A Walk in the Park (21 page)

It was Sunday lunchtime when Gigi arrived at the hotel. The receptionist called Enjay's suite and he came down to meet her.

“Hey, babe.” Fresh from the shower, his white T-shirt clung to his super-toned abs and he smelled fantastic. Aware of the blonde receptionist's discreet glances in his direction, he winked at Gigi but didn't touch her. “What's up?”

In the safety of the hotel he didn't need Maz or AJ to shadow him. Gigi said, “There's something I wanted to see you about. Kind of in private.” She hesitated, because the receptionist might not be watching but she was certainly listening. “It's a business proposition. Maybe we could go to your room.”

Upstairs in the opulent cream and Wedgwood-blue suite, Enjay closed the door and said, “Let's hear it then. Fire away.”

“Right. Well, first of all, thanks for inviting us to the party last night. It was great. And you won over all the oldies, made them like you. I wasn't sure you'd manage it.”

“What can I say?” He spread his arms. “It's my modesty and charm. Gets 'em every time.”

“I brought you a thank-you present.”

“Yeah?” His dark eyes gleamed. “Sounds good to me. I don't get too many presents from other people.”

“Hold out your hand.”

“Better still. I hope it's a Rolex.” He extended his arm.

“Sshh, you've already got one of those. I'm giving you something you don't have.” Gigi reached into her jeans pocket. “Close your eyes.”

“Yeah, right, and when I open them again, you'll have made off with all my jewelry.” But Enjay did as she asked and waited patiently until she'd finished tying the loose threads in a knot.

“OK, you can open them now.”

He did so. The gift looked pretty incongruous next to the diamond-encrusted Rolex and ornate rings, but never mind. If you can't compete in the diamond stakes, go for something different. Gigi said, “It's a friendship bracelet.”

“Hey.” Enjay's voice softened. “I know it's a friendship bracelet. This is really cool.”

Gigi watched him examine the painstakingly plaited centimeter-wide strip composed of tightly woven pink, green, and purple threads. “I made it this morning.”

“I bet it took you a while.”

“Two and a half hours.”

“You're going to see me wearing this from now on. Thank you.” He came forward, rested a hand on her shoulder, and gave her a semi-hug before stepping back. As if she were slightly contagious.

“Do you like it?”

“I like it a lot.” Enjay flashed her his lazy wolfish smile. “I'm glad I met Harry, and I'm glad I met his friends.”

“Can I say something?” Gigi mentally braced herself.

“It's a free country.”

“OK, I've been thinking. Remember the other day at the thermal baths, when you were pretty keen on me and I turned you down, told you I'd never do anything like that with you?”

“I remember.”

“Well,” said Gigi, “I've changed my mind.”

A beat of silence.

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning I've given it a
lot
of thought. And I didn't want to be one of your conquests, a pretty girl who's basically a nobody who gets slept with then forgotten about. But now I've looked at it from the other angle.” She was speaking faster and faster, the words tumbling out in an effort to make him understand. “And this is an opportunity for
me
, one of those once-in-a-lifetime things. Because how often am I going to get the chance to sleep with a world-famous rapper? It's never going to happen again, is it? And you're not going to be here for much longer. So that's it, I've decided. We should definitely do this thing. And you won't have to worry about me following you around afterward, pestering you and expecting more once it's over. We both know it's only going to be a one-off.”

More silence. Finally Enjay said, “So as far as you're concerned, I'd be an experience you could tick off your to-do list.”

“Exactly. This way we both get what we want!”

“OK. You said this was an opportunity that was never going to happen again.” He shook his head slowly. “I got news for you, babe. It ain't going to happen at all.”

“Why not?”

“You changed your mind. Well, I changed mine too.” He gazed steadily at her. “Does your daddy know you're here?”

“No, he doesn't. Anyway, what are you, scared of him? I wasn't planning on telling him about any of this, if that's what's bothering you.”

“How about your mom?”

He was scared. This was definitely what was putting him off. Gigi said, “She doesn't know either. Look, a girl I met at the gym is having a barbecue this afternoon. She invited me along. That's where I was going to be spending the day and that's where everyone thinks I am, at a barbecue on a farm in Lansdown.” She took a step toward him, lowered her voice, and added seductively, “But I'd much rather be here with you.”

“OK, now listen to me.” Enjay placed his hands on her shoulders but stayed at arm's length. “Thanks, but I do have some scruples. Not many, but a few. And I'm gonna keep that promise I made to your daddy.”

“Oh but—”

“No arguments. And I'm doing this for your benefit.” His voice softened. “In a couple of days we'll be leaving for London. I'll be hitting the clubs and I'll be hit on by bad girls, y'know what I'm saying? They're the ones I'll be sleeping with. Believe me, it's better this way.”

