by Jill Mansell
He was being deliberately maddening, Maddy decided. “And? That doesn’t prove anything.”
“Oh my God,” whispered Juliet, her hand sliding from Maddy’s shoulder. “Oh no, please don’t say what I think you’re going to say.”
Her dark eyes were fixed on Jake, willing him to come up with a happier alternative. Signaling regret, he shook his head.
“What?” Maddy demanded. “What?”
Faintly, Juliet said, “It was me.”
“WHAT?”
“The wrappers didn’t prove you were having an affair with Kerr McKinnon,” said Jake, “but they were certainly enough to bring Marcella down here, demanding to know what this deli was doing supplying sandwiches to his company, when just the other day you swore you had no idea where he worked.”
“I’m sorry.” Juliet groaned. “The way Marcella said it, I thought she already knew everything.”
“Oh hell.” Maddy buried her head in her hands. “I don’t believe this is happening.”
“I’m really sorry,” Juliet repeated helplessly.
“Not you. It was an accident. I suppose something like this was bound to happen sooner or later.” Maddy reached across and clumsily hugged Juliet, who was looking utterly distraught. “I just can’t bear the thought of having to apologize to Miss Smirky Pants.”
“You’re going to have to,” Jake said, and so reasonably that Maddy longed to punch him.
Abruptly, all the adrenaline seeped out of her body and delayed shock set in. Her eyes filling with tears of exhaustion, she said, “I know I do. Oh fuck.”
Chapter 30
Kate was doing her best to carry on working, but it wasn’t going well. Aware of Dexter’s beady gaze upon her, she fumbled in the till drawer for change and handed it over to Abel Trippick, whose eyes promptly widened with delight. As he scuttled away from the bar clutching his pint of Blackthorn, Dexter said, “You just gave him eight quid change from a fiver.”
“Sorry.” Swallowing hard, Kate began clearing away empties. “I’ll pay you back.”
“I thought you were more than a match for Maddy Harvey.”
“So did I. Oh God—” Kate made a grab for one of the half-pint mugs as it slipped out of her hand, but it was too late. The glass shattered on the flagstones and she braced herself for the inevitable explosion of fury from Dexter.
Instead, his tone conversational, Dexter said, “If I shout at you, will you shout back?”
Blindly, Kate shook her head. “No.” It came out as a croak, like a frog phoning in sick.
“Oh well, no point in bothering then. Shift your bottom,” Dexter said brusquely, and tears began to slide down Kate’s cheeks as she realized he was kneeling down, wielding a dustpan and brush and clearing up the mess.
Then she jumped as a warm hand came to rest on her arm and a familiar voice said, “Hey, it’s all right.”
Could have fooled me, thought Kate as Jake peered over the bar and said to Dexter, “It’s almost closing time. OK if I take this one home with me?”
Dexter straightened up. Finally he shrugged. “May as well. She’s not much use here.”
“Who says I want to go home with you?” Kate looked truculent, but it was a token show of protest. Flashing a grin, Jake raised the wooden flap that formed part of the bar and drew her through to his side.
“OK, here’s the thing. Maddy shouldn’t have shouted at you. She knows she has to apologize, but she’s in a bit of a state right now, what with everything hitting the fan the way it did. So if you wouldn’t mind, she’d like to make her groveling apologies later.” As he spoke, he was leading her toward the door.
Kate asked suspiciously, “So why are you taking me home?”
“Because damsels in distress are my specialty. Besides”—Jake gestured over the road to where Malcolm was now sitting with a sketch pad outside his workshop—“any excuse for an afternoon off.”
* * *
Dauncey House was cool and empty, with Oliver up in London as usual and Estelle off on one of her periodic halfhearted health and fitness kicks. This involved paying a visit to the ruinously expensive gym to which she belonged, gingerly attempting a few exercises on the less terrifying machines, then greeting her female friends with delight, and repairing to the terrace for a good gossip over salad and a Diet Coke. Since this left them feeling every bit as virtuous as two hours on the treadmill and involved far less sweating, it was a popular pastime among the wealthy wives who went there during the afternoon. Estelle was unlikely to be back before five.
