Chapter 21 Leah
Leah
The kiss that wasn’t a kiss seared her skin to the bone. When reality flooded in like a splash of icy water to the face, Leah scrabbled to get them back on track.
“Why don’t I get rid of the tray and get dressed while you have a nap? And when you wake up, if you want me to, I can read some more.”
“Sounds good.”
Was that reluctance in his voice or was she imagining it?
“Would it help if I took your phone?” Leah asked. “I can wake you if Natalia calls with something urgent. But don’t worry if you’d rather not.”
Jackson picked up his cell from the nightstand and held it out without hesitation. Leah hopped off the bed, gathered the remnants of their breakfast, and tucked his phone onto the side of the tray.
When she reached the door, he called out. “Leah?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you for breakfast. Thank you for changing the sheets. And thank you for calling my office.”
“You’re welcome, Jax.”
She found herself singing all morning; it was a good thing no one was around to complain. Jackson and his bedroom lured her like a siren call, but Leah reminded herself he’d handled every other migraine in his life without her help.
She was developing a covetous obsession with all the new parts of him that were slowly being revealed to her.
It was as if each detail sat inside his closed fist and he was cautiously peeling back his fingers to show her.
Surprisingly, she liked who she saw beneath the hostile, granite-faced exterior he used as a front.
On the kitchen counter, his phone began to ring. The single word—“Dad”—on the screen paused her hand for a second. And then she answered it.
“Hello, Jackson’s phone.”
There was a momentary silence. “Who is this?” The aggressive bite of Alistair Hale was unmistakable.
“It’s Leah Raven. We met at the weekend.”
“Where’s Jackson?”
“He’s recovering from his migraine. He’s asleep right now.”
Another pause, accompanied by a loud exhale. “Why are you answering his phone? He has a PA for that.”
“Not here, he doesn’t. Jackson’s still at Amity Court.” Leah’s voice tightened at Mr. Hale’s complete disregard for his son’s health.
He cursed and muttered something she didn’t catch. “Put him on the phone.”
Leah took a deep breath. “If it’s a personal matter, I can get Jackson to call you back a little later. Otherwise, if it’s work-related, can I ask you to call Oliver or Natalia, please?”
“What?” Mr. Hale’s voice was ominously low.
“Oliver and Natalia are both in the office today—they’ve promised to deal with anything that crops up unless it’s extremely urgent. If they feel it’s something only Jackson can handle, I’m sure one of them will call him later to discuss it. When he’s awake.”
She listened for a reaction but heard only the air he sucked in through his teeth. With a garbled curse and no goodbye, Mr. Hale disconnected the call, leaving Leah with even lower expectations of a Facebook friend request from him any time soon.
Opening Esther’s Instagram account on her laptop, she scrolled past a targeted ad for an iPad Pro, which she coveted but would never be able to afford, and settled down to answer direct messages and schedule posts.
She’d achieved precisely eight minutes of work when Sam’s car pulled up on the drive and Leah leaped up to let him in before he could ring the bell.
“Dinner at ours next weekend?” he asked as she opened the door, his head cocked like a spaniel watching its owner pull on outdoor shoes. “Grouchy McMoody can come too, if he’s around.”
Sam’s teasing came too soon after she’d seen Jackson stripped of his outer shell. “Look, he—”
She got no further before Sam held up both hands in defense. “I’m teasing, I’m teasing! You don’t have to go all attack dog on me. I think it’s cute you both have each other’s back.”
Leah flushed. “What d’you mean?”
Sam’s eyes danced. “He pulled Niamh up pretty sharp when she made a comment about them outsourcing your job, that’s all. He said your abilities were irreplaceable—especially your artistic talent. And that’s a direct quote.”
“Seriously?” She couldn’t believe it. “At dinner last weekend?”
“Yup. If it helps, I don’t think she was trying to stir. But it can’t be easy knowing your boyfriend is living with another woman.”
“They’re not dating,” Leah murmured, only half of her mind on Sam’s words. A thrilled bloom of quiet pride painted a rainbow of color over the foyer.
