Double Fault (3 page)

He stared at her.  “Is that what you really think or is it some sort of excuse?”

Before she could answer there was a tap on the door.  Standing up abruptly, Pierce answered it.  A girl in a pink overall carried in a tray with mugs, a coffee jug and cream set out neatly on a white cloth.  At a growl from Pierce she placed it on the corner of the desk and then, with an anxious glance in his direction, scurried from the room.  Kerry forced a light laugh.

“Still as gracious as ever I see.  Haven’t you learned yet that an occasional thank you takes you a long way?”

For a moment she thought she had gone too far as the dark wings of his eyebrows drew together, but then he laughed.  It was a sharp, humorless sound and his smile didn’t reach the cool blue of his eyes, but it deflected the tension between them.

He poured coffee into the two mugs. “Well! Well!  You’ve changed in more than appearance haven’t you? Obviously the tennis circuit stifled the real Kerry Farrow.  I had no idea your ditsy image was a cover up for the professional woman straining to get out.”

She winced; knowing how ridiculous she must seem but determined to make him believe tennis had driven her away.  Pierce’s memories were of a slender twenty-year-old with long straight hair that hung like a silk curtain halfway down her back.  A girl whose almond shaped nails were always polished and who only ever wore designer clothes, from the jeans stretched to the limit across an impudent butt, to the full-on glamour of a Versace evening dress.  In those days even her belt would have cost twice as much as the whole outfit she was wearing now. She felt a momentary stab of self-pity as she smoothed the front of her cheap chain store skirt. It prompted an angry answer.

“Well at least this Kerry Farrow is more productive than the sort of accessory you demanded.  There are more important things in life than boosting the male ego.”

“A sharp tongue too, but it wasn’t all bad was it? I seem to remember we had one or two mutual interests. ” He drained his mug and replaced it on the tray.  Then he walked across the room and pulled her to her feet.  “Remember this?”

She saw the kiss coming and tried to turn her head, drooping her eyelids against the heady nearness of his body, trying not to drown in the familiar musky scent of his skin.  He laughed aloud, his teeth gleaming white against the golden tan of his face, and then his lips were pinned to hers, his tongue honey-sweet as it probed the moisture of her mouth.

She resisted, her teeth clenched together, her palms pressing hard against the muscled smoothness of his chest, but he merely shifted position, unbalancing her, so that her fiercely resistant hands clutched instinctively at his shirt.  Then he pulled back slightly and looked deep into her eyes before his lips began to move provocatively across her mouth and undid all her resolve.  And as she began to respond, her arms sliding inexorably upwards towards the curls at the nape of his neck, her back arching as he pulled her closer, his taunting laughter was slowly replaced by something else, something so familiar that their three years apart might never have been.  She felt it in the taut strength of his arms and the racing tattoo of his heart as it pounded against her breast.

For a moment she was powerless against the force of a treacherous body that was welcoming him back with a need that set each nerve on fire as his caressing fingers pressed long forgotten triggers of desire.  Then, with a cry of horror, she broke free, pulling away from his arms so violently he was taken unaware and let her go.  They faced one another, flushed and frustrated.

“So you haven’t forgotten. Paper plates and napkins haven’t quite taken over your life then Kerry,” Pierce was almost contemplative as he spoke, holding himself in check as she walked unsteadily towards the door. 

“No more than tennis took over yours,” she aimed her punches low, wanting to upset him, ready to do and say anything that would help her to forget how she had felt when he kissed her.  She willed herself to remember why she had walked out on him.

“Tennis is not my life any more,” he spoke slowly and deliberately.  “I’m more than a travelling ball machine now Kerry.  I’ve a home and a business that allows me to work more or less regular hours.  All that’s missing is the girl.”

She turned to face him then, her eyes huge with pain despite the whiplash of her tongue.  “A commodity that was never in short supply as I remember it, so I won’t wish you luck.”

“You don’t need to. Your luck always travels with me,” he fingered a chain at his throat, pulling a small medallion up through the open neck of his polo shirt. 

A small topaz set in gold winked across at her, reminding her of the day she had bought it in a small village high in the mountains of
Italy
.  She’d noticed it when they were window-shopping because it was engraved with a small scorpion, and Pierce had laughed when she told him it was his birthstone. Then she’d dragged him into the shop and bought it with the last of her money, not knowing that within weeks her father would stop her allowance.

He had been unaccountably touched when she fastened it around his neck.  He had pulled her close and held her so tightly she had protested. Afterwards he’d always worn it, saying it brought him luck.

Kerry gave him a bitter look as she remembered the memento he had given her on that same stolen holiday. It had been one of those halcyon times that had occurred far too infrequently in their relationship. With Pierce between tournaments they had managed to leave the tennis world behind them for a few days to grab a short time alone in a tiny secluded bungalow surrounded by olive groves.  It had been a magical time as they lazed by their own private pool and played house for seven glorious days, shutting out the pressurized world of a sport that would soon reclaim him. It had also been the time that immature, scatterbrained Kerry Farrow had forgotten to take her contraceptive pills.  What an irresponsible child she had been.

“I didn’t realize you were so sentimental,” she stamped on her memories with vitriol.  “I thought you would have discarded it years ago.  After all it’s not worth much.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Pierce caught her hand as she reached again for the door, his eyes an unfathomable navy blue.  “It’s worth a great deal to me.”

Chapter Two

His hand on her arm evoked too many memories and churned up already disturbed emotions.  Hastily she moved away.

