Читать книгу Saying Yes to the Millionaire - Фиона Харпер - Страница 9

THE noise in the coffee shop instantly dropped to a dull murmur. A teaspoon clinked against a saucer. Fern froze and noticed that not a few pairs of eyes were looking in her direction. She sat down with a bump, her fingers still in contact with Lisette’s lips in a vain attempt to hold back her question.

It did no good; Lisette just mumbled against them, her lips squashing into odd shapes. ‘Will you take my place and do the jump for me?’

Fern glared at her flatmate. Slowly, she pulled her fingers away and folded her hands in her lap, never once blinking or breaking eye contact with Lisette. It was only when she heard a rustle to her left that she remembered Simon was still there.

‘Would you, Fern?’ he said meekly.

She turned sharply to look at him and he shrank back. Better downgrade that glare to a firm-and-in-control look. She took a few seconds to make the adjustment. Simon breathed out.

‘Go on. Answer the man’s question.’ Was that a tremor she could hear in Lisette’s voice? Fern flicked a look in her soon-to-be-ex-flatmate’s direction. Lisette had the good sense to stop grinning.

She took a deep breath. Any other week and there was no way this would have even figured on her radar. A bungee jump! She couldn’t do a bungee jump. What was Lisette thinking?

But the question had been asked and Simon was looking at her so hopefully. He was counting on her—the Leukaemia Research Trust was counting on her. And if she refused, they’d also lose out on the five hundred pounds Lisette had promised her if she fulfilled her stupid challenge.

She blew a breath out and let her body sag into the hard chair.

‘Yes. I’ll do it.’

Simon looked ready to hug her. After a few moments’ awkward hesitation, he lurched forward and planted a wet kiss on her cheek. She looked at him. Not so much a zap as a squelch.

‘Thank you so much! If you take Lisette’s place we should still reach our target.’

She felt numb and could hardly listen to the rest of the conversation as Simon grabbed a cup of coffee and wittered on about how great it was going to be tomorrow. By the time he’d finished she only had five minutes of her break left. For the first time in her life she was going to be late back from lunch, because there were some things she needed to say to Lisette that just couldn’t wait.

They both watched in silence as Simon mumbled his goodbyes and flapped through the coffee shop door, narrowly avoiding sending an elderly woman flying.

‘There is no way I can do a bungee jump!’

‘Yes, you can!’

‘No. I can’t.’

Lisette raised her eyebrows and pressed her mouth together in a rueful expression. ‘Too late. You’ve already said you’ll do it.’

Fern sighed and her brows crinkled together until a small crease appeared at the top of her nose. There had to be some way out of this. Some legitimate way that she could pull out without jeopardising all the money. Hang on a second…

She relaxed back into her chair and folded her arms. ‘When we discussed terms and conditions, you said I could refuse to do anything dangerous.’

Lisette raised one eyebrow. ‘Nice try, but the jump has been approved health-and-safety-wise. You double checked all the paperwork yourself, remember? So why, if it’s safe for all the other volunteers, would it not be safe for you?’

Drat! Caught out by her own efficiency.

‘You don’t have to do it, if you really don’t want to.’ Lisette scraped around her cappuccino cup with a teaspoon.

‘I don’t?’ The sense of relief was like the sun coming out unexpectedly on a cloudy day.

The teaspoon made its way into Lisette’s mouth upside down and she licked the foam off it. ‘No one is forcing you to do anything. But you will forfeit my five hundred pounds and the four hundred pounds in sponsor money people have pledged me.’

Fern spluttered. ‘Four hundred pounds! How did you manage that?’

‘Remember that period drama I did last month when I was an eighteenth-century milkmaid?’

Fern nodded, not exactly sure where this was going.

‘Okay, well, that corset made my boobs look really great. And there were lots of hunky male villagers with nothing to do but mill around for hours and stare at my cleavage…’

Josh ran up the escalator stairs two at a time and considered vaulting over the ticket barrier at the top. Under the watchful gaze of the London Underground official, he jammed his ticket through the machine and sprinted across the ticket hall and out on to the busy street.

