Authors: Nerika Parke
Rob immediately hit the pause button on the TV remote and gave him his full attention. “Start from the beginning and don’t leave any detail out. How hot was she?”
Jason shook his head, rolling his eyes at his brother. “Pervert. You know I’m never going to tell you that stuff. But if you must know, we didn’t have sex.”
A look of disgust clouded Rob’s face and he sat back, grabbing the remote control. “You are no fun. Is that why you’re back so early? Couldn’t get it up?”
Jason cuffed him across the head as he walked past to the kitchen. “
Some
of us never have that problem. Her friend hired me as a surprise birthday present. I think she was pretty freaked out to begin with.” He took a muesli bar from the cupboard and tore the wrapper open as he walked back into the living room.
“How old?” Rob said.
“Twenty-three.”
“That young?” he said, smirking. “So what did you do all this time?”
“We talked, ate fish and chips, went for a walk.” He felt the smile stretching his face again. “It was nice. I said she could have the rest of the hours her friend paid for on the next few nights.”
Rob was watching him. “You like her.”
Jason shrugged. “Maybe. Not that it matters.” He drew in a breath and looked at the closed white door across the room. “I’m going to go check on her.”
Rob nodded and settled back on the sofa.
On his way past the telephone, Jason grabbed a sticky note from the pad they kept there and scribbled on it.
Reschedule clients for next four days
The plughole monster made a vague glooping sound, but was otherwise silent. A bubble rose through the fetid water and popped on the surface, releasing a little puff of gas that made the kitchen smell ever so slightly worse, if that were possible.
Charlotte gave a few more frantic pumps of the plunger. She stopped when the doorbell rang, looking round in horror.
“Oh no.”
She stripped off her yellow rubber gloves and ran to the front door. Looking in the mirror on the wall beside it was a mistake. She tried running a hand through her hair, succeeding in messing it up even more.
The doorbell sounded again.
She swiped at a smudge of mascara on her cheek with the back of her hand, and opened the door.
Jason smiled at her. For a moment, she forgot to be embarrassed.
The suit had been replaced by well fitting indigo jeans and a purple shirt. The brown leather jacket he wore made her want to grab the collar, pull him towards her and...
“You have a little something...” He reached out and brushed a thumb across her cheek.
She jolted back to reality. “Oh, yes, thank you.” Her cheek tingling, she stepped back to let him in. “I’m having a small crisis in the kitchen.”
He sniffed the air. “I thought we were going out for dinner. You didn’t have to cook.”
“Oh, he thinks he’s funny.”
He chuckled, following her into the kitchen. “Whoa,” he said, covering his nose. “That’s an interesting odour.”
She walked over to the sink and took hold of the plunger handle. “I’ve been pumping for ten minutes.”
“Without me?” he said, affecting a look of betrayal.
Charlotte rolled her eyes, trying not to smile. “I think I’m going to need a plumber to do it for me.”
He opened his mouth then shook his head. “Nah, too easy.”
Shrugging off his jacket, he laid it over the back of one of the dining chairs at her tiny table and joined her at the sink. His shirt had short sleeves. There were biceps. Charlotte tried not to stare.
“Okay,” he said, “I’m going to need a bucket, rubber gloves, maybe a wire coat hanger, if you have one.” He opened the cupboard beneath the sink and began removing the contents.
“Oh no, you don’t have to do that.”
“My dad is a plumber and he insisted on teaching my brother and me this stuff. This isn’t my first rodeo.” One side of his mouth hitched up in a sexy smile. “And I am here to fulfil your every desire, plumbing related or otherwise.”
She couldn’t help smiling as she fetched a bucket while he removed the shelf from the cupboard and sat on the floor. He placed the bucket under the sink, unscrewed something she couldn’t see, and leaned his upper body into the cupboard.
“I see the problem,” he said, his voice echoing in the enclosed space. “I think a long knife would do it. Do you have a breadknife or something?”
She passed him a knife and waited.
“Okay, I’ve got it,” he said. “Almost there. Almost...”
There was a yell and a squelching splash. The sink began to drain. Charlotte heard the water running into the bucket.
Jason sat up. His purple shirt clung to him, saturated in a brownish gloop. More brown splashes covered the front of his jeans, his arms and face.
“I’ve cleared the blockage, as you may be able to see,” he said.
Charlotte burst into laughter.
He stood and advanced towards her. “How about a thank you hug,” he said, holding his arms out.
“Don’t you dare!” she laughed, backing away.
She grabbed the tea towel from the oven handle and threw it at him and he snatched it out of the air.
“Oh, that’s gratitude,” he said, smiling as he pulled off the gloves. He wiped the brown sink goo from his face with the tea towel.
“Thank you,” she said, then made a face. “You smell terrible.”
“One of my many attractive qualities,” he said, looking down at himself. “Um...”
Charlotte reached out and took hold of his hand, the only clean part of him, having been encased in the rubber gloves. “Come on.”
She left Jason in her bathroom with clean towels and a promise to return for his clothing. Five minutes later, when she heard the shower stop, she knocked on the bathroom door and closed her eyes.
“Are your clothes ready to be washed?” she said when she heard it open, holding out her hands blindly.
Jason chuckled in front of her. “It’s okay, you can open your eyes. I’m decent.”
She opened her eyes. He was standing in the doorway, a towel wrapped around his waist. He held his dirty clothes in one hand while rubbing his hair with a second towel.
She tried not to, she really did, but her eyes couldn’t help drifting downwards. Muscles. Lots of muscles. The kind of muscles you usually only saw in films or on romance novel covers. Still glistening with moisture from his shower.
She swallowed and grabbed the clothes from him. “I’ll... I’ll get these in the machine.” She whirled away.
“Um, Charlie?”
