Page 30 of His Best Mistake

“Well, not much,” she said, and was it his imagination or was her voice a little hoarse? “Although that can easily be remedied.”

Jack started, his body automatically stiffening in response because, good Lord. Was she implying what he thought she was implying? No. Of course she wasn’t. Unfortunately. No. Fortunately. “What are you suggesting?” he asked, grappling to get his wayward thoughts as well as his body back under control.

“We need to talk.”

“We are.”

“More,” she said. “Properly.”

Right. OK. But was that strictly necessary? He didn’t think so. He didn’t much want to know about her, or want her to know much about him. With knowledge came intimacy. With intimacy came vulnerability, and with vulnerability came the potential for pain that could tear you apart and leave you facing a void. “Do we really?” he said in a tone designed to deter.

Unfortunately not deterred in the slightest Stella levelled him a look. “We’re having a baby together, Jack. There are things we should find out about each other. Things to discuss. So yes, I think we do need to talk.”

Dammit, he couldn’t argue with that, he thought, something inside him caving in the face of such inescapable logic. But it would be all right. As long as they stuck to the facts and kept feelings out of it, he could share. Whatever was in the public domain anyway. And he did want to keep an eye on her, didn’t he?

“Fine,” he said crisply. “Tomorrow’s Sunday. We’ll do something together and you can tell me all about yourself.”

*

Confident? Hah.

Jack had no idea, thought Stella the following morning in the taxi as they headed for the country’s biggest and best art supplies shop so that she could stock up on the items she’d forgotten to pack. She wasn’t confident. She’d just learned how to fake it. And when it came to the opposite sex she was a total disaster, although she planned to work on that.

In fact, she’d already made a start by bringing up that the whole rather average and nothing special thing last night. Despite her best efforts to ignore it, it had been niggling away at her pretty much constantly. She had no idea why. It wasn’t the worst thing she’d ever been called. Her parents had, on occasion, come up with far worse. Nevertheless it had rankled.

If she’d been acting true to form, s

he’d have had a stern word with herself, buried the niggle and got on with things. This time, however, she’d taken the bull by the horns and had confronted it head on, and she was glad she had because Jack had cleared it up in the most satisfactory sort of way. She didn’t think she’d ever had her virtues listed before. She hadn’t thought she had any. It had made her feel all warm and glowing inside to know that a man like Jack did think she had some. In fact the warm glow had lingered for quite a while and she wondered whether it was something to be wary of.

At least the nausea had gone. This morning she’d woken up after one of the best night’s sleep she’d had in years to the smell of cooking bacon and for the first time in weeks she’d been ravenous. Thankfully Jack hadn’t commented on the strength of her appetite but had just continued the supply until she’d been stuffed. Then he’d asked her if there was anything in particular she wanted to do today and it had suddenly occurred to her she’d need some canvases for when everything went wrong.

“So tell me about your work,” said Jack, his voice snapping her out of her thoughts and returning her to the taxi with a bump.

“The courtroom drawings?” she asked, twisting round a little and suddenly finding him a bit too close.

“Yes. I looked you up. You’re very good at what you do.”

“Thank you,” she said, the warm glow flaring up inside her all over again. Reaching forward Stella lowered the window so that she could breathe again, and continued, “Well, generally, I go into the courtroom just after the trial’s started. We’re not allowed to do any drawings then and there so I have to commit everything to memory. I can take notes, though. Then, when there’s a recess or court is adjourned I go out and get it all down.”

“You must have to work fast.”

“Like lightning.”

“What sort of trials do you cover?”

“All kinds.”

“It must be harrowing at times.”

“It can be. Some are horrific and I have to totally zone out, but I’m used to that. I did once make the mistake of not zoning out and I had nightmares for months.” She paused, thinking about the canvases she’d painted at the time and grimacing since they’d been truly hideous; then she pulled herself together. “Others are kind of fun, though. Celebrities taking on magazines and rock stars on drugs charges can be interesting. There was one recently about a game-show cheat. That was entertaining.”

“Guilty?”

“Oh, yes,” she said with a grin. “Very much so.”

“Do you paint as well?”

“Not very successfully.”

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