All Work and No Play (17 page)

Jane smiled at him, a little too bright to be true.

‘Well, you haven’t told me where we’re going, but I’m guessing that since we’re in the Lake District we might be visiting your mother. I’ll be happy to see her again. It’s been, what, fifteen years?’

The train stopped. Jane reached for the button to open the carriage door, but Jonny beat her to it again. They stepped out onto the platform. The air felt cooler, fresher than in London.

He looked at Jane. Her clothes were pure city: carefully pressed and tailored trousers and blouse, a light woollen jacket, shiny leather shoes with a little heel. The only reminder of the girl she’d been was her fine skin with the faint flush on her cheeks, her curly hair, her
china-doll eyes and lips. She couldn’t hide that. The rest was an image, her professional front, preserved even on a Saturday on holiday.

He thought he’d feel different once he was up here in the Lakes. He’d thought about Jay Richard as a persona he could slip on, walk around in for a while, and then slip off again. He’d thought once he got up here, the place that he always thought of as home even though he’d only really lived here for seven or eight years, he’d be back being Jonny Cole, somebody comfortable and cheerful and straightforward, who didn’t care about appearances or particularly what other people thought about him.

But he didn’t feel different. When he was Jay, he still had all the emotions and the attitude of Jonny. And now that he was Jonny, he was still thinking about appearances and what they said about a person.

For example, whether Jane’s nearly aggressive professionalism was just a front to hide her real self, or if it had, over the years, become her real self.

‘Jonny?’ Jane said, and he realised he’d been standing on the platform, staring at her, lost in his thoughts. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Yeah. I was wondering if masquerading as Jay Richard had given me anything worthwhile except a knowledge of how to use hair gel.’

She laughed, though not wholeheartedly, still acting
as awkward as she’d been all day. ‘It’s made you some money, at least.’

He nodded. ‘And given me an excuse to kiss you every now and then.’

She flushed, and looked away from him, down the platform. ‘Where are we going now?’

‘Lunch,’ he said decisively, and touched her arm to guide her down the platform. It was unnecessary, but he’d just sat across from her for three and a half hours without touching her and he was only human, after all.

‘Lunch, and the truth,’ he added. He’d waited a while for that, too.

Jane looked both startled and anxious, but she didn’t say anything, just walked with him through the station to where he’d parked his car when Thom had come to get him on Tuesday morning. He loaded their bags into the boot and drove them into Penrith proper, to one of the cafés in the town centre that catered to both tourist and local trade. It wasn’t high season yet, so aside from two or three full tables they had the place largely to themselves.

‘What do you mean, the truth?’ Jane asked, once they were settled at a table, menus in front of them.

She looked uncomfortable enough that he instinctively smiled at her. ‘Order lunch first,’ he said, noticing a waitress
was approaching. ‘You might be able to live on work and air, but I need food.’

They ordered their lunch and Jane folded her hands on the table. Jonny remembered the first time they’d sat across the table with each other. She’d twisted a strand of her hair around her finger, each small turn of her finger another lure to his heart.

‘The truth is,’ he said, ‘I’ve lured you up here under false pretences.’

‘I’m still not quite sure what your pretences were in the first place.’

‘I don’t just want to be your friend.’

Jane’s fingers clenched on each other, and she bit her lip. ‘Jonny, we’ve already talked about—’

‘No, we haven’t,’ he interrupted. ‘You’ve told me that you don’t want to have a relationship with me because you don’t want to lose me as a friend. I haven’t told you what I want, and how I feel about it.’

‘Okay,’ she said, and he could tell she was steeling herself for something. ‘What do you want, and how do you feel about it?’

‘I want you,’ he said.

She instantly flushed, from her delicate collar-bone to the roots of her hair, and it was all Jonny could do not to reach out and put his hand on her skin to feel the heat.

‘From the minute I saw you I wanted to touch you. I’m
so attracted to you that I described to you how I wanted to make love with you. And that fantasy wasn’t an all-purpose fantasy. It was about
you
, Jane. The reason I could tell it to you was because I haven’t felt quite this way about anybody else.’

