by Fiona Harper
Brave? Don’t make him laugh.
So Daniel paused for a moment, rubbed his face with both hands, then he marched back over to the curtain, pulled it aside and went to join his sister.
That evening, after Ben had been discharged from the hospital, the doctors assuring his mother he’d be fine, Daniel travelled halfway across London to go climbing. Even though this centre had a wall thirty feet taller than the one at his local climbing place, it still wasn’t high enough.
Never mind, a sarcastic little voice in his head said. You’ll be in reach of a real mountain in a week’s time. You’ll be happy then.
He grabbed for another handhold, pulled himself up and searched for the next place to put his foot. Maybe this wall wasn’t tall enough, but he could climb it more than once, couldn’t he?
But now there was a second voice inside his head. Most annoyingly, it belonged to his sister. And he realised he’d been doing a pretty good job of ignoring it since the night they’d toasted her divorce papers.
He decided he was under the wrong bit of the overhang to make his way past it, so he backtracked a bit and chose another route. As he groped sideways for a handhold he noticed a lean, dark-haired guy about his own age looking at him, studying him.
Daniel scowled at him briefly before continuing his climb. What was his problem?
As he climbed he considered the question Kelly had posed to him in the hospital. Would he, given the chance, erase his wife and son from his life completely, make it as if they had never existed? Would he choose freedom over pain?
He cracked the door of his memory open and saw Josh’s gummy smile, how his face had lit up every time Daniel had come home from work. He remembered how his son had smelled after a bath, and how, as a newborn, he’d clung monkeylike to his shoulder as Daniel had paced and sung to him in the small hours of the night.
Would he want to erase those memories if he could? Maybe he would. He’d tried his hardest to pretend they weren’t there for so long.
But when he tried to stuff the images he’d let loose away, they refused to go. Instead, they settled themselves into a corner of his consciousness, and when he let his mind wander in that direction he found, not necessarily joy, but warmth. Comfort. Not the screaming six-headed black dragon he’d expected to find. It seemed odd he’d run from them for so long.
Daniel stopped where he was on the wall, arrested by that thought. A couple of other climbers had to work their way round him while he hung there.
Running.
Not like a hunter chasing something, but like something being hunted. Had he really, all these years, had it all back to front?
And running from what? What was it that terrified him? He took a deep breath and mentally turned round to face it.
Love.
That was what it was. In any shape or any form. He’d even run from his family until circumstances had caused him to let Kelly and her boys into his life. But that was understandable, because love wasn’t a pretty thing full of hearts and flowers and rose petals. No, love was the six-headed monster, viciously devouring everything in its path, mincing it up and spitting it out to bleed.
He almost closed his eyes to block out the image, but then those memories that had been sitting quietly in the corner tapped him on the shoulder. They replayed themselves for him, and then they introduced him to a few more.
Daniel hauled in a shuddering breath.
Just like plants, human beings needed certain things to thrive. Oh, it would be so easy if those things were just light and water and good manure. So easy. But, no, humans needed more complicated things. Things like closeness and connection. Otherwise they could be healthy specimens on the outside, but they’d be dried up and withered inside. Human beings needed love.
He started climbing again, more slowly this time. He’d always be hunted by it until the last of his days. And he was so tired of running. He didn’t want to do it any more. It didn’t bring peace. It didn’t bring safety. All it brought was the promise that the next day would be another sprint. And the next. And the next …
And, really, there was no point in him running anyway. He was already in that trap, with no escape. Just like the fly that stupidly buzzed and exhausted itself trying to get out of the pitcher he was exhausting himself for nothing.
There was no point in struggling. It only made things worse.
He thought about Kelly, how she’d smoothed Ben’s hair in the hospital, a look of fierce determination on her face. She didn’t run. She chose to stay and fight, no matter what. Over the last couple of years she’d shown a strength and courage that put him to shame.
And that knowledge stirred something inside him.
