Hidden Love

by Carole Mortimer

  ‘I don’t want to make a habit of this,’ he murmured against her mouth, his eyes stormy.

  ‘Of what?’ she asked breathlessly.

  ‘Making love to you in my car,’ he smiled. ‘It’s too confining. And too damned public,’ he scowled as a man walking his dog peered in the window at them.

  ‘Would you like to come in for coffee?’ Rachel offered to cover her embarrassment.

  ‘Will your parents still be up?’

  She looked at her watch. ‘Ten-thirty. No, they should be in bed by now. They usually watch the news and then go up.’

  Nick grinned, already opening his car door. ‘Then I’d love a cup of coffee!’

  He came round to open her door for her, and Rachel absently noted how the street-lamps made his hair look almost silver.

  He seemed overpowering once they were inside the house, and he made no effort to pretend he was really interested in coffee, sweeping her into his arms, her body curved into his as his mouth tasted hers, biting enticingly on her bottom lip before his mouth strayed across her cheek and down to her throat.

  ‘Rachel,’ he groaned. ‘Rachel, I—’

  ‘Is that you, dear?’ The lounge light was suddenly switched on and her embarrassed mother stood in the doorway in her dressing-gown, her hair in rollers, her face bare of make-up. ‘Oh, I—I’m so sorry,’ she said in a flustered voice. ‘I didn’t realise you had Mr St Clare with you, Rachel.’

  Nick moved away from Rachel with an assurance she could only admire, smoothing his golden hair. ‘Please excuse us, Mrs James. After all, it’s your lounge.’

  ‘Yes, but I—Don’t be long, dear. Goodnight, Mr St Clare,’ and her mother made a hasty exit.

  ‘Whoops!’ Nick chuckled. ‘You don’t usually make love with your men friends in your parents’ home, I take it?’

  ‘No,’ Rachel choked, as embarrassed as her mother had been.

  ‘And you would rather she hadn’t seen us together this time?’ His hands were linked loosely about her waist as he looked down at her.

  ‘Yes,’ she admitted miserably.

  ‘I’ll go now, and you can go upstairs and explain to her that it was just a harmless kiss.’ He released her. ‘The next time I make love to you I’ll make sure we aren’t going to be interrupted.’

  The next time…?

  ‘I’ll look out for you tomorrow.’ He gently touched her cheek.

  ‘Good luck,’ Rachel said shyly.

  He grimaced. ‘I have an idea I’m going to need it.’

  Her mother and father were reading in bed when she got upstairs, her hair combed back into neatness after Nick had run his fingers through it.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Rachel,’ her mother put her book down. ‘I just didn’t realise…’

  ‘That’s all right, Mum,’ she blushed.

  ‘Have a nice evening, dear?’ her father asked vaguely.

  ‘Er—very nice.’ She shot a questioning look at her mother, who gently shook her head. At least her father didn’t know of the embarrassing scene her mother had interrupted! ‘Mr St Clare has invited me to watch him play tomorrow,’ she told them excitedly, her embarrassment forgotten in her pleasure.

  Her mother frowned. ‘But surely that’s in the afternoon?’

  ‘It won’t hurt to miss one afternoon of college, Mum. I may never get another chance like this,’ Rachel added pleadingly.

  ‘I suppose not, dear…’

  ‘He’ll be leaving town again soon,’ she pushed home her point, ‘so I don’t have many more chances to see him. Oh, do say yes, Mum!’

  ‘All right, Rachel,’ her mother nodded after several minutes. ‘Maybe I’ll even see you on television, hmm?’ she teased gently, to ease Rachel’s tension.

  ‘Maybe,’ Rachel nodded eagerly.

  She hardly slept because she was so excited. She was actually going to be Nick St Clare’s personal guest, was going to sit with his coach. Everyone would realise why she was there. Oh, she had never felt so nervous in her life before!

  Hilary was very contrite for her gossiping the next day, although she spoilt her apology by adding. ‘But it taught Danny a lesson.’ She smiled her pleasure. ‘You should have seen his face when you drove off with Nick St Clare!’

  ‘You should have seen mine!’ Rachel giggled.

  ‘I did,’ Hilary laughed. ‘I must have been mad to have refused the lift when it was offered,’ she groaned.

  ‘I knew you’d regret it.’

  ‘The moment I said it!’

