“You’re very kind.”
“The perfect gentleman,” he said dryly.
“So I read on your form.” Fen’s lips twitched.
“Hmm.” He looked as though he would say more, no doubt about his dubious membership of Discreet Liaisons and how he wanted to wriggle off the Lucinda hook, but then changed his mind. Phew, Fen didn’t feel able to battle with him this morning.
“I’ll be in touch,” he said. “Get better.”
Fen shut the door. Leaning against it, she blew out a long, heartfelt sigh. That had been an unexpected encounter. She hadn’t thought to meet James McAllister quite so soon, if ever. And she was pleased he’d presumed she suffered from the flu. It was refreshing having someone treating her as a normal person rather than pussyfooting around, trying not to upset her.
Since the accident, family and friends had smothered her with love. She didn’t doubt their sincerity, but it was cloying all the same. James McAllister wasn’t hampered by the pity which had paralyzed her close relationships since the hit and run.
The accident had caused multiple injuries, including her legs that had been badly broken. Even her face had had to be reconstructed as her cheekbones had shattered on impact with the pavement. The result had been endless months in hospital with lots of painful surgery and excruciating physiotherapy. Fen had known from the outset her dancing would be a thing of the past, but the fact walking was a debatable reality had really rattled her.
But she hadn’t given up. She’d pig-headedly refused to accept she might never walk again and had embarked on a grueling exercise program. Months down the track, she still couldn’t move with the fluid grace of a ballerina, but she could limp along on crutches. It was only a matter of time and endurance before she would be able to throw them away and walk unaided.
****
James skirted puddles to return to his car. He turned up his collar against the driving rain and won himself some icy trickles down his neck. Brilliant. What a horrible day to be out. At least he’d established Fenella Grant wasn’t dying, though she’d looked damn close to it with her drawn, frail face and her dark blue eyes so bruised and sad.
He had to admit she wasn’t what he’d expected. She stood a good few inches shorter than he’d imagined, probably because he was so used to dating models. Her face was as white and translucent as the petal of an iceberg rose, as if she’d been ill for a long period of time. Her almost black hair had been butchered within an inch of its life and spiked across her skull so she resembled a pixie who’d suffered an electric shock. To be fair, she’d only just fallen out of bed, a fact borne out by those crazy, furry-cat pajamas. He hadn’t realized women wore those sorts of things. The women of his acquaintance wore silky, sexy negligees, not get-ups better suited to a kindergarten sleepover.
If Fenella Grant had been in better shape, James would have tackled her about this Lucinda problem. There was no way he wanted to go on the date, because he didn’t hold a shred of belief that it would be enjoyable. But there was no method of contacting Lucinda Burton and canceling. Sighing deeply, his breath pluming white around him, James cranked up the engine of his silver Jensen and shunted the heat controls on high. It was time to head for home and catch up on his lack of sleep so he would be in top form to handle the not-so-vulnerable Lucinda Burton.
****
At two minutes to eight James sat in his car with the heater blasting high. He parked outside the Talisman Club and stared morosely at the neon lights blazing over the nightclub door. He couldn’t believe he was facing his first ever blind date. He was going to be forty tomorrow. He wasn’t some spotty-faced teenager desperate for a girl. Fenella Grant, sick or not, had an awful lot to answer for. And when she was better, he’d demand it.
He was tempted to drive away and leave Lucinda Burton to her own devices, even if Fenella had claimed the woman was vulnerable. He didn’t believe her, not after talking to Lucinda on the phone. But it wasn’t in his character to stand a woman up on a date. He sighed. Being a gentleman wasn’t always a riot.
The deafening music hit James as soon as he entered the club. It pounded around him and through him, assaulting his eardrums and thumping a beat deep within his chest.
He’d never been to the Talisman before and after a brief scan of the bold flashing lights and gyrating dancers, he knew without a doubt he wouldn’t be returning. He preferred something understated and quiet. As he headed for the bar he noticed a woman regarding him in the mirror that ran the full length of the bright red counter. She was noticeable because of her tight fitting, black sparkly dress and hair that matched the riotous red of the bar.
