Off the Record (9 page)

‘I can’t imagine your father being cranky,’ she smiled, swaying to the beat.

‘Nobody’s perfect,’ he said, his hands catching her hips and beginning to move with her.

Kate froze, fighting the urge to lean back into his solid warmth. He ignored her hesitation and pulled her close. She tried to think of something to say, but couldn’t. Paul took her silence as acquiescence and began a slow seductive dance, his hard body warming hers. They were barely moving, but every little movement seemed to reverberate through her. She felt him grow hard against her back.
Oh my Lord,
thought Kate.
I am in so much trouble!

‘Take me, for instance,’ he continued, his lips touching her ear. ‘I have this real bad allergy to the press, they bring me out in hives. But you, Ms Armstrong, are tempting me to break a habit of a lifetime.’

She gulped. ‘Does that mean you’re going to let me interview you?’

He laughed softly, and she felt him move his head against her hair. She thought he was shaking it, but it felt like a caress.

‘Sorry, babe. No interviews. If I have anything to say, it goes into my music. That way, I keep full control. No one can put words in my mouth.’

‘Even if I get you full editorial approval?’ she asked, trying to get annoyed that he’d called her ‘babe’ again.

‘Even then. You know as well as I do, even if I OK what you wrote, your editor could still play around with it before it goes to press. All it takes is a word deleted here, a sentence taken out there, and the whole meaning gets screwed.’ She shook her head, but before she could argue, he went on. ‘Or he could put a picture with it, and no matter what the copy says, everyone will take their cue from what they see. That’s why your pap friends are so popular. You write a sweet little piece about what a nice guy I am, they slap a shot of us locking lips next to it, and hey! We get ourselves caught in the middle of a feeding frenzy.’

She winced. For a little while she’d managed to forget about those pictures. He had a point. Until this morning she wouldn’t have believed her editor could be so mercenary with a staff member, but now she wasn’t so sure. He could be bluffing, but then again, he didn’t usually say something he didn’t mean.

‘I’m sorry about that, by the way,’ he said. ‘I never figured I’d be spotted in London. Guess I learned that lesson. Nowhere is safe.’

The audience erupted as the song ended with a crash of cymbals, Johnson leaping into the air, arms outspread. Kate had hardly noticed what had been going on since Paul had touched her. He lifted one hand from her hip now, checking his watch. She wanted him to put it back. ‘Have you seen enough? We could get out of here, and meet them back at the hotel later.’

‘You want to leave now?’ She glanced at the stage, where Johnson was acknowledging the crowd’s adoration, even as the band was moving on to the next number.

‘I’ve got a ride back in ten minutes. You’ll be seeing this about thirty times over the next couple of months. By the end of the tour, you’ll be sick of it.’

‘You’re probably right,’ she said. ‘But this is the first time I’ve seen it, and I’ve got a review to do for the paper. I really need to hang around to the end, then go back to my room and get on with it.’

He gently put her away from him and turned her around. It was a shock to Kate – she hadn’t realised how comfortable she’d become, leaning against him, cocooned in his warmth. ‘C’mon, Kate, you can wing it. Play hooky for an hour, it won’t make much difference.’

‘That’s not how I work. If I’m reviewing a concert, I need to watch it all. I won’t cheat my readers like that.’

‘And a dedicated journalist always give the readers what they want – whether it’s true or not.’

She glared at him. All the warmth and excitement she’d felt in his arms dissolved as she looked into his cool, blue eyes. ‘No. A
professional
journalist reports the truth. I’m not a fiction writer.’

‘OK,’ he shrugged, looking unconvinced. ‘We’ll see.’

‘Yes, you will.’ She turned back to the action on the stage. ‘See you later.’ Kate didn’t hear him leave, but she was aware of feeling abandoned as she stood there in the dark, watching the lights and energy, and feeling the music pounding through the air.

Part of her wanted to run after him, to say the hell with it, and enjoy some more time with this enigmatic man. But the sensible part of her was relieved he’d gone. That man was far too much for her peace of mind.

Paul left the stadium and stood in the deserted street alone for a moment. He closed his eyes and breathed in the fresh air, enjoying the quiet. His driver would be here in a minute. Back at the hotel he’d enjoy a glass of Bourbon and finish the book he’d been reading earlier.

