Out of Bounds (24 page)

And he knew it.

He hated that his marriage had been a mess.
Hated being the last son to establish his own family. Hated the way
his parents fawned over his younger brothers and their kids—and
barely acknowledged his existence.

He hated even more that he let it matter.

Ahead of him a truck swung out across the
road prior to reversing into an alley. Rafe slowed and then stopped
to give the driver space.

The wind from the sea had risen. A flag
flapped and rattled on a nearby pole. An empty Coke can tumbled
along the gutter. Inside his Jaguar with the volume up high, Rafe
saw both but heard neither. ‘Satisfaction’ seemed a long way
off.

He sucked in a deep breath and tried to drag
his brain onto something else.

His eyes drifted to the legs of a high-heeled
blonde as she edged through a nearby doorway with a sign-board. The
wind tugged at the long tendrils of her hair, concealing part of
her face with a sexy golden veil, but still something about her
seemed familiar.

Then the hem of her filmy blue skirt flipped
up and Rafe sharpened his attention.

To the girl’s obvious consternation the
sign-board started to collapse, and he easily lip-read her short
sharp curse. His mouth quirked at her frustration, and he watched
as she batted at her flying hair with one hand and clutched the
sign with the other.

Recognition streaked through him then—an
assistant of Faye’s. Josie or Susie, something like that. Maybe his
ambitious ex-wife had new premises he didn’t know about? Was she
going up in the world or down?

A combination of curiosity and his
grandmother’s long ingrained code of chivalry made him turn the big
car into a vacant space and kill the engine and the music. At that
instant a more vigorous gust of wind wrenched the sign right out of
the girl’s hands and flung it onto the sidewalk. The two halves
parted company and she jumped onto one to hold it down, for all the
world like a child playing hopscotch. The other flew up and hit the
front of his car.

There was a bang. A crunch. A sound that
could only be bad. Rafe added his own curse to hers and swung his
long body out. He closed the door with a savage ‘thunk’ and strode
around to assess the damage.

The girl stayed frozen, all legs and flying
skirt and hair, as though she was perched on her own little
surfboard.

Once she’d gathered the gleaming strands up
in both hands her mouth became a perfect ‘o’ of horror and her eyes
grew almost as round.

Rafe’s quick inspection confirmed his corner
light needed repairing in a hurry. He shot her a glacial glare.
“Nice work.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said in a crushed
voice.

Not trusting himself to speak further, he dug
out his mobile and started running through the presets to find the
Jaguar dealer.

“So,
so
sorry,” she repeated. “I’ll
pay for it somehow.”

“Of course you will.”

“It was a total accident,” she added with a
hint of defensiveness.

Rafe held up a hand to silence her as the
dealership answered. He turned away to conduct his conversation and
concluded it with, “Around two? Thanks buddy—I owe you.”

He returned his gaze to the girl. She stood
very straight now, clutching her half of the sign with an absolute
death grip and looking as though she expected the guillotine blade
to fall any second.

Christ man, lighten up! It wasn’t her fault
and they can fix the car this afternoon.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he said, softening his
manner as he took in her obvious panic. “No-one’s fault. It was
only the thought of not being able to use the car tonight.”

“Bad things seem to happen in threes,” she
said. “At least that’s the whole three out of the way. First your
light. Then not being able to use your car. And third, my broken
sign. I really need that sign.”

Rafe turned and picked up the other piece of
sign-board, undamaged apart from its hinged top. “It’ll never stay
together with these tiny screws. It’s Josie, isn’t it?”

She shook her head. “Sophie. And you’re Mr
Severino. I worked—”

“—for Faye. Yes, I know. I’ll fix the sign
for you.”

“Why would you do that? After I damaged your
car?”

He ignored the sharpness in her query. He’d
over-reacted. No wonder she sounded prickly.

“Because I’m a helpful kind of guy. Is Faye
about?”

“Faye? Faye and I—have gone our separate
ways,” she muttered, avoiding his eyes.

“That’s apparently the current thing to do.
Faye and I have also gone our separate ways.”

“No! When?” she blurted, looking at him with
those wide grey eyes again. Then she recovered her manners. “Sorry.
I’m surprised. I didn’t know. I thought you were the perfect
couple.”

His mouth flattened into a grim smile.

“That was my understanding too, until a few
months ago.”

So Faye’s been hiding the fact we’ve
divorced? Interesting.

He inspected the sign more closely. “Is this
place any good?”

“Very good indeed.”

He sensed defiance or defensiveness in the
three abrupt words. He waited for her to say more. She didn’t.

He thought of his almost finished house and
its current unloved interior. “I need a decorator. Someone as good
as Faye.”

She rolled her eyes at that. “I’m better than
Faye. I actually listen to what customers want.”

“You work for this place?”

“I
am
this place.” She turned away and
pushed at the door, indicating he should follow. “There’s only me.
I opened today—or would have if the crummy sign hadn’t fallen
apart.”

“I’ll fix it for you,” he repeated as he
followed her inside. The sign was competently painted but the
carpentry looked dire. Would offering his expertise make up for his
initial burst of temper? He hoped so. “I suppose you used the
screws supplied with the hinges?” he asked, and then surprised
himself by adding, “Have you got any more sensible shoes?”

“What?” she demanded, apparently thrown by
his change of subject.

“As I said, I need a decorator now I don’t
have Faye. I’ve been letting things slide. Do you want to see my
house and submit a proposal? It’s still a bombsite. You won’t get
around it in those.” He eyed her high-heeled sandals, and the slim
ankles and light golden calves above them, pleased to have the
excuse to inspect her openly.

“You’re serious? A proposal to decorate your
house? Faye’s house? After I damaged your car?”

“Forget the car. It’s fixable. Yes—the house
above the water. But it’s not Faye’s any longer.”

He watched as she squeezed her big eyes shut
and buried her even white teeth in the cushion of her lower
lip.

“I can’t just drop everything,” she objected
after a few seconds. “I’ve stuff to arrange.”

“Pretend you’re not open for business yet.
It’s only nine-fifteen.”

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