Escape for the Summer (41 page)

“So you’ve only been spending time with me because I’m financially viable?” she said, and her voice wobbled. Was she going to cry? Over a
man?
Angel hadn’t even been this upset when her LV bag was outed as a fake. What was going on?

“Christ, no!” Laurence strode across the room and swept Angel into his arms. She held herself rigid for a moment but as his grasp tightened, pulling her against his chest, her senses were overwhelmed by his delicious scent and the joy of being so close to his warm skin.

Laurence was pressing kisses into the crown of her head. “I feel like such a shit,” he murmured into her hair.

Angel said nothing. She’d decided to let him suffer for a bit. Hadn’t the nuns at school said something about suffering being good for the soul? Angel had certainly suffered when they’d said her skirts were too short and had made her lower the hems. But still. The principle was surely the same.

“I noticed you straight away,” Laurence said. “Who wouldn’t? And, I’ll admit, the fact that you’re wealthy got my attention too, but if I’m honest that was only an added bonus. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. When I bumped into you in the bank that day I could hardly believe my luck.” He stepped back and tilted her chin up with his forefinger so that those storm-grey eyes could stare into hers. “Angel, I don’t know what I was expecting to happen, but it wasn’t this. I never thought I’d feel this way about anyone.” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. “Angel, I’ve fallen head over heels in love with you. That’s why I couldn’t let things go any further between us without telling you the truth.”

Angel’s eyes were blue circles of surprise. “You’re in love with me?”

Laurence nodded. His forefinger traced the curve of her cheek, the slight touch enough to make her knees wobble and her pulse break into a canter.

“Totally and utterly.”

“Me?” Angel said slowly. “Or my money?”

He groaned. “You, Angel! Funny, clever, gorgeous you! I couldn’t care less about your money.”

That was just as well, thought Angel – although she had better make certain.

“So if I was penniless, just a girl on holiday in Rock who was renting a tatty caravan and working as a beautician for a wealthy Russian woman, and pretending to look rich herself, you’d still be head over heels in love with me?”

“Of course I would!” declared Laurence and then, as Angel started to laugh, he registered the full impact of her words. His mouth fell open. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

But Angel couldn’t reply: she was too busy laughing and crying all at the same time. What a muddle! And what a time to realise that in spite of all her very best intentions and stern pep talks to herself she was in love with Laurence too!

“Oh. My. God.” Laurence breathed. “We’re as bad as each other!”

Half sobbing, half laughing, Angel nodded her agreement.

“But Laurence,” she said, when she finally managed to recover enough breath to speak. “I feel exactly the same way about you! In spite of everything, it’s you I’m crazy about. I couldn’t care less about Kenniston or the title, or even the money. Only you.”

Laurence’s face was still.

“Do you really mean that?”

All the Aston Martins and designer clothes and handbags dissolved like a dream, but Angel found she no longer cared at all. All that mattered to her now was being close to Laurence. It was very strange and, Angel realised to her surprise, rather nice.

“With all my heart,” she said.

Laurence’s face, so taut with worry only seconds before, split into a huge smile. Now those eyes weren’t battleship grey at all but sparkling like a frosty morning. Exhaling slowly, he raised them towards the ceiling, where the dimpled cherubs and sex-crazed inhabitants of Mount Olympus looked down indulgently.

“I think somebody up in the heavens is having a bit of a laugh right now,” he said wryly, his arms tightening their hold.

Angel nodded. What were the odds that they had both been playing the same game and had both inadvertently fallen for somebody penniless? Fate certainly had a sense of humour.

But moments later humour was no longer the emotion on Angel’s mind – because Laurence was kissing her, a kiss of such joy and passion and tenderness that she thought she would dissolve. Then he’d picked her up (refusing carbs was worth it!) and carried her up the steps to the ancient bed, where they’d spent the rest of the night making the gods and goddesses on the ceiling blush.

Recalling it now, and in the cold light of day that was seeping through the moth-eaten curtains, Angel’s cheeks turned quite pink. Money no longer seemed half as important, she decided as she snuggled into Laurence. She’d found treasure of a very different kind. God, she hoped this hadn’t just been some kind of amazing dream!

