Playing by the Rules

by Imelda Evans

  She was prevented from discovering precisely how wrong it was, though, by the lift doors opening again. Unfortunately, the timing meant that Jo and Alain got a second close-up of her wrapped in Josh’s arms and the view appeared to be having much the same effect as it had the last time.

  Alain removed his finger from the lift button, put one arm across the open door so it couldn’t close again and, with the other hand, reached out to Kate.

  ‘Kate, can I talk to you?’

  He had spoken in French, which was rude, but Kate, normally such a stickler for manners, barely noticed. She was too preoccupied with his question. Because she thought the answer was no.

  This was crazy. She should be jumping at the chance to talk to him. But she wasn’t. There was a cold space in her heart where excitement should have been, and the unresolved issue of what Josh was to her was still hammering around her head, threatening to give her the mother of all headaches. She felt her mouth go dry and sweat start to bead on her forehead; then a sickening realisation hit her stomach with a thud.

  Alain was going to ask her to take him back – and she didn’t know whether she wanted him.

  She shivered in Josh’s arms and he tightened them around her protectively. Then, before she knew what was happening, he switched to holding her hand and pulled her out of the lift to face Alain. He looked, Kate thought (apart from the lack of armour and sword), exactly like a knight about to save a maiden from a dragon.

  ‘Look mate, it’s late and Kate is tired. I don’t think now is a good time.’

  Alain bridled visibly and drew himself up to his full height. Kate couldn’t help noticing that the tactic, which would normally have been so successful, was wasted on Josh, since he was still about an inch taller of the two. Nor could she help feeling a small surge of pleasure at the fact, although she did her best to ignore it. It seemed likely to start up that whole is-he-a-friend-or-is-he-something-else cycle of thoughts again and she didn’t think her head was up to that.

  ‘I don’t think that’s any of your business, do you? I am here to see Kate.’

  This time, Alain had spoken in flawless, although accented, English. But Josh clearly took exception to his tone. He dropped Kate’s hand and stepped forward, until he was almost toe-to-toe with Alain, and spoke quietly, but with a world of menace in his voice.

  ‘Well, she doesn’t want to see you.’

  Kate looked from Alain to Josh and back again, suddenly reminded that when knights went out to battle dragons the results were usually not pretty. The two men were glaring at each other with naked dislike. Josh’s eyes were nearly black with antagonism and Kate could have sworn she could smell testosterone. Their aggression was so palpable she could almost see it, coming off the pair of them in waves and swirling in eddies around the hallway. It looked as though it was only a matter of time before one of them started swinging with more than words.

  Watching them, Kate had to wonder whether fantasies were all they were cracked up to be. Wasn’t it supposed to be the ultimate, flattering fantasy to have two men fighting over you? Yet she didn’t feel at all flattered by this; instead, she felt a little scared, a lot nauseous and very, very tired. The butterflies that had been in her stomach earlier had moved into her head and the threatening headache had become a reality. With a sigh, she stepped forward and put a hand on each man’s arm.

  ‘Stop it, both of you.’

  Neither of them moved. Kate sighed again, and added ‘Please?’, looking at Josh. He was visibly reluctant to back down, but in response to Kate’s plea, he removed his wary gaze from Alain for long enough to look at her. Kate’s eyes achieved what her words had not been able to. With a shrug, he stepped back to stand next to Jo, and Kate gratefully turned to Alain.

  ‘Alain, I am tired. I have no idea what you think you are doing here —’ He tried to interrupt, but she held up a hand to silence him. ‘—and I don’t want to know. Not now. I’m exhausted, and I am going to bed. Go away. If you must see me, you can come back tomorrow. Don’t come before midday, and ring first, in case Jo wants to go out before you get here. You’re not exactly popular in this household.’