He hoped the woman wasn’t Lucinda. He couldn’t be so unlucky.
She smiled. There was nothing vulnerable about her smile. It’d be an appropriate one for a vampire making ready to suck his blood.
He prayed she wasn’t Lucinda.
The woman smiled wider and wiggled her finger in a coy little wave. The fingernail was tipped in scarlet varnish.
James’ heart sank. Was she his prospective date?
“James?” she said over the loud base beat of the music, her voice low and throbbing with a suggestive base beat of its own.
His heart sank lower than the floor.
“Lucinda?”
“Glad you could make it, honey.” She held up her glass of red wine and gave him a slow, meaningful once-over. “Here’s to us, party boy. Let’s enjoy.”
****
“Vulnerable! That woman is a man-eater!”
Fen held the phone away from her ear and tried not to giggle.
“Did you hear me?” yelled James.
“Only just. So I gather you had a good evening,” said Fen unable to keep her chuckle at bay.
“You may well laugh, Ms. Grant. You didn’t have to endure it. That Burton woman is a predator. I was lucky to escape in one piece.”
Fen tried to say something soothing but her giggles spilled down the line. They fell on stony silence.
“Are you still there?” she said, hiccoughing and trying to clear her throat. She must compose herself. This was no way to run a business, laughing at the misfortunes of her clients. What was she thinking?
“Yes. Have you quite finished with your ill-timed mirth?”
Another bubble of laughter rose to the surface and escaped before she could stop it. Fen tried to cover it up with a bout of forced coughing. “Sorry.”
“So you should be.”
“I’ll fix you up with someone less… strident next time. Just tell me the sort of women you like to date.”
“You must be out of your mind. There will be no next time.”
“But you have a whole year’s membership.”
“I don’t want it. Give it to someone who’s desperate.”
“No, it’s all yours. I must apologize about Lucinda. She’s in a class of her own. She’s a lovely person but she can be a little overpowering. I do have some other women in my files who you may find more to your taste.”
“I’m not having a repeat of last night.”
“It can’t have been that bad.”
“Worse.”
Another giggle escaped. Fen clamped her hand over her mouth but she feared she was too late. He was cranky enough without her continuing to laugh at him.
A short, pregnant silence ensued. “How about I tell you how bad over a drink?” asked James, his voice suddenly soft, as if he was no longer angry, as if he’d forgiven her.
Oops. His suggestion put an abrupt stop to Fen’s giggles. James McAllister being nice to her was unexpected. She hadn’t been out with anyone since her accident. She might tee up dates for the rest of the world, but for herself, she didn’t feel ready to cope.
“I appreciate the invitation, Mr. McAllister,” she said with a no-nonsense coolness. “But I think it’s best if we keep our relationship strictly professional.”
“We don’t have a relationship, Ms. Grant,” said James dryly. “But if you’re talking about
keeping things businesslike, shouldn’t you humor your clients and arrange the sort of dates they request?”
“Yes, true, but you just quit your membership, so no can do.”
“But you refused to accept my resignation.”
“I’ve changed my mind.”
“So have I. I withdraw my resignation and reinstate myself as a fully paid up member of Discreet Liaisons.”
“You can’t,” she protested.
“I just did.”
“You are the most difficult person I know.” She tried to keep the stroppiness out of her tone.
James laughed. “Ditto,” he said. “Which means we should be well suited. A good match. Excellent. Right, when can we meet?”
Never sounded like a good idea! Fen did some rapid thinking. How could she get out of this one? “It’s Sunday. I don’t work on Sundays. I’ll contact you during the week.” At least that would buy her some time.
“I won’t be fobbed off, Ms. Grant.”
“Who said I was fobbing you off?” Her voice rose to a squeak. Fen could have kicked herself.
“Just checking.”
His mildness didn’t fool her. He knew she was lying, too. But Fen vowed she’d fob him off if it were the last thing she did. “Look, I’m sorry, James, but I really must go. I’ve a hundred and one things to do before the day is through.”
