Chloe's Rescue Mission (20 page)

‘That’s just Duncan; never happy unless he’s bossing people about. He’s a control freak.’

Jooli licked her lips. ‘Sexy isn’t it?’

I looked out of the window. It was hurling down and the cameraman was bent over his gear as he carried it indoors. Duncan followed, running a hand through his wet hair, forcing it back off his forehead making him look more severe than ever. Why was he here, anyway? The Hot Car Show was nothing to do with him.

I positioned myself at a table behind the other girls, deliberately avoiding any contact with him. I could do without a lecture on poor driving, breaches of contract or blatant insubordination. In fact I could do without any of this. I was tired – very tired – and the sooner the rain stopped and I could get home, the happier I would be.

Ross squinted at the sky. ‘I reckon this rain’ll be over in half an hour. Let’s get the kettle on and have a cuppa, okay?’

Duncan was leaning against the wall by the door. He had a face like thunder. Maybe he’s causing the freak weather conditions, I thought, folding my arms on the table in front of me and dropping my head onto them.

‘Chloe. Chloe.
Wake-Up!
We’re doing the speed test, now.’

‘What?’ I lifted my head and forced my eyelids apart. There was an unpleasant stiffness in my neck.

The young camera assistant was standing beside me, holding out a glass of water. ‘The rain’s stopped and the other two have done their laps. Now it’s time for the speed test.’

Of course. I looked around the room. Duncan was still there. He was seated at one of the tables, working on his laptop. He glanced up at me. ‘Do you feel better for that?’ he asked.

Better? I wasn’t sure. Mostly, I felt sleepy. I ran my tongue over my lips and stretched my hand out for the water. ‘Thanks,’ I said to the assistant before draining the cup.

‘You want to make sure you’re fully alert before you do the speed test,’ Duncan advised.

I looked round at him.

He raised his hands, ‘Okay, I’m stating the obvious. But you’ve been dead to the world for the last hour or so.’

I looked at my watch, surprised to see it was nearly three.

The assistant looked at his own watch. ‘Once we’ve done the speed tests, they’re going to do the chat with Frazer and then I think we’re packing up.’

I nodded. I wasn’t sure I was awake yet. I stretched and rotated my neck, which hurt. ‘Okay. I’m going to nip to the ladies, then I’ll be out.’

As I looked at my reflection in the cloakroom, I saw the neat herringbone pattern from my sleeve embossed across one cheek. ‘Oh great!’ I threw cold water at my face and patted it dry with a paper towel. For once, I’d actually be glad of the helmet.

The speed test was fun, even though they had to film it eight times, because Mazz kept doing false starts or stalling. Finally we crossed the line, with Jooli taking the lead. I could have gone faster but somehow, the spark had gone out of my day. I was woolly-headed and Duncan’s interference had left me feeling grumpy.

For the last ten days, I’d been buzzing with the theatre project. The team at Thorsen Leisure had been right behind me, supporting and advising me but above all, believing in my project and treating me like an equal. They’d listened to my ideas and, most of the time, I’d been driving the decisions. Today, Mr Big turned up and practically implied I was incapable of driving a car two laps around a race track. How dare he?

By five-thirty, the interviews were over and we were free to leave.

Jooli and I swapped numbers. ‘If you’re ever in London, call me and we’ll go out for a blast, yeah?’

‘Thanks.’ Then a thought occurred to me. ‘What are you doing on July 9th?’

‘No idea. What you got in mind?’

I launched into my pitch for the variety show. ‘I know it’s a lot to ask, but it’d be wonderful if you could do a couple of songs.’

Jooli shrugged and wrote the date on the back of her hand. ‘Sounds cool. I’ll check with my manager.’

Having said my goodbyes to the team, I knew I must walk over to Duncan’s car and say goodbye to him. Despite everything, he was still supporting the theatre.

He was fast asleep, head back on the headrest. He looked vulnerable – just like the time I’d seen him alone in the Spanish garden. I stood, watching him for a long moment, wondering whether I should wake him or not. They would be closing the gates to the track in a short while anyway, so I tapped on his window. Nothing. I tapped a little harder. Still nothing. I peered in at his chest. Yes, it was rising and falling. I opened the door. That did the trick.

‘Hey! What?’ he croaked, confused and frowning.

I couldn’t resist a little chuckle. I stepped around the door and peered in at him. ‘Wakey-wakey, Duncan. Time to go home.’

