Keeping Secrets Crane Read online

  Frankie’s heart lurched so hard she felt her ribcage move. Her stomach churned in a swirling mass of hot liquid, squeezing that last greasy samosa, now floating dangerously on its sea of cheap wine, up into her throat. She swallowed it back down, forcing it back past her pounding heart as an extra pulse found its way into her skull. It throbbed so hard, it threatened to explode its way out through her ears.

  My God , if ever she needed another drink, she needed one now.

  “But Jake never came to our school,” she said, incredibly calmly—and so casually, even she was impressed. She wasn’t about to spoil the cool picture she was creating by dissolving into the gibbering wreck suddenly causing havoc to her insides.

  “Oh, I know,” Carly replied with an off-hand wave of her hand. “But I have seen him from time to time to say the occasional hello. And, when I saw him a couple of weeks ago, I just got so excited about all this my tongue just ran away with me. You know how I am.”

  Frankie did.

  Verbal diarrhoea , Jake used to call it.

  “And he did hang around with us for a while—well, you really—all dark-eyed and oozing sex appeal.” She was really giving it the full, dramatic works, her whole body squirming suggestively at the memory, her lustful eyes and pouting lips adding the final touch.

  But it must have been the wine talking. As Frankie recalled, Carly hadn’t been averse to calling him a lot of names back then, none very complimentary. She’d always been jealous that the hunkiest guy in town had made a beeline for Frankie and not herself.

  Chapter 3

  Jake was glad of the darkness. His fingers drummed the steering wheel, the hypnotic rhythm steadying his frazzled nerves

  He still didn’t know why he’d come.

  He’d made a promise that he’d never contact her again.

  And he’d stuck to it, although barely a day went by that he didn’t think about her. His heart dead, as though clawed out of his body twelve years ago, shredded into tiny pieces and tossed into the trash can.

  The memory cut to the quick. Everything he’d told her resurfaced from the pit into which he’d buried his lies and treachery, where it had thankfully started to fade. Until two weeks ago, when he’d seen Carly.

  He wished she’d not stopped to talk. A cursory nod or hello was all that had passed between them in twelve years. But she had. And now his whole life had come crashing down around him again. He’d never found passion with another as he had with that sixteen-year-old girl who’d driven him insane with lust and desire that hot, sticky summer. She’d sent him wild with her pheromones, captivating him and chaining him to her; condemning him to a life-sentence he’d have been more than willing to serve, if only it had been with her.

  For twelve years he’d been telling himself it was first love, and that he’d get over it. But she’d been perfect—his soul mate. And she had been so pure, a virgin; he’d given her her first taste of sexual pleasure. Not that he’d been so experienced himself. Until Frankie, it had just been a few quick fumbles in the dark, a few quick shags up against walls.

  But Frankie was different. They’d lain naked together, exploring each other’s bodies and learning how to please each other. They’d whispered undying love for each other and planned their futures together—until...

  Jake hadn’t had a cigarette in nearly six years, or a drink in longer. But at this moment in time, he could murder both.

  He shouldn’t have come. There was no guarantee she’d be here anyway. But he needed to put his tormented mind at rest, to know she’d moved on with her life. At least knowing that would give him some comfort. God knows there’d been little of it over the years. And if she’d moved on, maybe she’d forgiven him too.

  Flaring his nostrils, he inhaled deeply, puffed out his cheeks, and blew out the breath slowly and noisily before opening the car door. His confidence was undergoing a wild battering, his whole body ravaged by the raging storm inside. His heart was still racing as he entered the room, his eyes searching for a glimpse amongst the bodies gyrating in the dancing lights.

  The disco was well under way.

  Carly was like a praying mantis, pouncing as soon as he stepped inside.

  “Jake,” she squealed in delight. “You made it.”

