Tall Poppies (24 page)

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hour last night, dizzy, with longing, not daring to touch herself in case that made it worse.

She took a swig of water from an Evian bottle, stretched out her calves and hamstrings, and opened the door. The hotel was just stirring, waiters setting out places in the awful buffet dining room, papers being shoved under doors. Outside, the roads were still quiet in the morning darkness. Elizabeth’s blood was flowing now and she was looking forward to her run. For forty minutes she was alone with her body, nobody hassling her. She was hungry, to get back out there to the snow. Louise and Heidi would be practising on World Cup courses, while she had to muck about on nylon fibres in distinctly non-World Cup Kent.

She jogged out of the lobby and stopped dead.

Jack Taylor was standing there, wearing pro Adidas runners and a US Olympic tracksuit.

‘What the hell do you want?’ Elizabeth demanded. Jack gave her a lazy smile. ‘To go running, Sherlock.’

‘Who told you? Ronnie?’ She stopped herself. ‘Actually, I don’t care. I run by myself.’

‘Well.’ He shifted on his feet, a movement that reminded her of his skiing. ‘I know you’re scared of me, sugar, but—’

‘Scared? Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘Sure scared. You’ve been avoiding me ever since I got here. Which I think is kind of unfriendly, for a guy that saved your life.’

Elizabeth flushed. ‘You provoked me into skiing off.’ ‘Provoked you?’ Jack shrugged, his handsome, cruel mouth twisting a little scornfully. ‘Because I took you on a hard run? I thought you could handle it, girl, but maybe I was wrong. I guess you’ve always been afraid of real competition.’

Elizabeth gave him an icy stare. ‘You’re heavy, Taylor. You’re not built for speed. Your muscles are all wrong.”

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‘Try me,’ Jack said.

‘OK.’ Already she was turning the local roads round in her mind, rewriting the course. ‘We’ll start by the station, then up the High Street.’ That was two miles of solid uphill work.

‘Fine by me, Princess.’ Jack didn’t flinch.

She turned away from him and loped off to the right, heading for the pool of neon orange under a far streetlamp. Her feet were lifting Off the asphalt, rising to the challenge, flying away from him. Behind her Elizabeth heard Jack’s grunt of surprise and the heavy thud of him on the ground as he raced to catch her. It took him four or five seconds. As Jack pulled up beside her, Elizabeth effortlessly increased the pace.

‘Come on, Taylor,’ she said coldly. ‘Let’s see what you got.’

Thirty minutes later she was covered in sweat. Straight hill running, then hill running on a curve, with small flat stretches to keep it aerobic. Elizabeth was working at the top of her range but she could feel Jack really suffering. He was too strong for sprinting.

‘It’s called muscle memory,’ Jack gasped when they finally hit the Pantiles. Royal Tunbridge Wells was a ghost town at this hour, its prosperous redbrick houses and pretty Georgian streets deserted. He watched Elizabeth fly past countless gift shops and antique dealers, her long neck lifted, her haunches in front of him tight and fluid.

‘What is?’

‘Your fitness. How fast it’s coming back. Even if you lose it, you’re not starting from scratch. You should be ready for snow work in a couple more days.’

‘Well, thanks, Coach,’ Elizabeth snapped. She was annoyed that Jack hadn’t cried off yet, the .stubborn

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bastard. ‘Let’s see if you’re ready for this. Toad Rocks. Half a mile up this curve.’

Four minutes later she turned into a dirt track off the main road. The prehistoric rock formation thrust out of thick woodland, surrounded by sand; a giant beachhead hidden in the middle of Kent. Elizabeth usually ran there in the mornings, via a much softer route. Overhead the sky was lightening, the pink and gold streaks of dawn creeping in from the east. She forced herself to bounce on her feet and breathe regularly.

Behind her Jack Taylor caught up, hit a rock, and collapsed, gasping, tearing the air into his lungs. Unbelievable. That exhaustion was all the reward she was going to get. He’d taken everything she could throw at him.

Petulantly Elizabeth ignored him and started some deep stretes. Jack said nothing, so when she was done she turned to face him. He was still lying prostrate,

clutching his ankle.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘It hurts. Christ, I think it’s fractured,’ Jack muttered. Guilt surged through her. Who’d been playing macho games now? If Jack’s ankle was fractured, it was highly unlikely it would heal in time for the Olympics. He was the favourite for gold. She’d have robbed him of that just to make a point.

Elizabeth gasped in dismay and sunk to her knees by Jack.

