Kiss

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Authors: Jill Mansell

BOOK: Kiss
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Kiss
 
 
 
 
JILL MANSELL
 
 
 
headline
 
 
 
Copyright © 1993 Jill Mansell
 
 
The right of Jill Mansell to be identified as the Author of
the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the
Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
 
 
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this
publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in
any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of
the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in
accordance with the terms of licences issued by the
Copyright Licensing Agency.
 
 
First published as an Ebook by Headline Publishing Group in 2008
 
 
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any
resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
 
 
ISBN 978 0 7553 5186 2
 
 
This Ebook produced by Jouve Digitalisation des Informations
 
 
HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP
An Hachette Livre UK Company
338 Euston Road
London NW1 3BH
 
Table of Contents
 
 
 
Jill Mansell worked for many years at the Burden Neurological Hospital, Bristol, and now writes full-time. Amongst her many
Sunday Times
bestsellers are NADIA KNOWS BEST, FALLING FOR YOU, THE ONE YOU REALLY WANT and MAKING YOUR MIND UP; a full list of her books appears on page ii.
 
For Cino and Lydia
With all my love
 
Chapter 1
 
‘I just want to know,’ Katerina said slowly, ‘whether your intentions towards my mother are honourable.’
 
And despite the fact that it was snowing hard, she stood her ground in the doorway, refusing to allow Ralph inside.
 
‘What a little darling you are.’ He grinned and ruffled her hair, because he knew how much it annoyed her. ‘And whatever did your disgraceful mother ever do to deserve such a daughter? If you were a few years older, Kat, I swear I’d whisk you off to Gretna Green myself.’
 
‘Ah, but would I be silly enough to go? Besides, we aren’t talking about my marital prospects,’ she continued, her expression stern. ‘I asked you a question and I’m still waiting for an answer.’
 
‘Of course. Are my intentions honourable?’ Frowning, he paused for a second to consider his reply. Snowflakes, melting in his hair, were sliding down his neck. It was very cold. ‘No, sorry,’ he said finally. ‘Absolutely not.’
 
Katerina shrugged. ‘That’s all right, then,’ she replied cheerfully, stepping to one side and waving him through. ‘Mum can’t stand honourable men. She’s in the kitchen, by the way, dyeing her hair.’
 
‘Go away,’ grumbled Izzy, her voice muffled, her head plunged upside down in the sink. ‘You’re early.’
 
‘No, I’m not.’ Ralph pinched her bottom, denim-clad and excitingly stuck out. ‘You’re late. What colour is it going to be, anyway?’ Peering more closely at the mass of curling, dripping hair, he saw that the rinsed-off water in the washing-up bowl was an ominous shade of indigo.
 
The final jug of hot water cascaded down, splashing into the sink and on to the floor. When Izzy had wrung out her hair and wrapped an enormous pink towel turban-style around her head she resumed vertical posture and planted a wet kiss on Ralph’s cheek before he could dodge out of the way.
 
‘Glossy Blackberry. It’ll be irresistible, darling.’
 
She was already irresistible, he thought as he followed her through to the cluttered living room - untidy, but irresistible. And although they were supposed to be going to a party in Hampstead he was beginning to have second thoughts about it now, despite the fact that an extremely useful film producer was rumoured to be attending. It would take Izzy at least an hour to get herself done up and it was arctic outside. The prospect of a quiet night in - just the two of them in front of the fire - was becoming increasingly inviting.
 
‘Going out?’ he asked hopefully, addressing Katerina. Stretched out across the entire length of the cushion-strewn sofa with her bare legs dangling over the arm, she was engrossed in a book.
 
She didn’t even bother to look up. ‘No.’
 
Why couldn’t Katerina be like normal teenagers, he thought with a trace of exasperation, and go out on a Friday night? The mother-daughter package might have its small advantages - and the fact that Katerina was able to
organise
Izzy was an undoubted plus - but her total disinterest in the social whirl, at times, could be a distinct pain.
 
