‘Jenna. Jenna.’
‘Tammy? I’m delivering flowers and there’s some strange noises coming from inside. Something has smashed and now someone’s screaming. Shouting. They said, ‘I’ll kill you.’ Turning her attention back to the house, Jenna called through the letterbox again and tried the door knob, but it wouldn’t budge. ‘Hello! Can you open the door? Do you need help? An ambulance? The police?’
‘Police?’ Tammy screamed down the phone in horror. ‘Should I call the police? Where are you?’
‘I’m on Royal Crescent. Um, Holland Park. But I don’t know what’s…. Tammy?’ The phone was dead. Jenna pocketed it and hammered again on the bright blue door. ‘Hello! Hello!’
Silence.
‘Hello! Are you okay? Should I get help?’
More silence.
Then, ‘Twist and push. Push! Hard!’ said the frail voice.
‘The door? Twist the doorknob and push? Okay! Don’t worry. I’m coming.’ Taking a deep breath, Jenna twisted the large brass doorknob and heaved her shoulder against the blue wood. The door shot open and she was propelled into the corridor. She used the momentum to speed her way into the room at the end, realising too late she was armed only with a bouquet.
Déjà vu. Only this time she was the flower-wielding crazy not her sister. And what the hell use it would be on an armed attacker she didn’t know. ‘Hello? Hell—Oh. Goodness, what on earth happened?’
She was in a large kitchen, pine dining table and chairs to her left, kitchen appliances straight ahead, well used but posh and with gleaming stainless steel. At her feet was a pale lady who looked about two hundred years old, crumpled on the floor with blood dripping down her cheek. Pale eyes blinked up. ‘Please don’t hurt me.’
‘Goodness, I wouldn’t do that.’ Surely someone holding flowers didn’t look like they would hurt anyone? Then she remembered Chloe and the best-man battering and knelt down, softening her voice. ‘I thought you were being attacked. Is…’ Jenna glanced around the room, her heart still tripping along too fast. ‘Is there someone else here? Are you on your own?’
‘Of course I’m on my own. Can you see anyone else?’
‘No.’ But that didn’t mean they weren’t hiding out in a cupboard somewhere wielding a knife or an axe or a gun. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Do I look okay?’ The pale eyes stilled and possibly rolled a little in that way mothers do to their offspring—and the offspring do to their mothers.
‘Well, no. But who were you talking to? Where’ve they gone? What happened?’
‘A stray got in and frightened my poor Bluebell.’
‘Bluebell?’
‘My cat. That sash window’s stuck and I can’t close it properly, so the damned stray keeps getting in and frightening her, and I’ve had enough. I screamed at it, again and again, but it attacked at me.’ She held a shaking hand to her bloody face. ‘Jumped up and scratched me. I fell over and pulled the tablecloth with me. I was trying to get up when I heard you making all that commotion through the letterbox.’
A cat fight—which explained just about everything. The scream. The shouting. The dragging noise. Wait, commotion? She’d been trying to help. There was no evidence of any cats here now, apart from a faint feline smell mixed in with the old lady’s flowery perfume. ‘I see. But are you okay?’
The woman shook her head, sadly. ‘I’ve broken something.’
She had a gash on her cheek, but it certainly didn’t look serious enough to have fractured a cheekbone. Jenna looked down at the lady’s arms; she was moving both of those. Her neck and back seemed okay. Her knees were hidden under a tweed skirt. ‘Your leg? Hip?’
The lady pointed behind her. ‘A vase. There’s glass all over the floor. Blake said he was sending flowers, and I was getting ready for them.’
So nothing too serious, then. Relief ran through Jenna. ‘Okay. So you’re Aunt Annabel, right?’
‘Annabel Delacourte. Yes. Are those my flowers? From the nephew who lives just across the city but doesn’t have time to visit?’
‘Yes.’ Jenna didn’t need to look at the label; she’d written it with her special calligraphy pen and had looked at it on and off while she’d been standing on the stone steps outside. ‘From Blake. With love. Always.’
‘Bit of a measly display. I expected more for a colonoscopy.’
