Naked Truths (51 page)

Catherine flushed guiltily at the memory of waking up next to Tolstoy. ‘He took me home,' she said quickly. ‘He's just a work friend.'

John wouldn't take his eyes off her, and she tried not to get drawn into those impossibly dark-green pools.

‘What about the house you're doing up, the one that Lord Fairfax used to own? Isabella practically told me you had sex in the attic room.'

John looked disgusted. ‘For God's sake! Teddy Barsmann has just bought it, that's who I'm working for at the moment! Isabella dropped round out of the blue one day, and asked if I'd give her a tour. I couldn't very well turn down the client's girlfriend.' John smiled grimly. ‘Although, from what I hear, she's not his only girlfriend. I'm sure they've met their match in each other.'

Catherine was feeling more thrown by the minute.

‘So you're telling me you told Isabella
nothing
about my background? About who my mother was?'

‘Catherine, do you really have such a low opinion of me?' A passing waitress heard John's raised voice and glanced over. ‘Isabella must have found out some other way, but I can assure you it wasn't through me.'

‘Why should I believe you?' she demanded, but her voice had lost some of its hard edge.

‘Because it's the truth!' John sighed in exasperation. ‘Will you give me a break? You never gave me the chance to explain. I know you've been through a tough time, but everything you blame me for is entirely in your imagination.'

Suddenly, Catherine felt hugely embarrassed. She knew he was right. She had so little trust in people that she had jumped the gun and automatically thought the worst. As she looked at John, she saw for the first time how weary he looked, the fine worry lines at his temples. ‘Maybe I should be the one apologizing,' she admitted. ‘I shouldn't have just assumed . . .' She started again. ‘I guess I've got so little confidence in myself it was easier to believe her over you.' She shook her head helplessly, trying to take it all in. ‘How did Isabella find out, John? I should have listened to my friend Fiona. She warned me Isabella was a troublemaker.' Catherine gave a small smile. ‘I just didn't realize how much trouble.'

John reached over and put his hand over hers. She let it stay there.

‘These past weeks must have been terrible for you,' he said gently. ‘When I saw the papers and the news . . .' He smiled at her. ‘I turned up at your apartment, you know, the day the story broke in the papers. You looked amazing in that red dress.'

Catherine looked shocked. ‘You were there? I didn't see you!'

John smiled wryly. ‘I was keeping a low profile. I wanted to see you, but I honestly didn't know what reaction I'd get.'

‘Probably an even worse one than I gave you earlier.' She gave him a small smile. ‘Sorry for hitting you.'

He grinned crookedly. ‘Nothing worse than you've done to my heart already.'

His comment hung heavy in the air. Catherine looked at him. ‘I've left my job. I've got a book deal to write my life story.' She shook her head in disbelief. ‘I still can't believe it. The thing I was most afraid of happened, and nothing but good seems to be coming out of it.'

‘I think it's a really brave thing you're doing.'

She looked thoughtful. ‘Let's see. But as well as setting the record straight, it will be a proper chance for me to say goodbye to Mum. We had so much unfinished stuff between us. I want to get it all out, otherwise I'm never going to be able to move on.'

John squeezed her hand hard. ‘She'd be very proud of you.'

Tears pricked the back of Catherine's eyes. ‘I hope so,' she whispered.

Another moment passed before John spoke. ‘Where does this leave us, Catherine?'

She sighed, trying to find the right words. ‘Oh, John. You really do mean the world to me.'

He cocked an eyebrow. ‘But?' He was smiling but his hand had clenched hers even more tightly.

Catherine hesitated, willing herself to say the words that would set their lives on different paths again. ‘I think you and I just met at the wrong time. Too much water has passed under the bridge.'

John's voice was thick with emotion. ‘Let
me
be the judge of that. Don't write me off because of the past, I've never cared about that. I want to look after you, Catherine.'

Catherine looked down at his hand wrapped over hers. ‘That's just it, John, I need to do this on my own. I'm going to have shit days, and it's not going to be pretty, and I don't want to put you through it all again. It sounds clichéd, but I need to find out who I am. I need to be
me
, not just a person who is shaped by secrets and tragedy. Once I've dealt with it all, a fresh start is the only way forward. Do you understand?'

