The Pleasures of Spring
Page 24
Roz glared after his departing figure. He actually thought she had stolen Poppy’s necklace? He believed she was a thief?
Well, she was, of course, but she stole from people who deserved it and who could afford it. And it was nothing to do with the rich people being the ones who had the most money – it was scarily easy to steal from poor people. Rich people dealt in credit, poor people carried cash.
No, there was something magical about getting one over on someone who deserved it. Who had got rich by their own scams, or by profiting from other people’s hard work.
She wouldn’t steal from someone like Poppy, who had been so good to her. Poppy might be rich and live in a ridiculously large home, even if it had a plumbing system that was at least fifty years old and didn’t even have proper heating. It was clear that she worked hard, didn’t indulge herself with senseless luxury and valued her family more than her bank balance. That necklace had belonged to Poppy’s great-grandmother, and that meant more to her than the insurance value.
And Andy fucking McTavish thought she would steal it?
The pain that welled up as she absorbed that thought was more than she could bear. The house, cold as it was, was stifling to her. She had to get away. She sprinted for the stables where she could hide from everyone.
The yard was full of stable hands when she arrived, but Minty stuck her head out over her stable door and whickered a greeting to Roz. Her big brown eyes were friendly and didn’t accuse her of anything.
Roz slipped into the stable, bolting the half door behind her. Now she was out of sight.
Minty butted her head against Roz, looking for a treat. Roz patted her pockets but the only thing she had on her was a packet of Tic Tacs. She shook one out on her hand and looked at it dubiously. It seemed far too small, but she offered it on her palm.
Minty lipped it up with enthusiasm and Roz swore the horse was smiling at her. At least someone liked her. The horse shoved her nose against Roz for a caress.
Roz patted her gingerly, then with more assurance when the horse stayed still. Finally she leaned against her neck, absorbing the warmth and strength of the animal.
‘He thinks I’m a thief,’ she murmured to Minty. ‘In spite of everything we’ve done together, he thinks I stole Poppy’s necklace. He didn’t even ask me, he assumed.’ Her hand stilled as she was struck by a horrible possibility. ‘I wonder if Poppy and Dougal think the same?’
She had no way of knowing what Andy had told his parents about her background. Surely he wouldn’t have told them she was the daughter of a convict? They wouldn’t have her in the house if they knew. Or would they? She could almost see them taking her in as some sort of charity case.
She hugged Minty tightly. She couldn’t bear to be someone’s charity case. Life had been hard over the years, but she had always got by on her own. She had never gone begging to anyone and she wasn’t about to start now.
Well, that solved one dilemma. When she had realized how rich Andy was, she had toyed with the idea of asking him for the money to get her father out of hock. She had been reluctant because she could see that even with an estate of this size, there wasn’t half a million in cash floating around to throw away on a small-time conman.
Now there was no way she would consider it. She had to find the money on her own, and she knew how to do it.
She pulled away from Minty with reluctance. Who’d have guessed that horses were cuddly? In the back of the stable, she pulled out her phone and called Frankie.
Cheyenne answered immediately, panting slightly as if she had been running before she picked up. ‘Hi, Roz, want to talk to Frankie?’
She had barely finished before Frankie spoke, sounding equally breathless. ‘Yo, what’s up?’
‘You sound better.’
‘Yep, getting back into the saddle, so to speak.’ There was a smile in Frankie’s voice. ‘How are things with you?’
She wasn’t going to dump all her problems on him. ‘Good. I’m at Andy’s home, and I want to get moving on the Shergar sting. What do we need?’
His voice muffled as he said, ‘Sweetie, could you get me a coffee?’ A door slammed, and his voice returned to its usual crisp tone. ‘Okay, first up, you need to buy Nagsy and make sure the paperwork is tight. Then we need to convince O’Sullivan that he is worth half a mill. That will take DNA testing, but I’ll leave that to you. And some sort of race, where he looks good. That will be harder to rig.’
‘Leave that to me.’ Roz had no idea yet how to do it, but she trusted her fertile imagination would come up with something. ‘I’ll have to find somewhere to put him, until I’m ready to spring the trap.’
Her thoughts raced. This was going to be a long con. But she had to do it.
‘I’ll get working on it. Anything else you think of, text me about it. When are you back at work?’
There was a pause, small but she caught it. ‘Soon enough. It won’t be long before the docs will sign me fit again.’
Yeah right, and pigs would fly. Roz knew Frankie well enough to know when he was lying. He was injured, even if he was fit enough to keep Cheyenne happy for now. She added Frankie to the list of things she had to do. But first, she needed a crash course in horses and she knew the man to teach her.
Dougal had become keen on their hikes around the estate, and she didn’t think it was her imagination that he was moving more easily and leaning on his cane less frequently.
‘Here, time you earned your keep,’ he told her. Pointing his cane at a small white bucket of warm milk, he instructed her to carry it out to the paddock. Mystified, Roz obeyed.
The paddock, a small field close to the house, contained a gangly, knock-kneed foal. ‘Oh, he’s adorable.’
