Australian Affairs: Claimed: Dr Chandler's Sleeping Beauty / Countering His Claim / Australia's Maverick Millionaire. Margaret Way
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she asked, looking at him defiantly. ‘How else am I supposed to wash it? Lick it clean?’
Jake looked at her mouth—a habit of his just lately that he couldn’t seem to break. He could think of places he would much rather have her lick with her tongue than the dusty duco of her second-hand bomb. ‘We have water restrictions here,’ he said. ‘You can’t use a hose to water the garden or wash your car during summer. You have to use a bucket. If you get caught there are hefty fines.’
‘Oh…’ She looked at the running hose and bit down on her lip. ‘I didn’t realise.’
Jake moved over to turn the hose off at the tap, asking over his shoulder. ‘Where did you get the car?’
Her chin came up a fraction. ‘I bought it.’
He came over and ran a hand over the dented paintwork of the front fender. ‘How much did you pay for it?’ he asked.
She pursed her lips for a tiny heartbeat. ‘It wasn’t expensive,’ she said. ‘I didn’t want to spend a fortune because I’m only going to be using it for three months.’
‘Let’s hope it lasts that long,’ Jake said, kicking one of the threadbare tyres with his right foot.
‘I’m sure it’s perfectly fine,’ she said, with a little flash of her grey gaze.
‘Did you take it for a test drive?’
Her eyes flickered a little, as if something behind them had come loose. ‘I drove it around the block at the owner’s house and then back to here,’ she said. ‘It ran smoothly enough.’
Jake grunted. ‘Good luck on restarting it.’
Her lips went tight again. ‘I’m sure it will start first go,’ she said. ‘It’s only had one owner.’
‘How many clicks on the clock?’
A little frown pulled at her brow. ‘Clicks?’
‘Kilometres.’
‘Oh…’ She nibbled at her lip again and stepped past him to peer through the driver’s window. ‘Forty-two thousand.’
Jake rolled his eyes. ‘Make that two hundred and forty-two thousand—maybe even more.’
She frowned at him again. ‘What do you mean?’
‘That model is ten years old,’ he said. ‘Even a little old lady only driving to church on Sundays would’ve clicked up more than that. You’ve been sold a lemon, Dr Cargill. Someone’s turned the clock back on it for sure.’
She shifted her eyes from his to the car and back again. ‘I suppose you think I’m gullible,’ she said with a hint of defiance.
‘Have you ever bought a car before?’ Jake asked.
‘I…’ Her slim throat rose and fell as she swallowed. ‘I used to share one. I lived close to the hospital in London so I didn’t really need one of my own.’
Jake gave the windscreen wipers a quick inspection. ‘These need replacing,’ he said, dusting his hands on his shorts. ‘I can get a new set of rubbers for you from a mate of mine. He owns an auto parts shop.’
‘I wouldn’t want to put you or your friend to any bother,’ she said, looking resentful and yet vulnerable and adorably cute all at the same time.
‘It’s no trouble,’ Jake said. ‘You’ll need new tyres soon too. That rear one is practically bald.’
She worked at her bottom lip again with her teeth, looking at the car with a defeated look on her expressive heart-shaped face.
‘Don’t worry,’ Jake said. ‘I’m sure it’ll get you to the hospital and back all right. But I wouldn’t take it on any long journeys until you’ve had it checked by a mechanic. I can give you the name of one who’ll take care of it for you without ripping you off.’
‘Thank you…’ She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear in a discomfited gesture.
‘I’ll get you a bucket,’ he said. ‘I have one in my garage.’
‘Please don’t bother,’ she said.
‘It’s no bother.’ Jake walked towards his garage and, fishing his remote out of his shorts pocket, activated the roller door. He ducked his head as the door was rising and grabbed the bucket next to his toolbox. ‘Can’t leave a job half done, now, can we?’ he said as he took the bucket over to the tap and filled it.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked.
Jake took the sponge from her hand, watching as her eyes flared when his fingers brushed against hers. ‘Stand back,’ he said with a lopsided smile. ‘This is no job for a lady.’
‘I’m not sure what gives you the impression I’m completely rubbish at taking care of the simplest tasks,’ she said, bristling like a pedigree Persian cat in front of a scruffy mongrel dog. ‘But I’ll have you know I can wash a car all by myself.’
Jake moved past her stiff little body to soap up the bonnet of the car. ‘It won’t take a minute,’ he said. ‘You’re too short to reach the roof in any case.’
She stood back with her arms folded crossly, her plump mouth pushed forward in a pout. ‘That’s why I was using the hose,’ she said, shooting him a look.
‘Yeah, well, don’t blame the drought on me,’ Jake said, bending over to re-soap the sponge. ‘I suppose you don’t have to wash cars in England.’
‘Why do you say that?’ she asked.
‘Doesn’t it rain all the time?’ he asked as he cleaned the rooftop of the car.
‘Not all the time,’ she said, with a hint of defensiveness.
A little silence passed.
‘Have you been to Britain?’ she asked.
Jake squatted down to soap up the rim of the nearest tyre. He thought of the ticket to London he’d had to cancel when he’d found out about Rosie’s pregnancy. He’d only planned to go for a couple of months the year after he’d finished medical school. He’d organised for Robbie to stay with a reliable family and the girls with friends. He had counted the days until his first real holiday free of responsibility. But when Rosie had tearfully confessed her predicament he had cancelled his trip and had never got around to booking another.
‘It’s on my list of things to do.’
‘Have you been to Europe?’
‘Not yet.’
‘Why not?’ she asked. ‘I thought a man like you would have gone far and wide to sow your wild oats.’
Jake straightened and tossed the sponge in the bucket like a basketball player landing a game-winning shot. ‘It hasn’t been a priority,’ he said. ‘Australia’s plenty big enough and exciting enough for me.’
‘That’s rather parochial of you, don’t you think?’ she said.
He shrugged. ‘I figure there’ll be plenty of time for me to travel the world when I get other stuff out of the way.’
‘What other stuff?’ she asked. ‘Career stuff? Surely it’s in your interests career-wise to have lived and worked overseas as so many of your colleagues do?’
Jake emptied the bucket and rinsed out the sponge at the tap. ‘Is that why you’re here?’ he asked, glancing at her over his shoulder. ‘To further your career?’
Her eyes moved out of range of his. ‘Of course it is.’
He picked up the bucket of rinsing water. ‘Three months isn’t very long,’ he said as he set to work on the car again.
‘It’s long enough.’
‘To