Thinking of You (13 page)

“You look nice,” said Laurel.

Ginny was immediately overcome with guilt. Laurel was sitting on the sofa in her droopy dressing gown, half reading a novel with a depressing cover and half watching a documentary about alopecia. The title of the book on her lap was
How
Can
I
Live
without
You?
Ginny couldn't help feeling that if Laurel needed cheering up she'd be a lot better off with some nice breezy chick lit.

“Thanks.” She smoothed her lime-green silk dress over her hips and showed off the lilac shoes that matched her bag. “These are a bit high, to be honest. I'll probably tip over and break an ankle. It's a shame you couldn't have come along too, but…”

“I know. Carla only had one spare ticket.” Laurel didn't seem too distraught. “Don't worry, I'm fine staying in.”

“And you've made that great curry,” Ginny went on with too much enthusiasm. “So there's that to look forward to!”

Ergh, now she sounded like a hospital visitor.

“I know. Actually, I thought I might ring Perry and invite him round. He likes curry.” Catching the flicker of alarm in Ginny's eyes, Laurel said, “That's all right, isn't it?”

Oh God, more deceit.

“Of course it is! Well, I'll just—”

The phone in her bag was ringing. Praying it wouldn't be Perry, Ginny fished it out.

It wasn't, thank goodness. “Jem! Hello, darling, how are you?” She waved, mouthed good-bye to Laurel, and headed out to the hall.

“Great, Mum. I'm just calling to say don't ring me tomorrow morning because we're having a party tonight here at the flat and lots of people will probably end up staying over, so we'll all be asleep until midday.”

Ginny smiled, picturing the scene the morning after. The flat would be in a revolting state. “OK, sweetheart, I'll let you have your lie-in. And don't forget to rope in all those overnighters to help with the clearing up. Don't let them slope off leaving you with all the work.”

Jem laughed. “No need for that. Rupert's already booked a team of cleaners to come and blitz the place tomorrow afternoon. One of the advantages of being rich—we don't have to do a thing.”

“That's good news then. So you're all still getting on well together?” Since Jem had never volunteered any information about her relationship with Rupert, Ginny hadn't asked. Jem might regard it as prying, Ginny knew she wouldn't be able to pretend to be overjoyed, and the last thing they needed was to have a fall-out.

“Everything's great.” Jem certainly sounded chirpy. “We're busy doing all the food. Lucy and I are burning sausages and chopping onions…”

“And Rupert?” See? She couldn't help herself.

“Oh, he's a lazy bum. He's in the bath!”

What a surprise. But Jem was laughing, too happy to mind that Rupert was supercilious, selfish, and not one of life's workers. Impulsively, Ginny said, “Have you invited Davy to the party?”

“Mum, I'm beginning to think you've got a bit of a thing about Davy.” Jem giggled. “You're always going on about him.”

That's because he's a nice boy, Ginny longed to say. Unlike some people I could mention.

Aloud she said, “Sorry.”

“To be honest, Davy and Rupert don't like each other much. So it was easier not to. Anyway,” Jem changed the subject, “I haven't asked how things are with you. What are you up to this weekend? Anything nice?”

“Very nice, thanks.” Letting herself out of the house enabled Ginny to talk freely without being overheard by Laurel. “In fact I'm off to a party myself tonight. The Carson Hotel's reopening at last, having a bit of a flashy do to celebrate. Carla invited me along with a friend and we're hoping for better than burnt sausages and fried onions.”

“Hey, Mum, brilliant. Who's the friend, one of Carla's boy toys?”

“Actually, he's someone I've been out with a couple of times. We get on well.” Ginny said it casually, as if she'd been out with gazillions of men.

“Mum!” Jem, who knew she hadn't, was instantly agog. “Who
is
he?”

“Just someone nice. Don't get excited.” It had been killing Ginny not to mention Perry before now but she still didn't dare give him a name. Never one for discretion, Jem had once loudly announced on a bus that Father Christmas wasn't real, reducing a dozen younger children to tears.