He was late. Almost.

People were rushing past him, eyes down towards the pavement. He stopped and let them flow around him. Although London was technically home and, by definition, should be classed as boring, he couldn’t help loving the bustle and excitement of the city.

He turned round on the spot, scanning the horizon. All those pavement-gazers took it all for granted. They weren’t paying attention to the beautiful architecture or the clear blue sky criss-crossed with aeroplane trails, or even the two hundred foot crane towering by the bank of the Thames. He grinned to himself and set off towards it.

Good old Mum. She’d heard about this charity bungee jump from Helen Chambers and knew it would be just up his street. This was just for starters. Main course was the torn-out advert sitting in his back pocket.

He’d been working non-stop for the last six months and desperately needed some fun. Why work hard unless he could play hard? He hadn’t had time in his schedule to go snowboarding or white-water rafting recently. The South America trip would have been a good substitute, but he’d just have to have an adventure in London instead.

By the time he reached the foot of the crane, the first couple of volunteers had already jumped and another was dangling upside down while he was lowered to the ground. Josh scanned the crowd as he registered and started towards the little lift that would take him to the top of the crane.

He needed a partner for his next project and there must be at least one guy here who was up for an impromptu escapade. Someone physically fit with half a brain. Someone who’d be prepared to hare around the city for four days and possibly go home with five thousand pounds in his pocket.

Once he was at the top of the crane and waiting in line, he checked out his fellow jumpers more carefully. He made a little face to himself. Not really what he’d expected. A couple of senior citizens, a lanky guy with the look of a frozen rabbit and a few girls.

Another person jumped and the line shuffled forward. Seven more people to go and then he’d have his adrenaline high. There was nothing to beat it. He watched as the next volunteer had her ankles strapped into the harness.

She was standing stock still, staring out across the city. A lot of the others had clucked and fidgeted as the safety checks had been made, but not her. He tipped his head slightly on one side. Not bad legs either. And beautiful pale blonde hair that the wind was teasing bit by bit out of her ponytail. He allowed himself a small smile. Perhaps he’d try and get her number when they were both on terra firma again.

He liked his women brave and feisty. Sure, the relationships didn’t last long, fizzling out quickly, but it was a heck of a ride while it lasted. He had a few more weeks to kill in London. Why not?

And then she turned to look back at the line of people behind her and he knew exactly why not.

He didn’t need to know her number when he already knew her middle name. Not only that, but he knew that she hated Brussels sprouts, loved vanilla ice cream and had a tiny crescent-shaped scar on her temple. Knew it because he’d put it there accidentally when she’d been seven and he’d been messing around with an old tennis racquet.

Fern? Ryan’s shy little sister was doing a bungee jump? He shook his head.

It was her turn to jump but she seemed frozen. A picture flashed in his brain—Fern, standing at the end of the diving board on a joint family holiday, her tiny arms clamped to her sides and her chin tipped up. He’d seen the look of fear in her eyes then and he didn’t have to see all of her face to know it was there now. He knew what he had to do.

The other jumpers were starting to mutter and he pushed past them until he was standing directly behind her. She jerked her head round and a small croak came out of her mouth. Her eyes were glazed over and she hadn’t even registered his presence.

He knew she’d kick herself if she didn’t do this, just the same way that she had sulked for three days after he’d talked her down from the high diving board. Ryan had teased her mercilessly, forgetting—as Ryan conveniently often had—that it had been his goading that had forced her up there in the first place.

He stepped forward and placed his hands around her waist and whispered encouraging words in her ear. Exactly what words he wasn’t sure, because all he could think about was how warm she felt beneath his fingers and how there definitely hadn’t been that much curve there last time he’d grabbed her round the middle.

He’d done so many jumps like this he couldn’t even count them, but he was pretty sure it was Fern’s first time. So he carefully talked her through it, all the time trying to keep his voice steady and soothing, which was harder than anticipated, because he kept getting distracted by the smell of her hair.