  ‘That’s what I thought,’ Rachel nodded.

  ‘And now you’re actually going to watch him play,’ Hilary said enviously.

  Rachel looked at her watch. ‘And I’d better get going, otherwise I’ll be late.’

  ‘Danny’s going to be green when he hears about this,’ her friend said with glee.

  Rachel raised her eyebrows. ‘He isn’t going to hear about it—is he?’ she warned.

  ‘Not from me,’ Hilary feigned innocence. ‘He could just see you on television, you know.’

  ‘Oh lord, yes,’ she groaned. ‘I hope not.’

  ‘I hope so,’ Hilary protested. ‘I’m going home right now and switch on the television on the basis of that.’

  ‘But what about your classes?’

  ‘What about yours?’ Hilary returned cheekily.

  Indeed, what about hers? She didn’t even give them a second thought as she made her way to Wimbledon. Today she was wearing black fitted trousers and a white high-necked silk blouse, her long hair clean and shiny. Nick wasn’t going to be ashamed of the way she looked.

  Wimbledon Was a hive of activity, people milling everywhere, and as she stood at the gate she felt sure Nick must have forgotten all about inviting her. He would have so much else on his mind today, he could easily have forgotten.

  ‘Miss James?’

  She turned eagerly at the sound of that brittle female voice. Nick had remembered after all, had sent someone to meet her.

  But the woman in front of her wasn’t what she had been expecting; she was a tall slender blonde of about twenty-five, with one of the most beautiful faces Rachel had ever seen. Deep blue eyes, a short straight nose, a plum-coloured lip-gloss emphasising the perfection of her pouting mouth, hair almost the same gold as Nick’s, waving loosely to her shoulders, the brown dress she wore drawing attention to the fullness of her breasts, the slimness of her waist, her gently curving thighs and long slender legs, had to make her one of the sexiest-looking women Rachel had ever seen too.

  The woman looked like a fashion model, and whoever she was Rachel felt sure there had been some sort of mistake. Nick couldn’t possibly have asked this woman to meet her.

  ‘Miss James?’ she repeated irritably as Rachel continued to stare at her.

  ‘I—er—Yes,’ she answered dazedly. ‘But I don’t think—’

  The woman was looking her over speculatively, obviously not listening to her. ‘I must say you aren’t quite what I’d been expecting,’ she drawled.

  ‘I’m not?’ She swallowed hard, clutching her handbag to her.

  ‘No,’ the girl’s mouth twisted. ‘When Nick told me he’d promised one of his little fans a ringside seat, and that you needed to be met, I naturally assumed you would be—younger, more of a child.’

  She had made an enemy of this woman, and she didn’t even know why! ‘Maybe that’s how Nick thinks of me,’ she said dully, wondering if that could be true.

  ‘I’m sure it is,’ the other girl nodded coolly. ‘He said he owed you a favour for helping his sister out.’

  Why did the afternoon suddenly look so gloomy—even though it was bright sunshine! For once Wimbledon had remained mainly rain-free, most of the matches being played on time. ‘Yes,’ she acknowledged dully.

  ‘We’d better get going.’ The girl looked impatiently at her slender gold wrist-watch. ‘The match will be starting in a moment. I’m Suzy Freeman, by the way,’ and she turned and began walking quickly in the direction of
Centre Court.

  Rachel followed—mainly because she knew it was expected of her. This was Suzy Freeman, Nick’s coach’s daughter, the girl Nick had dismissed as if she were no more than a schoolgirl. Maybe that was how he thought of both of them?

  She looked at the way Suzy Freeman walked, deliberately swinging her hips, and knew that no man could think of her as a child, not even a man who had known her since she ‘wore braces on her teeth’.

  The players were already on court warming up when she and Suzy Freeman took their seats, although Sam Freeman leant forward in his seat and said a few words of welcome to her, obviously tense as he waited for the match to begin.

  Rachel had first taken a serious interest in tennis about two years ago, when she had been off school at the time of Wimbledon with ‘flu, watching the tennis on television because she felt too awful to do anything else. By the time she went back to school ‘flu wasn’t the only bug she had caught. She had even taken up tennis herself after that, and could put in quite a good amateur game.

  But the two men on court were anything but amateurs, both strong players, and both determined to win. It looked like being a tough match, for both men, and the air on the Centre Court seemed to crackle with the tension of it.

