by Meg MacRose
He’d forgotten about that night, but now that he’d seen Lacey again, he struggled to keep it out of his mind.
Chapter 2
“Mummy, Mummy. You’re not listening to me. I want to go to Adda’s place to play.”
Lacey glanced down at her beautiful, curly-haired daughter. Her expression was wistful, and her fingers laced together as if she were praying. “Can I? Can I?”
Therese was right; she hadn’t been listening to her. Ever since she had returned from Diana’s and Nick’s house, she had been distracted. She’d had two negative experiences at that house. She didn’t like confrontation. But it wasn’t Diana who bothered her, it was her fiancée who held her thoughts. Nick. His name was Nick or Nicky. Nicky didn’t suit, she decided. He was too masculine and sure of himself to be a Nicky. Well, at least now, at some time in the future, she could share his name with her daughter.
“Mummy? Please Mummy.” She crouched down to smooth a stray hair from her daughter’s face. Lacey nodded. “Okay, you can go across to Adam’s house to play. I’ll come across later and collect you.”
Therese gave out a whoop of delight, her feet jumping high in the air.
“Yay, I’m off to Adda’s house.” It was only next door, but Adam, or Adda as she’d always called him, was her best friend and her daughter asked at every chance to go and play with him. Adam’s mum was like herself, a single mum, and welcomed Therese’s company any time. It was often easier with having a single child for them to be distracted by a friend rather than having to constantly be entertained.
Lacey felt confused. What should she do about Nick? The right thing to do, would be to be honest and tell Nick that he had fathered a child when they’d made love one drunken night five years ago at a party. But Nick’s engagement complicated matters, and his fiancée was nothing short of dreadful. Lacey’s protective mothering instincts kicked in. There was no way that she could expose her beautiful Therese to someone like Diana.
With Therese at Adam’s house for the next couple of hours, Lacey planned to get some work done. There were always emails to check, and she had a couple of larger projects that needed to be juggled. It was almost a relief to not have to work on Diana’s house anymore. She’d only accepted it as a favour to the company she was contracted to; apparently, they believed it would be great exposure for them. But she had a waiting list of interested clients, so whether she proceeded with Diana and Nick’s house or not, she wouldn’t be impacted financially.
She opened her email account, still distracted by Nick. As if he had read her mind, a message from Nick Silverton flicked through as she stared at the screen.
It had to be him.
Nick, Diana’s fiancée and Lacey’s ex-client.
Nick, Therese’s biological father.
Lacey’s heart tightened and she breathed out in slow even breaths, as she tried in vain to restore some sense of equilibrium. Did Nick know already about Therese? It was one of her biggest concerns; what to do if or when Therese’s father ever entered their lives.
Don’t be silly, she chided herself. She shook her head. There was no way that Nick knew about Therese. She’d never spoken about her personal life with clients, as she preferred to remain professional. And her personal social media accounts were only linked to close friends and colleagues. She glanced back at his name on her screen and cursed out loud. Even though she didn’t want to tell Nick about Therese, it wasn’t her decision. If he wanted to have a role in their daughter’s life, then she owed it to Therese to tell him. If he didn’t, then she’d at least tried, and could explain that to her daughter when she was older.
With an almost absent motion of her hand on the mouse, the email from Nick opened. The message was short and succinct.
Good morning Lacey,
I would appreciate if we could meet up as soon as possible to discuss the continuation of the interior design of 55 Cricklewood Avenue, Muswell Hill. I expect the designs to continue as per your original designs. If you are unable to continue, I would like to hand them over to another company for continuation.
Lacey read through the message for a second time. There was no mention of Diana.
He signed off as Nick. The wording below the message made her smile as she read his title.
Nicholas Silverton,
Executive Director Mason’s Pty Ltd.
Her smile was more wry than it was humorous and was aimed at her mother. Her mother had set her sights on Lacey being married off to some wealthy executive with the right lineage. Mason’s, renowned as a huge, impressive company with their fingers in many pots, and the Silverton surname had been on her mother’s hitlist of potential suitors. The irony was that the father of the child her mother had disowned her for met all her criteria. One day, she’d revel in the mockery of her parents’ high hopes; if she ever decided to tell them.
Lacey’s mind drifted back to that fateful night when she’d walked out of her parents’ home for the last time. She’d stood to leave the dining room, her mother’s abrasive monologue following her out.
“There’s been no single mothers in the history of the Holmes family or the Davis family I am so ashamed of you. What did you think you were doing? You have ruined all chances of marrying someone suitable. I knew I shouldn’t let you go to that university. Look at the ideas they gave you. Don’t think you can come begging to us for money. You’ve made your bed, and you can stay there. And Lacey, don’t think I want to be Grandma to your bastard child.”
Her mother’s biting words had been flung at her in anger, and they still hurt. She hadn’t bothered to placate her mother. And her father, he had stood there with a dark look on his face and uttered not a single word in defence for his daughter. So, she had walked out of their front door, and never seen them since. She didn’t even send a photo of Therese when she was born. It wasn’t worth the emotional energy. She didn’t talk about them and Therese never asked about them.
