Just for the Rush

A division of HarperCollinsPublishers

www.harpercollins.co.uk

HarperImpulse an imprint of

HarperCollinsPublishers

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2017

Copyright © Jane Lark 2017

Cover images © Shutterstock.com

Cover design by Books Covered 2017

Jane Lark asserts the moral right to

be identified as the author of this work

A catalogue record for this book

is available from the British Library

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International

and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

By payment of the required fees, you have been granted

the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access

and read the text of this e-book on screen.

No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted,

downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or

stored in or introduced into any information storage and

retrieval system, in any form or by any means,

whether electronic or mechanical, now known or

hereinafter invented, without the express

written permission of HarperCollins.

Ebook Edition © February 2017 ISBN: 9780008139872

Version 2017-01-16

Praise for Jane Lark

‘Jane Lark has an incredible talent to draw the reader in from the first page onwards’

Cosmochicklitan Book Reviews

‘Any description that I give you would not only spoil the story but could not give this book a tenth of the justice that it deserves. Wonderful!’

Candy Coated Book Blog

‘This book held me captive after the first 2 pages. If I could crawl inside and live in there with the characters I would’

A Reading Nurse Blogspot

‘The book swings from truly swoon-worthy, tense and heart wrenching, highly erotic and everything else in between’

BestChickLit.com

‘I love Ms. Lark’s style—beautifully descriptive, emotional and can I say, just plain delicious reading? This is the kind of mixer upper I’ve been looking for in romance lately’

Devastating Reads BlogSpot

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Praise for Jane Lark

Author Note

Ivy

Chapter 1

Jack

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 36

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Also by Jane Lark

About the Author

About HarperImpulse

About the Publisher

Author Note

Before you begin reading let me say a quick thank you to Suzanne Clarke my editor who has helped me pin Jack down a little. He is a very challenging man but as always I like to stretch the boundaries of perspectives with my characters and so you are about to go on another Jane Lark journey of emotions. Enjoy!

Ivy

November

‘Are you ready yet?’ Rick called from downstairs.

‘I’m just doing my makeup. I’ll be down in a minute.’

I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror. Into my eyes. Trying to look inside myself. Why did I feel so miserable? It was my birthday. A birthday celebration should penetrate through the darkness and dispel at least some of the shadows.

I lifted the mascara brush and swept it up along my eyelashes.

When I finished with the mascara I put the brush back in the bottle and the bottle in my makeup bag, then took out the mauve lipgloss that matched my hair.

My hand shook as I opened my mouth to apply it.

The wobbliness in my stomach expressed itself with a desire to be sick. I didn’t want to do this. I wasn’t in the mood for a quiet, romantic dinner with Rick. It wasn’t the way I wanted to spend my birthday. I’d rather be in a club with Milly and some of my other girlfriends. I’d rather spend the night sharing large cocktails with a dozen straws, jumping up and down and dancing badly because I could barely stand up.

But Rick would be upset if I told him I didn’t want to spend my birthday with him.

I shoved the lipgloss into my makeup bag, then zipped it up and looked at myself in the mirror. My hands ran over the creases of my black dress, trying to straighten the clinging material. I pulled the hem down to the top of my knees. It would ride up again when I walked. But so what? I’d have my coat on and we’d spend the evening sitting down at a table.

I breathed out, steeling myself for this. It really wasn’t a good thing that I had to force myself into going out with my boyfriend, but I was just down. I’d been down and trapped in this darkness for months, though.

‘Ready.’ As I walked downstairs, he smiled at me in the way that said you look gorgeous.

My lips lifted in a quick, answering smile.

‘You look good,’ were the words he said aloud.

‘Thanks.’

He had his coat on already, a bomber jacket. He was so broad and muscular that the fitted styles rarely fitted him.

‘Hey, cheer up it’s your birthday.’

I looked down so I could slip my feet into my sparkly gold stiletto heels. His hand ran over my hair then settled on my shoulder for a moment.

I glanced up and smiled at him. The thing about Rick was that he was so nice I could never say anything bad to him. I couldn’t tell him no, or shout at him, or argue with him. But inside I was screaming. His kindness was confining. I was trapped. How foolish was that? Other women would think their fairytale had come to life with a guy like Rick. It was selfish and mean to not be happy. I should be happy.

I wasn’t.

I was in a prison with glass walls – and comfy slippers, and soaps to watch on the TV and cardigans to snuggle up in.

‘What is so bad about that’? My mum would say on the rare occasions I dared to complain.

Nothing. Nothing was wrong. So why did it feel like this life was strangling me.