  Nick was totally immersed in the game ahead, looking to neither left nor right as he concentrated on practising his serve. A hush fell over the court as they were signalled to begin playing.

  For the next three hours Rachel sat on the edge of her seat, each point fought over, each game fought for, until at the end of two hours each player had two sets, the fifth and deciding set going to a tie-breaker—which Paul Shepley won!

  Tears came into her eyes as she saw the look of disappointment on Nick’s face as he lost that last vital point, although it was quickly masked as he moved forward to congratulate his opponent.

  ‘Oh dear,’ Suzy sighed as her father pushed past them on his way to meet Nick. ‘Now the fun’s going to start!’

  ‘Surely it’s over?’ Rachel said dejectedly, disappointed on Nick’s behalf. He had played so well, so calmly for him, and he should have won. But it was no good saying that, he hadn’t won, and he must be feeling awful at this moment.

  ‘Oh no,’ Suzy’s mouth twisted as the two of them filed out. ‘Now comes the post-mortem on why Nick lost.’

  ‘But he could so easily have won—’

  ‘Yes, which is why my father will want to know why he didn’t. Believe me, they’ll spend hours going over what was done and what should have been done.’

  ‘Nick did all he could,’ Rachel defended.

  ‘But he didn’t win. And Dad will want to know why.’

  Rachel looked down at her hands. ‘Does that mean I won’t be able to see Nick?’ she asked quietly.

  ‘Did he say you would?’ Suzy raised her eyebrows.

  ‘Well…no. But I—I assumed—’

  The other girl shrugged. ‘Nick gave me the impression he’d just asked you to the match, he made no mention of seeing you later.’

  Rachel looked frustratedly at Suzy Freeman. Nick hadn’t mentioned seeing her after the match, so maybe he hadn’t intended to. Could it possibly be that she had thrown his gratitude for helping his sister out of all proportion?

  ‘Besides,’ Suzy added throatily, ‘Nick and I usually go out alone after a match, either to console or congratulate him.’ She looked Rachel over scathingly. ‘I doubt you could—console him, in the same way.’

  Colour flooded Rachel’s cheeks as the implication of the other girl’s words hit her. Nick and Suzy…? But why not, Suzy was more his age, more than shared his interest in tennis. And she was beautiful.

  ‘Thank you for looking after me this afternoon, Miss Freeman—’

  ‘Suzy, please,’ she invited graciously.

  ‘Suzy,’ Rachel said jerkily. ‘I’ve appreciated it,’ she fidgeted nervously with the strap of her handbag. ‘Er—I’ll go now.’

  ‘I’m glad you’ve enjoyed yourself.’ The other girl was all sweetness now. ‘I’m sorry Nick didn’t win.’

  ‘So am I. Tell him that, will you?’

  ‘Of course,’ Suzy smiled. ‘Well, I’d better go and save Nick from my father. He can be a bit of a bear when he loses.’

  ‘Nick or your father?’

  ‘Both,’ Suzy laughed huskily. ‘I usually act as referee.’

  ‘Then I won’t keep you,’ Rachel told her brittlely. ‘Goodbye.’

  ‘Goodbye, Rachel. And I’ll give Nick your condolences.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She turned and walked away, hoping against hope that she would make it to the exit before she began crying.

  She was soon swallowed up in the rest of the crowd leaving the grounds, almost running by the time she got outside.

  But What had she expected? Nick’s invitation to watch him play had been casually given, and although she might not have accepted it in the same way he wasn’t to know that.

  ‘You’re home early, love,’ her mother said in surprise as Rachel let herself into the house. ‘I somehow didn’t expect you home for dinner.’ She added an extra chop to the grill.

  Rachel put her handbag down on a worktop. ‘You saw the match?’

  ‘Yes,’ her mother said sympathetically. ‘I don’t suppose Mr St Clare felt much like company after that.’

  It depended what sort of ‘company’ it was! ‘No,’ Rachel agreed dully.

  ‘Dinner’s nearly ready,’ her mother turned the chops over. ‘I should go and get washed.’

  ‘Yes, Mum.’ Rachel went obediently up the stairs, not really having an appetite for dinner but knowing her mother wouldn’t understand if she refused it.

  ‘I’ve knitted this matinee coat for Mrs Lennox’s little girl,’ her mother told her after the meal, holding up the pretty pink woollen garment. ‘Do you think she’ll like it?’

