His Irresistible Darling - Sarah Randall Page 0,58

although he did risk life and limb every time she drove.

He didn’t allow himself to relax and take a deep breath until he had her back safely.

“Th-thanks for coming to get me,” she stuttered sheepishly on the drive back to his apartment. “I guess these things don’t just come in threes, hey.”

“Huh?” he asked, tilting his head. “What things?”

“Bad luck.” She lifted up her hand to count them off. “First the whole drugging thing, then my tyres, then my bag gets stolen and now my car breaks down. I’d call that bad luck. Glad I’m not getting on a plane any time soon,” she joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“What do you mean tyres—plural? It was more than one?” he asked confused, looking over at her, concern etched on his face.

“Erm, yes,” she confirmed. “It was all four of them if you can believe that. Someone slashed them. Kids probably although I’m not sure how they would have got past the guard on the gate.”

Jumal reached for her arm. “What?” he shouted. “Why didn’t you tell me it was all of them? I just assumed it was a puncture. One,” he said holding up his index finger for emphasis. “I didn’t look at the invoice the garage sent though,” he told her, clearly annoyed by the omission, and dropped his head. “You should have told me, Pippa,” he admonished.

“I’m sorry!” she yelled back at him. “I guess I just didn’t think you’d be that interested,” she added, lowering her tone.

Jumal went silent. He was brooding about something so she just let him get on with it and thought about a nice long hot bath, a glass of wine and some chocolate fudge. Surely she deserved that after the night she’d had.

She walked straight into the kitchen and took two glasses from the cupboard, poured them both a large glass of red wine and took a long drink from her glass. Her back was to Jumal who she just knew had taken up position on a bar stool, elbows likely resting on the table, chin balanced on his interlaced fingers. Classic Jumal pose. She didn’t want him to see her hands were shaking or wait for him to start lecturing her once again so left his glass where she’d poured it, refilled her own glass and sailed from the room decisively.

“I’m going for a bath,” she called out to him as she walked into her bedroom.

“What was that?” she heard him shout from the kitchen but she didn’t have the energy to talk any more. She slammed her door with a little more force than she intended and gathered the necessities for a long, hot soak. iPod. Wine. Chocolate.

She let out a satisfying moan as she lowered her body into the hot, oil-infused water. She finally turned on the jets.

Jumal’s bathroom was one of her favourite rooms in his apartment. Huge free-standing bath positioned on a raised marble plinth with a huge walk-in shower that would easily fit five people in it—if you were into that kind of thing—and a his ‘n’ hers basin set in a matching marble counter. The intimate floor lighting was relaxing and there was a television fitted into the marble. Apparently Jumal liked to watch sports in the bath. That little nugget had genuinely surprised her—not that he loved watching sport, but that he liked taking baths!

Pip loved her baths, really loved her baths and could spend hours in one given the opportunity. The rest of the apartment was typically male: lots of chrome and functionality, minimalistic to the extreme. Black sofa and chairs, flat screen the size of a small car.

She popped on her new headphones and closed her eyes to relax. Bliss.

She screamed as the overhead light burst on, blinding her. “Aaggghh, bloody hell, Jumal.” She screamed again, ducking as much of her body as possible under the water without wetting her headphones as she dragged them off her ears.

“Agh, shit, Pippa, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were in there. I thought you were in your room,” he offered, indicating with his thumb over his shoulder, and then took a moment to peer around the dim room. “In my defence the light wasn’t on and I did knock just to make sure.” He looked around the room and gestured with his arm. “What’s with all the bloody candles?”

“Yeah, well I had the soddin’ headphones on and the candles help me relax.”

She watched his eyes narrow on her body, which had risen slightly out