Thinking of You by Jill Mansell Read Free Book Online Page A

central heating—it occurred to Jem that Caro hadn’t been around for a few days now.
    â€œWho knows? Who cares? We broke up.” He shrugged and reached for a dish of chicken sui mai.
    â€œOh, I didn’t realize. I’m sorry.”
    â€œDon’t be sorry on my account. She was boring. Spectacular to look at,” Rupert sighed, “but with about as much charisma as a soap on a rope.”
    This was true, but Jem diplomatically didn’t say so. In her experience, this was a surefire method of ensuring they’d be back together within a week, plus they’d then both hate your guts.
    â€œSo here I am, all alone, with more Chinese food than one person could ever eat. But now you’re here too.” Patting the sofa, Rupert said, “So that’s good. Come on, sit down and help yourself. I’ve got a stack of DVDs here. How was work this evening?”
    Jem hesitated. He’d never asked her about work before. She suspected that Rupert was keen to have company and more upset about Caro than he was letting on.
    â€œUm, actually I’m supposed to be meeting up with Lucy. At Kerry and Dan’s party. Why don’t you come along too?”
    â€œKerry the bossy hockey player? And carrot-top Dan the incredible hulk? I’d rather cut off my own feet. You don’t really want to go there,” Rupert drawled. “All those noisy rugby types downing their own vast bodyweight in cheap beer. It’s cold outside, it’s starting to rain so you’d be drenched by the time you got there, and what would be the point of it all?”
    He was lonely; it was obvious. And speaking of cutting off your own feet, hers were certainly killing her. Jem hesitated, picturing the party she’d be missing. She was starving, and the most anyone could hope for at Kerry and Dan’s would be dry French bread and a bucket of garlic dip. Whereas Rupert didn’t buy ordinary run-of-the-mill takeaways; he ordered from the smartest Chinese restaurant in Clifton, and all the food on the table looked and smelled like heaven.
    â€œMaybe you’re right.” Giving in to temptation, she sank down onto the sofa next to him.
    Rupert grinned. “I’m always right. Want a hand with those?”
    Jem tugged off her left boot and heaved a sigh of relief as her toes unscrunched themselves. Having helped her pull off the right one, Rupert held up the boot and sorrowfully shook his head. “You shouldn’t wear these.”
    What was he, a chiropodist?
    â€œThey’re leather,” Jem told him. “They’ll stretch.”
    â€œThat’s beside the point; they’ll still be horrible.”
    â€œExcuse me!”
    â€œBut they are. How much did they cost?”
    â€œThey were a bargain. Twenty pounds in the sale.”
    â€œExactly.”
    â€œReduced from seventy-five!”
    â€œ Exactly . Who in their right mind would want them?”
    â€œ I would,” Jem protested, looking at her boots and wondering if he was right.
    Smiling at the expression on her face, Rupert chucked them across the carpet. “OK, that’s enough boot talk. Have some wine. And help yourself to food. Are you warm enough?”
    The king prawns in tempura were sublime. Greedily, Jem tried the scallops with chili sauce. The white wine too was a cut above the kind of special-offer plonk she was used to. Closing her eyes and wriggling her toes, she said, “You know what? I’d rather be here.”
    â€œOf course you would. Staying in is the new going out.” Wielding chopsticks like a pro, Rupert fed her a mouthful of lemon chicken. “Listen to the rain outside. We’re here with everything we need. Turning up at some ropy old party just for the sake of it is what people do when they’re too insecure to stay at home. They’re just desperate.”
    Swallowing the piece of chicken, Jem thought how much chattier Rupert was when it was just