He felt her muscles relax as he counted her down and then, before he could analyse the sudden urge to grab on to her and squeeze her close to him, she had fallen away from him and he was left hugging empty space.

He spread his arms wide—stretching to the tips of his fingers—lifted his face to the sun, rocked forward on to the balls of his feet and let gravity do the rest. A yell of pure joy erupted from deep inside his chest. He loved the first moments of a bungee jump, when the exquisite sense of freedom tangled with the natural human desire for self-preservation. Man, it was a rush!

He wondered if Fern had felt the same way. He hoped so. And, as the elastic tugged tight, giving him a split-second of stillness before he was propelled upwards again, he had an epiphany.

He didn’t need a man to help him win the ten thousand pounds; he needed a woman. A woman who was clever and resilient and knew this city inside out. A woman he could trust.

He needed Fern.

The small stones on the dusty ground were starting to dig into her bottom, but she didn’t care. She was going to be filthy when she stood up, but she didn’t care about that either. All that mattered was that large sections of her body’s surface area—namely, her rear end, legs and feet—were in contact with solid ground.

Her back was hunched forward and she was staring at her knees as she sat there motionless, dragging in deep breaths.

She’d never realised how much she loved the ground before now. She’d always taken it for granted—had stomped on it, had walked along it in spiky high heels, had generally ignored it. It had taken being spectacularly separated from it to make her realise how precious it really was.

After another minute she was ready to take her eyes off the dirt and focus on the horizon. The sight of the base of the great crane made her feel all fluttery again.

Had it really been Josh up there?

She deliberately kept her gaze level with the skyline, the sparkling office blocks and grand old buildings that dared to reach heavenwards. The bungee cord was free of any weight and swung aimlessly in the breeze. It must be over. She dragged herself to standing and brushed the grit off her bottom and the backs of her thighs with a few quick swipes of her hands.

That voice in her ear, those hands around her waist—had they been real? Now she was back with her feet planted on the earth it seemed like a half-remembered dream. She must have conjured the image up, been subconsciously taken back in time to a similar incident when he’d been there to help her. Funnily enough, in comparison, the memory of the diving board incident was fresh and clear: Bournemouth, over twenty years ago. That day, an unsuspecting eleven-year-old boy had won the eternal admiration of one small girl.

The murmur of voices behind her disturbed her thoughts. She put her hands on her hips and stared up at the crane.

He still had it. Her admiration. That and a bucketload more.

But she hadn’t seen Josh in more than a year and he was more likely in Timbuktu or Bora Bora, working to put One Life Travel more firmly on the map. His mother was always boasting about her son’s new millionaire status and the last time the Adamses and the Chamberses had had a get-together—without Josh, of course—Pauline had been full of Josh’s new venture. Now, by helping charities organise and run expeditions, he could help hundreds of people every day, not only the people who took part in the expeditions, giving them an experience of a lifetime, but also the charities they raised money for.

Not that people really thought about raising money for an organisation. They thought about the people. People like Ryan. Wasn’t that why she was here today? Why she’d agreed to this stupid challenge of Lisette’s?

Thinking of stupid challenges and raising money, it was high time she made her way over to the registration table and got a signature to confirm she’d done the bungee jump. Then Lisette could go and collect all that cleavage-induced sponsor money. She smiled to herself. She was really looking forward to seeing Lisette’s face when she handed her the form.

Above the general hum of conversation she heard a voice. ‘Fern?’

It must be Simon. She wasn’t surprised he’d come scurrying over as soon as he could. She pushed her hair out of her eyes and turned round, bracing herself for the squelch.

She was most magnificently disappointed as a fully-fledged zap hit her straight between the eyes.

Josh Adams! It had been real after all. Her mouth opened and closed.

As always, he knew just what to do and gathered her up into the most enormous bear-hug. Tears sprang to her eyes as the overwhelming ache of months spent missing him without properly realising it crashed over her. She buried her face in his shoulder, letting his T-shirt absorb the moisture.

