He showed him how the shower worked in the wet room off the lobby by the pool, then left him to it. He hovered in earshot, though, preparing the salad in the kitchen, and when he heard the water stop he went up to his room and showered and dressed in record time. He’d promised Annie no harm would come to her son, and although he knew he was taking it to ridiculous extremes, as far as he was concerned that included slipping in the shower.
He’d also promised Annie a swim, but after the exhausting chase up and down the pool and rough and tumble he’d had with Stephen, he was more than ready to slump into a chair with a glass of Antoine’s wine and put his feet up.
All that exercise on top of damn all sleep was a killer. Chess was just about all he felt he could manage.
‘OK, Sport?’
Stephen nodded. He was standing in the dining room, his hair spiking wildly, peering out over the valley. ‘Is that our village?’ he asked, pointing, and Michael nodded.
‘Yup. See the church spire? Your house must be down and to the left a bit.’
‘I can’t see it.’
‘That might be because the lights aren’t on, if your mum isn’t at home yet,’ he replied, resisting the urge to ruffle the boy’s hair for the sake of it. ‘You can see it better in the daytime.’
‘Can I come and swim again? At the weekend?’ And then his face lit up. ‘Oh. Can’t come at the weekend. I’m going to Bristol with Edward for Tom’s birthday! Ed’s dad’s driving us down on Saturday morning early, because he’s got a meeting or something, and we’re going to an assault course on Saturday and then we’re going to have pizza and go to the cinema, and Mum’s bringing us back on Sunday. It’s going to be so wicked.’
‘In Bristol?’ he said.
Stephen nodded. ‘Tom lives there now. He moved just after my birthday. I haven’t seen him for ages.’
Since July or thereabouts, Michael calculated. Ages? He didn’t know what ages was. Ages was Stephen’s lifetime. All of it, from the moment of conception—
‘Fancy a game of chess?’
‘Yeah! Wonder if I’ll beat you again?’
‘Not if I have anything to say about it!’ Michael said drily. ‘Being beaten once by an eight-year-old is hard. Being beaten more than that is downright careless.’
‘Maybe I’m just dead good?’
Michael snorted. ‘Maybe you just got lucky.’
‘We’ll see, shall we?’ Stephen said with a cheeky grin, and Michael allowed himself one masculine and sporting ruffle of the dark, damp hair so like his own.
‘Oh, I think I’m ready for you.’
‘You reckon?’
‘I reckon. Bring it on, Tiger. Let’s see what you’re made of.’
* * *
He was improving, there was no question about it, but he wasn’t there yet. He wouldn’t catch Michael without cooperation for a while, but then he had a heck of a lot of catching up to do.
Months. Months and months of sitting over a chessboard or a computer waiting for his face to heal, for his ribs to recover and the plaster casts to come off his arms, for his voice to come back to something approaching normal after his throat had been kicked in.
Months when there’d been nothing else to do but lie and watch television or think about David and what had gone wrong.
Months haunted by David’s death, by Ruth’s long, slow road to recovery, by the memory of Annie’s tears when he’d told her he loved her just before he’d left her for the last time.
Months he didn’t want to remember or go through ever again—
‘Check.’
He sucked in a sharp breath, stared down at the board and frowned. Hell’s teeth. He was losing it. Getting sloppy.
He studied the pieces for a moment, eyes narrowed, and then made his move. Stephen would have no choice but to do that, and then he could do that, and that would be it. He’d have him.
Ego saved for another day.
‘Your move.’
The outside lights came on, and he pushed back the chair and went to the door, opening it and standing there, propped against the door frame, watching her approach.
‘Is he OK?’
He smiled. ‘Of course he’s OK. We’ve had a great time. I’m just thrashing him at chess. Everything all right with you?’
She smiled up at him, her face softening. ‘It is now.’
His heart seemed to swell in his chest, and drawing the door to behind him, he lowered his head and stole a light, lingering kiss.
He felt the door open behind him and lifted his head, just as Stephen came out.
‘Have you brought supper? I’m starving!’
* * *
‘Mum, you have to see the pool! It’s brilliant!’
He grabbed her hand and towed her through the house, past the dining room where they’d eaten that amazingly romantic meal and where he’d danced with her and kissed her oh, so beautifully, through the kitchen and off through a doorway at the end into a lobby. Then on, through the lobby, and into a huge room, another barn in its own right. And there, filling the centre, was a clear, still pool that gleamed in the light streaming through the windows from the floodlights in the courtyard outside.
Michael reached round beside her and touched a switch, and light flooded the room—under the water, up into the beams, through the plants—everywhere, but so subtle, so carefully planned that the sources were all but invisible.
‘I didn’t cover it—I wasn’t sure if you’d want to go in later.’
She did. She wanted to so much it was almost an ache, but she had so much to do, and swimming practically naked with Michael in this somehow very intimate setting was not one of the things on her to-do list. Her wish-list, however, was a different matter!
‘That’s my favourite bit,’ he said, pointing to a recess, and she saw a huge round whirlpool. ‘My treat, after a long workout, as a reward for being good. And it’s brilliant for getting the kinks out when I’ve been writing hard.’
