The Goddess Rules (16 page)

“Oh, I erm . . . well I can’t really stop . . . I was just passing and I thought I’d call by and bring you . . .” He struggled for a moment with his hand in his pocket and then produced a slightly balding square of white fur. Kate looked down at it, clasped between his dirty but very slim fingers. “This.”

“Your nails are as filthy as mine,” Kate remarked.

“Yeah, yeah they are.” He turned his hand palm up and hid his grotty digits. “Occupational hazard.” Still he held out a hand, proffering the square of fur to Kate, who didn’t know whether to admire it, run from it, or take it from his slightly shaky grip.

“It’s ummm . . . it’s a piece of fur.” Kate settled for the obvious.

“It’s for you,” he said with the simplicity of a child. Louis then flicked his hair back and for a second she caught a glimpse of his eyes, which were the same olive green as his parka, only a bit more dangerous. There was a slightly demonic look about Louis sometimes, she thought as he stood before her with this strange gift. This man was so unlike Jake, who was always at ease, was never lost for a glib aside, and sadly never once shook in her presence.

“Thanks.” She took it tentatively, and he nearly dropped it as he pulled his hand away in haste. “I’ll, erm . . . well . . . what exactly
is
it, Louis?”

“Oh, Christ, didn’t I say?” He pulled the zip up on his coat until his chin vanished. “It’s polar bear fur.”

“Oh, I love it.” Kate cried as she realized what the whole past two and a half minutes of foot shuffling had been about. “That’s great. So when do you want to start?” she asked, because despite their conversation he still hadn’t called her to confirm the commission.

“God, yeah, well, I suppose we need to discuss that,” he said as if it had just occurred to him.

“Well, you could come in now if you like,” she offered. Then suddenly hoped that she’d removed the magazine with Louis in it from her bedside table, where she had put it down after lunch.

“Oh, no thanks. I’ve got to get going.”

“Well, maybe we should have a meeting sometime this week?” she said, realizing that if this painting was ever going to get done she’d have to be the proactive party in the deal.

“Yeah. Come around. I’m at Two Twenty-five Ladbroke Grove now. Just down from the canal.”

“Tuesday? Wednesday? Thursday?” She guided him gently.

“Tomorrow,” he said hastily. “Well, unless you can’t. In which case . . . well, then we won’t.”

“That sounds perfect. I’ll see you tomorrow. Two-ish?”

“Cool.” Louis nodded and was about to turn away but hastily grabbed her shoulders and gave her a kiss on either cheek.

“And thanks for the fur,” Kate added. “It’ll be really useful.”

She smiled and closed the shed door behind her. She loved Louis but God he could be hard work when his work was involved. Probably because he was a proper artist.

By the time Kate had finally transposed her sketches of Bébé onto canvas, by the time she’d gotten just the outline of his beautiful little head right, the sky had imperceptibly left behind the brilliant blue of the afternoon and taken on a rained-on inky hue of night. The sun had sunk behind Leonard’s house several hours ago and when she looked at her watch it was ten o’clock. Kate put her pencil to one side and stretched her arms in front of her, letting out a quiet squeal and then a yawn. The room was practically dark and she’d barely noticed. That was what she called a good day’s work. No matter how much she pretended that she hated what she did, a few hours at the canvas was the best way she could ever find to chase away the black dog of depression, as her father had called it. Man was made to work. As was woman. And it always left Kate feeling elated and invulnerable when she did finally get down to it. She turned on the light, poured herself a glass of orange juice from the fridge, and walked around the shed for a couple of minutes, stretching out her legs and feeling very pleased with herself.

“Yoohooo.” There was a call from the garden, Mirri no doubt, Kate thought, and went to the door and poked her head out.

“Hello?” she replied to the dark garden, for she couldn’t see anyone in the blackness of the trees.

“We thought you were out. Or asleep. But we saw your light just come on, so if you’re not busy then come join us.” As Kate’s eyes adjusted to the dark she spotted the silhouettes of two people on the hammock. One of whom was obviously Mirri; the other, more than likely, Jonah.

“I’m only coming if you’ve got your clothes on,” Kate said, laughing, as she went toward the voice.

