Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 105756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Pulling up the number, I hit “Call,” and Ada reached forward to grab the phone from my hand. Seeing her lunge, I held it aloft, which caused her soft chest to clash with mine, her hand grasping while I was assaulted by her subtle perfume. She smelled the same as her room at my mother’s house, faintly citrus mixed with sweet. I’d been oh so careful not to touch her too much when I’d guided her into the car, and now, it was difficult not her gather her ponytail in my grip, pull her head back ever so slightly and crash my mouth to hers.
I was in dire straits. It had clearly been way too long since I’d last had sex, and Ada was a beautiful woman in my proximity. That was all it was, right?
I glanced down at her, my bad mood vanished. I’d challenge any man to remain grumpy when he had a woman like Ada Rose strewn across him.
“What on earth are you doing?” I asked, amused.
“The phone. Hang up, please. I don’t need your mechanic.” The call continued to ring, no one answering, probably because it was too early for the garage to be open. Still, I let it ring, enjoying our position far too much. Ada’s gaze was locked on mine, and if I weren’t mistaken, she was a little distracted by our sudden closeness, too. A flash of desire shone in her eyes, there and gone so fast I couldn’t tell if I imagined it.
Leaning forward the barest inch, I inhaled, unable to help myself. “Your perfume, what is it?”
Something about the question made Ada’s logic return as she blinked in horror and pulled away, fixing her skirt and coat while I finally ended the call.
“It’s, um, Jo Malone,” she murmured, gaze lowered. “Nectarine blossom and honey.” A long, weighted pause elapsed. “It was your mother’s last Christmas gift to me.”
Just like that, the mood shifted, and the melancholy I’d been doing well to manage began to expand once more. Mam had loved Jo Malone. Had said there was a scent to suit everyone, and she’d prided herself on finding the right one to match each person she’d gifted it to. She’d played a blinder with Ada because I couldn’t think of a more suitable fragrance. It was light but addictive, sweet without being overpowering. It drew you in, made you want to inhale more, pick out the layers.
“About my car. Thank you for the offer, but I’ll have to decline,” she said, breaking me from my thoughts. I stared at her, unsure if I wanted to chew her out for being so stubborn or haul her onto my lap and—okay, best not to finish that thought. It was just that she smelled incredible sitting so close, and I was having a hard time not fantasising about all the things I wanted to do to her. Christ, when had that happened? I reluctantly found her attractive during our initial meeting, but something more was going on. She’d become a fixation.
There was something about Ada. I had these irrational urges to take care of her. Perhaps it all went back to her request for me to check on her in the evenings, the genuine vulnerability she’d displayed had activated something deep in my psyche. Or maybe it was simply her connection to Mam. I suddenly felt obligated to make sure she was okay.
“Ada, you can’t wait weeks for your car to be fixed.”
“Of course I can. People get by without cars all the time.”
“No. You’ll …” Seeing the determined look in her eyes, I relented. “Fine. Do as you please, but until your car is running again, Ben will take you to and from work each day.” I questioned the logic of this decision since Ada spending time around Ben had already agitated me far more than it should. Still, it was better than having her out walking in freezing conditions every morning. I’d noticed her rubbing her leg yesterday like it pained her, and I worried it would only worsen if she were on her feet so much in the cold.
“Jonathan, look, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but—”
“Ada, it’s a lift to and from work, not a luxury yacht across the Caribbean. Just take the offer because if I have to carry you into this car each morning, I will.”
She pressed her lips together, those beautiful brown eyes crinkling in consternation. “Fine. I accept. But this is the last time you’re helping me. Really, I survived well enough on my own before you came along.”
“I have no doubt,” I told her in a low voice. “But isn’t it nice to let someone else carry the weight every once in a while?”
Her eyes met mine, something softening in them before she looked away out the window. “Yes, I guess it is.”