Ten minutes later, Gail poked her head around the change room door. “He’s looking for you,” she said. “And asked me to check in here.”
“Pretend I’ve gone,” said Fen.
“Are you sure?” Gail’s eyes widened. “He seems awfully keen.”
“Very sure.”
“Be it on your head, Fen.”
“I can cope with any fall-out,” she said with more bravado than confidence. “What’s the worst he could do? Bawl me out for leaving without saying goodbye? I’m a big girl, Gail. Everything will be fine.”
Chapter Six
Fen drowsily flaked out in front of the television watching a re-run of an old sit-com. The hour was late but she was too comfortable to switch off the TV and hobble to bed. Once James had disappeared from the gym, she’d spent a strenuous hour and a half going through her regime and now she was pooped. Absolutely.
Her mind wandered for the six millionth time away from the comedy show to wonder about James and Gail. How were they getting on? Was there a spark of attraction? She didn’t really want to think about them getting cozy together, but they probably would, wouldn’t they? They were both beautiful people, both single, it was almost a dead cert that this date could lead to other things.
Rats.
Of course, Gail was a trifle shorter than James’ usual slender but statuesque Gorgeous Gazelles, but she was a stunner in a robust, Nordic sort of way. She had been very popular among Fen’s male clients and there’d be no surprise if James became as captivated as the rest of them. She’d be more surprised if he wasn’t.
And Gail had said she was very, very interested in him. While she made Fen slog her way through various leg-strengthening exercises, she’d chatted on about much she was looking forward to their date, how great it would be getting to know him, how charming and handsome he was. Of course, she didn’t have to tell Fen all that. Fen was more than aware of James’ attractions, which made avoiding him all the more poignant.
James was special. No disputing that. And he was worming his way into Fen’s heart with a rapidity that did little for her peace of mind. It wasn’t fair. It was a dirty rotten conspiracy that Fen wasn’t in the position to do something about it.
She must have dozed off because it took her a moment to realize that her doorbell was ringing.
“Coming,” she called in a sleep-groggy voice and hobbled her way towards the door, supporting herself with various pieces of furniture. “Who is it?”
“It’s me.”
James? Uh-oh. Fen cracked the door open. “What’s wrong? Where’s Gail?”
“May I come in?”
Her gaze searched the hallway. “What have you done with her?”
“I’ll explain over a coffee.”
Omigod, if she let him in he’d see her limping. “No way. It’s late.”
“You’re still dressed.”
“Yes, but I was about to go to bed.” And he’d want to know why she was limping and she would have to come up with an explanation. Fast!
“Fen, please. I need to talk to you.”
He sounded so little boy lost that Fen’s resolve crumpled like a hot air balloon deprived of gas. And it was awfully tempting to spend some time with him. “Okay, but only a quick drink. I’m rather tired.”
He followed her into the small apartment. Fen grabbed the sideboard and then the back of the chair as she made her way towards her tiny kitchen, hoping he wouldn’t notice her awkward progress. But to her consternation he did.
“Are you all right?” His voice was laced with concern.
“Yes, I…er…overdid my workout in the gym today.”
“You weren’t exactly flat out when I saw you. In fact, I reckon you left early. Why? Because of me?”
He had a hurt air about him and Fen felt like a heel. “You? Rubbish. I had other commitments. But I did return later to do some more. I must have got too carried away.” If Fen hadn’t been holding on to the kitchen counter, she would have crossed her fingers. She hoped God wasn’t out with his lightning bolts to strike her down, but what could a girl say under the circumstances?
“I see.”
She hoped he didn’t. “Black or white coffee?”
“White, two sugars.”
James carried the tray through to the living room and set the hot drinks down on the low coffee table.
Fen settled herself on her old three-seater couch, hoping he’d take the armchair.
He didn’t but promptly sat right next to her.
Fen experienced a rash of tingles. He was too close. “You’ll probably find the chair more comfortable than this old thing.”
