An Ordinary Girl Read online

  “Ash.” James kissed her on the cheek and set the flowers down on a bench. “You look lovely.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Are you off somewhere special? I haven’t interfered with your plans for the morning?”

  “No,” Ash said, and a dark shadow crept over her.

  James tugged her to sit and kept hold of her hand. He took a deep breath and noisily exhaled. “God, Ash, I owe you so much. If it hadn’t been for that bloody stone you couldn’t shift.” He laughed. “You’ve given me back my life.”

  The darkness receded a little and Ash squeezed his fingers. “You only had to reach out and take it. I gave you a push.”

  He snorted. “You gave me a thump. I needed…normality, and you and this garden offered me that. How crazy that it should be this garden that brought me back to life after all that happened.”

  Give me the flowers and this will be what I want it to be. But the flowers stayed where they were—behind him.

  “Lisa will always be part of my life. I think I thought I’d lose her if I found someone else, and you made me see that wasn’t the case.”

  Give me the flowers. Please. Ash pulled back inside herself, hiding in plain sight, sensing what was coming. He let her hand go and his warmth went with it. She flung up shields around her heart. Ah, not for me. Not the flowers, not James, not happiness this day at least.

  “You don’t ever really lose the people you love,” Ash whispered. Nor those you hate, no matter how much you wish you could. “Lisa would want you to be happy.”

  “You’re right.” He took a deep breath. “I’ve something to tell you.”

  Black, snaky tendrils wove through Ash’s body, clogging her throat. The word was tell not ask.She’d wanted to see ask in his message and made this into something it wasn’t, let her housemates think it was something it wasn’t. Oh shit. I’m an idiot. After twenty-seven years, she’d not learned a thing.

  James gave her a shy smile. “I’ve met someone.”

  Ash made sure her face showed nothing more than polite encouragement.

  “She’s someone I’ve worked with over the last few months.”

  Ash was scared she’d make some stupid, croaking sound if she spoke, so she clenched her teeth behind her lips and nodded. A flicker of hope still fought against the dark. It could be me. It could just be his way of—

  “Her name’s Sally.”

  Ash’s lungs stopped working. The flame went out and darkness reigned. No clap of thunder?

  “Say something,” he said with a laugh.

  “I’m— I’m choked up,” Ash blurted. “I’m really pleased for you.”

  He pulled her into his arms and hugged her. Ash struggled to stay in control. If he didn’t want her, then she wasn’t right for him. That’s what she told herself every time. Disappointment wouldn’t kill her. She was glad for James. His wife had died in his arms, and they’d only been married for two years. He needed to move on. Ash let him go, and when she saw the happiness in his face, she was able to smile back.

  “More than pleased. I’m thrilled for you,” she said, and meant it.

  “Only, I did wonder if—” His gaze rose over her shoulder. “Sally’s here.”

  Oh fuck, not that thrilled. Ash spun around. A petite blonde in a flowery dress and red high heels sashayed down the path.

  “I wanted my two special women to meet,” James said.

  When James kissed Sally, Ash stood and curled her toes inside her flat shoes. She’d had a lifetime of learning to smile when she wanted to cry, knowing if she didn’t smile, she’d be made to cry. She was an expert at hiding her feelings. Absolute expert. She swallowed the lump in her throat and made her lips curl up.

  “Sally, this is my angel, Ash.”

  Ash put out her hand, but Sally hugged her. “Thank you. I wish it had been me who brought James back to life, but I’m happy to reap the rewards. He’s a great guy.”

  Ash didn’t miss the look in Sally’s eyes. Hands off. He’s mine.

  James pushed the flowers into Sally’s arms.

  “Oh. They’re lovely, sweetheart, but Ash probably thought they were for her.”

  Bitch. “James knows I prefer to see flowers growing in the ground,” Ash said, aware James knew no such thing. “I’ll have to run now, I’m afraid. I’ve a job interview. Hence the dress.”

  James’ face fell. “I thought we could go for a coffee together.”

