by Jill Mansell
‘So, this is your discreet way of turning me down?’
The car was filled with the voluptuous scent of her perfume. For a fraction of a second, Sam wondered what it would actually be like to make love to a world-famous sex symbol.
Instead, he took her hand and gave it a squeeze. The fifteen-carat diamond on her wedding finger dug into his palm.
‘You’re happily married,’ he said, his tone gentle. ‘And although I’ve only met your husband a couple of times, I liked him. He’s a nice man.’
She nodded. ‘And now you’re being an honourable one. I suppose you’re right, really.’
‘You know I’m right.’ Leaning across, he planted a swift kiss on her cheek. ‘Come on, cheer up. Think of all those Oscar-winning performances you have to give in the next few days.’
With a rueful grin, Meredith said, ‘I could have given one for you, tonight. Except I don’t think they hand out Oscars for that kind of performance, more’s the pity. Hey, now there’s an idea for my party! Everyone gets an Oscar . . . Biggest Jerk, Most Repulsive Paunch, Least Believable Toupee, Smallest Willy . . .’
Relieved to see that she had regained her sense of humour, Sam said, ‘Am I still invited?’
‘Of course! You can be the Greatest Disappointment in Bed.’ Tilting her head to one side she added wickedly, ‘That’s because I couldn’t persuade you into one, of course, but nobody else is going to know that.’
The danger period was over. Sam, having successfully negotiated it, raised his dark eyebrows and said, ‘What’s wrong with Most Honourable Night-Club Manager?’
‘No way! It’s insults only, at this Oscar party. And that reminds me . . .’
‘What?’
‘I forgot to ask you earlier, but somebody mentioned that you were friendly with Izzy Van Asch, and then I saw in the paper this morning that she and Tash Janssen are back together again.’
Sam felt as if he’d been punched in the stomach. His tone carefully neutral, he said, ‘Ye . . . es.’
‘It’s that song of theirs, “Never, Never”,’ Meredith continued with enthusiasm. ‘I just love it so much, I thought how brilliant it would be if they could sing it at my party. My manager’s going to contact theirs, but since you already know Izzy Van Asch, I thought you could have a word with her yourself. Will you ask her to ring me, Sam?’
Was he destined to spend the rest of his life, he wondered painfully, listening to people singing Izzy’s praises?
‘If I see her,’ he replied tonelessly, ‘I’ll tell her. But it isn’t certain that I will. And just because we’re . . . friends doesn’t necessarily mean she’ll say yes.’
‘Just if, then,’ agreed Meredith, her cheerfulness renewed. Gathering her coat around her, she searched in the darkness for the door handle. Then, with a throaty laugh, she added, ‘But I have to tell you, Sam, you certainly slipped up there. She’s a beautiful girl. What kind of man would ever want to be “just friends” with someone like Izzy Van Asch?’
Katerina and Lucille were gossiping in the kitchen when he arrived at the house the following morning.
‘I’ve seen it,’ said Sam wearily, as Katerina waved a copy of yesterday’s paper under his nose.
‘That total dickhead!’ Kat was outraged. ‘Honestly, I sometimes wonder if my mother has more than three brain cells to rub together. I don’t know how she can even bear to speak to him, let alone . . . ugh!’
Sam, who shared her sentiments entirely, helped himself to a slice of Katerina’s heavily buttered toast and marmalade. ‘It might not be true.’
‘I’ve been trying to call her at that hotel, but she isn’t in her room.’ She shot him a dark glance across the table. ‘And Tash’s phone has been left off the hook. God, if she ever brings him round here, I’m leaving home again.’
Sam’s efforts to change the subject were sabotaged at every turn by Lucille, who was intensely interested in the Izzy-Tash affair. ‘Such shenanigans,’ she said in gleeful tones, deftly appropriating the last slice of toast and demolishing it with relish. ‘We’ll have Trevor McDonald here on our doorstep before ye know it. Maybe I should be gettin’ me perm topped up, just to be on the safe side.’
Katerina looked horrified. ‘Why? Don’t tell me you think Tash Janssen’s irresistible as well!’
‘Ah, he’s not my type,’ replied Lucille comfortably. ‘The fellow’s too skinny by half, if you ask me. But Trevor McDonald, now; I’ve always had a bit of a sneakin’ fancy for that one . . .’
‘Did you hear about Izzy?’ asked Gina, when Sam went up to her room.
Later, as he was leaving, he encountered Jericho lying outstretched in the hall, toasting his back against the radiator.
At the sight of him, Jericho thumped his tail with half-hearted enthusiasm. ‘Are you quite sure there isn’t something you’d like to ask me?’ said Sam drily, bending to stroke his sleek, golden head. ‘Like have I seen the piece in the paper about Tash and Izzy?’
Chapter 55
University life evidently agreed with Simon. When he turned up at the house on Friday evening, all smiles and wielding his battered weekend case as easily as if it were a biscuit tin, Katerina was struck afresh by the change in him. He seemed to have grown both in confidence and in stature, and when the irrepressible Lucille insisted upon feeling his biceps and pronounced herself deeply impressed, he took all the attention effortlessly in his stride. Katerina, one of whose favourite pastimes had always been teasing poor Simon until he didn’t know whether he was coming or going, was rather startled to discover that she was no longer even capable of making him blush.