‘Come on, then.’ He held my parka coat up for me to put my arms into the sleeves. He was such a gentleman. Other women would scratch my eyes out to get at Rick if they knew about this offer of a perfect masculine package that I was not appreciating as I should. He picked up the keys, then turned and opened the door.

‘Where are we going?’ Please God tell me we were not walking around to the local Chinese that we went to at least once a month, at least let it be somewhere different.

‘You’ll find out.’

Oh, whoopee! A surprise! How fucking radical! I was such a mean bitch to him at times in my head, even though I would never say the words aloud. He was too nice to be sworn at.

A black cab waited outside our two-storey flat in a terrace in a London suburb.

Rick walked ahead and opened the door of the taxi. ‘Here.’ He held the door as I got in, then sat next to me and pulled the door closed.

Sometimes the glass walls on my prison closed in and became solid.

‘Did they tell you the address I gave when they took the booking?’ he asked the driver.

‘Yep.’

‘Great, thanks.’

I looked out at the houses illuminated by the streetlights. The year was heading towards mid-winter. Christmas. Time was going so fast. I held my clutch bag with both hands because I didn’t feel like holding Rick’s hand. We’d had loads of settling-down conversations this year, and the number of them had been building since September. ‘Do you want kids?’ ‘What would you prefer first, a boy or a girl?’ ‘Where would you get married if you had a choice of anywhere?’ ‘Do you see us always living in London?’

Maybe that was the problem – I didn’t see me and Rick always doing anything. I could never imagine the future. I only thought about now. And since I’d been depressed, I couldn’t even imagine being happy again. So why would I care about five years from now?

Rick had ignored my lack of enthusiasm every time I’d shrugged off his questions, with comments like, ‘I never thought about it.’ I’m not sure if I want kids.’ ‘I’m too young to think about that.’ ‘We’re fine as we are, aren’t we?’ ‘Isn’t living here, okay?’

The cab driver put the left-hand indicator on. There was no street to turn into. ‘Oh.’

‘Yeah,’ Rick answered.

The cab turned into the car park of the boutique hotel that was just up the street from us. The taxi had been a decoy; we could have walked. But at least it was something different. We hadn’t been here before and I’d heard good things about the restaurant.

The cab stopped and Rick got out without paying, so I suppose he’d already covered it.

When we walked up to the door leading to the reception, his arm lifted and hung around my shoulders. My heart thumped. I was so miserable I felt uncomfortable when he touched me. But possibly because I felt guilty about being such a bitch to him in my head.

Sex was the worst. Sex had become endurance, and that was cruel. Because he played rugby, so he had a good body; it shouldn’t be awful to do it with him. But it was.

I kept telling myself it was the depression, and he was really understanding, as ever. He didn’t push me if I said I wasn’t in the mood, and he kept telling me I’d get better. I’d kept telling myself that the depression would go away too. But I didn’t feel like it would.

The hotel had a fun vibe; the walls were decorated with dark glass and deep-purple colours, and there were gilt accessories everywhere.

He smiled at the receptionist as we walked past, then pointed at a door as his arm slid off my shoulders. ‘Go on.’

I pushed the door, but it didn’t open easily. I had to push both of the double doors to get either one to open. Then the music kicked in, Katy Perry’s ‘Birthday’. The room was dark but at the far end disco lights were flashing, green, mauve, pink and blue.

‘Surprise!’ The room full of people yelled at me.

I turned to look at Rick. He grinned at me. ‘You said you wanted to do something different.’

‘Yes.’ I could hardly breathe. I hadn’t imagined this. See. He was soooo nice. Sooo thoughtful. How could I not love him any more? Or had I never loved him and only just started realising it? Maybe I’d grasped at all his niceness because he’d loved me, and how could I have turned my back on that?

‘Ivy, darling.’

‘Mum.’

‘He is a clever boy, isn’t he? You didn’t have a clue, did you, when you spoke to me this morning?’

I shook my head as Mum hugged me.

Then Dad hugged me. ‘Happy Birthday, darling.’

‘Hello, dear.’ Rick had even managed to get my frail Nan here. I hugged her too.

‘Ah! You look gorgeous!’ My best friend, Milly, squealed, before wrapping her arms around me. ‘I’ve been bursting to let this slip for weeks. Steve has been threatening to stitch my lips up.’

The stream of my family and Rick’s family and our friends, who wanted to wish me well, kept coming and they all thought Rick was amazing for doing this for me. I hadn’t even taken my coat off yet.

