Guilty Hearts Read online

  Rachel had been taken in by the husband’s desperate plea. He just wanted to know where he stood in the grand scheme of things and she didn’t blame him — who would want to be married to someone who wasn’t a hundred per cent into them? Just thinking of marriage gave her the shivers. She was far from the stage where she wanted to settle down. The mere thought of putting all of her eggs in one basket, with one person, filled her with dread. She had seen too many relationships fall to the way side — especially her parents’.

  “You just don’t get it, do you?” Zoe asked as she moved forward to the edge of her seat, her expression heated. “It would be different if she contacted you, but she didn’t. It’s like she doesn’t have any say in the whole thing.”

  Rachel eased herself off the sofa and slid her arms into her jacket. “I’m not going to force her to do anything, Zoe.”

  “Well ... don’t come running to me when it all goes tits up,” Zoe said as she replaced the rim of her glasses on the ridge of her nose and took another gulp of beer.

  “Don’t worry Dr Clemens, I won’t have to, because nothing’s going to go wrong.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Despite being midweek, The Grove bar was busy, with many customers lining the pavement in front of the building, dragging on their cigarettes as if their lives depended on it. Kathryn passed them and stood on the fringe of the crowd at the open doorway. She caught sight of her friend Jo at a square wooden table in a crowded corner and eased her way through the throng, apologising each time she bumped into someone.

  “Hey, good to see you, babe,” Jo shouted above the commotion of voices. She stood up, opening her arms and pulling Kathryn into a tight embrace. Drawing back, she held her at arm’s length. “You’re looking good, girl.” Jo’s shoulder-length black hair hung on either side of her oval face, twisted into fat corkscrew curls.

  “Thanks, you too.”

  “I’ve got the drinks in,” Jo said, laughing as she nodded to the bottle of wine on the table.

  “Great,” Kathryn replied, taking off her jacket and placing it over the back of a chair. “I need to use the ladies first, I’ll be right back.”

  Having fought her way to the toilet, she pushed open the door to the raucous laughter of two women reapplying their make-up in the mirror. As she looked around, she was relieved to see an empty cubicle. Closing the door behind her, she heard boisterous voices reverberating through the air, then diminishing to barely audible as the women left the room.

  Moments later, upon opening the cubicle door, Kathryn was startled at the unexpected sight of a dark-haired woman crouched on the floor near the sink. Kathryn watched her for a few seconds before asking tentatively, “Are you okay?”

  The woman turned, then rose to her full height at the sound of her voice. “I’m looking for my earring. Well, trying to. I haven’t got my contacts in,” she explained, flashing her a grin that could melt ice.

  “Would you like me to a have look?” Kathryn asked, having some difficulty averting her gaze from the woman’s sensual mouth.

  “If you wouldn’t mind, that would be great,” the woman said as she moved aside so Kathryn could bend down to take her position. ‘‘It just has great sentimental value; it belonged to my mother,” she continued, seemingly oblivious to the effect she was having on Kathryn.

  Kathryn began scanning the floor for the elusive earring, her fingers skating over the tiles. “No luck, I’m afraid.”

  “Oh well, not to worry. Thanks for looking,” she said gratefully, helping Kathryn to her feet and holding onto her hands for longer than was necessary.

  “No problem,” Kathryn replied. Disturbed by the woman’s touch and close proximity, she turned to the sink and ran the tap. Pretending to focus on washing her hands, she discreetly sneaked an admiring look at the woman’s profile through the mirror’s reflection. Loose strands of hair fell delicately over her shoulders, with the remainder upswept into a cream-embellished rose comb clip. To her surprise, the woman caught her gaze and their eyes connected for a brief moment. Kathryn’s cheeks suffused with colour as she quickly turned to the automatic dryer and stuck her hands underneath, praying that the woman hadn’t seen her blushing.

  Kathryn could sense the woman still standing behind her, but couldn’t bring herself to turn around. She didn’t trust herself to look into those eyes again — scared what her own eyes would reveal.