They were made of the same stuff, him and Kelly. And, maybe, just maybe, if she could do this, so could he.
Oh, how Chloe hated Valentine’s Day.
It seemed the whole twenty-four hours had decided to gang up and make a mockery of her. Not only was it the last day of the orchid festival—the one packed with all the PR events, meaning she was forced to stay close to Daniel—but in the back of her head was a clock, counting down to the following morning, when he would leave.
It was torture.
If only … a little part of her kept saying. If only he was ready … If only he felt the same way about you that you feel about him …
A camera flash went off, hitting the back of her eyeballs with searing force. She blinked and tried to maintain the smile the PR woman had insisted they paste on, all the while trying to ignore the prickling of her skin because he was near.
She was worrying herself. Mainly because she was having recurrent fantasies where she invited him back to her houseboat for one last hot night before he disappeared from her life. Possibly for good.
It was a bad, bad idea.
Because she’d fallen in love with him anyway. And, if she felt as if something were ripping her insides out piece by piece now, what would it be like if she truly removed every last barrier and gave herself completely to him? She had to hang onto something, some piece of herself she wouldn’t lose. And, while she mourned Daniel’s inability to let himself love anything or anyone, she totally, totally understood it. If only she could achieve that nirvana of numbness herself.
She was standing beside him at the edge of the lily pad pool, in front of the brightly coloured rainbow of flowers she’d designed, but shortly everyone would move along to the Nash Conservatory, another of Kew’s old glasshouses, where the auction itself would be held.
‘That’s all for now,’ the photographer yelled as she checked her display, and Chloe started to leave. She saw Daniel move towards her, but after a second of eye contact that made her almost dizzy holding everything she was feeling back, she looked away, allowed herself to be bustled along to the next event. As much as she didn’t want to see him go, she was pretty sure she would fall apart completely if she had to talk to him.
As she’d said—torture.
The rest of the afternoon went in a bit of a blur. Before she knew it the sun was low in the sky, painting gold squares through the windows onto the wall of the Nash Conservatory, and she was sitting on a low platform near the auctioneer’s lectern with a few other select members of the team, ready to give a brief description of each specimen on sale that night. At least Daniel was at the other end of the row, giving her a vague chance of breathing.
However, the fact she knew he was looking at her, even though she refused to meet his gaze, was counteracting that completely.
The place was packed. Full of orchid and carnivorous plant enthusiasts as well as fervent Kew supporters, the general public and quite a few reporters and TV cameras. More than once she saw them zoom in on Daniel, who was looking wonderfully gruff and brooding with his arms crossed over his front as he slouched in his chair.
She closed her eyes and sent up a silent prayer.
Please … please, let her get through this without making a total fool of herself. That was all she asked.
Daniel was definitely not in the mood to smile for the cameras, even if the Channel Six woman batted her lashes at him so hard she started a typhoon. All day long he’d been trying to talk to Chloe, and all day long he’d failed. Partly because of the flurry of activity it took to pull an event like this together, but partly because he sensed she was keeping her distance. It was driving him bananas.
He needed to talk to her—face to face, one to one—and now it looked as if he might be robbed of that chance entirely he wasn’t inclined to look very happy. And Daniel was not good at pretending to be happy when he wasn’t.
He saw a camera pointed in his direction, a zoom lens being focused, and he just scowled harder. He had things he needed to discuss with Chloe—plans—and it couldn’t wait until tomorrow. In just over twelve hours he’d be at the airport.
The auctioneer banged his gavel and Daniel jumped. One of Chloe’s lots was up first. She walked past him and a waft of her perfume hit his nostrils. She began to talk about the Miltonia hybrid in her husky voice and he felt as if he wanted to climb out of his skin. He’d wanted to hear that voice all afternoon, but not giving facts and growing instructions; he wanted to hear her saying his name.
It seemed as if a thousand lots passed before his eyes, as if they’d sold off the entire contents of all the glasshouses and the arboretum, but really the whole auction must have lasted less than two hours.