He didn’t know why he’d tried to get Kate to come with him just now.
Damn!
Every encounter with her had been a disaster so far. Maybe he wasn’t so good at learning after all. Getting involved with her would be a bad idea on so many levels. But there was something about her that drew him like a magnet. Those few minutes backstage, his hands on her hips, his lips in her hair, her soft body against his … He shifted, uncomfortable in his jeans. He’d been sure she could feel his hard-on just now, but she’d been cool about it. He couldn’t figure out if that was because she wasn’t interested, or if she was a damn good actress. He reckoned it was the latter, because she hadn’t pulled away. If anything, for a second or two, she’d relaxed a little bit more.

The car arrived, Paul stepped forward and opened the passenger door before his driver could get out. As he subsided into the leather seat, he told himself he’d had a lucky escape. Spending time alone with Kate Armstrong could only lead to trouble.

Chapter Eleven

It was a few days before Johnson got a chance to call Alex, only to get her answerphone. He listened to her voice urging him to leave a message with gritted teeth.

‘Damn!’ He wanted to talk to
her
, not some machine. He snapped the phone off in frustration. He’d tried her cell phone number too, but with the same result. Where was she?

‘You OK, Pops?’ Paul walked in just as he’d let off a string of curses.

‘Answerphones,’ he growled by way of explanation.

‘Terrible things,’ his son commiserated. ‘Someone should run for President on the “destroy all answer phones” ticket. It should be the law that we have to stand by our phones 24/7, just in case someone calls.’

Johnson gave his son a sour look. ‘Yeah, it’d get my vote. At least then I wouldn’t have to talk to machines.’

‘So whose machine has got your blood pressure up this time? I’m guessing it belongs to a certain lady you snuck off to meet last week.’

He sighed. His son was far too perceptive sometimes. ‘Now why would you think that?’ he asked.

‘It just seems to me that you’re showing all the signs of a man with romance on his mind.’ He put his hands over his heart and looked heavenward before turning his laughing gaze onto his father, who cursed again as he felt a tide of heat wash up his neck and over his face. Whatever happened to respecting your elders? The kid was enjoying this too much! He decided that attack was the best form of defence.

‘So you talked to Kate, eh?’ he asked. ‘Are you still planning to jump her bones?’

He regretted the words as soon as they were spoken. This was Sandy’s daughter, for God’s sake! She was a nice girl and he had no cause to be so crude about her. Judging by the expression on Paul’s face, his son agreed.

‘We’re both over twenty-one, old man. Whether we decide to “jump each other’s bones”, or not, is our business.’

Johnson ran a hand over his face and blew out a frustrated breath. ‘Yeah, I know. I’m sorry, son. I shouldn’t take out my mood on you. Kate’s a nice woman.’

‘She is,’ Paul agreed, looking thoughtful. ‘Damned annoying too.’

With a chuckle, Johnson reached out and slung an arm around Paul’s broad shoulders. ‘Just like her mom, I guess. Do you think we can handle them?’

Slanting a look at his dad, Paul shrugged. ‘Hell, I’m not sure yet whether I want to. What you said the other day made a lot of sense. We live our lives in a goldfish bowl, always dodging the press, never knowing who to trust. Both her parents have been priests; mine, a rock star and a model. As soon as this tour is over I’m heading home to the States. She’s based in London. I don’t know, Dad, I like her, OK. I might even like her a lot. She’s hot. She’s sassy. But I get the feeling that … hell, I don’t know! I guess she’s not a woman you can have a fling with and walk away from. What I can’t figure out is what I really want. I’ve a feeling it might be a lot different from what Kate might have in mind.’

Johnson let his arm drop and walked over to the window. He was shaken. His son’s feelings, after only a short acquaintance with Kate mirrored his own concerns over his relationship with her mother. He stared out, not seeing the busy city scene in front of him, but Sandy’s green eyes, her creamy skin, her enticing smile.

‘I know what you mean. Maybe that’s why I’m so frustrated at not being able to talk to Sandy. I need to know whether what I’m feeling is just leftovers from losing her all those years ago, or something else. But our lives are so different – the rock star and the priest – hell, it’s the worst kind of cliché! Can you imagine the reaction if this got out? The media will crucify her.’ He shook his head and turned to face his son. ‘Now it looks as though her daughter has cast a spell over you. Does that make us the stupidest guys around, or the luckiest?’

‘I don’t know. But I’ve got a feeling it could be mighty interesting trying to find out. So why don’t you call back, and talk to her damned machine?’

Alex got home at midnight, weary and heartsore. She’d been with one of her parishioners at the local hospice. The old man had no family left and she couldn’t bear the thought of him dying alone. She’d administered the last rites, and stayed with him through his final hours. He’d died peacefully, and – much to her relief – painlessly, a couple of hours ago.

