Rumor Has It (16 page)

    'No need.' Denzil's chins wobbled as he shook his head. 'You don't have any dialogue.'

    Kaye looked steadily at him, her all-too-brief acting career flash ing before her eyes. 'Let me guess. Am I going to be floating face down in a swimming pool?'

    He couldn't even bring himself to meet her gaze. His tone abrupt, Denzil said, 'Something like that.'

'NO THANKS. JUST WATER for me.' Tilly was going to hang on to her faculties tonight if it killed her.

    Jack said, 'Hey, the whole point of getting a taxi here was so we didn't have to worry about driving home. We can relax, have a few drinks, and enjoy ourselves.'

    'You don't say.' Honestly, did he think she wasn't aware of that? It was exactly why she was sticking to water.

    'One glass of wine wouldn't hurt, would it?'

    A glass of wine would be heaven but she wasn't risking it. Tilly said perkily, 'I don't need alcohol to enjoy myself.'

    Yes,
perkily.

    'Bloody hell, I've brought Pollyanna along to the ball.' But he was clearly amused by her attitude; grinning at the waiter with the wine bottle, Jack confided, 'She's scared I'll seduce her.'

    The waiter in turn pulled a Graham Norton type face and stage whispered in Tilly's ear, 'Go for it, darling. Lucky old you.'

    Which was a great help.

    'I'm not going to,' said Jack. 'I gave my word I wouldn't. And I always keep my promises.'

    'Don't worry.' The waiter winked at Tilly. 'I'm sure you can persuade him to change his mind.'

    Just the thought of it made her go hot. Tilly grabbed a glass of sparkling water from a passing waitress and gulped it down. Glad of the reprieve as the young waiter minced off and Jack was collared by a couple of florid businessmen, she stood back and surveyed the scene.

    The ball was being held at a huge wedding cake of a hotel in Cheltenham; the ballroom was glamorous, vast, and high-ceilinged, and thronged with people chatting and dancing along to the band. The noise level was impressive and the ages of the guests ranged from twenty upwards; it wasn't, as Tilly had feared, confined to a scrum of oldies with clacking false teeth and walking sticks. It was a colorful, friendly crowd and Jack knew a great many of them. He was also, despite the fact that she wasn't drinking, becoming more attractive by the minute.

    OK, stop that, must behave. She wasn't anybody's notch…

    'Oh, don't you look lovely in that dress!' An older woman re splendent in purple silk came swishing up. 'I've been meaning to come over and say hello! Dorothy Summerskill, from the commit tee,' she introduced herself. 'And you're Jack's girlfriend.'

    'Friend,' said Tilly. 'We're just friends.'

    'Oh, right! Probably safer that way!' Dorothy had a jolly laugh. 'Hard to keep up with Jack's social life these days. Then again, who'd begrudge him some fun? We all love him to bits, you know. He's done so much for our charity. One of our greatest supporters here in Cheltenham.'

    'Is that because a member of his family had Alzheimer's?'

    'Actually, it was through Rose, his fiancée. Darling Rose, we miss her still. Her grandmother was affected, which is how Rose got involved with fundraising for the society. After she died, I have to tell you, we didn't think we'd see Jack again. But he's stayed on board. Wonderful for us. And hopefully we'll see you again after tonight.' Dorothy's eyes sparkled. 'Any friend of Jack's is a friend of ours.'

    After dinner, the dancing began in earnest. Having been intro duced to plenty more people, Tilly spent the next couple of hours being twirled around the dance floor by them, with varying degrees of success. Dorothy's husband Harold was an enthusiastic amateur mountaineer and danced just like one. A cheerful accountant called Mervyn had a gurgling laugh and a penchant for knock-knock jokes. Patrick the farmer looked like an all-in wrestler but danced like Fred Astaire. And their wives and girlfriends were fun too. Great, uncom plicated company. Barely even aware that she still wasn't drinking, Tilly was having a whale of a time.

    Then Jack had to come along and spoil it all.

    Exhausted after a couple of energetic tangos with Patrick, she was perching on the edge of a table giving her feet a rest when she saw Jack heading towards her.

