“Don’t you have to drive to the city?” Fen asked with a bluntness that bordered on rude. But she didn’t care. The quicker James left the more relaxed she would feel.
“Yes. I came to see if you’d changed your mind and wanted a lift.”
“I have changed my mind. I’m not going to London at all. I’m staying here for a few days to help Lyn with the Christmas baking.”
“You are?” said Lynette, her mouth forming a complete round of surprise and her eyes blinking rapidly.
“I am,” she replied firmly.
“That’s a shame. I could have done with the company.” His lips quirked in a regretful manner.
Fen was far too conscious of his hang-dog expression, which was no doubt to appeal to her better nature and make her change her mind. Hah. It didn’t work. She was made of sterner stuff. “I’ve got my laptop with me. I might be able to find you a suitable candidate from my files who can fill the breach.”
“Forget I said anything,” said James, holding up his hands in a defensive pose. “I couldn’t bear another run in with a Lucinda-type. Suddenly solitary driving sounds great.”
“You are so chicken.”
James dropped his hands and stuck them on his hips. “And you, my sweet, are a coward. Why don’t you want to spend time with me?” He held her eyes with his steady gaze, challenging her.
Fen tried not to squirm like a speared worm on the end of a fish hook, but it was hard remaining aloof. “I don’t mind spending time with you,” she hedged.
“Good. Progress at last. So about this drink you promised me?”
“Soon.” She was back to squirming.
“Coward.”
She responded to the jibe, which was probably what he intended. “Okay, Wednesday.”
“Done.” And he grinned at her as Lynette handed him his mug of tea. “Now,” he said. “That wasn’t so hard, was it, Ms. Grant?”
Fen gave him a hard stare and he laughed out loud, but didn’t push the point further. He was content to drink his tea and chat to Lynette about village life, tossing the occasional warm glance in Fen’s direction. Those glances weren’t lost on either sister. One found them amusing, the other wanted to crawl under the table and die of embarrassment.
“So,” said Lynette after James had left. “How are you going to weasel out of your little date?”
“I’ll think of something.” Fen nibbled the top of her finger and thought of a hundred ways to get out of seeing James, but rejected them in the next instance. Trips to Outer Mongolia and flying to the moon were not logical.
“Just come clean, why don’t you?” suggested her sister.
Fen rolled her eyes in disgust.
“Not an option,” said Fen. “I do not want him to know I’m crippled. While I think of a plan, I’d better get dressed before we have any other visitors. Then I must make some mince pies to earn my keep.”
****
Wednesday came around too fast, but Fen had everything planned and ready to roll. She was meeting James at a small bar not far from her home. She’d get there early, hide her crutches under the bench and then stay glued to the seat until The Phone Call.
The phone call would be for James. She’d organized with Belle, via Lynette, for Belle to ring his mobile and make up some excuse for him to leave the bar. He’d go, Fen would retrieve her crutches, hop into a taxi and James would be none the wiser about her wonky legs. Brilliant.
Brilliant, except it was the pre-Christmas silly season and the bar was packed. Brilliant, except it took Fen so long to find a seat she’d only just stowed her crutches under the bench before James arrived, which meant she was all hot and bothered. And brilliant, except James was far, far too early by a good fifteen minutes, and she hadn’t enough time to center herself. Instead, she was flushed and flustered. He probably thought that was because of him, which irked her no end.
“You’re early,” she accused while surreptitiously using her heel to push the crutches further under the bench and out of sight.
“So are you. You must have been as anxious to see me as I was to see you.” He bent over and kissed the tip of her nose, then grinned.
His action threw Fen. No one kissed her on the nose. It was too bold, too familiar.
“I thought we’d have a drink here and then go on somewhere for dinner,” said James. “I ordered us a bottle of Merlot. We can drink the wine while we decide where we should eat. There are several good places around here. I recommend the Thai round the corner.”
Fen’s plans were unraveling at the speed of light and she tried not to panic. “But you said we were meeting for just a drink.” The Thai and any other restaurant were not to be considered.
“Live dangerously, darling.”
