Page 53 of No Strings Christmas

Jessica looks at me as if she’s drowning, but her words ring clearly in my ear. Don’t rescue me. I don’t need your help.

‘Fine,’ she says with a tight smile. ‘Just quickly. We do have plans after this.’

Yeah, we absolutely do, and it’s going to start with me stripping that dress from her body as quickly as I damned well can.

* * *

‘Oh, my God. Why didn’t you tell me? This is amazing.’

‘Calm down, Jem. There’s nothing, really, really nothing, to get excited about,’ I mutter, squeezing her wrist.

‘Like hell. Do you even know what a big deal this is?’

‘Oh, it’s so not.’ I look towards the bar where Simon and Zach are in conversation, waiting for Simon to order their drinks. Jemima and I slide into the booth,

and I feel a thousand and one things. I’m tied up in knots and I can’t say why, but seeing Jemima and Simon definitely hasn’t helped. ‘I didn’t know you were coming here tonight,’ I segue the conversation slightly. ‘You didn’t mention—’

‘Uh-uh, don’t change the topic. Mum is going to flip. How come you didn’t tell either of us? How long has this been going on?’

I need to put an end to this or, God help me, Jemima’s going to tell Mum and Mum’s going to be planning the whole damned wedding. ‘Jemima, I know who he is and so do you. Zach Papandreo fucks around, okay? That’s what we’re doing. Sex. There’s no big romance here. I just wanted to have a bit of fun while I’m in Singapore and he’s hot and single and that’s the end of it. Please, please, please, don’t mention it to Mum and don’t get a single idea in your head that either of us actually means anything to the other. Okay?’

She visibly pales, shocked at my approach to this. ‘Jessica...’

I grimace. I definitely didn’t pull any punches but desperate times and all that. ‘Please, Jemima. Just...’ I turn towards the bar in time to see Zach look at me and my heart skids to a halt in my chest. ‘Just let it go, okay?’

Simon and Zach begin to walk towards us and I assume a polite smile, turning back to Jemima. ‘Okay?’

‘Okay.’ She lifts a hand in surrender, but I can tell she’s not happy about it.

‘We were just having an interesting conversation about She-Shakes,’ Simon says as he slides into the booth, his knees brushing mine as he passes. I shudder. Zach takes the seat beside me, draping an arm around my shoulders comfortably, naturally, and, despite my assertion to Jemima, I do feel better the second he joins us, relaxing into his frame, glad for his proximity.

‘Oh?’

‘You know, there’d be no better investor than Zach here,’ Simon says with a jolly laugh that makes me want to slap him. I feel Zach stiffen beside me—and no wonder. I tilt a glance at him, wondering if he’s mentioned anything to Simon about our ‘negotiations’ and decide quickly that he hasn’t. He wouldn’t.

‘Jessica’s already told you, she’ll make her own mind up about that, Si,’ Jemima surprises me by interjecting. It surprises Simon, too, going from the look he shoots her.

‘Though I guess if you two are sleeping together that could be awkward,’ Simon continues, and Jemima’s jaw practically drops to the table. Even I’m surprised by Simon and I don’t have a particularly high opinion of him at all.

Zach, beside me, tenses. I put my hand on his leg beneath the table, looking up at him reassuringly. ‘Yes, well, that’s one of many reasons it wouldn’t work,’ I offer breezily. ‘Jem, how’s the pudding going? Fruit all soaked?’

It’s a relief to pivot conversation to something easier, and Jemima and I manage to hold things together for the next fifteen minutes or so, before Zach murmurs in my ear, ‘Is it time to go yet?’

I smile gratefully up at him, and he stands. ‘It was a pleasure to meet you, Jemima,’ he says with his charming, lovely voice. ‘Simon.’ He nods curtly in Simon’s direction and I notice he doesn’t extend a hand either.

‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ I murmur, leaning down to kiss Jemima’s cheek. ‘Remember, not a word.’

We emerge into the warm night air and a flash goes off, startling me—I’d forgotten about this. Zach, however, draws me closer to him, shielding me from the lens as we approach his car. He holds the door open and I slide in; a second later he’s right beside me, taking the driver’s seat. He floors the engine, pulling away from the hotel and pointing the car towards his place.

We’re almost there before either of us speaks.

‘About your brother-in-law.’

I turn to face him, the cocktail having turned my blood to liquid. ‘Mmm?’

‘Do you have a history with him?’

‘A history?’

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