“But—”
“I’ll talk to you soon.” Fen hung up quickly and took a deep, steadying breath. Maybe it was time to go and stay at her parents for a bit of a holiday. Better still, she’d go and see her sister Lynette who was long overdue for a sisterly visit. She would understand why Fen had to hole up for a while and shower her with sisterly sympathy.
Chapter Three
Fen made it down to her sister’s beautiful Sussex flint farmhouse by lunchtime. The Sunday roast was in the oven, vegetables and gravy bubbling on the hob. The sisters sat at the scrubbed pine table and sipped a sherry while they waited for the carrots to cook.
“Well, this is an unexpected pleasure,” said Lynette, clinking Fen’s glass with her own and raising her eyebrows in a silent question.
Fen smiled at her sister affectionately, knowing it was only a matter of time before Lynette wheedled out of her the reason for Fen’s sudden dash south.
Lynette was five years older than Fen’s thirty-one. Her hair was nearer brown than black and much longer than Fen’s cropped style. Before the accident, Fen’s own hair had been exceptionally long, flowing down to below her waist. When she danced usually she’d swept it into a tight bun. On occasion, though, the character had called for her hair to be loose and it would flow about her lithe frame in lustrous black waves.
But that was once upon a time. The medical staff had shaved it off to deal with her head injuries. Since then Fen had kept it short because it still hurt to raise her arms above her head to wash and brush it. One day she planned to grow it long again.
“I thought it was about time I paid my favorite sister and her gorgeous family a visit,” she said with a bland smile.
Lynette snorted. “I’m your only sister, though I concede that the rest are gorgeous. But I shan’t be deflected. Why are you here? It’s not like you to come on an unscheduled visit.”
Unbidden, the image of the darkly attractive James McAllister rose before Fen. As it had been doing all through the night, wickedly teasing her into distracted insomnia. Was there no getting away from him? She sighed, “I needed a bolt hole for a few days.”
“Because?”
“A client wants to date me rather than my clientele.”
Lynette grinned. “Sensible man, so why don’t you want to go? Does he have two heads and a hunchback?”
“No. One head and no hunchback, though he does have a broken nose.”
“I meant is he ugly?” Lynette wrinkled her nose.
“No. But he’s not exactly handsome either.”
“Nasty habits?” Lynette waggled her eyes brows in an all-knowing way.
Fen giggled. “Not that I know of.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“It’s against the rules of the agency.”
“You wrote the rules.”
“And I’m hiding behind them,” admitted Fen with rueful honesty.
“Ah hah!” Lynette sounded triumphant.
“And what’s ‘ah hah’ supposed to mean?”
“You like him!”
“Yes, I suppose I do. But I’m not ready for the dating game again.”
“Why ever not?” Lynette rolled her eyes in exasperation. “You’ve been doing great since the accident.”
“I still can’t walk unaided.”
“But obviously that hasn’t put him off so far.”
Fen nibbled her lower lip and gave a small shrug before wrapping her arms defensively around her body. “Actually, he doesn’t know.”
Lynette’s jaw dropped. “But you have met him?”
“I was holding on to the door at the time. Most of our conversations have been on the phone.”
“Oh.” Lynette’s eyebrows disappeared into her hairline as she regarded her sister with fascinated curiosity. “So what’s the big deal? Just tell him.”
Fen took another sip of sherry and then stared down into the amber liquid, working out how to say what she felt without giving offense.
“Fen?”
“You and the rest of the family and my friends have been great since the accident,” Fen said in a sudden rush. “But you all treat me so…carefully. As though I might break or be hurt or something. He doesn’t. He treats me like he would any other person. I don’t want to invoke his sympathy or his pity. I want him to treat me as an equal.”
Lynette sucked in a sharp breath. “I’m sorry if you feel we don’t treat you right.”
“I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful.” Her sister’s tone was defensive, and Fen reached across the table to clasp her sister’s hand. “I’ve lapped up all the attention.”
