Authors: Jill Mansell

Kiss (35 page)

BOOK: Kiss

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Fishing an ice cube from the drink in his hand he dropped it into the hollow of her navel and grinned as, with a yelp, she ricocheted into a sitting position.

‘Wake up. Mrs Bishop wants to know why you saw fit to massacre her sandwiches. She says unless you eat up every last crumb, she’s leaving.’

‘Oh God . . . oh,
you!
’ Realizing belatedly that he was joking, Izzy sank back against the sunlounger and aimed the ice cube at his crotch. ‘That would be too much to hope for,’ she grumbled, glancing over her shoulder in case the old dragon was hovering, lurch-like, behind her. Then she examined her ominously rosy chest with dismay. ‘And this isn’t funny either. Hell, what am I going to look like tomorrow? We’ve got that photo session and I’m going to have a burnt nose . . . ouch, that
hurts
!’

She squirmed as he ran his fingernails along her collarbone, then smiled because at least he was in good spirits. While Tash would never describe himself as temperamental, she had already discovered his tendency towards moodiness whenever work refused to go well. Life wasn’t all roses. Capable of the utmost charm when he chose, several wasted hours in his precious recording studio could change his mood to one of picky, tricky irritation and short temper. Izzy, who couldn’t see the point of such irritability - since it didn’t solve anything - steadfastly refused to be intimidated and either laughed or ignored him when it happened. But it was undoubtedly nicer, she reflected drily, when it didn’t.

‘Someone might be watching,’ she protested, trying to wriggle away as Tash began to slide the straps of her bikini away from her sunburnt shoulders.

‘So?’ He hauled her back before she landed on the plate of sandwiches. ‘Would that really be so terrible? Sweetheart, it’s half the fun.’

No doubt his past girlfriends had gone along with such suggestions, but Izzy wasn’t about to set herself up as a floorshow for the security staff. Rising to her feet, she hooked a finger through one of the belt loops on his jeans and led him uncomplainingly inside. When they reached the bedroom, she slowly unbuttoned his white shirt and murmured, ‘This is more fun.’

Afterwards, as he lit a joint and slowly exhaled, Tash said, ‘I forgot to tell you. Someone phoned earlier, wanting to speak to you.’

Izzy didn’t approve of drugs of any kind, but since he only laughed and called her a prude whenever she tried to tell him of the damage they could do, she no longer bothered. At least it was only marijuana, she consoled herself. It could have been much worse.

‘And?’ she said, stretching lazily and revelling in the luxury of not having to get up and go to work in either a crowded pub or a smoky, un-air-conditioned club. ‘Who was it? Do I have to call them back?’

Tash shook his head. ‘Nope. He said he was flying out to the States this afternoon, so I took a message. It was your friend Sam Sheridan.’ Aware of the fact that Sam disapproved of his relationship with Izzy, he spoke in faintly mocking tones. ‘He just wanted you to know that he’d had a word with Katerina, but that it wasn’t a great success.’

‘What!’ In a flurry of bedclothes, Izzy jerked into a sitting position. ‘Why couldn’t you tell me earlier? Why on earth didn’t you come and find me when he phoned?’

Tash’s eyes darkened. He fixed his gaze on the glowing tip of the joint between his fingers. ‘I was busy. I didn’t know where you were. Look, what’s the big deal? The man’s a jerk and what he had to say was hardly of earth-shattering importance, anyway.’

Shooting him a look of disdain, Izzy grabbed the phone by the bed and punched out Sam’s number. Seconds later, abruptly disconnecting the call, she said, ‘Bloody answering machine. Thanks a lot, Tash. My daughter might mean nothing to you, but she
is
important to me.’

And don’t we all know it, he thought with resignation, taking a final, long drag before stubbing out the cigarette. Izzy’s obsession with Katerina was beyond his comprehension. Rebellion was part of growing up. When he was seventeen years old he’d left home and gone to live in a squat in Bayswater, sharing the icy, unfurnished basement flat with an acid-head and a fifteen-stone transvestite. It hadn’t done him any harm, for Christ’s sake.

