Pole Position (3 page)

It wasn’t until breakfast the next day that I saw Colette and finally shared my news with her. She’d been excited enough I had a dinner date, but to find out it was with sporting celebrity Jon Craigowan… Her toast halted on its way to her mouth.

“You’re winding me up. How on earth did you meet him? He’s gorgeous! Can I come too?”

“
No
.” I laughed, delighted she was envious of me, for once. “I met him out riding, and he came into the shop yesterday. I’m surprised you never spotted him.”

“Hey, Danny,” Colette called out as he walked past the kitchen on his way to the front door. “You’ll never guess who Anita is having dinner with on Friday.”

Danny popped his head into the kitchen doorway. “Good morning to you, too, Colette.” He gazed thoughtfully at me. “Would it be Graham? The doctor who booked a second lesson with you?”

“You always only think of your bloody horses,” said Colette, her exasperation clear. “Have you heard of Jon Craigowan? He drives cars rather than horses, so maybe not.”

Danny frowned. “He was talking to you on Sunday.”

I nodded, and crunched my toast.

“And you’re having dinner with him?”

I nodded again, fighting to hold back my grin. Would Danny be excited too?

“You’ve got to be kidding. Tell me you’re just messing around.” His voice was sharp.

“I’m having dinner with him on Friday. He came into the shop yesterday, we had lunch, and he invited me—”

“
Jesus
, Anita.” He interrupted, his face darkening. “He’s a fucking playboy. You can’t seriously be thinking of going out with him.”

Colette and I both stopped chewing and stared at him.

“You’re an innocent. He’ll eat you up and spit out the remains, then move on to the next willing body. Is that what you want? To be just another notch on his already well-scarred headboard? I didn’t think you were like that.”

I’m not
.

Heat bloomed in my cheeks, and the toast crumbs threatened to lodge in my throat. I swallowed them down, and sought my composure. “It’s only dinner.”

“Yeah, only dinner. Then he pounces. What if you’re so flattered you can’t refuse? He’s a complete fuckwit, mark my words.”

“But Danny, you said—only the other day—you wanted to meet him. What’s changed?”

He rolled his eyes and stomped into the kitchen, arms crossed. “I’d like to meet him, as one bloke to another. I don’t want you to get involved with him. He’ll fucking destroy you.”

I sat there, unable to say anything. I’d known Danny all my life, and he’d never behaved like this before.

He tugged angrily at his tufty, ginger hair, and sat down next to me at the table. “Anita.” His voice was gentle. “He shags women and moves on. His wife divorced him because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. He dates models and actresses, not nice young girls who work in bookshops. He’s bad news. Please don’t go out with him. You’re not that type of girl.”

It felt as though Danny had smacked me in the face. His words rang through my head. Could he be right? After getting tangled with Rob, I stayed well clear of anyone that could be labeled bad news. But the Jon I’d had lunch with was nothing like the monster Danny was talking about.

Was this going to be another huge mistake? The only way to find out would be to have dinner with him, and pray my instincts served me better now.

****

Colette dragged me to the shop computer, where she’d Googled Jon’s name.

I stared at the pictures of him with an endless stream of women on his arm.
Thousands of hits.

She sighed. “He’s not so bad, Anita. He’s just had a lot of publicity over the past year.”

I eventually found my voice. “What was all that about his wife?”

“According to the papers he’s getting divorced from Susie Brooks.”

I’d no idea he was even married.

Colette pulled up a picture taken at some event or another. Jon looked gorgeous, dressed in black tie, with an undeniably glamorous woman hanging on his arm. Her ash blonde hair swished around a heart-shaped face as she gazed into his eyes, a small smile playing on the edges of her lips. It felt ridiculous to suggest they could be anything other than madly in love.

“Susie Brooks? And she is?”

“Actress. This was taken at one of her premieres. She starred opposite Will Ralph, in that sci-fi thriller last year.”

