Falling for You (16 page)

Nuala was lying on the sofa devouring the book that was about to change her life when the knock came on the living room door. As guiltily as a teenager caught with a copy of
Playboy
, she shoveled the paperback behind a green velvet cushion and called out, “Who's that?”

“Only me.” Pushing the door open, Kate Taylor-Trent said, “Sorry, I didn't know if you were asleep. Dexter needs to send paperwork off to the accountants. He says the folder should be in the filing cabinet in his office, and you'll know where to find it.”

“I'll get it.” Levering herself awkwardly up off the sofa with her good arm, Nuala watched as the book slithered out from under the cushion and landed with a plop on the floor. Just as well it wasn't
Playboy
.

By the time she returned from the office with the relevant folder, Kate had picked up the book and was leafing through the pages.

Flushing, Nuala said defensively, “I know, I'm pathetic.”

“At least you're doing something about it. These things are huge business in the States. My roommate had hundreds. I've never read one,” said Kate.

“It was you who made me buy it,” Nuala confessed, blushing more deeply than ever but feeling emboldened.

“Me?”

“That title:
Don't Be a Doormat
. I mean, look at the way Dexter treats me. I've gotten so used to it, I just put up with it, but you don't let him get away with anything. And you're absolutely right, which is why I'm going to
change
.” Grabbing the book back from Kate, Nuala found the relevant chapter headings and jabbed at them eagerly with her index finger. “See? ‘Lay Down the Law!' ‘You're a Person Too!' ‘Startle Him to His Senses!' It's all here in black-and-white. I can't
believe
I've been such a wimp. From now on, I'm going to give as good as I get and really stand up to Dexter.” Proudly, she straightened her spine and concluded, “I'm going to be just like you!”

Kate looked impressed. At that moment Dexter shouted up the stairs, “Hasn't the silly bat found it yet? What is she,
blin
d
?”

Hurriedly Nuala handed over the folder bulging with tax receipts.

“Look, I'm only up to chapter seven. Anyway, I can't do it yet. Not in front of other people.”

Kate raised an eyebrow. “When then?”

When indeed?

“Later,” said Nuala, feeling determined and panicky. “I promise.”

* * *

Don't Be a Doormat
was hidden inside a Marks & Spencer bag and stuffed out of sight at the back of the wardrobe, but Nuala could still hear it whispering to her as she and Dexter lounged on the sofa together watching TV. She'd finished the rest of the book earlier this afternoon and every word of it had made absolute, earth-shattering sense. It was like picking up the Bible and suddenly becoming a born-again Christian, without having to wear unflattering headbands and flat sandals. And it wasn't as if she had anything to lose, Nuala reminded herself. They would be redefining their relationship, that was all. Nothing but good could come of it. How did that song go? Oh yes: “thiiiiiiiings can only get betteeeeer…”

Hell. Put like that, what on earth was she waiting for?

“Do you mind?” complained Dexter, turning up the TV.

“Hmm?”

“That bloody awful noise. You're singing under your breath. Stop it.”

Thiiiiiiiings can only get betteeeeer…

“I like singing,” said Nuala.

“Well, that's fine. I'm glad. I just don't like having to listen to it,” Dexter snorted. “You sound like a cat being neutered.”

Don't Let Him Diss You, Nuala recalled being instructed by one of the chapter headings in the book. You Deserve Respect.
And
I
do
, Nuala thought indignantly,
because
I'm a Human Being Too, and if I want to sing, I jolly well can…

Exasperated, Dexter said, “You're doing it again.”

“So?”

“It's horrible.”

“You always have to criticize me, don't you?” Bravely, Nuala turned to face him. “Every single thing about me is wrong, according to you.”

Dexter shrugged and yawned. “I wouldn't say
every
single thing.”

“Yes, you would! OK, how about those trousers?” Pointing accusingly at the TV screen, where Kylie Minogue was currently twirling and pouting along to her latest single, Nuala demanded, “What would you say if I bought a pair like that?”

Kylie's trousers were primrose yellow, shimmery, and skintight. Her perfect little bottom was now wiggling fetchingly this way and that in time with the music.

“Are you serious?” Dexter asked in amazement. “With your thighs? You'd look bloody awful.”

“You see? That's
exactly
what I mean.” Nuala's voice rose an octave. “You have no respect for me. You criticize me all the time and I've had enough. I'm not going to put up with it anymore.”