  She squeezed her short, plump body against his hard, lean one as she took his hand. With his strong shoulders and arms, narrow hips and flat stomach, toned by hard graft and heavy manual work, he was in the best shape of his life; and Carly wasn’t backwards at coming forwards in recognising it. He always was bloody fit. She’d have killed back then to have gotten into his pants, but he’d never even given her the time of day. He’d only ever had eyes for Frankie. Maybe that’s why her behaviour had become so outrageous—in a failed attempt to get him to notice her. But even after Frankie left, he made it clear he wasn’t interested.

  Bastard.

  Not that she was bothered now. She’d got her Louey. But it didn’t hurt to sample the menu. And his menu was still worth sampling as she enjoyed the intimacy of rubbing her body against his.

  “You’ll be amazed who’s here,” she purred.

  Jake couldn’t give a toss. There was only one person he’d come to see. And he was only putting up with Carly’s fawning until he spotted her.

  Carly had irritated him big time twelve years ago. And she was doing a good job of it now, taking advantage of his arrival to press her body against his. He hadn’t fancied her then, and he certainly didn’t now. Though in fairness, he had to acknowledge she had turned her life around. Nevertheless, he wasn’t in a forgiving mood. After all, it was her drug problem that had gotten them all into trouble with the police in the first place.

  His brain shut out her annoying prattle, just as it had many times before.

  Then he spotted her by the bar. She was laughing. Her mouth curled into a perfect arc, revealing her lovely white teeth. Her cheeks were like two perfect rosy apples beneath eyes that twinkled with open pleasure as she tilted her head in such a familiar way, enjoying the conversation with those around her.

  She was as lovely as ever.

  His heart leapt and his pulse quickened afresh as he excused himself, pushing through the bodies until he was standing by her. Her clean scent invaded his senses—fresh shampoo and musky body lotion, tickling his nose and throat. It sent shivers of excitement down his spine and up into his scalp until even the hairs on his head prickled with outrageous delight.

  “I’ll get that,” he said huskily, the words whispering softly across her cheek and ear.

  Frankie froze as she felt his breath drift gently across her skin, caressing every cell, stimulating every nerve ending. The hairs at the base of her skull stood to attention, sending a wave of anticipation throughout her entire body. Even her toes tingled.

  She swallowed hard, the words sticking in her throat, her vocal chords paralysed. She just raised her lovely eyes to look at him, her companion at the bar immediately forgotten. Jake smiled down at her, and she caught her bottom lip with her teeth. Twelve years, and the feeling, flooding her senses, was so familiar it might have been only yesterday.

  Squelchy liquid turned her stomach to mush and trickled into her legs, making her grab the edge of the bar. She steadied herself as he ordered himself an orange juice and grasped the two glasses in hands that looked just too deliciously familiar: long, straight fingers with tips so sensual they used to drive her into frenzied need with every stroke as they travelled round her body. She could barely breathe. After every vow she’d ever made, her body was betraying her big time, dragging every basic, lustful need from the depths of their prison.

  Thank goodness there was a free table with a couple of chairs. She wasn’t sure she was steady enough on her feet to have a civil conversation.

  In fact, she wasn’t sure she was ready for any conversation.

  He had no right to look the way he did after all this time.

  He was way too sexy for his own good.

  He’d filled out well.
He’d matured; his shoulders broader, his chest wider. But the sooty lashes framing his dark brown eyes were just as she remembered. Gorgeous, sexy, come-to-bed eyes that had scoured her body, burned into her soul, thrilled her with their passion, their desire, until she’d been barely able to breathe.

  Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!

  Tendrils of heat were snaking around her insides, spreading outwards, her skin flushing. The tips of her breasts tingled with expectation and lust. Twelve years and he still did it for her.

  “You look good, he complimented. His smile was a half-smile, tentative, trying to control the uneven thud of his heartbeat with a display of confidence that almost didn’t work. He knew she hated him, had told him so in the last letter he opened. He still had it, had them all but for the final three he returned unopened. He’d never found the courage to throw then away.