‘That was brilliant,’ he pronounced, having demolished a vast supper of home-made shepherd’s pie followed by two helpings of blackberry-and-apple crumble. As befitted a future member of the university’s rugby team he patted a cast-iron stomach and drained the glass of Guinness which Lucille had pressed upon him. With a broad wink in her direction, he added, ‘I need to keep my strength up, after all.’
He had changed, Katerina decided. Not so long ago, she would have been the one passing that kind of faintly suggestive remark and Simon would have been turning scarlet with embarrassment. Now, however, fully in control and at the same time almost flirting - heaven forbid! - with Lucille, he was scarcely recognizable as the awkward fumbling schoolboy with about as much sex appeal as a teddy bear. It was completely ridiculous, but in the face of such an abrupt role-reversal, she realised that if anyone was in any danger at all of blushing, it was her . . .
Determined to nip such a humiliating prospect in the bud, she countered briskly, ‘You certainly will need to keep your strength up if you’re going to help me with my physics revision.’
But Simon, apparently, had other ideas. Shaking his head, he said, ‘You’ve done enough work. We can do a final run-through tomorrow, if you like, but there’s no point in overloading yourself now. I’ve come down here to give you a break before the exams start next week. Mental relaxation is what you need at this stage. It’s a proven fact.’
In the old days, Katerina had always made the decisions and Simon uncomplainingly had gone along with them. Now that he was being masterful, however, all that had changed. And although she would never normally have allowed herself to be dragged within a mile of a cinema premièreing the latest Arnold Schwarzenegger movie, this time she gave it a chance and found to her astonishment and secret dismay that it was really rather entertaining.
The crowded pub in Holborn where a favourite amateur rock band of Simon’s was playing was also more fun than she would ever have imagined, having steadfastly refused to accompany him to such unprepossessing venues before now. It was noisy, it was hot and it certainly wasn’t a piano concerto by Debussy, but with a half-pint of shandy clutched to her chest, the security of Simon’s muscled arm to protect her from the jostling crowd and the infectious enthusiasm of the band themselves, Katerina realised that once again, despite her initial misgivings, she was actually enjoying herself.
I
t was past midnight before they returned to the house. Having drawn the line at a doner kebab, Katerina switched on the kettle instead and watched Simon wolf his down.
‘So, what exactly were you doing tonight?’ she asked when the last shreds of salad had been efficiently disposed of. ‘Testing me?’
He looked surprised. ‘Testing you for what?’
‘I don’t know.’ Deciding that she didn’t want a coffee after all, she came and sat down on the sofa next to him. ‘I just thought you might be trying to prove something to me.’
Simon broke into a broad grin. ‘Have you been reading Sigmund Freud again?’
‘No!’ Her curiosity was well and truly piqued now. Where was the old Simon, whom she had been able to manipulate so easily and at will? And why was this new Simon seemingly so much more attractive?
Determined to make him blush at least once, Katerina kicked off her flat, black leather pumps and swung her legs across his lap, wriggling her bare toes and giving him a self-deprecating smile. ‘I still think I should have been revising, but I’ve had a great time tonight. Thank you.’
Not only did Simon not blush, but he picked up one of her feet in order to examine it more closely and said in conversational tones, ‘How strange. I’d never noticed before that your middle toes are longer than the big toes. Have they always been like that?’
This was too much. Having long ago become accustomed to his adoration, Katerina couldn’t cope with this new-found lack of it. Stung by the implied criticism of her toes, she wrenched the shameful objects smartly away. ‘Don’t you dare laugh at my feet.’
‘I wasn’t laughing,’ replied Simon mildly. ‘Merely making an observation.’
‘Well, don’t.’
The expression in her brown eyes was unmistakable. It took all his self-control not to burst out laughing. He could still scarcely believe that Jessie had been so right.
‘If you’ve put this girl on a pedestal, how can you ever expect her to look up to you?’ Jessie Charlton, his flatmate’s girlfriend, had made it all sound so simple when, one drunken night, Simon had miserably confided in her. ‘Of course she’s going to treat you like dirt. That’s the way it happens, Si. I’m not saying you have to come over all he-man and chauvinistic, because too much of that is a turn-off as well, but it sounds to me as if a bit of table-turning wouldn’t go amiss. Try treating this girl as if she’s the lucky one. Be macho, be enigmatic, be uninterested . . . and before you know it she’ll be wondering what on earth she’s doing wrong ...Take it from me, Si. You’ll end up practically having to fight her off.’
Good old Jessie, he thought with renewed admiration and fondness. He really owed her one for those inspired words of wisdom. All he had to hope now was that he could maintain the façade of disinterest, both mentally and physically . . .
‘How about that coffee?’ he suggested, still struggling to keep a straight face, and Katerina stomped into the kitchen. Returning to the sitting room two minutes later with mugs of hideously strong instant coffee, she shoved one into his hands and said, ‘You’ve got a girlfriend, haven’t you?’