“Hi there, gorgeous.” A deep sexy voice came from the shadowy figure next to Mirri, and as Kate approached she saw that it was indeed Jonah and Mirri. Not, thankfully, naked, but Jonah had his arm slung over Mirri’s shoulder and she was looking cozy and happy, tucked in close to his side.

“Hi, Jonah.” Kate settled onto the grass by their feet with her orange juice. “Did you both have a fun evening?”

“We’ve had quite a mellow time, haven’t we?” Jonah said to Mirri. “Just dinner and then back here. I nearly came to blows with some photographer outside the restaurant so we decided to retreat back here. Paparazzo-free zone.”

“Good idea,” Kate said.

“What have you been doing, darling?” Mirri asked as she gently stroked Jonah’s knee. If Kate hadn’t known better she would have thought that Mirri was smitten with her young suitor.

“Believe it or not, I’ve been working. I think I’ve got Bébé’s eyes perfectly. Well, one of them at least. It makes me happy.”

“Oh, and speaking of work.” Mirri leaned forward excitedly toward Kate. “I saw your young man.”

“That doesn’t sound much like work.” Jonah laughed. Then he paused. “Sweetheart, aren’t you a bit cold down there. It’s bloody damp on that grass.”

“Oh, I’m fine,” Kate scoffed. “It’s summer.”

“Get your arse over here,” Jonah demanded, shoving over on the hammock a bit and gesturing for Kate to come and sit next to him. “And besides, I’m always happier with two birds.” He grinned. “In fact, you might say that two birds in the hammock’s worth one in the bed. Eh?” Then he hastily added, “Unless that bird’s called Mirabelle Moncur.” Kate did as Jonah asked, getting to her feet and making her way over to the hammock. For some reason she felt comfortable with Jonah. It wasn’t because she was so used to hanging out with movie stars or found it easy to get on with sexy men usually, though. She put it down to the fact that Jonah was so besotted with Mirri that she didn’t need to even attempt the compulsory flirt-and-rejection scenario she might have otherwise. Jonah was like insta-brother to her. And she liked that.

“That’s much better.” He laughed as Kate snuggled in under his other arm. “Aren’t I a lucky bastard?”

“So I thought your man was divine,” Mirri said as the three got comfy on the hammock.

“You don’t mean Louis, do you?” asked Kate.

“Louis.” Mirri said the name as though it were a poem. “So charming, and so handsome, darling. Do you think maybe he is in love with you?”

“Are you sure you don’t mean Jake?” Kate was puzzled.

“Not The Slug, no. This Louis who came calling for you earlier—I was in the kitchen gutting the fish for Bébé’s supper and in he came through the kitchen. Like a very young Lord Byron.”

“No way.” Kate could barely control her mirth.

“Why do you laugh?”

“Because we cannot be talking about the same person. I mean, granted, he looked good in the photo. But wasn’t he wearing his parka this afternoon?” Kate was completely disbelieving. Then she cottoned on to the joke. “Oh hang on, I get it. You think that if you say you think he’s charming and handsome, then you’ll persuade me of it and I might find myself a boyfriend. But to be honest, Mirri, I’m not that desperate.”

“The man was beautiful. He had a coat slung over one arm and we talked very intelligently about African art for some time.”

“Sounds like a bit of a tosser to me,” Jonah said, and began to play with Mirri’s knee.

“What would you know?” Mirri snapped, and pulled away.

“Okay, guys, I’m going to head for my bed,” Kate said, sensing a fight in the making, or, worse, a making-up session, which would be even more embarrassing to witness. “I have a ton of work to do tomorrow. I’ll come around at ten. Is that okay, Mirri?” Kate asked as she kissed Jonah, and then Mirri, good night on the cheek.

“Make it eleven, would you?” Jonah asked, and winked at her. “Good night, sweetheart, you smell all sexily of turpentine.”

“Make it ten,” Mirri said pointedly. “We’re meeting Tony for a picnic at lunchtime. I also happen to think that if you’re going to be so choosy with men, then you’ll never find the right lover.”

“Good night.” Kate felt secure enough in Mirri’s affections now to take a bit of her evil temper from time to time. “See you soon, Jonah.”