To make sure, she peeled open her eyes, the lashes still claggy with last night’s mascara, and sure enough there was Laurence out cold, with a dusting of dark stubble across his jaw and an expression of utter contentment on his chiselled features. Angel stared at him for a moment and her heart did the most ridiculous twisty-turny thing before deciding to dive into her belly. Oh God! But he was gorgeous. Even fast asleep and with his treacle-coloured hair all tousled and while snoring gently, he turned her bones to jelly. Angel didn’t think she’d ever wanted somebody so badly in her entire life. Her fingers longed to reach out and touch him, trace the sharp planes of his face and linger over the smiling curve of his mouth, but she managed to resist.

Angel was not a morning person at the best of times. Unless she had her complete Clarins kit and a good dollop of Crème de la Mer before bedtime she was loath to let anyone see her first thing, especially anyone she might have done
that
with. In the past she had been known to slip out of bed, leaving her partner sleeping and oblivious, to tiptoe to the bathroom and apply the full works – mascara, false eyelashes, foundation, lip gloss – before sliding back into bed. Yet somehow with Laurence this didn’t seem to matter in the slightest. He’d already seen her stripped of all her designer gear and the borrowed patina of wealth, and he still liked her. Loved, her even. Angel realised that the concept of love no longer scared her. Laurence too had laid himself bare, both literally and metaphorically, and trusted her enough to tell her the truth about Kenniston. That had taken courage.

Kenniston. Now that was a problem. As she glanced around the room, even the gloom of closed curtains couldn’t disguise the mould that was blooming on the ceiling or the peeling paintwork. It would be fitness suites in the chapel in no time if something wasn’t done soon. Even Sarah Beeny would struggle to put this one right…

And there it was! A silver fish of an idea flickering through her mind again, and this time Angel wasn’t going to let it slip away. Not when it was an idea this simple, this obvious and this bloody brilliant.

Oh my God! Oh course! The solution to Laurence’s problems was so easy it was untrue! It had been right in from of them all the time…

When Angel got an idea into her head there was never any time to waste – and this idea needed action. Reaching over, she shook Laurence’s shoulder.

“Laurence! Wake up!” Angel said. “I think I know how we can save Kenniston!”

Chapter 37

Andi was having a very surreal day. Not only had she, for reasons she wasn’t quite ready to admit, agreed to go on a date with Travis Chumley, but also when she arrived back at the caravan Callum South was baking bread with Gemma.

“Hi, Andi,” said Gemma, as though it was the most normal thing in the world to find a Premier League footballer in the caravan.

“Hi, Andi,” echoed Cal.

“We’re baking,” added Gemma, just in case this wasn’t evident from the yeasty smell and globs of dough that spattered the tiny kitchen. It looked as though Tesco’s bread aisle had exploded.

Baking? For a split second Andi almost asked what on earth was going on, but when she saw the way that Gemma was looking at Cal, as though she could gobble him up and never mind the buns, it all fell into place.

Oh dear; she really hoped Gemma knew what she was getting into. Back in the days of Dukes Rangers, Callum South’s womanising had been notorious. Had he changed? Andi hoped so; physically Gemma might look like a robust girl, but her heart was as tough as cotton candy.

“Cal’s been demonstrating his bread-making skills,” Gemma told her proudly.

Cal, squashed into the galley kitchen and up to his elbows kneading bread, pulled a face. “More like bread therapy.”

“Bad day. We got caught in McDonald’s,” Gemma explained. “If we had any signal I’d show you the pictures on my phone. It’s gone viral; Cal’s manager is on the warpath and a load of paps are camped outside the house, so we’re in hiding till it dies down.”

“It’s a nightmare, so it is,” sighed Cal. His sleepy brown eyes were troubled. “Poor Gemma’s been sacked by her agent.”

“Oh Gemma, I’m so sorry!” Andi knew just how desperate Gemma had been to lose weight and please Chloe in order to jump-start her acting career. It had been the driving force of her move to Rock.

But Gemma didn’t look very upset. “I actually feel like I’ve been set free. If Chloe doesn’t want me as I am, then sod her. I’m loving doing the Shakespeare and there’s more to life than pleasing people.”

“Good for you,” said Andi. If only she herself had taken that tack a few months ago, then Tom and Hart Frozer would have been very surprised.

