by Romy Sommer
She concentrated on the sensations engulfing her body—the illicit thrill, the pure primal pleasure, the ultimate connection between two human beings...and didn't regret her impulsiveness one bit.
As they lay side by side afterwards, spent but content, lightly but unselfconsciously in contact—a foot here, a hand on a hip there—she told him why she had moved to Coombethwaite. “I've been on the legal treadmill since I chose my A-levels at fifteen years old but a colleague of mine, just two years older, died of a brain haemorrhage at her desk. I knew I had to get out and live a little.”
“Glad to be of service,” Drew answered with a cheeky grin, lightly tracing a line along her collarbone.
Polly glanced at her alarm clock. “It's eleven-forty, almost New Year. And I was worried I wouldn't find anyone to kiss me at midnight!”
He grinned even wider and leapt out of bed. “Come on.”
“Where?” Polly was reluctant to leave the cosy intimacy of her bedroom in case the spell broke.
“The village square. Some local bigwig puts on a big firework display and I don't want to miss it.”
Chapter Six
What had passed between them had been about more than meeting and reciprocating a physical need. The volume button on Drew’s life had been turned up again after lying dormant in mute. His surroundings were vivid, the air fresher and sounds sharper.
He inhaled the scent of wood smoke from next door, and the clean floral notes of Polly's perfume still filled his senses.
They dressed quickly.
Drew grabbed his jacket as they headed out, checking Tabitha couldn't escape first. “This must be a real contrast to London.” Drew gestured to the quiet, dimly lit lane leading to the village square. The shadow of Coombe Mountain was just visible once their eyes adjusted to the dark. The estate fields surrounded them but instead of worrying about which fences might need repairing and juggling budgets, he looked forward to the New Year with a lighter heart.
“Just a bit.” She grinned. “Not that I saw much of it. What with twenty-hour days and regular all-nighters, I didn't have much of a social life. And colleagues don't make the best friends. After trainee level, the rungs on the career ladder get narrower and narrower.”
“Sounds...horrific.”
“It wasn't all bad. I earned the money to buy Fox Cottage, after all.”
“Do you think you'll find what you're looking for in Coombethwaite?” He reached for her hand, interlacing his fingers through hers as they approached the crowded square.
“I hope so. I'm enjoying New Year's Eve more than I have done in a long time.”
“Me too,” he said lightly. He would tell her about Rosa another time. Tonight wasn't the night for sad stories and it was true, he was having a good time. “Now don't worry, I promise my lips are sealed about... earlier.”
“Thanks.” She squeezed his hand.
Groups of friends stood chatting together, clasping their pints. The rest of the crew were coming out of the pub as they approached.
“Hey Drew, did you rescue the old bat's cat?” A stout man in his thirties, face flushed with alcohol, but smiling amiably raised his arm in greeting. He peered closer. “If that's a cat you've got there, I've had more to drink than I thought.”
“Just as well you're not on call tonight, Pete. This is Polly, Enid's new neighbour, and you'd better behave yourselves. She's a solicitor!”
He glared at Ken, the fire brigade’s newest recruit, who was clearly checking her out. He raised an eyebrow, his body language hopefully shouting "Hand's off!" and pulled Polly closer to his side. She moulded into him in a most satisfactory way. He began to ache for her again.
The village clock chimed and a few streamers were pre-emptively released. Drew turned his face down to Polly's and kissed her. The twins wolf-whistled and, behind his back, he unobtrusively stuck two fingers up at them. When the fireworks started after the twelfth chime, it seemed the whole square was full of people embracing, wishing each other a Happy New Year. Goodwill vibrated on the air and Polly's eyes shone with happiness.
When the last rockets had been fired, no hitch this year thank goodness, he nodded his thanks to the groundsman who'd been responsible for making it all happen according to plan, and the members of the fire crew who'd also gone without a drink to oversee any mishaps. The crowd sang For Auld Lang Syne and he lowered his lips to Polly's ear so she could hear him over the noise.
“Never mind old acquaintances, I'm more concerned with new ones at the moment. What do you say we go home and improve our acquaintance?”
In response she tugged at his hand and they slipped unseen from the crowd down the lane that lead back to Fox Cottage. Flakes of snow filled the sky and drifted gently to the cobbles below. He felt for the bleeper on his belt and realised with relief he was no longer on call.
An awful lot could happen in one night. Rosa had been taken from him one night but tonight Polly had been given to him—an overdue Christmas present lodged in a chimney, just waiting for him to collect.
As if sensing his serious thoughts, Polly reached up and kissed him lightly on the mouth.
"Happy New Year," she whispered.
And somehow he thought that's what it might just turn out to be.
About the author:
Lorraine Wilson currently lives in Wiltshire but has travelled extensively and lived in four continents. From playing amidst Roman ruins as a child in Africa to riding a Sultan's racehorse in the Middle East as a teen she has many experiences to draw on for the stories she has been writing ever since she can remember. She loves reading flirty romances with witty heroines and irresistible heroes and writes both contemporary and historical romances. When she's not writing you'll find her listening to audiobooks while she sews or designs, usually with a terrier or two curled up on her feet.
Dear Reader
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