Be My Baby

by Fiona Harper

  Jennie began to shake, right down to her fingertips. He could feel her hand trembling in his.

  ‘You don’t mean.?’

  Marion winked at Alex, clearly having

  decided he was a stomach bug that Jennie needed a second dose of, and he was unexpectedly glad to have found an ally, someone who realised Jennie shouldn’t always be able to shimmy her way out of difficult situations, that she had to learn to face the consequences of her actions.

  ‘Should have thought of it sooner,’ she said mildly. ‘I’m sure Alice wouldn’t mind, and it seems a shame to let the room go to waste.’ And then she pressed a key with a large plastic tag on it into Jennie’s hand.

  Jennie clamped her fingers around it as if it were a hand grenade with the pin out. And then the tension bled out of her and Alex knew he’d won. Funnily enough, he was disappointed by her reaction. He’d never known her admit defeat so easily. Her bullheaded determination was one of the things he loved about her.

  Maybe he’d been wrong about her from the start. They’d rushed headlong into things, too caught up in the whirlwind that seemed to storm and crash around them when they were together. Unfortunately, he’d forgotten that, while whirlwinds were awesome displays of natural power, they were ultimately destructive. What a pity he hadn’t realised that until he’d been picking through the wreckage of his marriage, wondering what had gone wrong and whether it was even worth collecting the debris to see if it could be put back together.

  In the end, he’d decided that all he really knew about Jennie Hunter was that she was the one woman who’d fascinated him, captivated him. Ensnared him. And that she’d run away the first time the going had got tough.

  ‘You know where it is, don’t you, Jennie?’ Marion said. ‘After all, you got ready there this morning.’

  Jennie nodded dully and started leading the way. Marion grabbed his arm as he passed her and leaned forward to whisper in his ear. ‘Good luck,’ she said, squeezing gently. ‘She’s hard work—but she’s worth it.’ And then she walked smoothly across the foyer and disappeared into the banqueting hall.

  Alex followed Jennie up the large wooden staircase. Not as closely as he had before, but close enough to watch those memorable curves move under the satin of that dress.

  She had to be wearing that dress, didn’t she?

  Finally, they reached the top of the staircase and she led him down a corridor to a vast pair of double doors. Instead of opening the door, she just stood there, the key clutched in her closed left hand.

  She wore no ring, he realised.

  Slowly, he peeled her fingers away from the key’s plastic tab, and when he’d reached the last one he stopped. He realised the reason for her hesitation now, shared a little of it himself, if he were honest.

  In gold italic writing, on the moulded smooth plastic of the old-fashioned room key were two words: Bridal Suite.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ALEX was glad the sun was finally lowering itself behind the trees and rhododendrons, changing the neat lawn’s wide stripes a dirty gold colour. Garden parties were, by definition, a daytime pursuit, and he’d soon be able to legitimately say his goodbyes. Inside his jacket pocket, his fingers traced the flat buttons of his mobile phone. He imagined sliding it open and dialling the number of the local cab company he’d programmed in earlier.

  When his senior partner, Edward, had suggested this event to thank the staff and schmooze their most important contacts, Alex hadn’t been slow in voicing his objections. The beginning of September wasn’t really the perfect time for an outdoor event, was it? But Edward wasn’t cutting his annual sailing trip in Barbados short for anyone, so September it had been.

  Luckily, the fickle English summer had only got into her stride around mid-August and had decided to linger awhile yet. The day had dawned bright and sunny and all afternoon a warm breeze had rippled the petals of the late roses in Edward’s borders. But then Edward was an annoyingly lucky man.

  Alex sighed and sipped his cold beer. He supposed it had been a good party. To be honest, he’d coasted through it, moving his mouth when he’d had to, smiling if he really must, but he hadn’t retained a single fact about anyone he’d talked to. He couldn’t even remember what he’d filled his plate with at the buffet table. Unless it was connected with work, it seemed details were beyond him these days.

