by Nell Dixon
Hesitantly, she smiled back. "I suppose I was hungrier than I thought."
He looked so different when he smiled—younger, and the shadows under his eyes lifted a little. What was she doing? Nate was her boss, her friend. When had she ever noticed that he was good looking? With dark blue eyes framed by long black lashes, high cheekbones and a very nicely shaped, kissable...
Shocked by her thoughts, she called a halt right there. Nate still loved Cerys and even if he were heart-free, she knew he wouldn't be interested in her.
Later on, feeling warmer and fuller, she emerged into the dull wintry afternoon.
"It's not worth going back to the office. We've put in enough extra hours there lately. I'll take you home."
She guessed it wasn't his real reason for not wanting to return to work. He had been late arriving that morning, and she had surmised from his strained expression that he had probably visited Cerys' grave first.
"Well, if you're sure. You're the boss!" If she were honest with herself, she didn't feel like returning to work any more than he did. She'd worked herself up with worries about meeting her mother.
"What time do you want me to pick you up tomorrow?" He took the turn towards the rundown residential area where Jenni lived.
"Um, I thought maybe one o'clock. I'd like to be there a bit early."
He nodded a reply while negotiating the car through a narrow side street.
"Where along here do you live?" He'd never been to her area before. Whenever she worked late he always called a cab for her.
"Over there." She indicated the small parade of shop fronts with her gloved hand and he drew to a halt.
She could see him looking for her home. As she viewed the street through his eyes, the unwelcome heat of a defensive flush built in her cheeks. A bigger contrast to the beautiful regency building where Nate lived would be hard to find.
"So where is your flat?"
The shop fronts looked scruffy and neglected in the gloomy wintry light. A chip shop, an off license, a post office, a hairdresser's and the bait and tackle shop which catered for the local fishermen sat sulking before them.
"I live above the hairdresser's. There's my door, by the post box." She indicated a blue painted front door. “I have a doorbell but I'll look out for your car," she added. It would be too embarrassing to have Nate come up to her tiny flat.
Nate gave her a curious look and she knew he had to be wondering why she lived in such a horrible place when he paid her a more than generous wage. Still, she didn't plan to stay there forever, it was just until her debts were cleared. Then she could look for somewhere better and move on.
"Well, thanks again for lunch. It was really nice." She released the seatbelt and hoped he wasn't expecting to be asked in for a drink.
"My pleasure. I'll see you tomorrow, Jen."
She knew he must be thinking her rude, but she simply couldn't bear to invite him into her shabby flat with its second-hand furniture. The permanent smell of old chips lingered from the takeaway despite her best efforts with potpourri and scented candles.
The cold wind hit her face as she climbed out of the car. Nate leaned across to pull the door shut and she smelt the faint musky scent of his cologne.
"Get an early night and don't worry about tomorrow. Everything will be fine, you'll see."
Jenni left the security of his presence behind and crossed the road. Alone once more, she could only hope he was right.
Chapter Two
Nate woke with a cry. His heart raced, and drops of sweat beaded his body. He looked at his watch. Three-thirty a.m. He groaned to himself and scrubbed his hands through his hair, hoping the action would rouse him enough to remove the remnants of his nightmare.
He slid out of the clammy cotton sheets and headed for the bathroom. Nate splashed his face with cool water to clear his head. The nightmare of the crash had been particularly vivid, even more than usual. It brought with it the now familiar feelings of guilt and loss.
He debated the idea of making himself a drink and returning to bed, but he knew he wasn't going to go back to sleep for a while. There was only one sure-fire method he had found to cope. He pulled on a dressing gown as he walked slowly downstairs to the study, switched on the computer and prepared to lose himself in his work.
* * * *
Jenni had spent a restless night. She had lain awake till the early hours of the morning as she tossed and turned on the narrow mattress of her single bed, unable to ignore the different scenarios of meeting her mother, which crept into her mind. What would her mother look like? How would she recognize her? Was she doing the right thing in allowing Nate to tag along?