  The door flung open and a plump, platinum blonde woman staggered in. Her breasts jutted from her ill-fitting, pink Lycra dress and her high-heeled, diamante-encrusted shoes scraped the tiled floor as she stumbled into a cubicle.

  Saved by the bell.

  Thankful for the much needed distraction, Kathryn swung around with the intention of making a speedy exit. Quickly clearing her throat, she said, “Sorry, I couldn’t be of more help.” But as she moved to pass her, she noticed something glistening in a loose strand of the woman’s hair. She reached out to her. “There it is,” she said, retrieving the entangled earring and dropping it into her open hand.

  “Oh my God,” the woman squealed. “Thank you so much. I’m so dopey sometimes. I didn’t even think of looking in my hair.”

  “It’s easily done,” Kathryn said, pleased that the woman had her heirloom, but still feeling anxious to escape the small confines of the bathroom.

  “Would you mind putting it in for me? The clasp is always slipping out of my hand,” the woman said, handing over both the earring and clasp and turning to her side.

  “Not at all.”

  As Kathryn moved closer, she tried to ignore the subtle scent of roses and jasmine emanating from the woman. She fought the sudden urge to trace the outline of her long and graceful neck, as she tried to concentrate on the job at hand. She hoped the woman hadn’t noticed the slight tremble of her hands as she inserted the earring and took a step back away from her.

  “I’m Rachel, by the way,” the woman said. Casually, Rachel turned to face her, looking at Kathryn from under thick black eyelashes, her hazel eyes beckoning.

  Impulsively Kathryn reached out her hand. “I’m Kathryn,” she said with a calm smile that belied the eruption going on inside her.

  “Nice to meet you,” she paused for a second, “Kathryn.” She took Kathryn’s hand and shook it gently. Releasing it slowly, she continued, “Busy in here tonight, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” Kathryn said, tucking her hair behind her ear and glancing towards the door.

  “Well, I s’pose I’d better go and see if my date has turned up yet,” Rachel said, touching her ear. “And thanks again.”

  Kathryn smiled and waited until she was alone. Resting against the basin, her eyes traced up to the ceiling as she waited for her heartbeat to resume to its natural rhythm. What the hell just happened there? I’m a married woman, not a hormonal teenager. She had felt attracted to women before but nothing like she had just experienced with ... Rachel. She shook her head slightly, unable to stop the small smile that played on her lips.

  It was times like this when she felt so unsure about herself that she regretted getting married before she had taken the time to explore her sexuality. Instead of waiting, she had run straight into the open arms of the first person she thought would provide her with the security and love she so desperately needed. That person just happened to be Gareth.

  She had tried her best to be a good wife over the years but just couldn’t help but feel that something was missing — that little thing that stops you from giving yourself wholeheartedly to someone, no matter how hard you tried.

  She turned to look at her reflection in the mirror — the eyes that looked back at her did not resemble those of a content woman. They were empty and devoid of the sparkle she had seen in so many people’s eyes when they were in love.

  Letting out a sigh, she straightened her top and forced a smile on her face. I’ve come out to enjoy myself tonight. There’s no point mourning over something I can never have. Despite their less than perfect relationship, she couldn’t e
nvisage a time when she would leave Gareth — she had said her marriage vows and had meant them at the time. This was the life she had chosen, for better or worse, and she was just going to have to get on with it, a tiny voice in her head reminded her.

  Minutes later, Kathryn exited the toilets and made her way back to the table to find Jo frantically shrugging her arms into her jacket.

  “What’s wrong?” Kathryn asked, concerned.

  “I’m so sorry to do this to you, Kath, but the babysitter’s just phoned. She can’t get Marlon to settle, she thinks he’s got a temperature — she’s freaking out; I’m gonna have to go home.”

  “Oh no, I’ll come with you.”

  “No, don’t worry, you stay and have a drink. Ben will be home in an hour ... are you going to be okay?”

  “Yes, of course, go and be with your son.”