‘Hmm?’ Simon pretended to be engrossed in his drink, which tasted even more disgusting than it looked. ‘No . . . no . . . of course not.’
She shot him an accusing look. ‘You must have. You’ve changed.’
‘Well, my hair’s longer.’
‘Simon, don’t be so flippant! What is the matter with you?’
He shrugged. ‘I’m OK.’
‘Oh yes, you’re OK.’ Realizing that she was losing her cool but by this time beyond caring, Katerina landed an ineffectual punch on his shoulder. ‘You’re fine. You’re just treating me as if I was something from another planet. You used to like me . . .’
Females were funny creatures, thought Simon. His shoulder didn’t hurt but he rubbed it anyway.
‘I still like you, Kat.’
‘You used to really like me,’ she countered accusingly. ‘I suppose you think that since the Andrew thing I’m some kind of fallen woman. I suppose your mother warned you to keep away from me.’
‘She said no such thing.’ This was chiefly because he had never mentioned ‘the Andrew thing’ to his family, but now wasn’t the time to sound wimpish. ‘And I don’t think of you as a fallen woman, either,’ he added in reassuring tones. ‘After all, you’re only eighteen.’
Out of sheer desperation Katerina leaned across and kissed him, hard. Then, because hard didn’t appear to be working, she softened the kiss, sliding her arms around Simon’s neck and moving slowly against him.
He did his very best to think about something else . . . dustbins . . . rugby practice . . . ice-cold showers . . . anything but what Katerina was doing to him with her hands and mouth.
And failed, miserably.
‘You do still like me,’ murmured Katerina, her warm lips brushing his neck, her body squirming with triumph and pleasure.
‘I didn’t say I didn’t,’ he replied reproachfully, breathing in the clean scent of her skin. ‘And this isn’t fair. It’s a purely biological response—’
‘Not so long ago, you wanted to give me a practical biology demonstration.’
Simon had never stopped wanting to, but despite the intensity of his desire, some sixth sense warned him that if he gave in now, his new-found advantage would be lost and he’d find himself back at square one. He no longer would be a challenge and Kat would lose interest all over again. So far, Jessie’s advice had been spot-on. If, therefore, there was to be any future for this relationship, he absolutely had to remain aloof, macho and . . . oh, hell . . . uninterested . . .
‘Actually,’ he said, doing his best to shrink away from actual physical contact, ‘it was quite some time ago. And you, if you remember, turned me down.’
For the life of her, Katerina couldn’t think why. Neither was she able to imagine how she could have failed to notice until now how attractive Simon really was. He might not be what the girls at school would call ‘drop-dead gorgeous’ - their true heroes, after all, were currently Leonardo DiCaprio and Robbie Williams - but with his straight blond hair, kind face and American football player’s strapping physique, Simon was a million times more interesting than the girls’ puny real-life boyfriends.
‘So now you’re turning me down,’ she said, her self-confidence in tatters, the disappointment evident in her eyes.
Simon shifted uncomfortably in his seat, willing his erection to subside and only hoping he was doing the right thing. Knowing his luck, he thought wryly, Kat would meet some other boy next week and fall madly in love . . .
Placing all his trust in Jessie Charlton, however, and furtively crossing his fingers at the same time, he said, ‘You didn’t want to jeopardize our friendship, if you recall. And I realised afterwards that you were right. Far better to be good friends, Kat, without the hassle of all that sex and stuff.’
To his relief, she broke into a grin. ‘Sex and stuff. It isn’t that terrible, you know.’
Simon didn’t know. Deeply shaming though it was, he had yet to discover the delights of actually making love to a real live girl. If his flatmates ever found out, he would die . . .
‘Of course it isn’t terrible,’ he replied easily, giving Katerina the benefit of his man-of-a-thousand-conquests smile. Little realizing that he was echoing Izzy’s argument with Sam - and lying, just as she had done, through his teeth - he added, ‘But friendship’s more important than sex, every time. And we don’t want to spoil that, do we?’
Chapter 56
Izzy, unaware of the furious speculation surrounding her supposed romance with Tash, was both amused and amazed when - upon arriving home on Saturday morning - she found herself on the receiving end of a decidedly severe mother-daughter lecture.
Since Katerina clearly needed to get the talk out of her system, however, she sat obediently on her bed and waited until it was over before saying, ‘But darling, I know he’s a jerk. This silly newspaper article doesn’t mean anything at all
. I’m really not seeing him again, scout’s honour.’
‘Oh,’ said Katerina, deflating like a balloon. Lamely, she added, ‘Well, good.’
‘And I haven’t married any Italian solicitors either,’ continued Izzy, humouring her. ‘In fact, as far as I’m concerned, men are off the agenda for the foreseeable future. I’m going to be concentrating on work, work, work.’
‘Me too.’
Dying to ask how things were between Sam and Gina, but sensing that something was still bothering Kat, Izzy gestured for her daughter to sit down beside her. Idly playing with her long, sleek brown hair, she said, ‘Is everything all right, sweetheart? Simon isn’t . . . making a nuisance of himself, is he?’
Katerina leaned against her mother’s shoulder, as she had always done when she was a child. ‘No. He’s taking me to see a rugby match this afternoon.’