‘Yes. I assumed the agent would do all that, but I guess not.’
‘I asked if there was anything I should know but the estate agent just handed me the key and said it was all pretty self-explanatory.’
The grey eyes momentarily turned stormy once more. ‘OK. I’ll show you some basics.’
* * *
An hour later, I was dry, dressed – including yet another pair of enormous pants – and my house was warm. Well, kind of. There was still plastic sheeting covering several of the window gaps, a material not exactly renowned for its heat-retaining capacity. Not to mention the fact that when you shut the front door, it was so warped that the wind still blew freely through the gaps. The back door wasn’t much better.
I sat staring around me. What had I done?
‘You OK?’ The deep voice jolted me out of my daze.
‘Oh! Yes. Fine. Thanks.’
‘You look…’ I met his eyes, the handsome face set in a thoughtful frown. ‘Stunned,’ he finished.
‘Me?’ I replied, too quickly. ‘No. Not at all. Absolutely all going to plan. Just a couple of hiccups which,’ I put my hand out, ‘thanks to you, are now under control.’
Jesse looked back at me, clearly not buying it for a second, but I held his gaze, determinedly, attempting to block out the fact that he’d already seen me lying flat on my back in the mud, raging at the sky.
‘Right. All under control, eh?’
‘Absolutely.’ I gave him my best winning smile, the one I’d used to close the many deals I’d made as I’d clawed my way up the ladder of success. The one that always worked. The smile that won clients over when they were wavering, just as Jesse was now. And then he returned it. Just as they always did.
‘Good effort but I’m not buying it.’
I felt my jaw drop.
‘What?’
‘I can certainly imagine it fools a lot of people but I’m afraid I’m not one of them.’
I turned back to the strong black coffee I’d made when I’d returned from the shower.
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
Jesse shifted his weight. ‘Pretty sure you do, but I’m not going to argue with you.’ I glanced back at him. ‘There’s too many planks of wood around here to do that.’
‘Ha ha.’ I turned away, partly to hide my confusion. I’d honed that smile over the years and it always worked, closed the deal, swung a decision my way. Until now. ‘It was an accident.’
‘It was a joke.’
I threw him a glance and he gave a shrug. He held my gaze for a moment then blew out a sigh.
‘Well, then, if you’ve got everything under control, I’ll be on my way.’
‘Right.’ I got to my feet. ‘Yes. OK. Thanks again for the help.’
‘You’re welcome.’ He took a few steps towards the badly fitting front door and I followed him. Suddenly, he stopped and turned and I was unexpectedly a lot closer than I planned. He smelled of clean laundry. No aftershave. Hurriedly, I took a step back, putting a little more space between us, and swallowed.
‘If you change your mind about having it all under control…’ Jesse glanced down at the minimalist and ridiculously expensive console table I’d placed by the door. The receipt from the DIY shop was on it, amongst a pile of yet unopened letters. His eyes took in those too, but his expression gave nothing away – another new experience. I’d made a point of studying people, learning how to read them, and it had held me in good stead with my work. It had helped me tailor my pitch to clients. But this guy? He wasn’t just a closed book; he was a closed book with a lock on it under a pile of other closed books. In a locked library.
Jesse leant over, picked up the Mont Blanc pen sitting alongside and scribbled something on the back of the receipt. ‘That’s my number.’ I raised an eyebrow and the grey eyes danced with amusement. ‘You think I’m hitting on you?’
‘Are you?’
‘No. Just to be clear, that,’ he pointed at the paper, ‘is me offering help in case you need it. That’s all. Nothing else.’