Oh. Disappointment flooded through Jenna. This was one of her favourite arrangements; white roses, gypsophila and germini. And it was definitely the first and last time she was going to rush to see the reaction of her clients to her lovely flowers. ‘I think they’re beautiful. Understated rather than gaudy. But they might have got a bit battered as I ran down the corridor.’ When I was saving your life from an attacker.
‘Hmmph.’
It wasn’t exactly the smiling thanks and appreciation of her flowers she’d hoped for. Perhaps there was a reason Blake didn’t bother coming across the Thames to see his Aunty, maybe it was something to do with her manners. Jenna sucked up her irritation, clearly the woman was in shock and possibly in pain. A colonoscopy had to hurt, as did a fall on the floor, even if it was just a strike to her pride. ‘Okay, well, I’ll get a dustpan and brush and clear up the glass, and then we can get you upright and into a proper chair.’
‘Under the sink.’ Annabel waved a limp hand towards the kitchen counters. ‘Don’t go rooting in my cupboards.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’ How sad to be so wary and untrusting of everyone. Jenna stood and hopped over the glass to the kitchen, found the dustpan and brush and carefully knelt, sweeping up the glass. ‘When I’m done, I’ll pop the kettle—’
‘Police!’ The front door clattered, interrupting her flow. Heavy footsteps bounded down the hall. Then someone—more than one—burst through the door. ‘Police! Freeze.’
‘What the—?’ Jenna froze completely, her back to the door so she couldn’t see what was happening. Her eyes fixed on Annabel’s, which were still pale but now narrowed and even more suspicious. This was getting more and more surreal. Definitely the last time she’d deliver anything to anyone.
A gruff, sharp voice spoke authoritatively. ‘Okay, stand up slowly. Put whatever it is in your hands down. I said, put it down, lady.’
That voice. Her mind swung back to early this morning, a brush of skin on skin. Toned thighs and a kind smile. But what if she was wrong? What if it wasn’t Nick? And what if she moved too quickly, turned around too fast and, by trying to do the right thing, she did the absolute wrong thing?
Her back to the police officers, she carefully dropped the dustpan, slowly lay the brush on the floor, and then raised her hands. ‘I can explain. I… it’s not a weapon. It’s—’
There was an audible intake of breath. ‘Jenna? Jenna? What the hell?’
Nick.
Yep.
Ice trickled down her spine. Of course Nick. Why not Nick when she was on her hands and knees, backside up in the air and about to get arrested for attempted murder?
Chapter 6
She slowly turned, and there he was, his stance primed for action, every muscle and sinew taut. Again in his uniform. Again looking breathtakingly gorgeous. Only this time, instead of his easy smile, he was looking far from impressed.
Surprised, certainly. Shocked, definitely. Frowning. Angry.
At least he wasn’t holding a gun to her head, which, judging by the way her day was going, was an actual possibility given his colleagues had them.
They had guns.
This was the kind of thing he did every day, put himself on the line trying to save others. Trying to catch the bad guys, to make a better world for people like her and her daughter. Any different scenario and he could have been killed running in here like that.
Killed. The thought of that loss whipped her off balance and added something to her voice that was half fear, half anger. ‘Nick? What the heck are you doing here?’
‘I could ask you the same thing. We had a report of someone being attacked. S
omething about a murder.’ His eyebrows rose as he looked around, first at her, then at the crumpled, bleeding woman next to her, at the tablecloth half on, half off the table and the broken glass on the carpet. She could see his brain trying to compute what the hell had happened.
Meanwhile hers was reverberating with the pain under her ribcage at the stupidity of him putting himself into dangerous situations when there were people who would miss him so badly if the worse thing happened.
‘I think it was probably Tammy who called you. We were on the phone when I heard Annabel scream.’ Jenna tried to shrug nonchalantly, only she didn’t feel nonchalant; she felt suddenly immeasurably tired. Why hadn’t she just stayed at her lovely shop instead of trying to inflate her own ego? That was what it had been, after all; she’d been wanting to bask in the glory of her flower arranging skills. Big mistake. ‘It was just a misunderstanding. A completely false alarm. Mrs Delacourte shouted I’ll kill you, then I heard a crash and another scream—you can imagine how that sounded from outside.’