  He found a lone wicker chair in the corner of the lawn and waited for the crowds milling in and out of the vast conservatory, or under the rose-twined pergola, to thin. It would look bad if he was the first to disappear, but once others had started to drift off he could follow their lead. The last thing he wanted to do was stand out in this crowd. That would mean they would expect him to be brilliant and eloquent, dazzle them with stories of trials lost and won. And, while he had stories aplenty, he knew that the greyness inside him would invade the telling. So, while he kept his distance, he let them whisper about his aloofness, his distance. Better that than let them find out the brilliance, the eloquence, only happened when he set foot inside the Old Bailey.

  He’d got used to this—sitting at the sidelines, watching everyone else have fun—and he knew it should bother him, but he couldn’t muster the energy. He wasn’t unhappy. And at least he knew what to expect from life. No drama. No nasty surprises. He’d had his fill of those. He knew some of his junior colleagues joked that, if attached to a heart monitor, he’d produce a monotonous line instead of peaks and valleys, but he didn’t care about that either. They were young. They didn’t understand that peaks were often overrated and valleys could sink below the threshold of what you could bear. Let them laugh.

  The sky grew bluer and bluer, from peacock through to sapphire, but still the guests didn’t diminish. If anything, there seemed to be more of them. When someone turned a switch somewhere, and the paths, shrubbery and whole pergola lit up with a million little white lights, everyone cheered. Blues music started to play, and people under the pergola started to dance. Alex just frowned.

  Great. Trust Edward to have a garden party that turned into an all-night rave.

  ‘Should have guessed I’d find you sulking out here on your own.’

  He turned to see Edward’s wife, Charity, smiling down at him. She’d been a trophy wife fifteen years ago, but Edward had certainly struck gold. Far from being a blonde airhead, Charity was an astute businesswoman herself now, and there was no one more elegant and poised. She was the sort of wife men in their position should have.

  Mocking laughter filled the inside of his head. He silenced it by standing and giving Charity a soft kiss on the cheek.

  ‘I’m not sulking.’

  Charity just smiled. ‘Edward’s been asking for you. Some bigwig he wants you to impress. He’s out on the terrace.’ She pointed to a huddle of dark suits at the other edge of the garden.

  Alex sighed and gave his partner’s wife a little salute but, before he managed to set off in Edward’s direction, she tugged at his sleeve.

  ‘It’s about time you let her go, Alex.’

  She didn’t need to mention a name.

  He looked at Charity, her face soft with compassion, and it made a nameless part inside him even colder. ‘I don’t seem to remember having any say in whether she came or went,’ he said without expression.

  ‘You know what I mean,’ she replied, a glint of her inner strength appearing behind that softness. ‘It’s been almost four years. You’ve got to forgive her and move on.’

  Forgive her? Even if he knew how, he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

  He shrugged one shoulder and nodded, hoping that would be enough of an answer, and set off in the direction of the group of suits. At least he wouldn’t have to talk about this kind of stuff with them.

  Talking to the suits wasn’t hard, either. They didn’t want small talk; they wanted legal facts and arguments. Even so, when he’d done his bit, he extricated himself from the group as soon as possible and wandered away from the house, down the lit path to the patio under the l
arge pergola. He kept going, weaving through the other guests, until he reached the far edge, leaned against a post and let his gaze follow the way the grass changed from artificial green to inky blue as the glow from the fairy lights diminished.

  He stayed that way for minutes, until something happened behind him. He was never able afterwards to quantify exactly what it had been—whether the noise level and laughter had increased, or the lights had flickered brighter. He’d half-thought he’d sensed a soft warm breeze, like the memory of the afternoon’s sunshine, but whatever it was, he’d turned round.

  His eyes locked instantly on the woman in front of him. A jumble of images rolled over him, each in shocking high definition. Pale blonde hair, the colour of sand on a Highland beach. The graceful flick of a hand as she illustrated a story she was telling. A smile that just seemed to grow and grow and grow. The fairy lights above his head seemed to buzz louder in response to her presence.

