Page 12 of Love Is…?

“I’ve sorted the permissions needed for Grace’s excursions and incursions for the term. I’ll put them in the folder in the study.” Then she lifted a finger as if she’d forgotten something. “Oh, Abigail. Grace has?—”

“Tessa.” Abigail placed her hands on her slim hips, her index fingers sitting neatly at the top of the Lycra exercise pants. “I think I’ll add it into your contract. It’s Abby, not Abigail. Abigail is for paparazzi, interviewers on the red carpet at the Met Gala, obsequious executives, and journalists.” She quickly pointed at Jayde. “Not you. I like you. You can call me Abby as well now.”

Jayde blinked.

Abby and Tessa laughed at the same time.

“Your face, Jayde.” Tessa chortled.

Jayde regarded Grace’s chaperone. Tessa, in jeans turned up at the cuff, and a soft blue jumper, was a cute pixie, with one of those gorgeous haircuts where the edges followed the line of her jaw, and the fringe fell softly to her eyebrows. It was as if her large brown eyes were framed by soft brown curtains. What was it called? A chin-length bob? She’d have to look it up. For research.

Jayde wasn’t an Amazon at all, pretty average in height actually, but she figured she was a head taller and if they were embracing, she’d be able to rest her chin on Tessa’s head. She blinked again. The very idea of embracing Tessa Connor produced tingles in her stomach, which was pleasant yet unexpected. Tessa Connor had slipped under Jayde’s radar much too soon. They hadn’t even engaged in flirty chat. Or forearm touching. Or extended eye contact.

Just a couple of winks accompanied by that friendly smile, some waving from those hands that Jayde would love to hold, a sentence or two carried on a voice that Jayde could listen to all day. How? How, in just under a week, was there warm, gooey, melted chocolate deliciousness in her veins? Jayde Ferguson didn’t do gooey vein deliciousness, thanks very much. She mentally shook off the thoughts.

“So noted. It’s Abby. I agree with you. Journalists are awful. In fact, they’re on par with those hosts who ask who you’re wearing like you’ve draped a person across your shoulders and?—”

Abby cracked up, and her tall body sagged into the front of the fridge.

“Exactly,” she said, still giggling, then put on an affected voice. “Abigail, you look fabulous tonight. Who are you wearing for this iconic occasion?” She pointed at Jayde, and opened her palms in a “like that?” gesture. Jayde grimaced and nodded.

“Anyway,” Abby continued. “You should stay for a bit. Have you had lunch?” She didn’t wait for Jayde’s answer, and tugged on the handle of the enormous Northland stainless steel fridge, then peered inside. “We must have something in here.” Abby bent her tall frame to stare into the depths, then shrugged. She swung the door closed and turned, her gaze taking in both Tessa and Jayde. “No idea. Help yourselves. I’ve got a meeting at the theatre but please stay.”

Abby beamed at both Tessa and Jayde, then strolled over to the enormous homestead-style twelve seater dining table, grabbed a generic hold-all and made her way to the small elevator that would take her down to the garage under the house. Jayde had learned after her first interview that Abby’s heavily tinted SUV—complete with driver—would be waiting.

Tessa and Jayde made eye contact.

“She’s quite astonishing, isn’t she?” Tessa said, her lips lifting in a slight smile.

“If I wasn’t such a serious journalist writing a serious profile about a serious topic, then I’d be falling over my wide-eyed fangirling self,” Jayde responded, nodding slowly.

Tessa laughed, then reached around the counter, grabbed a stool and dragged it back so that she could sit opposite Jayde.

“So, Jayde Ferguson, not-awful-journalist, what’s Abby like to interview?” Tessa leaned on her elbows, and cupped her chin in her hands.

Her elfin features were accentuated by her hands slipping into her hair, her fingers resting on her cheekbones. Adorable. And really pretty.

“She’s down to earth. So approachable. So real, you know, but when she wants to, she walks into a space, and it’s like the tone of the room changes. I’ve seen it here a bit but mostly on red carpets and the like. She’s magnetic. There’s a larger thanlife presence about her. But in an interview, she’s reserved, but accessible. Like she’s the CEO of Abigail Taylor Industries.”

Tessa hummed. “I can see that. I guess she’d have to?—”

Suddenly, a fast-moving pile of fluff appeared around the corner, skating slightly on the tiles, and screeched to a halt in front of Jayde.

“Theo! No!” Tessa leapt from her stool.

The dog sat, then stood up, obviously deciding that sitting was much too boring. It flicked its eyes to Tessa; the action comical due to the floppy fringe over half its face, and the fact that it was trying to watch Jayde at the same time.

“Theo?”

“Movie star. Lesbian. Old film. Rescue dog,” Tessa said. “Long story.” Then she faced her palm towards the dog. “Sit while Jayde says hello. Be a dog, not a blender.”

Theo actually seemed to chortle; his entire body vibrating like the E string plucked on a bass guitar, and Jayde instantly fell in love.

She stepped off her stool, squatted, and reached out her hand. “Hey, Theo. You’re a good doggo, aren’t you? I bet you are.” She sank farther onto the floor, crossing her legs, which Theo took as an invitation to crawl into Jayde’s lap, despite not being a lapdog at all. His tongue lolled about as he tipped his head back to get a better view of his new best friend.

Jayde looked up at Tessa who was leaning on the edge of the counter, arms crossed, with a bemused expression on her face.

“You’re not going to be able to move for a long time so I may as well join you.”

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