She didn’t turn back. “Yes?”
“Do you have anything I can wear? I’m happy to stay in the towel, but you seem a little uncomfortable.”
“Oh, it’s not... it’s just that I’m not used to having half naked men in my bathroom.” She winced. Did she really have to put it like that?
There was a pause before he answered. “Well, on behalf of the male gender, I have to say that’s a shame.”
Her breath caught in her throat. Shaking her head, she tried to focus while a vision of the sculpted abs behind her danced before her eyes. What could she give him to wear? She was fairly sure she wouldn’t survive the evening with him wearing just a towel.
“I’m not sure I have anything that would fit... No, wait.”
She ran into her bedroom and pulled her dressing gown from the back of the door. It might be a bit tight across the shoulders, but it should be big enough.
When she returned to the landing, Jason and his spectacular pecs and abs were still standing in the bathroom doorway.
“It’s all I have,” she said. “Sorry.”
He took the pink fluffy item from her hands. “I... um... okay. I suppose I’m secure enough in my masculinity to pull this off,” he said with a smile.
Please don’t say
masculinity
when you’re looking like that.
She smiled, turned, and fled.
“What smells so nice?”
Charlotte turned to see Jason walk in wearing his black socks and her pink dressing gown, which came to his knees. She burst into laughter.
“Go ahead and laugh,” he said, stroking the sleeve, “but I may never take this off. Do they make them in men’s sizes?”
“Probably not in pink,” she said.
“Darn, and I had my heart set on a pink one.”
She giggled and returned her attention to the pasta sauce she was stirring on the hob. “There’s breadsticks, if you want something while dinner’s cooking,” she said, indicating a box on the counter.
“You didn’t have to cook,” he said, sliding a breadstick from the box and leaning against the counter edge next to her. “We could have ordered a takeaway.”
“Call it a thank you for risking life and limb to unblock my sink,” she said. “I really am grateful. You’re my hero.”
He smiled. “It was my pleasure.”
“Really?”
“Well, okay, not the getting covered with smelly gunk bit. But being your hero is definitely worth it.”
Charlotte smiled, blushed and looked back at the sauce, giving her heart a mental kick to calm it down.
Jason put the last piece of breadstick into his mouth and straightened. “What can I do?”
You can tell me you want to stay with me forever.
“Uh, you can stir this while I get the pasta.”
Pasta was pretty much all Charlotte knew how to make, but it didn’t taste bad and Jason was very complimentary. After eating, they had coffee and biscuits for dessert, relaxing on the sofa and chatting.
Charlotte’s idea of the perfect date was that it should fulfil three specific criteria:
1) No awkward silences or desperate brainstorming to think of what to say next.
2) No boredom, on either side.
3) No accidental knocking over of drinks leading to deep embarrassment, which she had a knack for.
In all her twenty-three years, she’d never had a date that managed the hat trick. Now, she’d had two in two days.
Being with Jason was easy. Comfortable. It was a dichotomy, like talking to an old friend she didn’t know. Strangely, knowing he had been paid to be there made it easier, as if the burden of being entertaining was off her shoulders, so she could be herself. It was refreshing.
More than anything, she hoped he felt the same way about being with her. She didn’t want to be just another one of his clients. Even though they would never see each other again after the next three days, she wanted him to remember her for all the right reasons.
“My friend’s band is playing at The Jupiter tomorrow night,” Jason said as he stood by the door, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his now washed and dried jeans. “He invited me to go and see them.”
Charlotte nodded in understanding, hiding her disappointment. “That’s okay. So I’ll see you on Thursday?”
“Oh no, I was going to ask if you’d like to go with me. They’re really good.” He leaned against the doorframe and smiled.
He wanted her to meet people he knew?
Don’t look surprised, don’t look surprised.
“I... yes. I’d love to.”
He breathed out and nodded. “Great. I’ll pick you up at half past eight.” He stepped out the door, then turned back. “I had a really good time tonight.”
“Even with the gunk?” she said, trying to wrestle the enormous grin trying to climb onto her face into submission.
“Especially with the gunk.”
The grin started to gain the upper hand. “I did too.”
After he’d gone, Charlotte wandered up the stairs, dropped onto her back on her bed and hugged her dressing gown to her, taking in a deep breath of his scent lingering in the fluffy fabric and grinning to her heart’s content.
_ _ _
“I’m guessing by the humming that you had another good time with your new client. Did you actually get to do the deed this time?”
“Move your feet. And sometimes having a good time means connecting with someone on an emotional level, not a physical one.” Jason sat down on the sofa as Rob moved his sock-clad feet to the coffee table.
“What chick flick did you get that one from?”
Jason heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Philistine.”
“Did that star Meryl Streep?”
He snorted and smacked Rob’s arm with the back of his hand.
“What’s her name anyway?” Rob said. “You didn’t tell me.”
He couldn’t help smiling as her face came into his mind. “Charlotte.”
“Hmm.”
“Hmm what?”
“That’s a look I haven’t seen on you for a long time. In fact, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen that look on you.”
“What look?”
“You’re falling for her.”
Jason’s heart rate kicked it up a notch. “I’m... no, I’m not, no.”
“That’s a lot of denial for such a short sentence.”
“I am simply conveying the complete and utter lack of veracity in the assertion that I am falling for her. What’s on TV?”
“Throwing lawyer speak at me then trying to change the subject is not going to change the fact that I am right.”
“Please, we’ll be old men before you’re right. Give me the remote.”
Jason switched on the TV, but he barely saw the onscreen display as he scrolled through the channels.
He couldn’t be falling for Charlotte. And even if he was, she wouldn’t fall for him, not with what he was. It was a business transaction, nothing more.
So why did the thought that they only had three more evenings together make him feel so sad?