Fever Pitch

by Sarah Holland

  Jacey grinned. 'Three o'clock. Let me in.'

  She laughed, feeling a bubble of relief in her throat. He had come back for her. Jumping out of bed, she pulled her wrap on shakily, jerking it together at the waist and hurrying downstairs.

  Jacey lounged against the doorjamb. 'Good morning,' he said smokily as she opened the door. His eyes burnt over her slender body in the thin white wrap. 'You look good enough to eat.'

  Louisa laughed huskily. 'I am.' Holding the door back, she felt breathless, the impact of his dark good looks devastating her. 'Come in. You'll wake my landlord up if you stand there much longer.'

  He pushed away from the door and came in lazily, standing in front of her in the hall. The silence was fraught with tension as they watched each other, and Louisa was sure he must be able to hear her heart thudding.

  'Are we going to stand here all night?' he murmured; sliding one hand over her waist and drawing her towards him.

  Louisa felt the touch with a ripple of sensuality that made her pulses drum crazily inside her. She slid one hand over his brown throat and strained against him, her face alight with hunger and need.

  'Why did you stay away so long?' she asked throatily, hardly able to speak.

  He studied her silently for a moment. 'Questions, questions,' he said huskily, then his head bent slowly, and his warm firm mouth was moving over hers until she almost whimpered. He drew away, flushed, breathing hard. 'Let's go up,' he muttered thickly, and they went up to her flat in silence, while he followed her into the living room.

  Jacey eyed her with a lazy smile. 'Missed me?' he asked deeply.

  Her pulses leapt with the same old excitement. She smiled, her eyes dancing. 'Didn't give you a thought!' she lied, her cheeks dimpling.

  Jacey's brows rose. 'Is that so?' he drawled, walking towards her, his hard mouth curving in a smile. One hand slid over hers, the long fingers curling on her wrist. 'I thought of you all the time. I can see I haven't made much of an impact on you.' His green eyes darkened. 'I shall have to try harder. I wouldn't want you to forget me.'

  She started to smile, but the words got through to her, and her smile wavered. 'Forget you?' she queried, her voice uncertain. 'Why should I do that?'

  Jacey studied her for a long moment in silence. The smile left his face, and she saw the brooding expression slip into place, his mouth firming, his expression serious.

  'Jacey?' Her whole body was stiff, icy cold with fear as she watched him. She laughed nervously, her eyes darting over him. 'Why should I forget you, Jacey?'

  His hand slid away from hers, dropping to his side. He gave a harsh sigh, raking his fingers through his black hair as he turned his back to her, his broad shoulders held in tension.

  Louisa was really worried now. 'Jacey,' her voice was low with fear as she laid a hand on his arm, 'tell me what's going on!'

  There was a tense silence, then he said deeply, 'I have to go away for a while.'

  She stared at him. He had only just come back. Swallowing, she said, 'How long is a while?'

  He shrugged broad shoulders, the muscles rippling powerfully beneath his dark jacket. 'A month, maybe two.'

  Her heart stopped beating. 'Two months?' she asked, dry-mouthed.

  He thrust his hands into his pockets. Louisa noticed for the first time that he was dressed in black, his suit exquisitely cut, obviously expensive.

  'Where did you get that suit?' she asked, eyeing it, a premonition of fear gripping her suddenly. 'I haven't seen it before.'

  Jacey ignored the question. 'Will you wait for me?' His eyes were intense as he watched her. 'I don't know when I'll be back, I can't give any guarantees. But I want you to wait for me.'

  Louisa smiled nervously. 'Of course I will,' she said, and she felt her heart beating in a slow deathly rhythm. 'But why. don't you take me with you? Surely that would be easier?'

  His face hardened. 'I can't,' he said abruptly. He walked slowly away to the other side of the room, stopping by the mantel to pick up little ornaments and finger them absently.

  'Well, at least tell me where you're going,' she urged, keeping her voice as controlled as possible while she watched his brooding face.

  Jacey shook his head. 'I can't do that either.' He looked across at her stricken face, and sighed harshly. 'I'm sorry, Louisa. Maybe when I get back I'll feel up to it.'

