'Oh, my lover,' she whispered.
'Of course, I'll hang on to my flat in LA—for a while, at least. In fact, I'll have to go back there soon for an editorial meeting. Look up old friends.'
'Oh.' She had to say it. 'Will Kate be there?'
'Naturally,' he replied matter of factly, but then, 'My darling, you got that wrong too, you know.' 'Did I?'
'Yes, she was over here on business—strictly business. She's the second unit director of the film company and she came across to scout out possible locations.'
'I see,' she said slowly.
'And in case you're wondering, being the perfect host, I gave up my bed to her, while I slept in the spare room.'
'But you let me believe—'
'I know—but I was angry with you, the way you were so quick to think the worst. I just hoped that you'd be consumed by jealousy, the way I was with that fiance of yours.'
'I think you might have succeeded there,' she said ruefully.
'Good.' He gave a smug smile, then, lifting her hands, softly kissed the backs of both. 'But, I promise, you'll never have reason to be jealous again. And, anyway, you can always come with me to LA—and to my place in Jamaica, of course.' A teasing grin. 'I reckon it would be ideal for a February honeymoon, don't you?'
'But it's almost the middle of February now,' she protested, then, 'Yes, please.'
'We'll keep the manor as our main base, though. You, running Petronella's Cakes—burnt whiskey cakes a speciality. Ouch!' as she aimed a kick at his shin. 'Me, writing my latest blockbuster in that little room that overlooks the orchard.'
'You're going to write—books, I mean?'
He nodded. 'I'm tired of temperamental authors griping over every improvement I make to their deathless prose. So when I've dealt with Passion—and, talking of p a s s i o n ... ' he looked at her from beneath those devastating black lashes ' . . . I need—'
You need a hot bath,' she said firmly.
Or, better still, a hot Jacuzzi.' He drained his whiskey, then caught hold of her hand. 'You can turn the taps on for me.'
'We'll see,' she replied demurely. 'You go on while I get the ointment for your shoulder.'
When she followed him next door she found that he was by the kitchen table, bending over his computer.
'For heaven's sake, go and have your bath,' she scolded. 'That sweater's really damp.'
She glanced at the words on the screen, then gave a little gasp.
Jared laughed. 'Yeah, a bit steamy, isn't it? But my blockbuster will be even better. The only problem is, I think maybe I need to put in a little research if I'm going to get those torrid lovescenes just right.'
She blushed even deeper. 'Just go upstairs, will you?'
'For lesson number one?'
'No' But she giggled. 'Make sure you're in that bath before I come up . . . '
'Is that all right?' As Jared lay back in the foaming water she ran her fingers one last time across his shoulder.
'Mmm. Much better, thanks. I must have done it when —'
'No,' she broke in quickly. 'Don't think about the storm any more.'
'I suppose I shouldn't, but it's not that easy.'
Petra carefully screwed the top on the ointment, then stood up. 'Looks as if I'll just have to take your mind off it, then.'