Jill Mansell Boxed Set

by Jill Mansell

  Gabe smiled briefly. ‘Trust me, all I have is a grumpy invalid waiting to give me an earful because she asked me to pick up a box of tea bags before I left the flat last night and I forgot.’

  ‘And you really don’t have another girlfriend waiting on the horizon?’

  ‘I really don’t.’

  ‘I just wasn’t right for you, is that it?’

  ‘Hey, you’ll be perfect for someone else. You know that.’ Gabe folded her into his arms and she clung to him.

  Against his chest Savannah mumbled, ‘I just have to find someone who likes bald girls. Mr Spock, maybe.’

  ‘Don’t think like that.’ He dropped a kiss on her forehead. ‘You’re beautiful with hair or without it. Be proud.’

  She smiled. ‘I’ll do my best. And if I ever decide to go public, you can be the one to take the photos.’

  Gabe gave her one last kiss. One last hug. ‘Sweetheart, it’d be an honor.’

  Chapter 41

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ cried Sally. ‘Another living breathing human being! After months of being marooned up here all alone, I finally have the chance to speak to someone—that’s if I can remember how to speak…’

  ‘You’re doing just fine.’ Nick grinned up at her from the pavement. ‘Want to buzz me in?’

  Did she want to buzz him in? Was he kidding? Hastily clonking through to the bathroom and slapping on a bit of powder and lipgloss, Sally clonked her way back through the flat and pressed the buzzer. Somewhat embarrassingly—but at the same time rather excitingly—she’d had a dream about Nick last night in which he’d taken her to the Summer Exhibition at the Royal Academy, flirted with her endlessly, and ended up showing her into a room containing a stunning sculpture of two life-sized bodies intertwined. Then, in front of all the other visitors milling about, he had begun to demonstrate exactly how the bodies were intertwined, whispering into her ear as he did so, ‘You bend your left leg like this and put your right arm around my waist like this…’

  Tap tap tap.

  Nick was now knocking on the door. All of a fluster, Sally fast-forwarded through the rest of the dream, where he’d started kissing her and running his hands over her body and a grumpy uniformed security guard had stomped up and announced that they couldn’t do that sort of thing here and Nick had said, ‘But, it’s art…’

  ‘Sally? Have you fallen over in there?’

  ‘Sorry.’ She opened the door, let him in. ‘I was just having a quick tidy-up.’

  Which was so ragingly obviously untrue, it was a wonder a thunderbolt didn’t strike her dead on the spot. But Nick, ever the gentleman, simply greeted her with a kiss on the cheek and said cheerfully, ‘How are you?’

  ‘Fed up. I feel like Robinson Crusoe. Gabe buggered off yesterday, God only knows where because he won’t tell me, and Lola’s gone out for the day with EJ. Gabe was supposed to pick up some tea bags yesterday but he didn’t, so I went all the way to the corner shop on my crutches… and when I got there they were shut! So then I had to hobble what felt like fifty miles down the road to the next shop and when I finally got there, they didn’t even sell PG Tips, only horrible cheap tea bags that taste of dust. I tell you, I’m so fed up with this stupid leg of mine I just want to chop it off.’

  ‘Oh dear.’ Nick was doing his best to keep a straight face.

  ‘And I’ve got blisters on my hands from using the stupid crutches.’ He was wearing his navy cashmere crew-neck sweater over a white shirt and cream chinos. With a jolt Sally realized that he’d been wearing the same sweater last night in her dream… well, until she’d pulled it off over his head.

  ‘So, not the best of days.’

  ‘You could say that.’ She broke into a smile to show she wasn’t a complete grump. ‘Not the best of weeks. See that?’

  ‘See what?’ Nick followed the direction of her gesturing hand.

  ‘That empty mantelpiece.’

  He frowned. ‘It’s not empty. There’s loads of things on it. Fairy lights, photos, candles…’

  ‘But no Valentine’s cards,’ said Sally. ‘That’s where I’d put my Valentine’s cards if I’d been sent any. But I haven’t been, so I couldn’t put them there. Because nobody sent me any. Not even one.’

  ‘I didn’t get any either.’