Dougal grunted. ‘That’s Harmony. His mother, Serenade, died last week, so he has to be hand-fed. That’s your job from now on.’
This poor little thing was an orphan. Roz carefully carried the bucket of milk into the field and braced herself in case Harmony tried to knock her over. But he extended a curious nose and stood back. She moved towards him and he backed away.
‘Hey, hey, easy,’ she murmured. ‘I’m going to give you some nice milk. Here, try a bit.’ She made her voice as soothing as possible and he took two cautious steps towards her. ‘Lovely warm milk, you’ll like it. Try a little.’ One more step and the foal buried his face in the bucket.
It was better than being awarded a medal. She continued to mutter nonsense to him as he drank greedily, and he rewarded her by occasionally raising his head to sniff at her. His mouth was milky and dripped on her, but she didn’t mind.
When the bucket was empty, Harmony let her pet him and pull his ears gently.
‘You’ve a nice touch with horses,’ Dougal grunted approvingly. ‘When he’s old enough, you can put Harmony into training.’
‘How long will that be?’ she asked.
‘He’s got the breeding for a steeplechaser, but I think we may keep him as a hunter,’ he said, ‘so when he’s three.’
He thought she was going to be around in three years’ time. Something inside Roz warmed at that. She ignored the feeling, it was too dangerous.
‘So what’s the difference in training a racehorse?’ she asked. It was time to get down to work.
Although it was a while since Andy had worked in Dublin, the concierge at the Shelbourne greeted him like an old friend. ‘I’ll have your bag taken up to your room, sir. Mr and Mrs Winter are expecting you. They’re in the Horseshoe Bar.’
There was something about Dublin that was cool and laid back. Jack and Abbie were able to sit at the bar without being plagued by fans. Everyone knew who he was but Dubliners would never be vulgar enough to interrupt his conversation with requests for autographs or photographs. It was the one city in the world where Jack could relax.
Although he didn’t look particularly relaxed at the moment.
Jack was glaring at his Oris diver’s watch, while Abbie laid her hand reassuringly on his thigh. His expres
sion brightened considerably when he spotted Andy heading towards them.
Jack clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Great to see you again.’
‘You, too. Niall said that you needed me. What’s up?’ Although he had spoken to Reilly about Jack’s concerns on the journey, it was always better to get the client’s story direct.
‘Show him.’ Jack nodded to Abbie.
She shook her head at his peremptory tone and gave him a look that was openly challenging.
Andy was tempted to laugh. Abbie was a brat if he ever saw one and he was willing to bet that the film star had his hands full keeping her in line.
‘Jack is being an idiot. I’ve told him that it’s probably a teenage fan, but he won’t –’
Jack snatched the crumpled note from her hand and promptly received another glare. ‘Look at this.’
Andy skimmed through the note. The paper was cheap and the writing was large and curved. Female, definitely, and from the text-speak phrasing, probably young. Still, it couldn’t be ignored.
‘What do you need me to do?’
Jack raked his fingers through his hair. ‘There’s been a technical glitch on my last movie. I need to do some voiceover work in the studio for a few days.’
‘I’m not staying in my room while he’s working,’ Abbie snapped. The stubborn set of her jaw reminded Andy of someone else. He had been away from Roz for a few hours, but already he was missing her.
‘So you can see my problem.’ Jack gave Abbie a pleading look which would have earned him another Oscar.
Her mouth twitched before breaking into a smile. ‘Stop that. Okay. Andy can babysit me for a few days, but I hope he likes shopping.’
‘I love it,’ Andy replied with as much sincerity as he could muster.
The following day, Andy was bitterly regretting the enthusiasm he had shown the evening before. Abbie Marshall was nothing like Roz. Whereas the sarky redhead could scan a store in under a minute, Abbie insisted on examining every piece, piling stuff over her arm and spending an age in the dressing room.
‘I used to hate shopping,’ she called to him through the curtain as she tried on yet another outfit. ‘My sister could have made a career out of it, but vintage stuff is my one weakness. It’s great that you’re here. Jack hates doing this kind of stuff.’
Andy sighed. His instinct told him that the most dangerous thing in the shop was a 1920s fur stole, complete with tiny claws. If Abbie asked him if her butt looked big in that he would say yes – anything to get out of here.
He stood up when she emerged from the dressing room and headed for the till. Thank god the torture was over. ‘Where to next?’ he asked.
‘A gift for Jack, and then we’re done.’
Abbie’s gift for Jack proved to be lingerie. A friend in New York had tipped her off about a new Irish range called ‘Embrace’ and Abbie looked as if she was going to purchase their entire stock.
He was almost relieved when his phone buzzed.
‘Where are you?’ Niall asked.
‘I’m trapped in BT’s lingerie department. Please send someone to shoot me.’
‘Maybe next week – I have a job coming up in Afghanistan. But that’s not why I called. Can you talk?’
Andy moved to a quiet corner, where he could observe the dressing rooms. ‘Okay, go ahead.’
‘Interpol have a lead on Hall, but they want to bring Roz in first.’
