Dangerous to Know (9 page)

 

“And you don't know where Jerome went?” Nathalie straightened up from where she had been leaning on the shop counter while she listened to Gemma's story.

“No, we parked up in the town center and he left me to browse around the shops. He was gone for about three-quarters of an hour.” Gemma frowned.

Nathalie sighed as she moved around the counter to give Gemma a hug. “It sounds like you certainly had an exciting time. Typical Jerome, in fact.”

“I'm worried about this debate. It's not that I don't have any faith in Jerome, but this Gerald Shakespeare is really slimy.”

Nathalie walked away and rearranged the folds of an ivory silk bridal gown displayed on a podium in the center of the shop. “I know what you mean, but in a way I'm more worried about J winning rather than losing. I mean, if this Shakespeare man was behind the shooting and the damage to the camping stuff, as you suspect, it doesn't sound like he'd be a good loser. I dread to think of how he'd vent his feelings.”

The same thought had already occurred to Gemma. Jerome had dropped her off at home the previous afternoon and since then she'd heard nothing from him. Although, to be fair, he hadn't said he'd call her or asked to see her again. When he'd returned to the car after his mystery errand, he hadn't spoken much at all on the journey home. In a way that had been a relief as it had given her chance to think through some of her feelings for him.

“Do you want to take some time off at the weekend to go with him to the debate?” Nathalie looked up from where she sat on the floor, artistically draping the hem of the gown over a satin slipper.

Gemma shrugged and adjusted one of the necklaces on the display. “I don't know.”

Nathalie's busy fingers stilled. “Did something happen between you two?” she asked, an anxious frown on her pretty face.

“Yes and no. I think I'm just a bit confused at the moment.” Gemma squinted at the display and moved one of the micro spotlights so the diamante droppers of the jewelry sparkled more obviously.

“Confused? In what way?”

“I don't know. I really like Jerome, and I thought after what happened with Carl that just having some fun would be good for me, you know?”

“But now you want something more?” Nathalie's forehead creased in concern.

“Maybe.” Gemma nibbled her lower lip as she thought over the question that had troubled her all the previous night.

Nathalie eased herself up from the floor in one fluid movement. “Gemma, you know Jerome and I fight all the time, but I do know he likes you a lot. He seemed different when he spoke about you than about other women he's dated.”

“I don't know.”

“Would you like me to talk to him?” Nathalie offered.

Gemma folded her arms and wandered over to stare out of the shop window at the rain trickling slowly down the glass. “That's kind of you, Tali, but I think I need to work this out for myself.”

Nathalie joined her. “I know. I just feel as if I should be doing something to help you.”

The arrival of customers into the shop put an end to the conversation. Gemma thought over what Nathalie had said as she helped a woman find a tiara and veil to match her dress.

Maybe she should take the time off this weekend. After all, Jerome
had
asked her to go to the debate with him. But how would she ever know if they could build a relationship of any kind if she kept blowing hot and cold? She should learn a lesson from her disastrous break-up with Carl and try harder for what she wanted.

No one else had ever made her feel the way she did when she was with Jerome - not even Carl, and she had been convinced she'd been ready to marry him.

She wrapped her customer's tiara carefully in tissue paper and placed it in a box. As she rang up the sale, she made polite conversation with her customer, but the whole time her mind kept running over what she should do about Jerome. She said goodbye to the customer and cleared away the boxes she had pulled out.

“You could just give him a call.” Nathalie's customer had gone into the fitting room.

Gemma frowned at her friend. “And say what, exactly?”

“I don't know. Say you'll go to the debate with him or ask him round for supper. You'll think of something.” Nathalie disappeared back to the fitting room to assist her customer.

Gemma looked at the sleek black phone next to the till. Before she could change her mind she flipped open Nathalie's index book and dialed Jerome's number.

“Mayer,” he answered in an authoritative voice.

Gemma swallowed. “Um, it's me. Gemma.” She was relieved he couldn't see her face. Her cheeks felt like two glowing balls of fire.

“Gemma! Is everything all right?”

“Fine, fine. You?” She cringed as she spoke. How lame and feeble did she sound?

“Yeah, just working on the photos we took at the lakes.”

“Great.”

Silence hummed between them as Gemma tried to think of what she wanted to say.

“So, Can I change your mind and persuade you to come to the debate with me?” The deep sexy timbre of his voice sent a shiver along her spine.

“Maybe.” Darn, why hadn't she just said yes? She'd intended to - it was why she'd rung him, for heaven's sake. What had happened to the girl who'd confidently volunteered to go camping with him?

“Have dinner with me tonight and I'll try to convince you.” His voice dipped lower and her knees felt weak.

“Okay.” There, she'd done it.

“I'll call for you at seven.”