He was looking genuinely regretful, which only made the rejection worse. Gigi said stubbornly, “I don't see why.”

“Hey, you're a good girl. Bad girls are more my scene.”

“I could be a bad girl.” She wasn't going to beg, but being turned down was definitely a frustrating thing to happen.

Except Enjay was already shaking his head again, half smiling and regarding her as if she were a small child robustly announcing that she was going to be an astronaut when she grew up.

“You're too nice to be a bad girl. I can't take you up on it, but I do appreciate the offer. And the friendship bracelet too. Look, you go off to your friend's barbecue and have a great time.” He gave her a brief hug, then led her to the door. “Bye.”

Gigi said in a small voice, “I feel a bit stupid now.”

“Hey, darlin', you mustn't. You're worth more than that.” The glint was back in his eyes as he flashed her that trademark wicked smile. “Look on it as a lucky escape.”

***

Lara was ready and waiting when Flynn arrived at the house to pick her up. The plan had been for Gigi to go along with him to a wine-tasting demo at a harborside event in Bristol. But when she'd mentioned on Friday about the invitation to the barbecue, Lara hadn't had the heart to let her miss it. If she was going to properly settle in Bath, Gigi needed to make more friends and extend her social circle. Lara had volunteered to take her place at the wine-tasting.

She could do it. It would be fine. Maybe the more time she spent with Flynn, the easier things would become; the novelty of those out-of-the-blue adrenaline rushes might wear off.

With any luck.

“All OK?” said Flynn as she jumped into the car.

“Perfect.”

“Did Gigi explain what you'll be doing?”

“Of course.” Lara smoothed down her skirt and fastened the seat belt. “You're the one running the show, being the clever expert. All I have to do is waft around being nice to people and pouring little bits of wine into glasses. It's practically my two favorite hobbies.”

“Is Gigi still at home?”

“No, she left early to go to the barbecue. She was really looking forward to it,” said Lara. “Couldn't wait.”

“And what's Evie doing today?”

“Ah well, I put my master plan into action. I told Harry that Evie loved golf but didn't have anyone to play with. And I told Evie that Harry was
dying
for a game of golf but hated going on his own.” Lara tried not to look pleased with herself and failed. “So basically I explained that they'd be doing each other a massive favor and having a brilliant day out at the same time.
Then
”—she played her trump card—“they're going to come back to the house and Evie's going to cook a roast dinner, and if anything's going to impress Harry, it'll be her roast dinner.”

Flynn gave her a look. “You really think that'll work?”

“Listen, the first time she cooked one for me I nearly married her myself.”

“But Evie lives in Bath. Harry lives in Keswick.”

“God, you're such a pessimist. If they're right for each other,” said Lara, “they'll find a way. It's called moving house.”

“Simple as that?”

“Simple as that.”

“Joel called me this morning. He still wants Evie back.”

“So he can cheat on her again?
Please!
He had his chance and he blew it. She deserves better,” Lara announced. “And I'm going to make sure she gets it.”

As they headed out of the city, Flynn said drily, “Whether she wants you to or not.”

It had taken Harry and Evie all of three minutes to discover they'd been on the receiving end of one of Lara's oh-so-subtle set-ups. Thankfully, Evie had discovered, it hadn't mattered at all. Playing a round of golf, unlike dancing, didn't involve physical contact. They both genuinely loved the game. The course at Castle Combe, ten miles outside Bath and belonging to the Manor House Hotel, was brilliantly designed and set in stunning rolling countryside. And the sun had stayed out; who could ask for more?

Well, apart from coming in under par and birdieing the eighteenth to win the game, obviously.

“That was great,” said Harry as they headed back into Bath.

“It was.” Chatting to him had been effortless; they'd had a truly enjoyable afternoon. There wasn't an iota of physical attraction between them and that hadn't mattered either. Lara would be disappointed, but that wasn't their problem. You could want it to happen but you couldn't make it happen; if the connection didn't exist, you couldn't magic it up out of thin air.

At least now, though, they could joke about it.

“When Lara comes home,” said Harry, “we should tell her we've got engaged.”

“And give each other nicknames. Binky and Squeaky,” said Evie.

“Bunny and Booboo.”

“Putter and Hacker.”

“That's so unromantic. Wiggle and Fluffy.”

Evie said, “OK, but I want to be Wiggle.”

When they arrived back at the house Harry said, “We could go out for something to eat. You don't have to cook.”

The joint of beef had already been marinating overnight. “I like doing it. Here.” Evie tore open a bag of potatoes. “And here's a peeler. You can help.”

“Lara says you do the best roast dinners.”

“She's right. They're my specialty.” Evie began finely chopping red onions for the gravy. “Actually, I'm rubbish at everything else.”

