by Kate Hardy
On Thursday, Mitch spent the day doing something he’d never thought he’d do.
Flat-hunting.
For a place where Jane would be much more comfortable—with a king-size bed and an en suite bathroom. She couldn’t stay where she was now, and as he wasn’t going to be around at least he could help her with this.
He started by checking local estate agencies on the Internet. Pages and pages of places that were too small or in the wrong area or didn’t have an en suite or were perfectly serviceable but—from what he’d seen of the house where she lived now—he didn’t think would be to Jane’s taste. Seeing as he lived out of a suitcase most of the time, he didn’t really care where he lived, but he knew that she did. A lot.
And then he hit gold.
The flat was close to where she lived now and had the right sort of layout. Better still, when he rang the agent to check if it was still going to be available, it turned out that the flat was vacant because previous tenants had just bought their first home; although they’d paid the rent until the end of the month to make sure they weren’t left in a mess if the deal fell through, they’d already moved out. If he took the flat this weekend they’d get some money back from the landlord. And he’d be able to get Jane settled in before he left for the States.
Everybody won.
‘I’d like to view it,’ he said.
‘Certainly, sir. When?’
He glanced at his watch. ‘I’ll be at your office in an hour. Sooner if I can make it through the traffic.’
And when he saw it, he knew it was the right place. Clean and well maintained. Ground floor, so she wouldn’t have to struggle with stairs. The previous tenants had been there for two years, so he could be confident that the neighbours were fine—if they weren’t, there would’ve been a much higher turnover of tenancies. No signs of damp. And, best of all, it was furnished: with a king-sized bed.
She’d be comfortable.
And near a bathroom.
‘Let’s go back to your office so I can look over the tenancy agreement.’
‘You want to take it?’ the estate agent asked, looking hopeful.
‘I think so. If I do take it, can I have the keys this afternoon?’
He met Jane from work as usual. Greeted her with a kiss. Took her out for dinner. And then gave the taxi driver the address very quietly, out of Jane’s earshot.
‘Why have we stopped here?’ Jane asked when the taxi pulled up.
‘There’s something I want you to see.’
She frowned. ‘Such as?’
‘Patience is a virtue,’ he intoned.
She cuffed him. ‘Not one you possess, so don’t give me that.’
He laughed, and opened the front door.
Her frown deepened. ‘Mitch? What’s going on?’
‘Have a look round.’
She walked from room to room. ‘It’s a flat. An empty one.’
‘A furnished one,’ he corrected. ‘Do you like it?’
‘It’s OK. Why?’
‘Because you’re moving in this weekend.’
‘I’m what?’ She stared at him in horror.
‘I said, you’re moving in this weekend. It’s our flat,’ he added, just in case she hadn’t got the message.
‘Our flat?’ she repeated.
‘Uh-huh. And we’re moving your stuff on Saturday.’
‘I can’t just tell the girls I’m moving out without any notice!’
‘Well, of course not.’ He’d already thought of that. ‘Give them whatever notice you need. I’m paying the rent here anyway.’
‘You’re paying the rent.’
‘Obviously.’ He’d told her he’d support her financially. This counted as part of that.
‘And you’re going to live here?’
‘When I’m in the country, yes.’
She stared at him and folded her arms. ‘You did this without even asking me if I wanted to live with you?’
‘It makes sense, Jane. Your bed’s tiny and it’s not comfortable and it’s way too far from the bathroom. Here, you have a king-size bed and an en suite. And it’s just round the corner from your friends, so you’re not going to feel cut off. It’s nearer the train station, too, so you won’t have to walk so far.’
‘Exercise is good for you.’
‘And on days when your back’s aching?’ he pointed out.
She gritted her teeth. ‘You could have asked me first. What do you think I am, some little doormat who’ll just go along with what you want?’
‘No.’ He raked a hand through his hair. This wasn’t going the way he’d expected. ‘You’re being difficult about this, Jane. All I’ve done is try to do something nice for you. Give you more space, and make you more comfortable without cutting you off from everyone.’