To her surprise the last question had robbed her of nearly as much sleep as any of the others.
She had always been aware of Nate attractiveness, but because of his past—and her own—she had never allowed it to impact on her. She couldn't change her mind now.
She shook her head at her fancifulness, and concentrated on the other key problem—how to recognize her mother. Jenni knelt on the floor beside the bed and pulled out the battered grey metal box holding her most treasured possessions.
With a deep breath for courage, she pushed open the dented lid. Inside was her original birth certificate with the name her birth mother had given her—Chantelle.
Her adoptive father's voice rang in her head. "What kind of name was that to give a child? Of course we had to change it. People would have got entirely the wrong impression. We chose Jennifer, after my mother. Much more respectable."
She pushed the piece of paper carefully to one side and searched for the only photograph in her possession of the woman who had given birth to her. The indistinct blurry features smiled back at her, a woman younger than Jenni was now, dressed in the fashion of the day. Her mother, the woman who had called her Chantelle, and kept her for six months before giving her up for adoption.
After a shower, Jenni surveyed her wardrobe gloomily as she wondered what to wear. With a heavy sigh, she selected her smartest pair of jeans and the cornflower blue sweater Lorna had given her a few months before as a birthday gift. She would have to buy some new clothes soon. She couldn't keep putting it off. The annual Christmas dance was only a few weeks away and she knew Nate wouldn't let her slide out of attending this year.
He had already roped her in to organizing everything. She knew the rest of the employees looked forward to it. She found it difficult to picture Nate dressed as Santa Claus giving out gifts, but Lorna had assured her it was a company tradition.
The morning dragged by, although with the number of times Jenni checked her watch, it was hardly surprising.
The unexpected sound of the downstairs buzzer threw her into turmoil. It couldn't be Nate. If so, he'd come to fetch her far too early. She peered out of her lounge window only to see him standing on the pavement in front of the hairdressing salon.
As she opened the downstairs door to the cold wintry day, a figure holding a huge bunch of flowers unexpectedly confronted her.
"I took the liberty of bringing you these." Nate sounded muffled from behind the dazzling bouquet of pink carnations, purple freesias and babies breath.
"Well, um... Thank you." Jenni stammered with confusion. No one had ever given her flowers before.
"I don't suppose I could come in? It's rather cold out here."
Mortified by her bad manners, she accepted the bouquet and ushered Nate inside. "My flat is right up the stairs. Please sit down while I arrange these in some water."
Flustered, she hunted in her tiny kitchen for a container. Eventually she found a tall white china milk jug that had escaped the auction of her adoptive parents' belongings. She filled it with water and did her best to arrange the flowers in the makeshift vase. She carried it back through to the lounge where she set the precarious arrangement on the windowsill.
Nate had removed his leather jacket and sat down on the corner of her old-fashioned, overstuffed settee. The small lounge appeared even smaller
with Nate inside it. The corner of his mouth twitched as he gravely regarded her attempt at floristry, and her cheeks heated.
"Can I get you a drink of anything before we go? I think we've got time." She looked at her watch for the millionth time that day to check.
"A cup of tea would be nice. At least I know you're better at that than you are at flower arranging," he declared with a straight face as one of the carnations over-balanced and slid out of the jug.
"Oh, no!" Jenni dived to rescue it and restore it to the container, but giggles got the better of her and she decided to confess. "I don't actually have a vase. The milk jug was the best thing I could find." Her face burnt as she attempted to stuff the recalcitrant bloom back into the pot.
She scuttled into the kitchen before Nate could comment on her confession. Safe from view, she switched on the kettle and busied herself finding the mugs while she cooled down. Her lack of social skills bothered her as she'd never entertained anyone in her home before except Lorna.
With the tea made and feeling calmer, she carried the drinks back into the lounge and handed one to Nate. Jenni couldn't decipher his expression as he studied his surroundings. She'd done her best to make her room attractive; covering the sofas with colourful throws and hiding the ugly wallpaper with her artwork.