‘Let me take your coat.’ Rick was still near me. I turned and then his hands were holding my coat on my shoulders so I could take my arms out. Soooo nice.

‘Good job, mate.’ Steve slapped Rick’s shoulder. Steve, Milly’s partner, was Rick’s best friend. It made for perfect couples’ nights out – or in, my inner voice snapped sarcastically. I was such a bitch in my head.

‘Come and dance.’ Milly grabbed my hand.

‘I’ll get you a drink! A G&T?’ Rick shouted after me.

I nodded.

I should be happy. I still felt sick and miserable. I was glad I could dance, though. Glad I was dancing and not sitting at a table facing Rick on my own, and I was going to get drunk.

Maybe Rick was right. Maybe this would pass. Maybe if I hung on, tomorrow I’d wake up and be madly in love with him and happy again.

But I couldn’t remember when I’d been truly happy. Had I ever been properly happy?

Not for years.

I danced a lot and Rick kept handing me glasses of gin and tonic.

I drowned myself in the music and gin, to the point that I didn’t care that the hem of my dress had ridden up to the top of my thighs and was way too short and probably showing off the lacy tops of my holdup stockings.

When the DJ started playing slow songs Rick came over. I’d kicked my heels off in the centre of the circle of friends I’d been dancing with. I put them back on as Rick held my arm, steadying me.

‘Are you having a good night?’ he whispered into my ear.

‘Yes, thank you.’

‘You’re welcome.’

Suddenly the music stopped playing and the lights went on. I blinked.

Rick descended on to one knee.

No! No!

‘Ivy, you know how much I love you, and I have loved you for a long time.’

Shit! Shit! Why was he doing this now? Why here, in front of everyone? Oh, my God. Rick!

‘So, I thought it was time…’ His hand went down and dug into the pocket of his black trousers. ‘…to…’ he glanced up and gave me a grin as he was still struggling with his pocket. But then his hand came up and between his finger and thumb a solitaire diamond caught the electric light and sparkled.

Oh, my God.

‘… ask you to marry me. Will you marry me, Ivy?’

My mouth opened, but I didn’t say a word. My throat was dry. Shit. Shit! Why had he done this? ‘I…’ I couldn’t say yes. I couldn’t. ‘I’m sorry.’ I swallowed, steeling myself to say the word. ‘No. I can’t.’ Oh, my God.

I turned away from him, shaking all over. My mum and dad stared at me. His parents stared at me. Nan stared at me. Milly stared at me. Everyone was staring at me.

Shit.

I walked across the empty dance floor. The entire room was silent.

He knew I didn’t want to commit yet. Why had he done it? What did he think, that because everyone was here I’d be forced to agree?

Images of his slippers, pyjamas and cardigans spun around in my head.

I wasn’t ready to settle down into a quiet domesticated life. I wasn’t a dog to be sat with and stroked on the sofa every night. I wanted to live life, to see and do things I hadn’t done yet; to be allowed to go crazy when I wanted to.

I wanted to do lots of things. New things. Wild things.

I didn’t want to be sitting at home forced to look after the kids he wanted me to breed.

I hid in a cubicle in the toilet still trembling.

The door into the toilets opened. ‘Ivy.’

Milly.

The door into the toilets slammed shut behind her. ‘Are you okay?’

‘No.’ I opened the cubicle door. ‘Will you get my coat for me? I need to get out of here. I can’t stay with Rick. I can’t go home with him.’ My eyes filled with tears that ran on to my cheeks, probably smearing the mascara I’d so carefully applied before I came out. I wiped the tears away.

‘It’s okay. Wait here?’

Shit. Steve was his friend. If I went home with them, this was going to be so awkward. But I couldn’t go home with Rick.

Chapter 1

Today, December 24th

The phone rang out its sixth ring. It was annoying me. Jack hadn’t come into work yet so the phone in his office wasn’t going to be answered. The answer machine would kick in on the next ring, like it had done four times in the last ten minutes. But whoever was calling hadn’t left a message and I was guessing it was the same person.

Oh bugger. I snatched up my phone and keyed in the number to pick up the call. Jack didn’t like his calls answered unless he’d transferred the calls to someone. But whoever it was wasn’t going to stop ringing and I wasn’t in the mood to listen to it. ‘J’s Advertising.’ I glanced at the clock; it was after twelve. Jack was really late. ‘Good afternoon. This is Ivy. How may I help you?’

‘It’s Sharon. Where is he?’

