Behind the Film Star's Smile (9 page)

The dog just looked trustingly at her.

It was enough to break her heart all over again. Remembering how Comet had looked trustingly at her and Matt. They hadn’t been able to keep Comet safe. Matt hadn’t been able to keep himself safe, either.

She dragged in a breath. ‘Is it ever going to stop hurting, Baloo? Am I ever going to be able to move on?’

The dog licked her.

‘I want to, I really do. And I think I want to move on with Luke.’ She enjoyed his company. He made her world feel brighter. ‘But what if that goes wrong? What if someone hurts him? There are some seriously crazy people out there, people who’ll try to hurt others to get their two minutes or whatever of fame.’ She sighed. ‘I’m a mess. I’m not ready for this. Maybe I need to start backing off.’

Baloo whined.

‘Come on. Time for the park. No stupid muggers are going to scare us off,’ she said, straightening her shoulders, and set off with the dog.

*

Luke walked into the production office as usual after shooting had finished for the day.

‘Come and have dinner with us?’ he asked.

She wanted to say yes, she really did. But the look of sympathy on his face made the tears prick at the back of her eyelids again. Supposing they went out and she ended up sobbing all over him again? She couldn’t face it. It had been bad enough having a meltdown in his trailer. ‘Please don’t think I’m being rude,’ she said carefully, ‘and it’s really nice of you to ask, but I don’t think I can face going out tonight.’

He shrugged. ‘OK. We’ll go back to mine and I’ll cook for you.’

She shook her head. ‘That’s really kind of you, but no.’

‘You’ve had a horrible day,’ he said softly. ‘It’s brought back a lot of bad memories for you and, although you might think you want to be alone, I think you really need some company.’

Why did he have to be so nice? So understanding? Why couldn’t he be the archetypal arrogant millionaire type, the sort who never gave a second thought to anyone else and their needs—the sort she’d want to push into a puddle? Someone as inconsiderate and mean as Luke’s leading lady in the film? Someone she could despise instead of want to be with?

She didn’t trust herself to answer and just stared mutely at him.

‘If you don’t want to go to my place, we’ll go to yours—and I’ll cook.’

Help. The idea of Luke McKenzie in her tiny galley kitchen, working with her in such intimate surroundings... ‘You don’t have to cook for me. Besides, I haven’t been shopping this week and my fridge is pretty empty.’ Way to go, Jess. Couldn’t you have come up with a more feeble excuse? she berated herself.

‘Then we’ll get a pizza delivered,’ he said.

She panicked. ‘I’m not supposed to have dogs.’

‘If your landlord complains, I’ll explain that it’s my fault and charm him out of giving you any hassle.’ He smiled at her. ‘Being charming is part of my job description, remember.’

She knew he was right. Although part of her wanted to be alone, left to her own devices she would just curl into a ball and sob herself to sleep. She probably did need company.

‘OK,’ she said, knowing she was beaten. ‘Thank you.’ And she followed him and Baloo to his car.

CHAPTER EIGHT

W
HEN
L
UKE
PARKED
in the street outside Jess’s house, she climbed out of the car. ‘Bring Baloo in and I’ll get you a parking permit.’

She unlocked the front door, very aware of how dark and cramped her flat would seem to him after his light, spacious townhouse, and walked through to the kitchen. She grabbed the parking permit pad from the drawer and swiftly scribbled out the details.

Luke and Baloo came into the kitchen just as she’d finished.

‘You just need to add your car registration number,’ she said, handing Luke the permit and a pen.

He filled in the last bit, and Baloo whined and barked as he left to put the permit in his car.

Jess dropped to her knees and put her arms round the dog’s neck. ‘Shh, sweetheart. If next door hears you, then we’ll be toast. He’ll tell the landlord.’

Baloo whined and licked her cheek.

She made a fuss of the dog and then put the kettle on.

When Luke came back into the kitchen, she didn’t look round. ‘Sorry, I don’t have a posh coffee-making machine like yours, but I do have decent coffee.’ She took the jar of ground coffee from the fridge and shook some into a cafetière.

*

Jess was really nervous, Luke thought, but he had absolutely no idea why. Did she think he’d look down on her because she didn’t have a posh flat with a river view?

‘So can you recommend a pizza delivery place?’ he asked.

‘I guess.’ She rummaged in a drawer and took out a flyer. ‘I normally get a thin crust.’

‘Fine by me. Margherita?’

‘Whatever.’

