THE DATING GAME

by Stephanie Anne Street

  Tentatively, Fen removed her hand and looked at it. Thank goodness, there was no blood. A gaping wound on top of the sick pain would have been the pits. But her stomach still churned and a few more moments passed before she gathered enough reserve to crawl to the door.

  With great determination, she hauled herself to her feet. Favoring her stronger leg, she balanced and opened the door to the cabbie, preparing to send him away. There was no way she would go out now. Intense, pounding pain in both her eye and leg made her feel she was going to throw up at any moment. She flung open the door.

  Her breath caught in her throat. Instead of the cabbie standing on the steps, it was James.

  “Good lord, Fen, what’s happened?” he blurted out, scooping her into the circle of his arms, holding her warm and secure against his chest.

  Fen experienced a split moment of disbelief, followed by sheer panic, which then gave way to relief. She was safe. She sagged against him and the floodgates opened and she sobbed into his shoulder.

  “The taxi…” she managed to say through her tears. “He’s waiting.”

  “I’ve sent him off. As we’re going to the same party, I thought we could go together.”

  “Same party?” She could barely concentrate on what he was saying. The effort of standing sent the pain riding over her and through her. Sweat prickled on her dampened skin and blackness pressed in, ready to engulf her. She knew the symptoms: she was going to faint.

  James’ voice came from a long way off, “Gail’s party, right? But what’s happened?” He pulled back to look at her.

  She still shielded her eye but the effort to keep upright was almost killing her. “I fell and hit my eye. You’re going to Gail’s?” She tried to sound coherent but struggled to keep functioning, and she staggered as the nausea and blackness rode her hard.

  “Forget the party. Let’s look at your eye.” He began to move her away from the door.

  Her leg could stand the strain no longer and buckled. The darkness caved in.

  James caught her before she fell. “You’ve injured your leg too?”

  His distant, muffled voice sounded as if he was a long, long way away. She nodded, her eyes full of tears, her teeth biting down hard on her lower lip so she wouldn’t cry out. “Feel faint,” she managed to mumble at last.

  “Hell, Fen. Put your head between your knees.” He had her on the floor and was pushing her head down. The pain in her eye was awful, but the blood flow soon returned to her brain.

  “Better?” said James after a space of several minutes.

  She nodded, not trusting her voice.

  “Well, let’s get you more comfortable.” He picked her up and carried her through to the living room, placing her on the couch, being careful not to jar her. “I’ll go and get a cold cloth. You stay put.”

  As if she could move, thought Fen with black bitterness. Where was the stick? It must have skidded under the chair. Thank goodness the crutches were out of sight in the bedroom. But those facts were all incidental. She had to fight this pain before it consumed her and reduced her to a blubbering wreck.

  “Do you want a cold press for your leg too?” he asked when he came back and knelt beside her.

  “No.” She shivered and pressed a hand to her mouth. “A bucket,” she demanded. “Quick. Under the sink. I’m going to be sick.”

  James raced off. There was the sound of cupboard doors opening and slamming. He was back in a few seconds and pressed the bucket into her arms.

  Not Fen’s finest moment, but she was beyond caring. At least after vomiting, she felt a little better. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

  James retrieved the bucket. “No problem, sweetheart.” He stroked her cheek. “I’m glad I was here for you. That must have been some fall you took.” He lifted the flannel and studied her eye. “You’re going to have a shiner. It’s already turning purple.”

  “Probably looks worse than it is. My eye-shadow is mauve.” She gave a weak, watery laugh.

  “Well, it might explain some of the technicolor, but the eye still looks bad.”

  Feeling rather embarrassed, she said, “I’ll be okay. Honest.”

  “I’m not so sure. How about I take you to casualty and have you checked out?”

  “No. No hospitals,” she said quickly, panic underscoring her words.

  “Don’t like hospitals, eh? Not that I can blame you. But I do think we should get you looked at.”