His heart plummeted. He had known this was coming, known that this thing with Roz couldn’t last, but he had to force himself to ask the question, ‘When?’
‘ASAP. I’ll send someone to Lough Darra to fetch her.’
‘No. She’s safe where she is for now. I’ll do it when I finish here.’
‘If you’re sure.’
There was a question in Niall’s tone but Andy ignored it. How could he explain to Niall when he didn’t understand it himself? This thing with Roz was getting out of control. Over the past week he had caught a glimpse of another life. One he could have had with her if things were different.
‘Fine. I’ll delay things for a few days.’
‘Thanks, boss.’ Andy disconnected the call. He had to face reality. He wasn’t the kind who settled down and she was going into protective custody. It was never meant to be. Their short time together had been nothing more than a hiatus, a time out of real life. He had known from the start that a future with Roz wasn’t on the cards. So why did he feel like someone had torn his heart out?
24
‘You look like someone broke your favourite toy.’ Abbie stood before him, smiling and carrying more shopping bags. ‘Come on, we can drop these back to the hotel and I’ll buy you dinner.’
Abbie insisted on taking the long way back to the hotel. They passed Trinity College and strolled along the damp streets, passing rows of elegant Georgian buildings on the way back to the Shelbourne. After they freshened up, Abbie insisted she wanted sushi and they braved the rain again.
It should have been a pleasurable evening. How many guys could boast that they had dinner with the wife of a Hollywood A-lister? But although he was on full alert and kept his attention focussed on Abbie, his thoughts strayed back to Roz. How was he going to tell her that she was going back to Paris?
Abbie sat back in her chair. ‘So tell me about the woman?’
‘What woman?’ Andy sat back, startled.
Abbie waved at a waiter and laced her fingers together, the picture of innocence.
‘The one who’s putting the frown on that handsome face.’ She laughed. ‘The last time I met you, you checked out every woman we met, but you haven’t looked at a woman here all evening.’
Andy stalled for time. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
She shook her head. ‘And I thought Jack was secretive. What is it with you Irish guys?’
The waiter’s interruption was welcome. ‘I’ll have a Black Bush, no ice.’ Abbie said. ‘What will you have, Andy?’
‘Nothing. I’m on the job.’
She widened her eyes in mock horror. ‘You can’t let me drink alone. Who’s the client here?’
‘Bitch.’ He laughed, knowing that his insult wouldn’t faze her in the least. ‘But I’m still not having any. Coffee please.’
‘I am so telling Jack you called me that,’ she warned him.
‘Yeah, yeah.’
The waiter returned almost immediately with the coffee and Abbie’s whiskey. Andy raised his cup and clinked it against her glass.
Abbie sipped her drink but, being a typical reporter, she didn’t let him off the hook. ‘Well, are you going to talk to me, or do I have to use the thumbscrews?’
‘You brought thumbscrews?’ He smiled. ‘How did you get them through customs?’
Abbie waggled her glass and the amber liquid swirled. ‘You know, I like this stuff, but not so much that it would distract me, so spill.’
What could he tell her about his relationship with Roz? Hell, he didn’t understand it himself. They were polar opposites who should never have clicked, but they had and now he didn’t know what to do about it. Andy took a sip of coffee. ‘I met a girl, but it’s hopeless. She’s a client and she’s going into protective custody as soon as I get back home.’
‘She’s staying with you?’ Abbie perked up at the thought of Andy McTavish bringing a girl home to meet his family.
‘She’s pretending to be my fiancée. It was supposed to be a cover story, but my parents adore her. She’s helping my father with the estate and my mother is teaching her to paint.’
He remembered his mother’s face flushed with pleasure when she and Roz returned from their shopping excursion, giggling like a pair of teenagers. ‘I have to hand her over to Interpol on Saturday and I have no idea what I’m doing anymore.’
Damn, he sounded worse than a lovelorn lad. He was grateful Abbie didn’t laugh at him.
‘Do you love her?’ she asked.
Love? Andy McTavish didn’t do love. He did flirting, seduction and sex, a
nd he was pretty good at it. But love? ‘Roz and I have the worst timing in the world. Next week she’ll have a new home and a new identity and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.’
Abbie reached across to squeeze his hand in sympathy. To his left, a camera flashed and Andy came to attention. Damn, someone had papped them. God knows where the shot would appear. He rose to his feet but Abbie placed a hand on his arm.
‘It’s okay. Let him go. I’m used to it by now.’
They strolled back to the hotel where Andy escorted her to the penthouse and insisted on checking each room before he left.
In the elevator, his phone vibrated, announcing a message from Niall. Flights booked for Saturday from Belfast and there was a check-in code. Someone would meet them with temporary ID for Roz.
He returned to his own room and switched on his laptop, wondering if Roz was online.
he typed. The words flashed on screen but there was no response. Andy checked Yahoo Detector to see if Roz was online, but invisible. He found her almost immediately. She was still mad at him and his stupid remark about the necklace. He pressed send. Now, that little comment deserved a spanking when he got home. If they had time.