“I’m fine here.” He handed her a coffee.
Fen cradled it between both hands and blew on the steamy surface. “So didn’t things work out with Gail?” she asked with what she hoped was casual nonchalance.
“We had a great time.”
“Oh.” How great, she wanted to know but wasn’t game to ask. Instead, she said, “I’m glad.” She wondered if she sounded sincere enough.
“But…”
“There’s a but?” Her spirits lifted.
“Yes. Definitely a but. I won’t be seeing her again. There was a problem, you see.”
“A problem with Gail? I don’t believe you. Gail is one of my most popular girls on file. I never have problems finding her a date and she gets a lot of repeat dates too. So what’s the deal?”
James smiled. “To put it simply, she’s not you, Fen.”
Fen had chosen that moment to take a sip of coffee. The scalding liquid went down much too fast in response to his surprising admission. She spluttered like a strangled chicken.
James whipped the mug out of her hands and placed it back on the tray. He then rubbed her back to help ease the choking.
It didn’t help. Having his hand rubbing up and down her spine was causing greater difficulties. She tried to wave him away.
“Would you like a glass of water?”
“No, thanks,” she gasped. “I’ll be fine in a moment.” Fen wiped the tears from her eyes and then gave James a frustrated look. He had no right to come out with little gems like that, especially when she’d just taken a mouthful of coffee. And he shouldn’t touch her! He made her all shivery and hot, inside and out. “So what are you doing here?”
“I wanted to see you.”
His words were bittersweet and made her want to weep. “James, I’ve told you before,” she said, her voice wobbling. “I am not available for dating.”
“And I’m not available for your agency dating.”
“Okay.” But it wasn’t okay. There was a sharp pain in her heart. A missing warmth in her belly. A sense of loss pounding in her head. If James stayed on her books there would be an excuse to spar with him. Without that common ground, there was no reason to call him, no chance to talk to him, meet with him. “Which means we won’t be seeing each other,” she said, a slight catch in her voice betraying her disappointment.
His brows rose a fraction. “I don’t think it changes anything between us, sweetheart.” He leaned towards her, reaching for her hand, holding it in the secure strength of his. “Except we’ll have more time together without the constraints of your strict agency rules.” His lips twitched into a teasing smile.
“You don’t understand,” she said, imploring him to anyway. She tugged away her hand, but he recaptured it easily.
His smile faded. “No, you don’t understand, Fenella Grant. You’re stuck with me in your life. Get used to it.” Strong and firm, his tone brooked no argument.
“Oh.” Warmth flooded through her, in spite of her good intentions to keep him at a distance. How could she not feel thrilled by his words? But however much James made her heart flutter, she had to be strong for the both of them. Because a relationship couldn’t work between them. Ever. But Fen didn’t know what she could say without sounding rude.
James, still holding her hand, said, “You have a nice place.”
“Thank
you.” She knew he was giving her time to adjust to the shift in their relationship. Not that it would make any difference.
He stood and prowled around her airy living room.
She looked at it as he might be seeing the space. She’d chosen the ground floor flat because of the big front room. In her dancing days, she had used the space to exercise and rehearse dance routines. There was still a barre attached to one wall for her warm-up routines which had included exercises such as pliés and relevés. She still used the room for exercise, but nothing as graceful or rewarding as ballet. Just the basics to get her to walk again unaided.
“You like ballet.” The three words were a statement, not a question.
Fen squirmed further down into the soft sofa cushions and hid her disquiet by burying her nose in her mug. “Yes,” she said awkwardly. She couldn’t deny it. Her walls were covered with pictures of the various roles she had undertaken as well as photos of her favorite dancers. Her collection of advertising show posters over the years were scattered in the mix. She prayed he wouldn’t look too closely at her personal photographs.