“OK,” said Dexter.

“And you can stop watching that!” Realizing that his attention had been drawn back to Kylie's pert, gyrating bottom, Nuala snatched the remote control away from him and switched off the TV. “This is important! We're having a discussion here and the least you can do is listen!”

Actually, the authors of the book advised that all discussions be carried out in a calm and civilized manner, but this was easier said than done.

“
We
aren't having a discussion,” Dexter pointed out. “You're just having a rant. All
I'm
trying to do is watch the TV in peace.”

“You treat me like dirt,” Nuala exploded. “Like a piece of old rubbish! And I'm not putting up with it anymore.”

“You've said that already.”

Empowerment
, thought Nuala.
Self-respect.
Don't be a doormat.

“I'm serious,” she insisted. “I mean it. You have to stop belittling me, criticizing me, making me feel small.”

“Or you'll do what?” Dexter was sounding supremely disinterested.

Right. Shock Him to His Senses.

“Or it's all over between us,” said Nuala, her heart beginning to clatter. “Finished.”

With Kylie no longer doing her twirly thing on TV, silence filled the room. Finally, nodding slowly, Dexter said, “OK. If that's what you want.”

What? What was
that
supposed to mean? Nuala's eyes widened in panic. Surely she'd misunderstood.

Tentatively she said, “So…you'll stop doing it?”

Dexter gave her a measured look. “Come on, it's not working, is it? You're absolutely right. Ending it now would be the best thing all around.”

“B-but…you can't mean that!” Feeling as though she was sinking into a hole of her own making, Nuala croaked desperately, “I only said it to give you a scare.”

“No you didn't.”

“I did! I don't want us to split up,” Nuala wailed.

“You say that, but subconsciously you do,” said Dexter, “and you're right. I mean, look at us. We're hardly love's young dream, are we? You couldn't call us
happy
. One of the old blokes in the bar the other night asked me if I'd blacked your eye. Can you imagine that? He actually thought
I'd
thumped you and chucked you down the stairs.”

Numbly, Nuala said, “So did Maddy.”

“Well then, there you go. If that's what people think I do to you, there has to be something seriously wrong.”

Oh God, panic attack.
This wasn't supposed to be happening. Beginning to hyperventilate—and jettisoning the first and most important rule of
Don't Be A Doormat
—Nuala whimpered, “But I love you!”

“No.” Shaking his head, Dexter hauled himself to his feet. “You don't. You're just scared of being on your own.”

“Don't do this to me,” begged Nuala, scarcely able to take in what she was hearing. “I didn't mean to say it. I was only trying to be more like Kate.”

“Exactly. You can't try to be more like somebody else”—Dexter's tone was almost sympathetic now—“because it never works. You're
you
, Nuala. You shouldn't have to change. We aren't right for each other, that's all. And deep down, you know it as well as I do.”

“Where are you going?” Nuala whispered as he headed for the door.

“I've got a pub to open up.”

A sensation like cold cement trickling into her stomach caused Nuala to grip the side of the sofa. Fearfully she said, “And where…where am I going?”

Pausing in the doorway, Dexter ran his fingers through his receding hair.

“That's up to you. I'm not a monster, Nuala. I'm not about to kick you out into the street. I'll sleep on the sofa until you find somewhere else to stay.”

Oh God, this was unbearable. Already he was being far nicer to her than he'd been in months. Maybe if she hung on for a while, he might—

“I'm not going to change my mind,” said Dexter, who had always possessed the uncanny ability to know what was going on inside her head.

In desperation Nuala blurted, “But you don't know that for sure! You might realize you've made a horrible mistake.”

“I won't, because I haven't.” Calmly, Dexter checked his watch. “Nuala, I'm sorry, but I have to open the pub. Trust me, you'll be fine. In fact, give it a few weeks and you'll thank me for this.”

Which
just
goes
to
show
how
stupid
you
are
, Nuala thought hysterically, tears filling her eyes as Dexter made his way downstairs.
Because
all
I
want
to
do
is
die
.

“OK, OK, this isn't going to help.” Jake was seriously beginning to regret opening the front door now. Girls with boyfriend trouble, hell-bent on unburdening themselves, weren't his forte at the best of times, but when he had a night out planned in Bath, they were a complete pain in the bum.

Jake was fond of Nuala, it went without saying, but she had only come over to the cottage to regale Maddy with her woes. When he'd told her Maddy wasn't here, he'd expected Nuala to leave, but she'd come in and started off-loading her woes onto him instead.

