Page 32 of Wife After Wife
“I said I’m fine,” she said, bringing him out of his trance.
“Thank goodness,” said Charles. “That was quite a knock. I think we should adjourn to the bar for a restorative drink. What say you, team?”
“Yes, I hear Pimm’s is the best thing for a blow to the head,” said Megan. She linked her arm through Charles’s. “Come on, Harry. I think the first round should be on you.”
“You go ahead and get them in, I’ll make sure Ana’s OK.”
Megan seemed very happy with this plan and set off back to the clubhouse. Harry saw Charles slip an arm around her waist.
He turned his attention back to Ana, who was now sitting up on the court. He held out his hand. “Up you come, let’s make properly sure you’re OK.”
She ignored the hand and stood up. “Really, I’m fine.” She brushed herself down, then put her hand up to her temple. “I might have a lump tomorrow, but no proper damage done. Good game, by the way. Your backhand’s a killer.”
“And that was terrific volleying,” replied Harry. “Do you play a lot?”
“Not enough. I’m trying to get my fiancé more into it. He’s into adventure sports. Likes skiing and rock climbing, that sort of thing.”
“An Action Man. What does he do?”
“Advertising.” She met his eyes for a moment. “Shall we join Megan and Charles, then?”
“If you’re sure you’re OK?”
“I’m fine.” She grabbed her racquet cover, and Harry retrieved the remaining tennis balls.
Harry was disappointed by her change in demeanor. Their on-court combat, their tunneled focus on each other, had been intoxicating. Ana had been a blur of long limbs, flying ponytail, and dark, flashing eyes, determined not to let anything past. Now he saw it as a metaphor for her likely response to any move from him.
Which, of course, would be the worst possible direction he could take, for so many reasons.
As he followed her along the path, trying not to stare at her delectable legs, the reasons why came at him. Katie was pregnant. Ana was Merry’s sister. She was about to start working at Rose. She was Megan’s friend and flatmate.
Any one of those should have been enough to stop him in his tracks. It would be utterly foolhardy. And besides, she was making it patently clear she wasn’t interested. She had a fiancé, and she was obviously an intelligent, talented woman. Why would she put her relationship and career at risk because the boss had taken a fancy to her?
There, he’d admitted it. To himself, at least. He was entranced. Enamored. Spellbound. And the most worrying part was, he’d never felt this way before.
They reached the clubhouse, and he saw Charles and Megan looking at each other in a way that had nothing to do with old friends reunited.
Oh dear. It had been a wonderful evening, but it seemed life was about to become even more complicated.
CHAPTER 13
Katie
I’m dreading it, Cass,” said Katie, slipping the new R.E.M. CD into the music system. She balanced a speaker on the windowsill so they could listen outside, then carried their plates of pasta onto the patio, which was radiating warmth after a hot June day.
Tonight was Charles and Harry’s tennis night, so Katie had invited Cassandra over for a bite to eat. They were discussing next week’s launch party for theRack.
“That’ll be me,” Katie said as Michael Stipe sang about being in the corner. “Except I won’t be losing my religion. God’s a lot more reliable than Harry.”
“Nonsense, darling. It’ll be fine.” Cassandra lifted a forkful of fettuccine to her mouth. “Mm, only you can make a simple bowl of pasta taste this divine. And it’s looking so lovely out here.” She picked up her glass of wine, waving it around at the terra-cotta pots bursting with color, and the neat lawn and herbaceous borders beyond.
“Nothing much else to do,” said Katie. “I get quite excited when I spot a greenfly to spray.”
Cassandra’s glass was already empty. She poured herself another. “I use soap and water now. I’m trying to be organic. It’s quite the thing.” She took a large mouthful of wine. “Christ, Katie, when did we get tobe old ladies discussing gardening? Anyway, don’t knock boredom. You’ll be longing for boredom when Sprog Two arrives.”
Katie had gone on early maternity leave from the fertility clinic, because the boss thought it would be “inappropriate” for an obviously pregnant woman to be counseling clients about their fertility problems. She missed it. Maria was now at nursery school, and other than helping with the occasional church function, Katie was finding it difficult to fill the long days. June had been hot, and she’d spent much of it lying on the couch watching daytime TV, thinking far too much about how things had changed between her and Harry and what she could do about it. Maybe the baby would help.
This pregnancy hadn’t been easy. There had been blood pressure problems, and her obstetrician warned her to avoid exertion and stress. This heat wasn’t helping one bit. Thanks to her training, she was well aware that a previous stillbirth and miscarriages meant an increased probability of it happening again, and for that reason she took seriously the advice to spend as much time as she could resting.