  “I’ll make it up to you — I promise.” Jo kissed her cheek and jostled her way to the door.

  Kathryn watched the retreating back of her friend. Looking down at the table, she sighed. No point wasting a good bottle of wine. She lowered herself into the chair and filled her glass halfway. On the periphery of her vision she saw a woman, clad from head to toe in tight black clothing, laughing whole heartedly at something the ruddy-faced man beside her had said. With great effort she attempted to tune out their loud conversation and laughter, instead focusing on the soft melody that drifted through the air. Isn’t this just great? The first night out in ages and I end up spending it by myself.

  “Are you alone as well?” A honeyed voice sounded above the din of the bar.

  Kathryn felt a catch in her throat and her skin prickling as she turned slowly towards the voice, “Rachel?”

  “I saw your friend leave ten minutes ago. I thought she’d gone out for a cigarette,” she said, jerking her head towards the door. “I take it she’s not coming back.”

  Kathryn looked up at her. “No, she had a family emergency.”

  “Looks like we’re both on our lonesome then. My date failed to materialise,” Rachel said nonchalantly. “Do you mind if I join you?”

  “Erm, of course not,” Kathryn said with a hint of apprehension. It was one thing to have a fleeting attraction to someone you thought you were never going to see again but this was more than she could bear. Despite her misgivings, she motioned towards the empty seat, desperately trying to keep her features neutral. Discreetly, she inhaled deeply, thinking she would treat this moment as if she was having an innocent drink with a new client or at the very least she would try to. “Drink?” she invited, picking up the bottle and holding it in mid-air.

  “Sure.”

  Kathryn gave a tense smile as she passed her a glass. So far so good. She watched as Rachel sat down, her stomach tightening as Rachel locked eyes with her. The woman had a powerful aura that was hard to resist. By the way she carried herself, she knew it.

  “Cheers,” Rachel said, eyeing her over the rim of her glass. “So do you come here often, Kathryn?” she asked, lightly setting her glass down on the table.

  Kathryn paused to take a sip of her wine, savouring the way Rachel had said her name as well as the fruity taste of the alcohol. “Not as much as I used to”

  Rachel tilted her head to the side and looked at her enquiringly. “Oh, and why’s that?”

  “Work commitments.”

  “Sounds like your work commitments don’t leave much time for play.” A friendly smile played on her lips.

  “Well, that’s what I get for running my own business,” Kathryn replied smoothly, her face expressionless. Work wasn’t the only reason — Gareth was not the playful type; he preferred the more serious things in life. The thought of him sitting in a bar, just having a beer and a chat with friends was unthinkable.

  “Oh, what line of business are you in?”

  “Interior design.”

  “Sounds like my idea of heaven — spending other people’s money for a living.”

  “It is.” Kathryn let out a half laugh as she took another sip of her wine. She was beginning to feel more relaxed as the effects of the alcohol chipped away at her inhibitions. The nervousness she had felt abated, replaced with a feeling of invigoration — Rachel radiated a warmth that Kathryn couldn’t help but bask in.

  “What about you? What do you do?”

  “I’m a journalist,” Rachel replied, toying with her wine glass.

  “Really! What type of journalism?”

  “Lifestyle, most of the time.”

  Kathryn was pleasantly surprised. Rachel looked like a model — with her lithe figure and striking facial bone structure she wouldn’t have looked out of place on the cover of Vogue. “Wow, that must be interesting.”

  “I’ve recently started working at a new magazine. You may have heard of it: Women’s lifestyle — ‘don’t just experience a woman’s lifestyle, become a part of it,’” she said, mimicking its voice-over ad.

  Kathryn shook her head and grinned. “It sounds as if its target audience are transvestites.”

  Rachel gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. “Yes it does, doesn’t it!” She burst out laughing. “I’d never thought of it like that! It’s a great magazine though. It’s got a lot of potential. It’s really trying to show women that their lives don’t just have to be about having babies and getting married.”

