Hate to Love You (2 page)

<<
Mine.
>>

James broke the spell by looking at me as if I’d stolen his sports car and gone on a joy ride. What the hell was his problem? My mind was annoyed but my body didn’t care. It tightened in awareness, especially my super-sensitive nipples. They hardened under my thin cotton top.

Oh...
Crap.

I’ve got to tell you about those little suckers. I am cursed with the longest nipples in the world. Even Marcia says so and she’s seen them in all shapes and sizes at the hospital. Mine are ginormously freakish. They sit on a large circle of dark pink and just wait for me to brush against something or get cold or...

I looked at James.

Aroused
.

He stood casually, his hands fisted in the pockets of his dark trousers, exuding self-confidence. I told myself I couldn’t possibly be turned on. It was crazy, yet there was no mistaking my reaction to him. A physical response to a gorgeous man, yes, but so much more than that. My mind felt more alive than it ever had; my body so eager for his touch I could feel his hands against my skin.

“I see you’ve met Paisley,” Caroline said, dragging me back into the faded grey sitting room. She brushed past me and stood next to James, eyeing my skimpy top and exposed midriff with distaste.

“Not quite,” James said.

His voice was hoarse. Constricted. He tapped his chest a few times and cleared his throat. Pleased that I’d almost provoked a coronary in the man who’d just wiped my canvas clean, I wanted to say something witty or unforgettable.

“O’right mate?” I squeaked.

Caroline made the formal introductions and I felt James taking my measure. I didn’t know why but I wanted to pass his assessment more than anything I’d wanted in a long time. Knowing Caroline, I was sure she’d painted a bad picture of me. Hell, what other kind would she? And everything James saw seemed to confirm her words. Even so, his thoughts were a slap in the face.

<<
The slutty little sister.
>>

I narrowed my sapphire blues. <<
The arrogant prick.
>>

James frowned, then schooled his features into a neutral mask and walked toward me, hand extended. My palms were sweaty and my entire body trembled with the need to touch him.

What the fuck?
Men usually got hot and heavy over me, never the other way around. Our hands touched and we yanked them back. If I looked down I knew I’d see my nipples poking out like little beacons, all because I’d been zapped by six foot one or two of
kiss me right now.

His eyebrows lifted and I clamped a hand over my mouth
.

Oh my God, had I said that out loud?

“Paisley’s not very articulate in the evening,” Caroline said, slanting me a venomous look behind James’s back.

She led him to the sofa and then my parents came in, eager smiles on their faces. They talked about James’s work trip to Australia the next morning and the upcoming wedding, while I stood there, shifting on my feet like the embarrassing relative nobody wants to claim. When I made a move toward the door, Caroline turned her artificially cultured voice in my direction.

“Have you found a job yet, Paisley or are you going back to college?”

Spiteful cow.
I dragged a smile onto my face and turned around. “I’m between miseries at the moment, and rehab was a bitch with a whip.”

From the expression on Caroline’s face she’d told James I was a tramp but hadn’t filled him in on my drug addiction. Good. If he wanted to think badly of me he might as well base his opinion on reality, not on Caroline’s fabrications.

My mother barely managed to contain her glare. “Paisley’s going back to school next term. She’s got an interview tomorrow morning at Brighton Technical College. Secretarial studies.”

I squeezed onto the sofa next to James while my parents outlined my lack of academic ambition and my utter disinterest in joining salaried drudgery. The spicy smell of James’s expensive aftershave stuck in my nostrils, doing nothing to dispel my underlying awareness of him.

He shifted around to look at me. “You were planning to live on social benefits?”

Underneath his politeness lurked a censorious tone that set my teeth on edge. “It’s the underclass way, isn’t it?”

Caroline sighed to show how much she cared. “Paisley struggled in school but we’re hoping she’ll find a course to match her abilities.”

Great, now I was stupid as well as lazy.

I sat up and pitched my voice to infomercial perfect. “Secretaries are employed in an extensive spectrum of industry and commerce, from international business to the creative arts, using a broad variety of eclectic skills.”

