Chapter 10

None of us had had much sleep. I dare say Jen and I had about three hours before the balloon went up. Knowing Stacey, Tiny had had less. I can't speak for Charlie, who had responded to the alarm initially. Of course Melissa and Jen had been out because of assorted drugs, but I don't think that counts. We finally detached them from the hospital late afternoon and there was no way I was going to expect ... or in fact allow Jen to fly without a full eight hours rest at least. We got a hotel – actually, two suites – and had an early dinner. Jen and Melissa weren't really hungry, but the restaurant produced them a light, easily digested meal of chicken, vegetables, and white sauce. Tiny and I both consumed enormous steaks which were tender enough to be cut with the edge of our forks. I thought Charlie would join us, but she went for salmon.

Appetites satisfied, I escorted Jen who was reeling with fatigue and the after-effects of the anaesthetic, to bed. I was going to leave her with Charlie, but she clung to my hand. I looked my appeal to Charlie, but she just shook her head at me. Thus it was I who undressed her to her panties, laid her in bed and covered her up, held her hand until she went to sleep, no more than thirty seconds after she closed her eyes. In the sitting-room, I found Charlie who stood as I entered.

"Tiny's with Miss Sharpe for the moment. I'll relieve him when I've said my piece, Boss. Boss ... Jen's in love with you. Absolutely, head over heels, totally unreasonably, in love with you. I want you to think hard about that. It would be perfect for her if, when she woke up, you were there beside her. If you don't want to do that, go to bed in the other room and Tiny will kip on the settee. Boss, she's special, but so are you. You're not for me, or Stacey, and I know it. So..." She broke off, watching me carefully.

"Okay..." I said slowly. "Okay. Though..."

She smiled a little sadly. "Though ... you're going to have to rethink your lifestyle, Boss, aren't you?"

"Yeah. Right now, though, I think all I want is sleep. See you in the morning."

"Night, Boss." As she reached the door, though, she turned. "Boss, I think the hotel could be persuaded ... at a price ... to open their shop and provide us with at least a change of underclothes. Shall I see what I can do?"

"Good idea. Perhaps jeans or slacks and polo shirts, as well, or something like that. What about sizes?"

"I know everyone's except Tiny, and he's still awake."

"Go for it. And, Charlie ... I appreciate you – you know that?"

She smiled. "Thanks Boss. And ... yes, I know that. You show it, even when you don't say it."

In the bedroom, I saw the dim shape of Jen under the covers. She was curled up in a tight ball and I thought I knew why. But I stripped to briefs and t-shirt and slipped into bed behind her.

Have you ever drunk gunpowder tea? It comes in silvery grey balls and if you drop them into boiling water they slowly uncurl until you have whole greenish oval leaves about an inch long. It probably sounds strange, but that was what I thought of when I snuggled up behind my injured Chief of Security because when my front touched her back and my arms enveloped her, she slowly uncurled, rolled over, and clung to me like a limpet without waking. It was – what can I say? Something surged in me; something unfamiliar, completely new. But I was exhausted, too, and the realisation was swallowed up in oblivion.

I woke alone in bed. I'm not sure even now if I was disappointed or relieved. Whichever (it was probably more a case of perm any two from two) Jen came into the room just as I was working on overcoming the inertia of tension to sit up. "We all know you well enough not to offer you an imitation. Mind you, I can't speak for the quality but it is real coffee."

She brought both cups over and handed me one. Her right nipple was just about the right height for me to suck if I just leaned forward a few inches, but I manfully resisted the impulse. It was surprisingly difficult. Of course, I also didn't want her to spill the coffee. Anyway, after I took the cup and thanked her, she walked round the bed and sat next to me. We sat companionably as we drank the brew, which wasn't at all bad; I've tasted much worse. Once I'd swallowed my wake-up, I had to make a run for the bathroom with an apologetic smile for Jen.

She came in just as I was finishing. Strangely it was I who was mildly embarrassed.

"Sorry, Boss, but I need some help."

"How so?"

"I desperately need to wash, but it's kinda difficult with this," she said, indicating the dressing on her arm.