Harry was efficient with a peeler, which was good to see. She grimaced as the house phone began to ring. “Could you get that? I've got onion juice on my hands. It's probably Lara reminding me to do extra parsnips.”

“Hello?” Harry had such a lovely polite manner on the phone. Evie smiled and watched him listening to the caller. “Oh yes, she's just here. Who shall I say is calling, please?”

See? So sweet. He really was like a character from the nineteen fifties. And now he was covering the receiver, turning to her, and saying, “It's for you. Ethan.”

The blade of the vegetable knife missed Evie's thumb by a whisker.

“Could you just hold on,” Harry continued into the receiver. “She'll be with you in a moment.” He reached for the roll of paper towels and passed her a couple of sheets so she could clean her oniony hands.

“Hello, Ethan.” Her voice had gone all stiff; she hadn't meant to sound quite so much like a disapproving head teacher. But how ironic that he should finally be calling her now.

“Hi… um, hello.” He sounded wrong-footed too. “How are you? Sorry I didn't phone before. I've been pretty busy, you know how things are…”

Pretty
busy
shouting
at
hapless
foreign
employees, you mean.

Evie didn't say it out loud. Lara might have launched into a vitriolic attack but she wasn't the type. Instead she said, “Yes, busy. Me too.”

Evidently unnerved by her cool tone, Ethan cleared his throat and said, “So I was, erm, wondering if you'd like to meet up again…?”

She'd liked him so much. The chemistry that was so singularly lacking between her and Harry had, against all odds, blossomed during the course of that first evening with Ethan. On that
only
evening.

And how amazingly perfect it had seemed…

Until last night when he'd revealed his true colors.

“I don't think so,” Evie said curtly. “In fact, no.”

“Oh.” Bizarrely, Ethan sounded disappointed. “Well, OK.” As if attempting to make conversation, he went on, “I saw you at the hotel yesterday, at the party in the ballroom. Went in to see how things were going, and there you were. I would've come over and said hello, but you were dancing with some guy…”

“I was. He's here now. That was him answering the phone.”

“Ah. Right. I see.” Now he sounded resigned. “Well, maybe see you around then. Good luck with everything.”

Evie swallowed; if she hadn't discovered what he was really like last night, she would've been thrilled he'd called now. It just went to show, you might think you knew what someone was like, but you really didn't. Silently congratulating herself on a lucky escape, she said, “Thanks. Good-bye.”

There, done. She ended the call and went back to the onions. It was sad in one way, empowering in another.

“Was that the ex-boyfriend?” said Harry. “Joel?”

“No, someone else. Seemed nice, but it turned out he wasn't after all. Surprise, surprise.” Evie chopped and diced at a rate of knots. “Shame, but there you go.”

“Ah well, his loss. Right, I've done the potatoes. Are we parboiling them before roasting?”

Harry, bless him, was already reaching for the kettle. Why oh why couldn't she fancy the pants off him? Filled with admiration, Evie said, “There's something about a man who knows his way around a kitchen. You're practically perfect.”

“I know.” He looked modest, then pulled a face. “But I'd be more perfect if I didn't dance like a giraffe.”

***

Dinner was almost ready, everything smelled fantastic, and Harry was frying zucchini in butter, flipping them in the pan like an expert. Evie took the sizzling beef joint out of the oven, leaving it to rest on the side while she got on with making the gravy.

The doorbell went and Harry said, “Expecting visitors?”

“No, it's probably just Lara being discreet. Warning us she's back, in case we need to make ourselves presentable.”

He looked amused. “Maybe we should go upstairs and open the bedroom window, yell down at her to come back in an hour.”

“She'd be so happy.” Evie went to answer the door as the bell shrilled again. “And we'd never hear the end of it; she'd demand
all
the credit.”

“Hurry back, Wiggle,” Harry called after her.

Evie trilled back, “Will do, Fluffy. Missing you already!”

Then she opened the door and found Joel on the doorstep. Frowning.

“Who's Fluffy?”

Which might have been quite funny in theory, but was less so when it was actually happening.

“No one. It was just a joke.” Evie couldn't help it; her breath still caught in her throat at the sight of her ex-fiancé—compared with Ethan and Harry, he was a Greek god. “Joel, what are you doing here?”

Joel shook his head and swayed slightly, and she realized he'd been Sunday-afternoon drinking. “I had to come and see you, because I love you. Evie, Evie, I told you before I won't do any of that bad stuff again. That's a promise.” He paused to sniff the air. “Are you cooking?”

“Yes.”

“Smells fantastic. Can I come in?”

“No.” Evie shook her head for added emphasis.

“Why not? Because you've got your new boyfriend in there? Ha, I knew it.” Joel smiled his rueful crooked smile when she hesitated. “And I know who it is too. Ethan McEnery, the one who owns the Ellison. Emily told me that's the one who you were having dinner with at Brown's. I'm right, aren't I? So he's here and you're cooking a romantic dinner for him, and that's why you don't want me to come in.”