And as Kate wandered back to her shed she could hear only the cooing, placating tones of Jonah and the sharp hiss of Mirri’s crossness. If Jonah didn’t watch it, he’d end up having to crawl home to his wife tonight, Kate thought. And it was only when she was back in her shed and spotted the ripped-out pages of Louis that she remembered what Mirri had said about him. But Kate knew what she was playing at. Louis was perfectly fine, there was no denying that. But no woman in her right mind would even try to get beyond his crippling shyness. It’d take an eternity just to ascertain if he was even remotely interested in you. And that was before you thought about scaring him away with a little light flirting. The whole thing was just too enormous a project. Even for an almost desperate girl like Kate. She decided to wait until she’d been on at least one more date, before she declared herself officially that close to the bottom of the barrel.

Chapter Twelve

“I’m not going to be a gooseberry, am I?” Kate was lying on her stomach with her head buried in her hands so that the glaring sun didn’t cause a constellation of freckles to erupt across her face. She and Mirri had found a quiet but sun-drenched glade in Regents Park and laid out their rug and picnic hamper in anticipation of Tony’s arrival.

“Of course you’re not gooseberry. I haven’t had sex with Tony for hundreds of years. He’s quite different now. Not at all irresponsible or sexy anymore.”

“Okay, but you know that I’ll happily make myself scarce if you want me to, don’t you?”

“Well, so will Tony and I if you want us to.” Mirri grinned slyly.

“You and Tony? Why would you?” Kate lifted her face from her hands and turned to Mirri, who was obscured by an enormous straw sun hat. She had the straps on her dress pulled down for a more even tan.

“Well, Tony said he might bring Felix with him.” As Mirri spoke, Kate had a dawning sense of something being up.

“I want Felix to be Tony’s dog but I have a nasty feeling that he isn’t going to be.” Kate instinctively began to smooth down her hair and sat up straight instead of slouching on the rug as if she were watching Friday-night TV alone with her sweats on. If they were expecting company, she had to be ready.

“You’re right, he’s not a dog. He’s Tony’s son.” Mirri refused to meet Kate’s nagging gaze.

“You’re setting me up and you didn’t warn me?” Kate said in slightly cross but hushed tones in case Tony and Son appeared from behind a hedge.

“I’m introducing you to a handsome young man. Don’t be so ungrateful.” Mirri waved her hand dismissively but not without a trace of guilt.

“I’d have put on some makeup at least if I’d known.”

“And you would have been stiff and formal and not pretty and freckly and relaxed as you really are.”

“I haven’t got freckles.” Kate was mortified.

“Have a drink and stop fussing.” Mirri handed Kate a glass of rosé and lay back on the grass. Kate scrubbed a finger beneath her eyes to make sure that she didn’t have ancient smudges of mascara lurking in the cracks.

“What does he look like?” Kate attempted to be nonchalant.

“I don’t know. He was very cute when he was six. I’m his godmother, apparently. Though I think he’s become a financier so I’m not sure how good I can have been at spiritual guidance.”

“Shit, Mirri. Does he know that he’s supposed to fancy me? What if he’s not remotely interested? Oh, God, you’re turning out to be the pushy mother I never had.”

“I prefer to think of myself more as a sister.” Mirri scowled and pulled her hat back over her face. Clearly Kate had hit a nerve and would have to suffer for it now.

Fortunately before Mirri’s sulk could set in irreversibly the sound of voices emerged from the bushes. A man in a khaki linen suit with snow-white hair and the palest blue eyes Kate had ever seen stepped forward. “Mirri, sweetheart, is that you under there?”

“Tony.” Mirri pulled off her hat and sat up. Without bothering to reinstate the straps on her dress she leapt to her feet and squeezed the life out of the man.

“Oh, look how handsome you are. I have not seen you for years and you are more, more beautiful than ever. And thank you so much for the flowers.” Mirri kissed him all over his face in a puppyish manner and he grinned wildly. “And is this Felix, my long-lost godson?” Everyone turned to check out Felix at the same moment and Kate knew that the second Mirri saw how remarkably good looking he was, she regretted being quite so generous in her introductions. She wouldn’t have minded an ungodly moment alone with her godson, that was for sure.

“I am,” he said in a halting French accent as both Kate and Mirri stared with practically open mouths at the suntanned young man with cropped black hair and his father’s slightly unnerving blue eyes.

“Très bien,”
Mirri said with a slow inhale as she leaned forward and hugged him. “And this”—she turned and gestured toward Kate—“is my good friend Kate.”