“Well, isn’t that fortunate for you, my little smitten kitten?” Sam wrapped a brotherly arm around her shoulders. “Make me a cup of coffee and tell me why I haven’t seen any of your artwork yet. I hate being out of the loop. It makes me sulky.”
He was sensitive enough not to push her further about Jackson, although Leah had no doubt he was just biding his time. She filled him in on the weekend visit from Jackson’s parents and the migraine that had kept him at Amity Court.
“He could do with some distance from his dad. Mixing a rocky personal relationship with business must be tough,” he said.
“My parents have always been great, but Kash still struggles with his. It leaves a mark, even when you don’t need their acceptance to live your life.
” Sam broke off and grinned. “Fortunately for Kash, he’s lucky enough to work with me. ”
Forced to show him her art, Leah let him flick through her recent designs.
“These are amazing. There must be loads of people who’d pay for book art like this?” Sam studied a piece she’d done for the website. “If you don’t have a social media profile of your own, you should set one up. What do they say? ‘If you never try, you’ll never know.’ What do you have to lose?”
Over his shoulder, she tried to view her work with fresh eyes and was surprised to find that it looked pretty good. “I always wanted to find a way to make money from drawing but my ex said it was unrealistic, so I got a job as a receptionist.”
“What did he do?” Sam asked.
“He was a musician. He wanted to be a rock star.”
Sam raised both eyebrows with a smirk. “Ah, yes. The far more achievable dream.”
He stayed for another five minutes, then had to leave for an appointment. Buoyant on a sudden wave of self-belief, Leah set up a new social media profile, chose one of her favorite character designs and posted it, alongside a review of the same book.
Then, grabbing Esther’s diary, she just had time to read another intriguing entry before she forced herself back to work.
Dinner and dancing with Atherton and the gang. I wore the cutest little bell-sleeved minidress, along with my tall white boots, and I felt fabulous! Hazel bribed the doormen somehow and we got in without waiting in line. That girl is a superstar. The live music was awesome.
Yet another row with Mother. She invited The Creep and his parents for dinner on Thursday. I refuse to join them and she’s fuming. But, honestly, what does she expect? I’ve made my feelings clear.
Lunch sorted, thanks to some helpful advice from Jackie in Springfield, Missouri, on one of the migraine forums, Leah climbed the stairs and slowly cracked open Jackson’s bedroom door.
“Are we decent in here?” Please don’t let him be decent—
“You’re safe.” His gravelly answer was dry.
Dammit.
“Lunch is served, Mr. Hale.” He quirked an eyebrow as she laid the tray on his lap. “Fish stick sandwiches. A first for me but I’m willing to give anything a try, and I’m a sucker for chili mayo.” Leah took a plate and closed her hand around one half of the thick doorstep wedge.
Jackson did the same, poking at a stray piece of lettuce which threatened to fall onto the quilt. She watched him take a bite, getting a buzz of pleasure from his nod of approval as he chewed. “Hmm. Better than expected.”
He’d pulled on a navy tee. Dark, ruffled, and shower-gel scented, he was an assault on her senses. Leah was torn between wanting to stare at him and wanting to sniff him.
“Much like yourself. You look a bit brighter.” Leah waved her sandwich; she needed to keep the conversation light so she switched gears. “What’s your favorite food?”
He took a few moments to think. “Chicago tamales. The ones at my local place are so good they sell out by lunchtime. You have to plan ahead if you want to put in an order.”
“Seriously?” Leah shifted on the bed and felt Jackson’s phone in the pocket of her jeans. “Oh, your dad called a little while ago, by the way.” She handed him his cell.
Jackson stilled. “What did he want?”
“Not sure. I told him to call Oliver or Natalia.”
“What did he say to that?”
“Not much, to be honest.” The corners of Leah’s lips curved against her will. “I think he was a little surprised.”
“You are nothing if not surprising.” Jackson’s words were little more than a murmur, his eyes on hers.
In the quiet togetherness of the moment, Leah was suddenly conscious of the intimacy of their positions on the bed.