Dangerous to Know (8 page)

 

Jerome halted at the side of his car. The clearing was completely dark and a light breeze skittered dry, old leaves across the grass. Gemma dropped her backpack and the extra pack she had carried on to the ground with a sigh.

“Phew, I swear that track just grew another mile longer.”

“I've unlocked the car. Hop in while I load the bags.”

He stowed the luggage into the boot of the car and stashed his camera equipment securely behind the driver's seat. Gemma was already ensconced in the passenger seat with her belt buckled.

“It's a long drive home,” she said when he climbed in beside her.

“Good job I booked us in at a hotel, then. If we hurry we can get there before the restaurant closes.” Jerome started the engine and turned on the headlights.

“Hotel?”

Jerome concentrated on steering down the pitch-black track.

“I felt bad about everything that's happened this weekend and I thought at least one night in a nice hotel might make it up to you a little bit.”

“Oh.”

He wished he could peep at her face to see her expression. Her voice sounded flat, as if spending time at a hotel with him wasn't exactly top of her list of things to do.

Distracted for a second by his thoughts, the car hit a pothole. Jerome wrestled with the wheel to bring them back on to a smoother part of the track as Gemma's shoulder bumped against his.

“Sorry, we'll be on the main road again in a minute.”

She didn't reply and he wondered what was on her mind. Perhaps she thought this weekend had been one monumental mistake. The irony was that he had asked her along for a bit of company and some fun. Instead, the more time he'd spent with Gemma the more he'd come to realize she was just the kind of girl he needed. Maybe
the
girl…

Cats-eyes glimmered in the centre of the main road ahead as another car swept by, lighting up the hillside with its main beam. Jerome halted the car at the junction ostensibly so he could check the traffic, but in reality it gave him a chance to look at Gemma.

Her small face looked solemn in the darkness.

“I can drive you straight home if that's what you'd prefer.” It had been stupid to book the hotel. He should have guessed she'd rather go home.

“No, it's okay. It's sensible to start back fresh in the morning.”

Sensible.
Disappointment clawed at him. He preferred the Gemma who had put being sensible to one side. When she'd behaved as if she wanted to be with him as much as he wanted to be with her.

“The hotel is at the head of the valley. The owner is an old friend of mine.”

“That's nice.” Gemma yawned. “Sorry, I guess all the walking and fresh air caught up with me.”

He chanced another quick peep at her. She did look tired. Her face had paled and her eyelids were drooping. He should've been more thoughtful and not have taken her on such a long hike.

“Here's the turn.” The hotel was a large converted country house at the top of a long winding drive. He found its air of comfortable but faded elegance relaxing.

“I feel a bit scruffy to be arriving somewhere like this,” Gemma remarked as he brought the car to a halt near the front entrance.

“You look fine,” he assured her and climbed out to collect the bags containing their clothes from the boot.

Gemma smoothed her hair with her hands and waited for him by the glass-fronted porch.

“Come on, we'll check in.” He pushed the heavy glass door open and stood back to allow Gemma through.

A log fire crackled in the stone fireplace inside the entrance hall and as Jerome checked in, Gemma stood warming her hands. Even with his back to her, Jerome felt acutely aware of her presence.

The receptionist assigned them to adjoining rooms on the second floor. He crossed the polished parquet floor to where Gemma waited, her attention fixed on the flickering flames.

“I've got the keys. Do you want to go and freshen up before we eat?”

“Oh boy, do I! I feel really grubby.”

He wasn't fooled by the chirpy tone of her voice. On the way up to the room he watched her rest her head against the polished metal wall of the elevator.

“I'll get the door,” Jerome said when they reached Gemma's room. He dropped her bag down on the floor as she flopped on to the bed with a sigh.

“Oh, this is so nice. I liked camping, but real beds are so much comfier.”

* * * *

Gemma closed her eyes and reveled in the pocket-sprung comfort of the hotel bed. Maybe if she rested for a few seconds she'd feel up to going back downstairs with Jerome and making polite conversation over dinner.

In the distance she thought she could hear water running. Jerome had probably gone to his own room to shower. She wriggled on the soft down comforter. A few more minutes and she'd make a move to the bathroom herself.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty.”

The edge of the bed dipped and Gemma opened her eyes to see Jerome sitting next to her.

“You look all in. I ran you a bath and ordered you some supper from room service. It'll be here in thirty minutes.” He stretched out a hand and stroked her hair. “I'll see you at breakfast.”

“What about you?” Her heart swelled with gratitude at his thoughtfulness.

“It's a nice offer but your tub's not that big.”

She frowned at him. He'd deliberately misinterpreted what she'd said.

“I ordered room service for my room too.” He rose to his feet.

“You probably think I'm a real wimp.” Gemma sat up and smoothed her curls from where his hand had caressed her hair.