John Milton's broad shoulders sank. He knew now that he'd lost her.

Catherine gently took her hand from beneath his and reached across to stroke his face. ‘Goodbye, John.'

His handsome features were filled with pain. ‘You don't always have to run away.'

Catherine stood up and smiled. ‘I know. And for the first time in my life, I've stopped running.'

SAFFRON WAS MEETING
Tom in a new bar in Notting Hill. It was one of those minimalist, glass-fronted places where everyone sat poised in cliques, eyes constantly on the door to see who had come in.

As she sat on a stool at the bar, Saffron wondered if it had been a good idea to meet Tom here. He was going to stick out like a sore thumb; this was the kind of place where outfit was everything. Tom had had a few days off, and the last time she'd seen him at work, he'd just sat on his glasses by accident and was sticking them back together with silver masking-tape. Saffron hoped fervently he'd managed to visit the optician's.

Twenty minutes later he still hadn't arrived. Saffron looked at her watch. This wasn't like him. Normally she would be the one who was late, and Tom would be at the bar, waiting with her vodka and cranberry. She'd called earlier to check they were still on for tonight, and his phone had gone straight through to voicemail. He hadn't called her back. The knot of anxiety growing in her stomach surprised Saffron; she never normally worried about people being late, especially Tom Fellows. She ordered another drink and got her BlackBerry out, playing with it to kill time.

A few minutes later her mobile went. Tom! But it was her mother. Saffron felt a mixture of pleasure and annoyance. Despite Babs promising to take things slowly, she had been calling Saffron almost every day. Saffron found Babs's neediness claustrophobic, but the more she backed off, the more desperate her mother became.

‘Hi, Babs.'

‘Darling! Please call me Mummy, you know how it upsets me if you don't.'

Saffron sighed.

‘Hi, Mum.' This felt so weird.

‘Where are you? It sounds very noisy.' Before Saffron had a chance to answer, Babs was off and away.

‘I'm simply
exhausted
! I've been working on this new exhibition; I swear I haven't slept in weeks. Will you come and see it with me, darling? I'd love to know what you think.'

Saffron winced, that would be a tricky one.

‘I'd love to, Babs. I mean, Mum . . .'

‘Excellent! So, where did you say you were?'

‘I didn't. I'm in a bar waiting to meet someone.'

Babs took a dramatic intake of breath. ‘Might this someone be a
gentleman
?'

‘Might be,' Saffron replied shortly. She wasn't going to get into this now. ‘I've got to go.'

‘Are you using protection?' Babs cried.

‘
What?
Look. I'm not talking to you about this! I'll call tomorrow, OK?'

‘Promise me you will, darling!'

Saffron promised and hung up. Her mother left her feeling so confused! Part of her wanted to welcome Babs back with open arms, but the other part wanted to punish her and make her feel crap, the way she herself had felt all these years. She sighed again; why weren't mother-daughter relationships ever easy?

Out of the corner of her eye, the bar door had opened, and the beautiful crowd started chattering wildly. Saffron turned to see a face and body that had graced just about every advertising board in the land. Dark hair cropped fashionably short framed the heavenly cheekbones, inky black eyes and full lips. The famous torso with wide shoulders and narrow hips was shown off casually in a thin silk John Smedley jumper, and dark jeans. He wore no jewellery, apart from a discreet silver identity bracelet glinting at his wrist – sexy, stylish but not overdone.

‘Oh my God, it's Rex Sullivan!' cried the rail-thin woman next to Saffron.

Saffron gasped. Rex Sullivan! Put simply, he was the hottest male model the industry had seen since nineties phenomenon Markus Schenkenberg. Armani, Calvin Klein, Ralph Lauren . . . everyone wanted a piece of the British-born model.

Despite the stares in his direction, it seemed Rex Sullivan was heading straight for Saffron. Confused, she looked around to see if Kate Moss or some other model was sitting behind her.

She couldn't believe it when he stopped right in front of her. Up close, his looks were magnetic, but there wasn't a hint of arrogance. In fact, an almost shy expression crossed the model's face. Hang on, those eyelashes looked familiar . . .

‘Er, hi there,' said Tom Fellows.

Saffron's mouth fell open.

‘Tom?'

‘Sorry I'm late, they took ages in the hairdressers.'