“Hey, damsel, you’ve got mascara on your cheeks.”
They were in the kitchen. Kate instinctively made a move toward the downstairs cloakroom to wash her face, but Jake stopped her. Running a piece of kitchen towel under the tap, he drew her toward him and gently rubbed at the black marks under her eyes. Realizing that he was removing the carefully applied scar concealer at the same time, Kate tried to pull away, but Jake shook his head and said, “Don’t be silly. It’s fine. You’re not as scary as you think.”
He was so close to her now. She couldn’t bring herself to look at his face, but he smelled of shampoo and outdoors and, very faintly, acrylic varnish. Kate was under his spell. She normally removed her mascara with Clinique cleanser at twenty quid a tube and supersoft cotton wool pads. Yet here was Jake Harvey rubbing away at her delicate under-eye areas with a wad of wet kitchen towel—and she didn’t want him to stop.
“Not as tough as you like to make out either,” Jake observed and she felt her throat tighten. He was being so kind.
“It’s not much fun being accused of something you didn’t do.” Kate shook her head. “I would never have told Marcella.”
“I know that.”
“But Maddy didn’t. That’s what really got to me, I think. She seriously thought I had. I mean, I know we don’t get on,” Kate blurted out, “but I wouldn’t risk Marcella losing the baby, would I? I’d never do that!”
“Damsel, calm down. I told you, Maddy’s going to apologize. She’s not having the best time right now. Hell, none of us are having the best time.” Jake rolled his eyes. “Let me tell you, it’s no picnic sharing a house with Nuala. When she isn’t bleating on about Dexter and how she’s never going to get another boyfriend, she’s asking me to help her on with her sneakers. It’s like living with a three-year-old all over again.”
Kate felt a pang of solidarity with Nuala. She often wondered if she’d ever find another boyfriend herself.
“Anyway, how about you?” asked Jake, changing the subject as they made their way through to the conservatory. “You’ve been back a few weeks now. Looks to me as though you’ve settled right in.”
“Kind of,” Kate conceded. Certainly, she’d never imagined herself working in the pub and, more astounding still, actually enjoying it.
“You’re a natural behind that bar.” Collapsing onto one of the squashy lime-green sofas, Jake patted the space next to him. “I bet you never thought it would be that easy to get back to normal.”
“Normal?” Kate’s laughter was hollow. How could he possibly think her life was back to normal?
“Isn’t it? Oh, come on,” Jake protested, “you’re doing brilliantly. Nobody in the pub even notices your scars anymore.”
“My accident happened fourteen months ago. I haven’t been kissed by a man since then, let alone had sex with one. How normal do you suppose that feels?” The moment she’d finished blurting the words out, Kate wished she hadn’t. What’s more, how on earth could Jake be expected to have an inkling how it felt? He’d probably never gone without sex for as long as fourteen days.
He was definitely looking flummoxed.
“Sorry.” Kate gazed at the floor. “Shouldn’t have said that.”
“Are you serious? Nothing at all? Not even in New York?”
Ha, especially in New York.
“I think I’d have noticed.”
“But why not?” Jake was genuinely concerned.
“Why d’you think? Who’d look at my face and be overcome with lust?” Irritated, Kate said, “People see my scars and they run a mile.”
“Wrong.” Jake was shaking his head.
“Don’t patronize me. I know what I look like.”
“People see you with your defenses up, snapping and snarling and not giving an inch, and that’s why they run a mile. Trust me, it’s not your face that scares them off,” Jake said bluntly. “It’s you.”
“Well, thanks.” Kate’s jaw tightened.
“Just being honest, damsel.” Unperturbed by her frosty manner, Jake said mischievously, “So, feel like giving it a go?”
Kate stopped breathing. She actually felt her lungs freeze in midflow.
“What?”
His eyes danced. “You heard.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Of course you do.”
Kate was tingling all over with furious indignation. How dare Jake suggest such a thing? This was outrageous…and what exactly did he mean, anyway? Was he talking about a kiss or…well, other stuff?
