He reached the kettle before her and shoved it under the tap. “Tomorrow you can boil
a kettle. Tonight you have to take it easy.”
She didn’t bother to argue. He might be taking advantage of her injury to boss her
around, but it wasn’t as annoying as it should have been. On the contrary, she was
enjoying it more than was good for her. But was it really so bad to let him take care
of her? What about when her ankle was healed—would their relationship return to the
way it had always been, strictly platonic and professional?
That was a question she’d worry about later. If necessary she’d reinforce her tough,
self-sufficient image when the time came. Tonight, she’d let him do what he apparently
needed to do to assuage his guilt—she’d allow him to look after her. And if it felt
good to be spoiled…well, she’d deal with what that meant tomorrow.
Chapter Nine
Aaron glanced across at Jasmine, whose eyelids had had a definite droop to them for
the last half hour. Now they were closed, her dark lashes a contrast against her paler-than-normal
skin. Her hair had dried naturally and as her head had rolled to the side, it had
fallen across one cheek. His fingers itched to push it back, to discover whether it
was as silky as it looked. He wasn’t used to seeing it loose. It made her look younger,
softer, more vulnerable. He wasn’t used to seeing her vulnerable either.
Her lips parted slightly as he watched, and his own lips went dry at the sight. He
knew what it was like to kiss her, and it didn’t take much imagination to picture
himself leaning across there to kiss her again. And if she responded the way she had
in his car that night…
He pulled back from the brink of losing himself in lustful thoughts. The urge to kiss
her had welled up and nearly overwhelmed him, but she was hurt, on medication, and
it was time for him to leave her alone to rest.
He reached across, tapped the back of her hand with a fingertip, and said, “Hey, sleepyhead.
Why don’t we call it a night?”
She opened her eyes, blinked, then turned a surprised face toward him. “I wasn’t asleep.”
“No?” He grinned. “Just doing an impression of a hibernating bear?”
Her eyes widened. “I wasn’t snoring, was I?” Her right hand flew to her chin. “Or
drooling?”
It crossed his mind that he could have some fun teasing her, and normally he would,
but he decided to take the high road and ignore the opportunity. It wouldn’t be fair
on her after the day she’d had. “Neither, but you should go to bed and get some sleep.
Is there anything you need help with before I go?”
She considered the question. “No, I don’t think so.”
“All right, then.” He got to his feet, then stood looking down at her. “You know you
can ring me if you need anything, don’t you?”
She nodded.
He hoped she would. Independence was one thing, but being injured was another. “Everybody
needs help sometimes.”
“Even you?”
He nodded. “Even me.”
“Are you talking about the past now? Because I can’t recall you ever asking for help.”
“Go to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”
As he left Jasmine’s house, Aaron tried to stop the memories pouring in, but it was
a battle he was always going to lose. There had been times when he’d needed help desperately.
When his father had walked out, for instance. He could have done with help then to
understand that it wasn’t his fault, that it wouldn’t have made a difference if he’d
been a better footballer or a more diligent student. Nothing he could have changed
about himself would have stopped his father yearning for a different life.
Yes, he understood this now, but he could have used help at the time to keep his younger
self from taking on all the blame.
And when his mother was on a downward spiral of drink and depression, he’d needed
help that never came to deal with the fact that she didn’t love him enough to stay
alive and healthy. She drank herself to death rather than live without her husband;
her son hadn’t mattered. Maybe if he’d known where to turn for help, she could have
been saved.
He’d never know now, would he?
The one person who had helped him had been Joe. Too late to undo the damage his parents
had caused, but in time to stop him becoming a statistic himself. In time to give
him discipline and self-respect and, most importantly, hope.
That hope had been for a future of firefighting and freedom. It definitely hadn’t
included a woman who could bring all that he’d worked for crashing down around him
just by getting under his skin.
…
Jasmine hadn’t slept well, and as early as she dared the next morning, she phoned
Sasha. After Jasmine had finished explaining what had happened the day before, Sasha
gasped. “Are you telling me that Aaron undressed you?”
“Not exactly. Just helped with the bottom half. Honestly, it was no big deal.”
Sasha made a disbelieving noise. “Have you forgotten who you’re talking to?”
Jasmine felt her cheeks grow hot again. This was getting ridiculous. She was like
a traffic light, always turning red when she least expected it. Luckily, Sasha couldn’t
see her. “Okay, I admit it was a big deal to me, but it wasn’t to him. He took it
in stride. I might as well have been fully clothed for all the effect it had on him.”
