Fever Pitch

by Sarah Holland

  She stepped down from the ladder, her breathing quickening. 'What brings you here?' she asked huskily. No matter how many times she saw him his impact always made her whole body jangle with excitement.

  He smiled and her heart skipped a beat. 'You,' he murmured. He looked dangerously sexy in black jeans and a black sweater. 'I've got the afternoon off,' he said, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans. 'I thought maybe you could too.'

  Bobby was glowering, listening to them. 'Scotty won't like it,' he said, glaring at Jacey.

  Jacey raised one dark brow. 'Why do I get the feeling he doesn't like me?' he drawled lazily. He leaned against the bookshelves, folding his arms and watching Bobby with amusement.

  Bobby looked very cross. His ears went pink. 'All right,' he muttered, slamming books, 'take the afternoon off. But you can explain to Scotty in the morning, because I'm not going to.'

  Jacey pushed away from the shelves lazily, and Louisa felt her breath catch. 'Ready?' he asked.

  They went to his flat on the other side of town. It was too far to walk, so they caught a bus, sitting on the top deck, looking out of the window as they laughed over Bobby's behaviour. Louisa told him what Bobby had said before he came into the shop.

  Jacey's eyes narrowed as he looked down at her. 'Does it matter to you?' he asked seriously. 'Would you prefer to know more about me? About my background?'

  Louisa shook her head. 'It's not important. Besides,' her face sobered, guilt surfacing inside her, 'you know very little about me either.'

  Jacey eyed her silently. Then he looked up. 'Come on!' He caught her hand as the bus veered unsteadily around a corner. 'Our stop.'

  They raced down the steps, their feet clattering, and leapt off the bus as it pulled away from the stop, landing unsteadily on the pavement. Jacey took her hand as they started to walk along the leafy back street towards his small flat.

  Louisa had been surprised when he first took her to his flat. It was in a terraced house, run by an old landlady who complained and moaned every time she saw Jacey. The flat itself was small, cramped and badly furnished, obviously very cheap.

  'I don't need money,' Jacey had told her when she asked why he lived in such a ramshackle place at his age. 'It just gets in the way, stops you being yourself.'

  Now, they walked into the musty old house while the landlady, Mrs Martin, poked her withered nose around the door, clutching her worn cardigan to her spindly body.

  'No mud on them shoes, I hope?' Mrs Martin eyed Jacey's feet suspiciously.

  'On a day like this?' Jacey replied with a smile as they closed the door behind them.

  Mrs Martin sniffed. 'Gets into my bones, this wind. I wish summer would hurry up.' She pushed her spectacles higher on the bony bridge of her nose.

  Jacey grinned as they walked to the stairs. 'But you know how you hate the heat. You told me last year it made you feverish.'

  Mrs Martin sighed wearily. 'You're right, you're right. It's my punishment for being old, God help me.' She shook her head and shuffled off into her own rooms, while Jacey led the way upstairs.

  'One of life's complainers,' Jacey remarked as they went up the creaking stairs to his rooms at the top of the house. He laughed, opening the door and going into the cramped living room. 'Like your friend Bobby.'

  Louisa smiled, sitting down on the ragged armchair. 'You mustn't take any notice of him, Jacey.' She smiled up at him, eyes dancing. 'It's just because you're so different.'

  One dark brow rose with amusement. 'Different?'

  She nodded. 'Well, you are thirty-six, and you have no roots, no particular ambitions.'

  His face hardened, and Louisa was surprised, watching his mouth firm, his eyes darken.

  'True,' he said curtly, and the green eyes held an angry glitter that disturbed her. 'I did have once. In fact I was very ambitious at one time.' He smiled coldly. 'A regular whizz-kid, putting dynamite under companies and turning the losers into winners.'

  She frowned, watching him. 'What happened?'

  Again, his mouth firmed angrily. 'I got sick of it.' The deep anger in his voice made her stare at him, amazed, seeing the change in him, the icy contempt in his eyes. He crossed to the tiny window, staring out of it with a brooding expression. 'Something happened to make me want to get out of the whole goddamned jungle. I used to wake up and see what I had to live with.' His eyes darkened, narrowing. 'It made me want to throw up.'

