The Rebound Guy (13 page)

They rode on the subway. Not because it was essential to get to their next destination. Just because.

And they finished the afternoon off at the Children's Centre in the public library, staring at the teddy bear inside a glass case that had been the inspiration for Winnie-the-Pooh, along with his battered and only-just-surviving friends. Because her boys might like to hear about it, Jason had said, but he knew the way to the little half-glazed room that housed the display without asking for directions and he smiled at the contents of the case with affection.

‘These were favourites of yours, weren't they?' she asked him.

Jason nodded. ‘One of the few things my father used to do with Brad and me was take us to the library. We'd always make a beeline for this case before we ran off to choose our books.' He shook his head, still staring hard at the tiny moth-eaten Piglet, who was smiling cheerfully back at him. ‘I haven't been here for years....'

That was when Kelly realised what a lot of the destinations on Jason's eclectic list had been about—he hadn't just been showing her interesting and unspoilt areas of his hometown, he'd been showing her
his
New York. The places that held memories for him, even places that held long-denied connections with his family.

That brought a lump to her throat. And an odd ray of hope to her heart.

Maybe. Maybe they could do this. Maybe it wasn't a disaster waiting to happen.

And she so wanted to believe that was true. She didn't want this time in New York to be just a fairy tale. And she didn't want it to end with the cold, grey reality of a London morning as they landed back at Heathrow. Because she wanted to believe there'd been enough of those grey clouds in her past to guarantee she wouldn't meet them again in her future.

She'd paid enough, hadn't she? Surely she could expect some happiness in return.

* * *

Jason would never admit to having a case of nerves, but that was what hit him at twenty-five past ten the following morning, just as he and Kelly approached McGrath's chosen meeting spot—a busy diner just off 47th and Broadway.

Just before they walked in the door, Kelly tugged on his hand and pulled him to a stop. ‘You look like you're about to poop yourself.'

Jason blinked. There was nothing like the cold, hard truth for making a man feel better.

‘But that's what we want,' she added, straightening his tie then kissing the tip of his nose. ‘That means it's getting to you. And if it's getting to you, you're good to go.'

He frowned. He was sure there was some kind of backhanded encouragement in there somewhere, but in his current state of agitation he wasn't sure how to dig it out.

‘And I'll be there as your wingman.' She smiled brightly at him.

‘That's what I'm afraid of,' he muttered as he turned and headed inside.

McGrath and his driver-slash-security guy were sitting in a booth at the back. A waitress led them over to his table. Kelly instantly beamed at the man and accepted his kiss on the cheek with a smile, but Jason felt his bones crunch when McGrath turned his attention to him and shook his hand.
You're not off the hook yet,
the handshake said.
One false move and you're toast.

Jason's first reaction was to grin and pretend nothing had happened, but he stopped himself. Instead, he squeezed back, not to the bone-fracturing degree of his prospective business associate, but enough to say,
Game on. I'm ready.
To his surprise McGrath nodded and smiled when Jason pulled his hand away and flexed it subtly.

The waitress returned, handed them menus and poured coffee. For some reason Jason was ravenous.

‘We'll talk shoes once we've ordered,' McGrath said.

Jason nodded. ‘Fine by me.'

McGrath turned his attention to Kelly. ‘This your first time in New York?'

She nodded enthusiastically. Jason knew that, in books and songs, writers described people as ‘lighting up', but he'd never really believed it was anything more than a pretty turn of phrase. But somehow, when Kelly started telling McGrath about the day they'd had yesterday, she did it. He couldn't take his eyes off her.

When the waitress came back to take their orders, she fell quiet and scoured the menu. McGrath seemed to pay unusual attention to what Jason ordered—a ton of meat with a couple of fried eggs thrown in for good measure.

When the waitress had disappeared again, he looked at Jason. ‘Good choice,' he said. ‘You can tell a lot about a man by the way he has his eggs. If you'd have ordered one of those egg-white omelettes, you'd have been outta here.'

