Persuade Me (13 page)

Chapter Twenty-Five

Back in his room Rick fielded a call from Lou, aware that he was only half-listening to her non-stop chatter, his head still full of something else … How many more of Anna Elliot’s male friends would turn up in Lyme Regis, for God’s sake? Maybe there was a reunion of her ex-lovers that he was the last to know about?

When he caught the words ‘all afternoon’ and ‘getting to know each other’, however, he pulled himself together. ‘Sorry, Lou, run that by me again?’

‘Henrietta and I are leaving now, we should be with you by eleven. I’d have set off at the crack of dawn, but she wanted to see Kyle – all of a sudden, she can’t bear to be away from him!’ An exasperated sigh. ‘Anyway, you and I are going out for lunch – then spending all afternoon
getting to know each other
.’ She giggled. ‘Your room or mine?’

He fabricated a sigh of disappointment. ‘I can’t, I’m in Dorchester, remember? But we could do dinner instead.’

‘Just the two of us?’ Her voice sharpened.

‘Why not? I’ll ring you when I’m on my way back to Lyme.’

She made a loud kissing noise down the phone, making him wince at the thought of what she might do to him in person. After the call was over, he slumped in the armchair with his laptop. Was he taking the right approach with Lou? She was unlikely to give him enough space to analyse his last relationship, or however Sophie had put it. Not that he knew where to start with that particular activity; maybe he should stick to analysing sea dragon specimens.

He prodded the keyboard, hunting for information about Dorchester – something he always did before an event. It focused his mind, gave him a feel for the people he might meet. As he sifted through the search results, he felt even more dispirited. Small market town, scene of the Tolpuddle Martyrs’ trial – hadn’t they been transported to Australia? Right now he almost envied them, leg irons and all … Population little more than 16,000 – what was that publicist of his thinking, getting him an event in a place that size? On second thoughts, knowing Guy, the local bookshop owner was probably some old public school pal who’d called in a favour … Supposedly the inspiration for Thomas Hardy’s Casterbridge – huh, that was the sort of trivia James used to come in handy for, in those Bangor pub quizzes …

Which reminded him, in his pocket from last night was James’s card with his website details. May as well give him some feedback – as positive as he could make it. He took out the card and typed in the address.

The first thing he saw on James’s gloomy-looking home page was the heading ‘Move On You’ in large red letters. Underneath was a brief explanation: ‘My latest poem, written in Lyme Regis after a sleepless night. Let me know what you think, especially if you’re the person who inspired it!’ Rick followed the link, wondering idly where James had got his inspiration. And then it hit him, like a runaway train …

Up came a stark white page with a few lines of heavy black Gothic script framed in red roses. How convenient, how clinical – romance at the click of a sodding mouse; flowers you could neither touch nor smell.

In contrast, he’d once made a considerable investment in a grand romantic gesture of his own – with Anna. He’d been a lovesick fool, borrowing the sailing club’s forty-four-foot Jeanneau Sun Magic and preparing the skipper’s cabin as if it was his bloody wedding night: scented candles, champagne, and the petals of six dozen red roses strewn across the bed. He’d been on tenterhooks in case Stefan, the boat’s owner, paid a surprise visit and took the piss. But at the time, he had to admit, it had been worth all the hassle. He could still remember the look on her face when he’d opened the cabin door …

And now he suspected that James had fallen under her spell, poor sod.

He forced himself to read the almost indecipherable Gothic script – not once but twice, just to make sure of the sentiments behind the words:

Too much emotion,

You said about poetry,

Without any moving on.

I could move on, I thought,

To your dove-grey eyes.

I could move on

To your soft red lips.

Oh yes, I could make a

Move on you.

Rick felt his throat constrict – and it was nothing to do with James’s crap poetry. He shut down the laptop and sat staring at the blank screen. At last he roused himself, and checked his watch; Dave would be knocking on the door at any moment.

Time for him to move on, too.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Rick phoned Guy from the car on the way to Dorchester and went straight on the offensive. ‘I’ve got a little bet with myself – the only reason I’m doing this signing is because you owe someone a favour. Am I right?’

‘You’re not wrong,’ came the guarded reply. ‘Is there a problem?’

‘Not yet. But there will be if hardly anyone turns up.’

