Pole Position (2 page)

When I moved to the States five years ago, I had my future mapped out. I didn’t expect to be back in England, and living with my parents again. It was only a temporary measure until I figured out the next move, though. Europe beckoned. And really, it made sense to wait until the divorce was final and I knew how much it was going to cost me.

No matter how short-term, living with Mum breathing down my neck every day was hard work. I was pushing thirty, yet she treated me like a teenager. I missed having my own place. I was supposed to be shopping for her birthday present, but instead I was peering through the window of the real estate agent.

The weather suited my mood. Gloomy. Cumberley in the rain was dismal.

My hometown had grown and changed almost beyond recognition. A new bypass took the heavy traffic and a neat, pedestrianized walkway crisscrossed the streets. Cafés had sprouted everywhere, some trying for continental ambience by putting a few tables on the pavement. They wouldn’t do much business today.

It wasn’t a good day for wandering. I’d get a birthday present and head to the gym, my sanctuary.

Books were always a safe option. To my relief the bookshop was still where I remembered it, and doing good business judging by the number of people inside.

As I drifted round the shelves, unsure where to look, I saw a face I recognized. Like the facelift Cumberley had undergone, this girl was familiar to me, yet I couldn’t quite place her.

She said hello and asked if she could help me, while smiling mischievously, probably waiting for me to remember her.

I frowned, and then grinned in astonishment. “Anita?” I asked. It couldn’t be.

“Hello again.”

I stared at her. I’d realized when I saw her on Sunday morning she wasn’t the teenager I’d first thought. The other day, wearing a damp T-shirt that hugged every curve, it became apparent she was actually a young woman. Today, I revised that to a beautiful young woman.

Her thick, blonde hair was pulled back into a braid, and she wore a plain black sweater and skirt. On someone older, it would have looked severe, but her honey-colored skin glowed in contrast. Her brown eyes danced with amusement as I gaped. I spoke quickly to cover my surprise.

“You look different every time I see you.”

“I can’t really turn up for my day job in jodhpurs.”

Was she teasing me? Or flirting? I was used to that. I cast my mind back to our brief conversation at the stables.

“How did you get on at the show?”

She pulled a face. “Not brilliantly this time. Sam was full of beans and not paying attention. He’s still young though, and not very experienced.”

Like his owner
.

Anita had an innocence, an inexperienced freshness that felt like a balm to my jaded soul.

She smiled, and I remembered how she’d reacted when I shook her hand “So”—she gave me a friendly look—”can I help you find anything?”

A sense of being young and carefree again
?

“It’s my mum’s birthday. She’s into gardening, and I wondered if there were any books you could recommend?”

“That’s easy.” She led me to a display of stacked books, selected one, and passed it across to me. Our fingers brushed together for a brief moment, and a surge of excitement rippled through me. Her eyebrows flickered in surprise, but she recovered quickly.

“This is new, so I doubt she’ll already have it. It’s all about famous gardens open to the public, so it might give her ideas about places to visit. It’s a popular choice.”

I flicked through it, barely aware of the content. I wasn’t even sure if I held it the right way up. “It’s fine, I’ll take it.”

She beamed. “Would you like it gift-wrapped?”

I’d like you gift-wrapped.

My mind shot off on a tangent, while my voice struggled to stay under control. What on earth was the matter with me? I’d sworn off women for the moment. Even delicious young women.

It wouldn’t hurt to chat for a few minutes, and it wasn’t as though I had anything else to do.

I said yes to gift-wrapping, and then tried to keep her attention by asking about local history books, something I’d been meaning to look at for a while.

“We normally have more, but we’re making space for our Back to School display. If there’s anything in particular you’re looking for, I could look in the stockroom for you.”

She gazed up at me, and I felt an overwhelming desire to run my fingers through her hair. Taking a quick breath, I tried to speak casually. “I’m not really sure what I want. I’m doing some research on a racetrack that used to be round here somewhere, and it’s proving elusive to find any references to it.”

“Oh, I know the one.” Her face lit up. “It was on the road to Manchester, but I think there’s a housing estate there now. I remember my dad talking about it. He’s really interested in local history.”