It looked wonderfully, enormously inviting, and she felt herself wavering.
She dragged her eyes away and smiled down at Stephen. ‘I bet you had loads of fun.’
‘I did—and Michael says I can come again, but not the weekend because I’m at Tom’s, so it’ll have to be another time—’
‘Hey, hey, slow down! Maybe Michael doesn’t want you constantly underfoot. In fact, let’s eat and get you home. You’re getting over-excited and you’ve got school tomorrow.’
‘He’s fine. He’s a kid. He’s allowed to be enthusiastic. So—does it appeal? Do I leave the cover off?’
She hesitated, and he grinned and dropped an arm round her shoulders, hugging her briefly before releasing her and turning away.
‘I’ll leave it—keep your options open. Did you manage to find anything for us to eat?’
She nodded, following him reluctantly away from the inviting water and back into the kitchen. ‘I brought some soup and quiche and a few slices of cheesecake. Is that OK? Not quite up to your standard, I’m afraid, but it was the best I could do—’
‘It sounds great. I don’t suppose you brought corn bread?’
She would have teased him, but he saw the indulgent smile just as she felt it reach her eyes. ‘Now, what do you think?’
If Stephen hadn’t been there, she thought he would have hugged her again. Instead he winked, and she felt the impact of it right down to her toes.
‘Plates?’ she said, getting practical, and he put the crockery out on the central island, retrieved the salad from his huge American fridge-freezer and put it on the table.
‘Any of that dressing left?’ she asked, and he nodded.
‘In the fridge.’
She opened it, and laughed.
It was vast—and almost empty. Some cheese, a tired wedge of melon, a few wrinkled grapes and a plastic milk carton—semi-skimmed, she noticed—were about all that was in it, except a few vegetables lurking in the drawers at the bottom and the remains of last night’s rice under cling wrap.
‘Good job you’ve got such a big fridge,’ she teased, and he grinned.
‘I bought it for the water chiller. I love iced water. Drink gallons of it.’
‘Can we have one, Mum?’ Stephen asked. ‘Look, it’s cool. You get a glass and push it here, and you get cold water, and if you push it here you get ice!’
She turned to Michael and gave a wry smile. ‘You seem to be a big hit with my son. Everything you have is either cool or brilliant.’
His smile was a little wary—or was that just because his mouth didn’t move quite right? She wasn’t sure, but it didn’t seem to reach his eyes.
‘We aim to please,’ he said lightly, and turned away, but not before she saw a slight grimace cross his face.
‘Are you OK?’
He nodded. ‘Just ache a bit. We swam for a long time. I might have twinged something.’
She had the distinct feeling he was lying, but she didn’t push it, and by the time the soup was heated and the meal was on the table, his smile was firmly back in place and Stephen was chattering nineteen to the dozen to cover any potential silences.
She told herself she was imagining it, but when Stephen wanted to swim again right after supper, he shook his head. ‘Only if your mother wants to. It’s getting late, and she’s got things to do.’
Outstaying their welcome? Suddenly it seemed like it.
She met his eyes. ‘I’m sorry. We’ve taken you over—’
‘No. Annie, I didn’t mean that,’ he said, apparently reading her mind. ‘I just don’t want you ending up exhausted because you’ve had to burn the candle at both ends. You’re more than welcome, both of you.’ He glanced away from her to Stephen.
‘We’ve got a game of chess to finish. Why don’t you go and make your move?’
‘I did. It’s your turn.’
‘Right. I’ll do that, then while I clear up you can make your next move, and if your mother wants to swim, she can be changing while we finish the game. If not, well, whatever. We can have a cup of coffee and you can go.’
His eyes were back on her again, putting the ball back in her court. Then he went over to the sitting area, stared down at the chessboard on the table in the middle, moved a piece and came back to her, leaving Stephen there to contemplate his next attempted coup.
‘I’d like you to stay a while,’ he murmured. ‘You aren’t overstaying your welcome, and I’m not trying to buy my way into your heart by spoiling your son.’
She frowned. ‘I didn’t think you were. The thought hadn’t even occurred to me. I was just concerned that you must be getting sick of him.’
A strange emotion flickered in his eyes and was gone. ‘Not at all. Did you bring your things?’
She nodded.
‘So, do you want to swim?’
‘Is the hot tub warm?’
His smile was slow and gentle. ‘No. It’s hot. It’s gorgeous, and it’ll do you good. Go and change and slide into it and wallow. I’ll come and join you when I’ve thrashed the pipsqeak. The changing room’s just off the lobby on the right.’
She nodded, picked up her bag and went through to the changing room.
Tumbled stone tiles covered the walls, the floor was warm slate, and there was a wet room that looked as if it had a drenching shower. No expense spared, then, she thought, and suddenly realised just how rich he must be.
How totally out of her league.
What on earth was she doing here with him? Why was he interested in her? Of all the women he could have, why her, for heaven’s sake? He was gorgeous! A real catch.
Why her?
She changed into her discreet and all-covering black chain-store costume, wrapped her towel around her like a sarong and headed out to the pool room.