“This is dangerous enough for me, thank you,” said Fen with repressive force.
James chuckled and clinked her wine glass with his. “Here’s to us and living dangerously.”
His tone was low and warm and sexy. Fen’s heart skipped a couple of beats, or six. She didn’t know if it was safe to drink to his toast. She wasn’t sure what he wanted of her and was equally unsure what she wanted of him. Though, to be realistic, she should ask for nothing at this point of her life. The thought shafted her heart with breathtaking speed and caught her on the raw. “Nothing” was too tragic to contemplate.
She thrust the negative thought away. She must concentrate on the here and now and getting away from James unscathed both in heart and mind. “Cheers,” she mumbled, feeling it would be for the best if the evening finished before it actually started. She willed Belle to ring, reciting the mantra in her brain; please ring, please ring, please ring…
On cue, James’ mobile rang.
Yes!
“Curse the thing,” he said and switched it off.
Fen opened and shut her mouth a couple of times in mute alarm. “Shouldn’t you answer it?” They’d be stuck here all night if he didn’t answer the wretched phone. Bother, she should have had a Plan B tucked away for such an emergency as this.
James shrugged. “If it’s important, they’ll leave a message.”
Fen took a hefty gulp on wine while she regrouped. Now what? “You’d best have a look to see if they have,” she insisted.
“Relax, Fen.”
Relax? Relax! How could she? Her secret could be discovered any moment and then where would they be? He’d end up feeling sorry for her and showering her with pity and she’d lose her hard-fought desire to be treated as an able-bodied date!
Date. Did she really mean date? They were just sharing a drink. It wasn’t really a proper date. And would it really, really matter if he discovered her infirmity?
Yes! It mattered. This might not be a romantic date but there was a certain amount of swirling vibes going on and she didn’t want to spoil things. At least not yet. She’d have to think of a diversion. She scanned the noisy bar.
People chatted and laughed. Glasses clinked. Music throbbed in a muted beat in the background. None of it inspired her. Try as she might, she couldn’t think how she could escape James without giving the game away.
They were almost to the end of the bottle when they were interrupted by a member of the bar staff. “Mr. McAllister, there’s a call for you.”
Fen almost cheered out loud, feeling a great swell of relief in her churned up tummy, as James followed the staff member to the bar. Belle must have found out from Lynette where she and James were having their drink. Phew. She wondered what excuse Belle had concocted that would make James leave in a hurry? She didn’t have long to wait.
He strode back to their table, his face a set mask. “I’m dreadfully sorry, Fen, but we’ve got to go.”
We? No, that wasn’t in the equation. He had to go!
“What’s happened?” Fen watched him gather up their coats. He held out his hand to assist her to stand. Fen clutched the edge of her seat, her fingernails burying into the upholstery, and tried not to panic.
“My house is on fire,” he
said with amazing calm.
Fen inwardly groaned. Excellent one, Belle! Talk about spinning a yarn that was completely over the top. But Fen was suitably impressed by James’ lack of emotion. If it had been her house going up in smoke, she would have been ranting and raving and yelling fire at the top of her voice.
“Oh no! How dreadful. You’d better hurry. Don’t worry about me. I can easily find my way home.” Was that too glib? She hoped not. But if he was being so laidback about the alleged fire, why couldn’t she?
“I can’t leave you here alone.”
“Sure you can. I came under my own steam and I’m happy to leave the same way.” Bet your bottom dollar, McAllister!
“But that’s not the way I do things.” He continued to hold out his hand.
Fen gripped the seat edge harder, almost taking out chunks of the furry fabric, and swallowed nervously. “Your house fire is far more important than getting me home, really. Go. Go now.” Please!
“Fen!”
“I won’t hold it against you. Honest.”
He hesitated. His brow creased and his mouth was a grim line. “Okay. I’ll ring you.” He leaned over and kissed her hard and briefly on the lips.
His kiss made them tingle. It made her toes tingle. It was power-packed.
“Bye,” he said.
And Fen just mouthed a farewell because her vocal cords had momentarily seized up with the intensity of his embrace.