  ‘Didn’t you?’ Hooray for that. Mischievously she said, ‘Not even from Lola’s mum?’

  Nick laughed. ‘Especially not from Blythe. It’s OK, I think Lola’s come round at last to the idea that she’s not going to get us back together. Sweet of her to try, but let’s face it, we’re poles apart. That Disney happy ending was never going to happen.’

  Better and better. Sally began joyfully concocting an alternative happy ending starring… ta daa!… herself.

  ‘Anyway, this is the reason I dropped by.’ Nick took a couple of rolled-up leaflets from his pocket. ‘Lola’s got it into her head that we should be taking up badminton, so I’ve been to look at a couple of sports centers. I can leave these with you or slide them under her door.’

  All this way just to drop off a couple of leaflets? Was that true, or was he using it as an excuse to see her when he knew Lola wouldn’t be here?

  ‘Leave them with me. I’ll give them to her when she gets home. Where are you off to this afternoon? Somewhere nice, I expect. Having fun, meeting friends…’

  ‘The truth? There’s an account I should be doing some work on, but to be honest I’m not in the mood.’ Pausing to study her for a moment, Nick said, ‘How about if I invited you out to lunch, would that cheer you up?’

  ‘Really? Are you sure?’ Sally was barely able to conceal her delight.

  ‘Why not? Decent food, a few drinks, and good company.’ Nick’s grey eyes crinkled with amusement. ‘What could be nicer than that?’

  This was everything she’d hoped for and more. Every nerve ending zinging with possibilities, Sally said, ‘I can be ready in ten minutes.’ God, talk about fate bringing together two people who were perfect for each other. What a fantastic day this was turning out to be.

  ***

  Nick grew better and better looking as lunch progressed. By the time coffee arrived he was irresistible. The food had probably been good too but what with all the excitement and batting back and forth of scintillating one-liners interspersed with more deep and meaningful conversation, Sally hadn’t actually got around to eating much of it. Her stomach had shrunk to the size of a thimble and adrenaline production was in overdrive. It no longer mattered that Nick was Lola’s father because—thank God—he and Blythe had no intention whatsoever of getting back together. The hurdle had been removed as deftly as Houdini might escape simple handcuffs. And along with the hurdle, Sally felt her inhibitions disappearing too, possibly helped along by the bottle of wine she appeared to have played a large part in demolishing. Every time Nick topped up her glass and she half-heartedly protested, he reminded her that he was driving and it would be a shame to let it go to waste.

  Which it most certainly would have been. And now she was bathed in a delicious, warm top-to-toe glow. Semi-accidentally brushing her hand against his, Sally said, ‘So did you not want any more children or did it just never happen?’

  Nick looked momentarily startled at this about-turn. OK, they had been in the middle of a conversation about killing time at airports when your flight’s been delayed, but she was interested. It was always a nice thing to know.

  ‘Well, my ex-wife was never keen. She was a career woman, not really interested in kids. I couldn’t really force her to have them against her will.’ There, that was it; the last box ticked. Sally’s heart melted at the thought of this wonderful man wanting children and being cruelly denied them by his cold-hearted career-driven harridan of an ex.

  OK, he was now officially perfect. All her life she’d been getting herself involved with men who
ran a mile if you so much as mentioned babies. And everyone knew that older men made better fathers. Look at Michael Douglas; he doted on his gorgeous children and dazzling young wife.

  ***

  ‘Whoops, hang on, let me just…’

  Sally gave up the struggle to haul herself out of the passenger seat and allowed Nick to do the honors, providing a shoulder to lean on as she and her crutches navigated their way onto the pavement. By some miracle she didn’t trip over them. Gathering herself, she handed the front door key to Nick and said, ‘Coming in?’

  It was a rhetorical question. Of course he was. Nick said cheerfully, ‘I think someone has to make sure you don’t fall down the stairs, don’t you?’

  Sally took deep breaths; this was it, she knew it. Gabe was out, they had the place to themselves and the situation couldn’t be more perfect. Well, OK, it would have been a teenier bit more perfect if she didn’t have her gammy leg to contend with, but it certainly wasn’t going to stop them.

