“How happy you must be,” he says cheerfully, stretching his arms above his head with a satisfied grunt.

I narrow my eyes at him. I swear he’s doing this on purpose. “Why?”

“So many problems. You must admit you live to sort them out. This is like Christmas and birthdays to you with all these potential areas of trouble just tumbling out around you.”

I shake my head. “Jesse, you’re a pisstaking prat,” I say baldly, hearing the sound of his laughter with a surge of warm pleasure. Mostly everyone around me treats me warily, like I’m going to leap on them and organise their cupboards before sacking them and casting them onto the street. Jesse never has. He’s always treated me with this warm friendliness, and I savour it so much more than I should.

He stops laughing and rubs his eyes. “Okay, let’s have the problem.”

“The bed,” I say firmly.

He looks towards it and back at me. “Is it not comfortable? Are the sheets polyester?”

“No.” I gape at him. “Can you really not see the problem?” He shrugs. “There’s only one bed,” I say impatiently. He stares at me and I launch into problem-solving. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t think. But luckily there’s a sofa. I’ll sleep on that.”

He starts to laugh again. “Zeb, it’s like meeting a stranger. You didn’t think any of this through, did you? What is happening to you?”

I shrug, feeling my cheeks flush to my horror. “It was a bit of an impulsive move,” I finally admit.

He smiles at me kindly. “Well, luckily I excel in those,” he murmurs. “I’ll guide you along.”

“May God help me.”

He chuckles. “Listen, that sofa is as uncomfortable of a piece of furniture as I’ve ever sat on. There is no way you’re sleeping on that while we’re here.” He shrugs. “There’s an easy solution to all of this.”

“Get another room and tell people that you’re saving yourself for marriage?” I say glumly, and he laughs, his whole face lighting up and those warm eyes of his limpid and clear.

“No, silly. We’ll just share the bed.”

“Oh my God.” I sigh and lean back, covering my eyes. “I’m your bloody boss. You can’t share a bed with me.”

Warm fingers cover my hands, and he prises them away from my face. I blink as I see his pretty face close up. “If it makes you feel any better,” he says solemnly, “we’ll put a pillow between us, each keep one foot on the floor at all times, and I promise to hide the key to my chastity belt.”

I shake my head, only realising that he’s still touching my face when his fingertips slide across my skin. I repress a shiver.