  'Maybe when you get back ...?' she whispered, struggling for self-control. She couldn't believe this was happening. The earth between them was splitting apart, and a great abyss was yawning, ready to destroy them. She had never felt so desperately lost in her life.

  Jacey came towards her, his face .dark and brooding. 'All I can do is ask you to trust me,' he said deeply, and his hands slid to hers, holding them gently.

  Louisa lost control. 'Trust you?' she echoed angrily. 'How can I do that? You tell me you're going away, you won't say where or why, and you won't say when you're coming back— and you ask me to trust you?' Her eyes flashed an angry black. 'What is there to trust?'

  His face hardened. 'Me. That should be enough for you.'

  She laughed angrily. 'Oh, thanks a lot! I'm supposed to be grateful for the crumbs you throw me, am I?'

  Jacey's hands slid to her shoulders, the long fingers tightening on her. 'You're too proud, Louisa,' he said in a low voice. 'If your pride can get in the way of your feelings, then your feelings can't be very strong.'

  She pulled away from him, her heart thudding fast as she struggled for self-control. He was right, and she knew it, but her pride was strong and she couldn't throw away her self-respect.

  'And neither can yours,' she flung back at him. 'You hide behind lies and secrets—how can I get close to you if you permanently push me away?'

  His eyes leapt with anger. 'I asked you a long time ago if my past mattered to you. You knew what you were getting into right from the start. Don't start trying to hit out at me for it now.'

  She stared at him bitterly. 'I wish I'd never met you,' she said through her teeth.

  His eyes were filled with violence for a moment. The silence between them was intense and deadly. Then he straightened, his face an angry mask as he watched her with narrowed eyes.

  'The feeling,' he said bitingly, 'is mutual.'

  He turned on his heel and strode out of the room, leaving the door swinging behind him.

  Louisa stood in stunned disbelief, listening to the click of his heels as he left the flat, going out into the night.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Life without Jacey was a day-after-day torment for Louisa. She saw his face in her mind everywhere she went. Passing places where they had spent time together made her hurt inside, as her mind conjured up vivid images of what they had shared.

  Friends were sympathetic when they noticed that she was no longer spending her time with Jacey. But they weren't surprised. He had always been a mystery to them, and his disappearances were usual.

  After a fortnight of agony, Louisa threw her pride to the winds and telephoned everyone she knew, trying to find out if they knew where he was. No one had any idea.

  Scotty watched her sadly, almost as though he could feel what she was going through. But he said nothing, trying to keep her mind off Jacey as much as possible.

  'Maybe he'll come back,' said Scotty one day as he noticed her staring into space, her face tight with pain.

  Louisa shook her head slowly. 'No,' she said, hurting inside, 'he'll never come back.'

  Everything reminded her of him. Every song she heard conjured up his face. The radio played constantly in the little bookshop where she worked, and the words of one particular song made her wince:

  '... All dressed in black, he won't be coming back ...' was a lyric that haunted her for days, going round and round in her head, constantly on her lips.

  Then, a month after Jacey had left, something happened to change her life. It seemed so ordinary at the time, but it overturned her life completely.

  She was stamping prices on a pile of books when s
he became aware of being watched. Her gaze flickered a little and she realised someone was leaning on the counter, watching her.

  'Hi,' said a deep male voice.

  Louisa looked up into dancing blue eyes. He wore a red leather jacket, faded blue jeans and a cheeky amused expression as though he was making a judge or pillar of society stamp around and make a fool of himself. His face was long and thin and his hair spiky blond and tousled.

  He grinned at her. 'Did you know you could get stamper's elbow doing that?'

  'Really?' she said in a polite little voice.

  'Oh yes,' he said gravely, but his lips tried to smile. 'Rare disease, but it plays havoc with your love life.'

  Louisa's smile disappeared. 'Can I help you?' she asked coldly.

  He coughed self-consciously. 'Er—I was looking for a book on Musicians of the Seventies—you know, rock and roll, etc.' He gave her a quick uncertain smile. 'Got anything along that line?'

  Louisa pointed to a row of books. 'The Musical section is over there.'

  He nodded, and walked slowly over to the section. Louisa noted the worn, rather tatty sneakers he wore with his faded denims. She bent her head and continued pricing the books.

