‘Sure, Robbie, I understand. It’s just… I thought she’d changed,’ Hartley said meekly.
‘She’s done a good job on you, that’s for sure.’
Hartley felt sick again. ‘I’m an imbecile.’
‘No, you’re just too trusting.’
‘I think it’s too late for me and Lucy, Robbie. How the hell do I make up for any of this?’
‘Well, flowers and chocolates probably won’t do the trick, right enough…’
Robbie felt for his pal. He didn’t have a bad bone in his body. He couldn’t really be blamed for assuming Lucy was involved in Peat. Whatever Bridget had organized, she’d done it pretty convincingly. Even he had thought there was no other explanation. And yet Lucy had seemed so unassuming, happy just to be there with Hartley. He had desperately hoped they would make a go of it – and that Lucy had an identical twin sister she could put his way.
‘Is there any way you can see her again?’ Robbie asked.
‘Well, I heard she’s coming to the Hogmanay Ball.’ Hartley could scarcely believe it when one of the Foundation committee members had given him a list of guests and Lucy was on it, on Clarissa’s table. His heart had leaped. Maybe it was a sign she didn’t hate him too much – after all, she knew he was going to be there. But then what if one of the men on her table was her new boyfriend and they were madly in love? It was no less than Hartley deserved.
‘OK, well, that’s a good sign. It’s your ball so she can’t despise you too much. There’s only one thing for it.’
‘There is?’
‘Yes. Tell her the truth at the ball – how you dialled her number and hung up more than once, everything. Let her know how sorry you are.’
Hartley couldn’t help but think anything he said would be futile. Why would she want to even speak to him? But still, Robbie was right; she did know he’d be at the ball. Maybe there was a chance.
‘And Hartley?’
‘Yes?’
‘Remember, I’m coming to the ball too, you big girl, so I’ll be there to hold your hand.’
‘Bugger off,’ Hartley said as he put down the phone.
THE LUKE OF LOVE
Max had sent her picture of Charlie to Claire’s mobile straight away. Her boss was delighted. As Max had taken the photo herself there was no chance of any rival papers having the same story. Indeed, as no other journalists had been inside – Max was sure of that – Claire could bill it as a ‘world exclusive’. Max added Claire’s name on the byline. Many journalists wouldn’t but it was newspaper etiquette to credit a writer who had contributed to the story and, after all, Max wouldn’t have had an exclusive without Claire’s tip. She had no doubt that Claire would have added her name to it in any case.
Max had sent the copy on her BlackBerry, hamming it up for all its worth.
CHARLIE’S BACK ON THE CHARLIE EXCLUSIVE BY MAXINE SUMMERS AND CLAIRE ROBERTS
It was the ticket they all wanted, the hottest showbiz event of the year – and our girl made it inside to bring you all the news.
We can exclusively reveal that Hollywood mega-star Charlie Jackson – who just last week vowed he had overcome his deadly addiction to cocaine – is back on the Class A drug.
Our girl caught the actor, who has starred in gritty blockbusters including Russian Roulette and My Name is Carl, with a nose-full of the stuff.
And she even got the picture to prove it.
It was the early hours back in the UK, too late to make that day’s paper. Claire could use it as her list-topper for tomorrow’s conference.
In fairness, Claire was a decent boss. She would credit Max with the story – of course, pointing out she had received the tip about the party in the first place. But still, newspapers were full of bosses a lot worse than Claire, who was undoubtedly talented.
Max was elated but suddenly overcome by tiredness. It was 11 p.m. – 4 a.m. UK time – and she was jet-lagged. She called Sean, who told her he was still with Cath and Connor in the same bar, and joined them for a nightcap. Max had one drink then apologized for bailing out so early – it certainly wasn’t like her.
She’d treat them to dinner at Soho House during her stay. Or rather, her company would. After telling Claire about the picture, her boss had insisted that she spend her expenses like there was no tomorrow while in New York. Who was she to refuse? And Max loved to mix the two – glam hang-outs with friends she adored.
