Page 30 of Third Time’s a Charm

Get myself as far away from Louise and her sparkling eyes and infectious laugh as I can.

Nothing good can come of the things I’m feeling. There are so many reasons I shouldn’t touch her. I’m her boss. I’m lying to her. I’m leaving in a matter of months, regardless of how things play out. There you have it. Three—not surprisingly—really good reasons to keep my hands and my mouth and my fucking eager dick to myself.

I’m about to spin on my heel and disappear into the gathering shadows when Louise turns and spots me skulking like a creeper.

“Oh, good. You’re here.” She marches over and takes my hand. I’m not sure what she’s put on her skin. Maybe some kind of sherbert. Because my palm tingles at her touch. “Jasper, this is David and Val. They’re from Cockfosters. Isn’t that near where you’re from?”

So many things.

Firstly, I grew up in Mill Hill. So yes, not all that far from Cockfosters.

Secondly, could these people not be from Whetstone or Barnet? Did it have to be Cockfosters?

Thirdly, how the hell did Louise remember that?

I guess she doesn’t know that we moved from Mill Hill to Belsize Park not long after my mother died. When my father married his much younger secretary in a clichéd move that I, for one, still don’t appreciate. Especially since she subsequently divorced him and took half of everything, including an antique sideboard that belonged to my mother.

My mouth struggles to work, and I stare dumbly at the middle-aged couple Louise has introduced me to for a moment before I blurt out, “Yes, Mill Hill.”

David doesn’t seem to notice my lack of eloquence. He takes up the gauntlet.

“Ah, Mill Hill. Lovely part of the world. Many a pleasant afternoon spent at the Orange Tree in Totteridge. Do you know it?” I open my mouth to answer, but it’s not necessary. “Of course you do, since you lived so close by. I grew up in Whetstone, so I haven’t moved far.” He chuckles. “But why would you, as I’m always saying to Val. Lovely part of London …”

He keeps talking with no apparent need for input from anyone, apart from the occasional murmur of agreement from Val. Louise nods and smiles, although she sneaks a cheeky smile my way.

All this leaves me free to sip the wine that’s been put in my hand and stew on the effect Louise saying Cockfosters had on, well, on my cock. It’s ridiculous. I’m a grown man. I should be able to control myself better than this. But throughout David’s monologue, I’m trying to will my body to stand down. Literally.

Finally, he draws breath and Louise, like the professional she is, jumps in before he can get a second wind.

“Well, it’s been so lovely talking to you two. But Jasper and I are here to work, so we must circulate. Have a wonderful evening. And if you get the chance, do try the grape stomping. Very … invigorating.” That last comment is said with another cheeky smile sent my way.

Invigorating isn’t quite the word I would have used. But it’s close.

Chapter Eighteen

Louise

What happened at the grape stomping this afternoon has spooked Jasper. Hell, it kinda spooked me too, although not for quite the same reasons, I suspect.

That’s the only explanation for the way he has disappeared back into his shell.

I thought he’d be happy to meet people from home—although maybe the talkative David was a little too much—but he seemed shell-shocked.

By the time we’re all sitting down at the long barbeque table lined with guests to dig into the incredible meats, salads and potatoes Grahame and his team have put on for us, he seems to be almost back to his normal self, if we’re using how he behaved when he first arrived in Australia as his baseline. The unwinding of Jasper Spencer-Jones, which I had thought was picking up speed, seems to have stalled.

His behaviour is making me nervous. When people retreat, I always feel like I’ve done something wrong. Blame myself. Rationally, I know that’s not true, but it doesn’t always help.

I’d be an idiot not to know his behaviour has something to do with what happened last night on the grass, and today in the wine barrel.

Because as much as hooking up with him could negatively impact my career, it could ruin his.

Long gone are the days—thank Christ—where a man could make advances on a woman and get away with it. That thought has me rolling my eyes. I sound like my mother. But there’s no doubt the #metoo movement has saved women of my generation from the kind of treatment my mother and grandmother were expected to put up with. So it wouldn’t be unreasonable for him to be worried about his own response. Nobody wants to be accused of sexual harassment.

Except I know from personal experience it’s not always simple. Because making a sexual harassment claim can still end a career. Even with the support of HR and colleagues, if the boss is senior enough, he can make it go away. Especially if the harassment isn’t overt or physical. Words can make a woman just as uncomfortable as an unwelcome touch or kiss. But when it becomes he said, she said, and he’s the one at the top, and she has a tendency to be conflict avoidant? Well, it’s not always easy to stand up for yourself.

Pressure can be brought to bear in so many ways. A lacklustre performance review. Embarrassing you in a meeting over not completing a task you were never even given in the first place. Passing you over for interesting projects in favour of someone more compliant. Ask me how I know.

Not that I’m suggesting Jasper is sexually harassing me. Or even contemplating it. Far from it. He’s erring well and truly on the side of caution. As is evidenced by his quick getaway this afternoon.