‘It’s all right here,’ he said. ‘I never thought there’d be bits like this. I thought it’d all be horse guards and . . . I dunno. Big Ben.’
‘There’s so much to London. Much more than you could take in in a whole year. I missed it, when I was in LA.’
‘Do you miss LA?’
‘No. Well, it’s summer. Ask me again in six months and my answer might be different. But on the whole – no.’
‘You don’t miss that life?’
She turned to Jason. ‘You know, sitting here, by the river, eating gorgeous food with a gorgeous man, knowing that I have a project to sink my teeth into and so much to look forward to . . . Well, what do you think?’
He swallowed at that, and looked away for a moment.
‘You feel like that?’ he said quietly.
‘Yes. After years of just running to keep up with myself, I feel I’m doing what I want, at last. And loving it.’
‘I’ve never had anything to look forward to before,’ said Jason. ‘I mean, a feeling that there’s a point to it all. It’s weird.’ He flashed her a sudden, heart-stopping smile. ‘It’s nice. Tell me it’s real.’
She put a hand on his.
‘It’s real.’
They shared a brief but heartfelt kiss, then finished the remains of their lunch.
‘I hope you’re sitting comfortably on that bench,’ said Jason, his mood skipping along with the sunbeams from emotional to teasing. ‘Cos you won’t be, later on.’
‘What do you mean? We’re going to meet that craftsman, aren’t we? That’s all.’
‘Is it?’ said Jason, eyeing her roguishly. ‘Is it all?’
‘What are you saying?’
‘Come on. Let’s go and find him.’ He pulled her up, dropped their bag of rubbish into the nearest bin, and began to run with her across the cobbles, into the heart of the district of restored warehouses that loomed around the market.
Jenna was aware of the attention they were drawing, and she dreaded it in her heart, yet she felt so joyous and free at the same time that it didn’t seem to matter as much as it might. This was like being young again, like taking a picnic to the fields with Deano and running down to the river, stripping off, swimming in its shallow sparkle. And why shouldn’t she feel young? She was only thirty-five, damn it, not an old timer. To hell with being on top and in control and mature and sensible all the bloody time.
He whirled her around a corner, into a dark alleyway between warehouses, and pushed her up against the wall before descending upon her with all the passion and abandonment she had come to know from him.
‘Mmm, babe,’ he drawled, releasing her ravished mouth. ‘I want him to see that lipstick smeared all over your face and know you’ve just been snogged half to death.’
Jenna started to ask why, but Jason resumed the kiss with all the energy and thoroughness of somebody who trained at it for several hours a day.
‘Because this time,’ he whispered, answering the question she had never had the chance to pose, ‘I want to be seen to be the client. Not you. I want to be the one who has the idea, and you to be the one who goes along with it.’
‘A reversal of what we did at the charm school?’
‘Yeah, if you want to put it that way.’
‘You want to save your pride.’
‘Perhaps I do.’
Jenna hid her face in his shoulder.
‘I was going to ask if you could see this bloke a
lone. Let me go back to the hotel and meet you there.’