Dangerous to Know (10 page)

 

Gemma made up the bed in her spare room with fresh linen, and placed clean towels on the rail in his room. Jerome remained downstairs and she heard the deep rumble of his voice resume as he made more phone calls.

Her tasks completed, she returned to her room and threw herself down on the duvet. While her hands had been busy she had succeeded in holding back her tears. Now she was safe in the comforting familiarity of her room, she allowed them to fall unchecked.

The cold terror that clutched at her heart earlier in the evening found its release at last. Eventually, she sat upright and, still sniffing, she pulled fresh tissues from the box on the dresser. Her face appeared blotchy and red in the wardrobe mirror.

Gemma brushed her hair and removed the remains of the make-up she'd applied so carefully earlier in the evening. She changed into her pajamas and dressing gown, knotting the belt tight before heading back downstairs to tell Jerome his room was ready.

The lounge was empty when she popped her head in; she found him in the kitchen, waiting for the kettle to boil.

“I was going to bring you a cup of tea.” He peered at her face. “Are you okay?”

“Fine, just took my make-up off so my skin's probably a bit blotchy.” She lifted the tea bags down from the shelf and dropped one into each of the mugs Jerome had put ready.

He raised an eyebrow as if he didn't quite believe her, but didn't challenge her response.

“I came down to say your room's all ready. I'm going to grab an early night.” Gemma collected the milk from the fridge as Jerome poured the boiling water on to the tea bags.

“Evan is coming over quite early tomorrow, so I'll probably be gone when you get up.” He swished the tea around with a spoon before dropping the used bags into the bin.

“Do you need a key?” She wasn't certain if he meant he was leaving to stay with Nathalie or if he just had to go somewhere early and would then be back.

“Evan and Nathalie have offered to put me up.”

“Oh, yes, of course.” Part of her was disappointed that he would only be staying for a night. “You know you're welcome here for as long as you want to stay.”

“If you mean that, I'd like to take you up on it.” He stirred his tea with a thoughtful expression on his face. “When I spoke to Evan again just now, he'd already fielded half a dozen calls from the press. It would make life very difficult for Tali and Polly, especially if the press decide to focus in on them.”

Gemma understood only too well what he meant. Polly's birth mother was a well-known model and actress who liked nothing better than attempting to stir up problems for Evan and Nathalie.

“I've a spare key to the front door in that pot over there.” She pointed out a brightly painted flowerpot on the kitchen windowsill. “Take it with you tomorrow. The press aren't likely to bother you here, since they don't know me.”

“I promise this will all be settled after the debate on Saturday night.” Jerome's voice was sombre.

“Can you tell me what's going to happen?” She felt certain he had something planned.

“I can't yet. You'll have to trust me.” His clear blue eyes met hers and sweet reassurance surged through her.

“Okay.” Her voice sounded husky. “I'll see you tomorrow sometime, then?” She picked up her tea.

“Goodnight, Gemma.”

He made no move toward her like he usually did. No attempt to touch her hair or kiss her. The pain she'd felt earlier redoubled.

* * * *

She didn't hear him leave the house in the morning. She'd slept so badly she couldn't understand how she could have missed him going, but she had.

Nathalie was already at the shop when she arrived. “Oh, Gemma, tell me everything. I've been so worried and Evan keeps trying to minimize things. You know how protective he is!” She pulled Gemma into the stock room.

Gemma told her about the blaze. “I don't where he had to go this morning, though. Evan collected him and from the way he spoke last night I think it's to do with Gerald and this evidence Jerome's dug up on him.”

Nathalie sighed and drummed her fingers on the counter top. “I wanted him to stay with us, but he thought it might cause problems for Polly. I'm glad he's with you, though. I wish this debate business was over and done with. Do you think Gerald Shakespeare is behind the fire?” Worry lines creased her forehead as she looked at Gemma.

“I can't think of anyone else, but it seems like a stupid thing for a prominent businessman to do.”

“Well, I don't suppose he did it himself. From what Evan told me, that wouldn't be his style. I expect he'll have a nice water-tight alibi all nice and pat for when the police go calling.”

