Part 27 (1/2)

'h.e.l.lo, Adam,' said the smiling red lips of the last person in the world he expected to see.

Stevie pulled into the gym car park next to a red Golf. Jo had a red Golf, although it was hardly likely to be her car, thank goodness. At least in the gym Stevie was spared the sight of her destructive beauty, daring her to confront Jo with what she had done. Stevie had once purposefully confronted Linda and come off worst, and vowed she would never again sacrifice her dignity like that, but if she b.u.mped accidentally into Jo MacLean she couldn't guarantee that her primal instincts wouldn't take over, leading her to launch herself at her rival and punch her treacherous, lying face in. She wanted to hurt her more for what she had done to her son's life than her own. It was just as well it wasn't Jo's car, after all.

She transferred the burst of energy that her sudden fury had triggered off in her by managing to do a fifteen-minute run on the treadmill, her best yet. She had grown to like coming to the gym. The physical exercise of running cleared her headeven if it was on a rubber belt indoors and not in the fresh air and the suns.h.i.+ne. Having such a sedentary job, she needed to get her heart pumping a bit more, although it had been on an emotional treadmill that had made it pump quite enough recently. At least it would all be over soon. One way or another.

Matthew had always been smiling in the old days when they had been together. Now every time Stevie saw him, he looked totally miserable. Crazy, really, when he had everything he set out to get. Jo didn't look much happier, either. She was always scowling, which was warped because Stevie had nothing she wanted. Jo had Matthew and his house and, with a snap of her fingers, she could have had Adam and his big house back. She couldn't imagine that Jo was jealous of her figure and short legs, so if she wasn't happy with the lot she had created for herself, then she could rot in h.e.l.l as far as Stevie was concerned. Some people just wanted what they couldn't have, until they got itonly to find they didn't want it after all.

She had a quick shower and went back to her car to find that the red Golf had gone, and that someone had sc.r.a.ped their key viciously along her driver's side door.

When Matthew got home, Jo was still in bed. She looked really ill actually, pale and puffy-eyed, from a lot of crying.

'You need to take tomorrow off work too,' he said, soothing her brow.

'No, I need to go to work tomorrow more than anything,' she said, shrinking away from his hand. 'Please, Matthew, just leave me alone.'

And so he did.

'Guess what? Mum got stinged last night,' said Danny, flinging himself at Adam as he came in through the door.

'Yes, I know, I was there,' he said, attempting a smile, but he felt so tired, so drained.

'Come on, Danny, let Adam get in through the door,' said Stevie, pulling him gently away.

'Honey is bees' poo.'

'Danny!'

'That's what Curtis Ryder says. And milk is cows' wee. Mrs Apple Crumble made him sit on the naughty chair today for trumping in storytime.'

'Mrs Abercrombie did the right thing then, didn't she?'

Despite his far from jolly spirits, Adam let loose a lion's-lungsworth of laughter. It felt so good to laugh, he needed to laugh and it felt even better to be home with a family, even though it wasn't his home or his family. Nevertheless, he was grateful for the welcoming presence of a child and the warm no-nonsense of a woman.

'I don't know where they get these ideas from,' said Stevie crossly.

'Well, that Curtis Ryder has things a little wrong there,' said Adam. 'Bees make honey for food, and they have been doing so for millions and millions of years. They collect pollen as food for their young.'

'Wow!' said Danny.

'Chicken nuggets!' Stevie alerted her son to the table. Was it her imagination, or had Adam MacLean given special emphasis to certain words just then? She had only seen the man for five minutes today and already she wanted to slap him.

'So, any mair news from Midnight Moon?' he casually asked later, whilst checking the television page.

'No, why would there be?'

'I have no idea why there would beee.'

Stevie put down her sewing. Danny's collars were getting ruined but there would be h.e.l.l on if she threw this pyjama top away. It was one she had converted from an ordinary blue top to Dannyman super-pyjamas.

'Why are you looking at me as if you want me to buzz awf?' asked Adam with an angelic smile.

'You know, don't you?'

'Know what?' He looked so much the picture of innocence he should have been hung in the National Gallery. Or was it 'hanged'? Either sounded good to Stevie.

'Okay, I write Midnight Moon trashy, c.r.a.ppy romance books for a living. Satisfied?'

He jumped back in mock surprise. 'Naw!'

'I presume Crystal said far more than you admitted.'

'Perhaps. I seem to recall an extra minor detail or two.'

'Yes, I can imagine. Anyway, you may not like them, Mr MacLean, but thousands of other people do!' What was it about the man that got under her skin so much? He was the human equivalent of ringworm.

'I'm sure they do.'

Commonsense told her to walk away and go to her office. His mocking was attracting to him the anger that was swirling inside her for Jo; for her scratched car; for Matthew's pathetic unhappy face; and most of all for Adam b.l.o.o.d.y MacLean because she couldn't stop thinking about his lips on her arm. All afternoon her imagination had been taking those lips and putting them on other places on her body, and she didn't know why but she couldn't seem to stop herself. This wasn't in 'the plan'. But she did not walk away from his baiting. She not only took it, but she stuck her teeth into it too.

'In fact, I don't know why I didn't tell you before. It's not as if I should be ashamed. There's a skill involved, unlike managing a place where people pay an obscene amount of money just to lift up heavy objects and sweat!'

Oh, she wants to fight, does she? he thought, crossing his arms and preparing for battle.

'So, is that all I do then? And there was me thinking I work quite hard for my money.' He knew the next bit would infuriate her, but he didn't care. He was enjoying the verbal parry. It was making him forget all about the visitor who had weighed down his head for most of the day. 'Well, at least I don't sit on my b.u.m all day.'

'Me sitting on my b.u.m all day has put money on the table to feed my child. Yes, I'm a Midnight Moon writer and I'm proud of it!' Stevie jutted out her chin and nodded her head by way of an exclamation mark.

'I'm sure sad people all over the world appreciate you.'

This, unfortunately, didn't come out quite as his gentle teasing had intended, adding a pint of petrol to her already blazing temper.

'Yes, sad people with a brain who can do joined-up lettering! You patronizing Scottish git.'

She had a silly smattering of freckles on her nose. He had the sudden desire to kiss them. That would shut her up.

'I was trying to give you a compliment actually.'

'Stick your compliment up ”yer ers”, Mr MacLean,' said Stevie. 'I don't need compliments from a man like you.'

'And what sort of a man am I, Ms Honeywell? I see we're back on formal terms again.'

'The sort of man that I can't wait to see the back of on Sunday! I'm going to work. Good night,' and off she went in the direction of the office, chuntering expletives, to write about Damme MacQueen being thrown off a cliff.

Adam smiled. The angrier she got, the funnier she was, but as soon as Stevie left him, his thoughts started to drift back to the afternoon and a life that felt a million light years away from this crazy set-up. A life he had the chance to go back to. A life with a beautiful house and a beautiful woman in it. The life he had fought to win back. The life he surprisingly found he had won back.

So what was it that was stopping him?