  The last bit was probably unnecessary; if Alain had been in any doubt about his lack of popularity, a look at the face of either of the other two people in the hallway would have disabused him. But Kate was beginning to feel quite ill and now that the shock of seeing him had worn off, resentment at his ruining what had promised to be the best bit of the evening was taking its place. If she didn’t get away from him and get some breathing and thinking space soon, she wasn’t going to need Josh’s help to turn this whole thing quite ugly.

  She turned her back on Alain and gave Jo and Josh a tiny smile. It did not escape either of them that she hadn’t managed as much for Alain.

  ‘Josh, thank you for a lovely evening. I really appreciate you coming,’ she said, stretching up to kiss him on the cheek. It had been more weird and exhausting than completely lovely, but there was no way she was going to admit that in front of Alain. Josh looked as if he would have liked to insist on more than a chaste peck, but there was no way she going there in front of Alain, either. Not again. She shook her head at Josh and immediately regretted it, as she felt her brain bounce off the inside of her skull. She turned, gingerly, to Jo.

  ‘Jo, goodnight. I’ll talk to you in the morning, all right?’ Jo started to speak, but Kate wasn’t waiting for an answer. She didn’t dare. She turned and almost ran into the flat.

  Left Kate-less in the hallway, there was nothing for Alain to do but go. With a scowl, he shouldered the bag that had been lying by the door and pressed the button for the lift. Then, apparently as an afterthought, he turned back to speak to Jo.

  ‘I trust it is all right with you, if I return tomorrow?’

  Jo nodded, looking surprised and rather impressed, that he had thought to ask. Josh felt like telling him it was far from all right, but he held his peace. Then the lift arrived and Alain was gone.

  Josh expressed his relief by grabbing Jo in a bear hug that lifted her off her feet and left the imprint of her bag on her stomach.

  ‘Oof! Josh! Put me down!’ He obliged and she took a couple of deep breaths, having apparently had all of the air knocked out of her by the force of the hug. ‘God, Josh, can you warn me next time before you do that? Just to give me a chance to put down any pointy, metallic objects I happen to be holding.’

  ‘Well, now we’ve got rid of him, I’d say it’s time for bed, wouldn’t you, little sister?

  ‘Oh, no you don’t.’ Jo had got her breath back and, to his surprise, moving with a speed that would have astonished her old schoolmates, she had whipped past Josh and was standing blocking the door to the flat.

  ‘You are not staying here tonight.’

  ‘But we talked about this, Jo. You said I could sleep on the couch tonight. And I promised not to whinge about it being too short. Remember?’

  He accompanied this with what he hoped was an ingratiating smile, but Jo wasn’t swayed.

  ‘That was before tall, blonde and handsome showed up.’

  ‘He is not handsome!’

  ‘Like you’d know! Stick to what you understand, brother dear. And don’t change the subject. You are not staying.’

  ‘Jo, I’m not leaving Kate alone with that gorilla hanging around!’

  ‘Last time I looked, Josh, the only person hanging around was you. And what am I, anyway? Chopped liver? Kate isn’t alone. I’m here. Besides, she seemed perfectly capable of handling the gorilla herself, thank you very much. He’s just an ex-boyfriend, after all.’

  ‘Just as long as he stays ex,’ Josh muttered.

  ‘Yes, and that’s another thing,’ Jo said, with a look on her face that reminded Josh unnervingly of their mother. ‘Whatever Alain is here for, Josh, it is None. Of. Your. Business.’ Jo could ram a point home with the best of them, and her last words had been enunciated with a crystal sharpness that had Josh wincing as though she had stabbed him with
them.

  ‘I mean it, Josh. Look, I think he’s a bastard too, but if he has come here to apologise, maybe he’s not as big a bastard as we think. And if that’s the case, she might want him back.’ She held up her hand as if to stop him from interrupting her, but she wasn’t really in much danger. The idea of Kate taking Alain back had hit Josh like one of Kate’s basketballs to the diaphragm and he had no breath for talking. ‘Now, we might not like that, but it’s not our decision. So we – and by we, I specifically mean you – need to stay out of it.’