She sounded so tired, so hurt. He wanted to hold her close and tell her that he’d never let anything bad happen to her again. But it was a promise he couldn’t keep. Life had a nasty habit of throwing curveballs. Besides, he didn’t want to spook her. There was a fine line between being supportive and smothering her.

He called the pizza place to order dinner.

‘Would you like some wine?’ she asked when he put the phone down again.

‘I’m driving, so better stick to something soft—but don’t let that stop you.’

She shook her head. ‘I’m fine. I’m not going to bother.’

Luke noticed how plain everything was. How bare the kitchen surfaces were. Given how close she’d seemed to her sister and best friend, he’d expected to see photographs of them all together, held to the fridge with magnets—but there was nothing. This didn’t feel like a home, and it certainly didn’t feel as if it belonged to the Jess he’d come to know. The flat felt as anonymous as a hotel suite, just a place to live.

She ushered him through to the living room; he sat on the small sofa, and Baloo settled herself on the floor by his feet. There was a small bistro table like the one on his balcony, with two chairs. There were a couple of prints on the walls that Luke guessed had come with the furnished flat, because they were as bland and anonymous as the decor. There were no photographs or any kind of ornament on the fireplace—no pictures of her husband or her family or the dog.

It was as if Jess had just shut everything away.

The pizza, when it finally arrived, was really indifferent. Not that Luke cared. He was more worried about Jess. She’d closed off on him.

‘Shall I make us some more coffee?’ he asked.

She shrugged, as if it was too much effort to disagree.

He couldn’t leave her like this. He walked over to her, scooped her out of her chair, and sat down in her place, settling her onto his lap and holding her close. ‘Jess, talk to me.’

She just looked at him, her green eyes huge and her face chalk-white again.

‘It’s better out than in,’ he said, knowing himself to be a total hypocrite because he never talked about the real reason he and Fleur had broken up. How often those same words had been said to him, too.
Better out than in
. He wouldn’t know.

A tear slid slowly down her cheek. ‘It’s an anniversary.’

Anniversary? he thought. It couldn’t be the murder. She’d said it was over a year ago since she’d lost Matt and Comet.

‘I was pregnant when Matt died.’

Luke went cold. The one topic that he never wanted to talk about. Pregnancy.

But if he stopped her talking now, he’d have to explain. He didn’t want to do that. He didn’t want Jess to know how much of a failure he was.

She dragged in a breath. ‘I had a fight with Matt, the morning of the day he was killed. I can’t even remember what it was about. Something trivial. I felt sick all morning, and then it hit me that my period was late. I bought a test. It was positive. So I thought maybe that’s why I’d been so touchy and we’d had that fight—it was all just stupid hormones. I should’ve called him and told him right there and then, but I wanted to wait until he got home. I wanted to tell him face to face, and say sorry.’

Except she hadn’t had the chance, Luke thought, so Matt had never known that he was going to be a father.

Luke knew he ought to say something but he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to comfort her. Just as he’d failed to comfort his wife and failed to give her the baby she’d wanted so much.

Not wanting Jess to see his face and guess that something was wrong, he enfolded her in another hug. ‘The anniversary?’ he prompted.

‘I lost the baby.’ She dragged in a breath. ‘I know miscarriages are really common in early pregnancy, but even so it was the last straw for me. I wanted that baby so much.’

Just like Fleur. Jess had wanted a baby with Matt. If Luke let her get any closer to him, maybe she’d start wanting a baby with him, too. The one thing he couldn’t give her.

‘I thought I still had something left of him. When I lost the baby, I lost the last link to him. And I felt so guilty.’

‘Oh, honey. I don’t know what to say.’

And he didn’t know how to stop her hurting. How to stop himself hurting. Though wild horses wouldn’t drag that information from him.

How different his life might have been if he hadn’t had mumps when he was ten. He could’ve had a son. A daughter. Maybe one of each.

Then again, he wouldn’t have met Jess. He wouldn’t have been here with her right now, holding her. So maybe things happened for a reason.

‘It wasn’t your fault.’ He kissed her gently. ‘Jess. Is that why you don’t have any photos up?’

‘Because I feel guilty and I can’t face it?’ She rested her forehead against his. ‘Yes.’

‘Do you still have photos?’

‘They’re packed away.’

‘You need to look at them, Jess, not shut them out of your life. They’re part of who you are.’

She looked at him, her face full of misery.

‘Show me,’ he said softly.

He thought she was going to refuse. Then she nodded, slid off his lap and left the room. She was gone for so long that he was at the point of going to look for her; but then she walked in with a large box.

There were framed pictures on the top. She handed him the first one in silence.