  The man came back, offered her a book and paid for it, watching her as she slipped it into a paper bag with a polite, neutral expression.

  'What are you doing tonight?' he asked suddenly as she handed him the book.

  Crying, thought Louisa. But she replied coolly, 'Taking my pet alligator for a walk.'

  He laughed, his eyes creasing with delight. 'I like you,' he informed her, his lips parting to show her that his front tooth was slightly crooked. 'My name's Pete—what's yours?'

  'Louisa,' she told him, then bent her head, ending the conversation. 'If you'll excuse me, I have to get on with my work.'

  She didn't want to be rude, but it was the simplest way. Pete got the message and left the shop—or so it seemed. When Louisa went for her lunch break he was waiting outside for her.

  'Hi!' Pete's spiky head popped up beside her in the busy street. 'Fancy meeting you here?'

  'Fancy,' she said drily, walking along the pavement away from him, the cars blaring their horns as they crawled along the wet road.

  'Buy lunch for a starving musician?' he pleaded, turning the pockets of his faded blue jeans out. 'I'm stony broke. All I need is one little sandwich—I've been rehearsing all night.'

  Louisa's cheeks dimpled at his sheer nerve. 'Go away,' she said, amused.

  Pete followed her into the steamy little cafe around the corner, leaning against the counter as she ordered coffee and a sandwich for herself. His bright blue eyes ran over her with a smile.

  'Tell you what,' he said, his bony hands raised in a compromise, 'I'll share your lunch—how's that?' and Louisa sighed, relenting and ordering him something to eat and drink.

  The sound of china clattering all around them mingled noisily with the water that hissed steamily as it poured into coffee cups. They sat down at an oblong, plastic-topped table in the corner.

  'What do you do?' she asked him as they ate. 'Apart from extort food from people?'

  Pete grinned. 'A wandering minstrel I . . .' he intoned, unwrapping his sandwich from its plastic covering. 'This looks delightful,' he commented, eyeing the sandwich for a moment. Then he grinned again. 'I play rock music in clubs with some friends of mine—when my father isn't watching, that is.'

  Louisa's brows rose. 'Daddy wouldn't approve?' she queried.

  He put his sandwich down, uneaten. 'Afraid not. He says we're long-haired louts, and our music is a disgrace to the profession.' He shrugged. 'But who cares? We like it—and so do a lot of other people.'

  She studied him, sipping her coffee, then asked, 'Are you successful?'

  Pete looked at her out of the corner of his eye. 'A lot more successful at playing than I am at getting beautiful girls from bookshops to give me a date,' he hinted.

  Her face tensed. She bent her head, ignoring his hint. She didn't want to get involved with anyone else—not after the disastrous way her relationship with Jacey had turned out.

  Pete walked her back to the bookshop, stopping outside and delaying his goodbye for as long as possible. Louisa eventually had to tell him to go away.

  'Why?' he asked when she said she didn't want to see him again. 'Because I'm a long-haired lout?' He grimaced, touching his hair. 'It's not that long—is it?'

  It didn't even touch his collar, but it had nothing to do with it. 'No, but I just don't want to get involved,' Louisa said kindly, opening the shop door.

  He watched her in silence, then shrugged. 'Okay. See you.' He wandered off in the other direction, scuffing his training shoes against the pavement as he walked.

  Louisa didn't think she'd see him again. But the next day when she went for her lunch break, she noticed a long, brand new limousine pull up beside her.

  'Hi.' Pete stepped out of the Rolls-Royce with a proud grin. 'Now it's my turn to take you to lunch,' he announced with more than a touch of self-satisfaction.

  She allowed him to put her in the front seat, her eyes wide with incredulity. 'How many banks did you rob?' she asked, her voice breathless as they slid away smoothly.

  'Just one,' he said lightly, 'and he'll kill me when he finds out.' He laughed as they pulled up outside an exclusive restaurant in Mayfair, lounging back in his seat. The jeans were gone, replaced by a well cut, expensive suit, and his hair was brushed back neatly.

  Louisa looked at him slowly. 'Daddy's?' she asked.

  Pete nodded, cutting out the engine. 'I forgot to mention—he owns about sixteen orchestras and a few opera houses around the world.'

  Louisa stared at him in amazement.

