shocked. ‘I lay my passion at your feet and you doubt me. Talking of your feet, I love those golden sandals.’
‘Marianne made me buy them, plus the perfume. I’m really her handiwork.’
‘It’s not Marianne who makes you go in and out in all the right places,’ he mused, allowing his hands to move around hopefully.
‘Down, Fido,’ she said, wagging one gilt-taloned finger at him in mock rebuke. She liked Carl, but she hadn’t quite made up her mind about him.
‘All right—for the moment. You know why Marianne has got involved, don’t you? She’s set her heart on seeing me get married.’
‘Well, she’s wasting her time with me,’ Kelly said with spirit. ‘No more husbands, ever.’
‘Was he really that bad?’
‘Couldn’t tell you. He no longer exists.’
‘Quite right. A lover is far more exciting,’ he murmured in her ear.
‘Maybe, but it can’t be you.’
‘Why?’ he demanded in comic outrage.
‘You’re my tutor. It wouldn’t be proper.’
‘I’ll throw you out of the class tomorrow.’
They laughed together. He drew her close and nibbled her ear, which made her laugh even more, giving him the chance to plant a kiss on her mouth. She kissed him back. Carl was nice.
He wasn’t allowed to enjoy his triumph for long. Frank, another mature student about Kelly’s age, whisked her away.
‘Great little place you’ve found here,’ he yelled above the din.
‘Lovely, isn’t it?’ she yelled back. ‘Thanks for your house-warming present.’ He’d given her a pair of black and white avant garde prints that added the finishing touch to her walls.
‘How are you enjoying your freedom?’ he asked.
‘If I’d known it felt this good I’d have gone for it long ago.’
‘Harmon is your maiden name, right?’
‘Right!’
‘Who was your husband?’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Kelly said, repeating the mantra that had sustained her through the miserable weeks. ‘He’s in the past.’
‘Good for you. That’s the only way to do it.’
When the dance ended they were by the bar. Frank danced off with somebody else while Kelly downed an orange juice.
Marianne sidled up to her. ‘You really are a dark horse, aren’t you?’
‘How do you mean?’
‘I mean that fantastic man who’s just walked in; the one with come-to-bed eyes and that “I’ll have any woman I like” look.’
‘I don’t know any man like that,’ Kelly said regretfully. ‘Where?’
‘Over there. He looks a bit familiar. Now, where have I seen his face before?’
‘On television,’ Kelly said, stunned. ‘And he wasn’t invited.’
‘Well, I’ll be only too pleased to take him off your hands. Honestly, he shouldn’t be allowed out alone. It’s not safe—for any of us. I want everything you know. Starting with “Is he married”?’
Kelly pulled herself together. ‘Not since ten-thirty this morning.’
‘You mean he’s—? He isn’t—?’
‘My ex.’
‘All that was yours, and you let it go?’
Kelly surveyed Jake Lindley, trying to see him through Marianne’s eyes. She knew about the eyes, and the look of knowing that women were clamouring for him. It wasn’t his fault. Women were clamouring for him, and Jake had no false modesty. Or much of any kind, if the truth be told. He’d made a brilliant career as a television journalist by being accurate, hard hitting, colourful and drop-dead gorgeous.
He was thirty-two, in his prime, with a lurking devil in his eyes and a sensual quirk to his mouth that was worth any amount of good looks, except that he had them as well.
But as for him being hers? Had he ever really been hers? She’d been his in every possible way, but she’d never felt, in her heart, that she’d been vital to him. Nor had she ‘let him go’. She’d merely faced the fact that in all important ways he’d gone already.
Marianne murmured, ‘You really don’t mind if I try my luck?’
‘You’re welcome to him,’ Kelly said firmly. Oh, it felt good to be able to say that; not to have to watch jealously. ‘Come on, I’ll introduce you.’
As they weaved their way through the throng of guests Kelly tried to calm down. The sight of Jake had given her a shock because she wasn’t expecting him, but that was all. She was a little annoyed with him for gate-crashing, but apart from that she was cool. A few feet away from him she waved gaily.
‘Jake, how nice to see you,’ she carolled.
He gave her his practised smile. ‘I’m sorry, have we m—? Kelly?’
The sheer blank astonishment in his eyes gave her heart a lift. That had knocked him off his feet. Yes!
‘Let me introduce you to Marianne,’ she said. ‘Marianne—my ex.’
‘If he was mine he’d never be allowed to be an ex,’ Marianne laughed, taking the hand Jake offered her.
‘Kelly just discarded me,’ he sighed. ‘Tossed aside like an old shoe when I’d outlived my usefulness.’ He was looking warmly into Marianne’s eyes.
‘Oh, really, Jake!’ Kelly said in disgust. ‘You can think of a better line than that.’
‘No probs,’ Marianne said hurriedly. ‘That one will do just fine. Jake, why don’t you come and cry on my shoulder…?’
They drifted off together. Kelly grinned unwillingly. She might have known Jake’s poise couldn’t be shaken for more than a moment. Whatever the place, the time, the circumstances, he could simply walk in, be instantly at home, and everyone would act as though they’d been waiting just for him. Right now, for instance, he was the only one at this party not dressed up. He wore the battered denim jeans and jacket over a black vest that he kept for travelling. Far from making him look out of place, the effect was to make everyone else seem overdressed.
His hair was shaggy and unkempt, and his skin lightly tanned. In fact he looked as if he’d just got off a plane after a long flight. Exhausting too, probably, with plenty of turbulence, which tensed him up inside, although only Kelly had ever known that. But, hey, nothing a stiff drink wouldn’t put right! That