She made herself some tea and sat at the kitchen table with her hands wrapped around the warm cup, staring out into the darkness. Attending the dying was part of her work which took the most out of her these days. At least in the past she’d had David to share it with. They’d talk, and he would hold her in his arms as she’d let it all out. With a sigh she reached for a box of tissues and let the tears fall. How she missed him!

She thought of poor old John, so alone in his last years. He’d been born in the village, and apart from a spell in the army during the Second World War, he never left it. His wife was buried in the churchyard, where John would be laid to rest in a few days’ time. He’d been patiently waiting to join his beloved Elsie for the last twenty years of his life.

Would she still be here, waiting to be buried beside David, years from now?

She shuddered, suddenly afraid of being alone for so long. Much as she had loved her husband, she knew that he was in a better place, and not part of the mouldering bones left behind in his grave. During his final weeks he’d urged her to move on, to begin a new life, but until recently she had found comfort in the familiar surroundings and village life.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of the telephone. With a frown, she glanced at the kitchen clock. It was half past midnight. Who on earth would be calling at this time? Worried that it was bad news, she hurried to answer it.

‘Mum? Did I wake you?’

‘No. I just got in. Are you all right, darling?’

‘I’m fine. Sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you, but I’ve just finished speaking to Paul and wanted to talk to you.’

‘Paul Brand? Is … he … OK?’ She realised that her first concern was that Johnson was all right.

‘He’s fine, but his dad has been trying to phone you all day and is not a happy bunny apparently.’

‘Johnson? I don’t understand. I’ve been out. Why’s he unhappy? Is something wrong?’

‘Not as far as I can tell. Paul seems to think it’s highly amusing, his dad getting his knickers in a twist because you weren’t answering the phone. I think he left a couple of messages, which in itself is a good sign because he hates answerphones.’

Alex looked guiltily at the red light blinking on her machine. She hadn’t even looked at it when she’d got home. ‘Oh dear! I’d better call him in the morning.’

‘I’d do it now if I were you. They’re still up. Just got back from their Newcastle gig. It went fantastically well. The band are always as high as a kite on adrenalin after a show. I was ready for bed, but I ended up in the bar having a drink with Paul and the crew,’ she grumbled. ‘Now I’m wide awake.’

She had to ask. ‘You get on well with Paul then?’ Then immediately regretted it. Kate was over twenty-one and she had no right to pry into her social life. However, Kate didn’t take offence.

‘We get on OK. It’s odd really,’ she mused. ‘We’re from completely different worlds, but we seem to get along fine. I hadn’t expected that. Not that anything is likely to come of it.’

‘Why not? If you like each other?’

‘Mum, don’t go reading too much into anything. It’s all very platonic.’

Alex frowned at Kate’s firm tone. ‘All right, dear. Friends. I get the message.’

Kate sighed. ‘Come on, Mum! How on earth could Paul and I make any sort of lasting relationship when he’s travelling the world half the time and living in the States for the rest of it? And in any case, I’m not sure I want to take the risk with him. He strikes me as far too dangerous for a girl’s peace of mind.’

‘Mm, I can see your point. I’d hate it if you got hurt.’

‘I know, Mum, but I’m a big girl now. I’m not daft, and much as I’m enjoying the odd conversation with him, I doubt I’ll have the chance to get to know him well enough to get hurt.’

Alex prayed that that was the case. For herself, she had a feeling that Johnson could have a great deal of power over her. Just that brief meeting last week had rekindled all sorts of hopes and dreams. The trouble was, she didn’t know whether they were merely echoes of first love, or something that might have the potential to develop into a meaningful and lasting relationship. Right now she felt too vulnerable to even think about it.

‘So, are you going to phone him?’

‘I … I don’t know. I haven’t got his number.’

‘Got a pen? Paul gave it to me for you.’

Feeling outmanoeuvred, Alex dutifully wrote it down and promised to call straight away.

But after Kate had rung off, she hesitated. It was almost 1 a.m. Surely it was too late to call now? To delay making a decision, she pressed the play button on her answer phone. There were three messages. One was from the church warden reminding her about the forthcoming meeting of the Parochial Church Council. Alex checked that she had it in her diary, knowing full well that it was there. She’d never missed a meeting yet, but the blasted man still didn’t trust her to get there. Irritated, she pressed the delete button. The next was from a young woman enquiring about getting married in the village church. Alex wrote down her name and number so that she could get the Parish Secretary to call her in the morning. Why did people assume that they needed to talk to the vicar rather than the secretary who set up the schedules for services? It was stated quite clearly in the parish magazine what they needed to do.

