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I didn’t know whether to scream in frustration or shrug away the argument and write it off to experience. Neither was an option. I went into the bedroom and sank onto the bed, phone tight in my hand. Jasper’s abandoned coffee sat on the floor, the fragrance mingling with the faintly musky scent from our lovemaking.
Our fucking. We fucked. There was no love involved.
I couldn’t bear either smell to linger. I threw both coffees down the sink, and then stripped the bed and shoved the bedding into the washing machine. By the time I came out of the shower, I’d have washed away the last traces of Jasper. My one-night failure.
Twenty minutes later, I was fresh and clean, my hair was neatly tied back, and I wore what I thought of as my business outfit—a flattering black knee-length dress. Makeup came next, and then my single pair of smart boots. I’d wow the agent with my professional attitude. My focus was one hundred percent aimed on getting my catering business back on track. No last thoughts of Jasper.
I couldn’t think of the orgasms he gave me. The way he whispered my name against my ear, his lips brushing my skin and sending shivers down my spine.
No. Better to remember his guilt-wracked expression when he said we shouldn’t have slept together. How I reminded him of his ex. I mean—that was such bad etiquette in dating, to compare your current with your ex.
We weren’t dating. Not even close. “One-night fuckup,” I said aloud. It wasn’t as though I needed to see him again. I’d go back to my rental and clear out my stuff. The holiday was over.
Did he make it to the station okay? It was raining again, but this time it was a persistent drizzle. There weren’t many buses on a Sunday, and it would be a horrible walk across town in this weather for an able-bodied person, let alone someone relying on a stick. He wasn’t a cripple, and I hadn’t meant to imply that, but he was certainly not swift on his feet at the moment.
Fuck it. I couldn’t leave him to struggle. I didn’t have his phone number or Holly’s, but if I drove toward the railway station, I might see him.
There was no sign of him, despite my slow circuits around the main streets. He might have gone down one of the pedestrian-only routes or ducked into a café, or even hailed a cab.
With my guilty conscience shouting at me, I did one last search, and then turned around and headed for the property I was viewing.
Was I swift to jump to conclusions? Too quick to assume the worst of him? Maybe. I was so conditioned to seeing myself as unattractive, that from the moment he showed any interest in me, I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for him to chuckle and say it was all a joke. That he’d never in a million years see me as sexy. That would have hurt, but I could have laughed it off—at least on the outside.
My painkillers messed with his head. Perhaps they’d been the pharmaceutical equivalent of beer goggles?
What did his ex look like? And why did I care?
I parked outside the building and checked the time. Five minutes early. I opened the Facebook app on my phone and typed Jasper. I didn’t know what his surname was, and too many hits came up to search through quickly. How else could I find him? An internet search gave me the name of the gym in the little town nearest his house, and there I hit pay-dirt—a picture of the two owners, Jasper and Andy. Both wore loose fitting shorts and T-shirts, and they grinned into the camera, looking fit and healthy. Jasper looked so sexy, I broke out in a hot flush.
When I clicked on his name, I found his public profile. His surname—Clarke—and his Facebook account.
There wasn’t time to look at it now. I gazed into the rear-view mirror and smoothed back my hair, then dashed into the rain to meet the agent.
At last. A catering unit that was clean and spacious, in a good part of the city. Apart from the rental costs and the high down-payment, it was perfect. Could I afford it? Since it was the best option on the table, I’d have to.
“I’ll take it.” I gave the realtor my most confident smile. “I can get the down-payment tomorrow, when the banks open, or I can do an online transaction now. Which would you prefer?”
“Tomorrow is fine. I’ll email you the paperwork to take a look at. Come into my office to go through any questions. Any time after noon is fine.”
We swapped business cards and shook on the deal. I was tempted to hug him, although that would have put the fear of God into the poor guy. Nobody in their right mind liked random hugs.
I went back to my car, dancing on air. I wanted to celebrate, but with whom? I called Deanna, but it went to voicemail. My parents knew nothing of this latest crisis, and neither did my friends. I thought of Holly and Jasper, and remembered my earlier cyber-stalking.
I clicked on Jasper’s Facebook link. He had hundreds of friends and followers, and I scrolled through them. There was only one Cindy, but she had both a private and a public profile. She couldn’t have been more different to me. Her private account was locked down, but her public profile had a glamorous headshot of a gorgeous blonde. With her lips in a sultry pout and hair tousled around her face, the term sex kitten could have been coined for her.
She was an actress, and had appeared in several New Zealand movies, and had a small part in a popular Hollywood-made drama series. This was Jasper’s ex? The one who subjected him to headfuckery and left him gun shy of getting involved with anyone?
There had to be some mistake. I flicked back to the browser and typed her name and Jasper’s. I immediately wished I hadn’t.
The first picture I found was her and Jasper kissing on a beach, the sun setting behind them. It was a wide shot and showed writing in the damp sand at their feet. Jassy & Cindy #TrueLove.
He belonged with someone like Cindy. A super-slim girl that would go running with him and work out for hours in the gym without breaking a sweat. She was probably into yoga too, and could bend herself into a pretzel when they had sex.
I blew out a breath. Thinking of Jasper and sex in the same sentence was not a good idea. I stared at the photo on my phone. Jassy? It made him sound like a radio presenter.
Gah. Every time I closed my eyes, this image would haunt me. She was beyond beautiful, and it made last night seem even more ludicrous. Pill goggles, for sure, and the sooner I stopped thinking about him the better.