  Louisa was silent for a long time. She didn't know what to say. It was the first inkling she had ever had of a stormy past he might be hiding from her.

  She moistened her lips and asked, 'Do you want to tell me about it? It might help.'

  Jacey looked over his shoulder with grim amusement. 'Help?' He laughed. 'If I couldn't help myself, what makes you think you could? It would make me physically sick to go back to that world. I've left it all behind me now.'

  She stiffened, horrified to find herself putting a mask over her face to conceal the sudden pain she felt inside at his rejection. It was the first time he'd ever rejected her, and to do it so coldly was like a nail being driven through her heart.

  'You shouldn't lock things inside, Jacey,' she told him coolly, again horrified by the way she was hiding her true feelings from him.

  He just looked at her, his face immovable.

  She felt angry. 'Would you rather I wasn't interested?'

  He studied her, the line of cheek and jaw harsh. 'Frankly, yes.'

  Louisa could feel her face tighten as she stared at him. Resentment burnt inside her as they watched each other silently across the worn furniture, their faces hostile.

  There should be no secrets, she thought angrily. And yet she had told him very little about herself either. But in holding back she had felt no seeds of doubt—she had just thought the time wasn't right. Now she could feel the doubt eating into her stomach like a cancer.

  'Was what happened so terrible,' she asked through barely parted lips, 'that you can't even bring yourself to tell me?'

  Jacey nodded, eyes narrowed.

  Her eyes searched his deeply. 'Why, Jacey?' she asked in a low voice.

  He swung on her, eyes leaping. 'Leave it!' he muttered through his teeth, and she jerked away in shock at the expression on his face.

  'I will!' she retorted angrily, standing up and moving to the door.

  But he was faster. His hand shot out to grip her wrist, jerking her back towards him. 'What the hell are you doing?' he muttered under his breath.

  'What does it look like?' she snapped back.

  Jacey was silent for a long time, studying her intently. It was as though he was searching deep into her mind, trying to get inside her head, although there was no need for it. She would let him in any time he wanted. All he had to do was ask.

  'You worry me, Louisa,' he said eventually. 'You're so ambitious, so angry with the world. It'll destroy you in the end.'

  'If you don't like the way I am, Jacey, you can take a running jump!'

  He eyed her, his mouth hard. 'I can understand why you feel like that. You've had a rough time, you want to hit out at life. But you can't. If you try, life will hit you back, twice as hard.'

  Her eyes flashed a deep angry black. 'I'm me, Jacey,' she said under her breath, her body tense. 'Take me or leave me.'

  There was a tense silence, then he reached out one hand to slide sensually over her throat, his fingers thrusting in her thick black hair.

  'I think I'll take you,' he muttered, drawing her closer.

  The weeks slipped by, but the incident didn't fade in her mind. It had been their first argument, and she wasn't ready to forget it. Louisa recognised a milestone when she saw one.

  Before, when she had argued with boy-friends, the feelings had been mainly irritation, annoyance, as though she hadn't really wanted to bother with arguing. But Jacey was different, so different. Her feelings had been so intense, so violent, and the fact that she was falling more and more in love with him frightened her. How could she feel this
much for one human being?

  'I'll make an honest woman of you one day,' Jacey told her as they walked hand in hand across Hyde Park one Sunday morning. The grass was damp beneath their feet, the air crisp, the chill winter sunshine cool.

  'Oh?' Louisa turned to look at him, brows raised. 'Am I dishonest?' and those panther green eyes burnt into her, making her heart thud faster with what she saw in them.

  The need for each other was eating away at both of them, working up to fever pitch. The longer she denied him, the more she wanted him. It • was becoming almost unbearable to stand too close to him because their awareness of each other was ferocious, tangible.

  Her mouth dried up every time she caught a glimpse of his tanned flesh, her heart rocketed every time he kissed her. She was a walking time-bomb, constantly aroused, constantly needing him. It would only take one, touch to make her explode.

  But she was afraid. At first it had been fear of losing him. Now it was fear of giving herself totally to a man who was secretive. How could she be sure that he wouldn't leave her if she made love to him?