Sasha snorted. “I find that very hard to believe. Maybe he was trying not to embarrass
you?”
“I doubt that. This is Aaron we’re talking about. Anyway, let’s stop discussing it.
You have to go or you’ll keep Kane waiting.”
Sasha had told her that they were heading to the Barossa Valley for the day. Briefly,
Jasmine had envied her the simplicity of her relationship with Kane and wished she
could have the same type of relationship with Aaron, but almost as swiftly as the
thought had popped up, she slammed it down again. Theirs was a completely different
situation. It could never happen.
“Are you sure you don’t need help with anything? I can come over; Kane won’t mind.”
“No, honestly. I can even put weight on my foot today. And anyway, Aaron will be here
soon.”
“He’s going to be there all day?” Sasha’s voice had risen to a squeak.
“Don’t read anything into that. We’ll be working.”
“Hmm. Well, call me if you want my help tonight, okay?”
“I don’t expect to. Thanks anyway.”
“Hey, it’s no problem. You’d do the same for me.”
”I have to go,” Jasmine said at the sound of the doorbell. “Aaron’s here.”
Jasmine opened the door to see Aaron aiming his phone at the veranda floor.
“What are you doing?”
He looked up and smiled that twisting, sexy smile that tied her stomach in knots.
“Morning. How are you feeling today?”
“Grouchy.”
“Good. Back to normal, then.”
He laughed at the face she pulled. “I’m taking photos of the pattern to bring to the
supplier.”
“Hmm.” He looked her up and down, leaving her tingling. “Sasha’s been here?”
“No, I didn’t need any help. Notice something else?” She held out her arms. “No crutch.”
He nodded. “I think you should bring it with you while we go to the tile shop. Your
ankle might deteriorate while we’re out.”
“I will.” She swung her bag onto her shoulder, grabbed the crutch, and locked the
front door before following Aaron to his car. Her first time in his car since the
night of Leanne’s wedding. Memories wrapped around her as she settled in the passenger
seat, and she blew out a breath while she waited for him to get in and start the engine.
There was only just room to fit the crutch alongside her as she leaned forward to
wedge her bag behind her feet. But there was something in the way.
She held up a shoe.
Not just any old shoe—a hot-pink stiletto.
She gave Aaron a raised-eyebrow stare.
“Not mine,” he said. “Not my size.”
“Do you know who it belongs to?”
He glanced at it again, then focused on the road as he maneuvered out of her street.
“No, I can’t say I do. Must have been there for a while, though. I haven’t had anyone
in the car since…well, for some time.”
She examined it from all sides. “Strange. I thought it would have
TGIF
printed on it somewhere.”
“Thank God It’s Friday?”
“No. Toes Go In First. That’s about the level of intelligence I expect from someone
who’d leave her shoe behind. The pair, I could understand, but not one shoe.”
He shot her an amused glance. “Definitely feeling better today, aren’t you?”
She tossed the shoe into the space behind her. It belonged to a woman who’d sat in
this very seat. He’d probably kissed her too. The thought of him kissing another woman
didn’t bother Jasmine. Much. Except for the prickly sensation at the back of her throat.
And once he’d kissed her, things would have gotten heated pretty quickly. She knew
all about that, and how easy it was to lose one’s mind around Aaron. It was the only
way to explain the fact that an expensive-looking stiletto had been mislaid and apparently
forgotten. Unless…
“Maybe she left it here deliberately, so that she’d have a reason to see you again.”
“Who?”
“Keep up. The owner of the shoe.”
Aaron parked outside the tile store, and Jasmine waited for him to come around to
the passenger side and help her out of the car. She was getting the hang of letting
him assist her, even if she was hypersensitive to the touch of his hands balancing
her while she sorted out the crutch and her bag.
Inside the store he blew out a breath. “Bet you’re glad I took those photos now.”
She nodded, gazing at the stacks of boxes stretching the length of the large space.
“You’re not as stupid as you look.”
“Thanks.” He grinned before heading off to find an employee.
Tiles bought, they drove back to her house, where Jasmine regretted admitting that
her ankle was aching a little, as Aaron insisted on her sitting under the tree in
the front garden with her leg resting on a stool. She reconsidered that regret when
he unbuttoned and removed the cotton shirt he’d worn to the shops. He was sporting
an old, well-loved T-shirt beneath it, which was probably a good thing, because his
broad, bare back would have been enough to make her squirm.