But he was contrary. She knew that and wasn’t overly surprised when the very first picture James picked up was a black-and-white, framed photograph taken when she was sixteen. The picture was one of her favorites where she’d struck the classic ballerina pose, her head slightly inclined, her hands crossed gracefully across her breasts. With her hair swept into a tight bun, her face was revealed in its glory. Accented by stage make-up, her lips were full of hidden promise and her eyes were deep, dark mysterious pools of emotion. The photo was taken just before her first major professional role when she’d danced Swan Lake at the Theatre Royal in Brighton.
James studied the silver-framed picture for several minutes. “She’s beautiful,” he said. Then he frowned, his eyes thoughtful. “She looks familiar but I can’t quite place her. Is she very famous?”
Fen’s throat constricted, her chest squeezing as though tight steel bands of fire were clamping around her fragile body. Blood thrummed in her head and she was dangerously close to being sick.
“Not anymore,” she said, forcing her vocal cords to work even though her throat was closing with unshed tears.
“And who is this? The same dancer?”
The photo was taken two years later when she was dancing the part of Giselle in Paris. “Yes, the same girl.”
“She’s gorgeous. Do you know her personally? Is that why you’re such a fan?”
“Yes.” She dug her nails into her hand to stop herself from shouting at him. But then he didn’t know how much he was hurting her.
“You should sign her up for your agency. She’d be the most popular babe on the block.”
Definite torture. She had to make him stop. “She’s not interested,” she forced out.
“Shame. Now even I’d be tempted to maintain my membership if there was the chance of dating her.” He laughed and threw Fen a saucy glance, inviting her to join in the joke.
Fen could feel her heart breaking. He fancied her old, pre-accident self. How would he react if he knew the girl in the photo was Fen? She had been right to keep her accident secret. She couldn’t bear to suffer his pity, see the sympathy in his eyes and the cooling of his attraction for her.
“You wouldn’t be her type,” she said with repressive bluntness and then added, “There are some chocolate biscuits in the cupboard if you’re hungry.”
“No, thanks. I just had dinner with Gail, remember?”
“As if I could forget,” she muttered to herself. “Where did you go?” Time she steered him on to another, safer subject.
The ruse worked. He told her about the small bistro where they’d eaten. It led to a discussion of Fen and James’ favorite restaurants. Most of James’ were of places way above Fen’s touch. To her, it emphasized how different they were, how far apart their worlds. It’d been sheer fluke their paths had ever crossed in the first instance and it wouldn’t be long, in her opinion, that those paths would veer away again. They would then continue on their separate life journeys.
“We must go out for dinner one night,” said James with far too much enthusiasm for Fen’s comfort. “And I’ll treat you to my most favorite restaurant.”
“After Christmas.” That would give Fen more time to cook up a good excuse not to go.
“Why not sooner?”
“It’s all a bit hectic what with the holiday and stuff,” she said.
“Shame. There must be a way I can persuade you.”
“No.” It was time to change the subject again and she’d been more than intrigued with what had caused the crookedness of his nose. It gave him such a disreputable air amid all his suave, man-about-town-ness. Now seemed the perfect time to ask him. “Tell me, how did you break your nose?”
“My nose?” James gave it a cursory rub. “Ah. Back in my youth I was a gung-ho horse rider. I entered cross-country events and one day came a cropper, landing smack on my face.”
Fen shuddered. She could sympathize as her own face had taken the brunt of her fall in the hit-and-run accident.
“I smashed up my face, broke my nose and collar bone, lost a couple of teeth and busted my jaw,” James catalogued with cool matter-of-factness.
“Ouch. That would have hurt.” Fen winced, feeling his bygone pain with an acuteness born of experience.
“My pride more than anything. I was trying too hard to impress a girl.” He laughed and shook his head in self-deprecation.
“How did she react to your accident?” Fen asked, more than a little curious.
