***

I come awake to music and stretch in my bed. It’s a lovely satisfied stretch that tells me I’ve had a very restful sleep. I sit up. What is that? It takes a while for my brain to kick into awake mode, but when it’s does, I can still hear music. I brush my hair from my face. The music stops.

Huh? Is Kate back already? I glance at my clock. Nine o’clock? Christ, I’ve not slept this late in years. I flop back on my pillow with a smile. It would seem that Jesse Ward is good for my sex life and my sleep.

There’s that music again. The familiar sound of Noel Gallagher’s Sunday Morning Call penetrates my ear drums. I love that track. I frown, reaching for my phone and see Jesse’s name flashing on the screen. I smile as I connect the call.

‘How did you do that?’ My voice is husky from sleep.

‘Do what?’ he asks. I can’t see him, but I know he’s grinning that cocky, sexy grin.

‘You rigged my phone.’ I accuse.

‘Where are you?’

‘In bed.’ Recovering from you!

‘Naked?’ he asks – all low and husky.

Oh no! I’m not getting into sleazy phone sex. I know where this is going. His voice does things to me. ‘No, I’m not.’

‘I could remedy that.’

I shudder at the thought. How can he spark such reactions by being on the end of the phone? ‘How’s your new apartment?’ I need to change the direction of conversation quickly.

‘Full of Italian shit.’

‘Funny. Where are you?’

He sighs. ‘At The Manor, you said you would call.’ He sounds slighted.

Yes, I did say I would call, but it’s only been twenty four hours – ish, and I’m majorly uncomfortable with the fact that I really, really wanted to call him.

‘I got carried away sorting my room out.’ I did. And it’s a good job done. I’m ignoring the fact that I purposely kept myself busy.

‘What are you doing today? I want to see you.’

What? Just like that? Christ, hasn’t he had enough of me? Obviously not, but is this a good Idea? Damn, I want to see him. I’m much too young for him. And I wouldn’t trust him as far as I can throw him. With his looks, confidence and talent in the pleasure department, he’s a sure fire way to a broken heart. I need a reliable, trustworthy man – a man who’ll look after me and walk on hot coals for me. I silently laugh. My expectations are ridiculously high, but given my last two relationships, I’m sticking to the plan. If Jesse wants to see me, it should be on my terms. I can’t be seen to be desperate.

‘No can do,’ I say dismissively. ‘I’m super busy.’ Doing sweet fuck all! Damn, I want to see him.

‘Busy doing what?’ He’s shocked. Why wouldn’t I be busy? I have a life.

‘All sorts.’

‘Are you fiddling with your hair, by any chance?’ His voice is full of humour.

I pause, mid-twiddle. How has he cottoned on to that? ‘I’ll call you tomorrow.’ I inform him. Will I? I’m just about to hang up when I hear that cold, unfriendly voice I hate so much. What the bloody hell is she doing there? I’m uncomfortable with how uncomfortable that makes me feel. Why should I care?

‘Ava, wait a minute.’ He must cover his phone because the voices become muffled, but it’s definitely her. I bristle all over, which is crazy stupid. ‘Sarah, just give me a second, will you?’ He sounds slightly pissed. ‘Ava, are you there?’

I should just hang up. ‘Yeah,’ Damn me!

‘You’ll call tomorrow.’ he says. It‘s a statement, not a question.

‘I will.’ I hang up quickly. That was not how I wanted to end the conversation. He pretty much told me to call, and I agreed. That is not being on the front foot.

I huff my way out of bed and take myself to the shower. What am I going to do all day, anyway? Kate’s not home and the house is spick and span, as usual. I need something to divert my unreasonable, jealous frame of mind.

Chapter 14

‘Fucking hell!’ Kate’s stood in my bedroom doorway, open mouthed and wide eyed. ‘What happened?’

I tuck my black shirt into my capri pants and marvel at how easily I locate my black, suede heels and gold belt. I really am very organised this morning.

‘How’s your Gran?’ I ask, feeding my belt through the loops of my trousers.

‘Still senile. What did you get up to while I was gone?’ She starts plumping a pillow on my bed.

I gesture around the room, with a what-do-you-think look, leaving out the fact that Matt called and I agreed to meet him. Oh, I’ll also omit the Jesse call that resulted in me sulking for the best part of yesterday. How ridiculous!

‘What time did you get back?’ I ask. I’d given up waiting and pigged Kate’s half of the wine after I called and discovered that she was stuck at junction nineteen of the M1.

‘Ten. All of the commuters returning to the city were clogging the roads. I’ll do the train next time. Can I borrow you after work?’

‘Sure, what for?’

‘I’ve got a cake delivery I need some help with.’ she says.

‘No worries. Pick me up from the office at six.’ I grab my black bag from my newly organised bag cupboard and start transferring my things from last week’s bag.

‘Will do, have you heard from the God?’

My head snaps up, and I find Kate grinning from ear to ear as she folds up my bed throw. I narrow my eyes on her before presenting myself to the mirror to put my gloss on.

‘You mean the Lord. He called.’ I disclose casually, popping my lips and catching her reflection. She’s still grinning. ‘What?’ I gasp.

‘Have we established an age?’

I scoff. ‘No, I keep asking and he keeps lying. It’s obviously an issue.’

‘Well, the man’s landed himself a hot bird of twenty six. He probably can’t believe his luck. He’s thirty five, maximum.’

‘He hasn’t landed me. It’s just sex.’ I correct her, rather unconvincingly. I collect my bag, leaving Kate tweaking my bed covers as I head to the kitchen, pour myself some orange juice and take my phone off charge.

Kate waltzes in as I’m feeding myself my pill. She flicks the kettle on. ‘You can’t beat a good screw with an Adonis to get you over a relationship. He’s your rebound fuck.’

I laugh. Yes, that’s exactly what he is. Not that I needed any distractions to get over Matt. That was pretty easy.

‘Correct,’ I agree. ‘I’ll see you after work.’

She leans over the banister as I run down the stairs. ‘Six o’clock!’

It’s a usual Monday morning again, but most unusual is that everyone is here. There’s always at least one of us out of the office on site visits or appointments. I’m in the kitchen with Patrick, filling him in on Mrs Kent’s new house.

‘Have you ever asked her if she would change the theme? It may influence whether it feels like home. It would potentially save Mr K a fortune,’ Patrick laughs. ‘Not that I’m complaining, of course. She can move every year for the rest of her life, for all I care, as long as she keeps contracting you to jazz the place up.’