“Yes, but Fen, you have to understand, when you had your accident we died a little that day. It hurt us too, you know. We love you.” Her fingers moved to entwine with Fen’s.
Fen squeezed affectionately. “I know and I love you too, sis.”
Lynette sniffed and then blew her nose on a flimsy bit of tissue she drew from her skirt pocket. “But how can this man not know about your disability?”
“I don’t know. All I do know is that I’m safe from him while I’m here. It’ll give me time to figure out what to do next.”
Later that evening, Fen’s sister dragged her to her friend’s surprise birthday party. She had begged to be allowed to stay at the farmhouse and babysit her niece and nephew.
Lynette pointed out that she’d already booked the teenage babysitter who would be disappointed if she was canceled at the last minute. “And it’ll do you good to socialize, Fen,” she’d declared.
Fen doubted it, but she was no match against her big sister’s insistence and she was soon decked out in one of Lynette’s dresses, a rich black velvet affair with a medieval style bodice that dipped low and criss-crossed in front with ribbon lacing. The outfit was set off by a pair of Lynette’s flamboyant dangling silver filigree earrings and matching necklace. Though she admitted she looked good, Fen still had to steel herself to enter the Tudor-style manor house where the party was being held.
“I’m not taking my crutches in there,” declared Fen when she saw all the cars parked nose to tail in the sweeping driveway. “I’ll damage people’s ankles. How about I just sit in the car and listen to the radio.”
“No way,” said Lynette. “You’re not staying out here. You’ll freeze to death. You can leave the crutches in the car and just hold on to either Mike or I. We’ll steer you to a comfy place where you can sit down and meet loads of interesting people.”
“Can’t wait,” muttered Fen and received a sympathetic glance from her brother-in-law who had also tried unsuccessfully to avoid the party.
“So whose bash i
s it?” asked Fen once they had gained the top of the stone steps and peered into the people-packed paneled hallway. Liberal quantities of glossy-leafed, red-berried holly and gold and green streamers festooned the hall’s rafters and banisters. A big Christmas tree took pride of place, its pine scent spicing the air. Fen grimaced. Christmas was only a couple of weeks away, and she hadn’t yet strung up one bauble or sent a single card. There simply hadn’t been the will or the inclination.
“The party’s for the brother of my friend Annabelle. Oh, look, there she is over there. Hi, Annabelle!” Lynette was off.
Mike and Fen shared a resigned glance.
“Best get you settled, love,” said Mike. “Then I’ll find us both a nice long drink. We can relax while we blend into the tapestries.”
“You are the very best of brother-in-laws.” Fen kissed him on the cheek.
He found her an alcove window seat where the heavy, gold brocade curtains had been drawn against the bitter night. The room was already overpoweringly warm, and Fen sat there trying to look interested in a potted aspidistra rather than attempt small talk. She really shouldn’t have come. She hated this sort of affair.
A little while later, a commotion by the door sounded and a spontaneous singing of happy birthday. The guest of honor had arrived. This was what everyone had been waiting for.
Fen sent up a fervent prayer of thanks. Now she could go home–if only she could pry Lynette away from her partying. Out of curiosity, Fen craned her neck to locate the birthday boy. Through the sea of faces, one man stood out above the rest. Fen froze.
No! It couldn’t be! Life couldn’t be that cruel.
The man was devastatingly attractive in his dinner jacket. His brown hair was brushed smooth in a slicked back style to reveal a strong forehead. His shoulders were broad without the aid of coat padding. He smiled with sweet politeness as he accepted birthday greetings from the crowd around him. The women were jostling to kiss him while the men shook his hand.
Fen gulped, panic causing a hard lump in her throat which threatened to shut off her air supply. What rotten luck. This must be a bad dream. Or a Candid Camera set-up. Or maybe she was hallucinating. What had been in that yummy mushroom quiche she’d eaten at lunch? Whatever the reason, Fen felt the best course of action was to hide behind the brocade drapes before she spotted her.
THE DATING GAME Page 3