  By the end of the month, Peter Radcliffe was deeply in love with her. He bombarded her with flowers, presents, telephone calls. Her own feelings, however, were too deeply involved with Jacey for her to feel anything more than affection for him.

  There was an innocence in Pete that touched something inside her. Her own childhood had been badly scarred by the stigma of illegitimacy, by poverty, and by the rough environment she had lived in. But Pete's family had shielded him from the realities of life.

  Louisa still loved Jacey, though. He was a part of her, and she couldn't let go of his memory.

  Pete took her to meet his father one evening. 'You'll know if he likes you,' he explained as they waited just inside the hall of the enormous white house. 'He'll try to rope you into listening to Wagner!'

  Louisa frowned. Pete was taking her too seriously. 'I'm sure he'll just see me as another of your girl-friends,' she said gently.

  Pete was about to speak, but a voice bellowed, 'Tell him I'm not in!'

  Pete grimaced and whispered to her, 'That's my dear paternal relative. He should have been an opera star—he's always had a talent for yelling his guts out!'

  Louisa gave him a little smile, but frowned as they heard more noises from along the hall.

  'Infernal nuisance!' muttered an irritated voice, as a door opened. A man with a bald head and silver hair came out of the room wearing a dinner jacket and a very cross expression. . 'Hi, Pop!' said Pete as the tall, elegant man advanced towards him.

  Mr Radcliffe eyed him with offended dignity. 'Kindly do not address me as Pop,' he said, his long Roman nose lifted in the air, his blue eyes beady.

  Pete propelled Louisa forward. 'This is Louisa,' he told his father, and added, 'Be nice to her.'

  Mr Radcliffe peered at her suspiciously. 'This is Louisa?' he echoed, somewhat amazed. He studied her closely, then looked at his son with a smile. 'But she's normal! Good heavens, boy, why didn't you say so in the first place?'

  Pete grinned. 'You'd never have believed me.'

  Louisa watched the two men drily, feeling as though she were a tennis ball being passed from one to the other. 'Do you mind?' she said with a warm smile. 'I am still here, you know.'

  Mr Radcliffe smiled. 'Beg your pardon, my dear, but my son has a habit of bring
ing the strangest creatures home. When he was a teenager, he used to bring the most unspeakable objects home and masquerade them as females.'

  Louisa could believe that. Pete was only just kicking the habit of rebelling against everything his father stood for, and he was nearly twenty-seven years old. It was really time he stopped it. «

  'I say,' Mr Radcliffe stroked his jaw contemplatively, 'do you remember that creature with the fluorescent green hair? Green!' He shuddered, looking at Louisa. 'Punk rocker, you know,' he informed her gravely, 'in my own home! Never thought I'd live to see the day.'

  Louisa's eyes danced. 'Well,' she said, laughing, 'I'm not a punk rocker, I'm afraid. Sorry if I've disappointed you.'

  'Good lord, no!' Mr Radcliffe laughed, his expression jovial. 'You're a pretty little thing— wouldn't do to see you with safety-pins in your nose.' He took her arm with a smile. 'Won't you take a drink with me, my dear?' he invited, leading her towards the room he had emerged from.

  Pete followed, grinning at Louisa while she did her best to ignore him, giving all her attention to his father.

  'Do you like Verdi, my dear?' Mr Radcliffe asked hopefully.

  'He liked you!' Pete told her with pride as he drove her home.

  The evening had definitely been a success. Peter's father had cornered her attention, making sure she had everything she could possibly want, taking the utmost trouble to see that her glass was always filled. She had been flattered and pleased. She had felt a deeper affection towards Pete as he grinned triumphantly across at her.

  'I liked him too,' she said, smiling as night-time London flashed by in a glowing blur.

  'My mother would have liked you,' Pete murmured, his eyes distant.

  Louisa put her hand over his, silently comforting. She knew only too well what it was like to be without one of your parents. She had often felt as though a part of her was missing, a part of her identity had been lost, thrown away by a careless stranger.

  Tonight, she had felt she had belonged, truly belonged. Not the way she felt with Jacey, because their love was deep and intense, real and compelling. But with Pete and his father she had somehow felt ... as though she were part of a family, a warm family unit.