposed to be about Tom. And as soon as she thought it, she knew she’d already been defeated. She could rest when he was gone, she told herself as she chugged down water.

  ‘I’m hurt you think I would pay you such compliments, merely so I can get my own way,’ Tom responded dramatically, placing a hand on his heart to emphasise his earnestness. ‘I meant every word.’

  ‘Thanks, Tom,’ Jessie said, as she fought the urge to roll her eyes. ‘That truly means a lot to me,’ she added, mirroring her hand on her heart and giving him her most earnest eyes in return.

  ‘Now, to answer your earlier question about what I have in mind… hmm… let me think. Now you come to mention it, there is a new bar opening that sounds like fun. I saw flyers being bandied round left, right, and centre back at my hotel.’

  ‘A party?’ Jessie asked dubiously. ‘Tom… I’m not sure.’

  ‘Oh, come on. Don’t be a spoilsport. You haven’t heard the best bit yet.’

  ‘Oh, right. And what’s that?’ Jessie asked, sounding wholeheartedly unenthusiastic about the prospect of a party.

  ‘It’s fancy dress,’ Tom answered, sheer unadulterated glee in his eyes.

  ‘No. No way. What are we—five?’ Jessie said, folding her arms across her chest in an I’m-putting-my-foot-down-on-this-one stance. She wanted Tom to enjoy himself and have a nice time whilst he was visiting her, but there were limits. A fancy dress party being one of them.

  ‘Oh, Jess, it’ll be fun. My concierge says fancy dress parties are all the rage here. It’ll be a good chance to network. And you never know who you might bump into,’ Tom said, clearly trying to appeal to Jessie’s rational side.

  She pondered his words for a few moments. He did have a point: it wasn’t like she’d met a huge amount of people since she’d arrived, and having outgoing and gregarious Tom there with her would make things a lot easier.

  ‘Alright, Thomas. Suppose for one second I entertain your idea about going to a fancy dress party at my age. What do you propose we wear? I haven’t got a clue where to find a costume shop at such short notice. Plus, if these fancy dress parties are all the rage, as you claim, there’s not likely to be much good stuff left, now is there?’ Jessie pointed out, sure Tom wouldn’t have an answer.

  ‘Well, I thought it was rather obvious, really. I’ll put my tuxedo on and go as James Bond, of course,’ Tom said, adjusting his cuffs and channelling Daniel Craig already. ‘And as for you, I’m not entirely sure,’ he mused. ‘But I’ll have a look at what you’ve got and come up with something.’ He walked over to her wardrobe for a rifle.

  ‘You seriously brought your tux, you nut?’ Jessie asked, her eyebrows hitting the ceiling.

  ‘One never knows when one may be needing formal attire, my dear. It’s always best to be prepared.’

  ‘I’m going to need wine for this,’ Jessie said, grabbing last night’s glasses off the draining rack and pulling out a bottle from the fridge. It was a good job she’d stocked up prior to Tom’s visit. The good thing—and maybe the bad thing—about living in a studio apartment, was that she could see exactly what Tom was up to, even whilst she struggled with the cork in the wine bottle. The man sure knew his way around a woman’s closet, that was for sure.

  ‘Looking for anything in particular?’ Jessie called to him. He was wearing a face of concentration as he discounted a top and screwed up his face at a pair of white jeans.

  ‘I’ll know it when I see it,’ he mumbled. Jessie returned to the sofa, her full wine glass being her statement accessory of the moment, and let the man work.

  ‘I’ve got nothing to wear,’ Jessie said, sipping her wine. She was pretty sure even Tom couldn’t work his styling magic with her predominantly work-oriented wardrobe.

  ‘I’ve got it,’ he announced proudly after two more minutes of sifting. He pulled out Jessie’s beloved and never-worn Victoria Beckham dress with a triumphant look on his face. ‘What about this?’ he asked, holding up her lovely dress.


  ‘I don’t think so,’ Jessie said automatically.

  ‘Why not?’ Tom asked, his face crestfallen, like she’d taken away his favourite toy. ‘It still has the price tag on it. A dress like this needs wearing, Jessie Slaymaker, not hiding away in the recesses of your cupboard.’

  ‘I don’t disagree, but I can’t wear it. My boss has the same dress. Plus, if I wore that, who would I be dressing up as?’