  But she still wasn’t talking. She was still probably deciding when to slap his face, call him unforgivable names and to humiliate him in front of everyone here. And she’d deserve every bit of revenge she could muster.

  But she didn’t. She removed her jacket instead.

  His heart fluttered in expectation.

  At least she was intending to stay awhile.

  “Thanks, so do you.” Relieved her voice had finally found its way back. She spoke calmly, more calmly than she felt. Her skin was on fire and she needed to cool off.

  Slipping her jacket onto the chair back, she twisted her body round, her silky chemise clinging like a second skin. It moulded to her rounded breasts, revealing the delicate white lace of her bra, clearly visible through the fabric. It left little to the imagination, as the prickling quiver of desire squeezed their tips into tight little buds.

  Jake caught his breath. She was gorgeous then. And she was gorgeous now; her figure matured into full womanhood, making her more desirable than ever. His eyes were drawn to the dark cleft between her breasts where he used to run his fingers before trailing them down the hollow and underneath their fullness, so that his hands could cup and stroke them.

  A familiar tightening squeezed at his groin. He took a deep breath to control his growing desire at just seeing her here.

  “And how’s life been treating you?” he asked as steadily as his pounding heart would allow.

  “Very well, actually,” she replied brightly—too brightly, considering how he’d treated her. Her mind was all over the place and she took another gulp from the wine glass, glad of the numbing effect it was having. With the storm of conflicting emotions raging inside, she was in serious danger of either exploding in anger and recrimination or dissolving into a gibbering wreck.

  Damn Carly for inviting him.

  “Carly told me you have your own business.”

  Frankie nodded, taking another swig from her glass.

  “Dress shop. I design a lot of what I sell too.”

  He gave a nod of acknowledgement, impressed by her success.

  “And have you designed what you’re wearing?” His question sounded trite, forced, his calm slowly disintegrating.

  “Just the jacket and skirt.”

  “They look good—especially on you.” That was better—more relaxed, paying her a compliment.

  But if he thought he could charm his way back into her good books, he had another think coming. Frankie had had twelve years to decide what a rat he was. But as she swallowed another mouthful of wine, any resemblance he might have borne to that squeaky creature with its pointy nose and even pointier teeth were as far removed from her mind as they could be, because Jake’s nose was just the right shape—strong and straight, except for that cute little twist at its tip.

  Frankie dreamily remembered the hours she’d spent kissing it before moving on to those lips that still looked as luscious as ever. They were smiling at her now, stretching across those lovely teeth that had nibbled their way around her body, exploring every patch of skin and teasing every erogenous zone she possessed.

  God, her body had been full of them. And the tingling got tinglier as Frankie felt her breasts swelling, her nipples tightening further, drawing his eyes unashamedly towards them again. She wished she’d not taken off her jacket.

  “Can I get you another?”

  “What?”

  “Drink.” He indicated her glass.

  She looked down.

  Jesus . It was empty already. At this rate she’d be legless. Good job she’d left the car at the hotel after all.

  But one more wouldn’t hurt. At least it might help get her through this—blur her vision a little while she was trying to forget how she also used to kiss and stroke that cute little dimple playing at the corner of his mouth every time he smiled. Or the way she used to curl her fingers into that thick mop of dark brown hair.

  “I’ll get these,” she said, searching for her purse, still afraid to meet his gaze full on in case he saw the panic, or the lust, hidden in her own.

  But he was already up and gone before she had time to protest. So she tried relaxing back in the chair instead, crossing her legs and trying to still the manic swinging of her foot.

  Shit . She was so bloody twitchy.

  She uncrossed her legs and crossed them the other way. Her other foot started dancing about.

  Damn. He was making her so bloody twitchy.

  How could he still look so blasted dishy after all this time? Why couldn’t he have developed a beer gut? Overdosed on take-aways or something?

  Anything but look so damned sexy.

