When she was Jason’s, she didn’t have to be Jenna Diamond any more. She was just Jen.
‘Look at you,’ he said, gleefully waving his phone in her face.
She made an enormous effort to come back to earth, blinking hard and working on her breath before looking at the photographs.
Good grief, she barely recognised herself!
‘I’m a hot mess!’ she exclaimed. ‘You can’t paint that.’
He scooped her into his side and arranged them both into a comfortable sitting position on the chaise – which would now need to be re-upholstered, given the terrible treatment it had just received. She still wasn’t quite able to control her body in the way she might wish, so Jason posed her like a doll, letting her settle and subside against his own worn-out frame.
‘I can,’ he said, smiling at her photograph. ‘And I’m going to. Hot mess is exactly what I’m after.’
‘I look half-dead,’ she objected.
‘More like three-quarters, babe. Yeah. That’s good for me. I want people to see you and suck in a breath at how sore you must be feeling inside.’
‘You’re a pervert.’
He stared at her pityingly, as if rebuking her for her ridiculous statement.
‘All right,’ she said, jabbing him with her elbow. ‘I know that’s obvious. But you really are.’
‘They’ll be jealous,’ he said gloatingly. ‘Jealous of both of us. Unless they’re getting similar themselves, of course. There must be people in the world with the same level of sexual chemistry as us … maybe.’ He sounded doubtful.
‘I’m not entering any competitions,’ said Jenna.
He chuckled.
‘There’s a thought. Wouldn’t you like a gold medal for your drawing room?’
‘My Emmy award for Talent Team is perfectly fine by itself, thanks.’
‘Ah well. It was an idea. If your judgey mates could see this …’
‘Never.’ She was quite firm.
‘I wonder what that Mr Nasty guy would have to say about it.’
‘Something nasty, obviously.’ She tried to swipe at the camera, to get it out of his hand, suddenly afraid he might press the wrong button and beam the image into all the social networks there were.
Jason held it away from her, tutting, but she got hold of his arm and grappled with him.
‘Put it down,’ she begged. ‘I’m afraid it might …’
They fell into a struggle, Jason heaving with laughter at her pathetic attempts to take the phone from him.
In the chaos of their play-fight, the phone was knocked from Jason’s hand and sent clattering to the floor. They both dived for it at once, falling in an ungraceful tangle on to the rug.
Jenna got hold of it first.
‘This isn’t the phone I gave you,’ she said, noticing for the first time the different casing and the more sophisticated screen.
‘No, sorry, it’s an old one of yours, the one you said you were getting rid of ’cos too many people knew your number. Takes better pictures …’
He trailed off, noticing her appalled face.
‘Oh God,’ she said. ‘Oh God, it can’t have done that.’