She'd only been ten at the time, but still.

“Don't tell me not to get excited. I
am
excited! Is he handsome? Has Carla met him yet? This is so cool!”

Ginny crossed the road as Carla came out of her house. “Yes, he's handsome. And Carla's about to meet him for the first time. In fact we're just off to the hotel now, so I'm going to say bye. Have a lovely time tonight, darling. Be good!”

Jem, sounding as if she was grinning, said, “You too.”

***

“There he is.” Pride welled up as Ginny pointed across the room to where Perry was standing, smartly dressed (hooray) and (double hooray) handsomer than ever. His red-gold hair gleamed in the brilliant light from the chandeliers, setting him apart from every other man in the room. He was wearing a dark blue suit and a blue and white striped shirt, and when he spotted Ginny with Carla he broke into a smile that sent tingles of lust zip-zapping up and down Ginny's spine.

He joined them and she performed the introductions.

“It's good to meet you at last.” Perry shook Carla's hand.

“Hmm,” Carla said coolly. “You may change your mind about that.”

Perry turned to Ginny. “You said she was scary. You were right.”

“Ginny's my friend. I'm looking out for her.” Carla's tone was crisp.

“Well, guess what? You don't need to.”

Her eyes flashed. “When I start seeing a new man, he's on the phone day and night. He can't keep away. We see each other all the time.”

“As long as they've done their homework and their mothers say they're allowed out,” Perry retorted.

“OK, stop it.” Ginny stepped between them—God, this was turning into a soap opera. “No mud-slinging. I want you to be nice to each other.”

Perry shrugged. “She started it.”

“What are you, a complete
wimp
?”

“Don't,” Ginny pleaded.

“Fine. I'm sorry. I'm sure he's wonderful.” Briskly, Carla nodded and glanced around the room. “Well, I have to network. I'll leave you two to chat.” And she left them.

Alarmed, Ginny said, “She isn't usually like that.”

“Don't worry, I know the type. Some women can dish it out but they can't take it. Look at her hair.” Perry's tone was disparaging. “The outfit, the makeup. Hard as nails, desperate to prove herself. That's why she goes for younger men, so she can boss them around, be the one who calls the tune. But deep down? She's insecure.” He sounded so sure, so dismissive.

“Carla isn't insecure. She's—”

“Enough about Carla. You're here and that's all I care about.” Perry gazed deep into her eyes. “We're going to have a good time tonight.”

Despite the tricky start, Ginny was glad to see him again. Perry took two glasses of champagne from the tray of a hovering waitress and they clinked them together.

“Here's to you. Looking fabulous.” He eyed her dress with appreciation. “Now tell me what you've been up to this week.”

So she told him about working at Penhaligon's and taking Laurel to the singles club, and about Laurel sitting at home in her droopy dressing gown watching sad programs on TV. “She was planning to invite you over this evening,” Ginny added. “I felt terrible.”

“Don't. You're great with her.”

“But she's still depressed about Kevin.”

“Think how much more depressed she'd be if she didn't have you.” Glancing past her left ear, Perry said, “We're being watched, by the way. Not one of your exes, is it?”

Ginny turned and saw Finn a distance away, talking to a luscious brunette but with his gaze flickering in their direction. “That's my boss.”

Finn's attention was recaptured by the curvy brunette but Ginny, delighted he'd noticed them, found herself becoming more animated and moving closer to Perry, touching his arm as they talked. If Finn had been expecting her to turn up with some ordinary unprepossessing man, well, ha, she hadn't! She hoped he was impressed. Later, when the situation arose, they would wander over and she would introduce him to Perry. Ooh, more drinks coming around, lovely.

***

Carla had spent the last hour circulating, greeting people she knew, and introducing herself to those she didn't. The Carson Hotel was the only five-star hotel in Portsilver and its glittering reopening was a major event. Everyone was impressed by the Victorian-style conservatory, immaculately finished and commanding uninterrupted views over the ocean. Already she had been asked by three guests to supply quotes for extensions to their own homes or businesses.