Oh, good grief. What would that be like? Lust shot through her like a bolt of lightning. And all the time Jake was sitting there watching her, utterly relaxed and laid-back, smiling his irresistible boyish smile. In all seriousness, what did he expect her to say?
“Fine. I’ll take that as a no then.” Jake shrugged good-naturedly and Kate heard a squeak of protest escape—completely involuntarily—from her throat.
“Or maybe…a maybe?” said Jake.
Kate’s cheeks began to burn. In fact, her whole body felt as if it were on fire, and her imagination was working on fast forward. This was excruciating, and now she really was going to have to say something.
“Er…I didn’t know what you meant exactly.” Floundering, she saw Jake’s mouth twitch.
His oh-so-beautiful mouth, so perfect it looked as if it had been chiseled from marble.
“You mean was I talking about kissing you? Or the whole bed thing?”
Trust Jake to come straight out and say it. Her toes practically bent double with embarrassment, Kate nodded.
“Well, that’s completely up to you. Whatever you decide. Or,” Jake offered, “we could start off with a kiss and see how you feel.”
Kate’s heart was hammering against her ribs. She already knew how she felt. Then an awful thought struck her.
“And you’d want money?”
Jake smiled and shook his head. “Damsel, I’m not a gigolo. I don’t charge.”
“So, um, why are you doing this?”
His smile broadened. “I’m not volunteering to empty cesspits here. It’s hardly an arduous task we’re talking about. I love sex. You’re a beautiful girl with a hang-up about your face who hasn’t had sex for over a year. I mean, I didn’t have a university education, but isn’t there a simple solution here?”
Oh God, oh God. Kate was lost for words. Staring blindly at the black-and-white-tiled floor, she felt Jake’s hand stroke the back of her neck.
“I like you,” he said softly. “Believe me, it wouldn’t be an ordeal. It would be a pleasure.”
After that, everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Since Norris was outside in the backyard and the sight of him pressing his slobbering jowls against the conservatory windows just might kill the moment, Kate led Jake upstairs to her room. Trembling, she allowed him to undress her. And kiss her. And run his hands over her naked body. And make love to her.
He was right too, about it not being an ordeal. The next two hours were nothing but glorious Technicolored pleasure.
Chapter 31
“Right. Fun’s over.” Fastening his shirt, Jake bent over the bed and planted a warm, lingering kiss on Kate’s mouth. “Back to the real world. Orders to take, caskets to deliver.”
Feeling bereft already, Kate said, “Malcolm’s looking after the business. You don’t have to go.”
Was that needy? She didn’t care.
“I do.” Jake kissed her again. “Have to pick Sophie up. You were amazing. What a way to spend an afternoon.”
Needy was one thing but begging quite another. Resisting the almost uncontrollable urge to ask when she’d see him again, Kate smiled and stretched like a cat.
“You were pretty amazing yourself.” She couldn’t stop smiling, actually. Great waves of happiness kept swooshing over her. She hadn’t known it was possible to feel this fantastic.
“Good.” Jake straightened up and headed for the door. “I’ll let myself out. And don’t forget, Maddy’ll be around later.”
“Maddy.” Kate pulled a face.
“Hey, she’s sorry. And she’s having a tough time. Go easy on her,” Jake said gently.
He blew her a kiss and left.
Hmm. Settling back against the mass of pillows, Kate pictured herself going easy on Maddy Harvey.
Oh yes, and pigs might perform aerial acrobatics.
Then again, then again…
By five thirty, Kate had had a major rethink. It was completely ridiculous, carrying on a childhood feud for no other reason than that each of them was too stubborn to apologize. It made matters awkward whenever their paths crossed. Neither of them stood to gain anything from it. The only mature, sensible thing to do, surely, was to forgive Maddy and heal the rift.
Plus, she was Jake’s sister.
* * *
Saying sorry to Kate Taylor-Trent should have been an excruciating prospect, but nothing was as bad as having to phone Kerr to tell him it was over, that from now on they wouldn’t see each other anymore, ever again.
“Ever?” Kerr queried. “How about next year, after the baby’s born? Couldn’t we try again then?”