Clearly she’d married Matt when they were both in their very early twenties; they both looked young and fresh-faced. Matt looked like a decent guy; and in the photograph his face was full of love.

‘You were a beautiful bride,’ Luke said softly. ‘You look so happy together. Anyone can see how you really loved each other.’ He stroked her hair back from her face. ‘Hold on to that, Jess. There was always the love there.’

Though in a way he knew he was a hypocrite. He couldn’t stand to look at his own wedding photographs, because he was scared he’d see traces of Fleur’s faithlessness in them even then.

More framed photographs: her graduation, and Matt’s. A picture of a woman in a wedding dress and Jess in what was clearly a bridesmaid’s dress; they resembled each other enough for him to guess that the bride was Jess’s sister Carly. A second wedding picture, again with Jess in what looked like a bridesmaid’s dress, smiling broadly with a bride. ‘Is that Shannon?’ he asked.

She nodded. ‘My best friend.’

Group pictures—Jess and what he assumed were her family in a garden, with a dog smack in the middle of the group that just had to be Comet. Jess cuddling babies; those pictures made his stomach knot, but he wasn’t going to let her know how much it affected him. This was about her, not the mess of his life. It was about her taking control and taking her life back. And he wanted to help her do that. Lend her some of his strength.

After the framed pictures, there were albums. Jess’s wedding. An album of family pictures—weddings, christenings, candid shots at Christmas and on summer afternoons. Pictures of a tiny spaniel puppy with a snub nose and floppy ears; more pictures of the dog as he grew up and filled out, his ears and nose growing longer, feathery hair appearing on his legs. Pictures of Matt in uniform with the dog. Another picture that looked as if it commemorated some kind of bravery award.

‘Comet,’ she whispered.

As if hearing the distress in Jess’s voice, Baloo came over to put her chin on Jess’s knee.

The tiny gesture was the one to make Jess crack again, and she cried all over Luke and Baloo.

He held her until her sobs died down, and Baloo licked Jess’s face anxiously.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered eventually.

‘Don’t apologise. It’s fine.’

‘I’ve given you such a rubbish evening.’

‘Actually, you haven’t. You’ve given me trust, and you’ve told me things you haven’t told anyone else. That’s worth a lot.’ He paused. ‘Jess. Do you want me to stay?’

‘You can’t. Baloo,’ she said.

‘Then come and stay at mine. You can’t be alone tonight.’

She shook her head. ‘Right now, I think I need some space. But I appreciate the offer.’ She stroked his face. ‘Thank you. You’ve been utterly brilliant.’

‘I’m just glad I could be there for you,’ Luke said, and was shocked to realise how much he meant that. It wasn’t just a kind platitude—he really was glad that he’d made Jess talk to him and open her heart.

Just as long as she didn’t expect him to do the same. Because he just couldn’t admit to how much of a failure he really was.

‘Do you want me to call anyone for you? Carly? Shannon?’

She shook her head. ‘I’ll be OK. Really. I think I just need a bath and an early night. But thank you for being here.’ She hugged him. ‘I’ll call you tomorrow.’

‘OK. If you change your mind, just call me. I’ll come and get you.’

‘Thank you.’

Maybe he was pushing her now, but he didn’t want her to go back into her shell, the way he suspected she’d done after Matt and Comet were killed and she’d lost the baby. ‘Are we still on for tomorrow?’ he asked.

‘Tomorrow?’ She looked dazed. ‘What about tomorrow?’

‘Last weekend, you said you’d cook for me and we’d take Baloo out on the Thames Path.’

For a moment, he thought she was going to back out, but then she gave him a weary smile. ‘I swear you’re channelling my sister.’

‘I am. Nagging’s good. And I’ll buy cake.’

‘You’ll leave Baloo on her own in your house, for long enough to go to the shop and buy cake?’ she asked.

‘Well, someone gave me some very good advice about a toy stuffed with treats. Which will distract her for long enough for me to buy not just cake, but
awesome
cake.’ He kissed her very lightly. ‘Say yes.’

She dragged in a breath. ‘Yes. And I promise not to cry all over you tomorrow.’

‘Deal,’ he said. What he really wanted to do was to carry her to his car, take her back to his place and just hold her until she slept, but he knew she needed some space. ‘Mañana,’ he said, kissing her one last time.

When he’d gone, Jess headed to the bathroom, leaving the box of photographs where it was. She couldn’t face putting them all away again. Not right now.

The bath didn’t help much. She cleaned the kitchen, then dragged herself to bed, and finally fell asleep with tears seeping down her cheeks again.