  Everywhere around her there was colour, life. And not just around her—it seemed to be coming from inside of her. That wasn’t possible, was it? But he just had to look around him to see that something had happened. Suddenly, people were laughing more, dancing with more abandon.

  She swayed along to a song as she laughed briefly with someone who’d been trying hard to catch her attention, then moved on. And then he realised she was moving towards him, and he was standing as stiff as one of his golf clubs with his mouth slightly open. He tried to blink and failed.

  She looked straight at him, and her smile lifted at one side. ‘What’s this?’ she said, her voice soft and slightly husky. ‘Someone not enjoying the party?’

  Alex didn’t know how it had happened, but suddenly he was inside the bubble of noise and colour that seemed to follow her everywhere. He felt different. Lighter. Stronger. As if he wanted to laugh, shout and sing all at once. And the electricity! Had he stepped on a loose wire? Because that was the only possible explanation for the warm buzzing feeling travelling all over him. At once he stopped resting on the post and stood up. And then he smiled back. Not the fake pulling of lips over teeth his colleagues normally saw him do. This one just crept over his mouth and expanded all on its own.

  ‘Who told you that?’ he said, then smiled even harder as he sensed a slight irregularity in the rhythm of her breathing. How he’d sensed it, he didn’t know. He just had. He wasn’t alone in this. She felt it, too.

  Her smile was warm and sassy. Inviting. It made her pale pink lips practically irresistible. So Alex bent forward and tasted them. She didn’t start or pull away. She just closed her eyes and met him.

  A while later he began to hear things again, feel something other than her softness under his fingertips. He realised she had her arms wound around his neck and he had one hand pressing against her back and the other at the base of her throat. They were both slightly breathless, and it helped his sense of equilibrium to see she was just as dazed as he was.

  They stayed like that for a few seconds, forehead to forehead. ‘And to think someone told me you didn’t like parties,’ she said between breaths.

  Alex just pulled her close and laughed, actually felt it rumbling through him like a sound wave. ‘Hearsay,’ he said and kissed her quickly, dragging his lips away before he got lost again. ‘This is the best party I’ve ever been to.’

  But she had other plans. She used the anchor of her hands to pull him close again, until he could feel her breath on his parted lips. And then it was all gone again. The lights, the roses, the whole flipping garden.

  People began to stop dancing and began to whisper. Nudge each other in the sides and give each other knowing looks. But Alex didn’t notice the lull in conversation or even sense the pairs of eyes turned his way. No more monotone lines for him. His pulse was drowning it all out with a steady and emphatic bump. Alex’s hand closed around Jennie’s and he tugged at the plastic key tag, yet she couldn’t seem to let it go. She was totally terrified, and it was pathetic.

  Terrified of the look of disgust in his eyes, terrified of what he was about to say—of what he might not say. Terrified she still loved him as much as ever, that the all consuming chemistry they generated together would overwhelm her. That she’d turn around and give in. But she couldn’t do that. She needed to take a stand and let him know that she was worth more than being second place in his affections. Taking the wide path that led to destruction was not an option this time. Pity, because she’d been down that road so many times she knew all the motels by name.

  He was so close. Just the graze of his jacket cuff against her bare arm was enough to make her hyperventilate. She was tempted to close her eyes, wish the events of the last month away, pull him into the suite and continue the honeymoon that had been so rudely interrupted.

  By him, remember. Don’t give in. Look where it got you last time—a ring on your finger, yes, but your heart in pieces.

  She let him ease the key from her clenched fingers and stepped sideways, out of proximity.

  His fingers weren’t shaking. He didn’t seem to have any problems functioning normally, damn him. She let out a silent sigh. She’d always known, right from that first night, that Alex was a man who knew how to be steady, who knew how to keep control, but she’d never realised he could be this cold. But, then again, why would she have done? She’d been too busy basking in the heat of a passionate whirlwind romance. Who gave thought to winter when the sun shone?