Gemma knew what she meant. She had a horrible feeling that Nathalie was right. All she could do was cling to the memory of Jerome gazing into her eyes and assuring her that everything would be all right.

The day didn't improve; there was no word from Evan or Jerome. At lunchtime, the seamstress who came to make the alterations to the bridal gowns brought the afternoon edition of the local paper.

Dramatic pictures of the blaze and interviews with the head of the fire service and the investigating officer covered the front page. More shocking for Gemma was the interview on the inside cover with Gerald Shakespeare.

“
Some people will go to any lengths to attract publicity for a cause. While it wouldn't be for me to suggest impropriety of any part by Mr
.
Mayer, I'm certain the police will be exploring all avenues as part of their investigation
.” Gemma read the offending quote out loud for Nathalie's benefit.

“Can you believe the nerve of the man?” Nathalie shook her head in outrage.

“Sounds like he's trying to deflect the police attention away from himself,” Gemma mused.

“Or trying to pin the blaze on Jerome to make it look as if he's the one who's dishonest.”

By the time she left for home, her spirits were as damp and deflated as the cold early evening mist that curled around her as she unlocked her front door. She switched on the lights and hung up her coat before walking into the kitchen.

A folded sheet of paper with her name on was next to the kettle. She opened it to see Jerome's untidy black scrawl.

Might not be back till late, don't wait up for me.

Gemma crumpled the note and dropped it in the rubbish bin.

She fixed herself some supper and wandered into the living room with her plate. Jerome's sweater lay where he'd left it on the sofa and his empty coffee mug stood on the table. Gemma sat down with her food and flicked on the TV.

A reporter broadcasting a segment from the Scottish site Gerald Shakespeare had developed quickly piqued her interest. From the report that followed it became clear to Gemma that it wasn't only Jerome who'd sniffed out something underhand about Shakespeare Industries' business practices.

She clicked the TV off an hour later with half of her supper congealing uneaten on her plate. Gerald must have set fire to Jerome's house in desperation. He had to know the net had started to close in around him.

She stretched out her hand to stroke Jerome's sweater. Touching the soft male scented fabric made her feel closer to him. The sooner the debate was over, the better. Who knew what Gerald might be capable of if his empire came tumbling down? Maybe the police would be able to arrest him and Jerome would be safe.

Then Jerome would go back to his life and she would go back to– what? Her nice safe job at the bridal shop, going to the gym every Tuesday and visiting her mother every second Saturday.

Gemma had to face facts. She'd blown it with Jerome. She was the one who had wanted to be friends because she had been afraid to trust her heart. The misery she felt now was entirely her own making. Even if he hadn't offered her anything more than a brief affair, who knew where that would have led?

In her heart she sensed that she had meant more to him than that and perhaps, given a chance, the embers of love would have been fanned into a warm and sustaining flame. Instead they had flickered and been snuffed out before even having a chance to take hold.

* * * *

Jerome's bedroom door was still ajar when she woke in the morning. He hadn't made it home. When she reached the shop, Nathalie told her Evan hadn't returned either. Instead, he'd called to say they had gone off to the Lake District early and would be there until after the debate.

“Did they tell you anything else?” Gemma asked.

Nathalie shook her head. “Only that we weren't to worry.” She rolled her eyes. “As if that's likely.”

Gemma wished Jerome had called her. The fact that he hadn't underlined even more clearly her status in his life.

“Are you going to go to the debate?” Nathalie's question broke into her thoughts.

“I don't think so. I'll watch it on TV.”

Nathalie raised her eyebrows but refrained from commenting on Gemma's decision.

* * * *

By the time the day of the debate dawned, Gemma was a bundle of nerves. She hadn't heard anything directly from Jerome since he'd left and Nathalie had only received snatched calls from Evan.

By mid-morning her head ached with the tension of not knowing how Jerome was.

“You should be there.” Nathalie's comment startled her as she priced the bridal shoes.

“It's too late.” Why hadn't she accepted his invitation to attend the debate in the first place?

“Rubbish!”

Gemma looked up, surprised by the force in her friend's voice.