  “No, James, please. You’d better get off to Gail’s party or you’ll miss all the fun.” First Lucinda’s party, now Gail’s. Fen was so glad she’d introduced him to her friends! There was no avoiding him on this year’s Christmas party circuit.

  “If you think I’m leaving you, think again.”

  “But I’ll be fine.” She attempted to smile, but she could feel her lips wobble, so she waved him away with her hand. “I’ll take a couple of painkillers and head to bed. I really don’t feel like being social.”

  “Do you have any tablets?”

  Did she have tablets! She told him where they were.

  James headed for her medicine cabinet in the bathroom. He came back with a packet of painkillers in one hand and a glass of water in the other. “You’ve got a stack of medication back there. Are you thinking of opening your own drug dispensing service?” he asked as he watched her swallow the white pills.

  Oh no. Fen had forgotten her place resembled a pharmacy. She’d tried not to use them, hence such a buildup. James must think her a total disaster. “I like to be prepared,” she improvised. “Feel free to go now. I’ll just rest here.”

  James took the cold pack off her eye. “I’m not leaving. You might have concussion or something. People don’t throw up after a small fall. I’m not taking any chances.”

  “My pain threshold isn’t very good. I’m a sook.”

  “Sook or not, I’m not going.”

  “Please,” she whimpered. “I just want to sleep. Reaction to the fall, I guess.” Go, just go, she wailed inwardly.

  James compressed his lips and stared for a moment. “I’ll compromise,” he said eventually. “I’ll get you to bed and then see how you are once you’re safely tucked in for the night. I don’t want you keeling over again on that gammy leg. You may do yourself some further damage.”

  Gammy leg? He knew! Fen’s heart sank. But then she realized he meant the leg she’d just fallen on. Phew.

  James carried her through to the bedroom and laid her on the double bed. He quirked an eyebrow. “Need a hand getting changed?” he asked.

  She heard the humorous inflexion in his voice. “I can manage from now on,” she replied and was disgusted to hear the words tremble. His touch was causing her body to tremble too. It had nothing on an aspen leaf in a stiff lakeside breeze. Hopefully James wouldn’t realize his affect on her, or if he did, he would think it was pain-induced.

  “Okay, for modesty’s sake, I shall leave the room while you get into your night things. Once you’re in your PJs, I’m coming back to make sure you’re comfortable.”

  Comfortable? How could she be comfortable with her eye and leg throbbing with pain, her body throbbing with desire and her heart throbbing with love?

  Fast as she could, she dragged on her Garfield pajamas and crawled under the covers only seconds before James returned.

  He tucked her bedclothes more firmly around her. “Is your leg okay? Do you want me to raise it up on a pillow?” he asked, looking around for a spare one. “I could get a cushion from the living room.”

  “No, the leg’s fine for now.”

  “Good.” He sat on the bed. He picked up her hand and held it for a long moment, absently stroking his thumb across her fingers. “I want to stay and care for you,” he said with quiet deliberation.

  Fen would have liked nothing better. But no. He would discover her secret. Be strong, Fen, she admonished herself, or all would be lost. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll be fine. Give my love to Gail and the others.”

  “What do
you take me for?” He smacked his palm against his thigh in a burst of self-righteous pique. “I’m not callous. I’ll be giving the party a miss.”

  “Not on my account,” she protested.

  “It was on your account I was going in the first place, sweetheart. Just like Lucinda’s. There’s no other reason for attending but you.” The spurt of frustration died. He reached over and kissed her on the nose. “Sleep well, Ms. Grant.”

  In spite of the wakeful combination of proximity to James and his kiss, the painkillers began to work and soon Fen fell into a fitful sleep.

  She awoke in the early hours of the morning with her leg and hip pounding with excruciating pain. The tablets had worn off. If there was any chance of sleep, she’d have to take more. She tried to get out of bed and stifled a cry as red-hot pokers of pain sliced through her. Tears poured down her cheeks and dripped off her chin.

  “Fen, darling?” James was by her side in an instant.

  Fen clutched at his body.

  “What’s up, honey?” he implored her. “Tell me.”

