Читать книгу Australian Affairs: Claimed - Margaret Way - Страница 14

JAKE was on his way back to his town house after a heavy session at the gym when he saw Kitty in the car park, washing a car that had seen better days. She was wearing a pair of shorts that ended at mid-thigh and a loose-fitting T-shirt. Her hair was up in a high ponytail, swinging from side to side as she rubbed the soapy sponge over the duco of her four-cylinder vehicle. She looked young and nubile and so sexy he felt a surge of lust go through him like a rocket blast. Her small but perfect breasts were outlined behind the clingy dampness of her T-shirt, and every time she bent over he caught a delectable glimpse of her creamy flesh. She was humming to herself—a tune he was familiar with but couldn’t quite place. She had a hose in her other hand and it was spraying water all over the concrete, running in wasteful rivulets down the storm water drain.

‘I hate to take on the role of the fun police but you can’t do that around here,’ he said.

She jumped and turned around so quickly the high-pressure hose in her hand shot him straight in the groin with a blast of cold water.

He let out a stiff curse as he stepped out of the line of fire. ‘What the hell?’

‘Sorry,’ she said, pointing the hose at the ground, where it sprayed water all over the concrete at her feet. ‘I didn’t hear you. You scared the wits out of me, coming from nowhere like that.’

He frowned in irritation as he brushed off what water he could from his sodden gym shorts. ‘Will you turn off the damn hose, for God’s sake?’

She gave her head a little toss that sent her ponytail swinging again. ‘I’m washing my new car.’

‘You can’t use a hose to do that.’

‘Why ever not?’ she asked, looking at him defiantly. ‘How else am I supposed to wash it? Lick it clean?’

Jake looked at her mouth—a habit of his just lately that he couldn’t seem to break. He could think of places he would much rather have her lick with her tongue than the dusty duco of her second-hand bomb. ‘We have water restrictions here,’ he said. ‘You can’t use a hose to water the garden or wash your car during summer. You have to use a bucket. If you get caught there are hefty fines.’

‘Oh…’ She looked at the running hose and bit down on her lip. ‘I didn’t realise.’

Jake moved over to turn the hose off at the tap, asking over his shoulder. ‘Where did you get the car?’

Her chin came up a fraction. ‘I bought it.’

He came over and ran a hand over the dented paintwork of the front fender. ‘How much did you pay for it?’ he asked.

She pursed her lips for a tiny heartbeat. ‘It wasn’t expensive,’ she said. ‘I didn’t want to spend a fortune because I’m only going to be using it for three months.’

‘Let’s hope it lasts that long,’ Jake said, kicking one of the threadbare tyres with his right foot.

‘I’m sure it’s perfectly fine,’ she said, with a little flash of her grey gaze.

‘Did you take it for a test drive?’

Her eyes flickered a little, as if something behind them had come loose. ‘I drove it around the block at the owner’s house and then back to here,’ she said. ‘It ran smoothly enough.’

Jake grunted. ‘Good luck on restarting it.’

Her lips went tight again. ‘I’m sure it will start first go,’ she said. ‘It’s only had one owner.’

‘How many clicks on the clock?’

A little frown pulled at her brow. ‘Clicks?’

‘Kilometres.’

‘Oh…’ She nibbled at her lip again and stepped past him to peer through the driver’s window. ‘Forty-two thousand.’

Jake rolled his eyes. ‘Make that two hundred and forty-two thousand—maybe even more.’

She frowned at him again. ‘What do you mean?’

‘That model is ten years old,’ he said. ‘Even a little old lady only driving to church on Sundays would’ve clicked up more than that. You’ve been sold a lemon, Dr Cargill. Someone’s turned the clock back on it for sure.’

She shifted her eyes from his to the car and back again. ‘I suppose you think I’m gullible,’ she said with a hint of defiance.

‘Have you ever bought a car before?’ Jake asked.