‘Jonny, I don’t think it’s a good idea—’

‘No, I know you don’t. I also happen to know that you’re attracted to me, too. Let’s face it, Jane, when we had sex it was more than just exciting and good. It was amazing. Absolutely mind-blowing. For both of us. And both of us would like to do it again. You can deny it if you want, but I held you and danced with you and kissed you last night and you wanted me as badly as I wanted you.’

She didn’t appear to be able to answer. Her cheeks were even pinker than before.

‘When I walked away from you at the door it was one of the most bloody difficult things I’ve ever done. It actually hurt. Not just because of how turned on I was—which made it distinctly uncomfortable to walk up and down those stairs, let me tell you—but because I knew you were feeling exactly the same way. I also knew that leaving you at your doorstep was a mean, petty little bit of revenge on you for cutting off our sexual relationship before it even began properly. And that knowledge doesn’t make me feel great about myself.’

‘So you’ve—’ She cleared her throat, and started again. ‘So the real reason why you’ve taken me up here for a weekend away with you is so that we can have sex with each other again?’

Wouldn’t he love that? Drive her to Keswick, carry her up the stairs to his flat, into his bedroom, and lose himself in Jane for the entire weekend.

And her eyes were wide and sexy, her breath was coming quickly. He could do it. A little convincing, a kiss like the ones they’d shared on the dance floor. Whispering in her ear what he’d like to do with her.

The attraction between them was enough that Jane would forget all her scruples. She’d been willing to last night.

‘No,’ he said, and a part of him, the part that was ruled purely by libido, was kicking himself.

‘Oh,’ she replied. A definite hint of disappointment in her voice.

‘Because I don’t just want sex with you,’ he continued, before his kicking libido and Jane’s disappointment made him forget all about logic, reason, and self-preservation.

‘I want a relationship. I want us to date and to get to know each other and to care about each other and trust each other. I want something real between us. That’s what I was hoping was going to happen when you told me you’d split up with Gary, and you wanted to go out on
a date with me. That you and I would become something much more than friends. More even than lovers.’

Her face was a picture of astonishment, so he kept talking, because he didn’t feel like being let down.

‘But what happened afterwards made that impossible. I’d like a relationship with you, Jane, maybe something serious. But any relationship I have has to be based one hundred per cent on trust and truthfulness. What we’ve got instead is a pact to deceive people. And for whatever reason, you’re doing your best to shut me out of your feelings. So we can’t have a relationship. We can’t have sex, because that will just make me want much more. All I can hope for is that we can salvage our friendship.’

Jane opened her mouth to say something, but at that moment their lunch arrived. From the look on her face, Jonny figured she wasn’t any hungrier than he was, but she picked up her fork and played with a bit of salad anyway.

‘I didn’t know you felt that way,’ she said at last. ‘Not that strongly.’

‘Now you do.’ He made himself take a bite of his beef and ale pie, because, although he’d just exposed his heart to her, he didn’t particularly want to dwell on it or elaborate on it. His libido was kicking him enough without his emotions joining in, too. He’d rather have lunch.

Jane followed suit. The noise of cutlery on crockery seemed less awkward than silence.

He wasn’t watching her, but he knew every single bite she took, every light touch of her gaze on his face. After several minutes she put her fork down.

‘I do want to be friends with you, Jonny. Real friends.’

As that was the best he was going to get, he made himself smile at her.

‘Good. Because that’s the other reason I brought you up here. I could use a friend for what I’m going to do next.’

‘What’s that?’

‘You were right about my mother. My father wasn’t honest with her, but I have to be. She needs to know about her financial situation and what Dad was up to.’

‘It’s not going to be easy to tell her,’ Jane said softly.

‘No. I’m not looking forward to it. It would be good to have you around.’

Jane nodded. ‘I’ll help out however I can.’

‘Being there will be enough. You’re the only other person who knows the truth.’

‘When do you want to tell her?’

‘Probably the sooner the better. We can go straight to Ullswater to the hotel.’

‘That’s fine.’ Her tone was decisive, almost businesslike, but it was also kind and warm.