Now thoroughly irritated, Alex paused before listening to the last message. She took a deep breath, realising that she’d allowed her disappointment that neither of the first two messages had been from Johnson to get the better of her. She’d waited for his call, and had finally decided that it wasn’t going to come. She thought that she’d accepted it, but just the mention of his name had got her all churned up again.

Perhaps it wasn’t a good idea to call him after all. Kate’s comments about Paul’s life applied to Johnson too, and Alex had even more reason to suppose that their lifestyles would not mesh. Pushing her hair back with a tired hand, she pressed the play button again. She’d listen to the final message then go to bed. It probably wasn’t him anyway. But she was wrong.

‘Hey, Sandy, are you there? Can you pick up? Hell, I hate talking to damned machines! Look, I’d really like to talk to you again. Call me. Please. Any time. My number’s …’ and he recited the same number that Kate had given her.

She didn’t know what to do. Just the sound of his voice sent shivers of excitement racing through her body. Was she mad? ‘I’m too old for this.’

She stood up, determined to go to bed, when the phone rang again. She jumped, her hands clutching her chest. For a moment she hesitated, torn between the possibility that it might be a parishioner with an emergency, and the chance that it might be Johnson. When the machine clicked in she remained frozen in place, waiting to hear who it was.

‘Mum? Oh, you must have gone to bed. Sorry. I just remembered that Johnson has offered me a couple of tickets for their gig in Manchester on Monday night. As Tuesday is your day off I thought you could come up and stay overnight. I’ve already booked you a commuter flight out of Bristol, and I’ll meet you at Manchester airport. We can see the concert, then spend the next day exploring Manchester. I hear the shopping up there is fantastic. OK, speak to you soon. Love you!’

Alex sank down into her chair again. Was the whole world conspiring against her? She’d just decided to avoid Johnson, when her own daughter had scuppered her plans. Kate knew full well that if she’d gone to the trouble of booking a plane ticket Alex would be reluctant to let her down.

‘OK, if that’s how it’s going to be, I might as well talk to the blasted man!’ With jerky movements, she dialled the number, half hoping that she would be able to leave a message. It was answered on the second ring.

‘Sandy?’

‘H … How did you know it was me?’

He laughed. ‘I’ve tried ringing your number so often that I had to programme it into my speed dial. Your name came up on the display.’

‘Oh,’ was all she could think of to say.

‘You OK, honey? You sound a bit weird.’

She shook her head, trying to clear it. ‘I … I’m fine. It’s been a long day, that’s all. Katy … Kate said you would still be awake and that I should call you.’

‘How did she know?’

‘She’s been talking to Paul. She said your gig was good tonight.’

‘Yeah, we rocked. How do you feel about that?’

‘I’m very pleased for you,’ she responded, puzzled. What did it matter what she felt about the success or otherwise of his concerts?

‘What? Oh, no, I meant about Kate and Paul talking?’

Alex was silent for a moment. ‘He’s not married, is he?’

‘Nope.’

‘In a committed relationship?’

‘No, ma’am,’ she could hear the smile in his voice.

‘Not dependent upon drugs or alcohol to get him through the day?’

‘Hell no! I brought him up better than that,’ he snarled. ‘My son is clean, and he doesn’t have any communicable diseases either.’

‘Then I have no objection whatsoever to our children being friends,’ she responded. ‘Although …’

‘What?’

She sighed, wondering how to put this without getting him really angry. ‘I just worry for my baby, that’s all. After all, Paul’s based in America. Kate has a life here.’

‘Will history repeat itself? Is that what you‘re wondering?’

‘I suppose so. I’m probably worrying about nothing. Kate’s a sensible girl and won’t jump into a relationship that she knows won’t work. Although if they wanted to, I suppose they could make it work.’

‘You’re right. They’re both adults. We have to let them get on with it. So what about us, Sandy? Did you miss me?’ His abrupt change of subject from their children to themselves startled her.

‘Well, I don’t know. I suppose so.’

‘You suppose so?’ She could almost see his pout. ‘What kind of an answer is that?’

‘The only one you’re going to get at …’ she checked the clock, ‘after one in the morning! I’ve been up since six, and I’m ready for my bed. I can’t be expected to make intelligent conversation after the day I’ve had.’ She cringed as the last sentence came out on a whine. ‘Sorry. I’m sorry. I should have waited until tomorrow to call. This is silly.’