by Jane Linfoot
‘I take it you didn’t…?’ Cressy sent her an airy glance, which morphed to a grimace. ‘I knew you’d have spilled the beans the minute you did. Not sure what we’re going to do with you – how anyone could keep their hands off a dime like Jackson Gale, I have no idea.’
‘Dime?’ Too little sleep to work out Cressy’s man-slang, but Bryony couldn’t believe she was getting away with it this easily.
‘Dime as in ten… Ten out of ten, geddit?’ She gave a wicked chortle. ‘Anyway, that was the good news, the not-so-good stuff had to wait ’til we were face to face.’ Cressy banged her knuckles together, narrowed her eyes. ‘Brace yourself, turn up your sense of humour and I’m sure it won’t seem so bad.’
‘What are you talking about, Cressy?’ Had energy drink overdose finally turned Cressy’s brain to mush?
‘You and Jackson – there’s a film clip that’s gone viral.’ Cressy tossed it out onto the table like a grenade, and left it to explode all on its own.
Film clip? As the words ricocheted around Bryony’s head, she felt the blood drain from her face as her intestines disintegrated. ‘Holy crap.’ She gulped wildly. Her going down on Jackson on that empty beach. How would either of them ever live that down?
‘Hey, “holy crap” is Jackson’s saying.’ Cressy’s whoop somehow didn’t match the gravity of the situation. ‘Ten days together, and you’re talking like him! Don’t worry, the clip’s not that big a deal; in fact, if you can find it in your heart to overlook the humiliation, it’s awesome publicity for the show.’
So that ruled out the beach scene. As the banging in her chest subsided, Bryony began to breathe again. ‘What is it then?’
‘It’s a phenomenal clip featuring you and JG.’ Cressy sent her a rueful grin. ‘And it’s already had three million views.’
Bryony’s voice soared. ‘You have to be joking?’
‘Nope. You screaming your head off, flying downhill on the tandem. Classic YouTube. The motorbike cameraman was alongside you all the way down, filming. It’s hysterical.’
‘Phew. That could have been a whole lot worse.’ And how much worse. Bryony shuddered at the thought, simultaneously realising she shouldn’t have let those particular words go. Hopefully, Cressy wouldn’t pick up on it. ‘But how did it get out? Jackson’s the only one to have had access to the film of the race, so anything up there on YouTube has to have come from there.’ Bryony’s chest tightened. ‘I’ll kill him when I get my hands on him.’
‘To be fair, I think Dan and Jackson were playing it back, and some other guy who was round took a clip of the TV on his phone. Jackson probably didn’t even know.’
‘Even so, they had responsibilities, and they’ve failed to measure up to them.’ As the relief was replaced by indignation Bryony stiffened.
‘Try not to be too offended.’ Cressy patted her shoulder. ‘You’ll laugh when you see it, and it’ll send the ratings through the roof. It’ll be a great career hike for your presenting.’
‘Oh my. I need a sugar boost.’ Bryony pushed away a pile of papers, sank onto the desk. Took a swig of drink, and shuddered as the liquid hit her stomach. ‘I don’t know how you drink this stuff, it makes me feel green.’
‘Don’t move. Five minutes, and I’ll be back with cupcake supplies.’
‘Cupcakes?’ Brrrrr. She shivered, made an effort to yank her cringe into a grin. ‘Great. Perfect. Brilliant.’ For the first time in her life it felt like cupcakes weren’t going to hit the spot.
‘Well, what have we here? Flowers for Ms Marshall. Could this be Mr Gale, grovelling?’
Bryony looked up from her computer screen the next afternoon to see Cressy staggering across the office peering out from behind an explosion of cellophane and ribbon.
‘It’ll take more than a few roses, after the way he just dismissed it on the phone.’
It had taken her until lunchtime today to finally nail Jackson, by which time she was hopping mad. But the way he’d quietly taken full responsibility, apologised quietly, then left the line, had caught her right off guard.
‘There’s a card, look at the card.’ Cressy balanced the massive display carefully on the desk, then began jumping from foot to foot.