  Over Sally’s dead body, judging by her tight mouth.

  Ash kissed James on the cheek and whispered in his ear, “You don’t need me anymore. Be happy.”

  She gathered up her bits and pieces and waved goodbye. Only when Ash was out of the garden did the smile slip and she allowed herself a gasp of pain.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  * * * * *

  Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  Noah didn’t do weddings, fashion or babies—ever—which had to mean he was officially an idiot. In front of him stood a beaming bride in a dress that probably cost thousands. She held a wriggling two-year-old stuffed into a tux, for fuck’s sake. A couple of hours ago, the little devil in her arms had carried the rings down the church aisle on a red, velvet cushion and dropped it. Actually, he’d hurled it. Only the fast reaction of a guest had stopped one of the rings from rolling through the grating that ran down the sides of the pews.

  The kid had wailed when the best man took the cushion from him and only shut up when he gave it back. He’d wailed again when his parents stopped him from running up and down the aisle using the cushion as a football, and finally the little ball of fury had been carried outside, kicking and screaming. Noah had wanted to join him. Instead, he lifted his camera and carried on snapping.

  When Dina had called last night and begged him to take her place at a wedding, he’d said no. She’d broken her leg. Still no. She’d asked everyone else she knew and they were all committed elsewhere. So, I was last choice? Hell no. She’d called him a selfish bastard and a few other choice names, and Noah had been going to say “fuck you” until she told him how much she’d pay and then promptly burst into tears. “All right” had slipped out before he could stop it. Noah preferred to think it was her tears that had swung it.

  Then she told him where the reception was being held, and Noah had been stunned into silence long enough for her to blurt her thanks and put down the phone before he could retract his offer. But having thought about it, the chances of bumping into his father were remote. He kept to his side of Floriton Hall when any events were being held. Noah could do the job and leave without him even knowing he’d been there.

  I hope.

  So, here he was, his body screaming at him, muscles aching, back killing him while he did everything he hated. He photographed shoes, bouquets, beaming guests and caterwauling kids, and took endless shots of the happy couple in every conceivable position. Noah couldn’t remember the name of the bride or groom, and frankly, he didn’t give a fuck. He’d do the job he was being paid for, make sure he covered the list Dina had given him and then go home, soak his body in a bath and pretend none of it had ever happened. He took the list from his pocket. Rings, cake, gardens, shoes, confetti—shit, the thing went on forever. He screwed up the piece of paper and shoved it back into his jacket.

  Dina had sent her assistant to work with him, but after he’d snapped at the wafer-thin twig for getting in his way in the church, the woman appeared to be terrified of him. Dressed head to toe in black, she flitted around like an anorexic bat, shoulders and head down, determined to avoid him.

  Noah circulated in the courtyard, taking pictures as guests ate canapés and drank champagne. As he straightened to get the kink out of his neck, a hand slapped his back, and Noah’s shoulder blades slammed together. He didn’t like to be touched, especially after he’d been to Jenson Street.

  “Can’t tell you how grateful we are you stepped in at the last minute like this,” said a middle-aged guy with gray hair—the bride’s father. Noah didn’
t remember his name either. “My daughter thought the world had ended when Dina called to say she couldn’t come.”

  Noah nodded.

  “Dina said you’re an award-winning photographer.”

  Noah’s jaw tightened. “I don’t do weddings.”

  “You do now.” The guy laughed, another slap looked likely, and Noah lurched away only to collide with something. He spun round and watched a black-haired waitress try in vain to stop an avalanche of canapés from sliding off her tray.

  “Shiiiit,” he heard her hiss. She then said, “Sorry,” in a louder voice.

  Noah kicked a prawn off his shoe.

  An older woman rushed up. “Ash, not again. Look at the mess.”

  “Sorry, Ms. Wood,” the waitress said.

  “Clean it up.” She turned to the bride’s father. “Mr. Kent, I apologize. She’s a last-minute replacement for one of my employees who’s taken sick.”