“If you love my brother half as much as I think you do, take my car and go to him.” Nathalie slid her keys across the shop counter.

“But I'll never get in.” Hope flooded into her heart even as she protested at Nathalie's suggestion.

“I'll get hold of Evan somehow and tell him you're on your way.” Her friend held her gaze.

Gemma snatched up the keys and hugged her tight. She felt too emotional to put her feelings into words.

Nathalie's car was parked in front of the shop. Gemma grabbed her coat from the staff room and after giving her another hug, she set off for the Lakes.

She forced herself to focus on the traffic as she set off along the motorway. Her nerves jangled as she took the turn into the heart of the Lake District. She didn't even know if Jerome would want to see her.

The police had closed some of the roads around the town hall where the debate was to be held. Crowds of people walked toward the town centre. Gemma could see she would have to travel the rest of the way on foot.

She abandoned Nathalie's car on a double yellow line and hoped her friend would forgive her if it got towed. Her pulse sounded like thunder in her ears as she tried to jostle her way through the throngs of people outside the hall.

“Ticket, please.” A burly man in a security vest halted her at the door with a hand on her shoulder.

“Please, I haven't a ticket. Call Evan Davies, he'll vouch for me.” She held her breath and prayed he'd believe her.

The man hesitated, then pulled a walkie-talkie from a shoulder holster. “What's your name?”

“Gemma. Gemma Andrews.” She bit her lip while he checked her out.

“Wait here. He'll come and get you.”

The minutes felt like hours until Evan emerged from a small side door and beckoned her to follow him.

“Tali lent me her car and I raced to get here, but I had to leave it on some double yellow lines because there were no parking spaces left and-”

“Whoa. It's okay, what matters is that you're here. The place is heaving. I've found a space for you at the back of the hall.”

Gemma followed him along a narrow corridor, picking her way over the electric cables that twisted like snakes across the floor.

“How's Jerome?”

“Ask him yourself. You've got about five minutes before we go on air.”

Gemma's heart slammed against her ribs and her stomach did a back flip as they rounded a corner and she was face-to-face with the man she'd been so desperate to see.

“Gemma.” Jerome's mouth fell open in surprise and he hurried over to her.

She fought for air as she gazed into his eyes. “I had to come.” Her voice was husky.

“Thank you.” He took her hands in his and her fingers trembled at his touch.

“Jerome, you're wanted on stage.” A woman with a clipboard called him from a doorway on the far side of the room.

Gemma stretched up on her tiptoes and kissed him gently on his lips, relishing the feel of his mouth against hers, no matter how brief. “For luck.” Thoughts of him saying those same words to her once before lingered in her memory.

“Jerome, you're needed
now
,” the woman called out again, her voice sounding impatient.

“Promise me you'll be here at the end,” Jerome asked.

She nodded as the clipboard woman looked at her watch again and signaled frantically at Jerome.

“Go on,” Gemma urged.

She blinked back a tear as he hurried away from her with so much left unsaid between them.

“I'll show you where to stand.” Evan rejoined her and led her out into the main hall. Every seat had been filled and a buzz of expectant chatter filled the air as Gemma squeezed her way through the top of the stall area to stand with some of the TV crew at the back.

The debate opened with a film of Maggie's Fell. The invited audience was a mix of local people, officials from various departments, seasoned wildlife campaigners and councilors. Gemma wondered how any of those watching the clip could fail to be moved by the desolate beauty of the mountain.

Gerald was then invited by the veteran broadcaster refereeing the debate to open his case for developing the land. A series of glossy promotional slides followed, with promises of affordable housing for local people, sympathetic development and eco-friendly jobs.

Gemma wanted to snarl every time Gerald offered the audience his fake smile. She clutched the back of the seat in front of her so tightly her knuckles hurt as she focused on Gerald's arguments. It worried her that some of the people around her were nodding in agreement with the man.

After that, Jerome opened his case for the protection of the land. He showed the wealth of wildlife that lived on the mountain before moving to Gerald's Scottish project and several of Gerald's other projects around the world. The beachside development that had wiped out a coral reef in the Bahamas, a Canadian project that had devastated a small town, and an Australian development which was under investigation by that country's government.