It's quite possible it was, in fact, waterproof, but I didn't think it was a good idea to take a chance on it. "There's a bath," I pointed out. "You can sit and soak in that, leave your arm out of the water."

"Yeah ... but, I still need some help."

"You want me to fetch Charlie?"

"Boss! Are you saying you don't want a chance to fondle my body? I thought you liked it."

"I do. I'm not objecting – I just didn't want to take anything for granted."

Her expression conveyed 'Duh!' better even than her voice.

The bath was sunken into the floor and had a guard-rail round it. I suppose some people wander into the bathroom at night without turning the light on – I do it myself – and it would not be difficult to tumble in. I ran the bath and while it was filling took the opportunity to shave. It was a good hotel – the complimentary toilette items included a good disposable razor and gel. I added some jasmine scented bath foam to the tub and held Jen's left arm as she carefully climbed down and lowered herself into the water. I sighed as her (to me) perfect orbs were submerged.

"What's that? Sad my little titties are out of sight?"

"Absolutely. There may come a time, sometime in the distant future, when I get tired of looking at them. But I doubt it."

"Well, how about you get in this bath with me and get your hands on them instead of your eyes?"

"An offer I'd be a fool to refuse," I smiled, carefully lowering myself into hot, slippery water.

I washed her very carefully. Very thoroughly, too, while taking care to keep the water off her dressing. Her face and what I could see of her upper body were pink – most likely because of the heat of the water. That's what I kept telling myself, anyway. There came a point – the water was cooling – when I could no longer justify continuing. Actually, it probably came quite a lot earlier than when I actually stopped.

I very carefully got myself out, and helped Jen, before emptying the tub and drying both of us. "There should be some clean clothes around somewhere," I said. "At least, Charlie was going to try to arrange some."

Charlie had done very well indeed. I had designer jeans, a white polo shirt and a medium blue sweatshirt. Melissa had a similar outfit, but a denim skirt instead of jeans. Charlie and Tiny were in navy slacks and sweaters. But Jen, oh, Jen...

There's no way a five-foot beauty like Jen is going to look like the epitome of a commercial pilot, but Charlie had contrived a dark-green trouser-suit over a white blouse, with a matching peaked hat and black flat shoes that almost achieved that. In fact, as we walked into the FBO, I'd have sworn she'd grown six inches, her presence was so impressive. She took the lead completely; when the FBO manager glanced at me as if to question Jen's authority, I just stared back. It was his eyes that dropped and he accepted Jen's credentials and credit card – it was a company card anyway – without further demur.

The flight back was rather less dramatic than that up. Jen again insisted I join her on the flight-deck and spent some time running through the controls, which were mostly digital. Even without pushing the envelope, it was not much more than an hour runway to runway. We were met by a worried Gerry Marsden. Although he greeted me first and had a word and a smile for Jen, Charlie and Tiny, his tone and manner changed when he spoke to Melissa.

In a moment of inspiration, I said, "Gerry, I'm sure Miss Sharpe would like to catch up on where things are in your department. Why don't you two go off and get some lunch? And if Miss Sharpe wants a day or two off..." I decided not to mention her 'ordeal' and left the reason unsaid.

"Thanks, Boss..." and Gerry looked down at his deputy with what I can only describe as a 'soppy' expression – only matched by hers – and they walked to Gerry's car. I turned to Jen. "What say we go find some lunch before going in to face Stacey's interrogation?"

She hesitated. "You're sure you want to be with me?"

"Why on earth wouldn't I be?"

"Well, it was my mistake not covering Miss Sharpe better ... and I really ought to have insisted you stay out of it..."

"There was no reason to expect what happened, and it's my fault you got hurt, wasn't it?"

"Oh..." our eyes met, and hers were glistening.

"Besides," I paused, looking to see that Tiny had followed Gerry and Melissa, leaving Charlie to watch over us, or at least me, "we'll have Charlie as well to keep an eye on us."

Her eyes dropped. "Okay."

The small Italian restaurant is a regular destination for me, and Pietro showed us – three of us – to a discreet table mostly screened from the rest of the room. The discretion, however, was quite unnecessary. It was a silent meal, the only communication being questioning glances at me from Charlie, with my slight shrug being the only response.