He must have made a face at the idea of omelettes with no yolks because McGrath almost,
almost
, cracked a smile.

‘You've got your ten minutes,' he said. ‘Go.'

So Jason went. He told McGrath about the flash of an idea he'd come up with when he'd been investigating the market, how he'd pulled together a team of designers to see if it could be done and how they'd spent the last couple of years making it work. No frills. No fuss. No BS.

He got his ten minutes. And more.

As he finished speaking, Kelly leaned across a little and squeezed his knee. McGrath was less demonstrative, but he wore a smile behind his stony expression.

‘I like the idea,' he said. ‘I like being in on something from the ground floor. And I like the idea that I'd be first to wear them.' He offered his hand to Jason. ‘These Mercuries better be as good as you say they are, Mr Knight, because I'm looking forward to trying a pair on and giving them a road test. If I still like them after that, you've got yourself a deal.'

Jason managed not to pick McGrath up off his feet and spin him round. Just.

He saved it for when he and Kelly were clear of the diner and heading out back towards Broadway. Then he gently let her down again and kissed her as if his life depended on it. Maybe it did. Because he couldn't remember kissing being this phenomenal before. Perhaps because with each touch and taste he was giving, not just taking; he was speaking the truth instead of just making his next move.

He broke away and ignored the raised eyebrows of a few passers-by. ‘I want to see more of you when we're back in London,' he blurted out. ‘And not just for a couple of dates—that won't be enough...'

Kelly stared back at him. He couldn't tell if she was terrified or overjoyed at his words. And, seeing as he hadn't exactly planned on saying them, he felt pretty much the same way.

He took a breath then dipped his head so it was closer to hers and spoke softly. ‘What I'm trying to say is that I want a relationship. With you.'

She was still frozen and staring, which wasn't helping the thudding in his ears. And yet his mouth just kept on moving, saying all sorts of things he was completely unprepared for. ‘I...
care
about you, Kelly.'

She lurched forward and kissed him so thoroughly he almost forgot what he'd just said, then she pulled away, shaking her head and laughing. ‘Then heaven help us both because the same kind of crazy is creeping up on me too.'

They kissed again, this time softer, slower. The sounds of the city around them melted away.

‘I can't believe this is real,' she whispered when they pulled apart. ‘I didn't think...'

‘Me neither,' he said. ‘But I want to try.'

She bit her lip and nodded. ‘I do too, Jason, but I'm scared. Really scared.'

The look of pain on her face, even as she smiled sweetly at him, was almost enough to rip him in two. He pulled her close and held her tight. ‘I know,' he mumbled into her hair. ‘Just give me a chance. I promise I will do my absolute best to be the man you deserve.'

She pulled back and looked at him, studied his face as if all the answers she ever wanted to find might be written there, then after a long minute she nodded. ‘Okay,' she said. ‘Stuff it. You only live once.'

‘Stuff it?' he said, raising his eyebrows. ‘Nice. I'm feeling very wanted now....'

She punched him on the arm. ‘Shut up and kiss me again,' she commanded him. ‘And then you can take me somewhere nice for a late lunch before our flight. Somewhere
really
nice. I think I'm worth it.'

He punched her back. Gently.

But she was. She totally was.

* * *

Kelly sang to herself softly as she reached for a bottle and squeezed a good-sized dollop of the hotel's expensive-smelling shower gel into her palm. Warm water hit the back of her head and cascaded down her body in rivulets. She took her time washing. The grime of this city—wonderful as it was—could not be underestimated, and she wanted to smell and look and feel her best for Jason this afternoon. They only had a few hours left now before they headed back to the airport and she was determined to make the most of them.

The shower gel smelled heavenly and her skin was feeling softer already. She worked her way up her legs and then higher, but when she reached her upper torso, she stopped. Her hand remained frozen on her left breast and the water continued to drum on her upper back.

She couldn't move. She couldn't speak. All she could do was stare at the wall, notice the exact width of the grout between the marble tiles.

She closed her eyes and moved her hand over the breast again, slower this time. Firmer. Concentrating on exactly what she could feel under the surface of the skin.