Anyway, they had Ted and Louise who, when they did visit, doted on Therese. Ted was her father’s quiet and unassuming younger brother. He had been an absolute star who guided her professional path since she’d first showed an interest as a teenager. He’d arranged for her to get work experience during school holidays in his own company. Like her father, Ted came from a wealthy family who considered themselves the upper class, and so he designed exclusively for the rich and famous. Louise, Ted’s beautiful wife of over forty years, had given Lacey the emotional support that a child with absent self-entitled parents needed to stay on track. Louise couldn’t have her own children and had over the years showered Lacey with much love and devotion. Now it was Therese’s turn to be the recipient of her affections, albeit infrequently. Louise had role-modelled to Lacey the importance of self-actualisation and encouraged her to pursue a career. She herself was dedicated to her job as the director at the popular Soho Art Gallery.
Lacey’s own mother had never worked, not in a paid capacity. Along with other bored, rich housewives, she held a token seat on many charity advisory boards, played tennis and shopped in classy boutiques who catered to the rich. Imagine if her Mother had known that Nick Silverton was the father of her child; surely she would have demanded a wedding, and then engineered the biggest ceremony that London had ever seen. It would’ve been her mother’s ticket to short-term stardom amongst her rich friends. At least with her ignorance to his name, Lacey had avoided that circus.
She deleted the first draft that she wrote in response to Nick, deeming it too casual. She reworded it carefully to match his own formal tone and pressed send on the second version. She arranged to meet Nick on Monday mid-morning at his house. It would give her enough time to walk with Therese to school at half past eight, return home, grab her beloved 150cc red motorbike and be on her way. She’d found over the years that her bike suited most job sites for both speed and ease, particularly when she compared it to trying to navigate either the transit system or busy aerial roads out of London in her car. Besides, she quite liked dre
ssing in her leather jacket. It gave the perception of confidence and told people she was not a lady to be messed with. Though last time she’d met Nick, her confidence had been in short supply. His presence had really shaken her.
She’d recognised him almost at once. The first thought that had run through her head was to flee before he found out about Therese. By the time she had ridden half-way home, she’d calmed herself down and rationalised that Nick would be none the wiser about Therese. She didn’t plan to continue working for them, so there was no pressure to maintain a client relationship with him or with Diana.
The problem she’d had was she hadn’t been able to sleep since seeing him. Nick had invaded her dreams, and that short rendezvous that they’d had at the charity ball had played over and over in her head. Lacey was unsure if time made it seem more romantic, but memories of their unplanned encounter in the night garden had kept her both awake and aroused most of the night. His body when it pressed on her own against the garden wall was if it had been sculpted just for her. She remembered the awkwardness of their bulky costumes had led to the most unusual form of foreplay, which had occurred while their lips had been all but glued together. It had been quite a night.
Meeting Nick again might be a mistake, she told herself. But she had made it quite clear that she was not interested in finishing their contract. She assumed that Nick had already employed another designer and needed her to run her through the designs to date. Besides, she wasn’t so deprived that seeing a handsome man who had once turned her on would bring her to her knees.
She ticked off her mental list. She’d have to rearrange the other activities that she’d planned to do on Monday, but there was nothing pressing that couldn’t be completed on Tuesday after she walked Therese into school.
###
Nick gazed out of the window of his sedan. His driver drove with measured precision to miss the large potholes that seemed to have multiplied since he was at the jobsite the week before. Due to their slow progress, the driveway for his new house appeared longer. The location of their new home was incredible. The view never seemed to amaze him. Though the perception of space that he had now may change once those other houses were completed and were visible from his property. He anticipated the area would become very sought after once the housing prices started to rise again. The village was accessible to London with the main ring road only six or so minutes away. Not that he ever used the tube, but there was also a tube station not ten-minute’s walk away. The area was also not over developed which meant it didn’t have a congested urban feel. There were enough mature trees and well-tended gardens for it to still retain a village feel. His driveway was long and narrow, and fringed by old hawthorn hedges that stood in proud defiance to the neighbouring properties. The hedges provided privacy, and his head of security had approved of them for the protection that they provided. Besides the hedges shielded the house from the neighbouring properties. There was a sense of mystery as they followed the treelined gravel driveway. The build of his house had come along just as he wished. To date, there had been no lengthy delays or budget blow-outs. The architect had excelled himself, and the house looked like it belonged on its site.
His eyes squinted against the bright morning sun; he was early. There was no one else here, the tradesmen weren’t due to return until this afternoon after some concrete was delivered.
She wasn’t due for another half an hour. It would give him a chance to wander through his half-made house and collect his thoughts. He wasn’t sure why he’d even gotten her email address off Diana. Diana was desperate to make amends, as her friends had not been impressed that she had sacked Lacey Holmes, the most sought-after interior designer ever in their minds. He was here to grovel on Diana’s behalf, or worst-case scenario, for Lacey’s designs to be handed on to another company so they could still be implemented. But if he was honest with himself, it wasn’t the house designs that had driven him to email her. His mind had been distracted by thoughts of her snug jeans over her hips combined with the more distant memories of that one night they’d had together.
