Something About You (Something Borrowed Series Book 2)

by Louisa George

  She turned around and watched Mrs Singh, Bridget and Faith meander into view. ‘And they will only manage it if you tempt them with wine at the end, but I can’t see them doing it otherwise.’

  Taking the water from Chloe’s outstretched hand and slaking her own thirst, Jenna laughed. ‘I’ll hang a bottle from a stick and carry it just out of reach until the finish line.’

  With not a bead of sweat on her brow, Bridget wrapped an arm around Jenna in an uncharacteristically maternal gesture and looked up at the shop front. ‘Ah, look, isn’t it a lovely sight? Our Jenna’s really going places.’

  Faith shook her head, still bent double. ‘Great for Jenna. Right now, the only place I want to go to is back to my bed.’

  But Bridget’s face was now pressed against the glass and she was making a weird screeching sound. ‘Eek! Look! There. There’s a shadow in the shop. There’s someone in there.’

  Mrs Singh pressed her back against the wall at the side of the shop, trying not to be seen by the intruder inside, like a member of the SAS. ‘I thought I saw him before. When we set off, he was in the doorway of the supermarket. It’s the same hat as that kid the other week at the opening. Tyler’s friend.’

  Chloe tiptoed to peer through the glass, heart drumming. ‘Is Tyler there too? I thought he was a good kid.’

  Jenna peered in too. There was a dark shadow moving towards the office, where the back door opened on to an alleyway. ‘No, looks like he’s on his own. I’m going round the back.’

  ‘Don’t be stupid.’

  ‘He’s nicking my stuff, and we’ve caught him in the act. Any better suggestions?’

  Jenna ran to the open back door. The bubble glass had been smashed and the lock forced, maybe with something dangerous like a crowbar.

  This is not a good idea. He was big. Dressed in black. Hunched over her computer. Stealing her stuff. ‘Oi! You! This is my shop. Get the hell out—’

  The moment the words came out of her mouth, she knew she’d made a mistake. He whirled around, glaring at her. His black eyes the only thing visible beneath the stripy hat and a scarf pulled up over his mouth.

  ‘Hmmpf.’ A blur barged past her, knocking her sideways. Air whooshed out of her lungs. She doubled up, holding her stomach, unable to chase him if her life depended on it. ‘Shit. Shit. Shit.’

  There was glass all over the floor of the back office and the kid had got away. This was so not like anything on the TV where the heroine raced after the perpetrator, rugby tackled him and saved the day.

  Chloe appeared above her, little Evie gripping her hand, and frowning. ‘Jenna! Jenna, what the hell? Are you okay?’

  Jenna felt like Annabel Delacourte. It really was an unnecessary question. ‘Do I look okay? He pushed me over. Did anyone grab him as he passed them?’

  ‘Sorry. No.’ Chloe shook her head. ‘He ran down Blenheim Crescent, so fast.’

  ‘You didn’t chase after him?’

  Chloe winced and stretched her right leg out. ‘No. I’ve stiffened up. I don’t think I can walk, never mind run. Sorry. But it definitely was the same kid.’

  ‘Then you can ask Tyler for his details. Is he still at Vaughn’s?’

  ‘Yes. I’ll go round to see him later. Did he take anything?’

  ‘Not that I can see. But look at the mess.’

  Jenna slumped into the office chair and groaned. Why her? Why her lovely new business? Why now when she was trying so hard? She refused to believe this was anything to do with her and everything to do with the thief taking his chances. But, well, was it a sign that she should give up all of this? Was being independent and successful worth all this hassle?

  For a moment, she let her dark mood take over. Then she pulled herself together.

  Hell yes, success and independence were worth this and more. Sign or no sign, she was going to work her damnedest to keep this business afloat. At least this time there was no lavender cream involved. ‘Shit. Double shit and bollocks. Sorry, Evie. Mamma said bad words. Stay away from all that glass. Walk carefully round it and into the front shop. Has anyone got a phone? Mine’s in the buggy. We need to call the police.’

  By now, the whole running group were crammed into the little office, carefully tiptoeing round the glass. Saskia handed her phone over and Jenna tapped in 999, praying that Nick wasn’t at work but now out for his run. If only she could arrange his timetable for him. If only he’d decide to move to Edinburgh, or Paris, or… Sydney. Yes, the other side of the world worked much better for her.