No. Oh, God, no.

THIRTEEN

Jason checked his
watch. Kelly had gone for a shower more than forty-five minutes ago. He strolled over to her door and listened for running water, but everything was silent. He stood there for a few moments more, but he couldn't even hear her moving around inside.

He knocked gently. ‘Kelly?'

Still no sound. He knocked again. ‘Are you okay in there?'

His pulse began to skip. Slowly he turned the door handle and pushed the door open. He didn't have to walk more than a couple of feet into the room to find Kelly, still wrapped in a towel, sitting on the end of the bed and staring blankly at the sheer curtain that covered the window.

‘What's wrong?' he asked softly.

She didn't react at all as he moved closer and he began to get scared. He'd never seen her like this before. Where was all the life, the movement? Where was all that
glow
that had captivated him not more than a couple of hours ago?

As he neared her she blinked, shook her head slightly and then looked drowsily at him.

‘Kelly, are you sick?'

She blinked again then frowned as she processed his very simple question. ‘Maybe... I mean, I'm not...' She paused and cleared her throat. ‘Can we just stay here until it's time to leave for the airport?'

He nodded. ‘I'll have lunch brought up.'

‘Yeah, whatever....' She went back to staring at the window.

Jason's first instinct was to get out of the room. But he made himself stop and look at her again. ‘Do you need anything?'

She shook her head.

‘Would you rather be left on your own?' She certainly didn't seem to be affected by his presence one way or the other, and someone needed to call room service.

‘I think so...'

He'd go then. But not for long. He'd check on her again shortly.

Knowing Kelly's passion for experiencing authentic American cuisine, he ordered a couple of burgers and the hotel's famous salad from the menu. Then he went to pack his suitcase while he waited for the food to arrive. Once he'd tipped the waiter, he knocked on her door again.

She was dressed this time, in casual clothes for the flight back, and she'd moved from the end of the bed and was curled up, clutching a pillow. Her open—empty—suitcase sat on the floor. He walked over and sat down on the mattress next to her. ‘It's ready.'

She looked up at him. ‘I'll have mine in here.'

He shrugged and stood up. ‘Okay...I'll wheel the trolley in. We can picnic.'

She sat up suddenly. ‘No.'

Jason froze.

She seemed to realise she'd spoken rather sharply. ‘I mean...I'd rather be on my own.'

Now, Jason was used to being on the frosty end of some people's behaviour, and often for good reason, but he couldn't think of one thing he'd done to upset Kelly since they'd got back to the hotel—heck, he'd hardly seen her—and this attitude she was giving him was really starting to tick him off. At least, that was one reason he was starting to feel so agitated. The other was that she was scaring the crap out of him.

He stepped forward again and spoke to her in a firm tone. ‘Kelly? Look at me.'

She did. There was a look of shock on her features, as if she couldn't quite believe how she was behaving either.

‘You need to tell me what's up.'

Her jaw clenched and she glared at him. He could feel the warmth of her anger radiating out towards him, making his skin prickle. Good. It was better than the lifeless zombie act she'd been pulling.

‘Tell me!'

‘Okay.' Her voice was tight, defiant. ‘But don't blame me if you don't want to hear it.'

‘I don't care what it is,' he told her. ‘I'm ready.'

Let her tell him it had all been a terrible mistake. Let her tell him she'd rather shoot herself than go out with him once they got back to London. He really didn't care. He just wanted
something
from her.

She scooted further away from him and sat up straight, her back rigid against the headboard. ‘I found...' her lip began to wobble ‘...a lump.'

He frowned. A lump? What kind of lump? On her head? Because that would certainly explain this crazy behaviour.

Her hand flew to her left breast. ‘Here...'

That was when the grenade exploded inside Jason's head, when everything he thought he'd known about terror was put into sharp perspective. Suddenly, curling into a ball and pretending to be comatose didn't seem quite so crazy after all.

‘Wh...? How...?' He couldn't quite manage to get a sentence out. He stood up and backed away, as if by creating distance he could somehow make the truth of what she'd said smaller and less significant.