‘I…’ Her slim throat rose and fell as she swallowed. ‘I used to share one. I lived close to the hospital in London so I didn’t really need one of my own.’

Jake gave the windscreen wipers a quick inspection. ‘These need replacing,’ he said, dusting his hands on his shorts. ‘I can get a new set of rubbers for you from a mate of mine. He owns an auto parts shop.’

‘I wouldn’t want to put you or your friend to any bother,’ she said, looking resentful and yet vulnerable and adorably cute all at the same time.

‘It’s no trouble,’ Jake said. ‘You’ll need new tyres soon too. That rear one is practically bald.’

She worked at her bottom lip again with her teeth, looking at the car with a defeated look on her expressive heart-shaped face.

‘Don’t worry,’ Jake said. ‘I’m sure it’ll get you to the hospital and back all right. But I wouldn’t take it on any long journeys until you’ve had it checked by a mechanic. I can give you the name of one who’ll take care of it for you without ripping you off.’

‘Thank you…’ She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear in a discomfited gesture.

‘I’ll get you a bucket,’ he said. ‘I have one in my garage.’

‘Please don’t bother,’ she said.

‘It’s no bother.’ Jake walked towards his garage and, fishing his remote out of his shorts pocket, activated the roller door. He ducked his head as the door was rising and grabbed the bucket next to his toolbox. ‘Can’t leave a job half done, now, can we?’ he said as he took the bucket over to the tap and filled it.

‘What are you doing?’ she asked.

Jake took the sponge from her hand, watching as her eyes flared when his fingers brushed against hers. ‘Stand back,’ he said with a lopsided smile. ‘This is no job for a lady.’

‘I’m not sure what gives you the impression I’m completely rubbish at taking care of the simplest tasks,’ she said, bristling like a pedigree Persian cat in front of a scruffy mongrel dog. ‘But I’ll have you know I can wash a car all by myself.’

Jake moved past her stiff little body to soap up the bonnet of the car. ‘It won’t take a minute,’ he said. ‘You’re too short to reach the roof in any case.’

She stood back with her arms folded crossly, her plump mouth pushed forward in a pout. ‘That’s why I was using the hose,’ she said, shooting him a look.

‘Yeah, well, don’t blame the drought on me,’ Jake said, bending over to re-soap the sponge. ‘I suppose you don’t have to wash cars in England.’

‘Why do you say that?’ she asked.

‘Doesn’t it rain all the time?’ he asked as he cleaned the rooftop of the car.

‘Not all the time,’ she said, with a hint of defensiveness.

A little silence passed.

‘Have you been to Britain?’ she asked.

Jake squatted down to soap up the rim of the nearest tyre. He thought of the ticket to London he’d had to cancel when he’d found out about Rosie’s pregnancy. He’d only planned to go for a couple of months the year after he’d finished medical school. He’d organised for Robbie to stay with a reliable family and the girls with friends. He had counted the days until his first real holiday free of responsibility. But when Rosie had tearfully confessed her predicament he had cancelled his trip and had never got around to booking another.

‘It’s on my list of things to do.’

‘Have you been to Europe?’

‘Not yet.’

‘Why not?’ she asked. ‘I thought a man like you would have gone far and wide to sow your wild oats.’

Jake straightened and tossed the sponge in the bucket like a basketball player landing a game-winning shot. ‘It hasn’t been a priority,’ he said. ‘Australia’s plenty big enough and exciting enough for me.’

‘That’s rather parochial of you, don’t you think?’ she said.

He shrugged. ‘I figure there’ll be plenty of time for me to travel the world when I get other stuff out of the way.’

‘What other stuff?’ she asked. ‘Career stuff? Surely it’s in your interests career-wise to have lived and worked overseas as so many of your colleagues do?’

Jake emptied the bucket and rinsed out the sponge at the tap. ‘Is that why you’re here?’ he asked, glancing at her over his shoulder. ‘To further your career?’

