Off the Record

by Rose, Alison

  ‘Tough, huh?’

  ‘Tougher than I ever imagined,’ she agreed. ‘If it hadn’t have been for David, I doubt I would have survived it.’

  ‘Your husband? Kate told me a little about him. He was a priest too, right?’

  ‘Yes. I met him when I was nursing my grandmother. He was the curate in our parish, and used to come to visit Gran and pray with her. We became friends, and he was wonderfully supportive when she died. He tried to talk me out of working at the shelter, but I felt I had to do it. It was almost as though I needed to test myself; to see if I could make a difference to the suffering of others after I’d failed to stop Gran’s suffering.’ She had also been deeply depressed after hearing that Johnson had married a model he’d met in California, but she wasn’t about to admit that to him now.

  Johnson sensed she didn’t want to talk about those years any more. Or perhaps, he acknowledged, he didn’t want to hear how she had fallen in love with her late husband. He knew it was selfish to have wanted her to have stayed the way she was when he’d known her, to have stayed in love with him, especially when he’d launched himself so thoughtlessly into marriage with another woman. He looked at her, lounging comfortably amongst the cushions, her bare feet tucked under her, her head resting back against the sofa, eyes closed. He leaned closer, his lips just a breath away from her cheek.

  ‘Are you falling asleep on me?’ he whispered.

  She didn’t move, but smiled softly. ‘Just resting my eyes,’ she replied.

  He kissed her cheek softly. ‘Sorry,’ he said when she opened her eyes. ‘I couldn’t resist.’ He leaned back, studying her face. ‘Even after all these years, I find I can’t look at you without wanting to kiss you. I’ve missed you, Sandy. You were my first love, but you were my best friend too. I’ve never felt as comfortable with anyone as I do with you. That hasn’t changed. How the hell did we lose each other?’

  ‘We just weren’t meant to be, Johnson. God had other plans for us. You had your music, and I had my duty to Gran, and then to God. Maybe seeing each other again now is our reward for doing the right thing then.’

  ‘Has your duty been enough for you? I mean, I don’t really understand what motivates someone to give their life to God.’

  She thought for a moment. ‘I suppose the best way to explain it is to ask you how you would manage without music in your life. If you couldn’t sing, or create music, how would you feel?’

  ‘I couldn’t imagine,’ he admitted. ‘I have to have music around me. It is my life. It’s who I am.’

  ‘And I can’t imagine my life without being able to serve God,’ she explained. ‘He feeds my spirit, gives my life colour and meaning. That’s who I am.’

  Johnson was silent, thinking about what she’d said. ‘And you have to do that in a village in Wiltshire?’

  ‘So far, yes. But forever? I don’t know. I don’t think so. I’m not sure where God is calling me to next. But I’ve a feeling that he’ll let me know soon enough.’

  ‘And in the meantime, is there a chance for us?’

  ‘I don’t know that either, Johnson,’ she sighed. ‘But I do know that we’ve been blessed with some time together now, and I don’t want to waste it.’ She reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘Will you kiss me?’

  He stroked her cheek, rubbing his thumb gently across her lips.

  ‘I want to, but I’m afraid it won’t be enough,’ he admitted.

  ‘I have that fear too. But the fear of you not kissing me is greater.’

  With a groan he gathered her in his arms and kissed her with all the longing in his aching heart.

  When they came up for air long minutes later, she was laughing.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ He asked, a little disgruntled. He didn’t usually reduce a woman to helpless giggles.

  ‘Oh Johnson!’ she gasped. ‘I just had the most ridiculous thought! Before, we were always worried that your parents or my host family would walk in and catch us kissing on the sofa. Now I’m worried that our children will do the same!’

  Johnson stared at her for a moment, his desire still blazing in his eyes. Then with a sigh he recognised the absurdity – and truth – of what she said. With an effort he banked the fires, but they refused to be totally extinguished. She was as beautiful now as she’d ever been, and he wanted her, in his life and in his bed. ‘Oh man!’ he complained, teasing her by leaning forward and nibbling on the smooth sweet skin of her cheek. ‘Does that mean we have to stick to just necking? Can’t we …?’