“See you later.” Her voice came out as a squeak and she heard the rumble of his laughter in her ear as he hung up.

* * * *

Gemma changed her outfit three times before her doorbell told her Jerome had arrived. She took a last nervous look at her reflection and hurried downstairs.

Jerome let out a low whistle of admiration when she opened the front door and her face heated.

“You look fantastic.” His eyes gleamed in the light from her hall as she stepped aside to allow him inside.

“Thank you. I'll get my coat.” She resisted the urge to smooth the skirt of her little black dress as she snagged her jacket from its hook. “I wasn't sure where we were going, so I didn't know what to wear.”

Jerome leaned a shoulder against the lounge doorframe, watching her as she fussed with the collar on her coat. “I'm keeping a low profile at the moment. The news about the debate seems to have stirred up quite the media frenzy. I guess it must be a quiet week or something news-wise. So I hope you don't mind, but I thought I'd cook for us at my cottage instead of going out.”

Gemma's fingers stilled on the bottom button of her jacket. “That sounds lovely. But, you can cook, right?”

Jerome grinned at her as she realized how rude her comment had sounded.

“I can cook,” he assured her.

She locked her front door behind her, glad of the cool night air on her warm face. The rain from earlier in the day had finally stopped, leaving a damp autumnal evening with the hint of frost in the air.

To her surprise, Jerome hadn't brought his own car.

“I borrowed this from Barnaby, since my car is a bit distinctive,” he explained as they pulled away.

“Have you been having lots of problems?” It was uncharacteristic of Jerome to be concerned about the press. Her instincts told her there had been more things going on than Jerome was prepared to admit.

“A bit more hate mail and a dead chicken on my doorstep this morning.” He avoided her gaze as he took the road leading out of the town.

“A dead
what
?” She couldn't believe her ears.

“Yep. A chicken. With its throat cut and a note attached. Probably more of Gerald's moronic henchmen's work.”

Gemma groped around for an appropriate response. “Did you go to the police? Jerome, this is frightening stuff!” She couldn't believe he sounded so matter-of-fact about something so serious.

“Don't worry, I did. They came quite quickly.”

In the distance a pinkish glow illuminated a strand of trees in the night sky. “What's that?” Gemma leaned forward in her seat to peer through the windscreen.

Jerome swore, hitting the accelerator hard, and Gemma was thrown back into her seat.

Within seconds they pulled to a halt next to a large red fire engine and a police car. Jerome left the driver's door open in his haste to see what had happened. The acrid stench of smoke hung heavy in the air while the noise of the fire and the emergency radios crackled all around them.

Gemma undid her seatbelt, tangling it in her hurry to join Jerome. She gasped in horror when she realized why the fire engine was there. Jerome's cottage was well ablaze as the firemen struggled to control the flames with the water hose.

“What happened?” Gemma caught up with Jerome as he stood talking to the police.

“Keep back, miss.” The policeman held out his arm to prevent them from getting closer to the house.

“My studio!” Jerome's hands balled into fists at his sides.

“The roof's about to go!” A warning shout went up among the firefighters as an almighty crack filled the air.

Gemma's hand flew to her mouth in horror as the flames licked greedily through the pan tiles. A few seconds later the ridge of the roof gave way, leaving room for the fire to burn through the hole and up into the night sky.

“It's a good thing you weren't at home, sir.” The policeman shook his head.

“Who called for the fire engines?” Gemma asked. She couldn't see any neighboring properties that could have alerted them.

“An anonymous call was received at headquarters at nineteen ten hours, miss.”

“Just after I left to pick you up,” Jerome said to her.

“Have you lost everything?” Her heart swelled at the bleakness etched across his face.

“Looks that way.”

Gemma slipped her arms around his waist and held him close as he buried his face in her hair. She felt helpless, but stroked his back as he recovered some of his composure.

There was nothing to be gained by staying, so after leaving his details with the fire chief and the police, they returned to the car.

“What are you going to do? You need to call your insurers and let your family know you're okay. This will be bound to make the press.” Gemma couldn't even begin to imagine how it must feel to see your home and everything you possessed go up in flames. “You're welcome to stay with me.”

Jerome's shoulders sagged low and he had an air of defeat which didn't sit well on him. Gemma reached out to squeeze his hand in reassurance.

“Come on, let's go back to my house. We should leave anyway. The news reporters will be here in a minute and you know what they're like.”

“Okay.” He gave her a grim smile and started the engine.

Further along the road they passed several unmarked cars all headed towards the cottage.

“It looks as if we left just in time,” Jerome remarked. The steely glint was back in his eye and his lips were thinned.

“Why would Gerald go to these kinds of lengths?” Gemma kneaded her temples with her fingers as she tried to make sense of it all.

