So touch her again and prove it.
Not a chance he was game to take at the moment.
* * *
Cassie wasn’t sure how she made it out of the room without buckling to the floor. She huffed out the air captured in her lungs when the electrical charge from his touch short-circuited coherent thought and action. Fleeing to the safety of the family room, she was thankful to be alone.
Once she could dismiss as an anomaly, twice was... Did he pick up static electricity in his work? Didn’t tradies’ boots counteract that? Logic told her they did, as there’d been no reaction when he’d hugged his aunt.
She didn’t want to be logical. She wanted to be safe from any involvement with Jack Randell or any other man of his social status. Conceived during an illicit one-night stand, she knew exactly what she was, and how she’d be regarded by elite society. And how easily a man’s declared devotion could evaporate when tested.
Jack’s appearance and actions gave the impression of a man working his way up the financial ladder, but he had wealthy connections and he’d probably inherit. Whatever the incentive for his current lifestyle, it would be an easy switch to his family’s world of fancy cars and fine dining. She’d never have the luxury of such a choice—her world was compact sedans and home cooking.
Letting out a light self-deprecating laugh, she walked over to the desk where she’d left her laptop next to Mel’s computer and printer. Any spark of attraction he’d felt would dissipate at her lack of encouragement.
He’d have jobs waiting to be done during the day and friends to catch up with at night so he probably wouldn’t be around much. On Thursday afternoon she’d give Mel her printouts plus a list of exclusive second-hand fashion boutiques, and drive away. That just left tonight to resist his innate charm.
Her body relaxed as she slow breathed, doing her steadying count to fourteen and repeating her mantra. Stay strong. Keep distance. She resumed checking labels and sizes, mystified by a world where haute couture and fashion changes were all-important. Why should someone be judged by the brand or style of the clothes they wore?
Neat comfortable jeans and muted tops or jumpers were her standard uniform. Her casual sneakers, boots or safety footwear were a far cry from the large array of high-heeled shoes she’d seen upstairs. They and others with sturdy low heels would be brought down and sorted for the female family members to view.
JACK WAS MULLING over his conversation with Cassie when he found Mel setting the table in the dining room. His heart lifted at the sight of the flower centrepiece and the crystal glasses beside each place setting, as they’d always been at dinner before her accident. A few stupid seconds of driving inattention to check a text and a teenager’s car had veered towards the kerb. Overcorrecting had sent it slamming into Mel’s daughter’s passenger door. And Mel.
The weeks in hospital and drawn-out rehabilitation, with a broken leg and lacerations on her arm and across the top of her chest, had taken a toll. Table decorations didn’t sound like much but he thanked whatever gods there were that she seemed to be embracing the life she’d loved again.
Not being able to drive, stand for long to cook and having to convert the small lounge into a downstairs bedroom had been hard enough. Being reliant on others for everything when she’d struggled so hard to be independent after Bob’s fatal heart attack had almost broken her spirit.
If having the distraction of Cassie Clarkson here for a few days was the price to pay for getting his beloved Aunt Mel back to her old self, so be it.
‘Going classy, huh? Do I need to race home and change?’
Mel’s smile lit up her face, and her eyes shone. ‘I thought Cassie deserved it. She’s a sweet girl, and I like her. What we’re doing is good for me, Jack.’
He walked over and hugged her. ‘I wholeheartedly approve of anything that makes you happy, Mel.’
‘Even if I take it further?’
He pulled back to see her expression. ‘As in?’
‘As in asking Cassie for a quote for a full downsize. Not all at once—over a few months, in between her other contracts. That way it won’t be so tiring and easier to accept.’
A full house sorting? The first step to moving, selling her home. Life-changing for her, and she wanted his approval. This was a chance to make a small repayment for her and Bob’s unconditional support.
‘If it’s what you want and feel you’re ready for, I’m with you one hundred percent. You know you can rely on me, Mel.’
He kissed her cheek and stepped back. ‘Do I have time to take Sam for a run before we eat?’
‘Twenty minutes.’ She patted his cheek as if he were a schoolboy again. ‘Go.’
He went.
* * *
As he pounded along the footpath his mind churned with Mel’s revelation. He’d fallen into the trap of believing that Mel’s continuing recovery meant life would one day be as it always had been. Though he’d hoped she’d relent and have someone move in with her for company and safety.
She, Bob and their home had been his lifeline when home trauma threatened to derail his carefully planned objectives. He’d managed to get through the usual rebellious stage of drinking and partying without irreparable damage to his reputation.
He’d refused to study for the degree his father had wanted him to take, or to join one of the Randell established businesses, which had caused deep-seated angst. His dream to build a property empire had only been shared with Bob. During their discussions in the garden workshop, his great-uncle had taught him how to repair and maintain a home and its contents. He’d also instilled Jack with respect for his tools and the knowledge of their care and maintenance.
He and Mel had encouraged him when he’d got his first after-school job, shelf-stacking at a local supermarket, and celebrated with him after he signed the contract to buy his first rental property. His one small consolation when Bob died was that he’d shared in every success, and had been thrilled when Jack had become a millionaire. Even if it was only on paper or consisting of bricks and mortar.
Thinking of that gentle man caused his heart to ache as if he’d run a marathon. He pushed through the pain. They’d always put his needs first; now it was time for him to man up and do the same for Mel.
Even she didn’t know the true extent of his current finances. Having everyone believe he was buying a few properties and earning his daily living in maintenance kept him grounded and his demons at bay. Even then he could never be sure if it was him or the knowledge of his family’s assets that attracted women. Tara had made it clear that she’d never date anyone she considered below her social status.
Mel’s experiences had further proved that wealth drew frauds and con artists. So many people wanted easy money rather than work for it. Did Cassie? Was she wary of him as Mel’s protector or as a man? Would her attitude change if she found out about his new business venture?
Sometime soon, when he took the next—this time gigantic—corporate step, he’d tell his family, prior to an official announcement. If the current bank negotiations were successful, he’d be purchasing a small suburban shopping centre and have the capital to extend and improve it.
* * *
Cassie stood in the shower, combing conditioner through her hair, trying to make sense of the intensity of her responses to Jack. Her normally guarded nature had abandoned her and she had no idea why.
There’d been interest in his captivating eyes despite his reservations about her presence here. For a second