Free Rumor Has It by Jill Mansell

the Jag. Jack, waiting for them on the frosty pavement outside his newly acquired flat on Marlow Road, was wearing a faded blue sweatshirt and jeans. If she was tempted to throw herself over anything, it was him.
        'Hey, you. Stop flirting with my assistant. And you,' Max ad dressed Tilly, 'stop encouraging him.'
        Tilly spread her arms. 'What did I do?'
        'You don't have to do anything, that's the trouble.' Shaking his head, Max said, 'Maybe a burkha would help.'
        'It's OK, I'll behave myself.' Jack led the way to the front door. 'Come on, let's show you the flat.'
        Tilly swallowed as she followed him up the stairs; they'd only arrived a minute ago and here she was, palpitating already. Long legs, broad shoulders, loose piece of thread stuck to the back of his jeans… Tilly dug her fingers into her palms, resisting the tantalizing urge to pick it off, because touching Jack's bottom clearly wouldn't be a sensible thing to do.
        Phew, though, bet it would feel fantastic…
        'Are you looking at my backside?'
        'Oh Jesus, here he goes again,' Max exclaimed. 'Give it a rest, will you? Leave the poor girl alone.'
    Tilly looked suitably grateful.
        'She was, though,' said Jack. 'I could feel her eyes on me. I can tell.'
         Please don't let this be true.
        The second-floor flat smelled of fresh plaster and sawdust. The south-facing living room boasted a fine view over the park. 'The plasterers finished last night,' Jack explained to Tilly as Max strode from room to room, taking in every detail and scribbling notes in his Filofax. 'Now it's time for Max to come in and do his thing.'
        'I thought property developers just painted everything magnolia.'
        'Most do. But first impressions count, and Max knows his stuff. Make the place look a bit special and you'll attract a better class of tenant.'
        'Paying a better class of rent,' said Max. 'He doesn't hire me out of the goodness of his heart. It's all about making a profit.'
        'Money makes the world go round.'
        Tilly opened her mouth to argue that no, love made the world go round, then shut it again. Under the circumstances, perhaps she wouldn't say that.
        'OK, hold this tape measure. Keep it steady,' Max ordered. 'Let's get to work.'
        His mobile rang twenty minutes later as they were finishing measuring up. Max, with his hands full, nodded at the phone on the windowsill. 'Can you get that?'
        The name flashing up was Kaye.
        'It's Kaye,' said Tilly.
        'That's all right.' Max grinned. 'You're allowed to speak to her.'
        'Hooray,' said a cheery female voice when Tilly answered. 'You must be Tilly—I tried calling the house to see if you were there but no reply. So, what's it like working for the old slave-driver?'
        'Fine so far. We're just measuring a place up at the moment.'
        'Somewhere glamorous, I hope!'
    'It's a flat in Cheltenham, for Jack Lucas.'
    'Oh ho! And have you been introduced to Jack yet?'
        Aware of Jack's gaze on her, Tilly said, 'Um, actually he's right here.'
        'Oh ho ho !' Kaye chuckled knowingly. 'Say no more. I get the picture. And how are the two of you getting along?'
        Why did people always do that? Why did they say 'say no more' then promptly ask another question? Turning away from Jack—who was evidently telepathic and was grinning broadly—Tilly murmured, 'He seems OK.'
        'He is OK. Keep reminding yourself though, he's not to be taken seriously. Jack's for amusement purposes only. Buckets of charm and sex appeal,' Kaye went on, 'but you must never believe a word he says.'
        'I know.'
        'Excuse me,' Jack drawled. 'Am I being discussed here? What's that dreadful woman saying about me?'
        Max, still busy measuring the windows, said, 'The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.'
        'Tell them I can hear everything they say.'