Sushi for Beginners - Marian Keyes [169]
‘Sorry.’ Her voice was muffled. ‘But if any water gets in, the eardrum will perforate. It’s happened twice already.’
‘Right, I get the picture.’ He made himself slow right down and, with his fingers, stroked gentle furrows to sluice water away from the danger area. To his surprise there was something about the arc of skin at the back of her ear that bizarrely touched him. That little line of clean tenderness before her hair sprang into vibrant life. It looked so pitiful and sweet and inexplicably brave. And the big, idiotic-looking lump of cotton wool which blossomed from the side of her head… He swallowed.
‘Shampoo,’ she interrupted. ‘Put a blob on the hair, then lather it –’
‘Ashling, I know how shampoo works.’
‘Oh. Of course.’
Slowly he began to circle his fingers on her scalp, working the shampoo through. It was unexpectedly pleasurable. She closed her eyes and let herself lapse into it, letting the last exhausting month, her enormous workload recede.
‘How’m I doing?’ he asked.
‘Fine.’
‘I always wanted to be good with my hands,’ he admitted. He sounded wistful.
‘You couldn’t be a hairdresser,’ she murmured, half-resenting having to speak, so much was she enjoying this. ‘You’re not camp enough.’
Her skull tingled with ecstasy as he worked his hard, sure hands along her. She was going to be dead late for Niamh Cusack and frankly, she didn’t give a shite. Little shivery thrills crawled along her hairline, the tension departed her over-stressed body and the only sound in the shady room was that of Jack’s breathing. Slumped over the sink, she was sleepily cocooned in his warmth. Bliss… But then, as she felt an ache opening way down in her, she became frightened. He was not giving her a normal shampoo. She knew it. He must know it. It was far too intimate.
And there was something else. A presence. An upright hardness that was hovering around her liver, just about where Jack Devine’s groin was. Or was she imagining it… ?
‘Perhaps you could rinse it now,’ she said in a little voice. ‘And put some conditioner in, but do it quick, I’ll be late.’
This was Jack Devine. Her boss’s boss. She didn’t know what was going on, but whatever it: was, it was too freaky.
The very second he finished, she squeezed out the excess water, then saw him approaching with the towel. ‘I can dry it myself, thanks.’ She was breathless.
In the mirror their eyes collided. Instantly she swung away from his sloe-black look. She was embarrassed, confused… the way she always felt around him, but to the power of ten.
‘Thank you,’ she managed politely. ‘You’ve been a big help.’
‘No problem.’ Then he smiled and the mood altered totally, so much so that she later wondered if she’d imagined the unspoken something buzzing around them. ‘I’m not the big ogre you all think I am.’
‘No, we don’t –’
‘I’m just a bloke doing a tough job.’
‘Er, right!’
‘Now, how much do you bet me that Trix will catch me coming out of here?’
It took Ashling a moment to reply, ‘A tenner.’
52
When Jack arrived at the Herbert Park Hotel, the party was well underway. The place was thronged, copies of Colleen lay on tables in thick, lustrous piles, and the girls had a highly efficient human conveyor-belt in place to process the anticipated movers and shakers.
First port of call was Lisa, who, lacquered and glittery-shiny, had probably never looked more beautiful. Then Ashling, awkward in a dress and spindly heels, was checking invitations against a list. Mercedes, snake-thin in black wet-look, was affixing name-badges to arrivees, then Trix, attired in nothing much at all, was directing people towards the cloakroom. Beautiful young men and women circulated with trays of grown-up-looking cocktails – not an umbrella in sight.
‘Madam editor,’ Jack stopped in front of Lisa.
‘Hi, I’m the greeter!’ she grinned.
‘Well, greet me then.’
She kissed his cheek and in a mag-hag parody exclaimed, ‘Darling, so fabulously fantabulous to meet you! Er, who exactly are you?’
Jack laughed and moved on to Ashling, who looked up from her print-out.