  Finally they reached the flat. Somewhat unromantically, Sally discovered, all the wine she’d drunk had found its way to her bladder and she was forced to excuse herself in order to visit the bathroom. Returning, she found Nick gazing out of the living-room window. Lit from behind, he had a profile like a Greek god.

  He turned, indicating the kitchen. ‘I put the kettle on. Thought you might like a coffee.’

  OK, it was time. He wanted her to be the one to make the first move. And he was smiling, waiting for her to make it. Approaching him—clunk—and taking care—clunk—not to bash into the coffee table, Sally smiled back then deliberately took her arms out of the crutches and propped them against the wall. Facing Nick, she said, ‘I don’t want a coffee.’

  ‘No? Well, that’s all right. You don’t have to have one.’ Amused, Nick said, ‘It’s not compulsory.’

  ‘Can you believe this is happening?’ Without the support of the crutches Sally felt herself beginning to sway.

  ‘Steady.’ He reached for her. ‘You’re not a stork.’

  Who wanted to be a stork? ‘It’s the last thing I expected.’ Sally gazed at him. ‘Is it the last thing you expected?’

  He looked bemused, frowned slightly. ‘Well, yes, but ice skaters do injure themselves, so I suppose there’s always a chance…’

  ‘Doesn’t matter.’ They appeared to be talking at cross purposes but Sally was beyond caring. ‘It won’t make any difference, I promise.’ Curling her arms around his neck, unable to hold back a moment longer, she lunged forward and kissed him passionately, full on the mouth.

  Chapter 42

  Making his way along Radley Road, Gabe slowed and looked up at the window of the flat. Puzzled by the sight of what appeared to be two people locked in a passionate embrace, he reached instinctively for the camera around his neck and peered through the long lens, adjusting it until it slid into focus.

  What the…?

  Gabe’s heart began to thud in his chest. Jesus. Sally and Lola’s father. Sally, wrapped around him like a scarf. Lola’s father… for crying out loud, how long had this been going on? How long had they been carrying on behind his back? And not only his back, Lola’s too, because she absolutely definitely didn’t know about this.

  Unable to watch any more, Gabe put down the camera and turned away. His hands were trembling and he felt as if he’d been punched hard in the stomach. Talk about sly, underhand, deceitful… How dare they? He swallowed and turned back; yes, they were still there, no longer kissing but only inches apart, holding each other and gazing into each other’s eyes, murmuring sweet nothings… So this was the kind of man Nick James was, nothing but a sleazy Lothario. How fucking dare he?

  ***

  Something truly horrible was happening. When Nick jerked away, Sally said, ‘Sshh, it’s OK, you don’t have to worry about Lola any more. She understands.’

  But Nick wasn’t looking relieved. More like horrified. Eyes wide with disbelief, he said, ‘This isn’t to do with Lola.’

  ‘Wh-what do you mean? I d-don’t understand.’ It came out as a whisper. ‘I thought you liked me.’

  ‘I do like you.’ Nick shook his head. ‘Of course I do,’ he insisted. ‘You’re Lola’s friend.’

  This was a nightmare. Sally felt sick and suddenly, hideously sober. In a lifetime of faux pas, this one took the biscuit. Never before had she made quite such a prize idiot of herself as this.

  ‘I’m so sorry.’ Nick was clearly mortified. ‘I had no idea.’

  That only made it worse.

  ‘No, I’m sorry. I thought you were flirting with me.’ At least she could be honest—there was no point in trying to pretend the kiss had been some kind of accident.

  Vehemently Nick shook his head. ‘I was just being friendly. I was glad we seemed to be getting on so well. I want my daughter’s friends to like me.’

  Humiliation was washing over Sally in waves; she’d liked him so much she was mentally already pregnant with their first child. How could she have got it so utterly, completely wrong? How was she ever going to erase the memory of that kiss from her brain? She’d never be able to forget the moment she launched herself at his mouth and felt him freeze in disbelief… oh, oh God…

  ‘Come on, sit down.’ Nick skillfully steered her away from the window and lowered her into a chair. ‘And don’t be upset. I’m incredibly flattered.’

  But not flattered enough to reciprocate her feelings, obviously.

