Between The Sheets (12 page)

The sound of Prince's 'Kiss' began to play loudly, interrupting his furious thoughts. He looked blankly at the silent radio. Then he realized the music was coming from under the passenger seat. Pulling into the kerb, he reached down and fumbled about until his hand closed around a mobile phone. 'What the hell?' he muttered as it continued to ring in his hand. After a moment's hesitation he answered it. 'Hello?'

'Is that Gus Johnson?'

'Yes, who is this?'

'It's Terry Andrews and you're holding my phone.'

'I am?'

'Sorry, it must have fallen out of my pocket last night.'

'Oh, right,' he said vaguely. He was still seeing Dana's guilty face, and the smug grin of that bastard she was with.

'Could I drop by your office and pick it up?' Terry was saying.

'No,' he said shortly.

'Look, I'm very sorry to inconvenience an important and busy man such as yourself,' she said angrily, 'but I need my phone.'

'Fine. But I'm not in the office.'

'Oh. Sorry.'

'Where are you now?'

'Er, sitting in a cafe on Baggot Street.'

'Right, if you tell me which one, I'll be with you in ten minutes.'

As he drove, Gus forced himself to calm down. He tried to persuade himself that Dana really had been having an early morning meeting, but he knew it wasn't true. He'd seen that bastard standing at their bedroom window; Dana had been casually dressed — she never dressed down for meetings. As for this Ryan character, he didn't have a car, never mind a briefcase.

Gus banged his fist down on the steering wheel and cursed loudly. They'd spent the night together; it was obvious! How could she do it to him? He sighed and closed his eyes briefly as the traffic slowed to a stop. But then, why shouldn't she? He'd been pictured in the papers with his arm around a strange woman. He'd made no effort to get in touch with her or explain why he'd left. 'Stupid pillock,' he muttered as the traffic started to move again.

She had looked lovely too. He always loved it when she abandoned the cool, sophisticated, successful-woman look in favour of the softer one. He adored seeing her engrossed in her work, a pencil through a knot in her hair, her brow knitted in concentration as she padded absently around the house and garden between frantic sessions on her laptop.

God, he missed her.

When he got to the cafe, Terry was sitting at a table in the window, biting on a pen and frowning at a pad on the table in front of her. He was stunned at how much she resembled Dana when she was engrossed in her work. He pushed his wife out of his mind and strode over to the table, a polite smile in place. 'Sorry I took so long, the traffic's crap.'

She looked up and nodded politely. 'No problem.'

Gus handed over her phone. 'You're very popular, it's rung three times since I talked to you.'

'Sorry.'

He sighed. 'It was an observation not a complaint.'

'Sorry,' she said again and then grinned. 'We seem to say that a lot to each other. Can I buy you a coffee to make up for the hassle of delivering this?'

He sank into the seat opposite. 'It was no hassle, but yeah, I could murder a black coffee.'

She went to the counter and returned moments later with two large mugs of black coffee.

'I thought all you girls drank skinny lattes and mochas and all those other fake drinks.'

'That's very sexist,' she told him. 'No, I need at least three of these in the morning to get me started.'

Gus stared into his cup. 'I think I need something a lot stronger to get me started today.' 'Oh?'

He looked up into her curious face and remembered it was a journalist he was talking to. 'Don't mind me, I just got out of the wrong side of the bed. So, tell me, did you get your job back?'

'Yeah.'

'And what have you got lined up for today? Planning any interviews, or are you just going to sit at your desk and make it all up?'

'That's not fair,' Terry protested, colour flooding her cheeks.

He raised an eyebrow. 'Isn't it?'

'I already told you I had nothing to do with those photos being published. You said you believed me.'

'And I do. But I still think that if you're serious about journalism you should look for a new job. How can you bear to have your name linked with a rag like that?'

'I have to start somewhere and I also have to eat. Anyway, for all you know I might be rubbish. Have you ever even read anything I've written?'

'Probably not,' he admitted with a grin. 'But you're a very good interviewer.'

'Am I?'

He noticed how her eyes lit up at the compliment. 'Yes. You're not too intrusive, you make friends with the interviewee without being too forward and, as a result, they open up to you.'

