A snigger escaped Lane. Kate noticed even Jamie smiled. She took a big breath and choked the pills down one at the time.
“Ugh.” For one awful moment, she thought the second pill would make a return visit. Her eyes watered as she swallowed in panic.
The nurse chortled. “There now. That wasn’t so bad was it, dear?”
“Thank you,” Kate said, with just a trace of sarcasm.
The nurse beamed a Cheshire cat grin and left. A faint titter of amusement drifted after her as she strode from the ward.
“I think you lost that one, Kate.”
Kate glared at Lane. “When can I go home?”
“I spoke with the doctor earlier. He’ll check on you during his rounds tomorrow, but he thinks you’ll only have to spend a couple of nights.”
“Good!” Kate said.
Lane sobered after studying her battered face. “I aged ten years when Caryn threw her knife at you.”
“Yeah,” Jamie seconded Lane’s sentiment. His curious survey took in all the snowy bandages. “Does it hurt?”
Kate felt his cautious touch on her arm. She attempted to lift heavy eyelids to reassure him, but for some reason, her eyes wished to remain shut. She yawned.
“She needs lots of rest,” Lane said to Jamie. “So she’ll get better. Kate, do you need help to lie back down?”
“Please,” she murmured.
This time it didn’t hurt so much. She floated. The nurse was right about the horse pills being good.
“Sleep tight.” The butterfly kiss made her lips curve to a sleepy grin.
Lane straightened and turned to Jamie. The boy seemed fascinated by the kiss he had witnessed.
“Do you like to kiss Kate?” he whispered.
Lane considered his answer. “Yes,” he said finally. “Kate tastes like strawberries and cream.”
Jamie’s face puckered in a frown. “Sarah James kissed me last week. It felt wet and yucky. I didn’t taste strawberries.” His frown darkened. “Only sissies kiss girls.”
Lane grinned. “No doubt you’ll change your mind in time.” He patted Jamie’s shoulder. “Let’s go home. We’ll visit Kate again tomorrow.”
* * * * *
Two days later Lane leapt from the car and hurried around to the passenger side to help Kate out. Jamie ran ahead to open the door.
“Put me down,” Kate protested as Lane swept her off her feet. “I can walk.”
Lane ignored the complaints and carried her through to the family room, placing her on the sofa. He kissed her, cutting off any further protests.
“Can I get you anything? Another cushion? A cup of tea?”
“Don’t fuss,” Kate snapped.
“I’m not. Jamie and I are hungry. I’m going to make a cup of tea for myself. Would you like one?”
“Sorry,” Kate muttered. “Do you have training this afternoon?”
“Coach has let me off today.”
Good, they could talk. “A cup of tea sounds lovely.”
“Relax. The doctor only let you out today on the condition you took things easy. I could take you back to the hospital and leave you in the hands of Nurse Maxwell.”
“No, please.” Kate held her hands up in surrender, a look of exaggerated alarm on her face. “Anything but that.”
Once Lane left for the kitchen, Kate gazed about the room. The walls still bore the scars of vandalism, and the lack of furniture and knick-knacks were a vivid reminder of Caryn Lucas and her twisted love for Lane. She shuddered, recalling the exact expression in Caryn’s eyes when she’d thrown the knife.
Caryn Lucas had come close to killing her, and being so close to death had made Kate face reality. Life was so short. During the hours of lying in the hospital bed, she’d decided to grasp every opportunity thrown her way. Lane Gerrard was important to her. Kate hoped he’d thought about a permanent relationship because that’s the way her thoughts were drifting.
Lane’s arrival shook her from her introspection. Her jar of painkillers sat prominently on the tray. Kate muttered an unladylike curse under her breath. “I don’t need those.”
“Just in case,” Lane soothed, his eyes glowing with suppressed humor. He handed her a stout walking stick.
“I see Jamie’s rescued Dad’s old stick from the attic. That didn’t take him long. Where is he now?” she asked.
“Making more sandwiches.”
“Oh. Lane, I—”
The doorbell interrupted her and she groaned silently. Talk about lousy timing.
