Page 16 of Here Comes Trouble
‘Why not? You brought your work to the table, why can’t I bring mine?’
She had no answer for that. He had a point.
Flattening her hair down with hands that no longer felt as if they belonged to her, she shuffled up straighter in her seat.
‘Look, Xander, I’m not really comfortable…’
‘Don’t worry, you don’t need to do anything differently, I just had an image I wanted to get down before I forgot it. I have to grab these little flashes of inspiration when they strike. Unfortunately, my muse isn’t something I have any control over.’
‘A bit like your libido,’ she muttered, staring down at the table, unwilling to meet his eyes now.
He didn’t make any reply to her jibe, but when she glanced up to check what he was doing she noticed a small curl to his lips, as if he was trying to suppress a smile. His gaze was fully focussed on what he was doing, but as she watched him move the pencil fluidly over the paper he looked up and caught her staring.
She looked away quickly, heat burning her cheeks.
Rosa appeared in the doorway with plates of food and Jess breathed a sigh of relief when Xander put down his pad and ceased the impromptu sketching session.
Taking a deep breath, she tentatively started in on the scrumptious looking salmon, asparagus and salad that Rosa placed in front of her. Her appetite had totally abandoned her, but she wasn’t going to let her insecurities get the better of her – no way. Even so, she hardly tasted a bite of the meal as she worked her way through it. It was as if her taste buds had packed up and gone on holiday, making everything turn to dust in her mouth.
She put her cutlery down after managing only half of it, defeated.
‘How was your food?’ Xander asked, startling her as he laid his own knife and fork onto his empty plate.
‘It was delicious. There’s just a bit too much for me here,’ she said, feeling the heat of her discomfort flaring in her cheeks. Looking down, she realised her hands were trembling so she hid them underneath the napkin on her lap, hoping he wouldn’t notice.
‘You know, I don’t think I’ve ever met a journalist who was such an awful liar before,’ Xander said, leaning back in his chair and putting his hands behind his head as he studied her. ‘You looked like you were being tortured all the way through eating that.’
That did it.
The stress of attempting to stay poised around him, along with the pressure of potentially losing her job if she couldn’t get him to play ball and his utter disrespect for her profession all collided in her head, shooting up her blood pressure.
‘You know what, I didn’t want to believe all the gossipy reports about you being an arrogant bastard, but I can see now they’re totally on the money.’
He stared back at her, eyebrows raised and a muscle twitching in his jaw, but didn’t say a word in his defence.
Had she blown it losing her cool like that? Was that the end of this fiasco? She felt as if the whole thing had spun out of her control and she had no idea how to claw it back.
But instead of telling her to get out of his house, he picked up his sketchbook and pencil again and started to scribble away as if she wasn’t even in the room.
She sat for a minute or two, waiting to see whether he’d speak to her again, but he steadfastly ignored her.
‘Look, I’m sorry for losing my temper. I’m just feeling a bit… out of my depth at the moment.’
Still nothing. Not even an acknowledgment that she’d spoken.
‘Okay then… w-well…’ she stuttered, scrunching up the napkin from her lap and dropping it onto the plate in front of her. ‘I’ll let you get on with your picture and get back to my hotel.’
Perhaps once she’d had a good night’s sleep everything would look rosier in the morning, and they could start afresh. She tried not to shudder as she remembered the insect-infested room that awaited her.
He said nothing as she slid out of her seat, stooping to pick up her shoes. She decided against putting them back on, mainly because it would delay her leaving, but also because her poor aching feet would have screamed at her to stop torturing them if she had.
‘Goodnight, Xander,’ she said to the top of his head before walking away from him, not daring to look back and catch the look of amusement that had to be on that unnervingly handsome face of his.
* * *
Slumping back against his chair and dropping his sketchpad and pencil onto the table Xander watched Jess stalk out of the dining room in her stockinged feet, her shoes swinging from her fingers at her side.
A slow burn of shame worked its way through him.
