Chapter 9 #3
‘You’ll be sorry you asked. I warn you, I could talk for Ireland about this.’
‘No, I’d really like to know.’
Kate didn’t need any more encouragement. She had spent so much time fantasising about her own restaurant, it was as if she was describing somewhere that already existed, down to the tiniest detail.
‘You obviously haven’t given it much thought, then,’ Will teased her, when she had finished.
‘Oh well, it costs nothing to daydream. The reality is I’ll probably wind up cooking macrobiotic smorgasbords for an endless parade of Brian’s lost souls.’
‘Why don’t you do it – the restaurant?’
‘I don’t have the money, though I have saved a lot since I’ve been here,’ she added, not wanting to appear ungrateful.
She had hardly spent a cent since she’d arrived and, true to his word, Will was paying her an outlandish sum, well over the odds.
However, she had an awful feeling that Brian would expect her to sink her funds into his growth-centre venture.
‘You could borrow,’ Will suggested.
‘I’m not a very good credit prospect.’ Kate smiled regretfully. ‘Like I say, most of my jobs don’t pay this much.’
‘It’s not as if you haven’t earned it. I don’t imagine most of your jobs are so full-on. You haven’t had a night off since you got here.’
‘What would I do with one? I don’t know anyone here except you guys.’
‘Well, why don’t I take you out for dinner one night – just the two of us?’
‘You don’t have to do that.’
‘But I’d like to – as an apology for my behaviour last night.’
It was on the tip of Kate’s tongue to insist once again that she didn’t need a night off, but then she realised she was about to turn down the chance to go on the date she’d wanted to be on since she was thirteen. Don’t be a chump, she told herself. ‘Okay. I’d really like that.’
* * *
On the drive back to the villa, Kate noticed that Will was particularly quiet. She hoped she hadn’t upset him by bringing up the subject of his father. But he hadn’t seemed offended – he was probably just engrossed in his new car.
In fact, Will was mentally cursing himself for whatever impulse had driven him to suggest he take Kate out to dinner.
What the hell had he been thinking? He had been fighting a burning desire for her from the moment she had got into the car beside him.
Even now he was uncomfortably aware of her.
As she shifted in her seat, he had to battle the compulsion to reach out and touch her smooth brown thigh, revealed when her dress had hitched up a little.
The inn where they had had lunch had a few rooms, and he had been fantasising all afternoon about taking Kate to one and spending the rest of the evening discovering if she had the same earthy, enthusiastic approach to sex as she had to food.
What had made it almost unbearable was the feeling he had that Kate felt the same – that if he made the slightest move towards her she would more than meet him halfway.
But if something happened today, it would change everything.
Neither of them had been drinking so they couldn’t plead temporary insanity and brush it off as a drunken aberration.
They would have crossed a line. It had been almost impossible, but somehow he had escaped without doing anything irrevocable.
He had got himself off the hook – only to put himself in the way of further temptation and set himself up for a night of agony.
Well, there was no going back on it now.
He would just have to behave like a bloody Boy Scout on their ‘date’.
He would be friendly and affectionate in a brotherly way, and he would keep his hands off her.
They would have dinner, talk, and then he would drive her back to the villa.
And that, he told himself firmly, would be that.
At least Tina was due in a couple of weeks.
She would take his mind off Kate. He knew it wasn’t working between them and he had to break up with her, but now was not the time.
She had planned a big birthday bash for herself in Florence at the end of the month, and half of the British Isles were coming over for it, including May Kennedy, her gossip-columnist friend, who would loyally write it up as the party of the year.
She had also invited Wow! magazine to cover it.
He knew that, as far as Tina and everyone else was concerned, he was part of the package, and he was willing to play the loyal boyfriend for another month or so.
After all, it wasn’t as if he wanted to be free to be with Kate – quite the opposite: he wanted Tina as camouflage, to convince himself and everyone else that she was the sole object of his desire.
For once he would be happy to play his half of the golden couple.