  “Pain…need painkillers.” She gave him the name of her strongest ones. “Need them now,” she gasped out.

  He was gone and back in seconds.

  Fen swallowed the tablets and allowed James to lay her back on the pillows.

  He held her hand and stroked her brow. “You sure you don’t want to go to hospital?” he probed.

  Fen couldn’t mistake the worried concern in his voice.

  “I think it’d be best, darling.”

  “I’m never going back there,” she said with a thick grogginess caused by the strong medication. “Especially not at Christmas.”

  ****

  James continued caressing Fen’s brow with light, gentle strokes. All the while he studied her sleeping form. She was so young and pale and so very vulnerable in her cat pajamas and spiked hair. Her eye was deepening to blues and mauves that had nothing to do with her party make-up. Poor Fen. He wished he could take away her pain.

  Fen’s breathing became more regular and she slept. James ceased his stroking. He then spent the rest of the night on the floor next to her bed, wrapped in a blanket, in case she needed him.

  Chapter Eight

  James had to go early next morning. He bristled at leaving Fen alone. She looked terrible with her swollen, blue eye and snow-white cheeks.

  But Fen assured him she would ring Trish, her neighbor, if necessary. “I’m feeling much better,” she insisted. “I’ll be fine. Trish will look after me.”

  He didn’t like the situation, but Fen was adamant.

  Half an hour later, James reached his office, his mood black and morose. It was the last day before Christmas and he had several deals he wanted to get signed, sealed and delivered before everyone shut down for the holiday season.

  “You’re tetchy this morning,” said Val. “You’re acting like a grumpy bear who’s lost his honey pot.”

  James huffed and offered as an excuse, “I didn’t sleep much.”

  “That’s Christmas for you.”

  “I wasn’t partying.” He filled his mug with coffee from the percolator on the sideboard and loaded it with sugar.

  “I see.”

  There was a wealth of innuendo behind Valerie Lucas’ statement and her grin was saucy, as if she suspected him of extracurricular activities of the adult kind. “No you don’t, Val. I was caring for a sick friend.”

  “Very good, King Wenceslas,” she said. “I’m impressed.”

  “Quit the quips. We’ve a lot of work to get through today. Any messages?”

  “Yes, your sister expects you at seven for her drinks party. She also said to remind you you’re not allowed to drink because it’s your turn to drive everyone to Midnight Mass.”

  James inwardly groaned. Another dratted party to endure. “Great,” he said without a glimmer of enthusiasm.

  “And Chrissy Heinz wants you to return her call. She’s extending invitations to some Christmas functions.”

  This time James groaned aloud. “Any good news?”

  Valerie raised her brows. She was used to the coming and going of women in James’ life. “I don’t know. You tell me if this is good news or not. A Fenella Grant rang to say she’s going away for Christmas and thank you for last night.” The saucy grin flashed back and she winked. “So? Good or bad?”

  James scowled and pursed his lips.

  There was a pregnant pause. “The jury’s out on that one, I see,” and Valerie started to hum Good King Wenceslas.

  James gave her the evil eye and asked, “Did Fenella say where she was going?”

  “No. I don’t usually give your lady friends the third degree.”

  Irritation ran over his thoughts. Ms. Grant was being evasive. Again. “When did she ring?”

  “Five minutes before you walked in.”

  James snatched up the phone and hit the speed dial.

  Valerie waggled her eyebrows as she made her way towards her office. “I thought we had lots of work to do?”

  “We do. But this takes precedence.” He frowned as Fen’s answer phone picked up the call. He hung up and called again and again. But either Fen wasn’t answering or she had already gone.

  Buzzing through to Valerie’s office, James asked, “Val, could you get me Lynette Shaw’s number?” He furnished her with the address. “And make it fast.”

  “Yes, boss.”

  She came in two minutes later and handed him the number. “And don’t forget to ring Ms. Heinz,” she reminded him.

  James called Lynette. Like Fen, she wasn’t answering. He’d try again later. He then sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose, sighed again and then reluctantly rang Chrissy.