  ‘You’re a beautiful girl. Any man would be proud to have you as his girlfriend.’

  Any man except you, obviously.

  ‘Look, I have to leave.’ Nick checked his watch, clearly lying but desperate to escape. ‘Why don’t I make you that coffee now, then I’ll be off.’

  Because I don’t want bloody coffee, I want a gallon of weedkiller.

  ‘And don’t worry, we’ll just pretend this never happened. Lola doesn’t need to know. I won’t tell her,’ Nick said gently. ‘I won’t breathe a word to anyone. That’s a promise.’

  ***

  It took Gabe half a minute to reach his car. He zapped open the door and sank into the driver’s seat, appalled by what he’d learned about himself in the last thirty seconds. Because he genuinely hadn’t had any idea, not even the remotest inkling, that the sight of Sally with another man could make him feel like this.

  Yet… it had. Despite the fact that she drove him insane on a daily basis, that she lived her life surrounded by clutter and chaos and that domestically they were about as compatible as Tom and Jerry, in the space of just a few seconds Gabe discovered that he was capable of white-hot jealousy where Sally was concerned. Because he didn’t want her to be seeing someone else.

  Oh God, now he knew he was going stark staring mad. Sally, of all people. Gabe groaned aloud and rubbed his hands over his face. This couldn’t be happening; he didn’t want to want her. She was the last person on the planet he needed to get involved with.

  Except… well, that wasn’t going to happen anyway, was it? It wasn’t as if it was even an option, because she was already involved with someone else.

  Bloody hell, Lola’s dad. How long had that been going on? And they’d been keeping it very quiet, although this was hardly surprising given the circumstances. Lola was currently doing her damnedest to get her mum and dad back together. If Nick and Sally were prepared to take the risk of her discovering that one of her best friends had pinched him instead… well, it had to be serious.

  Gabe felt sick. First Savannah, then a puncture on the M4 on the way back to London, and now this. What a ridiculous situation to be in.

  Seeing as he couldn’t go back to the flat for a while, Gabe switched on the ignition. The car radio came to life, belting out an REM classic. Michael Stipe, never the cheeriest of souls, sang mournfully, ‘Eeeeeeeeeverybody huuuuuurrrrrrts…’

 
Hmm, with Sally’s track record the chances were that she was the one who’d end up getting hurt.

  ‘Eeeeeeeverybody huuuuuuurrrrts—’

  Oh, do shut up. Impatiently Gabe jabbed the off button, cutting Michael Stipe off in mid-warble. Who was he trying to kid? Right now, he was the one hurting. Jealousy was a new sensation and it was gnawing away in his chest like battery acid.

  He didn’t like this feeling one bit.

  ***

  Sally was in the kitchen when Gabe arrived home at midnight. Hobbling out in her dressing gown clutching a packet of Kettle chips, she watched him shrug off his jacket.

  ‘Where have you been? You look awful.’

  Gabe glanced at her. ‘Not looking so fantastic yourself.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Sally already knew she looked like poo. Feeling sorry for yourself and having a good old two-hour blub in the bath was capable of doing that to you. She’d tried to scrub away the shame of having made an idiot of herself but it hadn’t worked. Basically, as far as men were concerned, she always had been and always would be a walking disaster.

  OK, a limping one.

  But at least Gabe didn’t know about this afternoon’s debacle with Nick. Attempting normality Sally said, ‘Been working all this time?’

  He shrugged. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Any good shots?’

  ‘No.’ Gabe was standing stiffly by the window gazing out into the darkness, his streaky blond hair disheveled and his hands now stuffed into the pockets of his ancient jeans.

  Annoyed by the fact that he hadn’t even noticed, Sally said, ‘Spot the difference?’

  His jaw was taut. ‘What?’

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, if this is how observant you are it’s no wonder you miss out on all the best photos! How does this room look to you?’

  This time his gaze swept over the floor, the sofa, the coffee table. ‘Have you tidied up a bit?’

  ‘A bit?’ Incredulous, Sally exclaimed, ‘I tidied up a lot. Even with my bad leg! I cleared stuff away, put a load of magazines out for recycling, polished the table with Mr Sheen… I took all my lipsticks and hair things off the window sill…’