So far, then, a successful evening. With one awkward but manageable exception.

On her way to the ladies' loos, Carla bumped into him. Without missing a beat, as smoothly as a conjuror executing a nifty magic trick, Perry pushed open a door leading off the long corridor and drew her into the empty room.

“What?” Carla demanded fiercely.

“Has this ever happened to you before?”

Her eyes narrowed. “You mean being kidnapped?”

“You know what I'm talking about.”

He was looking down at her, holding her by the shoulders against the wall. Carla swallowed and realized she was trembling. “Let me go.”

“You haven't answered my question.”

“I don't have to.”

“I think you should.”

“If you're trying to scare me…”

“No need,” Perry said with a smile. “You're doing an excellent job of scaring yourself. So, ready to admit it now?”

Carla's mouth was bone dry. “Ready to admit
what
?”

By way of reply he released one of her shoulders and laid the flat of his right hand over her sternum between the vee of her shirt and the base of her throat. Immediately—as if she needed reminding—Carla felt her heart thumping away, pounding as if she'd just run a marathon.

“Now, I'm no doctor,” Perry's tone was intimate, “but I'd guess a hundred and twenty beats per minute.”

She was losing. He
knew
.

“That's what happens when you're trapped in a room with someone.” Attempting to press herself backward into the wall, she said, “Especially when it's someone you don't trust.”

“Except it was happening before, wasn't it? When Ginny first introduced us back there in the ballroom. I saw it happen.” Perry smiled again as he lightly brushed a forefinger over the frantically pulsating, all too visible vein in her neck.

This was terrible, a full-blown nightmare. Carla had always,
always
been able to hide her true feelings. It was a gift she prided herself on. Then again, had she ever experienced sensations as intense, as overwhelming as these before? The moment she'd clapped eyes on Perry Kennedy, her body had reacted independently of her mind. She didn't believe in love at first sight, but if she did… well, it would feel like this.

Except this man belonged to Ginny. And Ginny was her best friend. She
couldn't
allow herself to give in.

“It's the same for me,” Perry whispered. “Exactly the same for me. You're the one; you're everything I ever wanted. Sorry, I know that sounds corny. But it's true.”

“Let go of me. This isn't going to happen. I don't want to see you again.” Lightheaded and gulping for air, Carla tried to push him away.

“You will; you have to. Look, I don't want to hurt Ginny either. And I know we can't do anything tonight, but I do need to see you again. Just give me your number, and I'll ring you. Can we meet up tomorrow?”

“No.” This time Carla managed to free herself. Panting, she said, “
No
,” and stumbled out of the room.

Dear God, why had this had to happen to
her
?

The ladies' cloakroom was thankfully empty. Locking herself in one of the cool marble cubicles, Carla sat on the loo with her head in her hands, covering her flaming cheeks and willing the last ten minutes to empty themselves from her mind. Delete. Rewind. Think of Ginny, think of Ginny,
don't
think of—

Brrrppp
. Carla's phone trilled and she almost fell off the loo seat. Her hands shaking violently, she saw an unfamiliar number flash up. Leave it to go to voice mail, just leave it.

No, she couldn't.

“H-hello?”

“It's me.”

She'd known it would be him. “I said don't ring me.”

“No you didn't.” Perry's voice was conversational, amused. “You said you wouldn't give me your number.”

“So how…?”

“
Luckily
there's a table out in the conservatory with your company's brochures on it.” He paused. “Not to mention a pile of your business cards.”

“I don't want to speak to you. I'm hanging up.”

“I live in the flat above my shop. Twenty-five B, Harbor Street. Eight o'clock tomorrow evening suit you?”

Carla closed her eyes, pressed her trembling knees together. “You're out of your mind. Ginny's my
friend
.”

“Eight o'clock it is then.”

“I'm going to tell her about this. I'm going to go out there right now and tell her what you're doing behind her back.”

“Eight o'clock,” said Perry.

Click.

Carla gazed at the phone. He had hung up.