“Stop playing with me Pierce and give me my car keys.” She didn’t believe the lucky charm routine for a moment.  He was just piqued by her attitude.  She’d seen him in action far too often to believe the intent look and velvet phrase meant a thing. It was a purely reflex reaction, a matter of pride that nobody should leave his presence without succumbing to the well-known Simon charm.  She had seen him indulge it all over the world, seen hardened television journalists melt at his smile, seen female fans wait for hours for his autograph.  She had even fallen for it herself and how! But that was all behind her now and all she wanted to do was to get away from him and go back to the life she was beginning to make for herself.

“I told you, your car won’t start,” he answered her as if she were a particularly annoying child as he let his hand drop to his side.  “Anyway what’s the hurry?  The least you can do is stay and have dinner with me and tell me what it is that you’ve been doing since we were together.”

Their eyes met, his blue and calculating, hers grey and stormy.  She knew what he was thinking; that in two or three hours he could win her round and put her back into his bed for as long as he wanted her. A tiny thread of warning sounded in her subconscious telling her he was probably right, but it didn’t matter because she wasn’t going to give him the chance to find out.  She wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice.

“No thank you,” her refusal was formal and polite.  “I haven’t finished work for the day and I’m busy this evening.”

“Tomorrow then?” His expression sharpened as he searched her face, trying to decipher her reluctance.

“Sorry,” she gritted her teeth as she attempted a disinterested shrug.  “The fact is I’m pretty tied up these days what with one thing and another.”

And that isn’t a lie she told herself as she gave him an unblinking stare.  What with looking after the twins and cooking for
Melanie’s Kitchen
she hadn’t a spare minute to call her own.  From the moment Ben and Lauren woke her at six every morning, to the time her head hit the pillow around midnight, she rarely stopped working.  She fitted shopping and cooking into their nursery and nap times as much as possible, saving the inevitable housework and laundry until they were in bed in the evening.  It meant she was often on the go for eighteen hours with hardly a break, and if the twins were ill, as they had been this past week with fretful colds, then her five or six hours of precious sleep dwindled alarmingly, leaving her pale and hollow eyed. She knew she was too thin as well, so that most of her clothes hung on her and did little to enhance any remaining curves.  In fact she couldn’t think of one single reason for Pierce to pursue her, and after glaring at her for several seconds, he apparently felt the same.

“In that case let’s see if the mechanic has finished with your car,” anger choked his voice as he held open the door and waited for her to precede him.

They didn’t speak as they crossed the car park under a roiling mass of rain clouds. The mechanic working on her car stood up as they reached him and began to pack away his tools. She gave a sigh of relief. At least it was mended, so now she could ask for a bill she probably couldn’t afford, and leave. Her hopes were short-lived however, because when he saw her, the man gave an apologetic shrug.

“The head gasket’s a goner. I’ll have to tow it back to the garage.”

Kerry’s heart plummeted.  It sounded expensive, far too expensive for her meager resources if she and the twins were to eat well until the end of the month.

“Are you sure? I mean couldn’t it be something…a bit…smaller?” She hurried forward and peered into the intricacies of the open bonnet.

“Cheaper you mean,” he chuckled as he wiped his hands on a strip of oily rag.  “Afraid not.  And your tires are near the legal limit too.  You need to trade this one in and start again.”

“But I’ve only had it for a few months. The man who sold it to me said it was extremely reliable with years of wear in it,” Kerry wailed, forgetting about Pierce as she concentrated on her car.  How on earth was she going to manage without transport and how was she going to pay for a new head gasket.

“A private sale,” the mechanic shook his head sorrowfully.  “You’ve been taken for a ride sweetheart. I see it all the time. Now do you want me to patch it up or don’t you?”

“I suppose you’ll have to,” she sighed, searching in her bag for a scrap of paper.  “Here’s my name and telephone number. Let me know when it’s ready to be collected.”

He pocketed her hastily scribbled details with a nod and then started whistling as he unhitched the rope from his tow truck.  The shrill noise grated on Kerry.  He had no right to sound so happy when her world was collapsing around her.  That car had taken everything she had left in the bank and it was her one material donation to
Melanie’s Kitchen.
Mel had provided everything else from the initial financial outlay to a new van with a company logo to impress clients.  All Kerry had done was buy an old estate car to cope with the bulk shopping and to transport prepared food to Mel’s apartment when her friend didn’t have time to collect it.  That and her cooking skills were all she had to offer while on the debit side she had the twins constantly demanding her attention, interrupting phone calls, even spoiling food left on the kitchen counter if she turned her back for a moment.

“You look frozen,” Pierce’s voice, close to her ear, brought her attention back to the cold wind whipping across the tarmac and for the first time she realized she was shivering. 

“I am,” she acknowledged the damp winter weather with a grimace.  “This blouse was not designed with windy car parks in mind.”

The expression in Pierce’s eyes as he looked down at her reminded her that her blouse was not really designed at all. Instead it resembled something particularly unattractive that might have been left over from her school days.  She raised her chin.  He could think what he liked.  Designer labels cost money better spent on car repairs.  She pulled out her cell phone, hoping there was enough credit left to call Mel’s father.

“I’ll wait in reception while I arrange for someone to collect me and all the boxes.” She hoped desperately that George had finished his Good Samaritan act by now so she wouldn’t have to order a taxi.

“Don’t be any more of a damn fool than you can help Kerry,” Pierce’s over-tested patience finally gave way as they retraced their steps across the car park.  “I’ll take you home or back to your work base, whichever you want, assuming you can bear to stay in my company for another hour or so.”

“But that’s ridiculous,” she forced herself to ignore his sarcastic reference to her bolting act three years ago. “There’s no need for you do that when I can easily ask a friend to help?”

He pushed open the door and motioned her inside. “I’m not doing it out of the kindness of my heart. I’m doing it because I’m curious. Curious about whatever took you away from me at such speed three years ago.  And curious about whatever it is that’s got you behaving like a cat on hot bricks every time you look at me.”