‘Wow.’ Bryony sat back in her seat, and gritted her teeth. ‘They’re gorgeous, even though I don’t want them to be. I’m still cross though.’ And all white to go with her white apartment. Unnerving how Jackson knew her favourite colour flowers.
‘Yeah, sure.’ Cressy wiggled her eyebrows. ‘But you’re not half so cross as you were two minutes ago. Right? That’s how flowers work as every tuned-in guy knows.’ She flipped the envelope in front of Bryony. ‘Okay, see what he has to say for himself.’
‘Probably one of his assistants who sent them.’ If it did happen to be Jackson, and he’d written anything relating to the last two weeks, she was dead in the water. She’d brazen that one out when it happened, and dammit that her heart was pounding in anticipation. She slid her finger along the envelope edge, pulled out the card. ‘There, what did I tell you? “Sincerest apologies, Jackson”.’ She slipped it down on the desk with a sigh. Why the heck did she want it to say any more? Totally ridiculous that she had the urge to pick it up and drink in the smell of it, simply to see if she could get one last blast of Jackson’s scent, when he hadn’t even touched the damned thing.
‘Sea-shells and sand. Ubiquitous.’ Cressy propped the card on the desk, had the envelope halfway to the bin. ‘Holy crap, as Jackson would say, there’s something else in here. Woohooo, lucky we didn’t miss this.’ Her face lit up jubilantly, as she flapped a flat card through the air. ‘Ms Marshall, I think you just hit lucky. He must be feeling guilty. He’s only inviting you as his plus-one to the Lottery Sports Awards Gala Celebration in Manchester. Haven’t we all been dying to get in on that one?’
‘I’ll be far too busy to go.’ Bryony gave a disinterested shrug. The thought of going anywhere as Jackson’s plus-one was out of the question, let alone to an event as prestigious as this one. In fact, given how jittery she’d been feeling being home alone, the less she saw of him the better. She’d spent the whole of yesterday evening curled up on her bed, drinking cocoa, feeling like her apartment was way too large for one person. Her metaphorical box of chocolates was empty, and she needed to get used to life without. As an independent woman who didn’t ever intend relying on a guy, she was completely disgusted with herself. Served her right for going there in the first place.
‘Bryony Marshall, cut the crap. If I have to personally drag you to this function by your hair, I shall.’ Cressy was wagging a finger at her now.
Bryony stood, drew herself up to her full height and glowered down at the diminutive Cressy. ‘Good luck with that one.’ Her insides twisted with guilt. No way should Cressy be getting it in the neck, just because she herself was all screwed up about missing a guy. ‘I’ve spent the last couple of weeks placating Jackson Gale. I refuse point blank to do it any more.’
‘We’ll see about that.’ Cressy gave a snort. ‘You may be taller than me Bryony but remember, the strongest poison comes in little bottles. We’ll talk about this later.’
‘Fine.’ Bryony tossed her head just to show she meant it, but it wasn’t fine. Nothing at all was fine. It used to be fine, but now she’d messed up, big time, and from the stony feeling in her stomach, she doubted if anything would ever be okay again.
‘Cherry!’
Two evening’s later, Bryony, snoozing on her bed, made a grab for her vibrating mobile, and almost dropped it again when she heard Jackson’s dark-chocolate voice.
‘Jackson.’ She pushed up on her elbow and rubbed her eyes, drew a deep breath to steady her voice. ‘What can I do for you?’
There was a long pause. No need for him to say anything, they both knew what he was thinking. His voice in her head, all laid-back and sexy, said it all on its own. ‘I can think of a few things…’ And damn that she walked into that one.
She jumped in to fill the g
ap. ‘I hope your secretary passed on my message thanking you for the flowers.’
‘That wasn’t my secretary, that was Phoebe – Dan’s wife.’ He sniffed, hesitated. ‘You still cross, princess?’
She pursed her lips. No way was she going there.
‘I’ll take that as a big fat “yes” then.’ She heard the lazy half smile stretch across his face, gritted her teeth at the thought of the creases she knew would be slicing down his cheeks. ‘Are you busy, Cherry?’