‘I don’t like surprises.’
‘You’re being unreasonable.’
‘Am I?’ She shook her head in seeming exasperation. ‘You chose the flat without even consulting me.’
‘You were at work.’
‘You still could’ve asked me.’
He sighed. ‘All right. Let’s play fantasy flat. What would your ideal location be? Somewhere near your friends, yes?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you’d want somewhere with a decent-sized bedroom. Preferably an en suite.’
‘Well—yes.’
‘And with a decent kitchen.’
‘Yes.’
His point exactly. ‘I’ve just described this flat. So what’s the problem?’
‘You didn’t ask me first.’
He rolled his eyes. ‘Jane. I thought you told me your housemates called you “Jane-Jane-Superbrain”? And that you’re known for being sensible?’
‘They do. And I am.’
‘This is the sensible option.’
‘But you didn’t ask me first.’
He folded his arms. ‘So you’re telling me you’d rather sleep in a tiny bed in a tiny room as far from the bathroom as you can get?’
‘No-o.’
‘Then what’s the problem?’
‘How many times do I have to repeat myself? You didn’t ask me!’
It had to be hormones making her react this way.
Not that he wanted to think about the reason for those hormones.
‘All right. We’ll do it your way. Will you move in with me, Jane?’
‘We hardly know each other.’
She was supposed to say yes. He bit back a sigh of impatience. ‘Isn’t this a good way to get to know each other?’
She bit her lip. ‘You’ve got an argument for everything.’
‘Most things,’ he agreed.
‘I hate you.’
‘No, you don’t.’ And he could prove that to her very quickly. It definitely wasn’t hate that heated the air between them.
‘For all I know, you’re really messy and you leave the top off the toothpaste and—’
‘Jane,’ he cut in softly. ‘I live out of a suitcase. I’m tidy.’
‘You work with chaos,’ she pointed out.
‘Which doesn’t mean I live in it. I’m house-trained. I can cook.’
She scowled. ‘And how am I supposed to know that?’
‘My mum’s a domestic science teacher, so she’d never hear the end of it if her kids couldn’t so much as boil an egg.’
‘But we always eat out.’
‘Because you find cooking smells difficult. But I’ll prove it to you on Saturday night. When we’ve moved your stuff.’
‘When we’ve what?’
Oh, for goodness’ sake. Were they going to have to go through all this again? ‘When we’ve moved your stuff,’ he said patiently. ‘Do I need to hire a van?’
‘You’re steamrollering me into this.’
‘No. I’m trying to make you comfortable.’ He paused. ‘So do you like the flat, or do you want this to be a very temporary let while I find something else?’
‘I like it,’ she admitted.
&n
bsp; ‘Good. So there isn’t a problem.’
‘I…’ Her shoulders drooped. ‘I didn’t think it would be like this. I thought when a man asked you to move in with him, you’d choose a place together.’
‘You were at work, this was perfect, and I needed to move fast to secure it. There wasn’t time.’ He walked over to her and slid his arms round her. ‘I just didn’t want to think of you not being comfortable when I could do something about it.’ He rested his cheek against her hair. ‘I wanted it to be a nice surprise. And I was trying to think about it from your point of view.’
She sniffed. ‘I don’t mean to be an ungrateful cow.’
He held her closer. ‘You’re not. And I should’ve asked you properly. It’s just I’m used to seeing what needs to be done and doing it—not waiting to check with someone else first.’ He nuzzled her earlobe. ‘If you really hate it, find somewhere you like and we’ll move.’ Then he realised that she was shaking. ‘Jane? You’re not crying, are you?’
‘No-o.’ But her voice was suspiciously wobbly.
He held her shoulders and leaned back so he could look at her face. Ah, hell. She was crying. He wiped away the tears with the pad of his thumb. ‘Don’t cry. It’ll be fine. Make me a list tonight of the things we need and I’ll get them tomorrow while you’re at work.’
‘So I don’t even get to choose them?’