This time, the smile they shared wasn’t forced, and when Jonny went back to his lunch, he realised it tasted good.

Parkhouse Bay Hotel nestled between trees, set back from the narrow road by a carefully tended garden. The house was constructed of slivers of stacked grey slate. Tall chimneys and windows made it seem even larger.

Jonny turned off the ignition of his car and they sat together. Jonny was looking at the house; Jane was looking at Jonny. His face was thoughtful and sad.

‘When we first moved up here we had a little bed and breakfast across the lake,’ he said. ‘There were only three guest bedrooms and my parents and I squeezed into two rooms total. They risked everything to come up here; my father packed in his job and they took out loans and they worked every hour they could because my mother had always dreamed of running a hotel in the Lakes. When she saw this hotel, she fell in love with it. It was years before it came on the market, but when it did, they were ready.’

He paused, and Jane wondered if she should say something. She wanted to ease his sadness, but she didn’t know how.

‘I always thought about it as the castle my father built for my mother,’ he said. He shot her a quick glance, and
she was glad she hadn’t said anything after all, just let him have space with his own thoughts. ‘He was always so protective of her. Every day when I looked at them I could see how happy they were together. He was my model for everything.’

Her hand lifted to take his, but then she stopped. She wasn’t sure if that was what she should do. ‘You really had no idea he wasn’t what he seemed?’

‘None. I wanted to work hard and find a woman to love as much as he loved my mother. I wanted a relationship just like theirs.’

He kept on looking at the house, but Jane could feel how his words were directed at her.

Over lunch, he’d said that he wanted a real relationship with her. Something serious. And this was what he’d meant. Love, protectiveness, marriage, building castles.

Her whole body warmed; the air in the car seemed suddenly stifling. What she felt could be embarrassment, could be pleasure, could be fear. She had an overwhelming urge to roll down the window and gulp air.

‘But it was all a lie,’ he continued, quietly. ‘It’s so strange. I can’t understand it.’

‘I understand it,’ Jane said, and she was surprised both by what she’d said and by how Jonny’s head snapped around to her, pinning her with his blue eyes.

‘I mean, I don’t understand it, quite. But I know what
it’s like. You don’t set out for it to be that way. It just grows, without you even noticing, and then one day you realise you don’t even know who the other person is. Or who you are.’

She’d been talking about her and Gary, but as soon as she said the last few words she realised she was talking about her and Jonny, too.

It was exactly what he’d said: what was between them wasn’t honest.

It was her fault. Gary had been the cheating one, but maybe it had been her fault with him, too. She didn’t know how to have a relationship; she’d failed at her engagement and now she was failing with Jonny. It was painful for him to be here, and she was making it even worse for him.

She didn’t just want to open the window; she wanted to bolt out of the car and run all the way back to London.

Then Jonny suddenly smiled at her. His sunny smile, digging those lines in his cheeks, making his eyes bright.

‘I’m glad you’re here with me,’ he said to her.

Jane smiled back, but unaccountably she also felt her eyes pricking.

‘Me too,’ she said. This time she did take his hand, and squeezed it.

She didn’t know how to do a relationship—not the kind of relationship he wanted, something built on trust
and truth, something that could create love and castles. But she was going to do her damnedest to be his friend.

Even though she wasn’t sure she knew how to do that, either.

CHAPTER TWELVE

J
ONNY
spread the last of the papers on the table between him and his mother and, for the first time, really looked across at her.

There was a frown on her forehead, deepening a line between her blue eyes. But her hands were steady, and her lips, though pressed together, were firm.

‘Is that all of it?’ she asked.

‘That’s all.’ And plenty, he would have thought. The mortgages, the loans, thousands of pounds and no indication of where it should come from.

She nodded. She seemed to be very calm, and that disturbed Jonny more than any crying or shouting would have done. When he was a child, his mother had cried every now and then. A film on television, a hurt animal in the garden, the soap opera on the radio—those things
had made her cry and lean into his father’s arms for comfort. The tears about trivialities came easily and went easily, too, dissolving into laughter, their only purpose the impetus for an exchange of love.