As soon as he’d gone, Fen hauled out her mobile phone from her coat pocket and rang for a taxi. She then retrieved her crutches. She was safe from James’ probing for a while longer at least, but she wasn’t going to hang around, just in case. A quick visit to the restroom and she’d be gone.
As she returned to the smoky bar, she saw James. Eek! He stood by their table, which was already occupied by another couple, and scanning the haze-filled room, looking for her. Fen ducked back into the Ladies room and stayed there for what seemed like forever.
She then made a hurried exit from the bar and found her waiting taxi.
A while later, James called her at the flat. “There was no fire,” he said.
His voice was calm and measured, and…suspicious. Or was that just Fen’s guilty conscience fanning her imagination? Fen squirmed and twisted the telephone cord around her finger. “Thank goodness. What a relief.”
“I rang the fire department while waiting for the taxi. They knew nothing about it.”
“Gosh.” Good grief, she hadn’t expected him to ring the fire brigade. What sort of man did that? A suspicious one, that’s who.
“So I cancelled the taxi and went back into the bar.”
“Oh.” Fen had a hot flash from top to toe. James was one swift worker. She hadn’t even supposed he’d be back in the bar so fast.
“You’d already gone.”
“Ah.” Fen tried to sound apologetic, but golly, they must have missed each other by seconds. Split seconds, even. She squeezed shut her eyes and did a rapid prayer of thanks.
“That was quick. Would you like to explain?” James still sounded reasonable. Maybe it was only Fen’s guilty conscience that was seeking suspicion in his every nuance.
“Yes. I…er…didn’t think you’d be back.” She tried not to gabble.
“Fen, I was gone less than five minutes.”
Grief, yes, it had been a close call. Good job she hadn’t tarried. “Oh,” she said with pathetic lameness.
“So?” said James. A pregnant pause, the size of a small country, swelled up between them.
“So?” echoed Fen eventually, wondering what was coming next.
“I suppose it’s a bit late for me to come around and finish off our evening.”
Was he asking her or telling her? She couldn’t tell from the timbre of his voice. “It is a bit,” said Fen, biting her lip and wishing things could be different between them.
“Shame.” Real regret colored the word.
“Yes. But good news about the fire. Or lack of it.”
A heart’s beat pause throbbed. “Good night, Fenella Grant.”
He suspected she was behind the false fire call. Fen was sure of it. Oh well, it had been a risk. At least she lived to fight another day.
And she had enjoyed their drink together, very, very much, in spite of the stress of keeping her secret.
****
“Do you want to go shopping, Fen?” Fen’s West Indian neighbor Trish asked two days later, after Fen had returned from her sister’s. “Christmas will soon be upon us, babe, and I’m beginning to panic. I’ve got no stocking fillers for my sweet boys.”
As Trish’s sweet boys were typical teenagers into rap and football and hanging around on street corners, Fen was amused they still had stockings from Santa. But then who was she to laugh? Her mum still gave her a stocking stuffed full of goodies on Christmas morning, too.
“Sounds good to me,” said Fen shutting down her computer where she’d been lining up some pre-Christmas dates for clients. Unfortunately, James McAllister hadn’t been among them. He’d been her only client who hadn’t been clamoring for dates. He hadn’t even called her. She didn’t know whether to feel disappointed or relieved.
“There’s one condition though,” Trish went on. “I want you to go in your wheelchair.”
“But Trish! No way.” Fen hated the wheelchair with a passion. It reminded her of all the months of misery and pain in hospital.
“Hear me out, girl. Since the kiddies have grown up, I’ve really missed the convenience of piling my shopping on a pushchair. Your wheelchair is second best. You got a problem with that?”
“Yes. Buy one of those shopping bags on wheels.”
“What? A roll-around cart! They’re for old people.”
“And you don’t qualify?” joked Fen.
“You’re wicked,” said Trish. “I might be widowed and have two high school kids, but there’s still plenty of life left in me, which is why I joined your matchmaking agency. If you don’t indulge one of your most valued clients, babe, I’m withdrawing my membership.”