He sighed. ‘Make it a specific list. Tell me which shop, which colour—whatever.’
‘You sound like my boss’s teenagers.’ She rolled her eyes and drawled, ‘Whatever.’
He laughed. ‘I’m just not bothered about colour schemes.’
‘So I could have everything hot pink if I wanted it?’
The sparkle was back in her eyes; he knew she was teasing. ‘With lime, green spots, if you really have to. Look, I’ll get the very basics tomorrow, and that’ll tide us over for long enough for you to get what you really want. Which will be my bill, OK?’
She lifted her chin. ‘I have a good job. I can pay my way.’
‘Fine. Enough arguing. I’ll walk you home—text me the list, or email it across, and I’ll get as much sorted as I can tomorrow.’ His mouth came to within millimetres away from hers. ‘And we can christen the flat on Saturday night…’
CHAPTER NINE
ON FRIDAY, Mitch bought everything on Jane’s list. He dropped the bedlinen and towels into a laundry service so he could pick them up later, stocked the fridge and the kitchen cupboards, then picked up the laundry and made the bed. If Jane really thought he lived in a mess…well, she’d have to eat her words, because the flat was immaculate. And he’d enjoy teasing her into a forfeit. Like sharing a bath with him.
Then he went to meet her from work.
‘How was your shopping trip?’ she asked.
‘Fine. Everything’s there. So either I can cook for you tonight, or we can have dinner out.’
‘Or you could have dinner at my place.’
‘Don’t you mean our place?’
‘No. I mean where I live now.’ She sighed. ‘You’re going to have to meet my friends, Mitch. They’re helping me move my stuff tomorrow.’
‘No need. I can handle it.’
‘They look out for me. No way are they going to let me move into a flat without checking things out for themselves.’
Including him, he thought wryly—she didn’t mean just the flat. ‘All right. Let’s compromise. We’ll drop by our flat and see if you’re happy with it, then I’ll come and meet your friends and we’ll get a take-away or something.’
She went tearful on him again when she saw the flat. Especially when she read the card on the bouquet of flowers he’d left for her in the middle of the bistro table in the kitchen. ‘Happy moving-in day?’
‘Jane, you can’t cry now,’ he told her. ‘Otherwise your friends will think I’m upsetting you and we’ll end up having a huge fight.’
‘I’m not crying because I’m sad.’ She scrubbed the back of her hand across her eyes. ‘It’s hormones.’
Uh-huh, and he wanted to steer off that subject right now. There was plenty of time to think about that later. ‘Let’s go and see your friends, then.’
Meeting her housemates wasn’t quite as bad as he’d expected. They gave him a thorough grilling, but he’d expected that and didn’t take it personally. It just meant they loved Jane and wanted to make sure she was going to be OK. And that he’d treat her right.
When he left, that evening, he had a feeling the jury was still out.
But when they saw the flat, the following day, he finally won their approval. They could see exactly why he’d chosen it and that it was right for Jane.
‘So you’re going to turn the little room into a nursery, then?’ Charlie asked, when they’d finished moving everything.
He shrugged. ‘If that’s what Jane wants. But it’s still early days.’
Charlie’s eyebrow rose. ‘Fourteen weeks isn’t exactly early days. It’s when morning sickness just about stops and she’s going to start blooming. And it’s the best time to plan things and do things, before she’s huge and tired.’
‘Give us a chance to move in, first,’ he said lightly. He didn’t want to think about what happened after ‘huge and tired’. About what would happen if he gave his heart to someone so tiny and vulnerable, and then something went wrong. ‘Seeing as you three gave up your afternoon to help us move Jane’s stuff, do you want to stay for dinner?’
‘Take-away?’ Hannah asked.
‘No. I’m cooking Spanish chicken. With brown rice, broccoli and carrots, followed by fresh fruit salad, to make sure Jane gets her five a day.’
Shelley’s eyes widened. ‘You can cook?’
He shrugged. ‘I already told Jane, my mum’s a domestic science teacher and it was a matter of pride for her to make sure my sister and I could cook. I’m perfectly competent in the kitchen.’