‘God, Jenna.’ Nick’s eyes flicked to his two companions and then back to her. She could see something flash behind his eyelids, and then he closed his eyes for the briefest of moments. Regaining control? Why? Had he been as surprised to see her here as much as she was surprised to be here like this?
He bent to speak to Annabel. Jenna couldn’t hear what he said, but the old lady looked up at her and rubbed her hand across the bleeding wound on her cheek. ‘The flower girl? No. Not at all. It was that bloody stray.’
Whoa. He’d actually asked Annabel if Jenna had hurt her? Really? He was a master of mixed messages today. She wanted to scream her innocence—actually, she wanted to shout at him for doubting her, for being here—but bit her lip.
Did he think she was capable of doing something so depraved? Didn’t he trust her?
No. Actually, he didn’t. She knew that well enough. Knew that even though they’d written many emotional words to each other over the years, the task of really getting to know someone enough to trust them was beyond hard.
But even so, even with his history, how could he think her capable of hurting someone?
With a sigh, he told the other two officers to stand down and they fussed around Annabel, sitting her in a chair, clearing up the broken glass and making them all a cup of tea. A black cat appeared and wove itself between everyone’s legs, and they all agreed how lovely it was and possibly lucky—or unlucky—depending on your outlook, to have it walk across your path. To be honest, Jenna felt she was definitely on the unlucky side today.
Between them, they managed to unstick the window and close it completely. Mrs Delacourte seemed happy enough, especially when Jenna found another vase to display the flowers, and after she’d finished arranging them, they really did look lovely.
Once Annabel had been sorted out, Nick and Jenna went outside. The rest of his team edged away towards the two patrol cars, seemingly sensing… something… between them. Not so much the old nudging knowing tease, more a raised eyebrow and some not-so-subtle sidestepping.
Jenna vehemently wished they hadn’t. She didn’t want to be left alone with him, and yet she did. She was rattled that he’d caught her here wrapped up in something so inane, rattled that he’d asked Annabel whether she’d been hurt by Jenna, rattled that she’d seen him in action and putting himself in danger. Rattled, mostly, by all the other emotions she had when she was around him too. ‘I should get going. Chloe’s going to be worried.’
‘Hey, Jenna, hang on a minute. Are you okay? You look very pale. D’you want to sit down? Catch your breath? You want me to take you home?’ His hand was on her arm. Gentle, but there, and she couldn’t ignore it and the way it made her feel; cared for, safe. And still bloody angry.
‘I don’t think I need to arrive back at the shop in a cop car, thanks all the same. The Cassidy’s have enough form in that area, and I’m trying to keep a clean sheet.’ She shook his hand away as an emotion she didn’t want to acknowledge welled up inside and she realised that yes, she was pretty shocked, but not for the reason he thought she was. More about the strength of those emotions he instilled in her, not all of them good. He didn’t trust her. ‘Did you really think I was attacking that woman?’
His eyes looked bruised as they narrowed. ‘Whoa, Jenna. How well do you know me?’
‘In reality, not very. Not really. Not if you even had the slightest thought I might hurt someone.’
‘Of course I didn’t think you were attacking her. I couldn’t imagine you doing anything of the sort.’ He drew her to a low brick wall edging Mrs Delacourte’s house boundary, and they both perched on it. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
‘I’m not being ridiculous. I’m being annoyed. This is what my annoyed looks like. What did you ask her?’
His shoulders slumped. ‘Jenna, this is my job. I asked her if she was okay and how she’d got that gash on her cheek. The fact you were there spooked me, and I may not have handled it very well.’
‘You can say that again.’
‘In my defence, I don’t usually expect to see my friends in my line of work, and especially not you.’ His forehead tipped towards hers, and she could see him struggling with whatever was going on inside his head. ‘I don’t ever want to see you at a crime scene, okay?’
‘Trust me on this, I don’t ever want to be at one. Do you usually just barge into dangerous situations like that? What if I really had been attacking her? What if I’d had a knife, or worse, a gun? What if it wasn’t me and was some big burly guy or group of men instead?’
He gave her a small smile, as if she was really sweating minor details. ‘Don’t worry. We’re trained to deal with high-tension scenarios, Jen. We had backup round the corner only two minutes away. There were enough of us to deal with anything that came our way.’
