Oddly, she was not missing her internet connection, either.
She felt no need at all to report on the circumstances she found herself in, but rather she wanted to keep them to herself, as if they were a secret she was nurturing. There was something freeing about just allowing herself to have an experience, instead of feeling a need to divulge it to her online world.
She slid between luxurious sheets and snuggled under the lightweight down comforter. It occurred to her she should be worried: she was no closer to having cash, replacing her credit cards or getting a passport so that she could travel home at the scheduled time.
Oddly enough, when she closed her eyes, she realized she had rarely felt less worried in her entire life.
How much did that have to do with Jamie Gilbert-Cooper taking charge? She was asleep before she could answer the question.
Jessica awoke in the morning to a soft rap on her door. When she opened it, there was no one there, but the laundry bag was outside and her jacket, enclosed in a thick paper wrap, was on a hangar that had been put on the doorknob. There was also a small bag of toiletries: toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant.
For one mortifying minute she considered that he was trying to tell her something, but then she realized that was the old Jessica, too sensitive and too serious. Of course he wasn’t trying to tell her something—like that her breath was bad, though after the pizza last night that did seem like a possibility—he was being considerate!
Brushing her teeth felt exquisite. But when she pulled her hair back into its clip, put her freshly laundered clothes on, and looked at herself in the full-length mirror behind the bathroom door, she came face-to-face with that old Jessica.
How could she have changed so much in less than twenty-four hours? She hated the outfit. It seemed dull and conservative, appropriate for the floor of the Canadian House of Commons, perhaps, but for a few days in New York City? Not so much.
When she went shopping with Jamie’s sister today, she was going to choose items that were appropriate business attire, but not quite so staid. But she still had to be practical. She still had to choose things she could wear in Timber Falls.
Could you choose clothes that were practical and sexy? It was a dilemma she had not found herself in before, not even when she was shopping for her trip to Copenhagen. Shouldn’t she have known something was off with her first face-to-face meeting with Ralph when, instead of thinking of items that would be attractive, she had been thinking of travel practicalities, like wrinkle-free?
She realized she was looking forward to meeting Jamie’s sister. She wasn’t going to pry, but she was sure his sister would drop all kinds of clues as to who Jamie really was that his apartment was not giving away.
Jessica also hoped Jamie’s sister was good at fashion. She herself sucked at it. There was nothing about the growing up in Timber Falls experience that encouraged fashion-forward thinking. It was an outdoorsy lifestyle that lent itself to plaid shirts and khaki shorts and sturdy shoes for both genders. Business attire at the bookstore was blue jeans and a blouse in the summer, blue jeans and a sweater in the winter.
Jessica had a book-themed sweater collection that children adored. She felt embarrassed just thinking about it! There would be no sweaters with embroidered cats on them today. No, it was summer and she was in New York. She wanted her style to reflect something a little bolder.
Fashion-wise, would she recognize those things? She didn’t want to go over the top, after all. Once again, she longed for her phone. With it, she could have consulted with Aubrey and Daisy right from the change room, time differences notwithstanding. She could have snapped selfies and sent them, a virtual fashion show and consultation.
She stepped out of her bedroom. At the last moment, she pulled the clip from her hair, and ran a hasty hand through it.
The apartment was flooded with light. The kitchen island had on it a selection of pastries, croissants, bagels, breads and spreads.
“Good morning.” He looked at her only briefly. Did his eyes rest, for a moment, on her loose hair, before he looked hastily away?
Jamie Gilbert-Cooper was standing there, sipping coffee from a take-out cup and leafing through a newspaper he had on the counter in front of him.
She used his concentration on the paper to quickly study him. Yup. Her first impression of him was confirmed: gorgeous. He had obviously already showered: his silver hair was damp and impossibly shiny, his skin had that tender, touchable look of being freshly shaved.
He was dressed, more casually than yesterday, but still in the kind of clothes that in Timber Falls would have been reserved for a wedding. Or a funeral.
Which suddenly struck her as faintly pathetic, though she felt instantly disloyal to her hometown.
He was wearing a white shirt, with a subtle pattern in it. It was opened at the throat and rolled at the cuffs. It was tucked underneath a belt that was threaded through the loops of gray, knife-pressed pants. He had on loafers, with no socks. In Timber Falls no one ever wore shoes in the house.
“This one’s for you,” he said, pointing at a coffee. “I didn’t put anything in it, but I brought creamers and sugar packs.”
“You have a coffee maker like that—” she gestured to the machine built into his cabinetry “—and you pick it up?”
He glanced at the coffee maker. “I’m not sure I’ve ever used that. I pick up coffee and breakfast on the way to work. There’s the best little shop just down the street. Taste it and tell me if you think I could do as well.”
She picked up her coffee, removed the lid and added some