Even then there was no let-up. The PR team wouldn’t set them free, insisting on more photos and, to top it all, a live TV interview for the evening news. The team was directed back onto the stage in front of some of the larger orchid displays that had been transported from the Princess of Wales Conservatory to be used as a backdrop.
Someone from the news crew rearranged the interviewees and he ended up standing next to Chloe. He caught her eye and she held his gaze for just a moment, but it was long enough. Long enough to know she was finding this just as unbearable as he was. He’d find a way to talk to her somehow, he would. They just needed to get through this interview first.
The reporter turned to the camera, smiled, and started her spiel. ‘This is Melissa Morgan for Channel Six news, live at Kew Gardens after their very successful tropical plant auction, which has raised thousands of pounds to go towards their conservation work all over the world …’
Daniel tuned her out. He only tuned back in again when he heard her mention first Chloe’s name then his own as she introduced them as team leaders for the festival. She looked at Daniel and pointed the microphone too close to his face.
‘As Head of Tropical Plants here at Kew, do you feel the festival has been a success?’
‘Yes,’ he said, then closed his mouth and folded his arms.
She opened her mouth to ask him a question, but he must have been looking particularly uncooperative because at the last moment she swung the microphone in Chloe’s direction instead and asked her about the design of the display and what her favourite orchid was.
He snorted gently to himself. It figured. Who’d talk to the Beast when Beauty was at hand?
He could tell Chloe was nervous, however, from the slight waver in her first words, but she was warm and articulate, and he knew the viewing public would be transfixed, just as he was. They would love her.
Just as he did.
But that reporter didn’t miss a trick. Too late he saw her notice the way he was looking at Chloe. Too late he looked away, crumpling his features back into his earlier scowl.
The reporter let Chloe finish her sentence and then she turned back to Daniel. He didn’t miss the slight arch of one eyebrow as she fired off her next question. Guess it hadn’t been such a good idea to tick her off.
‘This isn’t your first Valentine’s Day in the spotlight, is it, Daniel?’
If she thought she was getting even one word out of him now she was sadly mistaken. He merely blinked at her, raised his eyebrows in return.
Her eyes narrowed. ‘And how is it one year on after your Leap Year proposal?’ Her gaze flicked across to Chloe and then back to him. ‘Is there any special woman in your life you’d like to give a Valentine’s message to?’
Beside him, Chloe stiffened. He saw her glance at the exit.
‘I don’t think that’s any of your business,’ he said firmly.
Miss Morgan didn’t like that any better than the monosyllable he’d offered her earlier. She narrowed her eyes and turned the microphone back in Chloe’s direction.
‘And how about you, Chloe? I saw a very interesting picture of you on the Internet a couple of months ago …’ She gave Daniel a sideways glance. ‘What was it like to finally hook The One That Got Away? Did you decide to throw him back?’
Chloe’s mouth moved and she flushed deep pink. He could see the panic in her eyes, knew she was hating every second of this public interrogation.
‘You know what?’ he said suddenly. ‘I would like to answer your question. Maybe it’s time I set the record straight, then people might actually get on with their own lives instead of poking their noses into mine.’
‘Daniel …’ Chloe whispered beside him. ‘You don’t have to.’
Yes, he did. It was his fault Chloe had been put on the spot like this, and maybe it was time to stop running from this and face it head-on. Maybe it was time to face a lot of things head-on.
‘I said no when my girlfriend proposed to me last year,’ he began, ‘and I don’t regret it. What’s more, after the success of the Year of Georgia on Radio EROS—’ he watched in satisfaction as the reporter frowned at the mention of a rival media company ‘—I think it’s obvious that she’s doing much better without me than she was with me. And I can’t blame her. I wasn’t ready for love or marriage or anything like that then.’