'Thanks, that's a lovely thing to say.' She sighed. 'I wish my editor felt that way.'

'Why, what's his problem?'

'Her,' Terry corrected him. 'Basically she thinks I'm not pushy enough.'

He held out his hands. 'I told you it was a rag.'

Terry pushed her cup aside, shoved her notebook into her bag and stood up. 'Yeah, well, thanks a bunch for the career advice, but I've got to go.'

He put a hand on her arm. 'Hey, don't be like that. I'm not having a go at you. I just hate what you do.'

Terry sighed dramatically. 'Yeah, well, I suppose I'm just going to have to live with that.'

He laughed. 'That puts me in my place. Please, sit down,' he added quickly, knowing he shouldn't. 'You haven't even finished your second coffee, never mind had your third.'

Her expression softened. 'If I do, will you quit having a go at me?'

Gus nodded solemnly. 'I promise.' She sat back down and he smiled. He should dislike this girl. He certainly shouldn't trust her. But there was something about her that he admired. She was a tough nut and, despite the nature of her work, he suspected she was basically honest. With those mischievous eyes and the ash-blonde hair that hung in soft waves around her shoulders, she was also very pretty.

'But I can't stay long,' Terry said, taking a sip of coffee. 'I have to interview a woman whose cat has psychic powers.'

He opened his mouth to comment and then thought better of it.

'I know it's pathetic but someone's got to do it,' she said glumly.

'Then do it to the best of your ability, no matter how dumb the subject. That's what will get you noticed. Oops, sorry, I promised no more advice.'

'No, that kind of advice is acceptable.' She smiled.

'So maybe we could meet again and you could benefit some more from my words of wisdom,' Gus said recklessly.

Terry stared. 'Are you asking me out, Mr Johnson?'

He saw the glint of humour in her eyes and the full, pink lips that were completely bare of make-up. 'I suppose I am. Does that horrify you?'

She shook her head slowly. 'No, but I am a bit surprised. Aren't you afraid I'll say yes just to pump you for information about your private life?'

Gus shrugged. 'Strangely, no. Why? Is that the kind of thing you would do?'

She held his gaze. 'No. No, it isn't.'

'So?'

She nodded. 'Okay, then, on one condition.'

He let out a breath that he hadn't even realized he was holding. 'I should have known there'd be a condition.'

'I pick the venue.'

'Fair enough,' he murmured, wondering what he was letting himself in for.

'Can you meet me tomorrow at seven-thirty at the Grand Canal Dock train station?'

Gus frowned as he pulled out his Notepad and checked. 'Yes, I'm free that evening. But there's no need to take the train; I can pick you up.'

'No, that's fine, we won't need transport.'

He looked at her curiously. 'I don't know of any restaurants down there.'

She grinned. 'Who said we were going to a restaurant?'

As he walked back to his car Gus couldn't stop smiling at how his mood had lightened. Less than two hours ago he'd been devastated at his wife's infidelity; now he was grinning like an idiot because he had a date with another woman. It was probably the whole rebound thing, he realized as he drove to the office. Terry was young, pretty and available, that's all it was. She was also a journalist, he reminded himself. The first sign of her showing too much interest in his private life and he'd drop her like a hot potato. But it was no big deal. It was only one date. It didn't have to go any further than that. He could stop it any time he liked. If there was one thing Gus was sure of, it was that he had no interest in any kind of permanent relationship. Not any more.

'Where the hell have you been?' Tom marched into Gus's office seconds after Gus sat down.

'Sorry, I had some stuff to take care of.'

Tom scowled. 'I don't suppose that "stuff" had anything to do with our company?'

'No. No, it didn't. Listen, Tom, I really don't need this—'

'Well, tough. We're supposed to be partners but you seem to have forgotten that—'

'I went to see Dana.'

Tom dropped into the chair on the other side of Gus's desk and stared at him. 'How did it go?'

Gus shook his head. 'It didn't.'

'She wouldn't see you?'

'Oh, yes, she agreed to see me all right. The only problem was she had to get rid of her lover first. Sadly for her, she wasn't quite quick enough.'

'She had a man there?'

Gus sighed. 'I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. We knew she was getting on with life. Then, of course, she may have seen the photos of me and Terry.'

