Miranda's Big Mistake - Jill Mansell [140]
`Duck!' Bev flung herself on to the muddy bank as a rustling in the undergrowth and a flash of yellow signalled the presence of the enemy. Splat, a paintball exploded against a rock, inches from her left ear.
The next moment Stuart had spun round and fired back. `Bastard!' howled the enemy as his chest was splattered with red paint.
`Quick, there's another one!'
Rolling on to her back, Bev flicked away the slug that had attached itself to her sleeve and reached for fresh ammunition.
`He's heading for the bridge,' gasped Stuart. `I'll climb over those rocks, you follow the river. We'll corner him by the-'
WHUMMPPP! went the yellow paintball against Stuart's perspex goggles.
`Oh, shit, he's got me!'
`You're dead,' said Bev. `See you in the next game.' `Do me a favour. Shoot the fucker, okay?'
Bev watched Stuart trudge off through the trees, a deadman, temporarily at least. She flicked her sodden hair out of her eyes and levered herself upright, watching and listening out for the enemy. It was hard to move quietly when you had half a river sloshing around in your boots. Hard to stab upright, too, when the mud was slurping around your ankles doing its level best to suck you into its murky depths.
Suddenly spotting a flicker of movement through the tree: ahead, Bev froze and drew up her gun. Keeping it trained steadily in front of her, she held her breath.
Bugger, it was only a squirrel. She exhaled slowly. `Don't move,' whispered a voice behind her, and she fel the barrel of a gun being pressed into her back.
Oh, shit, thought Bev, furious with herself. Now I'n dead too.
`Close your eyes,' hissed the voice.
Bev closed her eyes and waited for the splat.
`Turn around slowly.'
She turned, her boots squelching inelegantly in the mud her breathing fast and shallow.
`Keep your eyes shut. Don't speak.'
Bev's heart was racing like a train. She felt warm breatl on her face, then a mouth tentatively brushing hers. He whole body tingled in response - as it had never tingle(before - and she found herself leaning forwards, desperate for more.
Heavens, so this was what they meant by war being ai aphrodisiac…
`You tart,' said Johnnie, breaking away with a grin. could have been anybody.'
Bev smiled.
`I recognised your aftershave.'
`Can I tell you something?'
`What?'
`That's the first time I've seen you smile.'
`Can I ask you something?' countered Bev.
`What?'
`That thing you just did, the thing that vaguely resembled a kiss. Was that it, or is there more?'
`Oh, there's more,' Johnnie promised. He brushed her wet hair away from her cheeks and thought how beautiful she looked. `If you're sure you don't mind fraternising with the enemy?'
Trembling, Bev put her arms around him and raised her mouth to his.
This time there was nothing tentative about the kiss. Johnnie slid his tongue into her mouth and she responded for all she was worth. Oh God, he was a fabulous kisser, he really was, and the way he was running his hands over her body, well, it was just too good an opportunity to miss-
WHUMMPPP! WHUMMPPP!
`What the-?' Johnnie gasped, jerking away and twisting round to see the explosions of scarlet paint running down his back. He gazed in disbelief at the pistol in Bev's hand.
`Bang bang, you're dead,' said Bev.
Chapter 55
Ahead of them, at the end of the sweeping gravel drive, the Manor House Hotel loomed out of the mist like a mirage in a desert. Only this was the reverse of a desert mirage. Water they had plenty of on such a damp, grey and increasingly chilly evening. But the sight of warm lights glowing welcomingly in windows, combined with the prospect of lounging in front of a crackling log fire sipping brandy and digesting a fabulous meal was too great to resist.
`What do you think?' Johnnie kept the engine ticking over. As if she was likely to say no.
`Yes yes yes,' Bev breathed. Warmth, heat, food, drink, all those unimaginable luxuries, in the most gorgeous of surroundings. A horrid thought suddenly struck her. `Oh
no…
`What?'