    'What?' said Tilly, because he was checking his watch. 'Is it time to go?' Her heart sank. It was only midnight. They didn't have to leave yet, surely.

    'Not unless you want to. Why?' He tilted his head. 'Are you hating every minute?'

    'No.' She could smell his aftershave.

    'Good. Actually, I was thinking it was time we had a dance.' He paused, watching her reaction. 'Sorry. It's just that people might think it a bit odd if we don't.' Another pause. 'So how about it? Shall we do it now, get it out of the way?'

    'OK.' He was right. Reluctantly, she slid down from the table.

    'It's not the gallows,' said Jack. 'Don't worry, I'll behave myself. Perfect gentleman tonight, just like I promised.' Grinning, he drew her to him as the music restarted. One warm hand rested on her bare shoulder, the other just touched the base of her spine. Then he swung her skillfully out on to the dance floor. The next moment the hand on her spine was all over her bottom and he was pawing like a wild animal at her skirt.

    'What are you
doing
?' Horrified, Tilly slapped his arm and wrenched herself free.

    'Sorry, your dress was caught up at the back. I was trying to pull the hem down before everyone saw your knickers.'

    For heaven's sake, as if dancing with Jack Lucas wasn't palpitation inducing enough. Now she'd given a couple of hundred people a free flash of her panties.

    Oh well, too late now to worry about it. And at least they'd been her best ones.

    'Thanks.' Exhaling, she allowed him to resume physical contact. Right, just relax, move in time with the music, and keep on moving in time with the music until it ends. Then that's it, job done. And how long would it take, anyway? Three or four minutes, she could manage that. If the going got tough she could break it down, get through one minute at a time, maybe even do it in seconds…

    OK, one… two… three…

    'Are you
counting
?'

    'What? Oh, sorry.' Tilly ducked her head, tinglingly aware of the fact that most of the front of her body was touching most of the front of his. The third button of his white evening shirt was exactly level with the neckline of her shell-pink strapless evening dress. His aftershave smelled better than ever; if she completely lost control of herself and reached up on tiptoe, she could lick his neck… OK, stop that, start counting again, but this time keep it in your head.

    'Having fun?' said Jack.

    She nodded; he had absolutely no idea how dancing with him was making her feel. 'Everyone's really friendly.'

    'They're a good crowd.'

    Forcing herself to look into his eyes, because avoiding them was starting to look odd, Tilly said, 'Dorothy was saying nice things about you.'

    'Could be because I'm a nice person. Every now and again,' Jack amended with a brief smile. 'When I want to be.'

    That smile. At such close quarters it was even more devastat ing. He was making it hard to concentrate. Tilly closed her eyes for a second and thought about Amy and Marianne and whatever the other one's name had been… Lisa, that was it. Because that was the thing about Jack: He bestowed his smiles indiscriminately and left a trail of havoc in his wake. He wasn't remotely interested in any kind of meaningful relationship either. All he cared about was sex. Remember that. And
keep right on remembering it…

    'What are you thinking?' His voice broke into her feverish, tangled thoughts.

    'Nothing.'

    He grinned. 'That means I don't want to know.'

    Tilly shrugged and hoped her palms weren't growing damp. She could feel his hips against hers and if that wasn't disconcerting she didn't know what was. And she couldn't
believe
she was wondering if, while he'd been tugging her hooked-up dress over her bottom, he'd happened to notice how silky and nice her gorgeous new pink and cream knickers from La Senza had felt.

    'OK, you can stop now,' murmured Jack.

    For a second she thought he meant she could stop wondering if he'd appreciated her knickers. Then she realized the music had ended and she was still swaying from side to side. Collecting herself, Tilly said hastily, 'I thought they'd launch straight into the next song. I was just… you know, keeping the momentum going.'

    'You want to stay for another dance?' As he moved his hands to her waist, the music started up again.

    Now that they were out here on the dance floor it made sense. 'Well…'

    'We've done our duty, haven't we?' Jack released his hold on her, disappointing all her nerve endings at once. 'Why don't we go and get another drink instead?'

