“He wants to start training.”
I laugh sarcastically. “What, to get himself in better shape for the twenty-one-year-old he cheated on Lizzy with?”
Micky shrugs. “Not my business.”
I’m laughing again, but this time on the inside. I wish he’d adopt the same approach to me and my fuck-up. I look down at my phone and sigh. “How’d it get to four o’clock?” I ask the screen, bracing myself to get my arse back to my studio so I can agonize over my problem some more. And I mean the roof problem. I’m going to have to admit defeat soon and revise all my plans, and then break the bad news to Colin.
“Four? Shit!” Micky jumps up from his chair and throws a tenner on the table. “I have a session with Charlie.” He rushes around the table and smacks a kiss on my cheek. “See ya later.”
“Have fun!” I call, gathering up my things and getting on my way. My phone rings three more times before I make it to the Tube—all Jack—and I reject every single call. After last night, avoiding Jack is top of my priority list.
*
I look up from the pavement as I near my house, my feet slowing to a stop when I see a silver Audi parked up over the road. What the hell?
The driver’s door opens, and Jack gets out of his car, his tall body straightening to full height slowly. I spend a few too many seconds taking him in, as if I need to remind myself of his sheer magnificence. The sleeves of his pale blue shirt are rolled up, his hard forearms on full display, as well as his throat from his open collar.
I ignore him, pretend he isn’t there, and focus on putting my front door between us.
“Hey.” Jack’s soft voice blazes a trail up my back, igniting panic as I get closer. I start frantically searching for my keys in my bag.
“Annie?”
Where the hell are my keys? Suddenly his hand is on my back, and I whirl around clumsily, pressing my body into the wood of my door. “What do you want?” I blurt, sounding as scared as I feel.
Jack’s head tilts, and he shakes his head as if trying to gather some patience. “Why haven’t you answered my calls? Or replied to my voicemail?”
“I think it’s best I deal with Richard in future.”
His face takes on an angry edge, his nostrils flaring. “Why’s that?”
“Because…” I don’t want to say it out loud. I don’t want to admit that whatever this is between us is slowly breaking me down and if I don’t remedy it soon, I might go where no woman should go. “I just think it’s for the best.”
“I don’t,” he replies shortly.
I look at him in shock. “What you think doesn’t matter.”
His gray eyes narrow to slits. “I’ve been trying to get hold of you because I thought of something.”
“What?” I ask warily.
“A solution to your problem.”
“Which problem?” I blurt out without thought, making him recoil a little. Shit! I seriously need to fix that filter.
“I was referring to the roof,” he says, looking at me with interest. “Why, is there another problem?” He’s goading me, trying to press my buttons and force a confession out of me—how I can’t stop thinking about him, how my body burns with want for him. He can try all he likes.
“No, there’s not.” He knows as well as I do that we have more than a construction problem here, and we need to sort it out quickly. If it can be sorted out at all. “What’s your solution?”
“To which problem?” he asks seriously.
I breathe in a patience-building shot of air. And maybe a resistance-strengthening one, too. “My roof problem,” I clarify, keeping my face straight and serious.
“Oh, that problem.” A sick smile ghosts his lips, a knowing smile.
“This isn’t funny, Jack.”
“I’m not laughing, Annie.” He points to his car. “I think I have a solution to our roof problem. I’ll show you.”
I look to his car, as wary as I should be, and back to Jack. “Show me what?”
“A project we undertook last year. A museum.” I frown, and he goes on. “The structure wasn’t adequate to take the roof.”
My back straightens. “And what did you do?”
He sighs tiredly, stepping back to give me space. “Let me show you?” He’s not begging, but he’s not far from it. “I want to see your roof come to life as much as you do, Annie. I want to help you.”
I try to read his body language, try to figure him out, totally torn. I don’t know whether he’s purposely trying to entice me, or whether he genuinely wants to help me. But there’s only one way to find out.
“I’ll follow you there,” I say, hoping I’m not making a huge mistake.
*
The drive takes a good twenty minutes, me tailing his silver Audi in my Golf, and the whole time my mind is batting back and forth between my work problem and my personal problem. Every time I think work, though, Jack overpowers those thoughts and I find my mind reeling with so many questions. Questions about his wife, their relationship, the so-called rumors about her. But as quickly as those questions pop into my head, they go when I remind myself that it’s none of my business or concern. Focus, Annie. Focus on work.
I pull up behind Jack outside an Edwardian-style building and join him on the pavement. “This?” I ask, looking up at the stone fa?ade.
“It’s at the rear.” He wanders ahead, leaving me to follow. “This way.”
I make my way around the back of the building, keeping my distance, finding myself in a beautifully manicured garden. “This is a museum?” I ask, taking a few steps down to the face of the building.
“Dedicated to a local artist who died in the ’50s.” Jack points upward, and I follow his indication to look at the roof. “It’s not glass, but it’s pretty hefty.”
“And how did you support it adequately?”
Jack moves to a window and points inside. “Come here.”
I make my way over, curious, and join him at the window, but my height prevents me from seeing through the raised glass. “I can’t…oh!” I’m lifted from my feet and presented to the window. “Jack!”
“See that back wall?” he asks, ignoring my panicked screech.
I try to numb myself to the feel of his big hands on my waist, looking through the window. “Yes,” I practically squeak.
“That was where the building ended. The original wall was too old and weak to sustain the pitched roof of the extension, so we basically demolished it and rebuilt it with a double skin using reclaimed stone. It meant no support columns had to be used, so the space remained open.”
“And you think we could do the same on Colin’s project?” I ask, trying not to let my excitement get the better of me before we know for sure.
“We’ll need to have the structural engineer confirm it.” He lowers me to my feet, moving his hands away. I faff with my dress in an attempt to look unaffected by the fact that his big hands had me held at that window with absolutely no effort. “But I can’t see there being a problem at all.”
I lose the ability to contain my excitement, looking up at him. “Really?”