“Yeah, that’s what it looks like,” Joshua replies dryly
“Does he know I’m here?” I ask.
“I don’t know. If he saw your car, he didn’t say anything.”
“Just get back into bed, Bridget, and wait for me here,” Ben mutters as he throws on a T-shirt.
“You would just love that, wouldn’t you? Are you going to bring him up here to catch me out?” I whisper angrily.
Ben rolls his eyes.
“I’ll leave you two platonic conversationalists to bicker in peace.” Joshua smirks.
“Fuck off, Joshua. We’re just friends!” I snap.
“Okay.” He leaves the room. “Whatever you say,” he calls from the landing.
I pick up a T-shirt from Ben’s floor and whip him with it. “What are you going to say?”
“Fuck off, I’m busy.” He smirks.
My eyes widen. “You’re not going to tell him that I’m here, are you? Oh no, please don’t tell him.”
He narrows his eyes at me and puts his hands on his hips. “You’re starting to piss me off right now, Bridget.”
“I’m pissing you off? Well, you’re pissing me off!” I whisper angrily.
“How so?”
“Oh, just lying around, being all fucking sexy. I’m not falling for it, Ben.”
“I was in fucking bed, minding my own business,” he replies.
“And, of course, you had to be naked and pulling on your dick, didn’t you?” I whisper as I start to push him to the door. “Super convenient.”
He chuckles, and I start to hyperventilate. “Go down there and get rid of him, but don’t tell him I’m here,” I whisper.
“What if he wants to search my room?”
My eyes widen. “What?” I shriek. “Oh, my fucking God.”
“I’m joking.” He laughs.
“Oh, my God, Ben, this is serious. Can you be serious for a moment, please?”
He turns to face me, and this time he does fall serious. “Wait here for me… In my bed.” His voice is deep and commanding, and damn, I know if I wait here it’s go time when he gets back. With one last look, he exits the room and disappears downstairs. I close the door quietly behind him and begin to pace.
What now?
I sit on his bed for ten minutes as I wait for him to return, and I look around the room. I pick up his pillow and smell it.
Damn… he smells good. I inhale deeply again and then I see his suitcase in the walk-in wardrobe. I wonder what he’s got in there. I walk in and flick on the light, closing the door behind me.
Hmm, a toiletries bag. I feel like a criminal as my eyes flicker to the door as I slowly unzip the bag. Deodorant, toothpaste and toothbrush, cologne…
I take the lid off and inhale. Hmm, that’s the shit.
Condoms… fuck. A huge box of condoms. I read the packet.
Extra Pleasure for Bigger Men
I narrow my eyes. For fuck’s sake, he pisses me off. Why does he have to be so damn well-endowed? I notice the seal is still intact. He probably has a stash in his wallet. Actually, where is his wallet? I walk back out into the room and look around. I see his jeans on the floor in the bathroom from last night and walk over and search his pockets.
Bingo! Wallet found.
I open it up and my heart stops.
An image of me sits in the photo section. I stare at it for a moment as I try to remember where it was taken. Ah, that’s it. It’s in the hospital when my grandmother was dying. I’m sitting on a hospital chair and smiling up at him. I’m wearing a white dress and the photo was taken before we were together. I still remember the day he took it.
Why does he have this in his wallet?
I look in the compartment in the back and, sure enough, there’re three condoms. Fuck… I hate men.
I slide out his credit card and read it:
Ben Statham
I slide out the next one and read the name.
Ben Statham
I slide out the next one.
Jake Martin
Who is Jake Martin, and why does he have his credit card? I slide the next card out.
Jake Martin
Huh? Two credit cards from different banks in another name. Who is it? Is it him? Is Ben even his name?
“What are you doing?” Ben snaps from behind me. I jump, startled at being caught.
“Oh… Oh…” I stammer. “Who’s Jake Martin?”
He snatches the wallet from me. “I use the name Jake Martin when I work undercover.”
“When do you work undercover?” I frown.
“I’m a private investigator, Bridget.” He widens his eyes as if I’m stupid. “All the time. Will you stop snooping?” He walks back into the bedroom.
“Why do you have a photo of me in your wallet?” I blurt out.
He turns to face me. “I’m pretty sure you can work that one out for yourself, Einstein.” He sits on the bed and begins to put his shoes on, clearly annoyed at my detective work.