“I’m in big trouble for breaking my diet,” sighed Cal. Leaving the bread to prove, he looked out of the window. “Mike’s going to crucify me. I’ll probably get the bollocking of me life. He makes Stalin look like a pussy.”

“So while all this is going on you’re baking bread?” Sometimes Andi wondered if Gemma lived in another universe altogether. Still, it seemed that Cal was from the same planet as Gemma. It was a match made in calorie heaven.

“I love making bread,” Cal said happily. “It probably sounds mental but it’s a kind of relaxation for me.”

“Just like baking is for me,” Gemma added, and they smiled at each other, two kindred cooking spirits. Andi exhaled slowly; she hadn’t realised that she’d been holding her breath. Somehow she didn’t think she needed to worry about Gemma. Angel, on the other hand, was going to be responsible for her first grey hairs. It was evident from the lack of shoes/bags/drama that her sister still hadn’t come home. She hoped Angel was all right.

“Here, try some. It’s sun-dried tomato and Parmesan and it’s bloody gorgeous,” insisted Gemma, hacking through a sunshine-yellow loaf blushed with speckles of crimson. She whacked a slice onto a plate and smothered it with butter. Although the smell was wonderful – and so was the taste, judging by the butter smears and crumbs that coated Gemma’s bee-stung mouth – Andi didn’t have any appetite. Mel’s biscuits and lunch had been totally wasted; from the moment that Jax had strutted into the garden Andi had felt decidedly off colour.

It didn’t bode well for a dinner date with the heir to Chumley’s Chunks.

“I’ve just eaten,” she fibbed.

“All the more for us then,” said Cal cheerfully.

Talk about in denial, thought Andi despairingly as she left them exclaiming over a banana loaf. Cal’s career was in the balance and Gemma had lost her agent, and all they could do was bake? Mary Berry had a lot to answer for! Still, at least they seemed happy; she could even hear their laughter and chatter above the gush of her shower. Perhaps she was just a miserable cow?

As she towelled her hair dry and rummaged through her clothes to find something suitable to wear for her evening out, Andi gave herself a pep talk. It was a lovely sunny afternoon, her finances were turning a corner at long last, and she was about to be treated to dinner. Travis had suggested driving over to Newquay for a change of scene and Andi was looking forward to seeing Cornwall’s famous surf capital for the first time. Jonty often took his nephews there to catch some waves and said that it was a fun place to be, with a really cool surf vibe.

“It’s all Beetle vans, guys with long blond dreds and funky twenty-somethings necking Bud and making campfires,” Jonty had said, and his voice had been so animated that Andi had been able to picture the scene perfectly. “There’s a great chip shop too, just by the beach. We’ll have to go there, eat fish and chips out of the paper and watch the sun go down. Then we’ll hit some of the bars and clubs – pretend we’re students again!”

She’d laughed. “I was far too busy being a swat at uni to ever hit the clubs and bars!”

“So now’s your chance to let your hair down,” Jonty had told her. “The Boardmasters Festival is on too, so maybe we can watch some surfing? Or even have a go ourselves?”

It had sounded like a brilliant plan, but Jonty would be far too busy with Jax now to go surfing, thought Andi sadly. They had planned to go and find Andi a shorty wetsuit so that he could teach her, but things had changed so much in the last few days that she couldn’t imagine this happening now. Andi couldn’t see Jax being a fan of Fistral Beach in any case; she looked far more like a Sandy Lane Barbados kind of girl. And as for eating chips out of paper? Jax didn’t look like she’d seen a carb since the last millennium.

Andi sat down wearily on her bunk, narrowly escaping being skewered in the backside by a rogue spring. She felt ridiculously close to tears, which was crazy since there was absolutely nothing to be down about. Life was on the up. She hadn’t heard from Tom for months, she had enough work to keep up all her repayments and she had her first date for ages – even if it was only Travis Cockatiel, it was still a date – so she really should be feeling cheerful.

But the bad mood that had been shadowing her ever since Jax had dragged Jonty away didn’t show any signs of going anywhere. It was such a pain.

Andi sighed and wound a curl of red hair around her forefinger, deep in thought. Maybe accepting this date with Travis wasn’t her smartest move? She didn’t fancy him in the least and goodness only knew what they would talk about for an entire evening. Perhaps boat safety would be a good starting point.

What had she been thinking of, agreeing to go in the first place?