Izzy’s heart sank. ‘Is it really necessary?’
He hesitated. It was more eloquent than words.
‘Do I have to keep it secret from everyone?’ She felt as if she were going down without a life belt.
‘It would make her feel safe,’ he said unanswerably. ‘I think it’s the only thing that will.’
Izzy gave in. ‘Okay. Just the weekend then.’
‘Do whatever makes you feel comfortable. Except…’ He hesitated, looking faintly awkward.
Izzy sighed. ‘Go on—spit it out. What else don’t you want me to do?’
He gave her an apologetic smile. ‘Don’t take over. But don’t pressurise her to pull herself together either. She may sound fine when she wakes up. But she’s still precarious.’
Izzy nodded glumly. ‘I’ll be a pussycat, I promise.
So she sat with Jemima until her sister’s eyelids fluttered open.
‘Hi,’ said Izzy softly.
Jemima gave her a foggy smile. ‘Izzy. Knew you’d come.’
She was still woozy. Izzy decided that the best thing to do was to chat as normally as possible. So she talked to Jemima about the crazy clothes her stylist liked, the novels she’d read in the last week, the bungee jump.
And then— ‘They added on a co-star, too.’
Jemima was sitting up, sipping mineral water. ‘What do you mean?’
Izzy watched her carefully. ‘We jumped hand in hand. An old friend of yours, I’m told. Hunk called Dominic Templeton-Burke.’
Jemima suddenly looked a lot less woozy. ‘Hey-hey! The love interest. Cool.’
Great, thought Izzy. So it was true: lovers! Just as she had feared. She had every right to be very cross with Jemima.
She said crisply, ‘It would have been nice to know about him. Couldn’t you have brought him to the flat for tea or something?’
Jemima was blind to disapproval. She laughed. ‘You sweet old-fashioned thing, you. Do you seriously think Dom is the kind of guy to do tea with the family?’
Izzy glared.
‘Get real,’ advised Jemima blithely, going off into a little daze. There was a reminiscent half-smile on her face that made Izzy want to slap her.
She sprang up, horrified.
‘Well, it was very difficult. I didn’t know you—er—knew him. I had to play it by ear.’
Jemima came back to the present with a little jerk. Her mouth tilted naughtily. ‘Bet that was fun.’
Izzy breathed hard. Of course it was great to see Jemima back to something like normal, she told herself. On the other hand, the urge to paste her sister to the wall and shake her till her teeth rattled was almost overwhelming.
‘It was—not—fun,’ she said between her teeth. ‘It was a minefield, if you want to know. And I’m not sure that I convinced him that I was you, either.’ She stopped in dudgeon. ‘What are you laughing at?’
Jemima was grinning broadly. ‘Dom too much man for you, huh?’
Izzy stiffened. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Well, face it, Izzy. You like your men a bit tame.’
Izzy was strongly tempted to say that was rich, coming from a woman who fell apart at the thought of sacking an abusive manager. She very nearly did. Only she’d promised the consultant that she would be a pussycat.
So she said with dignity, ‘What is wrong with my men?’
‘Nothing. They’re nice guys. Like poor old Adam, hanging on for you to go on the third date with him. Lets you walk all over him,’ said Jemima with a frankness that was, in the circumstances, deeply unfair.
Izzy was taken aback. ‘He didn’t. I didn’t. They don’t,’ she said, flustered.
‘Oh, yes, they do. In the nicest possible way, of course. Only you’re always so sure you know best. And most of the time you do. A walking magnet for men who are looking for someone else to make the decisions.’
Izzy blinked. ‘And I suppose your men are quite happy to take all their own decisions and yours, too?’ she said with irony.
Jemima looked like a cat that had got the cream. ‘Yup.’
‘No wonder Dominic Templeton-Burke was suspicious,’ muttered Izzy.
Jemima chuckled. ‘You’ll just have to try harder.’
‘What?’ Izzy stared, horrified. ‘Oh, no. Not that. No. You can’t expect me to do my Jemima Mark II performance for that man again.’
