Free Job Hunt by Jackie Keswick

stitched pocket in the inside of the boot, and Jack nodded.
    “Can’t hide stuff very well the way I’m dressed,” he said, a dull blush staining his cheekbones. “The boots are my armory.” He pulled off the other one and turned it around so the back faced Gareth. “Stiletto,” he said as he ran his thumb up the broad leather strip at the back of the boot. “CS gas and a Taser in the heels. Another knife in each sole.”
    “No range weapons?” Gareth was pleased his voice came out level. The sight of Jack in bare feet and skin-tight leather did things to his mind and body he didn’t want to contemplate right then.
    “As if.” Jack’s fingers rubbed over the leather cuff on his wrist. “You taught me better than that.”
    “I damn well hope so,” Gareth growled and set the boot down. “Go grab a shower. I’ll fix you some food.”
    Jack flushed bright red in less than a heartbeat. “You don’t have to do that!”
    “I know.” Gareth rose, took Jack’s shoulders in a firm grip, and turned the man around until he faced the stairs. “Shower. Now.”
    Jack went, with only a halfhearted complaint mumbled under his breath. Moments later Gareth heard the sound of rushing water from upstairs and hastily retreated toward the kitchen. Bare feet and leather were quite enough to rattle his cage. There was really no need to tempt his control with images of a dripping Jack clad only in a towel.
    While Jack showered, Gareth surveyed the kitchen. The replica Victorian stove was stunning, as were the period tiles and the restored cast-iron fireplace, but that’s where the impressive display ended. Having seen Jack in tight black leather, Gareth wasn’t surprised when he didn’t find an awful lot of food to choose from. He located bread, butter, sugar, cinnamon and milk and was pleased as punch when he could add cream and top-quality dark cocoa powder to his small stash. He would feed Jack cinnamon toast and cinnamon-laced hot chocolate, sweet enough to calm Jack’s jangling nerves and rich enough to help put a bit of padding back on the lean frame.
    Decision made and linear plan established, Gareth set a frying pan on the stove to heat while he cut two slices of bread into fingers. He added a hefty chunk of butter to the frying pan and while he waited for it to melt, he mixed the ingredients for the hot chocolate in another saucepan and placed that on the stove too.
    It took just a few minutes to soak the toast in melted butter and dredge it in sugar and cinnamon before placing it under the grill. And only a few moments more before he had a plate of hot toast and a huge mug of warm, spicy cocoa all ready.
    “God, that smell!” Jack groaned as he stepped into the kitchen. “I’ve just died and gone to heaven.”
    He had changed into jogging bottoms and a deep green rugby shirt. His hair was damp, his feet were bare, and Gareth made a determined effort not to drool.
    “Like?”
    “Definitely,” Jack settled himself at the kitchen table. “I’d forgotten how handy you are in the kitchen.”
    “And around a campfire, don’t forget that.”
    “How could I? We used to be the envy of the whole brigade. All we had to do was find food, and dinner was taken care of. Nobody else had it that easy!”
    Gareth grinned, watching the toast disappear at light speed and wondering if he should make more. “Maybe I should have taught you how to cook it too. But what’s the benefit of being in charge if I can’t do what I like best?”
    “That I can find me a mountain of food, but then still starve to death?”
    There was a twinkle in Jack’s eyes that Gareth was glad to see. “That is a handicap,” he agreed. “And one I need to take responsibility for. Maybe a few cookery lessons are in order.”
    “Tried that,” Jack said around a mouthful of crunchy toast, washing it down with a large swallow of hot chocolate. “Our local curry house did a cookery evening, and I went along to learn how to make their lamb