But the marijuana was taking effect and he really couldn’t be bothered to get into a fight.

‘Angel, calm down,’ he said placatingly. ‘OK, OK, I’m sorry if I upset you. But I
was
pretty busy when the phone rang . . . and I would have come and found you if Sam had had something more positive to report, of course I would.’

Izzy digested this in silence. Maybe she had reacted too strongly. Tash wasn’t being deliberately obstructive, he simply hadn’t thought it that important.

‘All right,’ she said finally, only too well aware herself of the fact that the last thing they needed right now was a major row. The publicity machine was revving up to full throttle; practically every day for the next fortnight they were scheduled for interviews with journalists eager to get the low-down on Tash’s latest relationship. ‘All right, I’m sorry too. I just can’t help worrying about Kat, that’s all.’

‘No big deal,’ he said easily, relieved to have averted the crisis. Sliding out of bed, he strode naked across the room to the vast chest of drawers and took out a slim, matt black jewellery box. ‘Here, I was saving this for the day “Never, Never” went to Number One.’With a crooked smile, he dropped it in her lap. Izzy needn’t know that the emerald-and-sapphire earrings from Bulgari had been bought for Anna. Splitting up with her three days before her birthday had had its small advantages, after all; he’d never bothered returning them to the shop. ‘But maybe you should open it now. Just a little something to cheer you up.’

Kat might not want her but at least Tash did. Overwhelmed by the size and beauty of the stones, and by his thoughtfulness in choosing the kind of earrings he knew she would love, Izzy rose to her knees and slid her arms around his neck. Too moved to speak, she leaned closer and kissed his handsome mouth.

‘I’m too old for this,’ murmured Tash.

‘I’m sure you can cope,’ Izzy replied, her lips curving against his as she smiled. ‘What the hell, anyway? I’ll risk it if you will . . .’

Chapter 37

Later, much later, Gina would come to appreciate the significant part two fingernail-sized slivers of pink tissue paper had played in her life. At the time, however, it didn’t even occur to her; she was having far too much trouble keeping a straight face.

The rain was still hammering down outside. It had been the dazzling spectacle of forked lightning against an indigo sky which had drawn her to the window less than two minutes earlier. Doug, hunched in his chair with his ear welded to the phone, glanced up and said hopefully, ‘Coffee?’ but Gina didn’t hear him. In the street below, emerging from a cab and pausing briefly to examine his reflection in the rain-streaked side-mirror was Ralph, whom she hadn’t set eyes upon since that humiliating afternoon at Kingsley Grove. All the air seemed suddenly to have been sucked from her lungs. He was one of Doug’s most successful clients and she had known she should be geared up to seeing him again, but now that it was happening she was still unprepared. No matter how many times she told herself he didn’t mean anything to her, it never quite rang true. Ralph was too charming and attractive ever to be ignored. He was the epitome of
cool
. . .

‘With three sugars?’ wheedled Doug, who wasn’t cool at all. Thanks to Gina’s gifts of deodorant and aftershave the aura of BO had dissipated and he no longer smelled anything but sweet, but whenever he was caught in the throes of clinching a deal nothing on earth could prevent those damp patches forming on the underarms of his shirts. Poker, as Izzy had once gravely informed him, was never going to be his forte.

But making coffee would at least give Gina something to do so that she wouldn’t have to sit there like a lemon while Ralph made polite conversation and inwardly smirked at her gullibility. Moving away from the window and flicking the switch on the kettle, she began spooning instant coffee into two cups and listened to the rhythmic beat of Ralph’s footsteps as he confidently ascended the stairs.