“I don't care! I'm going to sue the bloody woman who wrote this stupid bloody book!” Ripping out yet another page and crushing it into a ball, Nuala wailed, “Eight pounds ninety-nine, can you believe that? I actually paid her eight pounds ninety-nine to completely bugger up my life…
aaargh
!”

Jake, who'd been in the shower when the doorbell had gone and was only wearing a purple towel, ducked as the balled-up paper missile whistled past his head. The kitchen floor was awash with them and Nuala evidently planned to keep on going until she'd used up every page, fueled by the bottle of Bombay Sapphire gin she'd brought along with her from the Angel.

“You shouldn't be drinking that stuff on its own,” said Jake. “At least put some orange juice with it.”

“Don't bully me. This is my worst night ever. Do you think he'll change his mind?” Nuala pleaded, sloshing another inch of gin into her glass.

“Honestly? No.”

“
No?
” She looked distraught. “You don't mean that!”

With a sigh and a surreptitious glance at his watch, Jake saw that it was eight o'clock already. Maddy, having left her cell phone at home, was uncontactable. Sophie was staying over at Tiff's house tonight. And since he clearly wasn't going to be allowed to abandon Nuala in her current state of drunken grief, he knew he may as well give up any thought of going out.

“Look,” he said. “These things happen. You and Dexter were never right for each other. You'll be over him in no time.”

“Never.” Misjudging the angle of her glass, Nuala dribbled gin down her chin.

“You deserve so much better,” Jake persisted, this being a useful line he often resorted to himself.

“Oh, do me a favor. I'm not that stupid. Anyway, you have no idea how I feel,” Nuala said miserably. “How can you? You've never been rejected in your life.”

Jake smiled briefly to himself as he opened the fridge and pulled out a carton of orange juice. If only she knew.

Aloud he said, “That's absolutely not true. I wrote a love letter to Madonna when I was twelve and did she write back? Never, not one word. I was distraught.”

As he edged toward the door, Nuala looked up fearfully, clearly terrified of being left on her own. “Where are you going now?”

Jake indicated the bath towel slung around his hips.

“Call me old-fashioned, but I thought I might put some clothes on.”

Still wary, she said, “And after that?”

“After that?” Realizing that he really was stuck here for the evening, Jake decided he may as well make the best of it. Ruffling Nuala's already ruffled hair, he said affectionately, “I'm going to help you finish that bottle of gin.”

“Thanks.” Nuala's mouth began to wobble with relief. She couldn't have handled being abandoned by two men in one night. “Just to warn you, though, I may get a bit weepy.”

“Hey, don't be daft.” Jake flashed her a grin. He'd had to cope with more than his fair share of weeping females in his time. “Shoulder to cry on? I'm your man.”

By eleven o'clock the bottle of Bombay Sapphire was finished.

“Empty. Bugger.” Nuala looked bereft. “What are we supposed to do now?”

“Stop drinking?” said Jake. “It's a miracle you're still awake.”

“I'm too depressed to sleep.” She pulled a suicidal face. “OK if I stay here?”

“Course you can. The bed's made up in the spare room.”

“Oh God, what am I going to
do
?” Nuala closed her eyes in despair. Every so often she forgot what had happened, then the next moment it all came rushing back to her, making her head spin with misery. “Everyone's going to be snickering behind my back. I feel so humiliated. I'll be the laughingstock of Ashcombe.”

“That's rubbish. Why would anyone laugh?”

“Because Dexter doesn't want me anymore and that makes me look
stupid
.” Nuala only realized her right elbow had been propping her up when she moved it. She promptly slid sideways on the sofa, ending up in Jake's lap.

“You don't have to look stupid.” He was attempting to haul her upright again, but Nuala decided she was happier horizontal. “Act like you're not bothered. Put on a brave face, do yourself up, and flirt for England. Isn't that better than moping around like a wet weekend?”

“Mmm.” Nodding, Nuala thought how delicious Jake smelled and how fantastic the soft cotton of his shirt felt against her cheek. He really was lovely, and—in theory—what he was saying made a lot of sense.

“Show Dexter what he's missing.” Above her, Jake was still carrying on with his pep talk. “Make it clear you don't need him.”

“Because I can do so much better, you mean? Come on, look at me.” Nuala groaned. “Black eye, bruises, cracked collarbone—oh yes, they'll really be lining up for me. Ewan McGregor, George Clooney. How am I ever going to be able to choose?”

