Perfect Stranger (9 page)

When the others decided to go to another club, I made my apologies and headed for home. I’d love to stay out dancing until the early hours, but I’d promised Rob I’d be home before midnight. Like Cinderella. With any luck, he’d be in bed and wouldn’t realize it was closer to one in the morning.

I paid the taxi driver and tiptoed up the path to the front door, my key in hand. Though the key turned in the lock, the door didn’t open. Huh? I jiggled the key, snapped it right and left, and then shoved at the door. Fuck. Rob must have slipped the catch into place. There was no way I could open it from the outside.

What should I do? I could phone him or bang on the door. Would he be asleep? Ours was the ground-floor apartment, so I could rattle on the windows, but our bedroom was at the back, and
that
meant walking down a narrow unlit alley, to get access.

I knocked on the door. “Rob? Are you awake? I can’t get in.”

Nothing.

I dug out my phone and had just pulled up his number, when I heard a clicking sound and the door swung open. Rob stood there, fully dressed, beer bottle in hand.

“Hi.”
God.
I forgot sometimes how handsome he was. After fending off wannabes in the nightclub for the last couple of hours, it was a thrill to come home to my sexy hubby. “I couldn’t open the door.”

He stepped aside, let me in, and locked the door behind me. “Do you know what time it is?”

“Umm.” I tried to focus on the time on my phone. “Eleven-something?”

“It’s nearly one. Where the fuck have you been?”

I tried to pout. When Isobel pouted, it made her look even prettier. “You know where I’ve been. Out with Kate.” I reached down and unfastened my shoes, then toed them off to lie abandoned on the floor. “How was the thing with Malcolm?”

“They wanted to meet my wife. I told them you were sick.”

“What? Why?”

“Was I supposed to tell them my wife was shaking her ass inside Metro-Metro? You said you were going to the theater.”

How did he know which club I’d been to? In bare feet, I barely came up to his chin, and I had to peer up at him. “I did. And then dinner, and then… How did you know?”

“I was driving past and saw you in the queue.” He stepped closer, crowding me. “Who did you say you were with?”

I didn’t. “Kate, Isobel”—I ticked the names off with my fingers—”Pippa, and Lucy.”

“What about the guys?” He moved again, blocking me against the wall.

“What guys?”

“The guys that went into Metro-fucking-Metro with you.” He spoke slowly, each word clear and cold.

“There weren’t any.” I laughed. What a silly idea. “I went with Kate and the girls.”

“I fucking saw you, Jenny. In the queue. Some arsehole had his arm around your shoulders.”

That didn’t sound right. I had a few drinks, but I’d remember that, surely. “You’re mistaken, babe.”

“Don’t call me a fucking
liar
.” He yelled the last word.

Everything happened in slow motion. Rob lifted his hand. He snapped his wrist. The bottle flew at the wall near my head. The glass smashed, sending foamy beer cascading over the wall and carpet. Brown glass flew outward. I squealed and covered my eyes.

“Now look what you’ve done.” He grabbing the neckline of my dress like it was a dog collar and shoved me to my knees. I was kneeling in broken glass, the smell of beer surrounding me. “Clean it up, Jen. I don’t want to hear more excuses.”

What the fuck? My head spun, and my stomach churned, and for a second, I thought I was going to be sick. My knees were bleeding. I had shards of broken glass in my hair and beer all over my prettiest dress. I gazed up at Rob. One thing needed to be said. “There weren’t any guys. Nobody had their arm around me.”

Rob tightened his jaw. He leaned back against the kitchen doorway and tucked both hands into his pockets. “You shouldn’t have gone there. You didn’t say anything about going clubbing. What kind of tramp goes to a nightclub, instead of going out with her husband? That’s why I said you were sick.” He nudged at the base of the bottle with his foot. “Now clean up this fucking mess. I’m waiting.”

Stunned, I picked up the pieces with my bare hands, and then dabbed at the liquid with tissues from my bag. My fingers were cut by the time I’d finished, and I had a lattice of scratches across my knees. Rob watched every move I made, not allowing me to get up until he agreed the floor was glass-free. Then he fetched me soapy water and a cloth, to wipe the wall and clean the carpet.

I did it all on auto-pilot. In my head, I was still dancing with Kate and the girls or fast asleep in bed, with Rob snoring beside me. Either was better than the truth.

It was nearly three o’clock when I tried to go to bed, only Rob insisted I shower first. I stunk of beer, so it made sense. I stood under the hot water, eyes closed. Was I scared of Rob? I’d seen him in a rage before, but he’d never hurt me. He loved me too much.

As if he read my thoughts, he stepped under the water behind me and held me close. “I’m sorry, dumpling. So sorry. Thinking about you with someone else… I can’t handle it.”

My throat was tight with unshed tears. “There weren’t any guys, Rob. I wouldn’t do that.”