I chatted with her about Cumberley for a couple of minutes, an excellent distraction to an otherwise dull day. I really didn’t feel like going home yet. “I wouldn’t mind picking your brains a bit more. I don’t suppose you’d have lunch with me? Go to a pub or something?”

If I thought her face had been alight earlier, she now positively glowed. Then, a wariness flashed across her features, and she stepped back a fraction.
Damn
, she was almost certainly going to say no. Pride nudged me to turn on the charm. “Hey, it’s no biggie. We could just have a coffee if that would be easier, I’d really like to hear what you know about the old town.”

She smiled shyly at me. “I can do lunch, as long as it’s quick.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “I get a break in thirty minutes, should I meet you somewhere?”

We agreed on the pub down the street, and I walked away. I wondered what the hell I was doing. If I just wanted to get laid, she was the complete opposite of what I’d go for. I’d been with enough women to recognize when they wanted a quick fuck as opposed to something more, and Anita screamed relationship material.

After the way Susie had fucked me over, I needed my head examined if I even
thought
about getting involved again.

Having plucked up the courage to say yes, I wanted to hug myself. After Rob, I didn’t think I’d ever be able to trust a guy again, but I couldn’t be afraid forever. Colette thought I was just shy, and kept mentioning boys I might like. I envied her confidence. I should think of lunch with Jon as baby steps. It wouldn’t go any further, I mean, how could it?

For the next half hour, I argued with myself about whether or not I should go. It wasn’t fair to stand him up, and it wasn’t a date. He wanted to know the local history. I’d tell him all I knew, where to go for more, and that would be the end of it. A wistful part of me longed for something else, but I squashed those thoughts right down. I’d tried that with Rob. Never again.

Colette came back from lunch and caught me applying a fresh coat of lip-gloss. “It’s pouring down outside,” she said. “Are you going far?”

I debated whether to tell her or not. Decided not to. After all, Jon might get bored after five minutes, so I didn’t want to make a big thing about it. “Just a few errands to run.”

I glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Colette was one of life’s beauties. She was tiny, yet perfectly formed, and as Irish as they came, with a dark—almost black—urchin haircut, green eyes, and a pale, unblemished complexion. Even though she had men falling over themselves to be with her, she stayed ruthless about not getting involved. To her, life was one long party, and I loved her enthusiasm.

The Fox & Grapes pub was not far up the street, and I had my hooded raincoat to keep me dry. I’d underestimated the weather, though. The rain hammered down and even with the hood up, my face got wet. I hurtled into the busy pub feeling like a drowned rat.

Jon stood by the window, probably watching my progress down the street. At least he was here. Part of me wondered if he’d suddenly find something better to do than meet me. I gave him a beaming smile as I slipped out of my coat, and wondered what to do with it, as it dripped steadily onto the floor.

He grinned back at me, took the wet garment, and carefully draped it over a stool in front of the blazing fire.

“It’s August, and they’ve lit the fire already.” I was surprised, but then again, it had been a wet and miserable summer so far.

I noticed him gazing at me intently, and I put a hand to my face. “What’s wrong? Do I have a smudge on my nose or something?”

“No.” His lips tugged upward, and then evened out as though he was repressing a smile. “It’s a little rude to ask, but I just wondered how old you are? I mean, are you old enough to have a drink in the pub?”

I laughed, completely disarmed. “I’m actually twenty-two, so yes. I’m well old enough to have a drink if I feel inclined.”

“That’s a relief; I don’t want to get into trouble.” He nodded toward my coat, gently steaming in the heat. “You look like a teenager in that thing.” He hitched his stool closer to mine as someone tried to squeeze past us. “What do you fancy for lunch? The toasted sandwiches look good.”

They were the pub specialty, and my usual choice. “They are. I’ll have a cheese and ham, please, with a fresh orange juice.” I dug into my pocket for some money, but he waved it away.

“It’s okay, I’ll get them.” He disappeared to the bar, while I tried to tidy my hair in the window reflection. Even with my braid, I still looked disheveled. Oh lord, he’d thought I was still a child. If I’d wanted confirmation he didn’t see me as a date, that would have been it. I should have been relieved, but part of me was disappointed.

