And a food processor.
‘You might like to try it some time,’ he suggested, setting it on her kitchen bench.
Where it would likely stay unopened in its box until hell froze over.
Jett asked about her house over fettuccini and a glass of red wine.
‘Unfortunately, it’s been let go,’ she told him. ‘I’m going to have to sell it and settle for sleeping on Brie’s couch before we can even think of buying the land for our retreat and I know I’m going to have to settle for less than it’s worth.’
He chewed for a few moments in silence, then said, ‘This place means a lot to you.’
‘It’s home. The only one I’ve ever had.’
The look in his eyes told her he’d probably never called anywhere home but he could appreciate how it must feel.
‘There are memories here. Happy, sad.’ She took a mouthful of wine, nostalgia blurring her vision. ‘I’d hang on to it if I could, but I have to be practical, not sentimental. The retreat’s more important.’
He topped up their glasses. ‘What are you looking for in a retreat?’
She blinked away old wishes. ‘Something close to the city but not too close. With shrubbery. And a water view. Vacant blocks are hard to find. We’re looking at those prefab kit homes that stack together, so it can grow as we do.’
‘Have you ever thought of using this place?’
She chased the fettuccini around her plate with her fork. ‘It’s too small for what I have in mind and there’s too much to do. We’d never be able to afford it. Have you seen the back yard? It’s not been touched in years. The cost for that alone would be astronomical. We need to start modestly.’
He eyed her over his glass then set it down. ‘I have seen the back yard. As a matter of fact I’ve had a second look. The potential’s amazing. Think indoor heated pool and hot tub joined to the main house through a glass-covered walkway lined with luscious plants. You have all the basic ingredients, they just need to be used in a new way. You can create new memories to add to the old.’
She could imagine his idea, so tantalisingly real; she could almost feel the sunshine and water on her skin, could almost smell the tropical blooms. An all-weather paradise to lift flagging spirits.
For a wealthy chef with money to burn it might be a possibility, but for her it wasn’t realistic. ‘When I win the lottery.’ She gave a half-laugh.
‘You never know when your lucky numbers might come up.’
‘Yeah, right, with the way my luck’s going?’ She deliberately switched topics. ‘How about some ice cream and that DVD?’ It was on the table and she flipped it over. ‘Pretty Woman? You got me a chick flick?’
He raised his glass. ‘The title got me. There’s one more thing.’ He watched her over the rim. ‘Where do the two of us go from here? Are we friends or lovers?’
Simple question, difficult answer. ‘I know we’re friends...’ She met his full-on intensity with an intense gaze of her own. ‘Everything’s so complicated right now.’
He nodded, his expression unchanging. ‘Friends, then.’
He’d agreed with her. No talking her into something she wasn’t sure of. No trying to change her mind.
The way he’d not tried to change her mind on that last night aboard the yacht when she’d told him the same thing. He obviously respected the decisions she made.
She had to admire that.
* * *
Olivia woke next morning with a breathless gasp and yesterday’s nightmare came crashing back. The last thing she remembered was the movie’s opening credits. On the floor beside the sofa and his open laptop, Jett was surfacing too.
‘Morning,’ she murmured, staring into his dark, sleepy eyes. ‘Sorry. I fell asleep.’ Obviously. ‘Why didn’t you use one of the bedrooms?’
He blinked awake. ‘Was awake till four working on a few ideas.’ He stretched, looking gorgeously rumpled and sexy, darkly stubbled and bleary-eyed.
‘Ideas? For your book?’
‘Nope.’ He leaned back against the sofa and watched her. ‘We’ll talk about it later.’
She was ultra-aware that yesterday morning’s love-in was an unspoken conversation between them. She wanted, so badly, to slide down onto the floor and join him. Join with him. Look away, Olivia.
She pushed back the throw Jett must have covered her with and stood, still in yesterday’s clothes and looking like something the cat had dragged in. ‘I’ll see what I can find for breakfast,’ she said, and hurried to the kitchen.
Leaning on the open fridge door, she told herself she could come up with a cooked breakfast. She never bothered but Jett would want something.