  ‘Nonsense. So what if your boss has it. Is she going to be there? And if she is, she’s hardly likely to be wearing this, is she? You could probably do the maths, but I’d say there’s a low probability of that happening. And as for who you’d be dressing up as, you’d be going as Victoria Beckham, of course. Put some big sunglasses on, this dress, and some killer heels, and you’ve got a fancy dress outfit. I could even give you a bob haircut if you like, circa Posh Spice 1997.’

  ‘I’m not sure that’ll be necessary,’ Jessie replied, tugging her locks a little fearfully. When Tom got a style idea he could sometimes turn into a bit of a runaway train, and she had no doubt he’d quite happily get scissor-happy with her tresses.

  ‘So what do you say, Jessie?’ he asked expectantly.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ she replied weakly after a pause.

  ‘Look, Jess, it’s Saturday night. Don’t get cold feet. You can’t stay in on a Saturday night and settle yourself in on the sofa like a freaking grandma. I saw some of the TV at the hotel, and I can assure you there’s nothing on there that you’ll remotely want to see. You’re too young to be doing that kind of thing. Come out and have some fun with me. If you don’t, it’ll be tragic. You’ll be tragic.’

  ‘Tragic?’ Jessie repeated.

  ‘Yes, tragic. And I can’t have a best friend who’s tragic. A single man about town like me can’t afford for my street cred to be wiped out by having a tragic stay-at-home-on-a-Saturday-night best friend.’

  ‘Guess I’ll just have to come out then,’ Jessie said, smiling nervously. She felt a little bit bullied into this, but, quoting one of Tom’s trademarked phrases, what was the worst that could happen? As long as he kept his mitts off her hair, she’d be alright.

  Chapter 29

  ‘Is this the place?’ Jessie asked as she struggled out of the taxi. Tom had selected a pair of ridiculously high heels for her, heels she’d bought on a whim when she didn’t know if her lost luggage would ever materialise. The shoes, coupled with her dark glasses and an uneven pavement, made the simple task of getting out of a taxi and walking a couple of paces something akin to putting a man on the moon. Not impossible, but far from straightforward.

  ‘Think so,’ Tom replied, nodding to a guy dressed as a pirate, presumably not his usual garb. Then noticing Jessie was faffing, he effortlessly swooped round to her side of the car, looking all debonaire and swish, every inch a James Bond rake. There was no denying he wore a tuxedo well. He beamed his straight white teeth at her, and he had a glint in his eye which made Jessie briefly wonder why. Then that thought disappeared from her mind as she concentrated all her efforts on navigating her way up a couple of steps.

  ‘I don’t know how VB does this,’ Jessie muttered under her breath, feeling like an old lady as she leaned on Tom for support.

  Tom guided her into the bar and they were led to a high table off to one side. Jessie scanned her surroundings and saw that Tom had brought her to a cool place. She wasn’t sure the fancy dress thing was entirely necessary, but the bar was nice. It was all dark wood and brickwork, and had a nice atmosphere. It was a place where she’d be comfortable whiling away a few hours with Tom until she could go home.

  ‘What’s the name of this place again?’ Jessie asked, raising her voice at Tom over the music. She was glad to be perched rather than having to cope with being on her stilts, but sitting on a stool meant she had to concentrate on her posture. It was literally impossible to slouch in her tight VB dress, and she fidgeted in her seat, trying to find a comfortable position.

  ‘Sit still,’ Tom scolded. ‘You look great. And to answer your question, it’s called Greene’s. Spelt with an e.’

  ‘That’s funny,’ Jessie mused, as a waitress placed two glasses of champagne down in front of them.

  ‘Why?’ Tom asked, taking a sip and pulling a not bad face at his drink. Tom was something of a champagne snob.

  ‘That’s my mother’s maiden name. I know it’s not uncommon, but I haven’t come across it much,’ she commented, taking a sip of perfectly chilled bubbly. Then she took another sip and another. Just to check.

  ‘You don’t like it?’ Tom asked at her perplexed face. ‘Do you want a different drink?’

  ‘No, it’s fine. Lovely, in fact. I think it’s my favourite one.’

  ‘Hmm,’ was all Tom said, as all of a sudden a piece of invisible lint on his tux required his completely undivided attention.

  ‘Tom,’ Jessie said firmly, studying his every movement. ‘What is this place?’

  ‘Isn’t it obvious?’ Tom replied, finally meeting her eye, flicking that piece of imaginary lint away.