Her eyes moved out of range of his. ‘Of course it is.’

He picked up the bucket of rinsing water. ‘Three months isn’t very long,’ he said as he set to work on the car again.

‘It’s long enough.’

‘To further your career or mend a broken heart?’

The air stiffened in silence.

‘I haven’t got a broken heart,’ she said.

Jake looked at her over the top of the car. ‘Looks like it to me.’

She straightened her slumped shoulders and sent him one of her Jane Austen looks. ‘And I suppose you know all the signs because you’ve broken so many female hearts yourself,’ she said.

‘I haven’t broken any just lately,’ he said. ‘Anyway, it’s not something I set out to do deliberately.’

She gave a little laugh that was not even a distant cousin to humour. ‘I’m sure you don’t,’ she said, kicking at one of the tyres with her foot. ‘My ex claimed he didn’t do it on purpose, either.’

‘How long were you together?’ Jake asked.

She let out a long sigh before she faced him. ‘For ever.’

He came back around to her side and leaned against the car. ‘Want to talk about it?’

Her eyes skittered away from his. ‘Not particularly.’

‘I take it he found someone else?’ Jake said.

Her gaze was glazed with bitterness, like a coating of shellac. ‘My best friend.’

‘Ouch,’ he said, wincing in empathy. ‘That would’ve hurt.’

‘It did.’ She bit her lip until the blood drained away. ‘It does…’

Jake hardly realised he had moved away from the car and put a hand on the top of her slim shoulder until he felt the lightning strike shock of the contact run up his arm from the cup of his palm.

Her eyes met his and locked.

Electricity zapped and fired.

Desire roared through his veins like a runaway freight train. He could see the answering flare in her grey gaze. He felt the gentle shudder of her flesh beneath his hand. He stood mesmerised as the tip of her tongue snaked out and brushed over her soft lips in a single heartbeat of time that seemed immeasurable.

He lowered his head fraction by fraction, frame by frame, like a film being played in slow motion. The stop signals and flashing red lights in the rational side of his brain were overruled by the need to taste the sweet pillow of her mouth, to press against those soft contours and forget about everything but the sensual energy that flowed in a spine-tingling current between them.

He cupped his other palm against the soft satiny curve of her cheek, watching as her serious smoky grey eyes registered the contact with a dilation of her pupils.

Her lips parted slightly, her vanilla-scented breath tantalising him as he came even closer.

The dark fan of her eyelashes lowered over her eyes, but just as he was about to make contact her eyes suddenly sprang open and she stumbled backwards out of his light hold.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, blushing furiously. ‘I can’t do this.’

Jake gave a casual whatever shrug and put his hands out of temptation’s way in the pockets of his shorts. ‘No problem,’ he said.

She pressed her lips together tightly for a moment, actively avoiding his gaze. ‘I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about me…’

‘My bad,’ Jake said. ‘I overstepped the line. Blame my sister Rosie.’

She cautiously met his gaze. ‘Your…sister?’

‘I’m trying to win a bet,’ he said. ‘No sex this summer. I’ve just about made it too. Only twenty-two days to go.’

Her cheeks turned rosy red. ‘How morally upright of you,’ she said. ‘So come the first of March anyone is pretty much fair game?’

He gave her a glinting look. ‘I do have some standards.’

‘Oh, yes,’ she said with her customary hauteur. ‘A strong working pulse. I almost forgot.’

Jake smiled wryly as he picked up his bucket. ‘Do you want me to run a chamois over your car to dry it off?’ he asked.

‘No, thank you,’ she said, with schoolmarmish primness.

He tapped the bonnet with his hand. ‘Give me a shout if you need a jump start in the morning,’ he said. ‘I have the necessary equipment.’

‘I’m quite sure I won’t be needing any of your equipment,’ she said, that dainty chin going up another notch.

‘Well,’ Jake said, giving her a deliberately smouldering look, ‘you know where it is if and when you do.’