As it was, her nerves started humming beneath her skin. Unlike her own old and well-loved
T-shirts, his wasn’t stretched out of shape, and it didn’t hide the body underneath.
It stretched across his muscles as he crouched to examine the task ahead of him more
closely. The sleeves seemed to shrink as he reached out to tap the tiles, exposing
his smooth biceps and causing a rhythmic
thud
low in her belly.
God, she was pathetic.
“All right. I’ll get some tools and start lifting tiles. I’ll be careful and try to
preserve as many of the originals as possible, but there could be breakages. Luckily
we bought plenty to spare. I might not finish the job today.”
“It doesn’t matter how long it takes.”
“Even if it means having to put up with me for a couple of days?” He smiled at her
over his shoulder.
“I can cope with that.” Especially if she was going to have a ringside seat and a
good excuse to watch him.
As he worked, she relaxed. The heat of the day combined with the painkiller made her
feel pleasantly serene, and the view gave her something to smile about.
…
Glancing across at Jasmine for at least the tenth time, Aaron sat back on his heels.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Me? Why should I be thinking about anything?”
“Because something is making you smile.”
“Oh.” Busted. After a moment she said, “I was thinking about the movie last night.”
“Really? You slept through most of it. Which bit were you thinking about?”
“Um…the car chase.”
“Right.” He couldn’t imagine what about it had made her smile. “Have you noticed how
whenever there’s a car chase in an exotic location, a fruit stall always gets overturned?
Every time.” He shook his head. “Enough with the fruit stalls, Hollywood.”
“Oh, I know, it’s such a cliché. You know another cliché that drives me mad? When
the character could walk down a perfectly well-lit street, but she chooses to walk
down the dark alley instead. Who, in their right mind, would do that? Or when she’s
alone in a house at night and she only thinks to lock the doors
after
she’s heard a suspicious noise.”
“And we’re supposed to be on the side of these dummies.” He went back to work on the
tiles.
“Don’t get me started on the way women always try to run in high heels,” she said,
clearly on a roll. “Kick them off, for God’s sake!”
“Yeah.” He looked up. “It annoys me that when anybody is carrying a bag of groceries—paper,
plastic, doesn’t matter—you can guarantee there’s always a long baguette sticking
out of the top. And if they drop it, there are always oranges.”
“When an aircraft runs out of fuel and crashes, it always explodes as if the tank
were full of fuel. What is with that?” She held up her palms. “Do they think we’re
stupid or what?”
He laughed. “Plus, when it runs out of fuel, the pilot always taps the fuel gauge
as if it’s going to help.”
Her face was alight with humor, and it made his day to see her so happy. He’d put
up a fight if anyone tried to wipe the smile off her face. He didn’t analyze his reaction,
he just enjoyed the way they clicked on this level.
The task progressed, and he’d nearly finished lifting the broken tiles when he heard
a vehicle turn into the driveway. He eyed the four-wheel drive parked behind his own
car, then looked at Jasmine. She was biting her lip.
“Do you know who this is?”
“My father.”
He watched with interest as the passenger door and the rear door opened simultaneously.
“Oh, and two of my brothers,” she said as two tall, well-built men got out. Then another
car pulled up in the street. “Correction, all four of my brothers, and the girlfriends
of two of them,” she said, sounding resigned.
He brushed the cement dust from his hands and straightened. Jasmine was out of her
chair and her father, the gray-haired man from the photo in her house, headed over.
“What’s with the crutch?” he asked.
“Sprained ankle, Dad. Nothing serious.”
“Uh-huh. And who’s this?” He jerked his head toward Aaron.
“Aaron. He’s helping me with the tiles.” She looked his way, frowning. “Aaron, this
is my father, Bernard.”
All of her brothers had gathered around by this time, and Aaron knew how a gazelle
must feel while being eyed by a pride of lions. So this was what it was like to meet
a woman’s family. Not something he’d ever experienced—or wanted to experience. A shudder
ran down his spine. He wasn’t a coward, he could take anything her father and brothers
chose to dish up, but the whole thing was a bit too…intimate for his liking. Meeting
the family went with commitment, and that was way out of his comfort zone. After he’d
introduced himself, he was out of there.