“Don't put yourself down.” Jake gave her hip an encouraging squeeze. “By this time next week, your bruises will be gone.”

“Big deal,” Nuala muttered into Jake's shirt.

“Stop it. You're not ugly. And you
do
deserve better than Dexter.”

Turning her head, Nuala blinked up at him. Jake Harvey was possibly the best-looking male she'd ever encountered in the flesh. You couldn't look at him and not be bowled over by those cheekbones, that chiseled mouth, those incredible eyelashes of his. And he was still stroking her hip…

“You're better than Dexter,” said Nuala, suddenly realizing what would help her over this.

“Well, thanks.” Jake smiled down at her, taking it as a compliment.

Hurriedly, before she lost her nerve, Nuala said, “You could cheer me up.”

“What, tell you a few jokes?”

“Sleep with me,” Nuala blurted out. “That would make me feel better.”

Jake's hand stopped stroking her hip. “What?”

“No strings,” Nuala went on hurriedly, in case he thought she was expecting an engagement ring. “Just sex. You sleep with loads of girls, so why not me? A one-night stand, that's all I'm saying. We could do that, couldn't we? It'd be fun. And it would piss Dexter right off.”

Hell, what an offer. Jake tried his hardest not to smile.

“Nu, thanks for the offer, but I couldn't. Really. We're friends, and I don't want to spoil that.”

Eagerly Nuala said, “But we wouldn't spoil anything!”

“You don't know. It wouldn't feel right.” Jake was doing his utmost to be tactful.

“I'm too ugly!”

“You're not too ugly. We've just both had a bit to drink. Trust me, when you wake up tomorrow morning, you'll be glad we didn't do it.”

“But I want to!” cried Nuala, clearly taking the rejection personally. “This isn't fair. How many girls have you slept with in the last five years? Why can't it be my turn now?”

“Because I'm doing the decent thing for once and behaving like a gentleman.”

“That's what men say when they don't fancy you,” Nuala grumbled.

“It's what men say when they don't want to lose a good friend.” To his immense relief, Jake heard the Saab pulling up outside the cottage. Thank God for that. “Maddy's back,” he told Nuala, helping her to sit up and this time making sure she stayed up. “You can tell her about you and Dexter.” Actually, it wasn't eleven thirty yet. Now that Maddy was here, he could shoot into Bath after all.

He just hoped for Maddy's sake that she'd finally come to her senses and finished with Kerr McKinnon.

“Blimey, what's been going on here?” Maddy gazed at them, taking in the empty gin bottle and Nuala's air of dishevelment.

“Dexter's dumped me. I've never been so miserable in my life. No boyfriend, no job, nowhere to live,” said Nuala. “So anyway, I came over to talk to you about it, but you were out so I talked to Jake instead, and he said not to worry, I could move in with you.”

“I
didn't
say she could move in with us,” Jake hissed at Maddy in the kitchen. “She said she was too depressed to sleep, then she said was it OK if she stayed here, and I said yes, because I thought she meant just for tonight, not forever. You'll have to tell her.”

“How can I? She's my friend.” Energetically frying bacon for sandwiches, Maddy leaped back as the fat spattered like fireworks in the pan. “Anyway, it's too late now. You've already said she can live with us.”

“But I don't want her to!”

“That's just mean. She needs somewhere to stay.” Maddy frowned. “What have you got against Nuala?”

Exasperated, Jake said, “She fancies me. It's not exactly relaxing, sharing a house with a girl who just wants to jump on you and rip all your clothes off.”

“Oh, don't talk such rubbish. She's upset about Dexter,” Maddy scoffed. “Just because you flirt with every girl you meet doesn't automatically mean they fancy you back.”

“But—”

“Hi, can you do my bacon really crispy?” Appearing in the kitchen doorway, oblivious to their furious whispers, Nuala held out her good arm and tottered unsteadily over to Jake. She hugged him hard, then said, “I've been having a think. It's better if we don't have sex. OK?”

Maddy raised an eyebrow. Jake marveled at Nuala's ability to make it sound as though he'd been the one begging her to sleep with him.

“OK,” he said.

“Great.” Happily disentangling herself, Nuala reeled across the kitchen and peered at the frying pan crowded with bacon. “God, you have no idea how hungry I am. Any chance of a couple of fried eggs with that?”