Maddy heaved a sigh. She’d thought of that too. But what were the chances of Kerr still being interested and available then? By next year, any girl with an ounce of sense would have snapped him up.
More importantly, he’d still be a McKinnon. Nothing in the world could change that. Some families, Maddy knew, fought like cats and dogs. She’d seen enough episodes of Jerry Springer to know that plenty of mothers and daughters hurled abuse at each other and didn’t care how much pain they caused because they genuinely couldn’t stand the sight of each other. They were happy to be estranged, living their own separate lives, carrying on without exchanging so much as a word for years.
But she could never do that to Marcella. They may not be related by blood, but Marcella had devoted her life to her stepchildren, and they’d loved and adored her in return. Becoming estranged simply wasn’t an option.
“I can’t,” said Maddy, her chest aching with suppressed grief. “We can’t. I’m sorry. I just…”
“Can’t.” Kerr finished the sentence she was incapable of finishing herself. “OK, I understand. Take care. Bye.”
“Bye,” Maddy whispered, but the line had already gone dead.
That was it, all over.
Done.
* * *
“Gosh, this is a surprise!” Estelle, answering the front door of Dauncey House, was clearly bemused by the sight of Maddy on her doorstep. Then her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh no, not bad news. Something hasn’t happened to—”
“Mum’s fine,” Maddy said quickly. “Nothing’s happened to the baby. I’m here to see, um, Kate. Is she around?”
Still mystified, Estelle said, “Well, yes, but she’s in the bath. Why don’t you wait in the sitting room and I’ll tell her you’re here.”
“It’s all right,” came a voice from the top of the staircase, causing both Estelle and Maddy to turn and look up. “I already know.”
Straight from the bath, wearing an ivory silk nightgown and with her dark hair slicked back fr
om her face, Kate led the way into the sitting room. It was the first time Maddy had seen her without makeup. Minus the concealing foundation, her scars were more noticeable—that went without saying—but the effect wasn’t as shocking as she’d imagined. With her renewed air of confidence, Kate was somehow managing to carry it off.
“Sit down,” said Kate. “Drink?”
Maddy shook her head. As soon as she’d said what she’d come to say, she was out of here.
“No thanks, I’m fine. Look, we both know what this is about,” Maddy blurted out. “I’m sorry, OK? Really and truly sorry. First I accused Nuala of telling Jake about me and Kerr, and I was wrong. Then I accused you of telling Marcella and that was wrong too. You’d think I’d have learned my lesson by now, wouldn’t you? Anyway, I apologize. From the bottom of my heart. I should never have said it, and I’m sorry you were upset.” Trailing off with a helpless shrug, Maddy forced herself to meet Kate’s stony gaze. “That’s it really. I’m just sorry.”
Silence.
Finally Kate said, “OK. Apology accepted. But you were lying about one thing.”
Oh God. A wave of exhaustion swept through Maddy. She simply wasn’t up to a heated debate.
“What was I lying about?”
“You said, ‘No thanks, I’m fine,’ and it isn’t true. You look terrible,” Kate went on with characteristic bluntness. “You’re as white as a ghost—and look at your eyes. You’re in a complete state.”
“Well, thanks.” Delighted to have this pointed out to her, Maddy retorted, “And who says ghosts are white anyway? They don’t all go around with sheets over their heads, you know.”
Unbelievable. In less than a minute flat, they were sniping at each other again like a pair of twelve-year-olds. Once upon a time, of course, they had used white sheets to dress up as ghosts on Halloween night and wreak havoc around the village.
Astonishingly, instead of launching into a counterattack, Kate’s tone softened.
“Don’t take offense. I’m just saying it’s pretty obvious you aren’t fine. And I’m sorry too, OK? For the hard time I gave you years ago. Ridgelow Hall may have taught me how to speak like an It Girl and flirt in Italian, but it turned me into a right stuck-up little bitch. I’m not proud of the way I treated you.” As she spoke, Kate’s fingers were clenching and unclenching in her lap. “I said some really horrible things about the way you looked… Well, I’m sure you remember.”