‘But it could be nothing,' he almost whispered. ‘Right?'

She nodded, but she didn't look any happier. ‘It also could be
something
. I can't ignore that.'

And neither could he.

* * *

Kelly lay on her flattened-out business-class seat with a thin duvet clutched around her. The cabin wall was only inches from her nose and it was all blurry, but she couldn't be bothered to bring it back into focus. Going cross-eyed looking at the wall, maybe even pretending, just a little bit, to be asleep, was much better than making polite conversation with Jason for the next few hours.

Thankfully, the lateness of their flight meant that the cabin lights were off and many passengers were dozing with their eye masks on. Those who were awake were glued to soundless personal TV screens spewing colourful images.

He was saying all the right things, doing all the right things, being attentive and thoughtful. But she just couldn't face him anymore. That was only a thin veil, and behind the veil was the fear. She could see it as clearly as she could see the tiny white flecks in his warm blue irises.

And she knew all about fear. Knew it wasn't logical or tame. Knew it sprung from somewhere deep inside that couldn't be controlled by conscious thought. This kind of fear was a reflex. Fight or flight.

She knew what she'd chosen—fight. She had to.

But she also knew Jason's ingrained reaction lay down the other path.

And that was what she really couldn't face. It was breaking her heart.

* * *

Jason picked up Kelly's case from the baggage carousel and dumped it onto the waiting trolley. The flight in had been strange. Kelly had flattened her seat out once the seat-belt sign had gone off and just laid there for an hour. Then she'd sat up and seemed more normal.
Seemed
more normal.

She'd eaten a meal, watched a movie, slept a little. She'd even said a handful of sentences to him. Bland, functional words, sure, but at least she'd left the catatonic state behind. She seemed to be calm and together. Dealing with things.

Maybe she was.

Or maybe she was freaking out inside and this was the only way to cope. He knew that was what he was doing. The urge to just pretend it was all a bad dream was becoming almost irresistible.

So he gave her room, let her have the thinking space she needed. She'd bounce back sooner or later, wouldn't she? She'd start fighting, the way she'd said she would. And it wasn't until Jason watched her walking, poker straight, in front of the trolley that he realised how much he needed her to do that.

As they went through the doors to the arrivals hall he called out to her, ‘I've got a car waiting.'

But at the same moment he saw her lift her hand and wave half-heartedly at someone on the other side of the barrier. An unreasonable and scorching jealousy poker seared through him, thinking it might be her ex-husband. But he saw an attractive blonde rush towards her and a tall guy scowling at him. The expression on his face was completely familiar to Jason; there was no doubt that this man was her brother and he seemed to be holding Jason personally responsible for something.

His jaw tightened and he met the man's gaze. For once in his life, he'd been anything
but
trouble to a woman. You'd think he'd get some kudos for that, at least.

Kelly looked over her shoulder at him. ‘Thanks, but I arranged transport.' And then she looked away again.

Transport. Was that all he was now?
Transport?
He pushed the trolley faster to catch up with her.

‘Kelly!'

She stopped walking, paused for a moment, then faced him. For the first time since she'd zoned out on the plane there was emotion in her expression. Her eyes glimmered and when she spoke it was a hoarse whisper. ‘Jason, I...' She shook her head. ‘Please...I'll see you on Monday.' And then she stepped in close and softly kissed his cheek before turning away and heading into the arms of the blonde for a long hug.

The brother came and retrieved her case from the trolley, still keeping a beady eye on Jason, and then he was left standing there on his own, people from the next flight streaming around him as he watched them leave the terminal.

* * *

‘How are you holding up?'

Kelly took a moment before she responded to her sister-in-law. She'd been listening to the drumming of the rain on their conservatory roof and it had momentarily helped her to zone out.

‘As well as can be expected,' she told Chloe. ‘Seeing as I've got another week before I can attend the clinic for tests.' She reached over the kitchen table and squeezed her sister-in-law's hand. ‘Thanks for inviting me for lunch.'