How could I be thinking about going to dinner with someone who went to Hollywood premieres? I wanted to laugh at the idea.

“Look, Anita, he’s asked you to dinner. That’s all. He’s not dragging you off to some Hollywood cave somewhere, or asking you back to his playboy penthouse. According to the papers, he lives with his parents at the moment. Not very shag-fest is it? And so he’s had a few girlfriends. Well, what of it?”

“But Danny was so fierce.” I still felt shaken by his violent reaction, completely at odds with his normal behavior toward me. I trusted Danny. He’d always been in my corner, and without him, I’d be a mess. His support and affection had nursed me through the dark days after Rob, and I’d no reason to doubt him.

All the same. I was drawn to Jon in a way I couldn’t explain.

Colette looked at me as though considering her words carefully. “I think he’s a touch put out. Jealous if you like.”

“Jealous? Of what?”

“The fact you’ve been asked out by someone rather more glamorous than a riding school instructor.”

“That’s crazy. Danny’s not my boyfriend or anything.
Christ
. He’s like my brother, you know that.”

Colette shrugged, logging out of the gossip pages as our manager came into the staffroom behind us.

“If I were you, I’d go tomorrow night. What have you got to lose?” She gave a smug, cat-like smile. “And if he loses interest, pass him on to me. Who knows, he might have a thing for Irish chicks.” She hugged me. “I’m joking, about passing him on to me. But you should go, hun. When does this ever happen?”

How often did I get the chance to do something different, to step outside my normal life? Colette was right, and I made up my mind. I
would
be going to dinner with Jon on Friday, and I would bloody well make the most of it. It was just dinner, no strings.

I’d found the most fabulous dress in Cumberley: a shimmering, black sheath, with spaghetti straps and a low-cut neckline, the hem falling to just above my knees. I glanced at the tag and hesitated. It was wildly expensive by my standards, but all I had in my wardrobe was riding gear and work clothes. I thought fast. I had some pretty suede sandals I’d bought for a wedding, and I could borrow Colette’s sheer black Pashmina to use instead of a jacket. She wouldn’t mind, and it would look perfect.

I raced home after work, sprinted up the stairs to my bedroom, and dashed into the shower. Half an hour later, I was in the kitchen doing a twirl for Colette.

“Ta-dah! How do I look?”

“That dress is gorgeous.” She beamed, and rearranged the Pashmina. “I wish you’d let me do your makeup though.”

“I don’t wear makeup. Lip gloss and mascara is all I bother with.”

“That’s fine for work, and I don’t suppose your bloody horses notice what you wear, but this is a dinner date for heaven’s sake. And with a celebrity.”

“Leave her be, Colette.” Danny interrupted us. He sat at the table, leaning back against the wall with his chair at an alarming angle. “I can’t believe you’re going out with him, Anita.”

His sharp tone punctured my happy mood, and I glanced at Colette.

She leapt to my defense. “And what does it matter to you, Danny Sour-Bollocks, who she goes to eat her dinner with? It’s not as though she’s been inundated with offers recently, is it?” Her Irish brogue became more pronounced when she was angry. “For the love of God, tell her she looks beautiful.”

He glared at Colette, and flicked a mutinous glance at me. “She looks like a lamb to the slaughter.”

“
Oh
.” I sucked in my breath.

“She does
not
,” Colette roared, surprising us both. In one swift movement, she turned on Danny and whacked him over the head with the tea towel. “She looks divine, and she’s going to have a fabulous time out tonight. With or without your approval. Do you hear me?”

He stayed mute.

She hit him again. “Do. You. Hear. Me?”

In the midst of the chaos, a car engine rumbled outside, and I spotted a low red sports car cruising to the curb.
Jon
. I grabbed my purse and dashed for the door. Behind me, I heard a crashing noise and a yell. Presumably, Danny’s chair had given up the struggle. I was heartened by Colette’s fierce defense on my behalf.