A gentle cough somewhere to their right disturbed them.

Fern pulled out of Josh’s arms, although their eyes were locked on each other and they were both grinning like maniacs. ‘Simon, meet my old friend Josh,’ she said, still staring and still doing the maniac thing.

Josh gave her a wink and tore his gaze away to look at Simon and offered him his hand. Fern turned to look at him too. Yep, there was the squelch she’d been expecting. It didn’t even hit her right between the eyes. It just kind of wafted towards her half-heartedly and landed in a blob at her feet.

‘Nice to meet you,’ Josh said as he released Simon’s hand. ‘Are you Fern’s…?’

Simon, who had been looking uncharacteristically tense round the jaw, brightened and opened his mouth to speak.

‘Friend!’ she blurted out, before he had a chance to mouth the first syllable. ‘Simon is a really good friend of mine. He did most of the organisation for the bungee jump.’

Josh clapped him on the shoulder with the flat of his hand and almost sent Simon flying. ‘Good man. In that case, let’s get over there and sign these forms so the money can start rolling in. After that—’he looked at Fern and her tummy did a triple-flip ‘—I’m taking you out for coffee so we can catch up on the last few months.’

She raised an eyebrow. ‘Try eighteen.’

He frowned. ‘Has it really been that long?’

She nodded and gave him a rueful smile. How could she forget that Christmas at the Adams’s when he’d come home with the awful Amber? The darn woman had hardly been able to leave him alone. It had been embarrassing to watch her grope him over—and probably under—the table while they’d had Christmas lunch. Not that Josh had seemed to mind. Yes, that had been the year Fern had gone home early with a migraine.

He frowned again. ‘In that case, I’d better buy you a really big coffee.’

‘That’s more like it. One with syrup in and whipped cream on top.’

Josh pulled a face, but she was undeterred. She was feeling rather fuzzy and low blood sugar was as good an explanation as any. Truth was she’d have drunk river water if it would give her a chance to spend a little more time with him before he dashed off to the next far-flung place. They’d been close once. Almost like brother and sister. Almost.

They had the kind of bond that didn’t require constant telephone messages or texts, or even letters—and you could forget Christmas cards. She doubted Josh even had a list—but she’d seen too little of him in the last few years. It would be nice to have a chance to talk to someone who remembered Ryan.

Almost two decades had passed since her brother had died and the friends she’d known at the time were somebody else’s friends now. And there was no point taking a trip down memory lane with her parents. They still found the whole subject far too distressing.

‘Come on, then,’ she said, tugging at his arm. ‘There’s a nice little coffee shop down by the river.’

Josh saluted her, then turned to smile at Simon. ‘Don’t you just love it when she gets all bossy like this?’

Simon opened his mouth to speak but no sound came out. In the end, he just nodded. ‘Bye,’ he croaked as they disappeared off the brown field site and joined the jostling city again.

Fern stood behind Josh in the queue at the coffee shop and tried desperately not to slide into a time warp where she was a shy thirteen-year-old harbouring a desperate crush on the boy next door. Unrequited, of course.

You’re a grown woman now, she told herself. Enough.

But all her stern warnings couldn’t banish the giddy feeling in her tummy when he turned round, winked and handed her a cardboard cup with a plastic lid. ‘There you go. One large mocha with whipped cream.’

The giddiness upgraded itself into proper vertigo and she hadn’t even got the sugar rush from the chocolate yet.

‘Thanks.’

She knew what would happen now. She would drop her coffee, dribble it down her front or tip it all over him. Josh had always had this effect on her—at least since she’d had hormones in sufficient numbers for them to short-circuit her coordination. Since then, the warm, safe feeling she’d always got when he’d been around was counterbalanced with a jittery nervousness.

He’d always teased her for being clumsy, but the truth was she was only ever like it around him. And, after fifteen years of beating her hormones into submission, they had decided to stage one last revolt. Little traitors.