‘You didn’t have to burst through the door. You could have knocked instead of all that macho Police! nonsense.’
‘That’s not necessarily how we do things.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I say, good morning, old chap, do let me in. I’ve had wind of a dark felony occurring. Oh, yes, of course I’ll wait while you make away with the family silver out the back door.’
‘And now you’re laughing at me.’ But she couldn’t help the smile at his terrible accent and the slight tease in his voice.
‘God no, Jenna.’ His hand was back on her arm and he tugged it, getting her to look up into his eyes. ‘Never.’
‘Good. I like to be taken seriously.’
‘Aha. Understood.’
‘Except for when I don’t.’
‘I’m having a very hard time trying to keep up. But I’m a fast learner.’ He wanted to keep up, wanted to learn more about her, she could tell. She didn’t know what to say as a pulse of heat started low in her belly and crept through her muscles, her bones, her limbs. It was a heat she hadn’t felt for a very long time, which transformed into a sudden and unbidden ache to touch him. To kiss him.
And she had a feeling he felt the same too as the gold in his eyes was burning bright like a flame, a hundred flames. There was a moment where neither of them spoke, where the urge to touch him propelled her towards him, tilting her head, and suddenly his hand was on her cheek.
Somewhere, a car horn tooted, and he pulled his hand away as if he’d been stung. His voice was darker, deeper. Thick and rich. ‘Right then. Okay. As long as we’re clear.’
‘Totally.’
What had just happened? She felt as if she’d been possessed by a strange, overwhelming desire and had obviously projected it on him. Because surely he hadn’t felt the same thing?
It was the shock, that was all. And the fear of being in a dangerous situation. That did funny things to a person. She’d be fine once she’d found her equilibrium again.
But the toot hadn’t come from one of the cars close by. In fact, she couldn’t be sure which direction the sound had come from. Her heart began to beat rapidly. Was this Ollie playing with her? One close moment with
a guy after three years of grieving and this is how her dead husband reacted?
Don’t be stupid.
‘Well, it’s definitely all action with you around, isn’t it?’ Nick smiled, the heat now muted to just his friendly warmth, and she wondered whether the whole thing had just been a figment of her imagination.
Be normal. ‘I was just delivering flowers and got caught up in something very innocent. That’s all. My life is generally pretty dull. Anyway, it’s been an interesting morning, but I really need to get back. Chloe’s looking after the shop, and I said I’d only be gone for a few minutes.’ She glanced at her phone and grimaced. ‘An hour and a half later and she’ll be panicking. All I need is a missing persons alert put out on me and my day will be just perfect.’
His gaze softened. ‘Bad, huh?’
She dug deep to find the shiny happy person she’d once been and found a little bit of her. ‘Ah, no. I was just so excited to witness the reaction of one of my clients, and it didn’t exactly turn out quite how I expected. Serves me right for being endlessly nosy and looking for an ego boost.’
‘Don’t ever doubt yourself, Jenna.’ His hand brushed against hers as he straightened up, pointing to the car. The tingles started again—actually, they hadn’t gone anywhere. ‘Okay. Got to go too. You know how it is. Villains to chase. Crimes to solve. No rest for the wicked.’
‘Okay. Please, be very careful.’ Wise words, indeed. But even as she said them out loud to him, she felt them resonate deep inside herself too.
*
‘So, you know her?’ Sergeant Tony—aka Nick’s new boss—nodded towards Jenna, who was now walking slowly back up the hill. The gentle sway of her backside was mesmerising. Nick didn’t want to take his eyes off her, but he had to. He was at work, for God’s sake.
He presumed Tony was talking about Jenna but maybe he meant the fractious old lady. ‘Know who?’
‘The chubby girl with the flowers.’ Tony opened the patrol car door and climbed into the driver’s seat.
Nick inhaled slowly, controlling his reaction. Man, it was hard being the newbie. In his old job, he’d have decked someone the minute they’d said something like that. This time he opened and closed his fists, relaxing them best he could and climbed into the passenger seat. ‘Yes, she’s a friend of mine. Known her since high school, so quit with the stupid comments.’
Something About You (Something Borrowed Series Book 2) Page 7