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He thought for a moment. ‘No, I don’t.’ He let the compliment, if that’s what it was, sink in. ‘Unfortunately.’
‘Why unfortunately?’
‘Because some things are a lot easier when you have a friend around.’
All right. He’d got her now. After that, she couldn’t say no. ‘What things?’
‘I’ve inherited a house from my father. I need to go up there next weekend as there are some things I need to sort out. I’d really appreciate some company.’
Jess pressed her burning cheek against the cool, brushed steel wall of the lift. So Greg had secrets. That was okay, everyone had one or two. His family had money. That wasn’t exactly his fault. As a colleague, even as a friend, that wouldn’t have mattered one way or the other.
He wasn’t either of those any more, though. Not quite a lover yet, but Jess was becoming acutely aware that it would only take one touch. One kiss, and this time nothing would be able to stop them.
And if they didn’t stop? If they went ahead? Greg would have the power to tip her well-ordered life on its head. Jess had no doubt whatsoever that he would, that was what Greg was like, he thought outside the box. The scariest thing about it was that this only made him even more irresistible.
She sighed. There was no guarantee that he wouldn’t transform her world and then leave. If the hospital grapevine was anything to go by, that’s exactly what he would do. But that didn’t matter any more. However many reasons there were to have nothing more to do with Greg, she was going with him next weekend. That was all there was to it.
CHAPTER THREE
JESS’S WARDROBE WASN’T large, but it was focussed. Plain skirts and trousers and an assortment of matching blouses for work. A tailored suit for interviews, a few pairs of jeans, ranging from new to falling to pieces, and tops, ranging from very warm to very summery. A dress, bought for a summer wedding, which she’d worn only once. Nothing seemed suitable for a visit to the house that Greg had inherited from his father, which sounded large—no, sprawling—and far grander than anything she was used to.
Going out and buying something might have been an option, but she felt unequal to the task. New clothes would only serve to make her feel more uncomfortable anyway. Taking a little more care with her hair and make-up and choosing favourite pieces from her wardrobe would have to be enough.
‘You look nice. I like your scarf.’ He grinned as he took her coat and weekend bag, opening the passenger door of his car for her.
It was the one thing she’d allowed herself to buy. A pretty lilac scarf that went with her plain grey trousers and sweater and the black leather jacket that she normally kept for best. Greg was wearing jeans and a warm, slightly battered, leather jacket but he had a knack of making scruffy look stylish. Sexy too, but Jess was trying not to think too much about that.
‘Do you want to put your jacket in the back? It’s a long drive.’ Greg had taken his own off and slung it on the back seat before getting into the car.
‘Yes. Thanks.’ She shrugged out of her jacket and he took it, draping it carefully over his.
‘Right, then.’ He twisted the key in the ignition. ‘Let me know if you get cold and I’ll turn the heat up.’
By the time they reached the suburbs she was feeling hot and cold by turn. When they hit the motorway, her stomach began to lurch. What was she doing? She’d been so brave, so thoughtless in agreeing to come away with him. He was so much more than a nice guy and a good doctor. He was sophisticated, drop-dead gorgeous and far more than a girl like her could handle. She was sure to make a fool of herself.
‘You okay?’
‘Hmm? Yes, fine.’ Jess turned her head away from him, staring at the hard shoulder of the motorway.
‘Sure?’
Cold perspiration began to form on the side of her brow. Suddenly she felt trapped, carried inexorably towards goodness only knew what. ‘Um. Actually, I do feel a little sick.’
‘Did you have breakfast this morning?’
She hadn’t had time. She had been too busy fussing over her packing and her appearance and stressing about her trip with Greg. ‘Not really… ’
‘There’s motorway services a mile up ahead. We’ll stop there.’
Just to swell the small fountain of misery that was bubbling up inside her chest, he helped her out of the car when they parked. And because standing made her head swim, she allowed him to. He kept hold of her until she was seated in the corner of the bleak, utilitarian cafeteria and then hurried to fetch toast and two cups of tea.
‘Feeling better?’ An awkward silence had only been rendered slightly more acceptable by having something to eat and drink.
‘Yes. I’m fine, just one of those stupid things.’
He gave the throw-away line rather more consideration that it deserved. ‘I could try acupressure.’
‘Since when have you done acupressure?’ Suddenly there was something to talk about. Something they shared. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve been getting into alternative medicine.’