‘It’s easy,’ Jemima assured her. ‘Just keep looking at him. Don’t interrupt when he’s talking. Look impressed.’ She did a wide-eyed wondering look that made Izzy feel faintly ill. ‘Try it.’
Izzy was outraged. ‘Am I a Victorian virgin? Nobody simpers like that!’
Jemima raised her eyebrows. ‘No?’
‘You’re a disgrace.’ Izzy was only half joking. ‘Whatever happened to equality?’
‘Who wants equality? I’d much rather have a lovely macho man madly in love with me.’
‘And is Dominic madly in love with you?’ asked Izzy, before she could help herself.
Jemima gave a private smile that made Izzy look away suddenly. Maybe that was a question she didn’t want answered. ‘Never mind,’ she said hastily.
But Jemima was clearly in a mood to share. ‘All it takes is the right sort of look. Let me show you.’
To Izzy’s horrified fascination, she straightened herself against the pillow, tipped her head back and looked at the door lingeringly.
‘Stop it,’ said Izzy, flustered.
Jemima warmed to her theme. ‘It’s all in the body language. You look them straight in the eyes. Hold it for a moment, so they know you’re looking. Then look down at their feet. Then—slowly—let your eyes go back up to the face.’ She demonstrated. ‘They should be able to feel you looking.’
‘Not much doubt of that,’ said Izzy dryly. She was half appalled, half intrigued.
Jemima stopped languishing at the door and gave her sister a brisk smile. ‘There you are. If you bump into Dom again you can deal with him.’
Well, at least that didn’t sound as if Jemima was in love with the man, thought Izzy. Not permanently, anyway.
Aloud she said, ‘No. I’ve played all the games with Dominic Templeton-Burke that I can handle.’
But Jemima had one of her lightning mood changes. ‘But you’ve got to. I mean, if you happen to see him again. Izzy—you can’t let him know you’re not me.’
Two bright spots of colour appeared in her cheeks and her eyes were feverish. ‘Basil might find out. He uses the PR agency that Dom’s sister works for. They all talk to each other all the time. Please, Izzy.’
Izzy was not proof against the real alarm on her sister’s perfect features.
‘I’ll do my best,’ she said reluctantly.
Jemima opened her mouth.
‘But only until you get this thing sorted once and for all. I,’ she told Jemima with feeling, ‘have a life, too. And a job. And a pissed-off cousin who won’t be pleased if I don’t get back to it sharpish.’
Jemima’s face turned pinched.
‘The weekend,’ said Izzy firmly. ‘That’s how much time I’m willing to spend as Jemima Mark II. And absolutely no interface with Dominic Templeton-Burke. I’ll keep the wolves at bay as best I can. But some wolves are just out of my league.’
Jemima gave a watery chuckle. ‘What? Even after all my expert guidance?’
Izzy thought of that slow, sultry up and down look that Jemima specialised in. She shuddered.
‘Particularly after your expert guidance,’ she said with feeling. She stood up before she started to volunteer for more than she could handle ‘Don’t worry. I’ll keep well clear of the big bad wolf. And as far as everyone else is concerned I’m the face of Belinda with a head cold.’ She hugged Jemima. ‘Just look after yourself and get well. I’ll be in touch.’
Dom did not know what to do. He did not like it. Dom always knew what to do.
A responsible citizen would go Culp and Christopher—or to the Blane Model Agency—or to Je
mima Dare’s nearest and dearest, and say, Do you know that your girl is being impersonated by a skilful impostor?
A responsible citizen would not hesitate. A responsible citizen would not think the impostor was so gorgeous that she could not possibly mean any harm.
Lots of gorgeous women meant harm. Get real, Dom.
The real Jemima might have been kidnapped. Okay, the likely explanation was that she was in the Seychelles, or covered in a rash. But she might not be. She could be held against her will—anything.
No, the responsible citizen really had no choice. Out the impostor and let her take her punishment! It was the only thing to do.
But—but—
His lady in red did not feel like a kidnapper. There was something innately honest about her. Honest and brave and funny and vulnerable and—
And you want to get into her knickers, Dom told himself, half amused, half annoyed. Don’t dress it up to be something it isn’t. She’s a fox. You want her. Big deal. Doesn’t make any difference to the facts. She’s lying. The real Jemima Dare has gone missing. And you seem to be the only one who has noticed. You don’t have any choice here.