He soon returned with our drinks and I thanked him. “That was quick. Normally it takes ages to get served in here.”

“Do you come here often?”

I giggled over my juice. “If you don’t mind my saying, that’s a bit of a corny line.”

He smiled back. God, if I’d thought him to be good looking before, he was devastating now.

“I’ve been working abroad for the past few years. I’m out of practice.”

“The girls on the yard were wildly envious of me. They tell me you’re a race car driver.”

He quirked his eyebrows at me. “What else did they say?”

“Not much. They were staggered I didn’t recognize you. I don’t know anything about motor racing I’m afraid. Apparently, you’re famous?”

Was it my imagination, or did he look relieved? He shrugged. “Fame can be overrated. I’ve been in the States for the last five years, but I’ve come back to Britain for this season. I’ve been lucky, that’s all. I’m doing an exciting job and one I always dreamed of.”

We swapped stories. I told him about my parents, now happily running a Bed & Breakfast in Anglesey following Dad’s early retirement. Jon told me about his father, how he’d set up a chain of garages importing American cars, and now owned a company that developed race engines. They were the main sponsors of Jon’s racing career, and when he wasn’t on the track, he worked for his dad as an engineer. He talked about the travel back and forth to the Houston plant, which was building their newest engine, and how transatlantic travel lost its appeal after the first few trips.

Jon told me how he aimed for the Formula 1 Grand Prix before he got too old. His age, twenty-nine, qualified for middle-aged in car racing terms. He was so easy to talk to, with a quick sense of humor, and didn’t take himself seriously.

We clicked with the ease of people who’d known each other much longer, but all too soon, my lunch break was over. I realized the rain had cleared and the sun now crept back out. I’d been so absorbed with Jon I hadn’t paid any attention to the world around us. A bomb could have exploded outside and I wouldn’t have heard it.

I tried to memorize every detail about him, storing it up to recount to Colette later. His dark hair, with glints of gold as though he’d been out in the sun. The long, dark eyelashes and thick eyebrows. His teeth were white and even, and he had a tiny nick on his chin where he must have cut himself shaving. As before, he wore skin-hugging faded denims and a cotton shirt. Our seats were so close together I could smell his aftershave, a woody, musky fragrance. A smile constantly hovered over his face. Maybe it was the novelty of meeting someone who’d never heard of him before.

As I picked up my almost-dry coat and thanked him for lunch, he stood up beside me. “It was nice talking to you,” he said. “Would you like to have dinner one night? If you’re free?”

Oh.
Dinner
? Half of me wanted to say
yes please
before Jon changed his mind, but the other half immediately took fright. Lunch was one thing, but dinner implied something else completely. Baby steps, I reminded myself.

I stared at him, helpless and torn by indecision.

As I hesitated, he shrugged and gave a rueful grin. “Boyfriend, huh? Never mind.”

Jon waited again for me to reply. I felt like a rabbit trapped in the headlights. I looked into his eyes and let my emotions tumble around some more.

“No boyfriend,” I said. Rob had been a long time ago.

Jon raised his eyebrows a fraction, a hopeful expression on his face.

“I’m not looking to get involved with anyone.” I decided to be honest.

“I only asked about dinner. No strings.” There was that devastating smile again.

God, I was sorely tempted. Anyone else would have jumped at the chance, so why couldn’t I? I was scared to dip my toes into the dating pool, but maybe it was time to get my feet wet. Lunch had been wonderful.

“Okay,” I said, before I could change my mind. “When were you thinking of?”

Relief twinkled in his eyes. “I’m free on Friday. How would that be for you?”

Friday? Two days away? My head whirled. What would I wear? I didn’t have anything remotely fancy in my wardrobe, and Colette was a midget in comparison, so I couldn’t borrow from her.

I tried to be cool, as though handsome racing stars asked me out every day. “Friday’s good, thanks.”

My mobile phone was unreliable, so I gave him my home number and my address. It was hard to tear myself away. “I really need to get back to work. Thanks again for lunch.” I realized with some amusement, he hadn’t asked me once about local history.

“My pleasure.” Jon helped me into my coat, before stepping to the side, to allow me to pass.

My heart fluttered at his good manners and I hurried back to work, feeling as though I walked on air.