  She raised a hand to stroke his firm jaw, feeling the rasp of his beard and enjoying his warm breath on her face. ‘Not this time,’ she confirmed.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Kate and Paul arrived at the hotel at almost three in the morning.

  ‘Goodness,’ said Kate. ‘This is posh.’

  ‘Yeah, it’s not bad, huh? Apparently it was owned by some lord’s family for a few centuries.’

  Kate could see from the hushed lobby that the original features of the house had been preserved for the enjoyment of the hotel’s exclusive clientele.

  ‘I’d better find out which room Mum and I are in.’

  Paul held up two key cards. ‘I’ve got yours here. You wanna go up, or will you join me for a nightcap?’

  ‘Well, I ought to get some sleep, but I’m not very tired at the moment. Maybe a hot drink?’

  ‘Sounds good.’

  Kate followed Paul into the library, where they sank into high-backed leather armchairs and the night porter brought them mugs of steaming cocoa.

  ‘Mmm! Chocolate! What more could a girl want?’ she closed her eyes and savoured the first sip.

  ‘That’s it? Just chocolate?’ he asked. ‘Not diamonds, or fame, or riches beyond your wildest dreams?’

  ‘Diamonds are only bits of carbon – it’s the reason that they’re given that makes them important. Fame? Well, you tell me about that one. I don’t fancy it myself. And riches beyond my wildest dreams?’ She thought for a moment then shook her head. ‘Nah!’

  He laughed. ‘Nah?’

  She took another sip of cocoa. ‘Would they make this cocoa taste any better? If not, then what’s the point? I’m happy with what I’ve got, thanks.’

  ‘Sounds fair,’ he nodded and raised his drink in salute. ‘To chocolate.’

  ‘In all its glorious forms,’ she agreed.

  ‘So you’re really not pining for riches?’ he asked a few minutes later.

  ‘Nope. I just want to be able to live comfortably within my means and enjoy life with my family and friends. Oh, and be good at my job.’ She looked at him, assessing. He continued to drink his cocoa, meeting her gaze, waiting. Kate suddenly felt nervous. He’s not going to make this easy. ‘And talking of my job, will you tell me how you felt about performing tonight?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Why on earth not? ‘

  ‘Just write the story you were going to write, Kate. A fan’s eye view of the gig, with a couple of nice quotes from your mom and your impressions of watching in the crowd.’

  ‘I will. But I can’t ignore the fact that you played, Paul. It’s a big deal.’

  He groaned. ‘Kate, just leave it, OK? It didn’t matter. Ignore it.’

  ‘Oh, no you don’t, Brand! Thousands of people saw you on that stage tonight, and I have a column to write. I can’t just ignore this. Every other journalist there will be sure to make a big deal out of it. Give me a break!’

  ‘They were there to see my Dad.’

  ‘And they got you too. And you were great!’

  ‘I was OK. There were a couple of bum notes,’ he lied. ‘But I guess I got away with it.’

  ‘There were not! You were just as good as Greg. If he doesn’t come back you could take over for the rest of the tour.’

  ‘No. No way! If he doesn’t show by tomorrow morning, we fly in a replacement before the next show. That was my one and only performance.’

  ‘But why? Come on, Paul! I have
to write something. You have to give me something, anything! I can’t write the same old stuff like all the other hacks in the audience. Your dad promised me the inside track.’

  He looked disgusted. ‘It’s all about the story, isn’t it Kate?’

  Where had that come from? ‘It’s what I’m here for. If I don’t do my job, I get the sack. That means fired by the way, although knowing my editor, he’ll also want to slap me.’

  ‘So you have to dig and dig until you find the perfect story, huh?’

  ‘I’m not a bloody archaeologist, Paul. I just want to report the facts. People will be interested. You were good. Why don’t you want to perform?’

  She realised that she needed to know – for herself, not just for her column. This is important. Whether she ever wrote about it in the end was irrelevant. I need to know what happened to make Paul the man he is. Maybe I’m in the wrong job, because I want to know his secrets and keep them to myself.

  ‘I don’t, OK. I’m not my dad. I don’t want people watching me, fol …’ He paused. ‘Just drop it, OK?’