‘If you recall the events brief you gave me months ago,’ Guy said dryly, ‘you said you didn’t want too many big venues. Something like “I get enough of that on the conference circuit in my day job.” That’s why I’ve gone for some small ones, like Dorchester – and Bath, where the bookshop only holds about thirty people. As long as the media are interested, it’ll all be worthwhile. So chill out, and be nice to the journalists, won’t you?’

It was the reality check Rick needed; he felt some of the tension ease from his neck and shoulders. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean to take my bad mood out on you. How about a drink on me when we next meet up?’

And, in the end, his fears about the Dorchester event proved unfounded. Judging by the way they streamed through the doors of Brett’s Books, the locals had an avid – and genuine – interest in
Sex in the Sea
. He enjoyed four hours of stimulating conversation and even made a couple of good academic contacts at the University of Southampton.

At quarter-past four, as Dave was driving him back to Lyme Regis, he rang Lou. ‘Hi, where are you?’

‘Rick!’ An ear-splitting squeal. ‘We’re just leaving the hotel, Ben’s organised a walk along the Cobb. Then it’s off to the pub, although I’ve told everyone that you and I are going somewhere else for dinner.’ Her voice dropped to a caressing murmur. ‘On second thoughts, scrap all that. I’ll stay here and wait for you instead – your room or mine?’

It was an echo of their earlier conversation, and he admired her determination. But he also felt slightly insulted – how could he convince her that he wasn’t desperate to go to bed on their first date? He said firmly, ‘No, I’ll meet you at the Cobb – I could do with stretching my legs and I need a word with Ben.’ Then, in a gentler tone, ‘Let’s give the pub a miss, though. We’ll get changed back at the hotel and find a nice little restaurant.’

An evening away from the others would do him good. That way he could focus on getting to know Lou without any distractions whatsoever.

In the reception area of the Cobb View Hotel, Lou pocketed her mobile and did a celebratory twirl in front of Anna and Henrietta.

‘I’m meeting Rick at the Cobb,’ she said breathlessly, ‘then we’re coming back here. Oh-God-oh-God-oh-God, I can’t wait!’ She narrowed her eyes at Henrietta. ‘There’s more than dinner on the agenda, so don’t make a fuss if I’m back late – or not at all.’

Anna looked down at the floor. After spending the afternoon with the Musgroves in various cafés and shops, she knew more than she ever wanted to about Lou’s plans for the weekend. The fact that Rick had booked a room for the two sisters to share didn’t bother Lou in the slightest. She merely assumed that it was a smokescreen, in case the media were tracking his private life. These ‘failure is not an option’ tactics were typical of Lou, although Anna secretly believed that they’d never work with Rick.

In the last few minutes, however, reality had hit home. Rick’s phone call to Lou, his obvious agreement to her plans, proved that he was up for whatever was on offer. And this was a thousand times worse than dealing with the idea of him and his Australian girlfriend, because …

Because for years Anna had cherished the fantasy that she and Rick had shared something special on the boat. Not just physical intimacy, but a meeting of hearts and minds. Sex enriched by love of the deepest, truest kind – an experience that she knew she could never recapture with anyone else. Now, right in front of her, Rick would be swinging into action with another woman. She’d had a foretaste on the walk at Uppercross, when he and Lou had kissed, but that was nothing compared with facing them across the breakfast table and
knowing
 …

Tears scratched at the back of her eyes; she felt like a little girl who’d just heard that Santa Claus didn’t exist. Why did the past have to lose some of its magic?

A nudge from Henrietta. ‘Hey, do you know that man over there? He’s been staring at us for the last five minutes. Nice-looking, except he reminds me of your father – creepy, or what?’

Anna knew who it would be before she even turned her head. Yes, lounging at the desk was William Elliot-Dunne, in an expensive-looking raincoat of palest grey. As their eyes met, he winked – and she blushed.

Fortunately no one else noticed, because at that moment Mona and Charles arrived; by the time they set off, William Elliot-Dunne had disappeared. As they passed the desk, however, Mr Pargeter called out, ‘Miss Elliot! So sorry to trouble you, I meant to check with Sir William before he went out. Is it to be a table in the dining room tonight, or would you prefer a more private dinner in the presidential suite?’

Anna felt her face flame. ‘There’s been a misunderstanding,’ she said, quickly. ‘I’m not having dinner with him tonight or any other night.’

‘Oh dear.’ Mr Pargeter drooped visibly. ‘Sir William
will
be disappointed and–’

‘Who the hell is Sir William?’ Charles put in, glancing at Anna.