There was a moment of confusion as Jon held the wrong car door open for me, but then I remembered. It was an American car. He closed the passenger door, climbed back behind the wheel, and gazed at me.

I could have stepped into a dream world and I was glad I dressed up. He looked very smart. Dark trousers, crisp white shirt with a dark silk tie, and I saw a jacket lying in the space behind the seats. His aftershave smelled the same as the one he’d worn the other day, and I could smell mint on his breath. Every sense tingled at his close proximity, and I struggled to control my nerves. I’d pinned up my hair in a rough style, leaving lots of loose tendrils, and I fiddled with these now, completely at a loss as to how to behave.

If I were Colette, I’d probably have him laughing at some joke by now, or ravishing me. I glanced across to find him gazing back at me with a quizzical expression.

“I hate to use the same line twice—you’ve already told me off about corny lines—but you look different again.”

I smiled shyly and felt completely tongue-tied. Danny’s voice jangled in my head.
You look like a lamb to the slaughter.

“You look fabulous. I’ll be the envy of everyone in the restaurant.”

My cheeks heated. I wanted to whoop aloud, but maybe that wasn’t the best way to behave. Instead, I forced myself to concentrate on what he was saying.

“Would you like some music on? I’ve got a bunch of CDs and a load of stuff on my iPod.”

He handed me his iPod, a gleaming silver case connected to the car stereo. I wasn’t going to make a fool of myself so early by saying that not only did I not have an iPod, but had no idea how to select anything on one. “You choose. I like all sorts of stuff.”

“I was listening to the Foo Fighters when I came out, d’you like them?”

“
Yes
.” Thank goodness, he liked some of the same music as me. “I adore them.” The haunting sounds of “Aurora” filled the car as he pulled away.

“Is this your favorite?” I asked. Music would be a nice, safe subject. I’d no intention of mentioning his glamorous wife or string of girlfriends.

Jon thought about it for a moment. I listened to the car humming along, purring like a giant cat.

“I think this is my favorite album. I bought it when I first started winning some races, and I listened to it endlessly as I traveled between the different tracks. ‘Aurora’ reminds me of good times, cold beers, hot nights, and driving in the desert.” He glanced across at me. “How about you?”

I knew when I next listened to “Aurora”, I’d remember this conversation and how things were at this precise moment. I stared around the car, trying to remember every detail. We were at the beginning of what might be a magical evening, and the possibilities shimmered before me. Everything felt new and shiny. I could forget everything that had happened up to now. None of it was important.

There was no simple answer and so I changed the subject. “This is a nice car, what is it?”

“A Corvette. I wanted one forever, since my dad started importing them to sell, and it’s the first thing I bought when I earned some money in the U.S. I made sure I brought it back with me. It’s my pride and joy.” Jon glanced sideways at me. “My dad showed me that when you want something badly enough, you can always get it.”

“I’m really sorry about what happened the other day. I’m not usually that careless. I didn’t damage your car did I?”

His smile warmed me. “There’s no harm done, and it was a novelty, having a lovely girl throw herself at my feet. Really good for the ego.”

“Cheeky.” He was so confident I couldn’t ever imagine him being unsure of himself.

“And besides,” his voice sounded light, flirtatious. “If you hadn’t come charging through that gate, we wouldn’t be here now. Two minutes later and we’d have missed each other.”

Jon started telling me a funny story about his car, some mix-up in the registration process. I listened attentively and laughed in the right places, still feeling very otherworldly, as though I’d stepped outside of my body and was now watching myself from a distance. The Foo Fighters raced through their songs, and we pulled up outside a huge black and white timbered manor house.

Jon turned to me, after he’d parked the car. “Well,” he said.

For one panicky moment, I’d expected him to say he’d made a mistake bringing me here. Danny’s taunt rang out again in my head but I blocked it out. Jon continued to chatter. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was as nervous as I was.