Page 42 of Loving Jemima
It was true that she’d done first aid. But she’d also seen how everyone drew back, how no one had wanted to take responsibility, and it had both scared and disgusted her. So she’d walked forward. And… and she’d done well.
She washed off in the bathroom, pulling on some lounge pants and a tank before going back out to the open plan living area. She’d done well and now, perhaps, she was being rewarded because Ellie was sitting here, perched on the edge of the couch like she was afraid to sit on it.
Jem’s core tightened, warmth started to run through her veins. Okay, this wasn’t quite what she’d planned, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, could they?
“You didn’t get a drink,” Jem said, pouring herself one. “What can I get you?”
“Nothing,” said Ellie. “Thank you. I need to get out of your hair. I just wanted to make sure that you were alright.”
“All in one piece, as you can see,” said Jem, coming around to the couch. She sat down and very carefully, almost discreetly, Ellie moved a centimeter or so away.
“Well then, I’ll be off.”
“There’s no hurry,” said Jem, wondering if she should call for food, wondering if the sheets were clean.
Not that she was assuming anything but… But Ellie was here, wasn’t she? And she was attractive and… And Jem was lonely. It took a second to realize that. She’d been afraid and now she wanted someone and Ellie was there.
“We have that meeting at the hotel tomorrow,” Ellie said. She stood up. “We don’t want to be late.”
“It’s six o’clock,” snorted Jem.
“And I really need to leave.”
“Why? To read your books?”
“Been talking to Mo, I see,” Ellie said with a small smile. “I get that my life might seem boring to someone like you, but I’ll have you know that I’m very comfortable where I am, thank you very much. My life is… comfortable.”
“My couch is comfortable,” Jem said, raising an eyebrow.
It was Ellie’s turn to snort. “My entire flat could probably fit in your toilet.”
“Ha ha.”
“I’m serious.”
Jem frowned. “Really? I mean, I know I’m lucky, obviously, but, well, your place can’t be that small.”
“I’ll show you some time,” Ellie said. Then she clamped her mouth shut like she’d said something she didn’t mean.
Which was probably exactly what Jem needed. This was stupid, she was being stupid, she got the message. Ellie had been kind and was making sure she was alright, nothing more than that. They were professionals. She’d forgotten that part.
And she’d forgotten just how much Ellie wasn’t interested. Forgotten almost that Ellie had turned her down in the first place. Which still stung, because she was pretty and fun and rich and ticked all the boxes, surely?
Except for Ellie. Ellie standing there in her black pants and white shirt and black jacket, looking like a waiter at a French bistro and yet still somehow very, very sexy. The way the cheap jacket clung to her curves, the way the sensible mid-heel shoes elongated her legs, the way her hair was just the right kind of curly-messy.
The way her eye makeup had smudged a little over the day until her dark eyes looked smoky.
The way her lips were swollen.
The way…
“I need to get out of here,” Ellie said, breaking the spell.
Jem crossed her legs, squeezing them together and feeling heat. “Right, off you pop then.”
“I didn’t…” Ellie took a breath. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”