  Chloe looked at her watch. ‘Sorry to do this to you, but time’s ticking on and I’ve got a zillion things to do today. Mum and I can take Evie home, get her sorted and take her to nursery if you like? Then I can get on.’

  ‘Can’t you stay here and I’ll go?’

  ‘Actually, I have a meeting at nine thirty on Edgware Road, so I can’t wait. You’ll just have to hang here and see who they send.’

  Please not Nick. ‘Can I do your meeting instead? Please?’

  Chloe’s eyebrows rose. ‘Sure.’

  This was a surprise. Jenna started to feel a flood of relief. ‘Really?’

  Her sister shook her head. ‘No. Absolutely not. What do you know about organising a bar mitzvah with two hundred guests?’

  ‘Er… nothing.’

  ‘Exactly. So you’ll have to stay here and face your demons. Because we all know you’re worried about Nick being on duty.’

  Feigning disinterest, Jenna hoped the redness in her cheeks was just leftover exertion. ‘Nick who?’

  ‘Ha ha.’

  ‘Whatever happened to sisterhood solidarity?’

  Chloe went through to the front office and collected Evie, calling behind her, ‘This is it in action, lovely sister. It’s for your own good.’

  ‘Thanks. Thanks a lot.’ Jenna promised to remember those very words—it’s for your own good—at the yoga studio while gently tugging Chloe up the makeshift aisle.

  *

  ***

  Ninety minutes later and still no one had arrived from the police station. God knew how long it was going to take. Thankfully, Faith had nipped home next door and rustled up hot chocolate and a couple of bacon sandwiches. And, to hell with the diet, this was an emergency, which called for emergency food. It was soooo delicious and worth every one of its three hundred and twenty-five calories.

  Plus the two hundred and thirty for the hot chocolate. With extra swirly cream.

  Which neutralised today’s run/walk/shuffle and put her in deficit for tomorrow’s, the next day’s and probably the whole of next week’s exercise. Probably right up to Christmas. But a girl couldn’t starve to death, could she?

  Chloe had swung past with the shop keys, so there was nothing left for Jenna to do but start putting her flowers out for the day, with a little help from Faith who had hung round for moral support. At least she believed in the sisterhood.

  They were disturbed by a knock on the front door. A tall man stood there in what looked like a Savile Row Italian suit and designer shoes. Designer hair. Designer smile. Darkest of brown eyes. He stepped into the shop. ‘Hi. Are you open? Only, the sign says Closed, but I can see you’re in here and putting flowers out.’

  ‘We’ve had a breakin. We’re just waiting for the police.’ Jen pointed towards the shards of glass just visible through the open office door.

  The man nodded and grimaced. He looked far too posh to be in her little shop. His voice was crystal. ‘Ah. Sorry to hear that. I’m looking for someone called Jenna. Jenna, the florist?’

  ‘That’ll be her.’ Faith wiped her hands down her leggings and spoke before Jenna had a chance to utter another word. ‘And I’m Faith.’

  ‘Hello, Faith, and, er, Jenna.’ He pushed dark-rimmed glasses up his nose. ‘I wanted to thank you for looking after my aunt last week.’

  ‘Aunt?’ She couldn’t remember looking after anyone.

  ‘Annabel Delacourte.’

  ‘Oh.’ Jenna joined the dots. ‘You mu
st be Blake?’

  He smiled and it transformed his face. ‘Indeed. I hope she didn’t bite your head off?’

  ‘No. Not at all. She was a bit shaken up, I think.’ The only thing that had shaken Jenna up had been Nick. The near-miss kiss. Oh, and the fact he’d had a gun. The panic of that morning fluttered around her chest, meshing with her memories of the actual kiss. Please don’t let him be on duty right now.

  The man laughed and shook his head. ‘I doubt anything could shake Aunt Annabel up. She flew bombers for the RAF in the second world war. She’s got a lot of guts.’

  ‘Which had been under examination if I remember. How is she?’

  ‘Fine. Absolutely fine. Thanks. I wanted to apologise for any inconvenience… you know, with the police.’ He was talking to Jenna, but his eyes kept straying over to Faith. Jenna watched closely. Yes, Faith’s eyes kept flicking over to Blake too. There was something electric going on right here.