Gemma cheered out loud when the large screen above the debate platform showed close-ups of Gerald's face turning claret as Jerome nailed home each of his points.

When the presentations were done, the floor was opened up to the audience for questions. Gerald had clearly planted supporters among the audience to ask questions designed to show him in a positive light. The mood of the crowd had swung, however, after Jerome's presentation and Gerald was soon taking a verbal pasting.

The people standing next to Gemma moved a little closer to her, squashing her against a stone pillar. She was about to protest until she realized uniformed police officers had entered the auditorium and taken up positions around the hall.

The presenter in charge of the debate called a halt to the questions and summarized the main points that Jerome and Gerald had made. Gemma held her breath as the audience was asked to vote using the handheld electronic devices which had been placed ready under each seat.

She watched as the big screen showed close-ups first of Jerome, his face impassive, and then of Gerald, still flushed like a turkey cock. Finally the results came up as a colored bar chart. Ninety-five per cent of the audience had sided with Jerome. Gemma guessed the other five per cent to be Gerald's stooges.

The presenter closed the debate and she waited with elation for the cameras to stop filming. Instead, as the audience began to file from the hall, she realized that some were being stopped at the door by the police.

She tried to make her way forward towards the stage, desperate to get to Jerome, but the crush of people meant she was headed against the flow. There was something happening on the podium. She struggled to see over the heads of the crowd.

Police officers had climbed on to the stage and Gerald appeared to have suffered some kind of collapse. She looked frantically for Jerome. Evan was with the TV presenter and she saw a paramedic with a bag run from the back of the stage.

She fought her way through, her breath coming in ragged gasps of fear as she looked for Jerome.

“Gemma.” He appeared in front of her, pulling her into his arms when she would have faltered with relief, knowing now that Gerald hadn't attacked him.

“I couldn't see you. I thought something had happened when the police arrived and I saw the paramedics.”

He pulled her close against him, shielding her with his body from the ebb and flow of the people going past them. “Come with me.”

She allowed him to lead her by the hand through a small door and into a quiet corridor. He stood facing her, both her hands still enclosed in his.

“I'm fine. Gerald is having some kind of angina attack. The police were here to arrest him. I suppose the stress must have brought it on. Either that or he's milking it to get lenient treatment.”

The door swung open and Gerald was escorted past them in handcuffs accompanied by a paramedic and one of the film crew.

Tension drained from her body. She hadn't realized how scared she had been for Jerome until now, when the nightmare finally seemed to be over.

“I couldn't see what had happened. I thought he might have snapped and attacked you.” She couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes, afraid of what her own gaze might reveal.

“When Evan got the call from Nathalie to say you were on your way, I didn't know what to think. It gave me hope that maybe you did have feelings for me that were more than friendship.”

She lifted her head at his words and swallowed hard.

“Gemma, ever since we met I've liked you. When it looked as if I'd lost you to Carl, I couldn't believe I'd missed my chance with you. Then, last weekend, being with you, seeing the real you, I fell in love with you, Gemma.”

Colour flew into her cheeks at his words. “But I led you on by pretending to be confident and flirty.”

“Neither of us was particularly honest at first. I led you to believe I wanted a quick fling, something temporary, because I thought that was what you wanted. I knew you'd had your heart broken by Carl. I didn't want to make it worse.”

“Then what did you want?” Hope flared within her as she finally understood.

“I want you. I love you, Gemma.”

The sincerity of his feelings was written in the depth of his eyes.

“I love you, too.” She barely managed to finish the sentence as his lips met hers and she savored the feel of his body against hers, the taste of him and the smell of his cologne as he kissed her.

“Nathalie warned me you were dangerous to know,” Gemma murmured a moment later, when he released her mouth from his.

A tiny frown knotted his brow. “You mean because of the fire and the shooting?”

Gemma shook her head and traced the faint line at the side of his mouth with her finger. “I think it was my heart that was in danger.” She kissed him gently on the lips.

Desire fired within her as he responded to her touch.

“Your heart will always be safe with me.” And he kissed her once more to seal his vow.