Mr Pargeter drew himself up to his full height and announced grandly, ‘Sir William Elliot-Dunne, 9th Baronet of Kellynch.’

The reaction of his audience was probably not what he’d expected. ‘Isn’t that the jerk who messed with your sister?’ Charles said, while Mona yelled ‘How
dare
he use our title!’ Instantly, through the half-glazed front door they saw a long, sleek, silver-grey car surge out of its parking space and zoom towards the exit. Mona pushed forward, craned her neck to watch it – then turned to the others, a rapt expression on her face.

‘Nice-looking, isn’t he?’ Henrietta began. ‘But–’

Mona gave her a withering look. ‘I didn’t notice, I was too busy looking at his Bentley – he’s obviously not done too badly out of his affair with the Texan divorcee. But, since he’s the heir to our title, we need to find out why he’s back and what he’s up to. And it sounds as though
you
,’ she rounded on Anna, ‘are the one he wants to talk to, for some incomprehensible reason. So be nice to him until he tells you everything we need to know.’ She added, with a smirk, ‘
Noblesse oblige
, darling,
noblesse oblige
.’

Chapter Twenty-Seven

A thin drizzle was falling as Rick strode out towards the Cobb. In the fading light he recognised Lou and Henrietta deep in conversation on the top level, and Ben walking jauntily along the lower path with Cassie bobbing on his shoulders. Rick had already passed Charles and Mona looking for shelter; Mona was holding Charles’s coat over her hair and complaining, as usual, while Charles looked thoroughly wet and miserable.

Lou hadn’t seen him; so he hurried after Ben and Cassie and caught up with them about fifty yards from the far end of the Cobb. After a brief discussion about the event in Dorchester and the timings for tomorrow’s signing in Bournemouth, Rick got to the point.

‘I wanted a quick chat about James.’ He paused, glanced at Cassie and chose his words carefully. ‘Judging by what he’s put on his website today, he’s starting to get over Julie – but I’m worried that he’s jumping from the frying pan into the fire.’

Cassie turned large solemn eyes on him, obviously taking his meaning literally.

Ben grinned. ‘In that case, look up ahead and you’ll see a raging inferno.’

Rick jerked round. At the end of the Cobb he could make out two people standing next to a bench: Anna, unmistakable even in the misty rain, gazing out to sea; and James, pointing at something on the horizon and casually resting his other arm across her shoulders.

‘She seems a lovely girl, so why worry?’ Ben went on. ‘Or are you after her yourself?’

Rick forced a laugh. ‘God no, she’s not my type. But I suggest you keep an eye on James tonight – you don’t want him to get hurt all over again.’

They turned back towards the harbour. Rick hunched further into his coat and made small talk to distract his mind from the end of the Cobb. At the first set of steps – a safer alternative to the worn stumps of Granny’s Teeth – he stopped and let Ben and Cassie continue without him. Waited until Lou, still talking animatedly to Henrietta, came nearer. Called her name and heard her shriek in delight.

She clattered down the steps and, with three to go, skidded to a halt.

‘Catch me,’ she said, giggling.

No time for a reply – she simply jumped. His arms shot out to take her weight – pure reflex – and the slam of her body almost knocked the breath out of him. But he kept his balance, and his sense of humour. ‘Trying to get me hospitalised?’

‘You bet,’ she said, moulding herself to him. ‘At least that way you’d be stuck in a horizontal position for a while. In the meantime, try and imagine we’re standing in a ditch at Uppercross.’

A not-so-subtle hint that she wanted a kiss. Her persistence irritated him and – pure reflex again – he stepped back out of range. Made the mistake of looking along the Cobb, to its furthest point. Found himself short of breath, and this time it was nothing to do with Lou …

Because, as the two figures turned and walked towards him, he saw the smaller one slip on the wet ground. Instinctively, he put out his hand; but he was too far away, and it was James’s hand that stopped her from falling–

It should have been his.

A long way off, it seemed, someone shouted, ‘Rick, catch me!’

Lou, on the top step now – too high. Even if he got there in time, her weight would knock them both flying. How could she be so stupid – so bloody
stupid
!

A stranger’s voice – it might have been his own – roaring ‘No, Lou!’ just as she launched herself towards him. A two-second eternity, her legs twisting under her and her hands scratching the air.

He made a desperate lunge to reach her.

Too late.

The sickening crack of her head hitting the hard, hard stone.

And deathly silence, save for the mocking cry of the gulls.