‘Oh! It’s all my fault, I’m so sorry.’ She reached out and touched his lower leg but Taylor flinched away from her. Elizabeth’s eyes prickled with tears. ‘Can I test it, Jack? I’ll be very careful …’

He nodded, biting his lip, and spread his legs a little to make room for her. Gingerly Elizabeth draped herself across him, her breasts brushing his thighs, and reached forwards with both hands. His ankle was lying in a pool

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of shadow from the rock. She couldn’t see if it was discoloured.

‘Gentle,’ Jack murmured.

Elizabeth took his foot in her hands like it was made of eggshells and massaged it lightly, expertly, her long fingers working the muscle and bone, probing for any swelling.

‘You seem OK to me’

Suddenly Jack pounced, slipping one arm over the small of her back and tipping her into the sand. His legs kicked underneath her and his mouth fastened against hers in a deep, rough kiss.

‘Bastard,’ Elizabeth snarled.

‘You play rough, sugar. You nearly killed me.’

He tasted of sand and sweat. He kissed her like he knew what he was doing. His arms were thicker than her upper thighs. She was back on that mountain, lifting her body into his, remembering herself dangling into space, hanging on to life by the strength of that arm. There were no men like Jack in her father’s office.

‘I came to England to find you,’ he said, looking right down into her eyes.

‘What, you can’t live without me?’ Elizabeth asked, trying for sarcasm and failing.

He grinned. ‘Sure I can live without you. It just wouldn’t be nearly so much fun.’

Then he kissed her again, and again, covering her face and her neck and ears with downy, butterfly kisses, till Elizabeth gasped and pressed her body into his.

‘Come on.’ Jack hauled her easily to her feet. ‘We’d better get back, or I’m gonna take you to bed right here.’

She trained that day in a fever of anticipation and happiness. Partly to prove something to Ronnie, partly to show off to Jack.

‘I can’t believe it.’ Ron was fulsome in his praise as

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they lined up in the Alpine View buffet restaurant for lunch, Elizabeth heaping her plate with pasta salad, baked potatoes and tuna. ‘You’re almost at race fitness.’

‘Cow.’ Karen’s joky insult had a slight edge to it. She could sense that the antipathy between Jack and Elizabeth had gone. As had the other girl’s fantasies of displacing Lady Liz as number one.

‘Umm, I must admit, I didn’t think you’d be ready.’ Janet had a dig too. It wasn’t fair. Ronnie’s threat had leaked out and she’d hoped Elizabeth might just be dropped. Now she was going to waltz off with a medal and maybe Jack Taylor. None of them could miss the way his eyes had fastened on her all day.

‘It’s called muscle memory,’ Elizabeth smiled sweetly. ‘My body just needed reminding.’

‘You’ve worked hard.’ Ronnie grinned as they all slotted int a table. He liked the resentment crackling round the room, it would make them more competitive. ‘I think you’re ready for snow training too. Hans Wolf called from Lausanne today. He wants to get you back on the snow, mid-Jan.’

That would mean giving up on Dragon. But then, thanks to Nina Roth, I’m going nowhere fast anyway, Elizabeth thought. Maybe it was time to cut her losses. ‘Great,’ she said.

Jack called for her after dinner.

‘Let’s go out for a drive.’

Elizabeth looked up at him in surprise, but Jack gestured to her tacky room. ‘We can do better than this, don’t you think?’

They passed Janet in the lobby. ‘Training starts at six tomorrow,’ she said, staring jealously at Jack’s arm threaded through. Elizabeth’s duffel coat.

‘And she’ll probably be there,’ Jack replied. Elizabeth

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bit back her smile, but Janet’s eyes glittered with dislike anyway.

A hire car was parked in the forecourt, a sleek Mercedes. Elizabeth slid into the passenger seat while Jack jumped in beside her. A set of keys were resting on the dashboard. ‘Where are we going?’ Elizabeth asked.

He smiled. ‘You’ll see.’

They drove out of town towards East Sussex, dipping up and down country hills. Jack drove smoothly, unfazed by the narrow woodland roads and sharp corners. The night was crisp and cold, the stars brilliant in the clear sky. Rabbits scurried away from the headlights, and once she saw a white owl’s wing ghosting up out of the trees in front of them.

He parked outside a cottage on the edge of Frant village. ‘My country retreat. I stay here when I’m going to meets.’

Jack jumped out to open the door for her. His Texas gallantry made her nervous.

What’s wrong with me? Elizabeth thought. Suddenly she cared desperately about the kind of impression she was giving him. It had never been that way with Gerard de Mesnil, or Karl, or any of the others.