Shit. What did I say? I had no idea how my boss would like me to respond to the wife he was divorcing, and I had no idea where he was anyway. That was probably why he hadn’t transferred his phone to anyone. ‘Hello, Sharon. I’m sorry, he’s not in the office.’

‘Well, where is he, then? I want him to do something for me.’

I opened up his e-calendar to take a peek, although I didn’t plan on telling her. It said ‘private appointment’. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know. I’m afraid he hasn’t let anyone know.’

‘Well, tell him to call me when he does come in.’ The call was cut off, with no goodbye, and no thank you.

‘Who was it?’ Emma, Jack’s business partner, called over.

I turned and smiled at her. ‘Sharon.’

‘Oh.’

A couple of glances passed around the office.

Rumour had it that Sharon had caught him cheating. But that was Jack; he flirted constantly with clients, it was part of his winning sales approach. But Sharon had been as bad – and the two of them put together—

The door into the office opened. ‘Morning, all you lovely happy people!’

Talk of the devil.

‘Nice to see you all smiling at me, but not surprising, seeing as you’re about to get a few days off. I suppose you’re going to the pub after work.’

‘Aren’t you, then?’ Mark asked him.

‘No, I need to work on the Mack’s account, seeing as you are all finishing early.’ Jack said it with a smile. ‘But you can knock off at two, and have several on me, so you can get thoroughly drunk.’ He stopped at the desk near the door, pulled out his wallet, and selected two fifty-pound notes, which he let flutter down on to the table. ‘That should do for a few rounds.’

He shot a smile around the room, gave us a nod, then walked on.

He was a good boss in many ways. Fun-loving and a little crazy, even if he had tendency to be a control freak. He liked laughter and noise. He said laughter and noise had energy, and energy was inspiring, and as we were an advertising agency we needed to be inspired.

He was the thing that inspired me. He had magnetism. It was in his smile and his enthusiasm. He pulled me along like the Pied Piper of advertising and his levels of positivity gave me more energy.

‘The Mack’s account isn’t urgent! They don’t need the idea until mid-January! You can come for a drink!’ Emma called over as he walked into his office.

He turned and gripped the doorframe, leaning back out. ‘Thanks, but no thanks, Em. I’ll pass this year anyway.’

‘Jack Rendell passing on a drink…’ I said in a low voice.

He heard and looked at me. ‘Jack Rendell working late, now that is nothing different.’

‘No, that is true.’ I smiled at him. He had nice eyes; they were a very pale blue.

‘Good morning, Ivy.’ His gaze skimmed over my hair and my face, then settled on my eyes.

‘Good afternoon, Jack. You’ve missed an hour or two.’

He glanced up at the clock, then shrugged. ‘Yes.’

He was being weird today. He wasn’t himself. He was missing his usual exuberance.

‘Sharon called you. She asked me tell you to call her when you came in. She said there was something she wants you to do.’

‘Well, she can get lost and find another fool to do her chores, and if she calls again you can tell her I said that.’

I didn’t know how to answer. But he didn’t expect me to. He turned and went into his office, a glass walled box to one side of the room, then took off his coat.

When he hung it up on the coat rack in there the movement pulled his jumper up a little and his shirt out of his waistband, revealing a line of pale flesh. He was always well dressed, in designer clothes, mostly. Today he was wearing skinny-cut black trousers and a black pinstripe shirt beneath a burgundy jumper. The jumper was tight and I’d guess the shirt beneath it was fitted. From side on, his stomach was like a board. He was slender and muscular. He must spend hours in a gym at his house – or somewhere.

His hands slipped into his pockets and he walked over to the window, looking out at the view the office had of London. After a moment he turned around and caught me watching. He smiled. I smiled back and when he sat down I picked up my phone.

‘Jack,’ was all he said when he answered.

‘You don’t seriously expect me to get in the middle of your messy separation do you? Because I’m not up for that.’

He laughed. ‘Not if you can’t take a dozen rounds with Sharon; she fights hard and she has a cracking left jab.’ He sighed out a breath. ‘Okay, if she calls again put her through.’

‘Okay, but she was calling your phone.’

‘Then why did you answer?’

‘Because she kept ringing and it was annoying.’

‘Well, expect lots of ‘annoying’ in the next few months, Ivy, because she’s not letting our ship sink easily.’ He put the phone down.

Ten minutes later his phone rang, the tone announcing it was a call from outside. I looked over and watched him. He waited until it went to the answer machine, then lifted the phone off the hook. Two minutes later I heard his personal mobile ring; he didn’t answer that either. Then he got up and stuck his head out of the office. ‘Hey, Em. Are you up for changing our number?’