‘But how . . . what?' In shocked wonder, Saffron put her hand up to touch his new haircut.

Tom looked bashful. ‘I got contacts instead, thought it was about time. And Alexander took me clothes shopping.' Saffron couldn't speak. Tom had gone the same colour as Saffron's red nail varnish. ‘What do you think?' he asked shyly.

She looked him up and down. Even his feet looked smaller, dressed as they were in a pair of elegant tan leather shoes.

‘I think, I think . . .' Saffron tried to find the right words. What she really thought was Tom Fellows looked fit as anything, but there was no way she was going to say that. ‘I think you look really nice.'

Tom looked disappointed at her lukewarm reaction. ‘Really? You don't think it's too much?'

Saffron laughed. ‘If you want the real truth, you look like Rex Sullivan's doppelgänger, and that
definitely
isn't a bad thing.'

Tom grinned. ‘I should think so, too. He is my twin brother, after all.'

Saffron nearly fell off her stool, as did the woman next to her, who was leaning over trying – and failing – to listen in. ‘Rex Sullivan is your brother?'

Tom chuckled, settling down on the seat next to her. ‘Hard to believe, isn't it? Growing up we were like two peas in a pod. Then Rex discovered girls and partying, while I was happy to stay in with my computer. He got spotted at university by a talent scout, and it all took off from there, really. Rex decided to use my mother's maiden name because he thought it sounded better.'

Saffron was seriously impressed. ‘Why didn't you ever say anything?'

Tom glanced at her. ‘Why, would it have made me cooler?'

Now it was her turn to go red. ‘That's not what I meant,' she mumbled, realizing that was exactly what she'd meant. What a shallow cow she'd been!

Tentatively, as if he were David Bellamy about to touch a rare butterfly, Tom put his hand up to one of her fake diamanté earrings.

‘I like these, they make your eyes stand out even more.'

Saffron felt her stomach flip. Suddenly, it was as though they were the only two people in the bar. Without really stopping to think what she was doing, she leaned over, and kissed Tom Fellows. His lips were surprisingly soft and warm. In fact they seemed to be getting hotter by the second. Saffron's stomach did another somersault.

‘Ooh, Julianne's not going to like that!' the woman next to them exclaimed loudly. Julianne French was a Victoria's Secret model Rex had been going out with for two years.

They both pulled back and laughed.

‘Shall we get out of here before I totally destroy my brother's love life?' chuckled Tom. ‘Julianne's got quite a temper on her.'

They stood outside just staring at each other, hands entwined. Saffron noticed Tom was breathing as heavily as she was. ‘Where shall we go next?' It was a loaded question.

Tom glanced up the road. ‘I only live round the corner.' He looked at her with liquid brown eyes. ‘I don't suppose you . . .?'

Saffron smiled saucily. ‘You bet I do.'

Somehow she managed to keep her hands off him all the way into the communal hallway of his flat. As he fumbled with the key to his front door, she pressed herself against him, her mouth searching for his.

‘Not here,' he mumbled. ‘The neighbours might see.'

‘Don't be so boring,' Saffron murmured, but moments later she was forced to eat her words. As the door shut behind them, Tom turned and slammed Saffron against the wall. She gasped with surprise and pleasure. He was suddenly wild, groaning and moaning, frenzied hands running over her breasts, across her mouth, through her hair. Tom pulled her top down, exposing Saffron's pert, bra-less breasts as his other hand moved roughly between her legs. Saffron felt completely overwhelmed and powerless.

She loved it.

‘You're an animal!' she gasped, as Tom half carried her down the corridor and kicked open another door. Saffron just had a chance to see an electric guitar leaning against the wall, and a computer in the corner, before Tom threw her down on the double bed. She lay there, watching in fascination as Tom pulled his shirt and trousers off. Saffron had a moment to reflect that it certainly was true what they said about men with big feet, before Tom advanced on her, his eyes dark with lust.

With one deft movement, he pulled her jeans and G-string off. Saffron put her arms over her head and wriggled out of her T-shirt and lay back, naked. Tom stood there looking at her for a moment, as if he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. Saffron barely registered him putting the condom on before he was on top of her again, almost crushing her with his weight; kissing, licking and caressing every inch of her body . . .