He hadn’t been looking forward to her visit, with the attendant media circus, but now he couldn’t wait for her to arrive.
It turned out, he didn’t have to. As Will pulled up in front of the villa, the door opened to reveal Tina, looking every inch the goddess in a red silk shift dress that showed off the perfection of her figure, her long brown hair falling in soft curls around her shoulders.
When he got out of the car, she ran up to him, throwing her arms around his neck.
‘Tina! I thought you had to leave today and couldn’t get here for another couple of weeks.’ More relieved than pleased to see her, he kissed her enthusiastically with all the pent-up desire Kate had aroused. ‘This is a nice surprise,’ he murmured. ‘You’ve come early.’
No, Tina thought, eyeing Kate suspiciously over his shoulder as she jumped out of the passenger seat, I think I’ve come just in time.
* * *
Tina had woken up alone that morning in the vast double bed of the penthouse suite in one of Florence’s plushest hotels.
Not that she hadn’t had plenty of offers – with Will out of the way, she could have shared that bed with any one of about ten guys.
But that wasn’t what she wanted. Sitting up in the middle of that huge bed, her cocaine-fuelled confidence of the night before descending into jittery paranoia, she realised she had made a big mistake in letting Will leave.
Last night she had been too high to notice or care, but in the cold light of day, sober, she saw that Will had been all too anxious to get away.
She couldn’t understand why. She sat in an anxious huddle in the sheets and went over everything he had said, searching for clues.
And then, gradually, it dawned on her that Kate O’Neill’s name had come up rather too often.
At first she dismissed the idea as her imagination playing tricks on her.
But the more she thought about it, the more convinced she became that – incomprehensible though it was – Will had developed a crush on that bovine lump of a girl.
Gripped by a paralysing anxiety that was almost overwhelming, Tina toyed with the idea of riding it out, just letting the insecurity and neurosis wash over her – she wouldn’t even have to get up.
The idea was strangely appealing, but she only indulged it briefly.
She might have been more inclined to give in to apathy if it weren’t for the little packet she had picked up in the club last night and which she knew was in her bag.
There was no need to languish in bed feeling sorry for herself when help was so close at hand.
There were things she wanted in life and she wasn’t going to get them cowering in a hotel room, letting fear overwhelm her.
Damn it, she’d put in a lot of spadework on Will, and she wasn’t about to let Kate O’Neill swoop in and make off with him.
Tina’s friends were all getting married, settling down and having babies, and she wanted to do the same.
She was tired of modelling, tired of the travelling, the gypsy existence, the pressure to be always ‘on’.
She was tired of only eating fish and vegetables.
Most of all, she was tired of the constant sense of anticlimax, waking up alone in anonymous hotel rooms after glittering nights filled with flirtatious, admiring crowds.
Too often she had indulged her hedonistic side at her own expense, sacrificing long-term comfort for short-term pleasure.
Well, no more. It was time to wise up, she told herself sternly.
With a huge effort of will, she got out of bed, grabbed her bag and went into the bathroom.
Rifling through the jumble of makeup, she became increasingly panicky when she failed to find what she was looking for, tipping everything out onto the marble surface beside the basin and searching through it with shaking fingers, almost on the verge of tears.
‘Get a grip,’ she told herself. She took a deep breath and began to search more methodically, looking through her wallet and opening her diary upside down, in case the packet had fallen between the pages.
Almost despairing, she had a final feel around inside the empty bag and felt a tear in the lining.
She fumbled inside the hole and finally – Alleluia!
– seized on the little cellophane packet.
She tore it open, took a credit card from her wallet and chopped out two fat lines.
Slowly now, savouring the moment, she took a note, rolled it and bent to snort them.
Lifting her head, she smiled at herself in the mirror as she felt the almost visceral surge of confidence and exhilaration course through her veins.
God, how could she ever give up something so delicious?
‘The rehab starts tomorrow,’ she told her reflection jauntily – a favourite catchphrase among her crowd.