“I didn’t mean for this to happen, Jen. I just—
Fuck.
” He huffed a beer-scented breath that made me gag. “I love you so much. Don’t do that again.”

The week flew by, and suddenly it was the day of the newly created team meeting. Everyone was at the pub except Adam, so I handed out the agenda. We’d have to start without him, otherwise I’d never finish the monthly report. I’d be up late, anyway.

I was about to launch into the first item, when an excited look flitted across Liane’s face. I followed her gaze and saw Adam walking in. Great. My newest employee was the latest to crush on him.

Strolling beside Adam was an equally tall man, hair hidden under a reversed baseball cap. That must be Colin.

“Hi guys.” Adam winked at the group and bestowed his lazy grin on Liane, before turning to acknowledge me. “Let me introduce our new Relationship Manager, Colin Hooper.”

I managed a tight smile. “Hi. We’re about to start. Would you like to join us?”

“We’ll grab a beer first,” said my boss. “Don’t wait for us.” 

I didn’t know whether to feel annoyed or relieved.
Stay calm. Be professional.
“Right.” My voice boomed out louder than I expected, and everyone stared at me. “Let’s get this meeting going.”

We covered the sales targets and year-to-date totals, and then moved onto customer feedback. We’d had a good month, and I began to relax. Mistake. Adam and Colin joined the group, taking chairs at the side and holding a barely muted conversation. I caught occasional words. It sounded as though they were talking about a TV show. Why bother attending the meeting if they weren’t going to take part?

I dragged my focus back and listened to Dave and a minor issue he’d encountered. “I can talk to the Procurement Manager, if you’d like. I’ve got a good relationship with him, and I’m sure we can sort this out quickly,” I said.

“Actually, Kate, that’d be a great opportunity for Colin to get his feet wet. Don’t you agree?” Adam nodded to Dave. “Rather than sorting it out over the phone, why don’t you both go down to London and meet them, face to face? You could stay at the new Plaza hotel. ComCo gets preferential rates.”

Dave’s face lit up, and he looked at me eagerly.

“This is something we can fix with a ten-minute call, Adam,” I said. “It’s not cost effective to send two people to London, especially with an overnight stay.”

My boss raised one eyebrow, and then smirked. “According to your mandate, every member of your team is supposed to meet their primary customer contact. How is Dave supposed to do that, when Fenworthy is based in London?”

Unease rippled down my spine. “I’m not saying Dave doesn’t get to meet them. I’m just querying the validity of this trip, for this reason.”

“Hmm.” Adam rocked his chair back, to lean against the wall. “Colin has a separate budget to the Call Center. How about he picks up the tab this time? And if he’s paying, Dave may as well stay for a couple of days and tour the other London-based accounts.” He grinned at my employee. “What do you say, Dave?”

“Yes, please.” Dave flashed a guilty look at me, but I could see how excited he was.

Damn it. I needed Dave in the office, to help train one of the newbies, and now he’d be out for several days.

A loud snort of laughter erupted from Colin, and I glared at him. “Sorry,” he said and gestured with his hands. “Please, carry on.”

It’d be easier working in a zoo.

This feeling intensified when some of the ComCo Account Managers drifted in to gather around Adam and Colin, and began chattering noisily.

I abandoned the agenda and stood. “I think we can say the meeting is over. Anyone want another drink before I go?”

“Not leaving us already, are you, Kate?” Adam gave me his shark smile. “Colin was hoping to pick your brains about ComCo.”

Paula and Dave stood nearby, listening. Could I tell Adam to go to hell? Rip into him, for turning my team meeting into a comedy show? I tamped down my fury. “What would you like to know? Where should I start?”

Colin shrugged. “Perhaps I should spend some time with you next week. Get to understand your accounts a bit better.”

“Tell me, Colin, what exactly does a Relationship Manager do?” I forced the words out.

“Ah, well, now you’re asking. Better get the full role spec from Adam, but in essence, I cultivate the relationship with key accounts, manage the ComCo services—that sort of thing.”

The sort of thing
I
did.

* * * *

I didn’t get much sleep that night, but I had the satisfaction of emailing the monthly report to Adam first thing in the morning. I pressed SEND and sat back in my chair, as I contemplated going out to grab a coffee. The early starters were trickling into the office, and I had time.

My email chimed. An out-of-office note from Adam. I opened the notification and scanned the sparse message.

I’m out of the office until Friday. Please address any issues to David Brewster, Head of UK Sales.

What the fuck? Normally, if he was away, he’d direct people to me, as his second in charge. What kind of issues did he expect that I couldn’t handle? And—even more frustrating—would he
look
at the reports I’d worked on all night?