Kate climbed to her feet, straightened her skirt, and held out her hand with a lead-weight feeling in her heart. She may as well go home now and spare everyone the politeness and effort that would be involved in trying to get Kate and Felix together. Forget that she wasn’t his type; he wasn’t her type, either. Impossibly handsome, well educated, charming Frenchmen just weren’t her cup of tea. It was simply too taxing to even contemplate the paranoia and insecurities and wardrobe catastrophes and books she hadn’t read that would result from even a pint of beer in the pub with such a man.

“Hi there.” She smiled shyly, first at Tony, averting her eyes from Felix as if he were the sun.

“Hi there, sweetheart.” Tony shook her hand.

Before she could compose herself Felix said, “Pleased to meet you.” And held out his hand.

“Hello,” Kate replied, barely looking at him, until she caught sight of Mirri over his shoulder.

Mirri’s look was like a mirror telling her how lame and pathetic and self-pitying she was being. Mirri’s look despaired at how impossible it was for Kate to understand that the guy in front of her was just that—a guy.
Every woman,
Mirabelle Moncur was saying,
has something that a man wants.
Aside from the obvious, too. And though he may not necessarily want it for all time, he will certainly want it for the duration of an encounter, which is just fine. Every woman can have her scene in the movie. But in order to get a man to understand what he wants from her, a woman first has to know what it is she has to offer. Then, as she read this in Mirri’s look, in that brief moment, Kate was transformed. She forgot that she had a spot on her cheek and that her hair wasn’t washed and that there were a million things she’d change or obsess over given a chance, and instead she saw herself from another point of view. She knew that the sun would be shining in her eyes and making them the color of liquid amber; she knew that her freckles would make her nose look, if not perfect, then at least adorable; she imagined her creased skirt looking careless, as if she had better things to do than stay home doing the ironing. And as she glanced down and caught sight of her muddy knees from where she’d knelt in the grass earlier she hoped that instead of looking as though she’d been dragged through a plowed field behind a tractor, it might seem as though she’d been having a bit of fun in the plowed field.

She looked at Mirri for confirmation—yes, there she stood, the goddess—a model of imperfection, her hair was a veritable bird’s nest, her long peasant skirt was ripped on the hem, and one of her earrings missing. In short, she looked as though she’d just spent a very happy hour or six with Jonah Sinclair on the hammock. And she was fantastically sexy. Kate blinked and looked up at Felix.

“Nice to meet you.” She smiled. And it wasn’t the most scintillating line of all time, but Felix didn’t notice. He was too busy checking her out in that slightly hungry way that Frenchmen have.

“Right, well, who wants a drink?” Mirri clapped her hands together before anyone could linger and before Kate could collapse in an exhausted heap from the exertion of her epiphany. Because as selfish and wrapped up in herself as Mirri Moncur appeared to the world, she had observed precisely what had just happened to her protégée. And she was filled with pride, even if she was a bit peevish about the fact that Felix was so delicious looking that she wouldn’t have minded him for herself. She also wondered whether she hadn’t presented Kate with a challenge more on a par with an Everest than a Himalayan foothill, but still, she was sure that her young charge was up to the job.

“Oh, not for me, thanks, doll,” Tony demurred. “I’m pure.”

“Of course you are, that’s why I look like an old handbag and you don’t.” Mirri laughed, then translated for Kate from Tony’s sixties-speak: “He doesn’t drink or smoke or take drugs or any of the things I love.”

“I see,” Kate said. “Well, I’ll have some more rosé.”

“C’est parfait,”
Felix said. Mirri poured the drinks as everyone settled down onto the picnic rug. Kate tried not to be self-conscious and stopped herself from shuffling in the opposite direction when Felix stretched out his legs beside her. Anyway, with Mirri and Tony in one another’s orbit for the first time in years it soon became apparent that Felix and Kate weren’t going to have the monopoly on flirting.

“Oh, how can you say I didn’t do any of the things you like. I did a few things that you loved if you remember.” Tony looked at Mirri as if he wanted to eat her up while she handed him a glass of sparkling water.

“Papa, please, this is too much to deal with,” Felix said with a grin at his flirtatious father. But it was clear that Tony was another satisfied customer of the Mirri Moncur Academy of Mind-Blowing Sex. There was going to be nothing else for it but to ask Mirri for tips, Kate decided.
I mean, why look a gift horse in the mouth?