Jack had promised to treat her like a lady and behave like a perfect gentleman but Tilly hadn't actually expected him to do it. All the way back to Roxborough in the back of the taxi, she'd been mentally bracing herself, waiting for him to make a move. At the very least, surely, he'd suggest going back to his place for coffee.

    But he hadn't. Instead, he'd directed the taxi driver to Beech House and now here they were, outside it.

    'Right,' said Jack. 'Well, got you back safely. Thanks for coming along tonight. It was good.'

    'Yes, it was.' Tilly realized this was it; he wasn't even intending to lean across the seat and plant a polite good-bye kiss on her cheek.

    Right. So here they were outside her home and here she was, un kissed, unpropositioned and, frankly, starting to feel just the teeniest bit unattractive.

    But he still wasn't moving, so what else could she do but climb out of the car?

    'Bye.' Jack nodded.

    'Bye.'

    Did he find her
ugly?

TILLY HAD GOT HER dates muddled; when Max had been booking the tickets for the RSC she had thought the ball in Cheltenham was being held on the Friday evening. Happily, by the time she'd realized her mistake��the ball was on Thursday—it had been too late for him to book another seat.

    Max still thought she'd done it on purpose.

    After school on Friday afternoon, Lou grumbled, 'I don't know why Dad thinks seeing people prancing around on a stage is going to make me like Shakespeare. I bet I'll still think he's boring.'

    Tilly was struggling to tame Lou's wild red curls with serum before making an attempt at a French braid. 'You never know, you might love it.'

    'You want to go in my place?'

    'That's so generous. But then you'd miss out.'

    'We could check the website again; you never know, lots of people might have had to cancel and now there's some tickets left.'

    'You are so
sweet
to think of that.' Tilly gave one of her curls a tweak. 'Luckily, I thought of it first and I have my great excuse all ready for you. One of us has to stay at home and look after Betty.'

    'Bloody hell,' complained Max, just home from a meeting with a client in Bristol. 'You'd think I was threatening you with a night in a torture chamber having your ribs cracked without anesthetic.'

    'And if I try to fall asleep in the theatre he'll poke me awake.' Lou pulled a face and patted her lap as Betty trotted into the living room at Max's heels. 'Come up here, Betty. How would you like to go to the theatre with Dad tonight?'

    Betty bounded on to her lap and licked her face.

    'That means yes! Yay, good girl, Betty! You can have my ticket.'

    'I'm living with a bunch of ingrates. Right, I'm off for a shower. We'll leave at six.' Shrugging off his jacket, Max said, 'By the way, Jack rang me earlier. You left your pashmina on the floor of the taxi last night. He's got it.'

    'Oh brilliant.' Tilly exhaled with relief. 'I thought I'd lost it.'

    'He said he can drop it back next time he's passing, or you can call in and pick it up.'

    'So what are you going to be doing this evening while we're gone?' said Lou.

    'Nice long bath. Chinese takeaway. Three episodes of
Ugly Betty
. Not
you
,' Tilly exclaimed as Betty, sitting up straighter on Lou's lap, shot her a wounded look. 'You're not ugly, sweetheart. You're beautiful. And a Marks and Spencer cappuccino walnut whip.'

    'Lucky thing,' Lou sighed.

    Tilly said smugly, 'I know. Not an unfunny Shakespearean comedy couplet in sight.'

    'Any more sarcasm from your fair lip,' said Max, 'and I shall eat your walnut whip.'

    Lou twisted round and gazed mutely up at Tilly.

    Tilly gave her shoulder a sympathetic pat. 'See? Still not funny.'

    'Betty? Coming in the car?' She jangled her keys enticingly, but all Betty did was slowly open one eye then close it again. 'Fine, suit yourself. I won't be long.'

    On her way to the only Chinese takeaway in Roxborough, it occurred to Tilly that she could pick up her pashmina en route, seeing as she would practically be passing Jack's house. On the minus side, she was wearing her comfy TV-watching velour tracksuit and no makeup. On the plus side, at least he'd know she hadn't tarted herself up for the occasion. That's if he was even at home. Let's face it, this was Friday evening; the chances were he'd be out anyway.