Hate to Love You(52)

“Ouch.”

“If James allows me to see Ryan, I’m converting to African     sugar magic.”

Tarzan made woo woo noises.

I lifted my glass. “Fuck you.”

He gave me an admonishing look. “Every time you swear, an angel     dies.”

Shit, time to go. I checked my watch and pulled on Tarzan’s arm     as I got up. It was too hot to wear my itchy black wig so I pulled my hair into     a ponytail and put on what Tarzan snidely calls my SWAT cap.

The Bull and Bush was conveniently located on the edge of     Hampstead Heath and from there it was a ten-minute walk through the woods to     where the playing fields were located. There were several games in progress but     it was easy to spot Ryan’s team from their school colours. They hadn’t started     playing yet so we hung back at the periphery of the woods.

“Where’s Marcia today?” Tarzan asked, a little too     casually.

I told him about her shift. “She’s sworn off men for now,     Reverend. The good news is that tall Afro-Caribbean football hunks are at the     bottom of her wish list. Medium height, lanky white men of God, however, might     stand a chance when she’s back on track.”

Tarzan had never met Trevor. “Afro-Caribbean hunks, huh?”

“Sporty jocks, not computer-geek ministers.”

“Damn.”

I widened my eyes. “You just killed St. Peter.”

I pointed my camera at the players and Tarzan lowered my hand.     “You don’t want irate parents demanding to know why you’re photographing their     kids, nor do you want James to realise you’re here and take action.”

Tarzan had an excellent point. Being spotted was the last thing     I needed with a restraining order hanging over my head.

The rugby game started and I squinted at the field. From this     distance it was hard to make out which child was Ryan but I thought I saw him     playing full back.

I watched him for a few minutes, alternating between his wavy     brown head and the group of parents around the touchlines. I scanned beyond the     playing fields looking for James and saw his mother.

Francesca had gone grey but otherwise she still looked much the     same. She was sitting in a fold-up chair next to a pile of kit, staring in our     direction. Shit, I didn’t want to leave Ryan. How the hell had she recognised me     from all the way over there?

“We look like vultures,” I moaned. “Harbingers of doom.”

“Better that than creepy child watchers.”

I turned my back on the field. “Is she still looking?”

“No,” he said cheerfully. “She’s walking towards us and she     looks determined to have a word. I’m glad. It’ll be a good chance for you     to—”

“Fuck! Kiss me, Tarzan.”

Not a phrase I’d ever imagined saying but I was in a jam. I     stuck my lips on his and did a sort of nineteen forties film-kiss action,     twisting my head side to side and eliciting an “mmmph” from Tarzan. His chest     shook as I assaulted him. He was laughing, the bastard. I broke off and wrapped     my hands around his waist.#p#分页标题#e#

“Is she coming?” I said, squeezing tight.

His voice was constricted. “No, but soon I won’t be able to say     the same about myself—it’s been a while.”

I pulled away sheepishly. “Sorry.”

Tarzan sighed. “At least I don’t have to wonder what people     will think anymore. I’m a pervert minister who sucks tongue with the grim reaper     in front of primary-school children.”

I laughed at his martyred expression. “I’ll tell Marcia you’re     a great kisser.”

His face brightened. “And I give good hug?”

Francesca cleared her throat behind us and I turned around,     well and truly rumbled.

“I’m glad you’re here, Paisley,” she said without preamble. “We     need to talk before James arrives.”

What the fuck? This was the woman who hadn’t even looked at me     during the court hearing for the restraining order, the woman who refused to     acknowledge my existence although I’d repeatedly begged her to hear me out, just     for a second.