Max hailed a cab back to the Wellington. She couldn’t wait for bed. As she asked for her key at reception she realized she was slurring slightly. The drinks had gone straight to her head, mixing with fatigue to make her feel a little giddy.
‘Hey.’
Max froze as someone tapped her on the shoulder. Shit. Had the doormen from the Hudson tracked her down? Would a scene involving handcuffs and police follow?
Max slowly turned round.
‘Luke?’
It was him. It really was. Luke was standing in front of her, all twinkly eyes and ruffled hair. God, he was gorgeous.
Was he here to work? On holiday? Why did he look happy to see her when she’d ignored him? Max should be embarrassed for the terrible way she’d treated him. But there was something about the way he was looking at her. Those bright blue-green eyes were laughing again.
‘What are you doing here?’
Luke was calm. She liked that. God, he was hot. How come he was so calm? Why here? Max felt her heart rate rise, her face redden. How could she not freak out?
‘I’m here to see you.’
‘Me?’
‘Yes.’
‘You’ve come to New York to see me?’ Max wondered if her heart had actually stopped as she said those words.
‘Yes. Lucy told me that you do in fact really like me and that you callously ignored me because of what she said to you.’
‘She did?’ How did Lucy know that?
As if reading her mind, Luke cut in. ‘I think your mum might have had a gentle word.’ Luke’s eyes were smiling kindly.
‘I see.’ It was beginning to make sense. Max had never been able to hide the truth from Marj. Or Lucy, normally, but she’d had so much on her mind.
‘Have you been waiting for me for a long time?’ Max asked.
‘Not really – a couple of hours, but I’ve had a few beers and the New York Post to keep me company.’
‘Oh OK.’
Luke suddenly seemed a little less sure of himself, shuffling on his feet. ‘You don’t think I’m a mad stalker coming all this way to see you? I believe that if you want something you should just go for it…’
Max laughed, throwing her glossy brown hair back. She looked up into his face. ‘You know what Lucy said… that I really liked you?’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Well, why would she go and lie about a thing like that?’
Luke smiled down at Max.
God, she wanted him. ‘I’m so sorry for ignoring you… I really didn’t want to, it’s just…’
Max desperately wanted to tell him how she’d done it for Lucy, but how could she? She couldn’t blame Lucy; that would be cowardly. The last thing she wanted was to be the cause of Luke and Lucy falling out.
Luke was leaning in towards her. He was whispering to her, telling her it was OK, he knew everything.
He gently brushed Max’s hair from her face and his lips, so soft and warm, were on hers. She moved in closer to his body. She felt his tongue on hers. She wanted all of him.
Max had no idea how long she lost herself in him for – seconds, minutes? She pulled away, suddenly aware people were watching.
Luke was grinning. ‘They must be thinking, “Get a room.” ’
Max laughed. ‘Just as well I’ve got one, then.’
AN EVEN CLOSER SHAVE FOR MAX
It turned out Luke had booked a room in the hotel too.
‘I’d like to spend the night with you,’ he told her. His confidence was overwhelmingly sexy. ‘I don’t mean… you know… but I’ve come all this way and
I just want to be with you.’
Max could think of nothing she would prefer to being held close to him all night. Mind you, she wasn’t entirely sure either of them would be able to hold back.
Luke told her he’d come to her room in twenty minutes. He wanted to jump in the shower first.
Thank God, thought Max. She could freshen up too. And shave her legs. She had a waxing appointment booked for next week in London but the last thing she wanted was for Luke to feel her hairy legs. Thankfully, she’d brought a razor.
Stepping into the shower she let out a scream as the freezing water hit her. Jumping back, she gave it a moment to warm up. After lathering her hair with shampoo, she rinsed it off while hurriedly rubbing hotel soap all over her body. At times like this she wished she’d packed her best soaps and creams, like Lucy did wherever she went. But who could have foreseen Luke would turn up? How wonderful. Almost too good to be true. Max considered that it was a peculiarly pessimistic human trait to worry that things were going too well and to wonder what was round the corner. Enjoy the moment, she told herself as she washed the film of soap off her body.