Where had Fen heard that one before? In her opinion, her clients were getting much too demanding for comfort. Which was why she should tighten the rules and not sign up friends or get too personal with clients, like James.
Trish good-naturedly hassled her some more, so Fen reluctantly conceded to her request and had to put up with the ignobility of being pushed around the dozens of market stalls set up in the Portobello Road. Actually, riding was easier and less tiring than trying to maneuver with her crutches, but Fen wouldn’t admit it, even to herself.
A couple of hours later, while they were having a hilarious time trying on some garish hats, Fen almost keeled over on the spot when she saw James. Good grief. What on earth was he doing in Portobello Road? The man worked in the city. So why was he in her locality?
Paying no attention to the thronging street market, James strode the pavement in the direction of her home, dodging shoppers and dawdlers alike, as though he was a man on a mission. In one hand he held a brown leather briefcase, in the other a big bunch of dusky pink, shaggy-headed chrysanthemums. And he was getting much too close to where Fen was stuck in her wheelchair. Any moment now and he’d see her.
“Eek,” she squeaked and grabbed a hideous purple hat from the stand. She rammed it on her head, pulling it low over her eyes.
“Doesn’t suit you, babe,” said Trish who whisked off the offending hat, and popped a lime green one on in its place. She stepped back a pace, thrust her hands on her hips and cocked her head on one side. “No, still not you.”
Fen snatched at the green hat before Trish could take it off too and held it close to her scalp, shielding her face as much as possible with the wide floppy brim.
“Hey, girl, what’s got into you? Lime green is so not you. Try orange.”
Fen ignored her and slunk down low in her wheelchair. “Leave me be.”
“You having a turn or something, or just being plain awkward?” asked Trish.
“I don’t want to be seen,” muttered Fen.
“Babe, wearing a bright green hat is not what I’d call camouflage.” Trish gave a shout of laughter and slapped her ample thigh.
“It’s better than nothing.” Fen peeked out from under the felt brim and spotted James’ back view several stalls away. Phew. That had been close. She wrenched off the hat and flung it on the pile of others.
“Hey, lady,” said the stall owner. “You gonna buy that hat after manhandling it, or what?”
“Sorry?” She struggled to concentrate on the man but it wasn’t easy. Her blood was pumping hard from the sudden surge of adrenalin caused by seeing James. She was almost light-headed with relief he’d gone without spotting her.
“The hat, lady. You want it?”
“No.”
“But you’ve stretched the brim. It’s ruined.”
“Oh, come on,” spluttered Fen.
“Make it half price and she will,” said Trish, who always enjoyed a good haggle.
“Daylight robbery. How about a fiver?”
“Done! Pay the man, Fen and then let’s head home. I could murder a coffee,” said Trish trying on the hat herself and preening in front of the mirror.
“Home is not an option,” stated Fen who had no intention of going anywhere near her flat in case James was lurking there. She dug out a five-pound note for the man and handed it over. “Let’s find the nearest café, Trish. My treat.”
“If you’ve got money to burn, girl, that’s fine by me. But I demand to know why you’re suddenly into all the cloak-and-dagger stuff. I smell a good mystery.”
Chapter Five
James rang the doorbell and knocked several times. Obviously Fen wasn’t home. Frustration gnawed deep down. He stared morosely at the pink chrysanthemums. Why did it matter whether or not he saw her? She wasn’t exactly falling over herself to spend time with him. Perhaps he should take the hint.
But, no. He was sure she was as attracted to him as he was to her. He felt it in the air. A special crackle between them when together. He saw it shimmering in her gorgeous blue eyes. He felt it deep in his heart…
Mind, he’d been certain she’d been behind the crank fire call. But why? What was the point? She only had to say she didn’t want to go out with him. He wouldn’t force her. But he wondered if that was the case. He sensed she was more interested in him than she cared to admit, to him and maybe herself. Or perhaps she simply liked playing psychological games? It raised the stakes, made the dating game more interesting.
THE DATING GAME Page 5