  ‘If I weren’t a journalist would you talk to me about it? As a friend?’

  He shook his head. ‘Sorry, honey, I’m guess I’m not the type of guy who likes to spill his guts,’ he said gently. ‘Don’t take it personally, Kate. Just forget it, OK? Can you do that? Please?’

  She sighed. She felt confused, questioning herself, and more than a bit hurt that he thought so little of her that he wouldn’t talk to her about something so important. She drank down the last of her cocoa and felt it land like a lead weight in her stomach. She was also, she realised with a shock, a little scared. Am I falling for him? Is that why I feel so confused when he’s around? Why I want to see through his outer mask to the man inside? If only she knew what had caused the pain she sensed within him she might be able to help him. But every time I start to get near he pushes me away. He thinks all I want is a story. He’s wrong. I want him, God help me! Even as she admitted it to herself, she knew that she needed to back off. She was out of her league, could only see heartache for herself at the hands of Paul Brand . Once he has burned his way into your heart he’ll move on. Leaving you scarred. Branded.

  ‘OK, Paul,’ she sighed. ‘If you don’t want to talk about it, I’ll have to accept that.’ She stood up. ‘I still have to find an original angle for my story, but I’ll let you see what I write and pray that my editor doesn’t get nasty because you’ve refused to give me a single quote.’ She knew that another story had emerged tonight – Johnson’s love song to her mother. That story she really didn’t want to look at too closely, but she would have to say something about it. Oh, joy. Why does life have to be so blinking complicated?

  He rose and came to stand in front of her, resting warm hands on her shoulders. ‘You’ll be fine. You’re a good writer.’

  ‘Yeah, right. But good writing’s useless if you haven’t got the killer instinct to get to the heart of the story.’ She shook her head. ‘You’re going to be the death of my career, Brand. I’ll be begging on the streets by the time you fly back to sunny California.’

  He laughed and pulled her into a hug. ‘It’ll never happen, Armstrong. Come on, I’ll walk you to your door.’

  It was almost dawn when Paul delivered Kate to the door of her room on the second floor. They had had a ball, dancing and laughing the night away. And kissing. He had particularly enjoyed the kissing. He’d been pissed about her stubborn insistence that she had to write about his performance tonight, but he guessed she was right when she said that every other damned journo who had been there would make a big thing out of it.

  So why can’t I let Kate have her moment of glory? For a moment, looking into her pretty green eyes he was tempted. But he wanted to kiss her again more than he wanted to open old wounds. He leaned a hand against the doorframe and lowered his head. Kate smiled and put her finger to his lips.

  ‘No more!’ she’d laughed. ‘I have to get some sleep.’

  ‘Sleep with me,’ he demanded, unable to stop himself. ‘It’s what we both want.’ Kate’s eyes widened at his heated declaration. For a moment she looked tempted, but she shook her head and pushed him away.

  ‘I thought you were going to wait until you were asked,’ she challenged. ‘Anyway, it’s not going to happen. My mother is sleeping on the other side of this door. I’ll see you tomorrow. Now go.’

  ‘OK,’ he sighed, running a hand through his hair. ‘With your mom and my dad in the joint, now is probably not the best time. But soon, Kate. It will be soon.’

  Kate raised her eyebrows. ‘My goodness, you’re sure of yourself, Mr Brand.’

  Paul smiled. ‘Not sure exactly, but I’m hopeful.’ He indicated the door and the key card in her hand. ‘I’ll wait until you’re in.’

  She inserted the card in the slot and opened the door, and then she slipped through and closed it softly in his face.

  He had turned and begun walking slowly towards the elevator, when he heard her call his name softly. For a moment he thought she’d changed her mind. He looked back to find her standing in the open door, her face a mixture of anger and distress.

  With a long stride he was at her side. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘It’s Mum. She’s not here.’

  ‘Have you checked the bathroom?’

  ‘Don’t patronise me!’ she snapped. ‘This room is empty and I’m the first person to walk into it this evening!’

  ‘OK. I’m sorry. But I’m sure your mom’s OK. Dad would have brought her back. Or perhaps they decided to go on somewhere else.’