Max launched herself out of the shower and quickly towelled herself dry. She brushed through her hair. No time to dry it – hell, the tousled look could be sexy. Max brushed her teeth, applied a light coat of mascara to open her sleepy eyes and rubbed in a little face cream.
He was really here. He’d flown to New York just to see her. Max was overcome with anticipation and excitement as she sprinted in little bursts around the room, picking up clothes she’d discarded about the place and shoving them under the bed.
She pulled on her cream-satin nightie, which only just covered her bum. A little indecent without pants, she thought, rummaging through her suitcase for her La Perla cream thong. A scoosh of Jo Malone Lime, Basil and Mandarin, nice and fresh.
‘There, done,’ she said aloud standing in front of the mirror. ‘Shit, no, my legs,’ she muttered, racing through to the bathroom. Turning on the shower she put her right leg over the bath and started shaving. No bloody shaving cream. Ah well, needs must. Done. Now the left leg.
A knock at the door.
Shit.
‘Just coming,’ she shouted.
Two more lines. That’s it. Good.
Max turned off the shower and ran to the door.
‘Hey,’ she said, opening the door, a surge of confidence rising within her. Luke had come all this way for her. There was no point in worrying if he liked her as much as she liked him. He clearly did.
She kissed him lightly on the lips and stepped back. He followed her in. Max was standing a few feet away from him. She wanted to look at him, make sure he was really here. He was wearing those baggy faded jeans and a light blue T-shirt. He was so effortlessly sexy.
Max looked at his face. Something wasn’t right. He looked panicked.
‘Luke?’
‘Jesus, Max.’
God, why did he look disgusted, like he was about to faint?
He was staring at her legs. She looked down.
Blood was gushing down her right leg. A bright-red stream from just above her knee down to her foot. She must have nicked herself with the razor.
Luke stepped towards her, his face etched with concern.
‘Max, what have you done?’
‘I’ve shaved my legs, Luke. Just not very well,’ Max ventured sheepishly.
He looked at her face. He guessed that guilty expression hadn’t changed much since she was a toddler. He bellowed with laughter, doubling over.
Straightening up he looked at Max.
‘You are adorable.’
Max laughed back. ‘Well, that’s one way of seeing it.’
Luke picked up a white towel from the bed and wrapped it round her leg. They assessed her wound and realized the outlet for all that blood was nothing more than a teeny cut.
‘I’m OK,’ she whispered.
‘Good,’ Luke said, scooping her up and laying her on the bed.
GAME OVER
Bridget had never been so angry.
Hartley had been ignoring all her calls. Eventually, he had phoned her.
‘At last. Where the hell have you been?’
Bugger. She’d let the sickly-sweet act drop. The bastard deserved it; but still, she had to sound concerned rather than angry.
‘Hello, Bridget.’
‘Darling, sorry, it’s just… I’ve been so worried about you. Did you have to go to see your mother in Scotland, sweetie?’
‘No.’
Something was wrong.
‘Bridget, I know about everything.’
‘What do you mean?’
Hartley’s voice sounded deeper than normal, more serious.
‘I mean,’ he said purposefully, ‘your little game is up. I think you were behind the photographer in Scotland.’
Hartley let the words hang, imagining Bridget’s cold eyes taking them in.
‘And I suspect you have been behind much of the bad-mouthing of Lucy, not to mention her “murky” past that ended up in a newspaper.’
Think. Quick. How could he possibly know, Bridget asked herself. She had left no trace of evidence.
‘What on earth are you talking about, Hartley? My game? What game? Why are you saying these things?’
‘Enough, Bridget, enough.’ Hartley sounded more bored than angry.
‘Look, there’s obviously been some misunderstanding.’ Bridget was scrabbling for words, talking quickly. She had to keep him on the phone. ‘Has one of your friends said something? I know Bately never liked me – he’s making it up.’
‘It’s got nothing to do with Bately,’ Hartley replied evenly, his voice as cold as steel.