The beige Burberry trenchcoat was rain-spotted but otherwise immaculate, as were - of course - the matching scarf and umbrella. The collar-length blond hair had grown blonder still with the recent addition of expensive and artfully styled streaks. The tan was deeper and smoother than ever. Intimidated by such perfection - as she had known she would be - Gina bent her head to the task of spooning far more sugar than usual into Doug’s cup. Since she habitually under-sugared in a vain attempt to reduce his paunch, he would think it was his birthday.

‘Doug, how are you?’ Ralph, who had in fact taken particular care with his appearance because he was anxious to impress Gina - OK, so he had used her initially to get back at Izzy, but he had rapidly grown to
like
her - stepped forward and shook his agent’s pudgy hand with enthusiasm. ‘God, what weather! I just called by to let you know that we’ve finished filming the TV serial. The producers are really pleased with me, and the director has suggested I put myself up for a play he’s involved with, so things are on the up. Hallo, Gina,’ he added, as if seeing her for the first time. ‘You’re looking well. Very well. Working for this old slave-driver obviously suits you.’

He was . . .
golden
, thought Gina, forcing a brief smile and attempting to appear unconcerned by his presence.

‘Less of the old,’ complained Doug, glancing between the two of them and realizing that something was going on. Not always famed for his diplomacy, he nevertheless sensed that a trip to the newsagents around the corner might be in order. ‘Hell, I’ve run out of cigarettes. Gina, make this young man a coffee and keep him entertained until I get back, will you? I’ll be five minutes.’

‘Fine,’ said Ralph.

Help, thought Gina, oh help.

But for once in her life, help was on its way. As the door slammed behind Doug, Ralph settled easily into the client’s chair and unwound the cashmere scarf around his neck, and the miracle Gina had been praying for finally happened.

‘I wanted to see you again.’ He assumed a confidential air, pushing his streaked hair away from his forehead and tilting his head slightly to one side as he studied her. ‘You really have bloomed, Gina . . . look, I’m sorry about that misunderstanding we had, but I’m sure we could put it behind us now.’

Gina couldn’t speak. If she tried to open her mouth she knew the giggles would erupt. If it had been anyone else, the fact that they had cut themselves while shaving wouldn’t even
be
particularly funny, but it was perfect Ralph, the picture of
GQ
sophistication.

With a gulp she gazed, transfixed, at the two torn shreds of pink toilet paper dangling from his throat. Dotted with dried blood, they were an inch and a half apart, which only made them look that much more like a vampire’s bite. Exactly on cue, a fresh downpour of rain rattled the windows and forked lightning illuminated the office, causing the lights to flicker in true
Hammer Horror
fashion. As the ensuing roll of thunder shook the building, Gina pressed her lips together and clenched her fists until the nails dug into her palms. The spell had been well and truly broken; no longer perfect, it was now Ralph’s turn to look foolish and she was going to make sure she enjoyed every single, wonderful moment . . .

‘What’s so funny?’ he demanded with a trace of suspicion, and she shook her head.

‘Nothing . . . nothing. Thunderstorms make me a bit nervous, that’s all. Um . . . I can’t remember whether you take sugar.’

From the expression on his face she might have been enquiring whether he injected heroin. Ralph took fanatical care of his body.

‘Thanks.’ Taking the cup, he flashed her a winning smile. Imagining for a moment that his incisors seemed slightly elongated, Gina quelled a further explosion of giggles, and sat back down in her own chair with a bump.

‘Am
I
making you nervous?’ He spoke gently this time, shaking his head with mock disbelief.The ludicrous shreds of pink toilet paper fluttered in sympathy. ‘Sweetheart, there’s really no need. Why don’t we put the past behind us and try again? I’m free this evening if you’d like to come out with me for dinner.’

‘I . . . I’m busy tonight.’ With an effort she managed to get the words out. ‘Sorry.’

He shook his head once more. Flutter, flutter. ‘Oh sweetheart. Don’t tell me you’re still cross with me.’

‘Not . . . cross.’ In serious danger of wetting herself, Gina pressed her knees together. ‘Just b-busy.’

BOOK: Kiss

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