  Yet it was also fear of her own feelings. She sensed that when they did finally make love, it would be a cataclysmic explosion for them both. And the longer it went unsated, the more explosive it became. She felt as though their bodies were turning into animals with their violent need of each other.

  'Here,' Jacey reached into his coat pocket with one hand, 'present for you.'

  'A present?' Her face lit up, and she laughed. 'I like presents. Is it a box of chocolates?' But then he held out his hand, and her breath got stuck in the back of her throat as she saw the sunlight reflect and glitter in solid gold rays. 'My God!' she whispered, staring.

  'He's called Bubo,' Jacey said lazily, holding the gold statuette up to the sun. 'He was Athena's owl.'

  But she was staring at the exquisite golden owl with a cold taste of fear in her mouth. 'Jacey ...' she said on a whisper, 'it's beautiful—but where on earth did you get it? It must have cost a small fortune!' Her eyes raised to his face, wide and haunted with fear. 'You don't have that kind of money.'

  'See his eyes?' Jacey pointed to the black stones. 'They're like yours—very black, very wise. I think you were born wise. The angels whispered secrets to you before you were born.'

  Her gaze flickered restlessly. 'Jacey,' she said, swallowing, 'Jacey, where did you get it?'

  He was silent and still. He watched her, his face brooding, and she «aw the mask slide into place, leaving a hostile dangerous stranger in place of the man she loved.

  'Does it matter?' he asked curtly.

  Louisa frowned. She wasn't used to backing down; it went against her inbuilt sense of self-preservation. But she could see plainly that he wouldn't tell her where he got the statuette. This once, she thought angrily. This once I shall back down.

  'It doesn't matter.' she said, but her voice belied her words.

  It mattered, and he knew it. But it was the fact that he wouldn't tell her where he'd got the money that made her angry—and that was different.

  A mystery man, Bobby had said. Bobby had known what he was talking about. Jacey kept his past locked securely in the past, and he didn't want her to tamper with the lock.

  Who are you? she thought intently, 'but she already knew. He was ready to hand her his raw self, but the life he'd led before didn't come part and parcel with it. She had to accept what he was ready to give.

  'Don't you want it?' Jacey's voice was cold, his eyes narrowed as he held out the golden owl.

  She looked at it for a long time. Then, 'Thank you,' she said slowly, and held out her own hand. It was an olive branch and she grasped it, holding on tightly to what she was so sure was hers.

  He belonged to her and she wasn't letting go without a fight. Even if it meant she would lose some of her own self-respect in the process, even if it meant compromise after compromise in the process.

  'He's everything you want, is he?' old Mr Scott asked one afternoon as they cashed up at the end of the day.

  Louisa raised her head. 'Yes,' she said, eyeing the top of his greying head, 'I think so.'

  But she wasn't so sure. Jacey was everything she wanted in a man, but although her life was richer now than it had ever been, she felt a sense of dissatisfaction with life outside Jacey.

  Maybe she expected too much of him. Maybe she was too easily hurt. Or maybe she needed something else. Maybe she needed more than Jacey. But did that mean Jacey wasn't right for her? She sighed, shaking her head.

  There were more questions than answers.

  But what if she married him? For the first few weeks, every time they made love it would be with violent emotion, with the ferocity of animals. But after that—what then? The intensity of their love might fade, and what would she be left with? She would have no life of her own outside Jacey. And she knew now that she needed a life of her own, apart from him, but with him.

  Mr Scott's eyes were kind. 'You have to be sure,' he told her gently, and his withered hand stopped, resting on the receipts he was leafing through. 'It's painful to make mistakes—especially the marrying kind.'

  Louisa stiffened. 'I realise that,' she said coolly, her face smoothing over. 'I have to make my own mistakes, though.' She turned back to the adding machine in front of her, her fingers working quickly.

  Scotty was silent for a moment. Then he stood up, his face wrinkled in a frown. 'I'm a nosey old devil, I know,' he said kindly, and his watery blue eyes searched hers. 'Doesn't do to poke your nose in where it's not wanted, but ...' he sighed, shaking his head.

