be just what she needs to boost her confidence,’ Greg said. ‘A meaningless affair with a man she won’t think twice about leaving when it’s time to say goodbye.’
‘I’m not putting my hand up for the job just yet,’ Jake said. ‘Not unless I hand over a thousand bucks to one of my sisters.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I made a bet with her over Christmas dinner,’ Jake said. ‘No sex for three months.’
Greg’s brows rose. ‘So how’s that working out for you?’
Jake gave him a rueful look as he shouldered open the door. ‘Let’s put it this way,’ he said. ‘I’m spending a whole lot more time at the gym.’
JAKE was on his way back to his town house after a heavy session at the gym when he saw Kitty in the car park, washing a car that had seen better days. She was wearing a pair of shorts that ended at mid-thigh and a loose-fitting T-shirt. Her hair was up in a high ponytail, swinging from side to side as she rubbed the soapy sponge over the duco of her four-cylinder vehicle. She looked young and nubile and so sexy he felt a surge of lust go through him like a rocket blast. Her small but perfect breasts were outlined behind the clingy dampness of her T-shirt, and every time she bent over he caught a delectable glimpse of her creamy flesh. She was humming to herself—a tune he was familiar with but couldn’t quite place. She had a hose in her other hand and it was spraying water all over the concrete, running in wasteful rivulets down the storm water drain.
‘I hate to take on the role of the fun police but you can’t do that around here,’ he said.
She jumped and turned around so quickly the high-pressure hose in her hand shot him straight in the groin with a blast of cold water.
He let out a stiff curse as he stepped out of the line of fire. ‘What the hell?’
‘Sorry,’ she said, pointing the hose at the ground, where it sprayed water all over the concrete at her feet. ‘I didn’t hear you. You scared the wits out of me, coming from nowhere like that.’
He frowned in irritation as he brushed off what water he could from his sodden gym shorts. ‘Will you turn off the damn hose, for God’s sake?’
She gave her head a little toss that sent her ponytail swinging again. ‘I’m washing my new car.’
‘You can’t use a hose to do that.’
‘Why ever not?’ she asked, looking at him defiantly. ‘How else am I supposed to wash it? Lick it clean?’
Jake looked at her mouth—a habit of his just lately that he couldn’t seem to break. He could think of places he would much rather have her lick with her tongue than the dusty duco of her second-hand bomb. ‘We have water restrictions here,’ he said. ‘You can’t use a hose to water the garden or wash your car during summer. You have to use a bucket. If you get caught there are hefty fines.’
‘Oh…’ She looked at the running hose and bit down on her lip. ‘I didn’t realise.’
Jake moved over to turn the hose off at the tap, asking over his shoulder. ‘Where did you get the car?’
Her chin came up a fraction. ‘I bought it.’
He came over and ran a hand over the dented paintwork of the front fender. ‘How much did you pay for it?’ he asked.
She pursed her lips for a tiny heartbeat. ‘It wasn’t expensive,’ she said. ‘I didn’t want to spend a fortune because I’m only going to be using it for three months.’
‘Let’s hope it lasts that long,’ Jake said, kicking one of the threadbare tyres with his right foot.
‘I’m sure it’s perfectly fine,’ she said, with a little flash of her grey gaze.
‘Did you take it for a test drive?’
Her eyes flickered a little, as if something behind them had come loose. ‘I drove it around the block at the owner’s house and then back to here,’ she said. ‘It ran smoothly enough.’
Jake grunted. ‘Good luck on restarting it.’
Her lips went tight again. ‘I’m sure it will start first go,’ she said. ‘It’s only had one owner.’
‘How many clicks on the clock?’
A little frown pulled at her brow. ‘Clicks?’
‘Kilometres.’
‘Oh…’ She nibbled at her lip again and stepped past him to peer through the driver’s window. ‘Forty-two thousand.’
Jake rolled his eyes. ‘Make that two hundred and forty-two thousand—maybe even more.’
She frowned at him again. ‘What do you mean?’
‘That model is ten years old,’ he said. ‘Even a little old lady only driving to church on Sundays would’ve clicked up more than that. You’ve been sold a lemon, Dr Cargill. Someone’s turned the clock back on it for sure.’
She shifted her eyes from his to the car and back again. ‘I suppose you think I’m gullible,’ she said with a hint of defiance.
‘Have you ever bought a car before?’ Jake asked.
‘I…’ Her slim throat rose and fell as she swallowed. ‘I used to share one. I lived close to the hospital in London so I didn’t really need one of my own.’
Jake gave the windscreen wipers a quick inspection. ‘These need replacing,’ he said, dusting his hands on his shorts. ‘I can get a new set of rubbers for you from a mate of mine. He owns an auto parts shop.’
‘I wouldn’t want to put you or your friend to any bother,’ she said, looking resentful and yet vulnerable and adorably cute all at the same time.
‘It’s no trouble,’ Jake said. ‘You’ll need new tyres soon too. That rear one is practically bald.’
She worked at her bottom lip again with her teeth, looking at the car with a defeated look on her expressive heart-shaped face.
‘Don’t worry,’ Jake said. ‘I’m sure it’ll get you to the hospital and back all right. But I wouldn’t take it on any long journeys until you’ve had it checked by a mechanic. I can give you the name of one who’ll take care of it for you without ripping you off.’
‘Thank you…’ She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear in a discomfited gesture.
‘I’ll get you a bucket,’ he said. ‘I have one in my garage.’
‘Please don’t bother,’ she said.
‘It’s no bother.’ Jake walked towards his garage and, fishing his remote