Jerome smiled and handed her a hotel bathrobe. “Go jump into the bath while the water's still warm.”

She stared up at him for a moment, her pulse racing at the tenderness in his eyes. “Thank you. I will.”

“Don't worry, tempted though I am to offer to stay and help you into the tub, I'm going to let you get an early night.”

Gemma hugged the fluffy white cotton bathrobe he'd given her closer to her chest. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

His lips brushed her hair and he turned and left before she could gather her wits enough to respond.

Slowly, she got up from the bed and headed for the bathroom. Gemma swallowed the lump in her throat when she saw the bath filled with foaming water. Fat yellow wax candles were alight on the vanity unit and the warm air smelt of the rose petals sprinkled on the surface of the foam.

She dashed the back of her hand across her eyes. Being around Jerome was many things, but predictable wasn't one of them. Gemma placed the robe on the chair next to the bath and undressed.

The water felt soothing and luxurious against her skin as she settled back amongst the bubbles. This time tomorrow she would be back in her own home and Jerome would be busy preparing for a live debate against Gerald Shakespeare, so it was nice to enjoy this decadent luxury while she had the chance.

Gemma yawned. She couldn't stay in the bath too long or she would fall asleep. She had just extinguished the candles and wrapped herself inside the bathrobe when her supper arrived.

She took the tray from the bellboy and carried it across to her bed. Once settled back against the pillows she clicked the remote for the television and took a bite of her sandwich. The local news was just ending with a round up.

A picture of Jerome flashed up on the screen, and Gemma coughed on her food. The perky blonde newsreader announced there was to be a live televised debate about the future of Maggie's Fell next Saturday. A video clip of Gerald looking concerned appeared.

She listened open-mouthed as Gerald assured his interviewer of his green credentials and of his desire to bring affordable housing and employment to the area. The clip ended and the news gave way to the weather forecast. Gemma switched off the TV and put her sandwich back down on the plate.

Her bad feelings about the debate had intensified after seeing the clip. Shakespeare was so slippery that even though she knew Jerome should have no problems winning the public over, she couldn't help but worry nonetheless. Gerald had sounded so smug, like he had some ace up his sleeve.

She wondered if Jerome had seen the piece. After a quick drink from her rapidly cooling hot chocolate, she tightened the belt on her robe and picked up her room key. Gemma hurried the few short steps along the corridor knocking on the door of Jerome's room before she could change her mind.

“Gemma?” He opened the door, naked except for a towel slung low over his hips.

She felt her body heat. “Oh, I'm sorry. I should have just called you on the phone. I'll go back to my room.”

He raked a hand through his damp hair and stepped back. “No, come in. Is something wrong?”

“I just saw Gerald on the TV.” Gemma clutched the neck of her bathrobe, pulling the edges closer together as she entered Jerome's room. She tried not to stare as he strolled back across the room to click off his own television.

It had been a stupid idea to come to his room. Unable to resist, she drank in the sight of his bare torso, the fine sprinkling of dark hair on his chest and the toned muscles of his arms.

“I caught the end of it. He acted pretty fast to let the television station know about it.” Jerome scratched his chin and Gemma noticed he'd shaved.

“You mean it wasn't you who called the TV people?” Her bad feeling about the debate intensified. Gerald had to be feeling very confident if he had tipped off the media.

Jerome paced up and down beside the bed. “No. What else did they say in the report? I only caught the very last part.”

“They showed your picture and said you were a distinguished wildlife photographer and animal rights campaigner. Then they talked about Maggie's Fell before showing Gerald's clip. He gave a spiel about jobs and affordable housing.” Gemma wished Jerome would put on his robe. It was far too distracting for her tastes seeing him in just a towel.

“He has to be up to something.” Jerome scowled.

“Well, we have until next weekend to find out what it is.”

“Thanks, Gemma.” He paused in his pacing.

She fumbled behind her for the door handle to escape back to her own room. “That's okay. I thought you should know.”

He walked over and reached behind her to open the door. His bare chest grazed the front of her robe and she gave an involuntary gasp at the contact. Jerome's eyes darkened with desire and before she knew it his mouth had closed in on hers.

Her body responded as each nerve snapped to attention. She wrapped her arms around him. Her fingers explored the damp curls of his hair in the nape of his neck while her tongue tasted the hot maleness of his lips.

He groaned her name against her mouth and her pulse speeded up. “Gemma, if you don't want to take this any further then you're going to have to leave.”

Dazed, she opened her eyes to see her need for him reflected in his expression. She wriggled free and found the door slightly ajar.

“I should go.” She slipped into the corridor, glad of the opportunity to flee back to her own room before she made an even bigger fool of herself.