“So, Kate, tell me, what about you?” Felix asked in his absurdly cute broken English as Mirri and Tony drifted off on a tangent about the time they had accidentally boarded a brothel ship at the Cannes Film Festival.

“What
about
me?” Kate asked, ripping the crust off her sandwich in the hope that it might unlock some fascinating secret about herself, which she could then share with Felix. “Well, I met Mirri when she commissioned me to paint Bébé, her lion cub. I live at the bottom of the garden of the house where she’s staying and . . . well, that’s me,” she finished hastily. Kate hated rambling on aimlessly about herself. She was okay with a specific topic but that was just a bad question, she told herself.

“That is you? All of you?” Felix asked with a grin. Kate had never been informed that French men had senses of humor. It wasn’t in any of the guidebooks, that was for sure. But it made her a bit more relaxed than she would have been if he’d wanted to discuss Baudelaire.

“Yes, I don’t think there’s anything more to me,” Kate said with a straight face.

“I think you are lying.” Felix looked at her defiantly. “I think there is an awful lot to you, Kate.” Ah, this was more like it. The textbook Frenchman with the intense gaze and cheeseball lines. Kate couldn’t help but smile.

“If you mean my enormous bottom, then fine. But I’m never going to agree with you,” Kate said. “I never admit my faults to strangers.” With which she took another bite of her sandwich. She couldn’t bear to be stuck in this ridiculous conversation where she was supposed to be getting seduced. It just wasn’t her style. She saw him draw breath, about to deliver another line, and suddenly felt compelled to stop him. “And if you’re about to tell me that I’m perfect and that I have no faults, then . . . well, then I’ll have to put my sandwich crusts up your nose.”

Felix’s brown eyes blinked uncomprehendingly, and at the same moment Mirri and Tony’s conversation came to an abrupt halt. Everyone was looking at Kate, and her ridiculous comment hung in the air. Mirri looked puzzled by her protégée, as did Felix.

She relented. “I’m sorry, Felix. I was just joking, and, really, I’m sure you weren’t going to tell me I was perfect. In fact, I’m positive of it. And I wasn’t really going to put anything up your nose.” Kate stumbled at their bewildered expressions, until there was a huge snort.

“Bloody hell, you two, anyone would think someone had died.” Tony snorted again. It was obviously his laugh. “Quite right, too, love. The boy’s just used to chatting up dolly birds who fall for that crap. This one’s not a supermodel, Felix. She’s a normal bird who likes a laugh.” Tony patted Kate on the back. Oh, how right he was. She wasn’t a supermodel. She was Kate and the French didn’t find her funny.

“Ah, I see. This is funny?” Mirri asked.

“I suppose you’re right,” Felix said, and pondered the so-called joke that Kate now wished she’d never made as if it were a medieval text. Or a supermodel’s vital statistics. Then he began to giggle in a snorty way, like his father. Which made him much more charming than his perfect looks.

“Kate, you are right. I was going to be . . . how you say? Smooth?”

“Smooth is great. But the thing is, I don’t really believe in it.” Kate tried to look kind and not like a lunatic. “Though I think I would if I were a supermodel.” She shrugged.

“Felix, you like the models?” Mirri asked.

“Sometimes. But I like the normal women, too.” He looked at Kate with admiration.

“He’s a bit of a playboy,” Tony said. “Gets it from his mother. She knows all these princes and geezers with yachts and I don’t mind just as long as they’ve got somewhere on board I can do me yoga.”

“I like to race speedboats and I like to ski and I am often in beautiful places. But I am not a playboy,” Felix informed his father.

“In my day that’s exactly what you’d have been.” Tony took a bite of a sandwich. “This bread organic, Mirri, love?”

“It’s bread,” Mirri said. “And I think that we will go for a walk. I have the pain in my legs.”

“ ’Cause you don’t do any exercise, isn’t it?” Tony told her.

“I don’t really care why it is. I just want to see the ducks,” Mirri said sternly. Tony cottoned on fairly quickly that they were supposed to leave Felix and Kate alone. “Yeah, right. The ducks. You’re not going to shoot them, though, are you? Because I know you like duck à l’orange, but those birds there aren’t ducks. They’re swans. And they belong to the queen.” He stood up and pulled Mirri to her feet.