“And again,” said Evie, “no. Ethan isn't here.”

“So let me into the house then! I need to talk to you!”

She could smell the alcohol on his breath, knew he'd spent the last few hours drowning his sorrows in his favorite wine bar. “Still no.”

“I think he's in there and you're trying to protect him.” As Joel said it, they both heard the creak of the kitchen door. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again as Harry appeared at Evie's side.

“He's really not here,” Harry said pleasantly. “I am.”

“Who are you? Another boyfriend?
Oh
.” Joel looked shocked. “You're…
Fluffy
.”

Harry inclined his head in polite agreement. “And you must be Joel. Nice to meet you.”

“Look, no offense, but can I just say something?” Evidently more drunk than Evie'd thought, Joel turned to her and stage-whispered, “We're not exactly talking oil paintings here, are we? You might be putting yourself out there and getting some attention, but so far neither of them's been as good-looking as me.”

Other men might have chosen to take offense at this remark. Harry simply said, “I prefer to get by on personality.”

“Evie, Evie, I love you, you can do better than him,” Joel begged. “You could have
me
.”

She heaved a sigh. “This is crazy. How did you get here?”

“Taxi. It's gone now,” he added as Evie peered past him in the vain hope that the cab might still be lurking somewhere in the street.

“OK, so we'll just have to call you another one.” She spun round, went back into the hall, grabbed the cordless house phone, and returned.

“…but you don't love her as much as I do,” Joel was insisting to Harry. “You
can't
.”

“Look, shush, stop saying stuff like that. I don't want to hear it.” Evie held up a hand for silence and found the first taxi company in her address book. “Hello, yes, how quickly can you get a car to Arlington Road…?”

Who knew that Sunday afternoons were such a tricky time to find a cab? Thirty minutes was too long to wait. So was forty minutes. The third taxi firm wasn't even bothering to pick up its phone. And all the time she was trying, Joel was rattling on about how miserable he'd been without her and how he'd learned his lesson and would never ever be naughty again.

If only she could have shut the front door and left him to it, but Evie knew Joel well enough to know he'd just keep on ringing the doorbell. Nor, thanks to the Merlot they'd cracked open an hour ago, could she give him a lift home herself.

“This is so
stupid
.” She hung up again, exasperated. “Why aren't they answering? Bloody taxi companies.”

“I'm quite hungry,” Joel said helpfully. “Why don't you just invite me to dinner?”

“You're not having dinner with us!” Evie's voice rose. “I just want you to go!”

There was a rustling in the bushes, then Jacqueline from next door popped her head over the wall dividing her garden from theirs.

“Hello? Only me! Look, I'm really not being a nosy neighbor but I couldn't help overhearing what's going on.”

Everyone had turned to stare at her. Joel frowned and said, “Who are you?”

“Jacqueline Cumiskey.” Her dark eyes were bright, her manner friendly. “And you are…?”

“I'm Joel.” He gestured to indicate the others. “This is Evie, the love of my life. And Harry somebody-or-other, who definitely isn't.”

“So I gathered. Anyway, I'm just off out to visit my mother and I wondered if you'd like a lift somewhere? So long as it's not too far out of my way.” Jacqueline pulled a face. “I mean, not Manchester or anything.”

“That would be perfect.” Evie exhaled with relief. “Thanks so much, you're a star. He just needs dropping off at his flat in Bannerdown…”

“No problem,” Jacqueline said cheerfully. She waved her car keys at Joel. “Come on then, let's go.”

“What if I want to go to Manchester?” Joel protested.

“You don't.” Evie was firm. “Bye.”

They stood together on the doorstep and watched Joel climb into the passenger seat of Jacqueline's lime-green Fiesta. When it had pulled away, they headed back inside the house.

“You're popular,” said Harry.

“Not really.” Evie sighed. “It's not that much fun being popular with the wrong people.”

“Hey, cheer up. You're doing really well.”

He was so nice. “I'm not. I'm a walking disaster. Still, at least we have roast potatoes.”

“Followed by Scrabble,” Harry reminded her.

“Let's see if Lara's on her way back.” Evie sent a quick text: “Dinner's ready—how soon will you be home?”

By the time the plates were lined up, her mobile buzzed with Lara's reply: “Not before ten, we're still in Bristol. Save some for me? Have fun! xxx”

It was only six thirty. Evie held up the phone to show him. “She's not going to be back until ten.”

“Fine by me,” Harry said easily. “Lara doesn't like Scrabble. That means more games for us.”

“Don't expect to win,” Evie warned him. “I'm good, you know.”

There was a glint in Harry's eye as he surveyed her. “I'm better.”