They had met at some costume charity ball. It had been held in the middle of winter in some old homestead. He’d been dressed up like some cavalier man out of a Jane Austin novel. She had also been dressed up in a similar period costume, one that accentuated her bosom and hips. Her hair hadn’t been short like it is now. She’d had auburn coloured long wavy tendrils that were heaped up on her head. Maybe they were drawn together because their costumes seemed to match, or maybe there had been something else, he didn’t know. All he could remember was the flirtatious dance they had participated in when they were first introduced. It was so long ago he couldn’t even remember who had introduced them. But he did remember how they had sizzled. Before the ball had finished, they had ended up outside in the cold night air, snogging in a garden nook that was lit up with twinkling fairy lights. They had been like two teenagers as they grabbed at each other, and had made love in a quick frenzied fashion, concluding with the most intense orgasm that he’d ever experienced. She had been just as turned on as he had been. And although they had already climaxed and come, their half-naked bodies remained entwined, until the sound of voices had disturbed them. With inept icy fingers, they had readjusted their clothes and started to head their way back to the music that blasted from the ballroom, before they were discovered by a group of costumed partygoers who needed a cigarette. She, whose name at that point he still didn’t know, had excused herself to restore her costume and remove some of the fernery that had made itself into her hair. He’d waited with bated breath, one eye fixed across the ballroom, as he’d anticipated her return. She had excited him like he had never experienced before. As he stood close to the large table of punch, he had waited and waited. It was only when his friend Alex came over to stand with him, that he realised that she wasn’t returning. He’d never laid eyes on her again until last week.
Apart from acquiring the house designs, or confirming that she would continue working on them, he didn’t know what it was that he wanted from her. Not a relationship, that was for sure. In only a few weeks, he’d be marrying Diana, a gorgeous socialite who would be suitable for hosting dinner parties for his international clients. Besides, his mother had orchestrated his first meeting with Diana, and approved of Diana. According to his father, having Mother’s approval made life a lot easier for everyone. He knew it was time to marry and settle down, but for some reason, he had always thought it would be with someone he found to be his soulmate, not just a piece of eye-candy. Eye-candy who seemed to find delight in complaining about the most insignificant things. Only last night when they had gone out for dinner at his favourite Thai restaurant, she had whinged that the chair was uncomfortable, the wine not cold enough and that her curry was spicy. He had left the conscientious waiter an extra fifty-pound tip to apologise. But he had been mortified by Diana’s behaviour, ordering in a terse voice for his driver to drop her off first at her flat en-route to his own. She’d tried seducing him in the back of his car, but he had effectively dismissed her by pulling out his phone and responding to some voice messages from work.
The sound of a motorbike close by snapped Nick out of his daydream. She was here, bike and all. It suited, that someone who could make his heart race at a ball would ride a motorbike. He hurried across so that he could stand at the lounge window overlooking the driveway, obscured by the scaffolding still on the outside of the building. She was still wearing her bike helmet and leather jacket. Aware that he was spying on her, he couldn’t avert his gaze. She looked delicate and small next to the motorbike. As she removed her helmet, she shook her head as if it was a habit from when she still had long hair. Nick could feel his manhood bulging. Even from this distance, she had an incredible sexiness to her movements. He gawped at her as she bent down and retrieved a flat bag from her panniers. He could see that it wasn’t jeans that she wore today, but dark green leather riding trousers. Oh man, a girl in leathers. His desire for her
increased tenfold.
This was not a good idea meeting her here alone with no-one else in the house. But it was a little too late, he realised. Diana, while experienced in bed, had never provoked him to this level of intense arousal. And Lacey was still fully clothed standing on the driveway. It was going to be a long morning.
He made his way to the front door to greet her. Her hand was poised like she was just about to knock at the door, when he pulled it wide open.
“Good morning Lacey. Thank you for coming out on such short notice.” His voice sounded raspy, even to himself. He took a deep breath and tried to steady the nervous ball that had settled in his stomach. He ignored the curious stare of his driver from next to his car in the driveway.
“Please come in.” He turned, knowing that he was giving her no option but to follow him inside. She had looked skittish at the front door, as if she was about to bolt at any second. With all the self-determination he could muster, he refused to look back to check if she was following him. From the way she handled herself with Diana, and the small snippets that Diana had shared with him, he was sure that out of professional respect for her client, she had come inside. Once they were at the big table in the otherwise empty kitchen, the same table that Diana and Lacey had met at last week, he turned to face her. “I must apologise for Diana’s outburst. We won’t be incorporating any of the pink additions to our designs. I would be most grateful if you could please continue with the design of our house as you originally intended.”
With hooded eyes, Nick watched in silence as Lacey shook her head in three sharp movements.
“I’m sorry. I’m sure that you mean well. But even before your wife, sorry, your fiancée shouted at me last week, she had already deluged me with an unacceptable number of last-minute changes and late-night phone messages. My time is very precious, and I don’t have the energy or the inclination to work with needy clients who behave that way. I am in the lucky position of having more work coming my way than I have capacity to complete. I’m sure you’ll understand if I decline your suggestion. I can recommend a number of good designers to you. It seems this was a wasted journey. I had assumed you needed me here to hand over my designs to someone else.”