  ‘No inconvenience.’ Just a lot of confusion. Of the heart kind.

  He handed her his business card. ‘Right then, well, I was just in the area and wanted to make sure I thanked you on her behalf.’

  ‘In the area…?’ Faith stepped forward, very unlike her to be so interested in a guy. ‘Just to visit your aunt?’

  ‘Here.’ He handed Faith another business card.

  She looked at it and read: ‘Blake Delacourte. Developer.’

  ‘I’m opening a gin den across the road. In the old butchery.’

  ‘A what?’ Faith’s eyes changed from interested to irritation. ‘There? Just across the road. Right there?’

  ‘Yes.’ He grinned and blinked. ‘Is there a problem?’

  ‘Yes, there’s a problem. A gin den? There?’

  He pushed his glasses up his nose. ‘It’s not really a den, obviously. More of a pub that specialises in gins. My brother runs a distillery, but I’m more interested in the distribution side. And what would be more perfect than a gin den on Portobello Road? Real old England.’

  Faith shook her head. ‘When the rest of Britain is closing pubs down at a rate of four a day, you’re going to open one up? You do realise that the demographic is shifting, don’t you? People have lots of other things to do with their time rather than sit in a pub. Or a gin thing.’

  Blake took a step back, his hands raised. ‘Wow. You’re taking this really personally.’

  ‘You bet I am.’ She tugged his sleeve and beckoned him to the shop window. Pointing outside, she said, ‘You see that pub next door? The Duke?’

  ‘Yes.’ He leaned into the bay window and looked outside, then back at her. His eyes sparked, and for a minute Jenna couldn’t tell whether it was his reaction to looking at the pub or at Faith.

  Faith put her hand on her chest. ‘That’s mine. All mine. I sank every last bit of savings I had into it, and I work hard to keep it going. It’s not easy when there are cafes and restaurants with BYO popping up everywhere. And… gin dens.’ She spat the words as if they were poison. ‘There was a gin den down the road, but it closed a few months ago. I think punters prefer a selection of liquor. Like, you know, what they can get in a pub.’

  He gave a wry half smile. ‘It’s called economics. Some healthy competition is good for you.’

  ‘But it won’t be for you.’

  ‘Is that a threat?’ His mouth twitched. ‘Are you threatening me?’

  At that accusation, the wind whooshed out of Faith. She shrugged and smiled, although Jenna knew it wasn’t a real Faith megawatt smile. ‘Of course not, it’s just a warning.’

  ‘Oh? A warning? About what exactly?’

  Faith’s voice turned into her right lads, don’t you have homes to go to? closing time voice. The don’t mess with me one that even regulars were afraid of. ‘That you might not get rich quick with your gin thing, Mr Blake Delacourte.’

  ‘Ah.’ He nodded slowly. ‘I don’t need to get rich quick. But thanks for the sentiment.’

  And then he turned and walked out of the shop, the smile still on his face.

  Faith watched him leave then gripped the edge of the shop counter and blew out. Hard. ‘Whoa. Well that went well. Not.’

  Jen put her arm round her friend’s shoulder and gave her a sideways hug for reassurance. ‘I thought he was nice.’

  ‘Me too. At first. But thank God he showed his real colours.’

  ‘He’s only trying to make a living, Faith.’

  ‘Aren’t we all? Mine’s not doing so well right now.’ This was news. She’d kept that quiet. But then, Faith was always tight-lipped about her own affairs. Business or pleasure. Her eyes flicked outside to where Blake was standing across the street, looking up at the old butcher’s building. She shrugged resignedly. ‘Let’s finish the displays.’

  As Faith went to pick up some asters from a box, Jenna heard a crunching sound. ‘Whoa. Be careful where you stand, don’t want to get glass in your shoes.’

  ‘It’s getting late and you’re going to lose business if you don’t open up soon. Should I start to clear up?’

  Jenna shook her head. ‘Oh, no. I think we should probably still leave it for the police to see. Won’t they be sending forensics?’

  ‘It’s a breakin, not a murder, but I’ll see if I can get hold of CSI.’

  That voice. Behind her. Masculine.

  Deep. Safe. Yet dangerous.