  Jo had been pacing up and down in front of the door as she spoke, her body betraying an agitation she was carefully keeping from her voice. But then she looked at Josh and gave him a hug.

  ‘Josh, hon, I don’t know what’s going on between you two. I’m not sure you do yourself. But whatever it is, it’s less than a fortnight old. Kate and Alain have a much longer history than that. She has to at least talk to him. Surely you can understand that?’

  Josh nodded, although he really wanted to shout that no, he didn’t understand, that he would never understand and that he didn’t want to understand.

  ‘Now, love, I really think it would be best for you to go home. Back to Mum and Dad’s, I mean. Come back tomorrow. Tomorrow night might be best. She told Alain not to come before lunchtime, and it’s probably better to let her get that over with before she sees you.

  ‘Besides,’ she added, with a faint version of her normal cheeky grin, ‘judging by the look of her, I don’t think Kate is going to be at her sparkling best first thing tomorrow morning.’

  Josh tried to smile back, but he didn’t do a very good job. Jo didn’t comment. She just kissed him on the cheek, gave him another quick hug and went inside, closing the door behind her.

  For several minutes, Josh stood there in silence, looking at the door. He accepted the sense of everything Jo had said. But his heart was locked in the flat with Kate, and it wasn’t listening to sense. What if she did want Alain back? Was he supposed to lie down and take that? Even if it was wrong for her? Even though he, Josh, loved her?

  Because he did. He knew that now.

  Josh thumped his closed fist into his thigh in frustration. Hard. Then he did it again. It hurt, but the pain was a welcome distraction from the ache in his chest. This was unacceptable. He couldn’t stand by and let her go back to that French git. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. There had to be another way. He had to think!

  So he thought. Pacing up and down, as Jo had, running his hands though his hair, he thought. And before long he felt the beginnings of a smile turning up the corners of his mouth.

  So what if Alain had come back? That was a setback, but not the end of the story. He hadn’t expected to have to fight Alain for Kate. Until tonight, he hadn’t even known how much he wanted her. But he did now. He wanted her more than he had ever wanted anything. If he had to fight for her, fight he would. And he would fight to win. Not physically, of course. Kate had already shown she would take a fairly dim view of that. But there was more than one way to win a fight. All was fair in love and war – and this was both.

  With a sudden resolve, Josh reached for his keys and headed for the lift. Tonight had been a skirmish. Tomorrow the battle would start in earnest – and he would be ready.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Kate looked at the cup of coffee that Jo had put in front of her and thought about the difference a week could make. A week ago at this time she had been perfectly well, but miserable because Alain was thousands of miles away. Now she was hungover and miserable because Alain was here and wanting to be with her. It was very confusing.

  Kate sank her head onto her hand and examined her feelings yet again. Last week, she had been ambivalent about Alain. She had simultaneously wanted never to see him again and half-hoped that he’d walk through the door. Today, she couldn’t even muster the energy to be angry. Virtually overnight, she had become indifferent to a man with whom she had spent more than a year of her life. A week ago, she would have given anything to see him, if only to slap him; today she was dreading his arrival. It was way more than confusing. It was frightening.

  She did her best to rationalise this sea change. She tried to convince herself that she had finally come to terms with ‘moving on’. She tried to believe that Jo’s advice and her cure for the ‘loser boyfriend blues’ had worked. She tried to persuade herself that dancing, drinking and sightseeing had cured her of the man she had thought was ‘the one’.

  But none of it worked. She knew perfectly well that the difference between last week and this morning had nothing to do with clothes, or booze, or dancing, or attitude. Instead, it had everything to do with skin the colour of the latte rapidly going cold in front of her; with long wiry hands; with curly black hair; with a body to die for; and eyes so deep and dark she could get lost in them.

  Kate rubbed her eyes and groaned. The problem was that knowing that Josh was the source of the change didn’t help. It made things even more bewildering.