He’d turned the lights on for her, and the whirlpool was bubbling gently. She dipped her toe in, sighed and followed it, sinking under the foaming water with a blissful sigh. Stretching her arms out along the rim, she laid back, shut her eyes and let go.
* * *
He stood there for a moment watching her. Stephen hadn’t wanted to swim again—not once he’d discovered there was satellite TV. He was settled on the sofa in front of a cartoon channel, and Michael didn’t think it would be long before his eyes drooped.
He wasn’t alone.
He’d brought coffee on a tray, and he set it down at the edge of the tub and slid into the water beside her.
‘Hi, gorgeous,’ he murmured and, leaning over, he dropped a kiss on her lips.
Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled at him sleepily.
‘I’m sorry—I must have dozed off.’
‘You’re tired. That’s fine. I’ve brought you coffee.’
He handed her a cup, and she sat up straighter and took it from him. He shifted so he was opposite her, watching her over the top of his cup. Their legs brushed, and her eyes flew up to meet his, automatically pulling her legs away a fraction.
He went after them, hooking his heels behind hers and pulling them back towards him, then threading his legs around hers so they were enclosed, all the time holding her eyes with his.
Heat flared in them, and she swallowed slightly.
He put his cup down, reached under the water and pulled her feet on to his lap, then one at a time he massaged her feet and ankles, easing out the strain of standing all day.
‘Oh, that’s bliss,’ she groaned, putting her own cup down and sliding further under the water, her hands locked on the rim to stop her sliding right under. He changed feet, and her toes brushed against his groin, making him suck in his breath sharply. The urge to pull her across the water and into his arms nearly overwhelmed him, but he concentrated on the other foot, reminding himself that her son…their son—was just a few metres away and didn’t need that liberal an education.
He just hoped he didn’t have to get out of the water in front of her any time soon.
‘So who won the chess?’ she asked lazily, and he gave a strained chuckle.
‘Who do you think? I’m not letting him get away with that twice.’
‘What’s he doing?’
‘Watching cartoons on the telly. I think he’s nearly asleep.’
‘Good. That means I don’t need to feel guilty for keeping him up.’
‘You could stay here,’ he suggested out of the blue. ‘I’ve got plenty of bedrooms.’
Including mine, with a very large, very empty bed just crying out for you—
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘That’s too much. Anyway, the cat will sulk.’
‘The cat always sulks. I’ve never seen that cat when it’s not sulking,’ he said with a grin.
‘Horrible cat. It acquired us five years ago. I suppose at some point I’m going to stop thinking of it as a stray.’
He laughed and rubbed his thumbs lightly over the soles of her feet, his fingers curled loosely over the top of her toes. ‘OK now?’
She nodded. ‘Lovely. Thank you. They really ache some days with all the standing.’
‘I can imagine.’ He tipped his head on one side. ‘About the weekend.’
She shook her head. ‘Stephen’s in Bristol with a friend for an old schoolmate’s birthday party. I have to drive down on Sunday and pick them up, and I’m open on Saturday. I won’t have a weekend, I’m afraid.’
‘I was thinking about Saturday night.’
She shook her head again. ‘No. I can’t do anything. I’ve got to make an early start on Sunday
if I’m going to Bristol and back.’
‘That’s what I was going to say. If you could get someone to cover you for Saturday afternoon, we could go down and spend the night near there and bring the kids back on Sunday. There’s a hotel just outside Cardiff with the most spectacular view across the city and over the bay, and the food’s wonderful. This time of year I shouldn’t think they’ll be too busy, so they should have a couple of rooms.’
‘A couple?’
Her eyes were worried.
‘A couple. No strings, Annie. I’m not trying to sneak you away for a dirty weekend. I just thought you might like to share the driving, and get away for a night. We could go in the Volvo. It’s a piece of cake to drive.’
‘I know. Roger used to have one; it was lovely.’ She nibbled her lip.
‘Penny for them.’
She met his eyes squarely, then came out with something totally unexpected.
‘Why me?’ she said.
His heart lurched. Oh, this one was dead easy. Too easy, but he wasn’t lying to her again. Never, if he had his way. This time, though, he didn’t have to. He simply told her the truth.
‘Because ever since I met you, I haven’t been able to get you out of my head. You make my sun come out, my days worth living. I want you, Annie. I want a relationship with you—a full-on, proper, serious relationship. I want us to have time to get to know each other, to be sure it’s what we both want, but as far as I’m concerned, it’s the real thing and nothing’s going to change that. I love you.’
She swallowed hard, looked away, looked back again, her eyes shimmering.
‘That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me—but you still haven’t answered my question.’
He shrugged. ‘I can’t. I don’t know why you, in particular, but it is you, very definitely. I’ve never felt like this about another woman in my life. And I’ve never told another woman that I love her.’
She closed her eyes, and the threatening tears spilled over and slid down her cheeks.
‘It’s so quick,’ she whispered.
He could have laughed out loud. Quick? They’d had nine years—but they hadn’t really, and she was right. It was quick. It had been quick then, and it was no different now.
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