A glint appeared in Melissa Morgan’s eyes. He knew what that was—killer instinct. She knew she had a story here and she was going to hunt it down. Luckily for her, Daniel had decided he was going to hand it to her on a plate.
‘And you’re ready now?’ she asked smoothly.
He’d spent weeks trying to let Chloe know how he felt. Unfortunately for him, he hadn’t quite realised what those feelings were until it was too late. No wonder she didn’t trust him, didn’t believe in him. Every time she’d put herself on the line for him, he’d pulled back. Well, now it was his turn, and he wasn’t going to run away from it.
He let the scowl melt from his features, looked the reporter in the eye and began to talk. ‘Turning Georgia down was the best thing I ever did—for me and for her. Without that, I wouldn’t have had the spotlight turned on me, and, in turn, I wouldn’t have had to take a good, hard look at myself.’
Beside him, Chloe started to fidget. He stopped looking at the reporter and looked at her instead. She met his gaze, and he could see hope and fear and sadness and discomfort warring behind her eyes. ‘This year I met someone,’ he said softly.
Morgan nudged the microphone closer and he resisted the urge to bat it away. She needed to hear this. Everyone needed to hear this, especially Chloe.
‘I met a woman,’ he continued. ‘An amazing, brave woman, who showed me what it really meant to be fearless, who showed me what courage—what dignity—looked like … and I fell completely and hopelessly in love with her.’
Chloe’s eyes began to shimmer. She shook her head gently, her hand pressed against her breastbone.
‘Yes,’ he said, starting to smile, willing her to join him. ‘I love you, Chloe.’
And then he shoved the microphone out of the way, stepped forward and kissed her. The room, which had descended into a thick silence as soon as he’d begun to talk, suddenly erupted into cheers and applause. There was a gentle tapping on his shoulder, but he ignored it, because Chloe was kissing him back, kissing him so softly and sweetly that he finally had no doubt that she felt the same way.
But the tapping continued and he dragged himself away from Chloe’s lips. ‘What?’ he said gruffly. ‘Can’t you see I’m busy?’
That earned him
a laugh. Even Chloe chuckled. He was funny. Who knew?
Melissa Morgan was grinning at him, but her grin had an edge of something else in it too. ‘I can see that,’ she said, laughing softly, but Daniel was close enough to see the calculating glint in her eye. ‘But I thought I might repeat my earlier question …’
She looked between Chloe and Daniel, blinked slowly, and then positioned the microphone in Daniel’s direction. ‘So … is there a Valentine’s message you’d like to deliver?’
The meaning behind her words hit him like a lightning bolt. He knew what she was asking, what she was pushing for … the Valentine’s story to top all other Valentine’s stories this year. And he also knew it was the one way he could convince Chloe he was serious about this, serious about her …
He made a nod so minuscule that only the reporter saw it. One corner of her mouth hiked up in a knowing smile, and she stepped back a little, still holding the microphone out.
Daniel swallowed. Nerves hit him in a wave of nausea, but he knew he had to do this, knew now that he wanted it more than anything. Maybe that was why he’d been running so hard in the other direction all year.
It was now or never. The six-headed monster needed to be slain once and for all, and hadn’t he always said he was the hunter, not the prey?
He took Chloe’s fingers, lifted them in his own and covered them with his other hand, then he slid one foot back and let both knees bend, one up in front of the other. The crowd around them gasped.
He looked into Chloe’s face and realised he couldn’t tell what she was thinking. A moment ago, she’d been smiling blissfully, but now her features had frozen and she was blinking rapidly.
He took a deep breath. ‘I love you,’ he said again, and saw her nod, just slightly, and he knew she believed him. That made the next bit a little easier. ‘I know I’m the biggest idiot in the universe …’ he saw a glimmer of something in her eyes that just might have been humour and that spurred him on ‘… and I don’t deserve another chance, but I can’t go without proving how serious I am.’ He took in a deep breath. ‘Chloe Michaels, will you marry me?’