The Party Girl's Invitation (21 page)

Lolly, that was it. Her name was Olivia. Pretty little thing, too, with beautiful, soft, chocolatey brown eyes and a submissive disposition, exactly what he needed right now. Phil held out an arm, welcoming Olivia to walk on over, and step right in.

Lolly’s lip trembled. “Is it true? Is it?” she pleaded, trusting brown eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Phil moved to take Lolly into his arms, jerking his head at the door for Crystal’s benefit. He didn’t need an audience for this one. “Yes, darling. Of course it is. Come on, over here with me and I’ll explain everything. How clever of you to find me, today. I would have remembered you, you know,” he lied.“I’d have come to find you, later in the day.”

Crystal watched him shepherd Olivia off towards his bedroom. Lolly was over twenty-one, she supposed, and she had other things to think about now. Like Jazz. What kind of mood would he be in, when she did track him down? She had to explain.

Chapter15

One More Headline

Jazz was most definitely not in an amenable mood. He’d already had a blazing row over the telephone with that scumbag Bertie and he was currently trying to work out where he’d thrown his car keys when he’d come in first thing this morning. He’d been so irate that it was a wonder he’d made it home in one piece at all. His poor mistreated car already bore the scars of his run in with the gatepost. Today was really not going according to plan.

Now, as he stared out of the front room window, he could see Crystal struggling along his driveway, unsuitably dressed as ever and dragging a large holdall. Not now. Not now. He couldn’t deal with Crystal right at this minute. His lips thinned in an uncompromising line. Most people would have more sense, than to braid the lion in his den, especially after the scene that he’d witnessed today.

Not Crystal. She needed to speak to Jazz, and if he wouldn’t hold a conversation with her over the telephone, then she would camp out on his doorstep until he left the house. He couldn’t stay locked up in there forever. He had to come out sometime, and when he did, she’d be ready. She needed to talk to him and she wasn’t going home until she had. The bag she was dragging behind her, was the same carpet bag that she’d brought with her, when she fled the flat in LA, a mere two weeks ago.

She struggled to heft it over a particularly large and impossible pothole, tugging furiously at the handles on the bag as one end disappeared completely into the murky depths of the cavernous crater. As she struggled with the bag, her highly unsuitable and mistreated footwear finally gave up the unequal struggle. The heel on her favourite Manolos snapped clean off.

With a howl of frustration Crystal dropped the bag where it stood and surveyed her feet. These shoes had brought her from London to LA and back home again. She wasn’t ready to part company with them, just yet. She kicked off the broken shoe and inspected the damage. The heel unit wobbled precariously, held on by one narrow loose thread. They were history now, and no mistake.

She squared her shoulders, and looked at the cottage standing solid and square at the end of the drive. Shoes, even favourite ones, could always be replaced. People couldn’t. That was why she was here, after all.

Now that she’d finally met with Saskia and told her that there was no going back, then handed Phil over to Lolly and wished them both luck, she had no reason to stay in these parts. Her time here was done. The Hunt Ball was over and the bank still hadn’t got around to handling her application for a loan. There was nothing to tie her here, to this place, any more. Except Jazz. She wasn’t even sure that he wanted her, either. The press had probably given up watching her flat by now, and there was no story there any more, after last night. She could always go back to London, make a clean start. Her heart shrivelled, she didn’t want to consider that one just now.

Crystal limped the final distance, along the snow covered shingle and up the steps to the heavy front door. She tried the handle, and to her surprise the door opened easily. Jazz was home and he’d not locked her out as she’d suspected he might. She hopped over the threshold and dragged her bag in behind her, she hoped that he was in a more receptive mood, now the dust had been given time to settle.

“Leaving so soon?” he drawled, as she struggled in through the door. “Lover-boy waiting for you, at the end of the lane, is he? Don’t tell me the worthless toad left you to face me alone. He’s not really the supportive type, is he Crystal? Makes me wonder exactly what you see in him. Or are the losers more your type?”

Before she could reply, he continued. “Just for your info, I’ve paid a King’s ransom for the photos of him cavorting around in the flower bed with your cousin last night. Consider it my gift to you both. He doesn’t deserve you, Crystal. You’ve sold yourself cheap.”

Crystal watched the muscle working, high up on his cheekbone. He was struggling to hold his temper. He thought she’d reconciled with Phil, and she could see why he might have jumped to that conclusion, but she had her pride too.

“No Jazz, it’s you who has sold himself cheap. All I had to do was drop my knickers last night, and you obliged. You’re no different than the rest of them, Lolly and Phil included, so don’t come the moral high ground with me.”

His eyes darkened and she thought he gritted his teeth just a little bit harder.

“For the record, I’m off back to London on the three o’clock train. There’s nothing to keep me here now. And you wasted your money. I don’t care who Phil sleeps with, and I certainly wish Lolly well of him. Who knows, he might just manage to keep his hands off other women long enough to make her happy. She knows he’s married, I made sure of that. Stupid girl wants him anyway, I can’t imagine why.”

The worm. He’d dropped her for her cousin? Jazz felt mad outrage on Crystal’s behalf. How could the idiot man be so blind? His stomach twisted itself in knots as he fought to stay rational and calm. Had she run back here to him, now her lover didn’t want her anymore? Was he really second best? He tried to fit the pieces together, and failed.

No, that wasn’t right, she didn’t look cowed and despondent. Her chin was up, defiantly, she looked feisty and hot, not in the least bit humble and destroyed. He scrutinised her face carefully, pale and tear streaked, yes. Just like the first day he met her, on that train, a lifetime ago. This time she was also insolent and angry. Furious, even. With him?

She tossed her hair over her shoulder, haughtily. Boy men were thick. What did she have to do to convince him, that she was here for him and no one else? Any moment now she’d stamp her foot with frustration, he was driving her way beyond the normal bounds of reason. Couldn’t he see that she’d come here today to make amends? She was about to attempt to spell it out in words of one syllable, when comprehension finally dawned on his face.

“You’ve left him for me, haven’t you Tatty? Tell me he’s yesterday’s news,” he insisted, hoarsely. He hoped he was right. He couldn’t take much more of this. He’d been from euphoria to despair in the past few hours, and now he was a desperate victim of hope. Shreds and tatters, that was precisely where he was now.

Crystal breached the gap between them on knees that wobbled precariously, she wasn’t sure her legs would support her. “Yes Jazz, I have. There was no competition. He was never even in the running. I was yours last night, body and soul,” she declared vehemently, as she reached up on tiptoe and placed her lips to his.

As Jazz kissed her back, thoroughly and completely, no holds barred, she realised that there would be time later, to go through the finer details. She’d tell him the whole story, herself, just once. Heaven knew what kind of interpretation he’d already put on the information he’d garnered from the gutter press dailies. She really should have straightened this all out, days ago. She wondered if he might swap the photos of Phil and Lolly for the ones of her brother and Saskia. Jeremy might need a bit of support, once he sobered up and realised just what he’d done.

Reg said he’d evicted the press guy in the early hours of the morning, but he’d not been able to get his hands on the film. It was just as Reg had said, with a publican’s
laissez faire
view of the world. Where one twin went, the other always followed.

Stupid boy would be headline news tomorrow. Unless his twin sister intervened?