“I’ll get it.” Lane loped off, whistling a jaunty pop tune but came back in minutes. “You have a visitor.” He stood aside.
“Gerald!” Kate shouted in delight. She struggled to get to her feet but sank back with a weak groan.
The man took one look at Kate and whirled on Lane. “You slimy bastard.” His fist lashed out with a swift uppercut followed by a sharp jab with his right.
“Gerald, stop!” Kate cried.
Taken unawares, Lane stumbled when Gerald’s fist connected and fell to the floor. Then Gerald turned his wrath on her.
“Are you mad, woman? After all Steve put you through you’ve hooked up with another one of the same ilk. I’ve heard about woman like you. Haven’t you got any sense?”
“Ah, Gerald—”
“I don’t believe it. Nicole would turn in her… My God, he’s the one! I knew his face seemed familiar.” His meaty fists balled at his sides. He glared at Lane and looked ready to lash out again with his fists.
“Gerald!” Kate shouted.
Lane pushed to his feet, a little groggy.
“Are you hurt?” Kate asked, her heart thudding with sudden fear. She relaxed slightly when Lane nodded in reassurance.
He probed at his jaw, moving it backward and forward. “No, I’m not hurt.”
Kate sent an exasperated look in Gerald’s direction. “Why did you hit him?”
“I don’t like your taste in men,” Gerald snapped.
“But he didn’t…”
Gerald’s gaze raked Lane’s tense face. “I am right!” he snarled. “You are the one!” And he dove at Lane, lashing out again, another swift, punishing right, but this time Lane appeared ready for him. He blocked Gerald’s first punch and landed one of his own before darting out of reach. Gerald roared, sounding like a tetchy grizzly bear. They were of an even size and well-matched in strength.
For a tense moment, they sized each other up then Gerald pounced, letting rip with a bone-crunching punch. The swing caught Lane high on his cheekbone and skated across his face. Blood spurted from his nose but it didn’t hamper him. He blocked Gerald’s next blow, matching it with a serious uppercut of his own. A trickle of blood appeared on Gerald’s jaw. Gerald’s next punch connected with a wallop.
“Stop hitting him. Gerald, is he all right?”
“I don’t care,” Gerald snapped. “After the way he’s treated you, he deserves far worse.”
A small sound alerted Kate to Jamie’s presence. Jamie took one look at Kate and Gerald, and another at Lane lying dazed on the floor. The plate of sandwiches he carried, dropped to the floor with an almighty crash. Giant doorstop sandwiches tumbled in all directions, freeing slices of tomato, ham and lettuce, which splattered the carpet. Kate watched her best china plate settle in pieces amongst the sandwich fillings after it hit the coffee table.
Jamie rushed over to Lane and stood in front of him. He glared at Gerald. “What are you doing to my father?”
Great, thought Kate, more than a little astounded at the speed everything was happening. A three-ring circus. Bring on the clowns.
She noticed Lane struggling to rise and gave a sigh of relief he wasn’t seriously hurt. Unfortunately, Gerald noticed at the same time. His upper lip curved in a snarl and he stepped forward with the obvious intention of striking Lane again.
Kate stared aghast. For goodness sake. Talk about childish behavior. The male posturing had to stop and she was the right woman for the job.
&n
bsp; “Stop right now!” she hollered at the top of her voice.
A stunned silence fell before all three males turned to stare in astonishment.
“Gerald, you sit there,” she ordered.
Gerald opened his mouth and snapped it shut in a good imitation of a stunned mullet. Kate met his glare with a sweet smile.
“Yes, you,” she snapped. She forced steel into her tone, biting back the instinct to laugh. No need to spoil a priceless moment by laughing. “Sit!”
Gerald sat and folded his arms across his broad chest, managing to appear unruffled and haughty despite the intermittent drips of blood from the cut on his face.
“Jamie, sit by me. Never mind the sandwiches. We’ll pick them up later.”
“Lane, you sit over there.”
Lane groaned and gingerly touched his face. “There’s no need to shout. I heard the first time.”