"Are the paintings your own work?"
Anxiety welled up inside Jenni as she watched him examine her pictures. She had never shown anyone except Lorna her pictures. In fact, no one else even knew she painted.
"These are very good." The genuine admiration in Nate's tone made her forget her diffidence for a moment.
"You really like them?" She had always done little pictures and sketches for her own pleasure but had learned as a child to keep it to herself, like so many other things.
"They're very good, Jenni. I didn't realize I had such a talented P.A."
Aware she must have a smile like a Cheshire cat, she blushed. Nate always praised her work at the office, but this felt different. More personal.
He drained his mug then examined his watch. "We ought to leave if you want to be there a little early."
With a few quick gulps she swallowed the rest of her drink. Nate pulled on his coat ready to leave as she took both mugs into the kitchen. She picked up her coat and bag from the hook by the door and felt the nerves of her stomach rebel against the hot fluid she had so hastily deposited in there.
As she climbed into Nate's car, she saw him through new eyes. His long legs, encased in dark denim jeans, emphasized his muscular thighs. The dark grey sweater he wore under his black leather jacket served to enhance his brooding good looks.
She pushed her glasses back up to the bridge of her nose and mentally vowed to fix the loose screw in the frame. It was high time she either bought new ones or changed to contact lenses. Another one of the expenses she had been delaying.
Halfway to the café, an urge to stop the car and run away swept through her. She couldn't decide which was worse: feeling so excited to be meeting her mother at last, or fear she might be making a terrible mistake and would end up getting hurt.
Nate parked the car a couple of streets away from the café. Jenni's legs shook as he helped her down from the car. However, the touch of his hand reassured her. He slipped his arm through hers, keeping it there as they made their way through the dingy back streets to the café.
The establishment appeared deserted, except for the sulky-faced teenage girl who half-heartedly filled sauce bottles at the counter. Jenni took a seat near the window so she could see anyone approach while Nate fetched them both cups of tea in pale green utility china cups.
"Do you have any idea what she looks like, Jenni?" he asked in a low voice on his return.
She reached inside her bag for the precious photograph. He studied it with care, looking first at the photo and then at Jenni.
"You have the same eyes." He sounded thoughtful.
Jenni tucked the photograph back inside her bag, and continued to look hopefully through the grimy window at the empty street outside.
Nate chatted amiably to while away the time—light, inconsequential conversation which made no demands of her. Time slipped away and the last vestiges of hope that her mother might still arrive died when Jenni realized the hands on Nate's watch had already slid round to three o'clock.
She blinked back the tears that threatened to brim behind her glasses, and gathered her bag, ready to leave.
"I'm sorry, Jenni." Nate slipped his arm around her shoulder and gave her a gentle hug.
"Why do you think she didn't come?" Disappointment gave way to anger. The feelings of resentment from long ago stirred in her heart.
Nate shrugged. "It could be anything, Jen. She might have had trouble getting away, a crisis at home or she simply might not have felt able to face you in the end. Maybe she was just scared."
She knew he was probably right, but it didn't stop her feeling that it wasn't fair to have her hopes built up, only to have them dashed at the last minute. But you should be used to disappointment, a voice murmured treacherously in her mind. You learned that from your adoptive parents too.
The grey, cold weather matched her feelings as they walked back through the side streets to the car. She felt guilty. Nate had given up a precious afternoon of his free time, all for nothing. She didn't feel sorry for herself often. Right now she wished with all her heart that fairy godmothers existed, and that hers would put in a belated appearance to magic her away from the whole sorry episode.
Nate opened the door of the car for her. "It was her loss, Jenni," he said. She peered at him through the sleet-spattered lenses of her glasses. Inside, she felt crushed and abandoned all over again.
"Any mother would be proud to have a daughter like you." He helped her up into the seat. The warmth of his hand on hers seared her cold flesh and he snatched his hand away, as if he had said too much.