He seriously doubted whether Katerina even knew the meaning of the word enjoyment in its generally accepted sense. At seventeen, she didn’t have a boyfriend, didn’t like discos or parties and deplored teenage magazines. She never gossiped. Her idea of a really good time, it seemed, was to hog the sofa and devour a few chapters of
Gray’s Anatomy
. God knows, she was a
nice
enough girl, well mannered and charming, funny when she wanted to be and undoubtedly beautiful. Why she wasn’t out every night making the most of it he simply couldn’t imagine.
 
But the fact remained that she wasn’t, and since she didn’t appear to be showing any sign of moving from the sofa either, Ralph reconciled himself to the idea that they may as well go to the party after all.
 
‘I’ll be five minutes,’ lied Izzy, heading towards her bedroom with the pink towel trailing damply behind her like a matador’s cape.
 
‘Mum, your hair’s blue.’ Katerina, who failed to understand why anyone should even
want
to change the colour of their hair, let alone practise it on a monthly basis, gazed after her mother with a mixture of exasperation and tolerance.
 
‘No, it isn’t,’ replied Izzy loftily over her shoulder. ‘It’s Glossy Blackberry. It’ll be irresistible. When it’s finished.’
 
 
There really weren’t many greater luxuries in life than this, Izzy decided. Chronic lack of money, the frustration of being wildly talented and as yet undiscovered, the sheer
bother
of having to wonder how much longer their revolting landlord was going to allow them to stay in their less-than-luxurious flat . . . these problems simply faded into insignificance when one was lying in a warm bed with a gorgeous man, caressing deliciously warm flesh and knowing that one didn’t have to get up for hours. It was positively blissful.
 
‘Skin contact,’ she announced, pleased with herself for having recognised its importance.
 
‘Hmmm?’
 
‘The three most pleasurable experiences known to man.’ She smiled, sliding closer still and plastering the entire length of her body against his side. ‘Sex, sneezing and skin contact. No, make that sex, skin contact and sneezing. Touching skin is the second greatest pleasure. And it’s certainly more fun than a cold.’
 
A foot brushed against her shin, moving experimentally up and down. ‘Only if the other person remembers to shave her legs.’
 
Izzy raked her fingernails down his chest in protest. ‘I did remember! I did them the other night.’
 
‘While you were dyeing your hair?’ said Mike. ‘Just think, you could have dyed your legs and shaved your head by mistake. What a thought.’
 
‘How can you be so sarcastic at ten o’clock on a Sunday morning?’ demanded Izzy grumpily. Realizing that she was hungry, she wondered whether Kat would be amenable to the idea of cooking a gigantic breakfast.
 
‘It comes naturally.’
 
‘It isn’t fair.’
 
‘Life isn’t fair.’ Mike hauled himself into a sitting position, since natural sleep was clearly going to be denied him. ‘The fact that I only see you two nights a week isn’t fair. Izzy, if we’re going to have a proper relationship we should organise ourselves more effectively.’
 
That was the trouble with Mike, thought Izzy, smiling beneath the bedclothes. It was also part of his charm; only Mike could expect her to ‘organise herself more effectively’. As far as she was concerned, their relationship was perfect. Each week she spent two nights with Mike, two with Ralph and two nights working. Wednesdays were for rest and relaxation. And if that wasn’t perfect planning, she didn’t know what was.
 
‘You’re busy, I’m busy . . .’ she murmured vaguely, cuddling up to him once more. ‘Besides, you’d get bored. I lead a pretty mundane life, after all. You’d soon go off me if you had to sit and watch me scrubbing the kitchen floor and hoovering the hallway.’
 
Nothing Izzy ever did was mundane, thought Mike. He also seriously doubted that she even knew what a Hoover looked like, but sensed nevertheless that arguing the point would be futile. ‘OK,’ he said, gathering her into his arms and breathing in the faint, unmistakably Izzyish scent of her body. ‘I give in. I’ll expand my business empire and you can hoover to your heart’s content. Just so long as
you
don’t get bored and find yourself another man.’

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