‘Come in.’ Jack flicked on lights and ushered her into the cottage. It was beautiful, with timbered ceilings and wooden stairs curving upwards. Elizabeth hung up her duffel on an old-fashioned coat-stand and followed him into a tiny drawing room. A careful pile of kindling, coal and logs was all ready in the grate. Jack took a box of Ship matches down from the mantelpiece and lit a

firelighter. It crackled into flame at once.

‘Cheat,’ Elizabeth teased.

Jack turned his head and gave her a wicked smile. ‘I’m not that rustic. Want a drink? Port, sour mash, champagne?’

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Elizabeth shifted on her heels as he drew the curtains. She wanted to drink herself brave. ‘Maybe a little champagne.’

While he rummaged in the kitchen Elizabeth snuck upstairs. The bathroom was painted a child’s blue with yellow ducks in the basin, and the single bedroom was papered with a Laura Ashley burgundy sprig. A pair of dumbbells lay at the foot of a large bed covered in a pretty eiderdown. Something about the place made her happiness tighten around her heart.

She went downstairs. ‘It’s lovely, but it doesn’t seem very you.’

‘How do you know what’s very me? You don’t even know me,’ Jack said.

Elizabeth felt shy. ‘I’d like to,’ she said.

Jack leined over and kissed her very softly on the lips. Then he handed her a chipped stone mug, half-full of champagne.

‘No glasses. At least it proves I didn’t take you for granted.’

They drank the champagne by the fire, Elizabeth nestling her head in the crook of Jack’s arm. He didn’t make any move on her, and slowly the nerves started to fade. When he finally started to stroke her, Elizabeth wanted it, she was light with desire for him. They started to kiss, gently, then more urgently.

‘Are you ready?’ Jack whispered.

Elizabeth nodded, even though she was still scared. He took her head in his two hands and kissed her again. ‘Sugar, I was dying for you the first moment I saw you. It’s not an audition. I won’t do anything you don’t want.’

She smiled and held out her hand to him.

‘I got a better idea,’ Jack suggested. Then he scooped

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her up in his arms like she was made of cotton wool, and carried her slowly up the stairs.

Snow lay thick on the ground in her tiny scrap of garden. Outside on the street it was already turning to slush. Nina let herself out and set the burglar alarm. It was still a thrill to do that; the two-bedroom, three-storey house in Tufnell Park, ninety grand, her first piece of property. Tony had recommended her to the Hong Kong & Shanghai for a wonderfully low mortgage, and the smart Camden flat went to somebody more junior. Her Christmas present had been a diamond necklace and earrings from Asprey’s, which Nina was planning to sell after a decent interval.

‘I don’t celebrate Christmas,’ she said when he handed over the box.

Tony was unabashed. ‘You do now.’

Despite the glorious chill fire of the jewels, Nina thought how easy it would have been just to say, ‘Happy Chanukah.’ But that was Tony, he didn’t move an inch. For anybody.

Nina climbed into her Golf and swung out into the traffic. January was a buzz; maybe it was Britain’s long, booze-soaked holiday, but once New Year’s was over, the capital seemed full of fresh ,igour, as though desperate to make up lost time. Nina spent the holidays in Companies House and the library of the British Medical Association. She knew Frank, Carl and her other colleagues thought she was a crazy workaholic. They also despised her once the rapid promotion came through. Senior manager, that young? Nobody said anything to

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Caerhaven’s new piece of ass, but the frostiness was there.

She flicked on the radio as she turned past King’s Cross Station. The news was dolorously announcing flooding round the city of York and a passenger train marooned in a Welsh blizzard. The Americans were stalling over the Falklands. Unemployment was up again.

Anger doesn’t bother me, Nina thought, it’s the other thing. Junior pricks of the type that always sucked up to Liz Savage had started to suck up to her. That was branding as bad as any scarlet letter. The irony was that she deserved the new slot. Busting her ass all vacation, she’d found an answer, to both of Tony’s problems. The last time she’d seen him was Christmas Eve, in a suite at the St James’s Club. He was taking a lunchtime Intercity to Cardiff to be ferried back to his castle, and he wanted to see her before he left. Nina was flattered by his hunger for her, but unsettled by the Christmas present. She took it and then him, straddling him on the bed, rifling him almost violently. Tony provoked her. He was good in bed, very expert in his moves, and his power was a turn-on, but it wasn’t like it had been that first time. It hadn’t been that good again.