The corners of James’s mouth curled up and I shrugged. I’d read the college brochure with my friend Tarzan. Well, he wasn’t really a friend, more like a guy I’d met at rehab who I hung out with to heckle bad porn and moan about life. His parents had told him to get a job, study something or get out, just as mine had.

We’d gone for the easy option. Closing his eyes, he’d grabbed a Brighton College brochure and picked a course for me at random and then I returned the favour. I nearly shit myself laughing when my finger landed on Religious Studies. He said he’d give it a whirl.

Caroline gave me a condescending look. “I suppose everybody needs a secretary, especially lawyers. What would we do without someone to answer the phone and bring in the lunch orders?”

I rolled my eyes. “Duh, not have any work and go hungry.”

James laughed and an elegant tinkle came out of Caroline’s mouth. Sitting next to James was making me feel feverish so I got up to lean against the front window. My mother shifted uncomfortably and nudged my father.

“Caroline says you’re a Catholic, James,” he said gruffly.

If James was startled at my father’s abruptness it didn’t show. “My mother’s from Italy and brought me up a Catholic, yes.”

“And your father?”

His smile was charm itself. “He died when I was two but I understand he was a sinful atheist. That’s where I got my devilish traits, if my mother is to be believed. I was a difficult child.”

He shook his head in mock self-admonishment and grinned, making my pulse jump. I could totally see him as a young boy getting into lots of trouble, bright green eyes professing innocence while he hid the evidence behind his back.

I wagged a finger at him. “But you made up for it by being the Sunday school star, right? So you could get away with pure evil the rest of the week.”

James laughed and nodded. “You too?”

My cheeks warmed at his look, the zing of it reaching all the way to my toes. “No, I was pure evil, Sunday to Sunday. The highest I ever rose was stacking the Bibles after mass.”

“Altar boy. Once. My mother refers to it as The Black Moment.”

I laughed at his mischievous expression and we shared a look, an instant communion that made me want to launch myself across the room and into his arms. What the hell was going on? I gulped and dragged my eyes away from his.

Caroline smiled serenely. “James is ready to make a full Catholic commitment, right darling?”

“Darling” looked a bit stoned, to tell the truth, and I wondered if I looked the same.

“I appreciate that Father Martin is coming to meet me tonight,” James said, recovering.

My mother beamed proudly. “It’s a favour to Caroline. She holds a special place in his heart.”

I turned my back and made a face. Father Martin probably wanted to make sure James really was a Catholic and didn’t need to fork out for the special pre-wedding course. I surveyed the darkening street on the lookout for his old Ford Fiesta. The Lamborghini was parked behind my father’s battered van, and when Father Martin arrived the sports car would be boxed in by ugliness and corrosion.

My breath joined the film of condensation covering the window and I smiled faintly, swirling my initials onto the glass with my finger. Art had been my favourite subject in high school and my creative use of calligraphy techniques had earned me an A. I embellished my
P
with a small star but when my
B
grew a distended belly I wiped out the letters.

Crap. Our exalted family priest would sit his arse down at our table, smile at Caroline and James and fill his gut with rioja. He would extol on Caroline’s virtues and sermonise at my expense. It was bad enough listening to his prattle at St. Albert’s every Sunday. At home I couldn’t bait Father Martin with comments about Mary Magdalene getting it on with Jesus or taunt him about that closet full of disciples. Neither could I escape his thoughts.

Liar
.

Marriage wrecker
.

Slut
.

And my personal favourite,
lost soul.

When the church secretary phoned to say he had to attend an old widower for last rites, I couldn’t contain my grin. Caroline was aghast, her eyes big as she reproached me.

“Somebody is
dying
, Paisley. How can you be happy?”

I hid my embarrassment with a shrug. “He’s going to paradise. What’s not to be happy about?”

Shit, I sounded callous even to my own ears. I offered up my silent remorse to the dead guy and asked him to forgive me. When my parents disappeared into the kitchen I got my revenge.

“So Caro, I saw the picture of your wedding dress. It looks like something out of
The Great Gatsby
. I never thought you’d want to go slapper style for your wedding.”