  Kate put her head up and winced as a stray shaft of sunlight slipped through the curtains and shone straight into her eyes. For about the fiftieth time since she had hit the bathroom the night before, she wondered what she had been thinking, to drink so much. She’d drunk more in the past week than she had in the past year. If this was what happened when she changed her usual routine, no wonder she stuck to it so religiously under normal circumstances.

  The doorbell rang. It sounded, to Kate’s already hurting head, like an avalanche of anvils and she cursed Jo under her breath. It was all very well to go out for fruit – Kate agreed that it was probably what she needed right now – but could she not have used her bloody key to get back in? Did she have to ring the doorbell?

  Kate flounced down the hallway. She would have liked to stomp, but her bare feet wouldn’t have been very effective stompers, and her fragile head wasn’t up to the thumping, anyway. So she flounced, and arrived at the door in a fine temper. She wrenched the door open, prepared to give Jo a piece of her throbbing mind, and saw Josh standing on the mat.

  It wasn’t the first time Kate had stood stupidly in Jo’s doorway, staring at Josh and lost for words. This time, though, Josh didn’t wait to be invited in. He pushed gently past her and then leaned over the bag of groceries in his arms to kiss her, very delicately, on the cheek.

  ‘Are we feeling a tiny bit fierce this morning?’

  ‘More than a little,’ Kate replied, wondering whether she should object to the kiss. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t kissed her a lot more thoroughly than that. It was more that now, with Alain back in the picture, nothing to do with Josh was simple any more.

  Although, to be fair, it never had been simple. Not really. And it was hardly surprising. Take one old crush, pass him off as a new fiancé, mix in a broken heart, a couple of mothers and a best friend with ideas and things were bound to get complicated.

  Not that he seemed to think that anything was complicated. He had disappeared down the hallway to the kitchen and she could hear him singing and bashing about, as though he hadn’t a care in the world. Maybe she was being oversensitive. Maybe that was what happened when you were so blinded by lust for someone that all they had to do was walk in the door with a bag of shopping and kiss you on the cheek to leave you clinging to the doorknob for support.

  Kate closed the door deliberately and made herself walk slowly and sensibly down the hallway. She would get a hold of herself if it killed her. She had got herself – and him – into this mess and she would get them out of it. Somehow.

  By the time she reached the kitchen Josh had covered the bench with fruit, cheese and bread and was squeezing oranges. Kate wondered inconsequentially how he had managed to find the squeezer and boards and things so quickly in an unfamiliar kitchen. She was still finding her way around and she had been there nearly two weeks. She shook her head in wonder. It must be a sibling thing.

  ‘If you are wondering where Jo is,’ Josh said out of the blue, ‘when last seen, she
was at the coffee shop downstairs drinking espresso and arguing with the owner about the merits of the Bauhaus movement. I have a feeling,’ he said, raising one eyebrow, ‘that he got her going deliberately. They both seemed to be enjoying themselves.’

  He smiled at her, and Kate risked a smile back. Surely the coffee shop was a nice, straightforward subject of conversation? Maybe she could get through this interaction without things between them getting any more involved. Then Josh walked over to her, handed her a glass of orange juice and kissed her again – on the lips this time.

  It was the briefest brush of skin and he moved back to the bench straight away, but Kate was still left feeling decidedly wobbly. She sat down.

  She really should stop him now. The kiss on the cheek was one thing, but the one on the lips was quite another. Until she’d spoken to Alain, she really needed to keep a respectable distance from Josh. There were rules about these things. At least, she was sure there must be. And she was pretty certain that kissing someone who was about to be proposed to by someone else was well outside those rules.

  The problem was that it didn’t feel wrong. It felt lovely. It felt right. It felt . . . comfortable. But it had no business feeling comfortable! She couldn’t get comfortable about Josh making her breakfast and kissing her while he did it. That was couple behaviour, and they were not a couple. They weren’t going to be a couple. She was leaving at the end of the week and, as far as she knew, so was he. Maybe some people could play couples for a fortnight – maybe Josh could – but she couldn’t. That way madness, and a broken heart, lay.