It was tough being a responsible citizen. Well, fairly responsible. He thought hard about what to do next and decided that if Culp and Christopher and her model agency hadn’t noticed that was their look-out. But her nearest and dearest—that was another thing altogether.
Two hours later he was sitting on Josh’s futuristic desk, trying—and failing—to juggle paperclips.
‘Jemima Dare’s boyfriend out of town?’ he asked, concentrating on a nicely weighted green plastic job that seemed to fall more predictably than the rest.
Josh shook his head. ‘No regular boyfriend. That’s why I got to do escort patrol.’ He sounded depressed.
Dom caught the green plastic paperclip neatly, missed the next two, caught the fourth and fifth.
‘Ah. So she lives alone.’
‘No. Shares a flat with a bunch of girls. One of them is that American tycoon woman. Pepper Calhoun. We may be doing some work on her shop—if we get the bid right.’
‘Interesting,’ said Dom, bored. But he was much too clever to ask for the address.
He let the man witter, and was rewarded by far more information than Josh had any idea of. Enough to narrow down the address to within three similar mansion blocks, anyway. Well satisfied, Dom went and bought a substantial bouquet and set off south of the river.
The owner of the first doorbell that he rang had no idea where to deliver flowers for Pepper Calhoun. The second response was more helpful. ‘End block, top floor, I think. Nice women. The name on the bell will be Dare, though. Not Calhoun.’
He went. It was.
Dom grinned. ‘God, I’m good,’ he said, for the second time that day.
He rang the bell. There was no answer. Well, he was not surprised. Pepper Calhoun worked, and worked hard by Josh’s account. She would be back later. He would come back this evening.
He gave the flowers to a woman in the park.
Keeping the wolves at bay from Jemima was just too damned easy, thought Izzy, trailing wearily up the stairs to the flat at last. It was Friday night and everyone at the model agency was on their way to a party. Not one of them cared what happened to Jemima Jane Dare. Just as long as she was back in harness for the next photo shoot!
Not for the first time, she wondered if her sister’s glamorous career was so great after all. At least in the office people noticed if you were ill.
She dumped her bag in her bedroom, kicked off her shoes and padded into the kitchen. Pepper was not in yet. Izzy found a bag of tacos and tore it open.
‘Oh, the freedom,’ she said with a mischievous smile. ‘Goodbye, designer food!’
She punched the button on the answering machine. The messages were a predictable bunch: her mother, to say that she and Dad were going away for a few days; Simon, an old boyfriend; Adam, still trying to fix up a date; a girls’ reunion from her last job. Then three for Pepper. Ten for Jemima.
‘Nothing urgent, thank God.’
Izzy took her bag of cheese and onion tacos out onto the balcony and leaned on the parapet. There was a fine heat haze over the roofs. It was going to be a perfect golden evening. Maybe she should call Adam and get him to take her out of the city, to dinner somewhere discreetly luxurious along the river. And get the dreaded third date out of the way.
She liked him. He wanted her. She was too young to give up men, too old to keep them on tenterhooks for ever. And Adam was a good person.
Except…Except…
Except she didn’t want to strip off his jungle gear and make him acknowledge that she was right. Except she couldn’t see his face when she closed her eyes. Except her body didn’t know him—not as it knew—
Izzy snapped her thoughts off right there. She swallowed.
But she could not get away from it. And she was honest enough to admit it. The truth was that when she kissed Adam they were like two adjacent buildings. They made a bridge but they didn’t fit.
But when Dominic took her in his arms she seemed to know his contours, to mirror them. They were like two continents that had broken apart, just waiting for time to drift them together. And when they were together they locked into a whole that she knew in her soul.
‘Stop it!’ Izzy said aloud, shocked.
But—Think about Dominic, prompted a little voice inside her head.
Izzy screwed up her face. ‘No, no, no,’ she yelled. Then more calmly, ‘That’s a complication I can really do without.’