  She gave him a withering look. ‘I think we both know what this means.’

  ‘Is that really a problem?’ he challenged. ‘It’s obvious that they’ve got something special going.’

  ‘They hardly know each other! They’re not the same people they were in the 1970s, for goodness sake. ‘

  Paul followed her into the room and closed the door. Kate stared at the empty beds, turned down ready, but clearly untouched since the maid had left the room. He crossed the room and sat on the nearest bed looking up at her.

  ‘D’you wanna tell me what’s so wrong about your mom and my dad being together? They’re both single.’

  ‘You don’t see it as a problem?’ She planted her hands firmly on her hips.

  He raised his hands, unwilling to fight. ‘Yeah, I can see some problems,’ he admitted, surprising her. ‘So does Dad. “The Rock Star and The Priest” – tabloid hell. And how’s this for a chaser – “The Rock Star’s Son and the priest’s daughter’?” Neither of you deserve having to put up with the sort of crap we face every day, simply by being who we are.

  ‘The trouble is, I like you, Kate, and Dad likes your mom, and for once we’d both just like the chance to see where a relationship might lead, dammit!’

  Kate groaned and covered her face. She was ashamed to realise that, as a journalist, she represented the very people who so often made his life hell. Why was it, every time he was candid with her, she hated her job a bit more?

  But her concerns tonight were more selfish. Like, was Johnson going to steal her mother away to America; or, even worse, break her heart again? This time her father wasn’t around to see her through. And then there were her other worries about her parents. Had her mother really loved Daddy if she could take up with Johnson as though they’d never been apart for all these years? The added complication of Kate’s own growing feelings for Johnson’s son didn’t bear thinking about right now.

  ‘Kate, come and sit down and talk to me,’ Paul urged gently. She sank down next to him. ‘It’ll be OK, I’m sure. My dad cares for her, I know. He would sooner cut his own throat than hurt her.’

  ‘But they’re from different worlds! They haven’t seen each other for decades. This could end so badly.’

  ‘I know, but I think they deserve a chance. I’ve not seen my dad so happy in a long time, and I don’t think your mom’s really so different, do you?’

  ‘I d
on’t know!’ she wailed. ‘I’m just so confused!’

  He put an arm around her and hugged her close. ‘Well, we’ll just have to wait and see. They’re adults. Let them work it out for themselves, OK? Right now, I’m ready to hit the sack. Want me to stay here?’

  Kate’s eyes widened in surprise. The image of spending the night in the comfort of his arms appealed far more than she thought it should in the circumstances. With a firm shake of her head she pushed him away.

  ‘No, thanks. Mum could come back any minute now.’

  ‘She could. Or maybe she won’t. Can you handle that possibility on your own in a strange hotel room?’

  She blew out a frustrated breath. ‘What are you playing at? Are you trying to seduce me, or scare me to death? Yes, I can handle it. I might not be happy about it, but I’ll cope.’ She grimaced. ‘Listen to me. I’m the daughter here, not the parent. She should be worrying about me being out all hours, not the other way around!’

  Paul laughed, hugged her again and kissed her on the forehead before getting up and heading for the door. ‘OK, if you don’t want me to stay here, do you want to come up to our suite and see if she’s OK?’

  ‘No way!’ she exclaimed, appalled at the thought. ‘I can’t think of anything tackier than checking up on my own mother.’ He nodded his approval. ‘Paul.’ He stopped as he opened the door, and turned around.

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Thanks. You’re right. I have to trust that it will be OK, whatever happens. And just for the record, I do like your dad. He’s a very nice man.’

  He smiled, blew her a kiss and closed the door behind him.

  Paul found Kate’s reaction to their parents’ reunion interesting. He had a feeling that the future of their own budding relationship might well hang on the outcome. As frustrating as he felt about that, he could understand her concerns.

  Hell, he had concerns of his own – both for his father and for himself at the hands of the Armstrong women, even without the added complications the paparazzi provided. He’d never felt like this about anyone before, and his conversation with his dad last week had made him sit back and consider the danger he might be putting Kate in.