  Rachel went on to explain her boss’s dream for the magazine, finally saying, “Trying to find people to contribute and advertise is turning out to be a lot harder than my boss could have imagined. Because it’s new, people are reluctant and would rather go with the large, well-established magazines.”

  Kathryn listened and nodded at the appropriate intervals, only speaking when Rachel had finished. “That’s a shame, but I’m sure things will pick up. It’s always difficult in the beginning. So what are you writing now?”

  “A piece on successful business women, but it’s turning out to be a bit of a nightmare as most of the willing participants bore the pants off me; there’s no fire in their belly anymore. They seem to have made it to the top and have lost the will to carry on.” Rachel rolled her eyes.

  “What exactly are you looking for?”

  Rachel barely took a breath. “Someone with passion for what they do, someone inspirational.”

  “Like someone’s whose dream came alive through wanting and believing rather than because of circumstances?” Kathryn’s mouth curved into an unconscious smile as she thought about her own dreams of becoming an interior designer.

  “Yes, exactly. The norm is: ‘I started this business because I was a stay at home mum and needed work to fit in with my timetable’, or ‘my husband left and I needed the money’. I don’t mean any disrespect to those women but it’s rare to speak to somebody who hasn’t had external circumstances push them in a certain direction.”

  “Well, I knew I wanted to be an interior designer since I was about four years old. My mum always told the story of when I was barely knee high and re-arranging the furniture at home.”

  “Cute image.”

  “Well, it wasn’t cute when I started doing it when we visited her friends’ homes.”

  “That would be a great starting point for my article,” Rachel said, her voice full of excitement as if she sensed an opportunity.

  “I don’t know if you’d call my story inspirational.”

  “I think it is. Too many people lose sight of what they always dreamt of when they get pushed into the real world. We are told to put a hold on our dreams and start slaving away at some soul-destroying nine-to-five. The fact that you achieved your dream and you’re still passionate about it sounds very inspirational to me.”

  “Well, thank you.”

  Rachel’s head tilted slightly as she looked at Kathryn with a confused expression on her face. “Hold on a second ... You’re not the Kathryn Kassel, who designs for the rich and famous?”

  Kathryn felt heat rise to her cheeks. “Guilty as charged.” She would never get used to people’s reacti
ons to her when they found out who she was. They seemed to think that she had the Midas touch — that putting a room together was a piece of cake. The reality was she had to work long and hard hours for every design she came up with.

  Rachel’s mouth dropped open and she gasped. “Oh my God, I can’t believe this. I thought you looked familiar but I just couldn’t place you. I’ve seen your designs in magazines and I must say they are truly amazing.”

  “Thank you,” Kathryn said, as a part of her couldn’t help but revel in Rachel’s open admiration of her. She drained the last of her wine and refreshed both their glasses.

  “Before I realised who you were, I was going to ask if you would let me interview you for my article so you’d gain a bit of publicity — as if you need publicity! I heard you never give interviews. Why is that, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “I like my privacy too much.” Rachel had been right — she hadn’t given an interview in eight years, due to the excessive intrusion into her private life working with famous people had brought.

  Though Kathryn loved every aspect of her work — from the demanding clients to the challenge of finding a different design for individual tastes — she had stopped taking interviews when she realised she was spending more time responding to questions about her famous clients than her actual work. For some reason though, the woman in front of her seemed different — so much so, she was willing to take a chance with her.

  “You can still ask me.”

  Looking puzzled, Rachel prompted her, “Ask you ...?”

  “If I want to be interviewed for your magazine.”

  “I wouldn’t embarrass myself.”

  “Ask!” Kathryn encouraged her.

  “Okay, would you be interested in letting me interview you for Women’s Lifestyle Magazine?”

  “Yes, I would very much,” Kathryn said, laughing at the look of disbelief on Rachel’s face.

  “I can’t believe it!” Rachel said ecstatically, as she jumped up from her chair, skirted around the table and grabbed her in a hug that nearly squeezed the breath out of her lungs. “Thank you so much!”