Anyway, he was Nightmare Man. Or at least he wanted to be, with all that jungle camouflage gear and the Tarzan grip.
Yes, that was better. Think of him as one of the company of men she really, really tried to avoid. The macho guys with only one use for women. Like the one who had given her the nightmare in the first place.
In spite of the late summer warmth, Izzy shivered. It was a long time ago and she had dealt with it, she told herself. Dealt with it fine, too. There was no reason to let Dominic’s Rambo outfit bring the whole nasty business out from under its stone again.
Only—just every so often—it reached its fingers out of the past and touched her on the back of the neck like a ghost. That was when she froze—and decided that, just for tonight, she didn’t want to go out with Adam, or Simon, or any of the other nice men in her life, no matter how much she thought she trusted them. Just for that night all she wanted was to stay at home and not think about anything. And not be touched.
It looked as if tonight was going to be one of those nights. And she was pretty sure why.
Thank you, Dominic!
Well, no matter what Jemima said, Izzy was going to avoid him from now on. Once was more than enough. Those wicked, mischievous grey eyes were just too perceptive.
Izzy was not at all sure that she would survive another encounter with Dominic Templeton-Burke. She was damned certain that her dignity would not. But she was afraid of losing a lot more than her dignity. He was a real risk to all those careful, reliable defences she had constructed over the years. And—just possibly—to her heart.
Izzy went cold at the thought.
Thank you, Dominic—and goodbye!
‘Izzy? Izzy are you there?’
It was Pepper. Well, that put an end to all the heart-searching. And a good thing, too, Izzy told herself firmly. She popped another taco into her mouth and wandered out to greet her cousin.
‘How did it go?’ asked Pepper, unloading briefcases and bags of samples.
‘Too much styling mousse and not enough privacy,’ said Izzy. ‘But I think I got away with it.’
Maybe her tone was a touch too jaunty. Pepper looked at her searchingly.
‘And how is Jemima? Steven said it sounded bad.’
Izzy gave her a quick rundown.
‘Nasty,’ said Pepper. ‘So what are you going to do over the weekend? You’re welcome to come to Oxford, you know.’
Izzy chuc
kled. ‘Oh, great. Steven would just love that. We have this English concept of the gooseberry, you know.’
‘Well, anything I can do, just ask.’ She coloured faintly. ‘I mean we. Anything we can do.’
Izzy smiled at her affectionately. Against all the odds, Pepper, the driven high achiever who didn’t waste time dating, had fallen in love with the master of an Oxford college. It had taken her time, but eventually she had come to see that he was in love with her, too. And now, with charming wonder, she was getting used to thinking of the two of them as a couple.
‘You’re great. But, no, thanks. I’ll heave up the drawbridge and pretend that Jemima is away—I don’t know where. Nobody’s actually going to come looking for her.’
‘Well, if you’re sure…’
‘I’m sure.’ Izzy ran her hand through her hair and grimaced at the feel. ‘I don’t know how Jemima stands all this muck in her hair. To say nothing of the make-up. I felt as if I was going around with a plaster cast on my face this morning. What I want is a good long shower to get rid of it.’ Conscience kicked in. Pepper had been travelling around the whole day, after all. ‘Unless you want the bathroom first?’
But Pepper shook her head. ‘I want to talk to Steven.’ Her eyes were soft.
Izzy did her best not to feel envious. It was great to see her cousin so in love. She did not grudge her the quiet-voiced evening conversations with her beloved. Nor the unthinking intimacy with which she slipped into the shelter of his arm when Steven came to the flat. But it did make her feel—alone.
Alone is what you choose, Izzy reminded herself grimly. Keep on choosing, over and over again. As Simon can attest and Adam will find out. So don’t go sighing for something you can’t have and clearly don’t really want. If some perfect man popped up through a trapdoor and offered to put his arm round you right now, you’d only fight him off. What’s more, you know it.
Some people just weren’t meant to be part of a couple. Okay, she might want to rip the pants off Dominic Templeton-Burke just at the moment. That didn’t mean she wanted to spend every weekend with him. Or call him at the end of a long day just to hear his chocolate-brown voice.
The Accidental Mistress Page 12