I headed to the nearest coffee bar and found a long queue waiting to be served. At least if Adam wasn’t around, he wasn’t breathing down my neck today. I could focus on my work, and maybe slip out early today, to meet my sister. She was in transit back to Manchester, and I was sketchy on the details.

The girl taking the coffee orders had a drawling American accent that reminded me of Jordan, as so many things did. Damn. Would I ever forget him? I’d tried an internet search for him, but when I searched for
Jordan M
,
Houston, London,
I’d turned up half a million hits.

I faced up to the fact that I’d never see him again. It wasn’t a nice thought.

I was at my desk early on Thursday morning. Rob had a site meeting on the opposite side of town but insisted on driving me to work. He was being lovely. He’d pretty much spent the past four days apologizing for losing his temper and making it up to me. I’d been pampered on Sunday, from lunch at a cozy little pub in the country, to drinks and snacks in the evening, and snuggling while we watched a movie. My shock at his anger was fading. I’d been drinking on Saturday, and my judgement had been off.

A niggling sense of doubt remained. He’d never hurt me before. If he had, I wouldn’t have stayed with him. To be fair, he hadn’t hurt
me
on Saturday night, and if I’d been clumsy picking up the broken bottle, that was my own fault. Rob was my husband, my rock, and my harbor in a storm. He wanted the best for us, and as he frequently reminded me, he loved me more than anyone ever had. More than my parents, who effectively washed their hands of me once I’d married.

“Ahem.”

I looked up, startled, and saw Cade standing beside me. He dressed casually, as all the developers did, but he somehow looked better in jeans and a shirt than the Sales guys in their flashy suits. “We should talk. Is now a good time?” He shoved his hands in his pockets and gazed down at me. “I’m going to get a coffee, if you want to come with me.”

The last thing I wanted was to talk to Cade. I’d take a wisdom-tooth extraction without anesthetic over a little chat with him, but it had to be done. I squashed down the butterflies flitting inside my stomach. We had to work together, but that was all.

He waited for my reply. My mouth was so dry, I didn’t think I could speak, so I nodded. I picked up my security pass, dug into my desk for coins, and stood. My knees shook, but I could brazen it out.

I followed him into the elevator. “Level Five? The coffee bar there?” I’d no intention of venturing outside with him. I pressed the button for the fifth floor before he could reply. One coffee. Ten minutes. It was nothing.

He didn’t speak until we queued up to place our orders. The café area was noisy, with pockets of staff chattering in bright voices, and I relaxed a little. It was a very public place. Our conversation would have to stay within safe lines.

“What did you do to your hands?” he asked.

I glanced down. My palms were crisscrossed with thin red scratches. “Oh, it was nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like
nothing
.”

Why did he have to be so nice? Why couldn’t he ignore me? “I was cleaning up some broken glass.” I focused on the girl behind the counter. There were still two people ahead of us. “What do you want to talk about, Cade?” As if I didn’t know.

We shuffled another step closer to the cash register. I refused to look at Cade.

“We need to clear the air. Does your husband know I work here?”

“Ah, no.”

He cursed softly. “You need to tell him, Jen. I refuse to spend the next six months looking over my shoulder. And I promise you, if he tries to take me on again, I’ll press charges.”

I couldn’t get enough air into my lungs. Fear and panic jostled together, and for one horrifying moment, I thought I was going to faint. I grabbed the counter with one hand, while I fought to catch my breath.

“
Hey
.” Cade slung an arm around my shoulder and held me upright. “You okay?” He veered me away from the counter, to a nearby seat, and guided me to sit down. “Stay here while I get the drinks. Skinny latte?” He remembered what I liked.

Shame washed over me, and I hung my head and tried to drag back the shards of my composure. I couldn’t have been more embarrassed. Minutes later, he sat opposite me, two steaming mugs between us. He stared at me, as though he could pluck out the thoughts from my head. “We used to be friends, Jen. I know we can never go back to that, but we need to figure out how to stop your husband from going psycho on me.”

“I don’t want that,” I whispered.

“Neither do I.” He leaned back and dragged a hand through his short hair. It suited him rumpled—and why on earth was I thinking that? “So how are we going to do this? We’re grownups, not kids in the playground,” he said.

I nodded, then shook my head. “I don’t know.”

“Okay. So how about you tell me what I did wrong? I never really understood.”

Oh, God. Without thinking about it, I looked left and right and contemplated fleeing. My chest tightened, and the sick, swirly feeling kicked off in my stomach again. I couldn’t talk about this.

“Jen?” Cade reached across the table to touch my hand. “I think you owe me that.”

I wrapped my hands around the mug and stared at the thick milk froth. “Not here. Not right now. I
can’t
.”

“So when? Until we talk about this, it’s not going to go away.”

“Friday.” I swallowed. Hard. “I’ve got some time free. I’ll book a meeting room for a brainstorming session, and we’ll talk then.”