  A little tease. A lot to want.

  ‘Nick.’ Her blood began to heat, and not just in a good way. Because when the heck would this all stop? And when would they get onto a better footing? She swivelled and there he was. Of course they’d had to send Nick, because sending someone else would have been far too easy for them both. She didn’t know how to act after the kiss. Things had definitely changed—if not only the way her blood pulsed through her just looking at him. ‘If you’re still training, should you be here on your own?’

  Chapter 11

  ‘I’ve finished the training.’ Nick tried hard not to scrutinise her reaction too much.

  Jenna looked as unsure about him being here as he felt. But hell, the minute her address had popped up on his radar, there was no way he was going to let anyone else take the call out. He’d had to make sure she was okay. That damned protection streak kept coming and coming, and he was too caught up to ignore it.

  So, yes, she was safe. He could relax—as best he could whenever he was around her.

  She looked good. Hot, red-faced, her bluest of blue eyes shining bright, her hair wayward. Better than good, which wasn’t helping anything to be honest, least of all him trying to forget the kiss. The memory of which had kept him awake. A lot.

  Still, she hadn’t been hurt and she’d kept her sense of humour. ‘And good morning to you both. Another call out, Jenna? Didn’t I say I never wanted to see you at another crime scene? Should I just set up your own direct line straight to the station?’

  Blue eyes blazed. ‘Hey, we nearly caught your burglar. So, yes, set one up. But watch it, you’ll be out of a job if you’re not careful, especially if I get Mrs Singh in on the act too.’

  ‘Anjini Singh? Is she the same as your Mrs Singh at the shop opening?’

  ‘Yes.’ Curiosity flickered across Jenna’s face. ‘Do you know her?’

  ‘She’s legendary at the station. No one knows how she does it, but she always seems to be one step ahead of everyone else.’ Why were they talking about Mrs Singh? All he could focus on was the mouth he’d crushed his lips against. Kissed like a starving man being fed. Took from her what wasn’t rightfully his, but took it anyway.

  Damn his pathetic resolve.

  Damn the kiss.

  No, not damn the kiss. The kiss had been the best thing that had happened to him in years. It was the fallout that was bothering him.

  ‘Ahem.’ The other woman’s voice zoned into his memories. ‘Er, if we’re not going to talk about the breakin, could I ask a quick question? Nick?’

  Hell. He couldn’t remember this woman’s name. There had been a lot of them a
t the shop opening, but his focus hadn’t been on the others. It had been wholly on Jenna. Right now, he could recall every minute detail about her that day. The dress that cinched her waist. The curl of her hair on the top of her head. The swish of black eyeliner that fanned out, making her look like Audrey Hepburn. The purple icing he’d wanted to lick off her face but only after he’d kissed her hard on her red glossy-lipped mouth.

  It was as if his radar was fine-tuned to only her.

  What the hell was her name? Sas… something? Kit? Kat? Or was she… nah, he couldn’t remember. But she was here, which meant there was a human shield between him and Jenna, that kiss, and the question of how they were supposed to act now. ‘Sure. Fire away. Then I will talk about the breakin.’

  The short-haired woman looked angry. ‘Can you stop someone opening a business in direct competition with yours?’

  ‘No. I don’t think so. Why?’

  She started to point fiercely out of the window. ‘Someone’s opening a drinking house there. Right there. And it’ll be all shiny and new and all my regulars will want to go in there instead of The Duke.’

  He wouldn’t blame them if she was always this animated; people tended to want peace and quiet when they went to the pub. But her business was clearly important to her; she was trying to make a living and feeling threatened. Plus, she was Jenna’s friend, and he trusted her judgement in choosing those she kept in her close-knit circle. ‘I don’t think he’s breaking any laws.’

  ‘No. Just my poor heart.’

  ‘Oh, come on, stop overreacting,’ Jenna interjected. ‘You’re made of sturdier stuff, Faith.’

  ‘I know. And he’s going to get a taste of my sturdy next time he’s around here.’ Faith. Faith, that was it. Faith didn’t look convinced. ‘This is all I bloody need, more reasons for people to stop coming into my pub. Right, I’d better get back to sprucing up my business. At least forewarned is forearmed. I’ll leave you two to it.’