Chloe smiled. ‘You know you and the boys are always welcome, and I love any excuse to cook a huge Sunday roast...'

Kelly frowned. ‘It sounds as if there's a
but
missing at the end of that sentence.'

The smile faded from Chloe's face. ‘I suppose I wasn't sure you'd come, although I'm glad you did.'

Kelly couldn't help laughing. ‘Why wouldn't I come? I didn't have to cook and you saved me from being cooped up indoors in this horrendous, supposed-to-be-summer weather with the boys bouncing off the walls.' Her expression grew more serious and she swallowed. ‘I'd have ended up getting fractious and shouting at them, and they really don't deserve that.'

‘No...' Chloe agreed. ‘I'm just glad you're letting me and Dan help, in whatever small way we can, that's all.'

Kelly's eyebrows hitched. ‘Are you saying I'm normally some antisocial grouch who won't even accept free food when it's on offer?'

Chloe shook her head. ‘Don't be daft. I just meant that sometimes you put up some pretty thick walls.'

‘Last week you told me I'm the most open person you know.'

Chloe stood up and went to check on the dinner. She opened the oven door and a waft of chickeny steam escaped. Moments later it hit Kelly in the nostrils and her stomach contracted in hunger.

‘It's not the same thing and you know it.' She gave Kelly a hard stare as she looped the oven gloves back over the handle on the door. ‘There's a difference between saying the first thing that comes into your head and being...guarded.'

‘I'm not guarded,' Kelly said quietly. At least, she wasn't anymore. She felt as if all those thick walls Chloe had accused her of having had crumbled into ash. She kept trying to gather them to herself, find some kind of refuge in them, but they disintegrated under her touch.

She shook her head and a single tear slid down her cheek. ‘I'm scared, Chloe. And I'm doing my best not to be, but I don't know if I can do it all again!'

Chloe rushed over and put her arm round her. ‘It could be nothing... You said that yourself.'

Kelly nodded. Yes, she knew what she'd said. But wishing wouldn't make it true.

‘But if it isn't...'

‘You can't think like that!'

Chloe sounded almost angry. Kelly wished she could summon up some of that fire herself. She needed it. For so long she'd lived with it burning away inside her and now, when it could really do some good, it had flickered out and died.

‘I know, I know....'

At that moment, her three-year-old came running into the room. He made a beeline for Kelly and launched himself at her. She hauled him into her lap and hugged him tight. He hid his face in her shoulder and only peeked out again when Dan came storming into the room. She hauled in some oxygen. She couldn't be weak now, she couldn't. She'd have to find that fire from somewhere. Find that fight.

And she could only think of one way to do that. Only one area of her life had changed.... Her boys needed her to be strong and she wouldn't let them down.

She smoothed back Ben's hair and kissed his forehead, made herself look and sound like the mother he recognised.

Dan brandished a red felt-tip pen. ‘I just found him with this,' he told them, ‘and a guilty look on his face.'

Kelly's insides dived and she looked down at her son. He'd been drawing on the wall? Again?

‘You'd just better hope I got to him before he went all Picasso on us,' Dan said. ‘I'm going to check the downstairs cloakroom, seeing as that was the location of his last masterpiece.' He stomped from the room.

Kelly shot Chloe an apologetic look, but held her son tighter. She knew she was supposed to discipline him at this moment, but now she was hugging him she couldn't seem to stop. ‘I'll repair the damage, if there is any.'

Chloe just looked heavenwards and let out a breath. ‘Ignore my husband. He knows perfectly well we repainted with washable paint and that pen will probably come off with a bit of elbow grease and a damp cloth.'

‘Ben?' Her son looked up at her with unblinking, innocent eyes. Kelly stared back at him. She knew that look. He was going to be in big trouble when his uncle found where he'd decided to explore his artistic skills. She picked him up and set him on the floor, even though he tried to cling to her. ‘You'd better go and show Uncle Dan where you did the drawing.'

Ben bit his lip and shook his head.