Damn the way his quietly spoken hope made her insides twist. ‘Up to my eyes.’ True, she had a mountain of work to catch up on in the office. At home, despite the fact she’d been crashed out on the bed, she hadn’t even unpacked properly yet. She stared at the pile of washing on the floor, and gave an inward grimace. What the hell was wrong with her? Since she got back all she’d done was wander around aimlessly or sleep.
‘Cherry…’ Another long pause.
She rolled her eyes. ‘What?’
‘Would you…do you have time…to talk, maybe?’
She tried to ignore that her chest was tightening.
‘I told you I’m busy, Jackson.’ She tried to keep her tone distant, yet firm. She was already aching because he wasn’t here. No way was she going to make things worse by prolonging the agony. There was something about aching twist in her chest that flipped her all the way back to when she was six, and her dad had left.
‘I’m sorry…’ His voice drifted off again. ‘Cherry?’ One more silence, then his voice, low and grating sent her heart into free-fall. ‘I miss you…’
Oh my. She dragged air into her lungs. He couldn’t be saying this. Much less with so much need in his voice. Then her heart gave a kick and began to beat double speed. ‘I really do have to go…’ She hated herself for cutting him off, but she’d already veered way out of her comfort zone. It was time to claw herself back on course. Self-preservation was making her slam the door on him. If she hadn’t cared, she could have chatted for England. As it was she couldn’t say a thing.
‘Sorry, Jackson.’ The last word she almost whispered. ‘Bye.’
Chapter 35
When it came to time to filming, the first class preparation Bryony had done paid dividends, and when word had come through from Dan that Jackson had two free days, Bryony had pulled out all the stops. On the day she had a cracking crew on the ground, and like a true pro, she’d even managed to get Jackson’s camper along for added atmosphere, although when it came to it she had to work double hard to block out the images of the morning after they’d broken down. As for facing Jackson, she’d done everything in her power to make sure she kept her distance, and it seemed to be working. However gut-wrenching it was.
‘What the heck did you do to Jackson?’ Cressy gave Bryony’s cycle helmet a nudge and gave her hair a flick, as they finally had a minute to themselves in the late afternoon. ‘His grin’s gone AWOL, you’re acting like an ice machine on fast, doing double-snarky, and he’s not even fighting back.’
‘I haven’t done anything to Jackson.’ So not true. Bryony gave a covering snort, tried to seem indignant. ‘Maybe my new Lycra doesn’t make me look like I’m bursting out of a double-G cup, so there’s less for him to perv on?’ And oh, what a bitch she felt saying that, when Jackson’s behaviour was nothing short of impeccable. He’d come towards her, all tentative and gentle, and she’d blasted him with one dry-ice smile that was out before she knew and froze him to the spot. As for the slash of puzzled hurt in his eyes – best for her not to go there. She had to remember this wasn’t about power any more, nor about winners and losers; it was simply about self-protection. After that he’d taken his lead from her. She wrinkled her nose as Cressy brushed a last stroke of blusher across her cheeks. ‘Although, the jacket seems much tighter than it did when I bought it last week.’
‘That’s Lycra for you.’ Cressy sent her a sympathetic smirk. ‘From where I’m standing, he’s still looking at you like he wants to eat you.’
‘Rubbish.’ No idea when Cressy had found her chance to see that, given Bryony was doing her damnedest to stay as far away from Jackson as she could. She’d worked late into the night to be sure she’d rearranged all the interview locations to make good use of props, to keep maximum distance between herself and Jackson. Him sitting on the bike, her sitting on a wall. Jackson driving the camper van with the window down, her standing outside. And for the shots on the tandem, she arrived right at the last moment, bundled herself onto the bike once he was in position, so all she had to contend with was a view of his back.
‘You should so get in there.’ Cressy on repeat again.
‘For the last time, I wouldn’t touch him with a bargepole.’ Bryony winced at her own blurted protest. Maybe she was being excessive, but she needed to keep Cressy in check somehow, and a tiny part of her knew this was her sensible-self trying to make a point to the part of her that was hurting like hell. Been there, done that, got the scars, and a heart that ached like it had been trampled by an army. How could she have been so stupid to think she could handle even a short term taste? ‘Plus there’s the small matter of the three million views of the viral film, which should never have been leaked. That’s down to him, I’m the one who comes out of that looking like a fool, and I flatly refuse to overlook it.’ And thank Christmas for that excuse.