  ‘Oh, Mum, it’s beautiful!’ Rachel took the delicate article of clothing into her own hands, marvelling at its perfection. ‘It’s really lovely,’ she added softly. ‘But when did you knit it?’

  ‘I started it last night and finished it off while I watched the tennis today.’ Her mother was flushed with pleasure. ‘It doesn’t take long to make something as small as that.’

  ‘Small as it is, I still think it will be a little on the large side for Eve Rachel. Did I tell you that was the name they had decided on?’ Rachel had been thrilled that the baby’s second name was to be her own.

  ‘I think I saw it on the card Mr Lennox sent with the flowers,’ her mother nodded. ‘We saw you on television this afternoon, by the way.’

  Rachel’s eyes widened. ‘You did?’ She hadn’t been aware of a television camera being on her.

  ‘Mm,’ her mother nodded excitedly. ‘A couple of times the camera went to Mr St Clare’s coach, and you were sitting quite close to him, weren’t you?’

  ‘Mm,’ she nodded, still touching the softness of the little pink jacket.

  ‘Who was the girl sitting between you?’ her mother asked casually.

  Rachel concentrated on putting the cardigan back in its paper bag. ‘Oh, that was Mr Freeman’s daughter Suzy.’

  ‘Mr St Clare’s coach?’

  ‘Yes,’ she nodded, deliberately not looking at her mother.

  ‘She’s very pretty.’

  ‘Yes. Do you think it’s too late to take this jacket to the hospital now?’ Rachel changed the subject, not wanting to remember how beautiful Suzy Freeman was.

  Her mother frowned. ‘I’m sure it isn’t. But—’

  ‘Then I think I’ll take it over,’ she stood up decisively. ‘I shouldn’t be long.’

  ‘But, Rachel—’

  ‘Yes?’ She turned at the door.

  ‘Nothing,’ her mother shrugged. ‘Don’t be late, dear, you have college tomorrow.’

  It didn’t take long to reach the hospital, and the bus she travelled on was almost empty, most of the windows open in the heat of the evening. A young girl on the reception desk directed h
er to Kay Lennox’s room, and she knocked tentatively on the door. To her surprise the door was opened by a rather serious-looking man of about thirty, his dark hair short, his three-piece suit very formal.

  ‘Rachel!’ Key Lennox cried her recognition. ‘Don’t keep Rachel standing at the door, Richard,’ she told the man impatiently.

  Richard Lennox wasn’t at all what she had been expecting; he looked rather serious compared to his wife’s bubbly personality. But then they said opposites attracted, and in this case it seemed to be true.

  ‘Thank your mother so much for me,’ Kay said warmly when she had unwrapped the matinee coat and the introductions had been made.

  ‘I thought it might be a little big,’ she frowned.

  ‘The way that young lady is eating she’ll soon grow into it!’ Richard Lennox showed that his serious nature hid a lighter side.

  ‘Here, have a cuddle,’ Kay thrust the baby at her.

  Rachel took the tiny bundle nervously into her arms, finding a pair of huge blue eyes looking vaguely up at her; the baby was too young to focus yet.

  ‘She won’t break,’ Kay grinned. ‘I treated her like porcelain the first day, was almost afraid of her—’

  ‘And now she throws her about like she’s a sack of coal,’ added a mocking voice.

  ‘Nick!’ Kay cried excitedly.

  Rachel turned in time to see him coming fully inside the room and closing the door behind him, his denims and shirt very casual, lines of weariness about his eyes and mouth.

  ‘Rachel,’ he nodded to her distantly.

  She swallowed hard. ‘Nick.’ Her voice was husky.

  ‘What happened to you this afternoon?’ Kay tactlessly asked her brother. ‘I really thought you had him.’

  ‘So did I,’ Nick grimaced, no longer looking at Rachel—in fact, he was ignoring her. ‘But I had a few minutes’ lack of concentration and—well, he took advantage of it.’

  ‘Maybe next year,’ Richard encouraged.

  Nick shrugged. ‘I doubt there will be a next year.’

  ‘You aren’t talking about retirement again?’ his sister scorned.

  Rachel was aware of being in on an intimate fammily discussion, and she walked over to the window, staring out at the busy road at the side of the hospital. Although she tried not to listen, talking softly to the baby, she could still hear the conversation going on behind her.