  The only thing that had kept her going, after finally accepting that he’d abandoned her, was thinking he’d probably gotten himself shacked up with some druggie of a tart with a good dose of clap. That he’d produced a brood of kids that made his life a total misery while watching TV at the end of the day, shrouded in a haze of cigarette smoke.

  And speaking of haze, Frankie was suddenly aware of a very big haze crowding in on her. The room seemed to be shimmering a little more than it had been. And she suspected there was more to it than just the pulsating disco. Maybe it was the way her eyeballs were suddenly trying to plait themselves.

  Well, one good thing about that, she thought illogically: at least she wasn’t going to have to worry about meeting his eyes anymore. Hers were too busy rolling round her eye sockets.

  Jake plonked the glass in front of her, making her jump. Her nerves were in full twitch again. This was definitely going to be her last drink of the night. She’d had the odd binge now and again, but right now she needed to keep a reasonably clear head, especially as Jake was drawing his chair closer to hers. The volume of music seemed to have gone up another twenty decibels, and they were going to struggle to hear each other without either shouting or leaning just a little too intimately into each other. And she didn’t need to lean in to feel the heat emanating from him—too close, and she might just burn him with hers.

  “Aren’t you having a proper drink?” she shouted over the noise as he picked up his orange juice. Or whatever it was he’d bought when he first arrived.

  “I don’t drink,” he explained. “At least, very rarely.”

  “You don’t!” In her newly developed state of tipsiness, she couldn’t believe anyone could abstain from alcohol.

  “No.” He shook his head. “I saw firsthand what alcohol did to my father.”

  Ah, yes . She’d forgotten about his father—never without a bottle of something in his hand.

  “Mmm!” She nodded knowingly. “How is he?”

  Not that she really cared. He used to scare her to death with his boozy breath and unkempt appearance. Jake had tried his best to keep him clean, but he was always onto a losing battle. Grey bristles had covered the chin of his thin, wasted face and an unclean aroma was always rising from his creased, dirty clothes.

  She’d only ever been back to their flat once while he was there, and that had been enough. Along with everything else she remembered about him, he’d tried touching her up while she’d been washing some pots in the sink. The
thought of the drunk’s hand sliding up her skirt still made her feel sick. What a disgusting man.

  “He died five years ago.”

  Frankie felt sick again, this time for thinking such mean thoughts. Frankie remembered Jake dealing with the whole incident brilliantly. He was firm but calm and his father couldn’t remember much of it anyway. But he never tried it on again—though she made certain he never got the chance.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured, almost guiltily.

  “Don’t be.” Jake shrugged indifferently, taking another sip of his orange juice. “Kindest thing that happened, really. He did it to himself.”

  Nevertheless, Frankie felt an onrush of emotion and had to fight the urge to lay a comforting hand over his. He might be acting hard, but he forgot she knew him—knew the real Jake. And the man had been his father.

  And having fought the urge successfully, she took comfort from her glass of wine instead—again.

  “So how about you, then? Not married?” That was the first thing he’d spotted. No wedding ring.

  She shook her head. “Never found the need.” Especially as the only man she’d ever wanted was sitting in front of her. ‘You?’

  Keep it polite. Cool. Don’t let him see what a state you’re in.

  “Not anymore.”

  Anymore —had she heard right?

  Frankie’s heart squeezed painfully.

  Dumped her and then found somebody else.

  God , how that hurt; she’d cried buckets, and the bastard hadn’t had any qualms about replacing her. How could he? After all he’d promised.

  “It lasted a couple of years,” he explained—needed to explain. “She went off with her boss. They’d been screwing around for months. I don’t know how I never noticed.” Probably because he’d still been too busy trying to forget Frankie—even after all that time. But now wasn’t the time to tell her.

  Good . Frankie didn’t feel a smidgeon of pity. She hoped it was horrible, painful, making him realise what it was like to have his heart broken.

  “Any kids?” she asked civilly, trying hard not to slur her words. This was definitely her last glass. In fact, she oughtn’t to be drinking this one, but she was past taking responsibility now—especially with that little revelation.