Double Fault Page 2

  “I wonder how old he is.” The blonde woman was still musing about his other attributes.

  “Thirty-three,” the words were out before Kerry could stop herself and she blushed.

  “You too!” The woman laughed. “Funny how that potent macho image gets to us all isn’t it, even whilst we all insist we’re fighting for equal rights. What else do you know about him?”

  That he’s six foot and three inches tall, was born in November, has an Irish mother and an English father, likes jazz and fast cars, kisses like a dream, thinks he’s god’s gift to women, and is the most arrogant self-obsessed member of the opposite sex you are ever likely to meet! The words buzzed round and round, unuttered, in Kerry’s head as she gave a slight shrug and turned away. The woman would find out for herself soon enough anyway. From the way she was cross-questioning the young man who had claimed such a tenuous acquaintance with Pierce, she had every intention of following through. It was a syndrome Kerry knew well, and one that Pierce had never been averse to encouraging with a mild flirtation of his own.

  * * *

  By two-thirty Kerry was alone and she wrapped and stacked mechanically, tipping paper plates into two black trash bags and retrieving crumpled napkins and plastic cups from beneath tables and off windowsills. Finally everything was tidy and she knew she couldn’t put off the evil moment any longer. She needed her car keys so she had to find and face Pierce.

  Leaving the boxes and cooler containers near the door she made her way to Reception. The area was clear now and a girl with purple nails and a matching lipstick was sitting behind a large wooden desk.

  “I…would you call Mr. Simon for me please,” Kerry flushed with embarrassment as the receptionist looked her up and down and obviously found her wanting. “He has my car keys. My car was blocking the entrance,” she added hastily, hoping this was enough to disassociate her from any personal connection in the girl’s mind. Then she turned away and pretended to read the notices pinned to an adjacent board while the girl called Pierce’s cell phone.

  He came almost immediately, striding across the high gloss floor while he rapped out a stream of instructions to a young man in a tracksuit who was jogging to keep up with him.

  “Finished?” He broke away from his companion and came across to where Kerry was trying to look interested in a poster about a Yoga class.

  “Yes thank you,” she held out her hand. “If you’ll give me my keys and tell me where you’ve parked my car, I’ll load it from the service entrance.”

  “And then I suppose you’re going to push it home.” Pierce made no attempt to hand over the keys as he stood looking down at her, his arms folded across a broad expanse of chest.

  She frowned at his words, wishing she wasn’t so affected by the tantalizing and far too familiar tang of his aftershave. “Of course not. Please give me my keys Pierce. I’m not in the mood for games.”

  “Nor am I!” Without warning he took her arm and ignoring her protests, propelled her at speed across the reception area to a door marked private. Pushing her inside he closed it firmly behind him and flipped the lock before waving her towards a dark blue leather couch.

  “Now we are guaranteed some privacy, you can listen to me. Your car won’t start. A mechanic is working on it at the moment so you’re not going anywhere yet, which suits me fine because I think you owe me some sort of explanation and I am quite prepared to stay here until I get one.”

  Suddenly Kerry’s legs wouldn’t hold her and she folded onto the couch with an inward groan. It was all so unfair. She had always known she would have to face him again one day and she’d lived and relived this scene over and over again, except that in her imagination Pierce was the supplicant to her successful businesswoman. She’d always pictured herself elegantly dressed in a tailored suit and a designer blouse; in control of her emotions; cool and confident; prepared for the confrontation she knew was coming. She stared miserably at the scuffed trainers that made her slender legs look too thin and the smear of tomato relish on her white blouse. She might have known her dreams wouldn’t come true. They never had as far as Pierce was concerned, which was why she had walked out on him three years ago when she was two months pregnant; too proud to ask for his help; too vulnerable to risk his contempt.

  He took advantage of her silence to use his cell phone to order coffee. It gave Kerry the breathing space she needed. By the time he’d finished her chin was up and she was ready to protect herself and the twins from the one person who should have been the centre of their lives.

  “Explanation?” Her smile was carefully positioned, one eyebrow raised quizzically.

  “Yes, explanation dammit!” His brows drew together in a familiar scowl as he crossed the room to sit next to her. “While I’m on court playing one of the most important matches of my life you pack up your wardrobe and disappear. No warning. No explanation. Nothing. I was out of my mind with worry until I found your note. Why did you do it Kerry? What happened to make you run away?”

  She managed a nonchalant shrug, hating what she was about to do but unable to think of an alternative. “I told you in the note. I was fed up with following you around the tennis circuit. Fed up with not having a life of my own.”

  “Well you sure as hell managed to hide your misery when you were buying up Paris and living the highlife in London and the States,” he drew his brows together again in a disbelieving frown. “There has to be something else, or was it someone else.”

  She feigned a bored indifference as she met his puzzled blue gaze. “There was nothing…except I’d just had enough. All those hours of watching you play and then listening to you dissect your game…it was boring Pierce. So was only being able to socialize with other tennis players. I wanted more but you never listened to me. Not properly. It was always ‘we’ll talk about it later Kerry, after the next tournament’. In the end I’d had enough and besides, after nearly a year together, I wanted to leave good memories behind. If I’d told you I was going and why, there would have been arguments and bitterness.”

  That bit at least was true she told herself, hoping against hope he would buy her story and lose interest. After all he’d only ever had to click his fingers for a bevy of beauties to come running, so why should he bother about an old flame who’d walked out on him three years ago, particularly one who had lost her looks and her fortune.

  “Memories! I wanted more than memories Kerry, and I thought you did too. I thought we had a future together.” His voice bit into her thoughts as he leaned forward and grasped her wrist.

  She dredged up every ounce of scorn she had in her and looked him squarely in the face, not flinching at his expression, ignoring the compelling draw of the deep blue eyes that had melted her so often in the past. “Don’t be ridiculous Pierce. A future is only possible in the real world, away from constant travel and a different hotel room every week. You never once asked me what I wanted in all the time we were together. You never even wondered how I filled my time while you trained and practiced for hours and hours each day. You never considered I might be bored. You never thought about the future except in terms of matches and tournaments. You just liked having some arm candy to fill in the gaps and add color to your publicity. I was just a pretty face on the terraces for the television cameras to pick out while you changed ends.”

  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.