His eyes focused on me through half-open lids – his lashes softening the blue beneath, and a smile slowly lifted the corners of his mouth. ‘Hi.’ His voice came out like a whisper.

How confusing was this guy? Only a short while ago, I’d been grinding my teeth with irritation at him. Now, as he bestowed this sleepy smile on me, all manner of fantasies came flooding in. How had he managed to get so deeply under my skin?

‘Hi! I guess you found it pretty boring watching women racing cars?’

He didn’t answer, just looked back at me, his lids lowering slightly as if he was trying to work out who or what he was looking at. He was having trouble waking up. I knew the feeling. ‘Everyone’s leaving now, and they’re locking the gates in a minute, so… so you might want to make sure you’re fully alert before you drive home.’ I straightened up, smiling to myself at the use of his earlier phrase, and moved to shut the door.

‘Wait!’ Duncan stopped it from closing.

Oh, what now? I folded my arms as I waited for the next set of orders.

‘What are you going to…’ he hesitated. ‘I mean…are you planning on driving home, now?’

‘Yes. Traffic permitting, I should be home in time to stick a lasagne in the microwave and watch an episode of Sherlock.’

‘You know, this is the worst time to be driving anywhere. You’ll hit all the rush-hour traffic and the motorways will be solid.’

‘True, but I’d like to be home at a reasonable hour.’

I was just about to say goodbye, when he said, ‘Well, I’m not going to spend two hours doing stop-start on the motorway. Come on, you were looking pretty tired earlier, yourself. Let’s at least go and have a bite to eat somewhere and wait till the rush dies down. I understand lunch wasn’t too special.’

He was right. A tray of sandwiches and some fresh fruit hadn’t been enough to sustain all the crew and performers.

As if sensing I was weakening, he moved towards me. ‘I haven’t eaten since my airline breakfast at six o’clock this morning. Right now, I could murder some fish and chips. I noticed a roadside café up the hill, what do you say?’

He was training those eyes on me again. I noticed how the earlier rainfall had caused his hair to dry in soft waves, giving him a very tempting, just-fell-out-of-bed look.

I smiled. ‘I could murder ham, egg and chips.’

‘Away, then! Follow me, it’s just up the road.’

*

Duncan and Chloe sat at a table by the window.

‘I’m so glad you suggested this,’ she said, planting the menu back in its stand. ‘The microwave lasagne is about three hours away, and I’m not sure I would have made it without stopping for a bag of crisps and a Walnut Whip.’

He smiled back at her. ‘I’m glad you agreed.’

He rested his elbows on the table and his chin on his fists. Ever since his moment of clarity on the flight to Miami, he’d barely been able to think of anything but Chloe. He finally had to accept she was sparking, in him, the kind of interest that had lain dormant for too long. The kind of interest that would make demands on her emotions as much as his own. But if he wanted her to take him seriously, he knew he had to play a waiting game. He was the one who’d set the ground rules – don’t mix business with pleasure. And, despite her evident willingness in Spain, he couldn’t be sure she’d welcome his advances now – if ever. She was fully entitled to consider him a shallow, love-em-and-leave-em type and run for the hills. But how he hoped she wouldn’t.

No. This could be the biggest negotiation of his life, he wouldn’t rush it.

‘So,’ Chloe began, and he noticed her mirroring him with her own chin on her hands. ‘You flew in from Miami, this morning. I guess the jet-lag must have knocked you out.’

‘It’s the biggest drag of my job.’ That and the loneliness, he wanted to add.

‘I didn’t know you were going to be there today.’

He drew a deep breath. It certainly hadn’t been on his agenda. ‘No, well…’

He didn’t have chance to offer any kind of explanation as the waitress chose that moment to take their order. Once she’d moved away, Chloe took up the conversation. ‘So, which of the cars did you like the look of? Or wouldn’t you be seen dead in a “hot chick sports-car”?’ her fingers bracketed the phrase with inverted commas.

‘I’m not a big fan of two-seaters. Especially convertibles.’

‘You surprise me, being the notorious playboy that you are – allegedly.’

She was teasing him. He liked it. It felt normal. ‘Just you remember that word – allegedly!’

‘Now, at the risk of picking at the scab of this afternoon’s altercation,’ she began, ‘what was the real reason behind you objecting to me driving the car? Is it Ross you have a problem with – or the programme?’