  Noah glanced at the waitress crouching at his feet. A substitute like him.

  “Dinner’s ready to be served,” said the other woman. “Would you like to ring the gong?”

  The pair walked away, and Noah took a picture of Ash squatting on the flagstone drive, scooping the food back onto the tray. She was cute. He took another shot of her slipping a smoked salmon pinwheel between her lips and then another as she licked her fingers. His cock twitched. Fuck.

  She looked up at him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Having an inappropriate erection” didn’t seem the sensible thing to say.

  “Did you just take my picture?” she asked.

  “Why would I do that?” Why had he done that?

  “Don’t. I don’t like my photograph being taken.” She stood up. “Anyway, it’s the guests you should be snapping, not the waiting staff.” She offered him the tray. “Would you like a canapé, sir?”

  Noah blinked. “They’re covered in dirt.”

  “Pretend it’s pepper. Try that one.” She pointed to the dirtiest, and Noah surprised himself when a snort of laughter escaped his lips.

  “I’ll pass,” he said.

  “Go on, be a devil.”

  Noah selected a clean-looking tiger prawn and ate it as he watched her head back into the house. Tight white blouse, tight black skirt, nice backside, legs to her armpits, hair shorter than his and an attitude. Her hair was darker than it had any right to be, her eyes were greener than grass and she had a face he wanted to eat.

  Once upon a time…

  Noah lifted his camera and carried on doing what he was being paid for.

  Chapter Three

  Ash got lost on the way back to the kitchen. The country house was so huge she’d need to leave a trail of breadcrumbs to find her way around. She opened door after door, saw nobody and nothing seemed familiar. Oil paintings of grim men, uptight women and insipid dogs lined the walls. The chairs looked likely to collapse if anyone sat on them, but since they were roped off, she wasn’t about to try.

  It was only when Ash carried her tray into a billiards room and saw the flat screen TV on the wall that she accepted she was way off course. She turned to exit the way she’d come and heard men’s voices in the corridor behind her. Ash looked for another door, but when she tried it, found it locked. Sighing, she turned around, put her shoulders back and braced herself.

  “He could have spoken to you,” said one man.

  “He will when he’s ready,” said another who sounded older. “Give him time.”

  Two men came in, one middle-aged and distinguished with gray hair, the other a few years older than Ash. He was tall, dark, and if he hadn’t been scowling ferociously at her, Ash might have found him attractive. The men had stopped short when they saw her.

  “What the hell are you doing in here?” the younger one snapped.

  The older man frowned. “You’re not allowed in this part of the house.”

  “I’m very sorry. I got lost.”

  The younger one gave her a scornful look. “You managed to get through a locked door. Looking for something to steal?”

  Ash glowered. “Of course not.”

  “Show her the way back, Ilya.” The older man picked a cue from the rack and chalked the tip.

  “I’m sorry to have intruded,” Ash said to his back, and followed Ilya out of the room.

  “I’m not fooled,” he barked as Ash hurried after him.

  “And I’m not a thief. I was lost.”

  As they turned a corner into another corridor, he spun around and pinned her shoulder to the wall. He was a big, strong guy, and Ash felt a moment of panic. She gripped the tray more firmly. Maybe she could hit him with it. Ash gasped when his other hand ran up her hip and over her belly.

  “Get your damn hands off me,” she shouted. “What’s your problem?”

  “I’m searching you.”

  Ash was going to protest and decided not to. She had to admit it looked suspicious. Found in a part of the house that was out of bounds, she might have been trying to steal the family silver. Letting him check her pockets wouldn’t kill her just embarrass her. But when his hand slipped to her breast and squeezed, Ash brought her knee up hard between his legs and managed not to drop the tray. Wow!

  Ilya bent double, gasping.

  “That’s not appropriate,” she said. “Would you like a canapé?” Ash offered him the tray.

  His glare could have frozen water.

  “No? Okay.” She turned and walked off.

  “Other bloody way,” he grunted.

  Ash turned around and ignored him as she passed.