James stiffened. “I think you mean ‘flapper’ not ‘slapper.’”

The brief connection we’d shared had disappeared and the look in his eyes was hard enough to slice through steel. My layer of I-don’t-give-a-shit was harder.

Caroline managed to look injured and spiteful at the same time. “Paisley’s vocabulary is limited. She failed her GCSE English so what can we expect?”

I did
not
fail. I just... Well, I deferred the successful completion of my course. I didn’t get a chance to explain that to James though. My mother fluttered into the sitting room with a tray of sparkly stuff and four tumblers.

“Nothing but the best for Caroline and James,” she said brightly.

The cork hit the ceiling and James caught it in his hands. I smirked at Caroline’s face as she watched our mother pour out Aldi’s finest cava. Only champagne in crystal flutes would have been good enough for my sister. How our working-class parents would fit into her life after her marriage was no mystery—they wouldn’t.

My ruddy-faced, beefy father made the toast. His perpetual frown had been replaced by an expression that was open and eager to please.

“María and I are chuffed to have you as a son-in-law, mate. May you and Caroline always be happy.”

Caroline flashed the huge rock on her finger, telling us yet again of how James had taken her to Hatton Gardens and she’d had it made to her specifications. I looked at the ring dispassionately. Diamonds may be a girl’s best friend but I’d engage the enemy if it meant I could have rubies or sapphires. Gems that were colourful and warm, that expressed passion and desire.

Diamonds were as boring and insipid as Caroline herself, as was the story of James’s proposal. Hearing it I felt disappointed somehow. It was so clichéd I laughed.

“Let me guess, all the other diners at the restaurant burst into applause. Very original, James,” I mocked.

“James knows I wouldn’t want it any other way,” Caroline simpered. “We both believe strongly in tradition, family values and morality. It gives our love a special flavour.”

“Like vanilla?”

My mother gave me an irritated look. “Vanilla indeed. What are you talking about?”

James shrugged and I got another whiff of his spicy aftershave. “The adolescent mind works in mysterious ways.”

I didn’t trust myself to speak out loud. <<
I’m eighteen today
,
actually.
>>

He raised an eyebrow
.
<<
Could’ve fooled me
.>>

I blinked. He had
not
shot a mental comment at me, had he? Nobody I’d met could do that, see what I was thinking and answer back. James turned away, leaving me to bite my lip in confusion.

I gave myself a mental shake down. Meeting James was screwing with my head and it was time to screw with his.

I flirted discreetly when my parents were in the room and more blatantly when they weren’t, much to Caroline’s tight-lipped irritation. James ignored me so I contrived to touch him in some way. A graze of my fingers on his knee, a bit of thigh against his leg. Not getting anywhere I brushed my breast against his arm.
Yes!
He stiffened so I did it again and he fixed me with a steady stare.

<<
You’re wasting your time
.>>

That was it. I had to know whether he was reading me or if the vodka I’d had was laced with acid. I made my eyes wide and innocent.

<<
Why
,
whatever do you mean?
>>

<<
You know exactly what I mean
.>>

Bloody hell!
My mouth dropped open. Feeling reckless I leaned in again, this time harder. A bad idea since my nipple hardened against James’s arm.

<<
I
told you to stop.
>>

<<
No
,
you said I was wasting my time.
>>

<<
I
know all about your games
,
Paisley.
>>

I had no idea what he was talking about but I went with it. <<
Want to play?
>>

Caroline looked between us and frowned, and James gathered her closer. Although shaken by our rapid exchange and disgusted my sister’s blue blood could read me, our silent conversation had been worth it. Anything that made Caroline squirm was satisfaction guaranteed. I gave up trying to bait James though, to study him, more than a little freaked by his ability.

Every once in a while our eyes would meet and I’d get a sense that I was missing something. Something big. It was like that feeling when you’ve forgotten a word and spend hours trying to remember it, only this was more frustrating, more intrinsic to my peace of mind somehow. I couldn’t put my finger on what I was feeling but I seemed to want something, to need something from James.