Kate tensed, preparing for the shooting pain that accompanied any move she attempted. By the time she’d propped herself up on the couch, a film of perspiration coated her forehead. She inhaled cautiously before looking to Gerald. The first thing she needed to do was find out what he was talking about and ask him some pointed questions about Nicole. Then she could hustle him out of here so she could talk with Lane.
She glanced at Jamie. In private. As much as she loved her son, Jamie would have to go as well. Danielle should be home by now and could be counted on in this emergency. No doubt she’d demand explanations later, but Kate could cope with the stricture.
Kate studied the lean planes of the familiar face. “Gerald, you have it all wrong. Lane didn’t beat me up. He’s nothing like Steve. I was attacked three days ago in The Sanctuary.”
Gerald’s eyes narrowed. “Who attacked you?”
Lane spoke before Kate could summon the tactful words she needed. “Caryn Lucas. My agent.”
Gerald made to move from his chair. “So it is your fault.”
“It wasn’t Lane’s fault,” Kate snapped.
“It was my fault,” Lane said. “And I’ll never forgive myself.”
Kate took one look at the two men and muttered under her breath. Time to change the subject. “Gerald, what are you doing here?”
He leapt to his feet. Six foot plus of furious male glared down at her. “I’ll leave since you’re so unhappy with my presence.”
Kate rolled her eyes. “I didn’t mean I didn’t want to see you. Your mother said you were touring Europe. I meant I didn’t expect to see you.”
His face softened. “Yeah, I told her a couple of white lies so I could make a surprise visit home for her birthday. My brother and two sisters are home as well. Why is he here?” Gerald sent a hate-filled glare toward Lane. “You know he got Nicole pregnant and left her in the lurch. Katie, don’t ruin your life. Don’t place your trust in him. He’ll break your heart like he did Nicole’s.”
Kate watched Lane’s face, trying to read his reaction to Gerald’s accusation. All she saw was confusion. He had no idea what Gerald meant.
“When did Nicole meet Lane?” Kate asked Gerald.
Gerald snorted in disbelief. “What? He can’t remember?”
“Tell me your version of events,” Kate insisted. “I need to know.”
“July twelve. It’s engraved on my mind. An after-match function.” He sneered at Lane before turning back to Kate. “Wonder boy here had a blinder game that day. Scored four tries. I admit he can play rugby. That last try he scored was nothing short of brilliant. Ran the length of the field and—”
“Gerald, get to the point,” Kate muttered.
“He must remember,” Gerald scoffed. “I watched the whole thing. He took one look at Nicole and that was it. Wonder Boy walked over to her, introduced himself and they danced together for the rest of the night. Nicole couldn’t believe he wanted her. She told me later, and she was right.”
“Lane?” Kate queried.
He shook his head. “I don’t remember,” he confessed. “I’m sorry, Kate, but I don’t remember.”
“The women were too easy for you,” Gerald said bitterly. “Did their faces begin to blur after a while? Every girl looks the same in the dark?”
Thunderclouds gathered in Lane’s face.
Kate held out a warning hand, meeting his glare with one of her own. “Stay,” she snapped. Once she was confident he intended to stay put, she turned her irritation on Gerald. “Gerald, you’re not making this any easier. Button up unless you have something important to say.”
Gerald shrugged but his stormy eyes contrasted with his casual movement. “I’m telling it the way I see it,” he said. “He had it easy.”
“Jealous?” Lane taunted. “I don’t remember the match and scoring those tries,” he added. “You’d have thought I’d remember playing rugby at least. Who else was there who would remember? We only have your word that’s what happened.”
Kate braced herself for Gerald’s explosion.
“Wait a minute!” Gerald said, snapping his fingers. “That was the game where Stormin’ Norman crunched you. You took a hard knock to your head. You must recall Stormin’ Norman’s tackle.” He rubbed his hands together as he reran the memory. “The guy crunched you good. They were going to replace you but you stayed on. Yeah! I remember now. They bandaged you up and you kept playing for the rest of the game. Later you seemed all right. A little quiet, I remember, but I decided Nicole had bowled you over. She affected a lot of men that way.”
“Gerald, you have a nasty habit of digressing,” Kate muttered. “Get to the point.”
Gerald grinned, letting her insult pass.
