‘You do get that this … relationship … doesn’t affect my autonomy, right?’ Jemma said with a small frown. ‘I have a life outside of this little bubble.’
He was going to have to tread carefully. However, although she was intent on laying down the law, Hamish sensed that Jemma’s compulsive need for control might balance his impulsive craving for a degree of chaos.
‘Independence is one of your most attractive qualities—speaking strictly on a non-physical level, obviously,’ he added, running a hand up her thigh. ‘But you can’t honestly think I’m going to risk something happening to you.’
‘Your overprotectiveness is monstrously incorrect—yet kind of hot,’ Jemma said with a reluctant grin. ‘But as I’ve made a breakthrough on the whole stalker thing, it’s misplaced.’
‘What?’ He jerked up, and Jemma lurched to catch her laptop. ‘When? Why didn’t you lead with that? Have you told the cops?’
‘I’ve been stewing on it for the last couple of days, and I’m ninety—no, ninety-five per cent,’ she corrected, as though the actual figure mattered, ‘certain that I know who the stalker is. And I hadn’t mentioned it to anyone because, after all the drama, it’s kind of awkward.’
He spread his hands wide in question.
She puffed out her cheeks. ‘The colleague I’ve mentioned a few times. Tien? He’s had something of a crush on me forever.’
‘Completely understandable. Give me his address, I’ll take him down.’
‘Not something you should say to a lawyer,’ she reprimanded with a pleased grin.
‘You think I’m joking? Anyway, what does he have to do with your stalker?’
She sucked her teeth, wrinkled her nose. ‘Heisthe stalker.’
‘What the hell?’ He was ready to head out the door to sort the guy.
Jemma snatched his hand, drew him back onto the lounge. ‘It’s no big deal, really. I should have been suspicious from the start. Tien’s always on at me about being careful and he had so many plausible suggestions about who the stalkercould be—along with throwing a whole lot of shade at my ex—that, in retrospect, I can see he was trying to throw me off the scent.’ She rolled her eyes, clearly frustrated by her lack of insight. ‘Plus, he manages to work into the conversation so regularly that it would be safer for me to have a flatmate, that I’ve given up responding to him.’
Hamish could easily imagine Jemma ignoring a conversation she wasn’t interested in. ‘Bit of a reach to declare him a stalker on that basis, though?’
‘It would be—except I discovered that he not only knows where I live, but he goes there to buy my coffee every morning, even though it’s well out of the way. The fact that he never mentioned either of those things—in fact, he insinuated that he didn’t know where I lived—is incriminating.’
‘What it is is downright creepy, and now I’m not joking about sorting him out.’
‘But totally stalkerish, right?’ Although Jemma claimed to be sure, there was a flicker of uncertainty beneath her words.
Hamish frowned. It’d be great if the issue was so easily resolved, but he was wary of Jemma letting her guard down too easily. ‘But the notes? Obviously, “I know where you live” is a bit of a giveaway, given the circumstances, and perhaps even “You’re not as safe as you think you are”, if this Tien was set on moving in with you. But “three strikes you’re out”?’
Jemma nodded slowly, as though reluctant to admit her scenario wasn’t entirely plausible. ‘Tien did make a point of saying that the messages were trite; perhaps that was his way of making sure I wasn’t too freaked out, just concerned enough that I’d figure having him around would be a great idea.’
‘I don’t think a brick through the restaurant window is trite.’
Jemma’s face fell. ‘I know. That one’s an aberration. But if it was Tien, I wouldn’t have to worry …’
He raked a hand through his hair. Jemma was too eager to seize on Tien as a ‘safe’ stalker, too willing to set aside the flaws in her argument. It threw him—until he recognised the cause of her reaction: fear. ‘Well, if he thinks it’s okay to endanger you and your family like that, I’m definitely coming back to town with you.’ He lifted his left arm. ‘Due a physio visit, anyway.’
‘Thought that was on Saturdays?’
‘And I thought you didn’t listen to conversations that bored you. Are you admitting you hang off my every word?’
‘More like admitting I’ll have to find a way to shut you up, if you think you’re that interesting,’ Jemma replied, sliding her hand around the back of his neck to pull his mouth to hers.
Even the taste of her was exotic, intriguing, expensive.
This relationship could quite easily cost him everything. Yet he was willing to pay the price.
30
Jemma