So much for the new bold, brave Gemma. She had to face the truth. She was still the same Gemma she'd always been. The problem was, Jerome was still the same too. He'd never pretended to be anything any different. She was the one who'd tried to kid him that she'd changed. Not that he'd been fooled, as she recalled.

* * * *

The buzz of the bedside phone cut into her sleep.

“Rise and shine. Breakfast in thirty minutes.” Jerome's deep voice sounded in her ear, obliterating the dream she'd been enjoying which had featured him all too prominently.

“I'll meet you downstairs.” She replaced the receiver and rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

He was at the bottom of the carved oak stairs as she walked down to meet him. Warmth spread through her body from the tips of her toes to the roots of her hair as she remembered the events of the previous night.

“Did you sleep all right?”

She glanced at him to see if there was a hidden implication in his question but his face looked innocent as he waited for her to reply.

“Fine, thanks.”

She followed him through doors set with Art Deco stained glass into a large airy dining room.

The maître d' greeted Jerome like an old friend. He showed them to a table next to one of the large picture windows affording a superb view of the lake.

Gemma took her seat opposite Jerome as a smiling waitress brought over a silver pot of tea and a folded copy of the morning paper.

“Are you looking forward to returning to civilization? Back to the wedding dresses and anxious brides?” Jerome picked up the teapot and poured them both a cup of tea.

“I enjoy my job, but apart from being shot at and having my tent sabotaged, I've enjoyed this weekend, too. I'd forgotten how much I liked being outdoors. Seeing the animals so close up was fantastic.”

The corner of his mouth tilted as he added milk to the cups. “It's been exciting, all right.”

The waitress returned to take their breakfast order. When she'd gone back to the kitchen Gemma resumed the conversation while she stirred her tea.

“Have you had any more thoughts about the debate?”

Jerome shook his head. “When I get home I'll do some digging. Will you come with me to the debate?”

The teaspoon slipped through her fingers to clatter off the saucer and on to the tablecloth. “Um, I don't know. I mean, Nathalie might not be able to spare me for another weekend so quickly.”

She longed to say yes, but her feelings for him were in such a whirl, she didn't know if she could spend more time with him without getting her feelings hurt even more than they were already. Not to mention that she felt as if she were leading him on by trying to be someone she really wasn't.

The waitress returned with two steaming bowls of porridge. Jerome thanked her and picked up his spoon to sprinkle sugar on to the creamy crust.

“Jerome Mayer!”

Gemma looked up to see who had disturbed their breakfast. A pretty brunette clutching a notepad and pen stood next to the table.

“I'm Kay Langford, I write for the
Lake and Fell Gazette
. I'm sorry to interrupt you, but I wondered if I could ask you a few questions about the upcoming debate with Mr. Shakespeare?”

Jerome extended his hand to the reporter. Gemma prodded at her porridge as the girl pulled a chair up to the table to join them.

“Can we get you some tea?” Gemma asked as the girl unwound her fluffy scarf from around her neck.

“Oh, no, I really won't take up too much of your time.”

Gemma returned to her breakfast as Jerome exchanged pleasantries with the reporter.

“I've heard you and Mr. Shakespeare will be having a live debate regarding the future of the land at Maggie's Fell on Saturday?” the girl asked.

“That's correct.” Jerome took a spoon of porridge.

“I wonder if you could tell our readers the main points behind your opposition to Mr. Shakespeare's plans.”

“I believe most of them are fairly well-known. Mr. Shakespeare's history with the kind of project he's proposing for Maggie's Fell is a matter of public record.”

Gemma wanted to cheer. Jerome was a master at interviews and the reporter seemed to be taken with him. Okay, so
that
part she wasn't so comfortable with. In fact, she was downright jealous.

“But Mr. Shakespeare does have a record for bringing jobs to an area, doesn't he? I believe the Blue House project in Scotland brought nearly two hundred jobs to a very deprived area.” The reporter's pen was poised over her pad.

“Most of the jobs went to outside migrant workers and were temporary. Only thirty jobs were permanent. The damage to the landscape and the wildlife was irreparable.” Jerome finished his breakfast and pushed his empty dish away.

“So you believe Mr. Shakespeare's pledges to protect the environment around the sensitive area's of the Fell are false?”

“I think we have yet to see the fine detail of his plans.”

The reporter jotted Jerome's answer in her notebook and stood up. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Mayer. I look forward to the debate.”

Gemma watched as Jerome rose and shook hands once more with the girl. Jealousy stabbing her ribs like a knife as the reporter blushed and giggled at something Jerome murmured in her ear.

The girl left and Jerome sat back down.

“Did you want anything else to eat or shall we get on our way?” Gemma crumpled her napkin on to the table.

Jerome picked up the teapot and poured himself another cup. “Are you in a hurry?”

“No, not at all.” She forced herself to sound unconcerned.

“Good, because there's somewhere I need to go on the way home.”