‘Five million, not three; it goes up every day.’ Cressy’s eyes lit up momentarily, the she went back to chewing her lip. ‘Well, at least try to cut him some slack, Bry. The producers were sold on the heat between you two. Now every time there’s a spark you extinguish it faster than the New York Fire Brigade and that isn’t making for great TV. If you want to pursue the presenter thing, you’re going to have to do better than this.’
A whole crew to hide behind, a schedule without a minute to spare. No idea seeing Jackson face-to-face would be this hard, even if every time he looked her way now he was glowering. She’d thrown up her barricades, but every time she saw his jaw clench she felt like she was going to cry.
‘Okay. Point taken.’ Bryony gritted her teeth, dug deep to find a compliant smile. ‘I’ll promise to try for fun and flirty.’ Fun and flirty? She had to be mad. She gave a shiver as she thought exactly where that had landed her before.
Friday, two weeks later, and Bryony couldn’t help remembering that this was the day of the Sports Gala Night, even though she’d spent all day stuck on a hillside, battling in the wind, filming a rock-climbing feature. All carefully scheduled, as far away from Manchester as she could be.
‘Who’d have thought it could be this cold in July?’ She shivered inside her parka hood, as she stumbled along the track to the car park at the end of a long afternoon, weighed down by the last of the bags.
‘Who’d have thought we’d ever see you throwing off your heels, and opting to do a shoot of people dangling on ropes in the middle of a moor?’ Cressy, in front, threw a glance over her shoulder. ‘Or that I’d get dragged along too.’
‘You didn’t have to come.’ This was her way of coping with her problem. Why Cressy had insisted on tagging along too, she had no idea.
‘But I did have to come. Who else was going to make sure you made it to Manchester in time for tonight’s Gala bash?’
‘Which I’m patently not going to, given that we’re hours away.’ Bryony flipped out a triumphant smile. ‘I’m totally safe.’
Cressy threw her bags down beside the van, checked her watch, then looked up, and scoured the sky. ‘I know you’ve technically given up hijacking Brando’s helicopter, but he was happy to oblige and help his little sister today, given the importance of the occasion. Bryony Marshall will go to the ball, and if I’m not mistaken her transport is about to arrive!’
Jackson had no idea why Cressy was hell-bent on delivering Bryony in time for the Gala, but who was he to grumble. Though what the hell was going on there was beyond him. Putting Bryony down as clingy? He couldn’t have been more wrong. Her walls had gone up, and there was no way in for
him. He suspected the viral clip was a red herring, not that he’d got close enough to discuss it. He’d taken full responsibility for the clip, even though he hadn’t even been there when it was taken, but insisting on the truth risked looking like he was trying to wriggle out of it, and no way did he want to give Bryony that impression.
Every time he’d tried to phone her she answered but then strangled the call, and in some ways her distant, clipped politeness was worse than no reply at all. His hopes for breaking through at the filming had been dashed immediately when it became obvious she’d planned her avoidance with military precision, and he’d headed off to train with nothing resolved, with his mind anywhere but on the job. For the whole of his life, cycling had been his escape, his obsession, his whole existence, and suddenly finding that he wasn’t able to concentrate on it was as shocking as it was unnerving. A woman under his skin? This one was had taken over his whole being, and he couldn’t get her out. Meanwhile, in the background, for some unknown reason, Cressy had been working her butt off to get Princess Cherry to the Gala Ball, and it had to be for more than the free press pass that he’d managed to wrangle for her.
And now he was back in Manchester, but as for how tonight was going to pan out, that was anyone’s guess. One thing though was certain – you couldn’t leave a fire half-burned. As far as he and Cherry were concerned, business was very much unfinished, and he was going to go all out to make her see that.
He’d flown back in from training at the team base in Portugal in the late afternoon, only to find a full photo-shoot waiting for him at the main house. Black lingerie central. A posse of women, draped around the elegant bannisters, wearing – ahem – very little. Once he’d have been delighted with the overdose of stocking tops; today he was less than. Thank you, Dan. Not.