Classic Bestsellers from Josephine Cox: Bumper Collection

Her remark brought a smile to his face. ‘I’d chase you at the drop of a hat.’ Looking at her now, he thought he’d gladly jump in the River Ribble for just one kiss.

‘Besides, I only live five minutes away.’

‘Are you ashamed of me?’ he asked.

Amy was taken aback. ‘No. What made you say that?’

‘Because this is the first time a girl hasn’t let me take her right to the front door, so there has to be a reason. Either you’re ashamed of me … or you still don’t trust me. Which is it?’

Amy laughed. ‘I’ve no reason to be ashamed of you,’ she answered.

‘Ah! So that means you still don’t trust me.’

‘It might,’ she admitted. ‘Oh, look, it’s just that, for now, it might be better if you didn’t know where I lived, that’s all.’

‘What? So I’ll not be able to come knocking and worrying you to go out with me?’

She laughed again. ‘Something like that.’

‘What if I followed you?’

‘You won’t.’ She had learned enough about him to know he wouldn’t stoop to such a thing.

‘No, you’re right. I wouldn’t do that. If you don’t want me to know where you live, that’s an end to it.’ Placing his hands on her shoulders, he asked hopefully, ‘You will see me again, though, won’t you?’

‘Yes, I’d like that.’

‘All right … when?’

She gazed up at him, her heart beating fast as their eyes met. He had such sincerity, she thought. ‘I’m not surprised you made it to foreman,’ she remarked. ‘I’m sure with your dogged attitude it won’t be long before you make manager.’

‘Next year,’ he remarked casually, ‘I intend making manager next year.’

‘Oh? So you’ve set yourself a target, have you?’ Amy was impressed.

‘Aye,’ he declared confidently. ‘And one day I’ll have my own factory, you see if I don’t!’

‘I expect you will,’ she said mischievously. ‘Happen you’ll have more than one – happen you’ll have them across the length and breadth of Lancashire.’

Throwing back his head he laughed out loud, a deep, musical laugh that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. ‘One thing at a time, if you please,’ he said. ‘Let’s not run before we can walk.’

They set off walking again, but slower this time, with Jack persisting, ‘You didn’t say when we could meet again?’

‘Next Saturday?’ she suggested. ‘Unless you’re busy doing something else?’

Again, he drew her to a halt. ‘If I was – though it happens I’m not – I’d cancel whatever it was,’ he promised. ‘To tell you the truth, Amy, I don’t think I can wait a whole week before I see you again.’

‘Well, you’ll have to,’ she replied firmly. ‘Saturday is the best time for me, so it’s that or nothing.’

‘Then it’ll have to be Saturday,’ he conceded. ‘And will you change your mind about letting me walk you home?’

She smiled. ‘One thing at a time,’ she mimicked, wagging a finger. ‘Let’s not run before we can walk.’

His face wreathed in a gentle smile, he nodded. ‘You’ve got me there,’ he acknowledged.

‘Good night then, Jack.’

‘Good night, Amy.’

As Amy turned away he laid his hands on her shoulders and tenderly swung her round. He didn’t say anything and neither did she, but she knew he wanted to kiss her, and she wanted the same.

When he bent his head towards her, for a brief moment she remembered the man who had kissed her and betrayed her, and she wanted to turn away, but a deeper instinct kept her there. She raised her lips to his and when the softness of his mouth was pressed against hers, she enjoyed the experience to the full.

When it was over, he dropped his arms to his sides, his voice tender. ‘Good night, Amy.’

Amy nodded, and walked on, her heart beating fifteen to the dozen and her lips tingling from Jack’s kiss. ‘That was nice,’ she murmured. But that’s all it was, she thought. At that vulnerable moment the image of her ex-fiancé had come into her mind. She wasn’t ready for a serious relationship just yet. She quickened her steps.

‘AMY … WAIT!’

Coming to a halt she turned to see Jack running after her. ‘I forgot to ask … where will we meet?’

She’d forgotten as well. ‘I’ll be up Corporation Park … about half-past two,’ she laughed. ‘Oh, and don’t forget to bring a bag o’ bread when you come.’

When he looked at her in disbelief she explained, ‘We often feed the ducks on a Saturday, me and Johnny.’

‘Who’s Johnny?’

‘A fella I know. Good-looking and fun to be with, he is.’

‘And I’ll get to meet him on Saturday, will I?’ The tiniest hint of jealousy showed in his voice.

‘You’ll like him,’ she went on. ‘He’s not the easiest of people to get on with. He’s a bit wary of strangers, y’see? If he likes you, he’ll be your friend for life. But if he doesn’t take to you straight off, he’ll have nothing to do with you at all.’

‘Hmm! He sounds a moody sort of a fella to me.’

Amy left him wondering. ‘See you Saturday,’ she said, and hurried towards home smiling to herself all the way.

She wondered what Jack would think of little Johnny and, more to the point, what Johnny would think of him.

Chapter 9 (#ulink_8133f948-a659-59ef-9408-3dec1628c285)

IT HAD BEEN a hot day and now the night was unbearably humid. Unable to sleep, Luke threw off the bedclothes and for a moment he just lay there, arms above his head, eyes closed, and the tiredness seeping through his every bone.

His mind, though, was alive with all manner of thoughts and emotions: pride in his work and the new contract he had managed to secure in spite of heavy competition; anxiety about Sylvia, who had been increasingly difficult of late. The dark, uncontrollable thoughts came with ferocity, lasted a moment or two and fell away just as quickly.

It pained him to see her suffering like that. He wanted to do more. He wanted her to be the vibrant, shrewd woman she once had been. But that woman was long gone, and he could do nothing to help her. No one could.

As always when he felt tired and lonely, his thoughts shifted to Amy. He recalled her warm, bright smile and those pretty eyes that twinkled even when she wasn’t smiling. In his painting he had caught the very essence of that smile, and more, he had caught her spirit, strong and brave. ‘Amy …’ He relished the sound of her name. ‘If only things had been different … if Sylvia and her lover had made a life together, you and I might have had a chance to get to know each other.’ But things were not ‘different’, and they never could be.