  Her father had always scolded her for jumping into things with both feet, and she’d steadily ignored his criticism, believing her nothing ventured, nothing gained philosophy got her where she wanted to go. She’d been dumbstruck when she’d realised the truth—that the flip side of her approach was everything ventured, everything lost. This was what happened when you made a mess so big nobody could sweep it under the rug for you.

  Alex pushed the door open and, with an economical hand gesture, indicated she should enter ahead of him.

  For a moment she just stared at the scene in front of her. She and Alice and Coreen had got ready in the suite this morning, and the evidence of the chaos was still in place. A hanging rail with empty garment bags stood off to one side and there were pots of makeup and a pair of abandoned hair straighteners on the coffee table, spoiling the romantic impact this room should have had. Thankfully.

  She walked into the centre of the suite’s living room and stood there, waiting for the click of the door. Dreading it. When it came, she flinched.

  All she had to do now was turn around and face him. Yet she didn’t move, suddenly couldn’t take her eyes off the champagne bucket in the corner of the room. An unopened bottle remained there, surrounded with melted ice.

  She heard him take a step—just one—towards her, and then there was silence.

  What was wrong with the man? Did he think he’d be contaminated if he got any closer? She spun around to find him studying her closely, almost analytically.

  ‘The last time I saw you in that dress, you were promising to stay by my side for ever.’

  She crossed her arms across her middle, uncrossed them again. ‘Believe me, if I could have worn anything else today, I would have. It wasn’t my choice. Frankly, I can’t wait to get out of it.’

  And toss it out of the window, she silently added. Or burn it. It would make a very elegant bonfire.

  Alex’s eyebrows rose slightly and his mouth tilted into a sarcastic smile. ‘Don’t let me stop you.’

  There was literally no breath left in her body to answer him with. She tried anyway. ‘You… You’re.’

  ‘Insufferable? Judgemental? High-handed?’ The smile twisted his face further, and he walked towards her. ‘Heard it all before. I can keep going with adjectives until I come up with something more fitting, if you like.’

  ‘I… You…’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘How about this for a description? The man you deserted before the ink was dry on the marriage certificate? I promise you, that’s a brand new one for me.’

  Jennie want
ed to laugh, but it came out as a cough. What parallel dimension was this guy living in? She felt like punching him on the nose, and she bet that’d be a brand new experience for Mr Alex Dangerfield as well.

  ‘I deserted you? That’s rich!’ She closed the rest of the distance between them, looked him right in the eye. ‘Who was it exactly who sat on their own in a hotel room for almost a week after her new husband had vanished into thin air? Not you, that’s for sure!’

  ‘You’re being ridiculous. I didn’t vanish, as you call it. You knew where I was going and why. I phoned while I was away. And I distinctly remember apologizing and promising I’d be back. What more could I have said?’

  The fact that he sounded all calm and reasonable had her consider throwing that punch. Unfortunately, just as her fury reached boiling point, it evaporated, condensing into moisture that stung the backs of her eyes.

  It was all the things he hadn’t said that had been the problem. For a few wonderful months, she’d been the sole recipient of all Alex’s love, devotion and attention. And, with a man as intense as Alex, that was a heady cocktail. She’d felt lit up by him. When he looked at her, it was as if she was in the beam of a scorching bright searchlight but, instead of withering under its bleaching stare, she’d come alive, sparkled all the brighter. It was where she’d thought she was supposed to be. She hadn’t cared if anyone else had paid her attention or not. All she had wanted to do was live her life in the warmth of Alex’s spotlight.

  Maybe she’d been out of her mind, drunk on that feeling, but all she knew now was that when that phone call had come, his light had swung away and focused somewhere else, and she’d been left shivering in the shadows, feeling lost and hungover.

  In those short, hurried phone calls, often on car journeys between appointments, he’d given her information, but never reassurance. And then a trip that had only been supposed to last a day or two had dragged on and on.