‘OK, it’s Lucy, isn’t it? She’d do anything to get you back. Did it not work out with Kirk Kelner, huh? She’s a cheap little slut who’s playing you for a fool.’
Hartley laughed. ‘Now that’s more like it, Bridget. The real you, the poisonous Bridget, had to come out sooner or later.’
The cold realization dawned on Bridget that she had let her guard down. But what did he expect? ‘Sorry, Hartley, it’s just… I can’t stand to see you get hurt. And that’s what she’ll do to you.’
‘Hurt?’ Hartley shouted. ‘Hurt? I’ll tell you what hurts. Hurt is what Lucy felt when you set her up in Scotland. Hurt is what she felt when I turned my back on her. Hurt, you self-obsessed witch, is what she most probably felt when she read a totally fabricated story about the past you thought she should be ashamed of. Hurt is what her family felt when they read the lies. Hurt – that’s the emotion Lucy felt when half of London was calling her a gold-digger. And hurt doesn’t even begin to cover what I feel at losing someone I was deeply in love with.’
Bridget, for once, was lost for words.
Still, what real proof did he have that she’d done these things?
‘I am furious you think I have anything to do with any of this,’ she told him indignantly. Anger – that would confuse him.
‘I no longer care. Goodbye, Bridget.’
‘No, wait,’ Bridget pleaded. ‘We have to meet. You’ll know I’m not lying when you see my face. I’m still coming to the Hogmanay Ball?’ she half asked and half demanded.
‘Do what you want,’ he told her. ‘You won’t be on my table but you have plenty of friends taking tables. I can’t stop you coming.’
Bridget was panicking. She had never heard Hartley say a cross word to anyone. He hated conflict of any kind.
‘I’ll cook us a lovely dinner tonight, your favourite: lamb with honey and mint sauce. And we’ll talk everything through, OK?’
Bridget’s heart pounded as she prayed he would say yes.
‘Bridget?’
‘Yes, darling?’
‘I’d rather prise out my eyeballs with a blunt spoon. Goodbye.’
LUCY’S UNEXPECTED BLOW
Kirk’s eyes were closed tightly as he concentrated fiercely on the expert oral he was being given by this little
platinum blonde. Carli, her name was. Kirk had asked his manager to sort out a hooker to come and give him head.
His mom had told him how Lucy had dated some dude with a title and that she was the kind of girl he should be going for. Daphne wasn’t wrong. Lucy was exquisite.
She was just the type of girl he would like to date. Sure, if things went well he’d stay faithful but, hell, this was their first date and he hadn’t had any action for weeks – well, at least a week. His manager was always telling him how he could sort out girls, no matter how last minute. So he had taken him up on the offer. Afterwards he would spend the evening with Lucy. That hair that smelled so good; those long legs; God, those wonderful round breasts. And she didn’t put out at the pop of a Cristal champagne cork either, which was novel.
‘Yeah, that’s it, baby…’
Kirk put his hands on the back of her head. He was close, so close. He opened his eyes.
Fuck.
Lucy.
‘Fuck.’
Kirk raised his hands from Carli’s head and raised his palms, like a man caught by cops trying to show he was unarmed.
Carli stopped, unsure why her famous client had suddenly deflated. Wait till the girls heard how she’d blown Kirk Kelner.
In one swift move Man of Steel himself would have been proud of, Kirk jumped to his feet while turning 180 degrees in the air. With his back to Lucy he hurriedly pulled his trousers from around his ankles and fastened his belt.
Kirk started to turn to Lucy, inching his way round as though, if he did it slowly enough, the whole scene would disappear, like a giant farce that had only been in his head.
Lucy was still there, half turned towards the door she had just entered.
‘Lucy,’ Kirk managed.
Lucy turned to face him, hardly able to meet his eyes. Her face must be purple. This was beyond mortifying. She couldn’t bring her eye level higher than Kirk’s chest.
He was silent.
‘Lucy,’ he started again, stepping towards her. Carli had slipped off to the bathroom.
Shit, he was coming towards her. Quick, think. ‘Kirk, I’ll let you get ready. See you in the bar downstairs.’
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