Falling for you

‘Honestly? No.’

‘No?’ She looked distraught. ‘You don’t mean that!’ With a sigh and a surreptitious glance at his watch, Jake saw that it was eight o’clock already. Maddy, having left her mobile phone at home, was uncontactable. Sophie was staying over at Tiff’s house tonight. And since he clearly wasn’t going to be allowed to abandon Nuala in her current state of drunken grief, he may as well give up any thought now of going out.

‘Look,’ he said. ‘These things happen. You and Dexter were never right for each other.

You’ll be over him in no time.’

‘Never.’ Misjudging the angle of her glass, Nuala dribbled gin down her chin.

‘You deserve so much better,’ Jake persisted, this being a useful line he often resorted to himself.

‘Oh, do me a favour, I’m not that stupid. Anyway, you have no idea how I feel,’ Nuala said miserably. ‘How can you? You’ve never been rejected in your life.’

Jake smiled briefly to himself as he opened the fridge and pulled out a carton of orange juice. If only she knew.

Aloud he said, ‘That’s absolutely not true. I wrote a love letter to Madonna when I was twelve and did she write back? Never, not one word. I was distraught.’

As he edged towards the door, Nuala looked up fearfully, clearly terrified of being left on her own. ‘Where are you going now?’

Jake indicated the bath towel slung round his hips.

‘Call me old-fashioned, but I thought I might put some clothes on.’

Still wary, she said, ‘And after that?’

‘After that?’ Realising that he really was stuck here for the evening, Jake decided he may as well make the best of it. Ruffling Nuala’s already ruffled hair, he said affectionately, ‘I’m going to help you finish that bottle of gin.’

‘Thanks.’ Nuala’s mouth began to wobble with relief; she couldn’t have handled being abandoned by two men in one night. ‘Just to warn you though, I may get a bit weepy.’

‘Hey, don’t be daft.’ Jake flashed her a grin; he’d had to cope with more than his fair share of weeping females in his time. ‘Shoulder to cry on? I’m your man.’

By eleven o’clock the bottle of Bombay Sapphire was finished.

‘Empty. Bugger.’ Nuala looked bereft. ‘What are we supposed to do now?’

‘Stop drinking?’ said Jake. ‘It’s a miracle you’re still awake.’

‘I’m too depressed to sleep.’ She pulled a suicidal face. ‘OK if I stay here?’

‘Course you can. The bed’s made up in the spare room.’

‘Oh God, what am I going to do?’ Nuala closed her eyes in despair; every so often she forgot what had happened, then the next moment it all came rushing back to her, making her head spin with misery.

‘Everyone’s going to be sniggering behind my back. I feel so humiliated. I’ll be the laughing stock of Ashcombe.’

‘That’s rubbish. Why would anyone laugh?’

‘Because Dexter doesn’t want me any more and that makes me look stupid.’ Nuala only realised her right elbow had been propping her up when she moved it. She promptly slid sideways on the sofa, ending up in Jake’s lap.

‘You don’t have to look stupid.’ He was attempting to haul her upright again but Nuala decided she was happier horizontal. ‘Act like you’re not bothered. Put on a brave face, do yourself up and flirt for England. Isn’t that better than moping around like a wet weekend?’

‘Mmm.’ Nodding, Nuala thought how delicious Jake smelled, and how fantastic the soft cotton of his shirt felt against her cheek. He really was lovely, and — in theory — what he was saying made a lot of sense.

‘Show Dexter what he’s missing.’ Above her, Jake was still carrying on with his pep talk.

‘Make it clear you don’t need him.’

‘Because I can do so much better, you mean? Come on, look at me.’ Nuala groaned. ‘Black eye, bruises, cracked collarbone — oh yes, they’ll really be queueing up for me; Ewan McGregor, George Clooney... How am I ever going to be able to choose?’

‘Don’t put yourself down.’ Jake gave her hip an encouraging squeeze. ‘By this time next week your bruises will be gone.’

‘Big deal,’ Nuala muttered into Jake’s shirt.

‘Stop it. You’re not ugly. And you do deserve better than Dexter.’

Turning her head, Nuala blinked up at him. Jake Harvey was possibly the best-looking male she’d ever encountered in the flesh. You couldn’t look at him and not be bowled over by those cheekbones, that chiselled mouth, those incredible eyelashes of his. And he was still stroking her hi p . . .

‘ You’re better than Dexter,’ said Nuala, suddenly realising what would help her over this.

‘Well, thanks.’ Jake smiled down at her, taking it as a compliment.

Hurriedly, before she lost her nerve, Nuala said, ‘You could cheer me up.’

‘What, tell you a few jokes?’

‘Sleep with me,’ Nuala blurted out. ‘That would make me feel better.’