here.’
Ellie’s statement interrupted his spiralling thoughts and Jack hid his sigh of relief as she turned up a driveway and approached a wrought-iron gate. Thank God. He wasn’t sure if he could go much further.
Ellie looked at the remote in her hand, took a breath and briefly closed her eyes. He saw the tension in her shoulders and the rigid muscle in her jaw. She wasn’t comfortable... Jack cursed. If he had been operating on more than twelve hours’ sleep in four days he would have picked up that the shyness was actually tension a lot earlier. And it had increased the closer they came to her home.
‘Look, you’re obviously not happy about having me here,’ Jack said, dropping his pack to the ground. ‘Sorry. I didn’t realise. I’ll head back to the bakery—hitch a lift to the airport.’
Ellie jammed her hands into the pockets of her cut-offs. ‘No—really, Jack...I told my father I’d help you.’
‘I don’t need your charity,’ Jack said, pushing the words out between his clenched teeth.
‘It’s not charity.’ Ellie lifted up a hand and rubbed her eyes with her thumb and index finger. ‘It’s just been a long day and I’m tired.’
That wasn’t it. She was strung tighter than a guitar string. His voice softened. ‘Ellie, I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable in your own home. I told Mitch that I was happy to wait at the airport. It’s not a big deal.’
Ellie straightened and looked him in the eye. ‘I’m sorry. I’m the one who is making this difficult. Your arrival just pulled up some old memories. The last time I took in one of my father’s workmates I was chased around my house by a drunken, horny cameraman.’
He sent her his I’m-a-good-guy grin. ‘Typical. Those damn cameramen—you can’t send them anywhere.’
Ellie smiled, as he’d intended her to. He could see some of her tension dissolve at his stab at humour.
‘Sorry, I know I sound ridiculous. And I’m not crazy about talking about my relationship with Mitchell for this book you’re helping him write—’
‘I’m helping him write? Is that what he said?’ Jack shook his head. Mitchell was living in Never-Never Land. It was his book, and he was writing the damn thing. Yes, Mitchell Evans’s and Ken Baines’s names would be on the cover, but there would be no doubt about who was the author. The sizeable advance in his bank account was a freaking big clue.
‘Your father...I like him...but, jeez, he can be a pain in the ass,’ Jack said.
‘So does that mean you don’t want to talk to me about him?’ Ellie asked, sounding hopeful and a great deal less nervous.
Jack half smiled as he shook his head. ‘Sorry...I do need to talk to you about him.’
He raked his hair off his face, thinking about the book. Ken’s fascinating story was all but finished; Mitch’s was progressing. Thank God he’d resisted all the collective pressure to get him to write his. Frankly, it would be like having his chest cracked open without anaesthetic.
He was such a hypocrite. He had no problems digging around other people’s psyches but was more than happy to leave his own alone.
Jack looked at Ellie, saw her still uncertain expression and was reminded that she was wary of having a strange man in her house. He couldn’t blame her.
‘And as for chasing you around your house? Apart from the fact that I am so whipped I couldn’t make a move on a corpse, it really isn’t my style.’
Ellie looked at him for a long moment and then her smile blossomed. It was the nicest punch to the heart he’d ever received.
TWO
Jack looked up a lavender-lined driveway to the house beyond it. It was a modest two-storey with Old World charm, wooden bay windows and a deep veranda, nestled in a wild garden surrounded by a high brick wall. The driveway led up to a two-door garage. He didn’t do charming houses—hell, he didn’t do houses. He had a flat that he barely saw, boxes that were still unpacked, a fridge that was never stocked. In many ways his flat was just another hotel room: as impersonal, as bland. He wasn’t attached to any of his material possessions and he liked it that way.
Attachment was not an emotion he felt he needed to become better acquainted with...either to possessions or partners.
‘Nice place,’ Jack said as he walked up the stairs onto a covered veranda. Ellie took a set of keys from the back pocket of those tight shorts. It was nice—not for him, but nice—a charming house with loads of character.
‘The house was my grandmother’s. I inherited it from her.’
Jack glanced idly over his shoulder and his breath caught in his throat. God, what a view!
‘Oh, that is just amazing,’ he said, curling his fingers around the wooden beam that supported the veranda’s roof. Looking out over the houses below, he could see a sweeping stretch of endless beach that showed the curve of the bay and the sleepy blue and green ocean.
‘Where are we, exactly?’ he asked.
Ellie moved to stand next to him. ‘On the False Bay coast. We’re about twenty minutes from the CBD of Cape Town, to the south. That bay is False Bay and you can see about thirty kilometres of beach from here. Kalk Bay is that way—’ she pointed ‘—and Muizenberg is up the coast.’
‘What are those brightly coloured boxes on the beach?’
‘Changing booths. Aren’t they fun? The beach is hugely popular, and if you look just north of the booths, at the tables and chairs under the black and white striped awning, that’s where we were—at Pari’s.’
‘It’s incredible.’
‘Your room looks out onto the beach and the bathroom has a view of the Muizenberg Mountain behind us. There are some great walks and biking trails in the nature reserve behind us.’
Ellie nudged one of two almost identical blond Labradors aside in an attempt to get close enough to the front door and shove her key in the lock. Pushing open the wooden door with its stained glass window insert, she gestured for Jack to come into the hall as she automatically hung her bag onto a decorative hook.
‘The bedrooms are upstairs. I presume that you’d like a shower? Something to eat? Drink?’
He probably reeked like an abandoned rubbish dump. ‘I’d kill for a shower.’
Jack had an impression of more bright colours and eclectic art as he followed Ellie up the wooden staircase. There was a short passage and then she opened the door to a guest bedroom: white and lavender linen on a double bed, pale walls and a ginger cat curled up on the royal purple throw.
‘Meet Chaos. The en-suite bathroom is through that door.’
Ellie picked up Chaos and cradled the cat like a baby. Jack scratched the cat behind its ears and Chaos blinked sleepily.
Jack thankfully dropped his backpack onto the wooden floor and sat down on the purple throw at the end of the bed while