“That's what I'm asking myself. But the more I dig around, the more suspicious stuff I'm finding. I turned a file over to the fraud squad this morning that detailed some of Gerald's activities.”

“Do you think that might have been what the arsonists wanted to destroy? The evidence you'd found?”

Jerome frowned. “Maybe.” He pulled up outside her front door.

Gemma picked up her bag. “Come in and I'll fix us some supper while you call your family.” She opened the car door.

Jerome followed her to the house. “Gemma, this is very kind of you, but I'm worried I might be placing you in danger if I stay here.” His face looked troubled.

“I don't think Gerald will risk anything else. He waited till you were out of the cottage before the fire started. I think it was whatever you'd discovered that he was out to destroy, not you, yourself.”

Jerome stepped into the hall behind her. “I need to make a lot of calls.”

“Help yourself to the phone. I've pizza in the freezer, I'll put the oven on while you use the phone.” She dropped her keys on to the hall table and took off her coat.

“Thanks, Gemma.” He swept his hand through his hair. “I'm going to nail Gerald Shakespeare if it's the last thing I do.”

“Don't say things like that, even as a joke. Tonight was very scary. I don't want-” She paused and licked lips that had dried with nerves.

Jerome's eyes darkened. “What don't you want?”

Her heart stilled. She couldn't do this, not now. He'd just lost everything he owned in the world. Right now he needed her to be his friend, not someone who'd lay some heavy relationship stuff on him.

“I don't want anything else to happen. I know I said I wanted a more exciting life, but this is all a bit
too
exciting.” She edged away toward the door. “I'll get the supper on.”

Gemma scuttled inside the kitchen as if her life depended on it and closed the door behind her. She leaned against the wood and blew out a breath. She could hear Jerome moving around in the lounge, followed by the low murmur of his voice as he made his calls.

She took her time pulling the pizza from the freezer and putting it in the oven. Fortunately, she had some salad stuff and a bottle of white wine in the fridge. If Jerome was about to be staying at her home, then she would need a little fortification.

Once the small dinette table was set and the oven timer had pinged, she went through to the lounge to fetch Jerome. From the hunched set of his shoulders and the frown of concentration on his face she guessed the conversation must be important. He signaled to her to pass him a pen and pad.

Gemma hurried across to a drawer and passed him what he needed. He took them from her and began to scribble illegible notes all over the page while he listened to whoever was on the other end of the line. She wasn't sure if she should stay or go, but then Jerome finished the conversation and replaced the handset.

“I didn't mean to interrupt. I came to let you know that supper was ready.”

He tore his page of notes from the pad and, after folding them, tucked them inside the breast pocket of his shirt.

“That's okay. I just had an interesting conversation with the guy I sent the computer files about Gerald to this morning.” Jerome leaned back on the sofa, spreading his arms expansively along the top. “I think we might have enough on him.”

Gemma wished she could be as confident. She turned on the portable TV in her kitchen so they could watch the late news as they ate.

“They got there fast,” Gemma remarked as a short video clip of the fire appeared.

“The police said there'll be an investigation of how it got started. From the speed of the blaze and the amount of damage they think someone broke in and spilled petrol over everything.” Jerome's knuckles whitened around the handle of his fork.

“At least you weren't inside.” Her heart bumped painfully against her ribs. She couldn't imagine how she would feel if he'd been injured. Or, even worse, killed. All because he'd stood up for something he believed in.

“I called Nathalie and Evan. They promised to let everyone else know. I'm glad Mum and Dad are away at the moment.” He sighed and picked up his glass of wine.

“What will you do for clothes and things?” Gemma asked as she used the remote to turn off the TV.

“Evan's going to drop off a bag tomorrow to tide me over until I can go shopping. Good job we're the same size.”

“Did you lose the car, too?” Gemma wondered if his beloved vehicle had gone up in flames along with the house.

Jerome shook his head. “That was one good thing. When I borrowed Barnaby's old heap I left my car at his place, so the garage at the cottage was empty.” He pushed his empty plate away with a sigh.

Gemma picked up the crockery and carried it across to the dishwasher. “I'll make up the bed in the spare room. I haven't anything suitable for you to sleep in, though.”

He grinned at her as her face burnt. “That's okay, I don't wear pajamas.”

A picture of him wearing just a towel leapt into her head. “Very funny.”

He picked up his empty glass and took it over to her. “I guess you might not have realized, but the more serious something is, the more I tend to joke around about it.” He stared into her eyes.

She held her breath, wondering if his feelings for her were the same as hers for him.

“Thank you for everything tonight, Gemma. You're a good friend.”

The air escaped from her lungs, leaving behind a sharp pain and a desolate feeling in its place.

“You're welcome.” She managed a false, tight smile and hurried from the room and up the stairs before her tears betrayed her heartbreak at being just his ‘friend'.