She was more perceptive than he’d given her credit for. But then, maybe that was part of the attraction. He lowered his hands and clasped them on the table in front of him. ‘Chloe, it’s a long story…’

There was a commotion in the doorway, as the crew trudged through it. To Duncan’s dismay, they chose to sit at the table across the aisle from them. Conversation quickly fired up about the day’s shoot. It was precisely the kind of banter Duncan was not in the mood for. Chloe, on the other hand, was charming and friendly, although he detected a little chilliness in her exchanges with Ross.

Equally, Ross wasn’t exactly extending the hand of friendship to Duncan.

All the way over on the plane Duncan had been battling with his conscience over the programme. Even though he knew he was being unreasonable and over-reacting, he just hadn’t been able to sit back in his hotel suite and let it go. Fifteen years ago he’d bought his lovely Lorna a 1980’s Mazda MX5 for her twenty-first birthday, and proposed to her as she’d sat in the driver’s seat. His mates had kidded him that buttering her up with a cute, tomato-red sports-car might have swayed her decision. The truth was, there had been no doubt about what her response would be.

Duncan and Lorna had been together since school, and never questioned they’d be together forever. Since she’d always had a soft spot for the little Mazdas, it was the one present he’d known she would love. So, having managed to get the family business running successfully, he’d just about pulled together the cash to buy her favourite car – it was that or a ring, and she so badly needed the car, he knew she would wait for a ring. Only days later, she’d been driving across the moors in a heavy storm, a deer had crossed her path and she hadn’t been able to avoid it. By the time another motorist came upon the scene, she’d lost so much blood, they’d thought she wouldn’t make it to hospital. But she had, and when Duncan finally reached intensive care, she had begun quietly slipping away.

He couldn’t tell Chloe this, now. What would it say about him – that he was as concerned for her as he had been for Lorna? Ridiculous! Lorna had been his fiancée. As far as Chloe was concerned, he was just there to support the theatre. And from her reaction to their connection in Spain, she’d made it quite clear she wasn’t a girl to be messed around. What’s more, they had agreed they wouldn’t confuse their professional relationship with anything more personal, unless it gained publicity for the theatre.

He studied her. He loved her quick wittedness – not so sharp that she put people down but smart enough to deflect any cracks that came her way. Occasionally she’d glance over to include him in the dialogue but she seemed to sense his reluctance to join in. He’d been pretty vocal in his opinion over their irresponsibility with the shoot, so they were hardly likely to count him very high in the buddy-buddy stakes.

When their food came, Chloe tucked into hers as if it were the first meal she’d eaten all week. How much more healthy an approach than that of so many women he entertained, most of whom expended more energy pushing food around their plates than they ever consumed in calories. And it was comforting to see she could eat without feeling she had to make conversation with him. Or maybe she didn’t want to. Perhaps she was glad the crew had turned up so she didn’t have to talk to him, and now she just wanted to eat her meal and get out of here. He looked across at her. She looked up too, and smiled. He loved the way her eyes softened when she smiled.

In truth, he was still reeling from the shock of how deeply this woman affected his emotions.

*

I was itching to know what long story Duncan had been about to relate. But there was no way I was going to ask him now – not with Ross in ear-shot.

In fact, with Ross only an arm’s stretch away, I wasn’t sure what to talk about. Any discussion regarding the day’s shoot was likely to be contentious but if I talked about plans for the theatre, I didn’t want Ross getting the scoop on that either. Family stuff was seriously too personal and talking about the weather would really be scraping the barrel. So I dipped another chip in my egg and carried on scoffing.

After coffee, Duncan paid for the meal and walked me to my car. ‘Sure you’re okay to drive?’ he asked, briefly touching my arm with his hand.

‘Fine. You?’

‘Sure. Remember, I don’t have so far to go.’

I nodded, conscious of an awkwardness between us. Would he ever tell me his long story? If I were dealing with one of my girlfriends I’d have dragged her into the ladies loo and insisted she spill the beans. However, dragging Duncan into the loo risked giving entirely the wrong impression.

Beth’s car was tucked onto the drive and all the lights in Juniper Cottage were blazing as I arrived home. It was late, Beth must have decided to stay the night.

‘Hi,’ I said, opening the door and meeting Beth in the hallway. ‘How’s you?’ I hugged her, detecting a whiff of smoke in her hair…and it wasn’t bonfire. ‘Wassup?’ I whispered.