  She gave him a polite smile. 'But it's for my own good?'

  He nodded slowly. 'Aye, lassie, it's for your own good.' He eyed her sadly, then smiled. 'I wouldn't want to see you get hurt. Not after you've been strong for so long.'

  Louisa bent her head, ashamed. Scotty was her oldest ally in London. He had been the first person to treat her with kindness, and she should have treated him with a lot more respect.

  'I'm sorry,' she said huskily, looking up at him, eyes troubled. She knew he had only been worried for her and it was time she remembered just how much she owed him. More than she could ever repay.

  The telephone bell shrilled into the silence. Scotty grimaced, picking it up and muttering into it hurriedly.

  'For you.' He waved the receiver and smiled. 'Jacey.'

  She felt the familiar thud of her heart and reached out for the phone with a smile in her voice as she said, 'Hallo.'

  'Something's come up.' Jacey's voice was cool and impersonal and Louisa frowned, wondering what had happened. 'I won't be able to make it tonight.'

  She felt her heart sink with disappointment at his words. 'Why not?' she asked—but she should have known better.

  There was a pause. 'I can't tell you, Louisa,' he said in a low voice, and her frown deepened with a sense of disbelief. She waited to hear if there was more, but he was silent.

  Louisa took a deep breath. 'When will I see you?' She hated herself for it, because it sounded so much as though she was begging for his time, but she couldn't help herself. She had to know.

  'Soon.' Jacey's voice was warm and she felt relief flood through her. 'I'll call you when I get back.'

  Louisa jerked back in shock as the line went dead. She stared at the receiver for a full minute before she realised he had actually hung up on her without saying goodbye.

  Slowly she replaced the receiver, her face white. She felt very cold inside, as though a premonition had been ignored and now time was catching up with her.

  'Is anything wrong?' Scotty was watching her, his straggly grey brows linked in a frown of concern.

  Louisa stared at the wall with unseeing black eyes. 'No ...' she murmured, her voice distracted, her body still.

  But she knew it was a lie—something was going wrong between her and Jacey, and she was powerless to prevent it.

  She didn't hear from him for three days. The silence was almost unbearable for her, punctuated with shattered hopes e
very time the telephone rang, every time the door opened for a customer. She would look up quickly, Jacey's figure in her mind's eyes, and see a stranger, and then her heart would hurt with disappointment.

  He was necessary to her—she saw that now, with painful clarity. Just three days, and she felt as though her whole world had fallen apart. When they had first met she had simply beep overwhelmed with intense emotion for him, pleased that fate had sent her a partner who was so much like herself.

  Now she knew she desperately needed him, and that was quite different. But why was he so secretive? she asked herself as she lay awake in bed one night, staring into the blank darkness. The secrets will destroy us, she thought angrily—surely he must realise that?

  Her pride was steadily being eaten away by a need to get inside his head. She had been so sure they were alike, two of a kind. But, she asked herself, would one of my own kind destroy my self-respect?

  Love, she thought, and laughed out loud, angrily. Loving Jacey had changed her drastically. She had been strong, and now she was weak. She had been self-sufficient, and now she clung to him. She almost hated herself for it.

  She had heard a song that day which had jolted her. Listening to the lyric, she had felt her mouth tighten angrily. It was about someone who looked into the mirror and saw someone they didn't want to be. And that was how she felt.

  1 don't want to be such a fool, she thought angrily. I want to be me again, to think for myself instead of needing Jacey with me all the time. He had turned her into a dull shadow.

  Some time in the night, she jerked awake. Blinking back the sleep, she stared into the silent darkness, wondering what had woken her. Then she heard it again.

  A stone clattered on to the window next to her, falling back to the ground with a hollow thud. She sat up, her heart hammering as she reached to pull the curtains back.

  'Louisa!' Jacey's whisper reached her ears as she looked out into the street.

  Her fingers didn't work properly as she pulled the window up and looked out. 'Do you know what time it is?' she asked breathlessly. Her pulses were going haywire, thudding crazily at the sight of him. She could barely speak, her mind not working properly, forgetting all her doubts and self-searching.