  She finally stepped into the bustling kitchen to find the waiting staff lining up to collect the starters. Kay beckoned her. Ash pointed at the tray and went to tip the food in the trash. She saved a honey-roasted sausage from sliding in with the rest and as she popped it in her mouth she spotted Christine Wood glaring at her. Bugger.

  “What did I say about eating the food?” her temporary boss snapped.

  Ash chewed and swallowed. “It was only going in the—”

  “I said don’t.”

  Ash slunk over to Kay and rolled her eyes.

  “She’s stressed,” Kay said. “Hey, have you seen the gorgeous photographer?”

  “He’s the reason the canapés went in the bin. I walked into him and the tray tipped up. Christine’s not impressed. I’ve already broken three champagne flutes.”

  Kay winced. Ash was clumsy, no point denying it. She would have liked to run with Mike’s explanation and blame the supernatural, but there were no such things as witches and evil fairy godmothers, only a cack-handed twenty-seven-year-old who’d never shake off her past no matter how hard she tried. It sat on her shoulder like an evil monkey, ready to remind her of what she came from, how useless she was, how clumsy, how naughty, not a good girl at all.

  “Dazzled by his good looks?” Kay asked.

  “No, his lovely butt,” Ash said, and laughed.

  “His name’s Noah Golitsin,” said a dreamy voice behind them.

  “He’s not married,” said someone else. “I asked him.”

  A collective sigh rose above the clattering of the chefs plating up the food.

  “He lives in Chelsea,” said the girl in front of Ash.

  The girl behind huffed. “He told me Knightsbridge.”

  “He said Islington,” wailed someone else.

  Ash sniggered.

  “I’m thinking of asking him to do some new shots of me for my portfolio,” Kay said, and then lowered her voice, “plus a few personal ones.”

  Ash knew what that meant. “I thought you didn’t want to compromise your artistic integrity?”

  Kay rolled her eyes. “Only so he can see me naked and I can persuade him to get naked. God, I really fancy him. We’ve voted him the best-looking guy here. Messy, black hair, the hint of stubble on his cheeks and dark eyes that look like pools of ink—what’s not to love?”

  A pang of jealousy pierced Ash’s heart. She wished it were just her w
ho thought he was good-looking. Though to be fair, she hadn’t noticed him until she’d walked into his back. She’d been thinking of what happened earlier that day, how she’d had to tell Kay and Mike that James hadn’t wanted to ask her out after all, how she’d brushed off their sympathy because she knew it would make her cry, and instead she’d made a joke of it all. Then the photographer had banged into her. Ash’s mind had gone blank, her breath had caught in her throat and the contents of the tray had slid south.

  “He even makes a crumpled linen suit look sexy,” Kay said. “I wonder if he has considered standing in front of the camera instead of behind it.”

  “He should,” said someone.

  “I’d pay to see him naked,” said someone else.

  Kay smiled. “No need to pay if you can entice him out of his pants. Shouldn’t be too hard.”

  “Thought you wanted it hard,” quipped the girl next to her.

  They all laughed. Kay’s confidence knocked out Ash’s in the first round. No point in trying to compete with Miss Beautiful.

  “Maybe I should give his name to my agency.” Kay smirked. “There’s a finder’s fee if they end up signing a suggestion.”

  Ash knew Kay wouldn’t have thought of doing that if Noah had been a beautiful woman. He might be handsome, but hadn’t Kay noticed the man’s unhappiness—the shadows under his eyes and the scowl on his face? He looked as though he’d rather be anywhere in the world but here. He was angry about something. More than angry. Furious.

  Don’t interfere, Ash told herself. Her life was already full of wounded souls, herself included. Kay, who called herself a model and actress but rarely got work that involved modeling something she liked, and had never acted in anything so far as Ash knew, constantly needed reassurance that her beauty remained intact, that the spot on her chin wasn’t visible and that her big break lurked around the corner. Kay’s mantra was that she just needed a bit of luck to come her way, preferably in the form of a besotted movie director.