‘Thanks for the offer,’ Charlie said, ‘but I can’t—I’ve already arranged to go out with Luke. Though I’ll take a rain check.’
‘Sure.’
Hannah and Shelley exchanged a glance. ‘It’s tempting—but we ought to let you get settled. Jane looks tired,’ Hannah added.
‘I’ll make sure she rests.’
He did. He wouldn’t even let Jane see them to the door. When she protested, he simply picked her up, settled her on the sofa, and told her to stay put because he’d bring her a drink of iced water when he’d seen the girls out.
‘Thanks,’ Jane said when he brought her the water. ‘You know, they liked you.’
‘I’m not so sure. Charlie was grilling me again today. A lot,’ he pointed out.
She shrugged. ‘That’s Charlie. I think she just wanted to make sure you weren’t going to mess me about.’
As he had before?
But at least Jane didn’t say it.
‘Now, I know you like rice and broccoli and chicken,’ he said, ‘but I just want to check before I start cooking. You’re OK with peppers, tomatoes, onions and carrots?’
‘Fine. As long as the peppers are capsicum, not hot chilli.’ She looked rueful. ‘And I’m afraid garlic gives me terrible heartburn at the moment, so that might wreck your recipe a bit.’
‘Hey, it’s not a problem. I want to feed you, not make you feel rough,’ he said. ‘And they’re capsicum. Oh, and paprika, but I’ll keep a light hand.’
Cooking for two brought back memories for him. Natalie had been a hopeless cook, so the kitchen in their house in Cambridge had been his domain. And he’d really enjoyed cooking. Now he was in a kitchen again, he remembered just how much pleasure he found in cooking: it relaxed him. Chopping and stirring and seasoning and tasting.
But Jane wasn’t Natalie.
He had no idea whether she could cook or not. They’d never discussed it. It really didn’t matter much either way.
But then it hit him.
When he was in the UK, he’d be living here. With Jane. He’d acted so quickly on impulse that h
e hadn’t had time to think about it in that way. He’d have a proper base for the first time in a long, long while.
And he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that. Whether it made him want to go and curl up next to her—or whether it made him want to run like hell.
When Mitch had finished cooking, he called Jane through, then brought their plates over to the little bistro table.
‘This is very good,’ she said when she’d tasted the first mouthful. ‘So you weren’t joking about being able to cook, then.’
‘No.’
She smiled. ‘If anyone had said to me you were domesticated, I would’ve laughed. But look at this place. It’s spotless. And you even laundered all the new linen.’
‘Ah.’ He waved his fork at her in protest. ‘I cook, because I enjoy it. I’m tidy, because if you live out of a suitcase, a mess means you leave things behind. But I don’t do ironing. I use a laundry service.’
‘Are you telling me you got a laundry to do the sheets and towels?’
He shrugged. ‘Makes sense.’
‘Maybe when you didn’t have your own place. But you do now. And we have a washing machine and a tumble-dryer.’
We.
Jane suddenly realised that Mitch was making a huge compromise—he’d spent years living out of a suitcase, but now he’d made a settled base. For her.
So maybe this meant he was starting to accept the baby. Even though he still refused to talk about it and changed the subject when anyone mentioned nurseries or her bump.
Maybe everything would be all right.
He rolled his eyes. ‘I loathe ironing. It’s a complete waste of time. So although I’m fine with cooking and doing my share of the chores, I don’t iron.’
‘Real men don’t iron, hmm?’ She burst out laughing.
‘This one doesn’t.’
Something in his eyes warned her to stop teasing him. So she changed the subject, kept things light. He didn’t let her wash up, either.
‘I’m not an invalid. I’m expecting a baby.’
‘I know. But you’ve already done a lot today. Go and sit down.’
‘Territorial about the kitchen, are you?’
‘No.’ He flapped a tea towel at her. ‘Just go and sit down. Otherwise I’ll ring Charlie and tell her you’re overdoing things.’