He started the engine and pulled away from the curb. "What are your plans for tonight?"
His question took her by surprise. She answered him before she had time to think. "Nothing special."
"Good," he said. "You can come out to dinner with me."
She stopped wiping her glasses and turned to look at him. "Why?"
He threaded his way through the traffic, his gaze fixed on the road as he drove. "Why not? I'm not doing anything and neither are you. It's not been a great day, so why don't we go out and cheer ourselves up?" He made it sound so easy and reasonable.
The trouble was, he seemed to be asking her for the wrong reason. She knew Nate, and his "rescuing poor Jenni' act had to stop. She'd had quite enough for one day of feeling like a charity case.
"I think I'd rather just go home. Thanks, anyway." She schooled her voice to ensure she sounded decisive. Nate had steamrollered her before into doing things she didn't want to do.
"If you're tired, we don't have to go out," he countered. "We could go to my house. Eat pizza, watch a film." He glanced at her. "What do you say?"
She gave a deep sigh. "Nate, it's very kind of you, but you've done enough for me for one day. I really don't want to impose on you any longer."
"Who said you were imposing? I thought we were friends, Jenni." He sounded puzzled by her answer.
Jenni pondered the dilemma in silence. She didn't particularly want to go back to her grotty flat and be miserable on her own, but she didn't want people to hear she had spent personal time with her boss and get the wrong idea. She knew of Nate's devotion to Cerys' memory and felt certain he'd only asked her to dinner because he felt sorry for her. Why else would he ask her?
"Well?" They were at the traffic lights and he waited for her decision. Her brain stalled and as the lights turned green he made the move for her. "I have to walk Rufus. We should still have time to take him out before it gets completely dark."
Soon they were outside Nate's house. The lights were on downstairs and an old coaching lamp spilled a mellow golden glow over the front door. "Rose, my housekeeper, leaves th
e lights on when she finishes for the day. Rufus is a bit of a wimp. He doesn't like the dark much."
The wimp in question came bustling along the narrow hall to greet them both with enthusiasm at the front door. He sniffed Jenni with interest as she approached him carefully, unused to animals. "Far too much trouble. Smelly, dirty things and what about my allergies?" had been the response when she had once dared to raise the subject at home.
Nate clipped on Rufus's lead and they set off. They took a path through an alleyway further down the street, which led to a large field. Once inside the gates, Nate took off the dog's lead. Rufus streaked away to race around and around in the dusk. His breath billowed out in white steamy bursts.
It was very dark. The cloudy sky almost eclipsed last vestiges of dull red ruby sunset. A light breeze sprang up, whipping the long dead leaves from the trees at the edge of the field into little whispering heaps. Jenni shivered.
"You're cold. Come on, we'll head back." Nate whistled. After a last interested sniff at a nearby rabbit hole, Rufus trotted obediently back.
The street lamps lit up as they made their way back to the house. As they paused on the pavement outside the gates, Jenni made a last bid to escape. "Nate, I'm sure you'd really rather I weren't here. I can always call a cab, if you'd like."
"Jenni, if you really want to go, I'll take you home, but if it's just some stupid pride thing of yours, then forget it." He glared down at her. The streetlights highlighted the harsh planes of his face. "Look, if it makes you feel better, I'd like you to stay. I could use some company this weekend, and with you I know where I stand." He heaved an irritated sigh and raked his hand through his hair.
"Meaning?" Nate had aroused Jenni's curiosity. He never revealed much of his inner thoughts to anyone as far as she was aware.
"You know an invitation to dinner means dinner and nothing more. Other women seem to read more into it." He bit the words out. His dark blue gaze never left her face.
She swallowed. Well, that was plain enough. She was an asexual dinner date. Good job she didn't have an ego! "All right, in that case, I'd love to stay for dinner. I just didn't want you to have asked me because you felt sorry for me." Her mouth wobbled a little as she voiced her fears. She hoped the darkness would hide the tell-tale weakness.