Tom frowned. 'Terry?'

Gus felt his face redden. 'The reporter from the other night.'

'Oh, right. Still, even so. Are you sure you haven't got your wires crossed?'

'Pretty sure. I wandered out into the garden while I was waiting for her to come down and this bastard was standing at the bedroom window.
My
bedroom window,' he added, the anger starting to surface again.

'Shit,' Tom murmured.

'I went there this morning to talk to her; something I should have done weeks ago. But I've left it too late.'

'What is it all about anyway, Gus?' Tom asked, unable to hold his silence any longer. 'Why did you leave her in the first place?'

Gus raised his eyes to meet Tom's. 'Because our whole marriage has been a lie.'

'What?' Tom looked baffled.

'It's complicated.'

'Do you want to talk about it?'

'No. Thanks, but I'd just like to get down to work, and forget about it for a while.'

With a sigh, Tom stood up and walked to the door. 'No problem. If you change your mind—'

'Sure.'

Tom hesitated in the doorway. 'Why don't you head down to Cork for a few days? You could bring some work with you.'

'That's
her
house,' Gus said bitterly.

'Rubbish! You've invested money, not to mention blood, sweat and tears into that place. And she's never loved it the way you have.'

Gus nodded thoughtfully. 'Maybe it's time we put things on a more official footing. Dana could keep the house here — she's welcome to it — but I would love to hold on to the farmhouse. I'll have to find a flat in Dublin too. I'm going nuts in that bloody hotel.'

'You know you're welcome to our spare room—'

'No,' Gus said quickly. He couldn't imagine anything worse than living with his happily married, pregnant friends. It would be torture. 'Thanks for the offer but I need some space at the moment.'

Tom nodded. 'You're probably right. It would be only a matter of time before Ashling roped you into decorating the nursery.'

The phone rang and Gus put his hand out to get it. 'Sorry, Tom, but I'd better get on.'

'Yeah. You know where I am if you need me.'

After sitting in a stupor in her office for several hours, Dana picked up the phone.

'Hello?'

'Judy, it's me.'

'Dana? Dana, are you all right?'

'Not really. Is there any chance you could come up?'

'You're scaring me now. What is it? Are you sick?'

'No, nothing like that. Sorry, don't mind me. I'm being stupid. Forget I called.'

'No! Don't hang up,' Judy yelled. 'If you need me, I'll come. I can be with you by six, will that do?'

'But the girls—'

'Mum will mind them, don't worry. See you then.'

Dana put down the phone and smiled through her tears. Judy was something else. She really didn't deserve a friend like her. She wasn't even sure why she wanted to talk now, but somehow she felt that she was losing her grip on life. She needed someone sensible to help her figure out what to do next. Who better than Judy?

Dana had sent Sylvie home. The girl had skipped into the office this morning full of chat about the previous night and was stunned to see her boss looking miserable. Dana had no intention of explaining herself so she said she was sick and told Sylvie to take the day off.

She fetched wine from the fridge and headed out to the garden. She was settling down to wait for Judy when she decided a cigarette would be nice. She didn't often indulge, but if there was a day she deserved a smoke, this had to be it. She was jumpy and she didn't think the wine would be enough to calm her.

Going back inside she rooted in drawers and coat pockets but, apart from an empty Silk Cut packet, there wasn't a sniff of tobacco in the house. 'Damn,' she muttered, the craving growing as she searched. She'd have to either nip down to the filling station at the corner or do without. The latter was suddenly inconceivable so she grabbed her coat, slung her bag over her shoulder and set off down the road. She bought twenty Marlboro Light and was out of the shop and back up the road within a couple of minutes. As she neared the house, she groped in her pocket for the remote control for the gate. As it slowly opened, a car drew up alongside her.

'Hey, Dana, how's it going?'

She looked around, smiling automatically. 'Hi.'

'Good night, last night?'

She frowned. The sun was in her eyes and she couldn't see the man's face clearly.

'Who are you?'

'I'm a reporter on the
Daily Journal.
Would you like to tell us about this new man in your life?'

She stared at him. 'What?'

'Go on, Dana, give us a quote. Can you imagine your husband's face when he sees the photos?'