  ‘No, it’s not. But I feel like you’re not telling me something. And don’t answer a question with a question,’ Jessie replied, feeling her irritation levels start to climb.

  ‘You’re a clever woman, Jessie. Put it together. Your mother’s maiden name, your favourite champagne. Not to mention the countless other Jessie-inspired details around the place that you’ll discover soon enough.’

  ‘Huh… Jack’s done this?’ Jessie said slowly. It was a half-exclamation, half-question.

  ‘Don’t sound that surprised when you see him, for God’s sake,’ Tom warned. ‘If I were you, I’d say something like, “Jack, I can’t believe how well you’ve done. I’m sorry we fought. I love you, so let’s not let that Sonia bitch come between us again,” before you smother him in kisses, I suppose. Or something similar would do.’

  ‘Thanks, Tom,’ Jessie said snippily, as she made ready to leave. She didn’t like the idea of Tom orchestrating her love life.

  ‘Oh, don’t be missy,’ Tom said, placing a firm hand on her forearm. ‘I did this for your own good. You can’t be mooning around all the time waiting for something to happen to you, when you’ve got unfinished business with lover boy. You’ll have to see him sooner or later.’

  ‘I suppose,’ Jessie sighed eventually. Maybe Tom had a teeny-tiny point. But that didn’t stop her from shooting him one of her best evil looks, although through her sunglasses the impact was considerably diminished.

  But now she had something else to worry about. What would she say to Jack if she saw him? What if he didn’t even want her to be here? It wasn’t like he’d invited her.

  ‘Oh streuth!’ Jessie exclaimed angrily as she lowered her eyes and tried to become invisible. Something, or rather someone, had provided a monumental distraction from her internal worries over Jack.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Tom asked, a note of irritation in his voice.

  ‘You remember when you said that it was unlikely my boss would be here? Well, she is.’

  ‘Is she wearing the same dress as you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So, there’s no problem, then. What has she come as?’ Tom asked, turning around in his chair to try and clock a glimpse of the woman who had been making Jessie’s work life difficult.

  ‘Barbie,’ Jessie replied, deadpan. That clearly was not what Tom had been expecting her to say, as he spluttered his champagne down his chin.

  ‘You’re joking,’ Tom said, wiping up his spillage with a napkin. When he’d done choking he looked around again and cast his critical eye over Barbie. Barbie Rachel was chatting away to a circle of girlfriends, clad in a pink PVC minidress. Aside from her blonde locks, she looked the complete antithesis to how she usually dressed for work. ‘Well, that nickname is going to stick,’ Tom added, rolling his eyes.

  ‘Do you think she’s lovely?’ Jessie asked. She hated to sound so insecure, but if she couldn’t be insecure with Tom, then she co
uldn’t be insecure for the briefest moment with anyone.

  ‘Who? Barbie?’ Tom asked, his eyebrows going skywards as he pulled a suitably disgusted face. ‘You must be joking. She looks trampy as hell. Honestly. Barbie… ugh.’

  ‘You should see her at work. She’s smart and sophisticated. And she has everyone wrapped around her little finger. All she has to do is stick her inflated chest in someone’s eye line and hey presto! She gets whatever it was she wanted. Do you think I’d suit being a blonde?’

  ‘Don’t you even think about it. You’re… well… you’re…’ Tom said, stumbling to find an adjective.

  ‘I’m what?’ Jessie asked, filling the gap. ‘Pretty? In a pale and interesting sort of way? Nice?’

  ‘What I’m trying to say is, she’s not a patch on you, Jesserella. You’re bloody gorgeous and in an infinitely different league altogether than that Barbie girl. Now, are you done fishing for compliments?’

  ‘Yes,’ Jessie said, feeling only slightly scolded. It was nice to hear a compliment. She hadn’t heard one for what felt like a long time. Even if it did come from one of the most biased men in the world, as far as she was concerned, it was still very welcome.

  ‘Oh my God. Is that who I think it is?’ Jessie said loudly.

  ‘Who? What now?’ Tom asked, whipping his head around to follow Jessie’s eye line. When he clocked what she was looking at, his jaw dropped slightly. ‘That stunning beefcake?’

  ‘Yep, the guy who’s come as Troy. Well, Brad Pitt from the Troy movie interpretation. What part did he play again?’ Jessie asked absentmindedly as she tried not to stare at the man’s bulging biceps. They were huge.