  “Why haven’t you called me during the past two weeks?” she demanded.

  Her childish petulance irritated James. “I’m sorry, Chrissy, I’ve been busy.” He tried to exercise patience. It wasn’t her fault he didn’t want to see her.

  “So have I. I’ve had all these parties I wanted you to come to but you never returned my calls. I had to go alone.”

  “I’m sure you had other friends who could have escorted you.”

  “Yes, but that’s not the point. I wanted you. I thought we were a couple.”

  “Not exclusively, Chrissy. You knew that right from the start.” He drummed his fingers on the desk. The only exclusive dating he wanted was with Fenella Grant.

  “But we look good together, James. I prefer dating you to anyone else.”

  With determination, he hung on to his patience, fingers drumming a louder and faster tattoo. “I’m flattered, but I won’t be seeing you again. I’m sorry, but I’ve become involved with someone else, and it’s serious.”

  “You are kidding, right?”

  “No, I mean it. We’re over.” He rubbed his tired eyes and wished Chrissy would accept his decision gracefully and end the call.

  “You’d dump me for a cripple?”

  Her shrill, accusing voice reverberated down the line and made him wince. “I beg your pardon?” He massaged the back of his stiff and aching neck. Sleeping on Fen’s floor and done him no favors, excepting the joy of being close to her. His mind veered back to Fen and her whereabouts. Where the hell had she gone?

  Chrissy screeched in his ear. “You heard me. You’d rather go out with a scarred cripple than a model. You must be losing it, James!”

  He stopped massaging. “What are you going on about?”

  “One of my friends said she saw you with that disabled girl from Cats.” A harsh laugh sounded. “I didn’t believe them, but I guess it must be true.”

  “What disabled girl?” he said in exasperation. “And I don’t know anyone who was in Cats. I haven’t even seen the show, for goodness sake and I certainly don’t know any dancers.”

  “You are such a lousy liar, James. But never mind, when you get fed up with imperfection, you know where to find me. Merry Christmas.”

  James stared at the humming receiver, perplexe
d, and replaced it in its cradle. What was Chrissy going on about? She must have got her wires crossed somewhere along the line. And as for imperfection, nothing was imperfect about his gorgeous Fen.

  ****

  James was hideously late for his sister’s party. He went up the backstairs of Annabelle’s house and dumped his coat and suitcase on the bed. He was in no hurry to join the party and so took his time having a long, hot shower before tugging on black jeans and a dark green sweater. When he could delay no longer, he went downstairs.

  The drawing room was crowded. There weren’t quite so many people as his birthday party, but it was still a sizeable squeeze. Annabelle was addicted to socializing, he decided, and pitied his long-suffering brother-in-law. There was the summer blonde and one of his aunts, a couple of cousins and several old friends standing around the inglenook fireplace drinking what looked like mulled wine. In a far corner, Lynette and her husband were deep in conversation with the vicar and two elderly women in matching blue twin-sets.

  Seeing Lynette lightened his mood considerably. Maybe he would discover how Fen was and where she was staying for Christmas. He desperately wanted to see Fen, hold her, kiss her, love her. James felt displaced without her and very alone. He’d hoped to have contacted Fen and invite her to the party. Or, if she was still suffering from her fall, just stay with her, be close to her.

  “James, you’ve finally made it,” said his sister, giving him a robust kiss and dragging him through the crowd. “Grab yourself some food. You must be ravenous. And of course, a drink. But only one and not the mulled wine because you’re the driver tonight, remember?”

  “What’s wrong with your famous wine? I was looking forward to sampling some,” said James, casting a glance in the direction of a knot of loudly talking and laughing imbibers.

  Annabelle’s expression turned smug. “I think I’ve excelled myself this year.”

  “I see.” And James did. Annabelle’s mulled wine was legendary. “Some other time, then.”

  “There’s plenty of fruit punch. But get yourself some food first.” Annabelle shoved a plate into his hands.