“Well,” James twisted his mouth. “She did come and see me in hospital but I wasn’t looking very pretty. She couldn’t handle my cut and swollen face. There were no kiss-it-betters or comforting hugs. Instead she was derogatory about my horsemanship. I think she thought I was a loser.” He shrugged. “After that one perfunctory visit, I didn’t hear from her again.”
“She wasn’t worth it then,” Fen stated, appalled at the girl’s tactlessness and hurting for the bruised heart of an impressionable youth.
“True. It was a good lesson to learn. Have you ever ridden, Fen?”
“No.”
“But your sister rides. She goes hacking with Annabelle every week. I thought all girls in the country rode.”
“A lot do. But I don’t. Horseback riding involves different muscles.” It was a throwaway comment and one she immediately regretted.
“I beg your pardon?”
Fen wished she’d swallowed her tongue. That was the trouble relaxing around James. Now she’d have to explain. “I was dancing mad. If I’d ridden horses I would have developed different muscles which wouldn’t have helped my dancing.”
“Do you still dance?” His gaze scanned the room again.
“No.”
Her flat tone made James glance back, a slight frown between his brows. “Why?”
“One of those things,” she hedged and pretended to smother a yawn.
“You’re tired. I best let you go to bed.”
Fen winced as she tried to stand.
“Are you okay?”
“Stiff muscles, that’s all. Nothing a good hot soak in a Radox bath won’t cure.” She wished it could be that simple, that her legs could be healed so easily rather than enduring hour upon hour of grueling physiotherapy.
“Don’t come to the door. Save those legs.” James leaned over and cupped her face in his hands. He took one long look at her and then kissed her softly on the lips.
Fen’s stomach did a spontaneous meltdown and turned to mush. Her blood fizzed like shaken lemonade on a hot day. If such a small kiss could produce such results, what would a full blown one do to her system? She’d probably implode!
“Night, Fen,” he said with warm gentleness.
“Night.” To her disgust her voice came out as a whisper.
She heard the front door shut and sat there for a good five minutes to savor that sweetest of kisses and to regret things couldn’t
develop further. How could she keep on seeing him?
But how could she not?
She knew she was falling in love and there wasn’t anything she could do about it.
Damn her lame legs. Damn the accident. And damn James McAllister for making her feel again.
She struggled to the bathroom and turned on the shower. As she waited for the water to heat up, she stared with brutal frankness at herself in the mirror.
Where was the girl of the photographs? She was barely visible. When the car had knocked her over, Fen had fallen face first on to the pavement. She had smashed her cheekbones and broken her jaw. The surgeons had had to reconstruct her face. The elfin oval of yesteryear was now a flatter version. The high cheekbones less prominent, the eyes slightly wider and more almond-shaped than before, the jaw more rounded. Her spiky short hair made a big difference too. Once it grew again, perhaps her features would be softened. She could at least try.
She wasn’t ugly, now that the swelling and scarring had faded, but she wasn’t the pert beauty staring out of the photographs.
As she stared, the steam from the hot water began to fog up the glass. Best thing too. There was no point in crying over what couldn’t be.
Chapter Seven
“You are coming to my Christmas bash, aren’t you, Fen?” Lucinda chirped down the phone line. “It’s gonna be bigger and better than usual. I’ve invited everyone who’s anyone.”
Fen winced. A huge, noisy party. Oh no. Lucinda’s annual, end-of-year affair for all those involved in her chain of travel agencies were a legend that could only be endured if one felt on top of things. She didn’t. “I might give it a miss this year.” There was no ‘might’ about it. Fen had no intention of going. She clutched the receiver hard, hoping she’d be strong enough to resist Lucinda’s arguments.
“But you missed last year’s party, too.” Lucinda grumbled.
“I couldn’t help it! I was stuck in a hospital bed with my legs in traction.”
“Well, you’re not this time so there’s no excuse. Come on, Fen, it’ll be fun. There’s going to be music and food and plenty of grog. You can’t not come.”
THE DATING GAME Page 7