“What are you suggesting? That I had a delayed concussion?” Lane asked.
“Just offering a possible explanation. Sounds logical to me, given the tackle,” Gerald said.
“Concussion might account for you not remembering Nicole,” Kate said.
“Jamie, could you get me a clean cloth from the kitchen please. I think my nose is starting to bleed again.” Lane waited until Jamie left the room then he said, “Don’t get me wrong, but I’ve got to ask. Was Nicole in the habit of sleeping with men she’d only just met?”
“No!” Kate snapped.
“No, she wasn’t,” Gerald seconded, his face darkening at the slur. “But that was the day Nicole went for tests. I remember distinctly because I went along with her to offer moral support. The doctors weren’t sure what her symptoms meant, but I think Nicole knew it was bad. Later that night, we went to the after-match function, the way we always did. She looked beautiful, certainly not sick. She wore her dark shoulder-length wig.”
“The one that made her look like Cleopatra,” Kate said with a smile of reminiscence. “She looked different when she wore her Cleo wig.”
“Team her wig with a slinky red dress…” Gerald trailed off and gave a sheepish smile. “I think you get the picture.”
Lane swore. Short and pithy words that made both Kate and Gerald take notice.
“What?” Kate asked.
“Nicole wore a wig? A dark wig?”
“Yes, occasionally,” Kate said. “I didn’t think to mention it.”
The look on Lane’s face made her stomach clench. And not for the first time in her life, she felt jealous of her sister.
“Yes,” she whispered, forcefully pushing away the envy sweeping through her. Guilt filled the empty space left because she lived while Nicole had died.
Lane covered his face with his hands. Kate watched his broad shoulders shudder beneath his navy polo shirt and winced. She didn’t have a chance with him despite her hopes and dreams. His reaction told her. He had liked Nicole, even though he’d only met her that night. Maybe he’d even loved her. Kate hunched into a ball of misery. How could she fight her sister under these circumstances?
Jamie chose the tense moment to trot into the room, unaware of the edgy atmosphere. The white cloth he held in his hands dripped a trail of water on the floor, the damp spots clear evidence of his progress across the room. He ta
pped Lane on the shoulder. “Does your nose hurt?”
Lane looked up and Kate caught a glimpse of the pain in his eyes. “What?”
“I don’t see any blood,” Jamie said.
“Oh, my nose. I think the bleeding has stopped but I’d better keep the cloth handy. Thanks, Jamie,” he said.
Jamie nodded before thumping up the stairs to play in his room.
“What happened?” Gerald asked. “Why didn’t you contact her again? It’s obvious from your reaction you cared.”
“Cared?” Lane laughed, and it wasn’t a happy sound. His gaze passed fleetingly over Kate then moved on. “She told me her name was Anna. Just Anna, no second names.” He paused and stared into space, his thoughts back in the past.
“She didn’t lie,” Gerald said. “She was Nicole Joanna Alexander.”
“She didn’t exactly tell the truth either,” Lane said bitterly. “You’re right, Gerald. I did take a hard tackle. I played the game through, but some of my memories of the rest of the night are a little patchy. I know I didn’t drink. Anna, sorry Nicole, and I danced and talked, just the two of us. We left the after-match function early. I remember that much. We must have gone back to the flat I shared, a flat with two of the guys in my team. The next morning I woke alone with a heck of a headache. I never saw her again.”
“Didn’t you try to find her?” Gerald demanded.
“Find her? Are you mad? Of course I did! But she made it difficult for me. Impossible in fact. The phone number she gave me belonged to someone in Parnell. She gave me a false name. How the hell was I meant to find her? I tried, believe me. I had no idea who her friends were and no one knew an Anna.”
“I don’t understand any of this. Nicole was never secretive. She…” Kate swallowed and trailed off. Lane and Nicole. Before, even with Jamie looking so much like Lane, nothing had substance but now… Now, Kate knew the truth, and it cut just as deeply as Caryn’s knife. “I don’t understand,” she repeated. “The article in the newspaper said you and…well, they used my name, but they said you were constant companions. If you and Nicole only met the once, where did they get their facts?”
Playing to Win Page 22