‘Let’s walk,’ he said, nodding towards the door. She readily agreed. Morning coffee was blending into early lunch and the tables were packed tightly. Too many elbows and chair legs to avoid.

Once clear of the café, they crossed the road and ambled along the Thames Embankment. She loved the wide stone paths and solid walls, the outrageously ornate Victorian lampposts set at regular intervals. Bulbous-headed black fish gazed at her from the base of the lamps and wound their tails up the posts.

After walking for a few minutes in silence, they naturally gravitated to a quiet stretch of wall and stopped to lean on the smooth granite, their cups of coffee balanced in front of them. Josh nodded towards the crane poking above the skyline.

‘That was quite a rush, wasn’t it?’

Rush? Never had she felt such pure terror as when she’d been hurtling towards the ground, sure the bungee cord would snap or that her ankles would slide loose.

‘Yes,’ she mumbled, glad she had a good excuse to lie. Josh would never understand.

‘I thought for a moment, when I heard you say no, that you were going to chicken out.’

Fern stopped watching the light play on the water as it lapped against the wall below her. ‘I said no?’

Josh nodded. ‘I think so.’

Fern bit her lip. Darn, darn, darn. All that for nothing! She’d shot herself in the foot before she’d even jumped. She felt like giving herself a hefty slap on the forehead, but that would have required an explanation she wasn’t ready to give. Instead she turned round and leaned her bottom against the cool stone and stared at the traffic racing along Victoria Embankment.

‘Come on, Fern. Don’t beat yourself up about it. Everyone is a little nervous on their first jump. It’s only natural.’

She twisted just her head to look at him. ‘Were you?’

He half-coughed, half-laughed. ‘Well, no…but that doesn’t matter, does it?’

Fern could feel the coffee churning inside her and looked down at her stomach. Yesterday, she’d been so sure this challenge of Lisette’s was going to be a piece of cake and now she’d blown it. Stupid, stupid girl! All she’d had to do was say ‘yes’. Such a tiny word. Not that difficult. Lisette was right; she was far too used to saying the opposite and a moment of subconscious muttering had cost the Leukaemia Research Trust nine hundred pounds.

‘What you said up there doesn’t matter,’ he continued. ‘It’s cancelled out by the fact that…Hey, look at me…’

She looked sideways at him, her head still bowed forward. He raised his eyebrows, waiting. There was no point resisting Josh when he got all determined like this. She turned to face him and looked straight into his melting brown eyes.

‘It’s cancelled out by the fact that you did it anyway. You turned the no into a yes by your actions. And actions are what count.’

She blinked. That sounded a bit like wiggling out on a technicality. Could she just gloss over it? Tell Lisette she hadn’t said no all week?

The smallest of smiles started on her lips, barely a curve. Focusing on the small print, Lisette hadn’t exactly said she couldn’t say the word no, had she? She just wasn’t allowed to use it as an answer to a direct question. And she hadn’t been asked a question on top of the crane. She’d been talking to herself.

It truly didn’t count. A sigh of relief escaped her lips and she rested her elbows on the parapet once more. Josh’s left forearm was only six inches away from her right one. Not close enough to suggest the intimacy of a boyfriend-girlfriend relationship, but close enough for her to feel the heat of him.

Josh moved the arm closest to her and gave her a gentle prod in the ribs with his elbow. ‘What are you smiling to yourself about?’

‘I really did it, didn’t I?’

He grinned back at her. ‘Yes, you really did. You were really brave.’

The smile waned and the crease reappeared between her brows. ‘Don’t be silly! I’m not brave, not like you. You must have done hundreds of those jumps.’

He sidled up closer so their arms were touching. The breath caught in her throat.

‘You’ve got it the wrong way round. I’m not brave when I do a bungee jump. It doesn’t take anything for me to do it. I love it. But you…’

The way he was looking at her, full of warmth and admiration, made her mouth dry.

‘…I know you’re not mad keen on heights. For you, it was brave.’ One corner of Josh’s mouth lifted in a smile. ‘And that’s why I have a proposition for you.’