Dreams of a Little Cornish Cottage

by Nancy Barone

  To be here, in the arms of this man, in this very moment when the rest of my world was in question, would definitely tip the scales.

  ‘Anyway,’ I said with fake worldliness, twirling my now empty mug as I got up to put some safe distance between us. ‘It’s not like I need the real experience. I would know what to write.’

  ‘I’m sure you would. But don’t they say to write from experience? How would you know how to write about the thrill of a new romance if you don’t try it?’

  Couldn’t argue with that one, could I now? ‘Yes, well, the most romantic moment I had was when Neil packed his bags,’ I said.

  Connor threw his head back and laughed. Only it wasn’t exactly funny. My arse was on the line.

  ‘So that’s it then? If you have a toy boy you can keep your job?’

  ‘Don’t forget the black-tie benefit. It’s this Friday.’

  He chuckled. ‘Okay. Anything to help you, Nat. It is in London, right? I’ll drive us.’

  ‘Thank you, Connor. But we can take the train.’

  ‘Nat,’ he said. ‘I’m happy to drive.’

  I shrugged. ‘Okay, then. Thanks.’

  ‘No trouble at all,’ he said in his charming Irish lilt.

  This was it. Now I had to tell him about the hotel room. And the one bed in that hotel room. But how? And, moreover, how could I possibly justify making him sleep on the floor after what he was doing for me? He was taking me all the way in his own car, pretending to be my toy boy, as if that wasn’t humiliating enough, and now he even had to sleep on the floor? No, I couldn’t allow that. I wondered if I still had those padded pyjamas I’d bought in my teens for when I’d gone camping that one time. I hoped that the hotel had very thick carpeting.

  ‘Uhm, actually, there is one more thing…’ I faltered.

  ‘Shoot.’

  ‘We’re going to have to share a room.’

  His eyebrows shot up and for the life of me I couldn’t tell if it was amusement or annoyance. An embarrassed silence ensued, and I began to babble to cover it up.

  ‘I already checked for another room, but they’re fully booked. Maybe I could book you at another hotel nearby?’

  He shook his head and raked a hand through his dark curls. ‘No, Nat – how would it look to all your friends if I went and slept in another hotel?’

  I thought about it. ‘Not too good, I guess.’

  ‘So we’ll go ahead with the plan. No problem.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ I checked. ‘I mean, one thing is hearing a rumour, and another is feeding it with evidence.’

  He shrugged. ‘It’s important to you. This little fib would let you keep your job. And don’t worry about anything else for now.’

  As much as I was dying to stick my nose in his business and ask what his girlfriend thought, I nodded and let go of it.

  ‘Okay. Thank you.’

  ‘No worries.’ He clapped his hands together resolutely, taking a deep breath as if to give himself courage before throwing himself into the fire. I didn’t know whether to be offended or grateful. ‘Right, so,’ he said. ‘This Friday?’

  I nodded. Date night. Even I could see the connection. ‘Have you got a suit? I can get you one in Truro tomorrow.’

  He stood up. ‘Hold it there, Nellie. I may be pretending to be your toy boy, but you’re not buying me a suit.’

  ‘Are – are you sure? I mean, you wouldn’t need one if it weren’t for this, so—’

  ‘Are you insinuating I don’t have a social life?’ he asked, and I suddenly realised I was the village idiot. Of course he did. I wondered how he was going to juggle us both, even if I was only the pretend lover.

  He stood up and clapped his hands again. ‘Right, then. Get your best dress pressed, Nellie. It looks like your research is about to begin.’

  12

  Only You

  Friday night, the night of the black-tie benefit, and I was an utter, complete mess. Everything was wrong – my hair, my make-up. Even my dress, which had always suited me, now seemed frumpy. The last time I’d worn it I had felt classy and composed. And now, who did I think I was fooling in a spaghetti-strapped gown? Good thing I had the shawl to make me look more staid.

  Standing by what Maggie and Octavia had said, word had already got out that I was bringing my toy boy, and I envisaged curious eyes ready to dissect me. Not because I looked bad per se, but because they’d be measuring me up against Connor, who would look good in a fig leaf, judging by the rare but precious glimpses I’d had of various parts of his body, from the washboard tummy to the lean hips that his low jeans had never even tried to disguise.

  ‘Nat?’ Connor called from the downstairs landing as I was putting on my earrings. ‘You ready?’

  ‘Yup, coming,’ I called back as I grabbed my wrap and my clutch and opened my bedroom door, my heart in my mouth. God, did I feel like a fraud or what?

  I almost forgot my overnight bag. I had brought two kinds of nightwear, depending on the turn the evening would take. One was a T-shirt and an old pair of pyjama bottoms and the other was… well, let’s say classy, even if the intentions behind it were not very subtle. How deluded was I, to even remotely think I had a cat in hell’s chance at a night, let alone a relationship with Connor, when there was someone else in the picture. I should have had my head examined by Dr Simpson, too.

  Clueless of how I was going to make it through the evening without worrying myself sick, I threw myself down the stairs, all the while trying to look poised and calm.

  And there he was, standing in a black suit and tie, so elegant I had hardly recognised him, twirling his car keys around his index finger. His black curls were tied back in a sleek man bun, and the hint of stubble gave him a sexy edge. As if he needed it. Next to him, I’d look like a bloody matron. So I balled up my wrap and shoved it into my bag. Was it too late to call the whole thing off?

  ‘Wow,’ he exhaled as I wobbled down the stairs, feeling for all the world like Scarlett O’Hara in one of her numbers and hanging on for dear life lest I tripped and landed in a heap at Connor’s shiny leather feet. ‘You look… just… wow.’

  And despite myself, I giggled at the cheek of him. The dashing, dapper gentleman taking out his older lady-friend (who was a schoolgirl at heart) poking her head out for a night on the town.

  ‘You don’t look half bad yourself,’ I said as he gave me his arm. Actually, he looked like sex on a stick. ‘And by the way, you don’t have to start now,’ I lied, waves of guilt washing over me.

  ‘Start what now? In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m naturally gallant,’ he said in mock hurt. Ah, that may have been true, but the question was, could we pull this off tonight?

  ‘And you, Natalia Amore, if you don’t mind my saying, are very, very, uhm, beautiful. Hey, what’s that worried look?’ Connor asked, his fingers stealing to his chin. ‘Do you not approve? Should I have had a shave?’

  ‘No, it’s not that. I just…’ I looked at him helplessly and he grinned.

  ‘I know you. You’re feeling guilty. But don’t. Because tonight, we are a couple, and we will dazzle their pants off while you parlay yourself into your dream contract.’

  ‘But won’t you get bored listening to that stuff all night?’

  ‘With you? Please.’

  I nodded. He was already in toy boy mode. ‘Has the agency sent the sitter yet?’

  ‘Bang on time, too,’ he answered as a younger version of Emma Thompson sauntered in, caught sight of us and smiled. ‘You look lovely.’ Then she eyed Connor. ‘Both of you. Have a good time.’

  She seemed all right to me, of course, but I still couldn’t bring myself to leave everyone. Connor took my hand. ‘We’re going to be late if we don’t leave now, Nat. The girls are already in bed, so it’s a no-brainer.’

  ‘And is she okay with Mum?’ I whispered as he turned me towards the door.

  ‘Nat – she’s a trained carer. Let’s go already.’

  ‘Right. Let’s go.’

>   We descended the outside steps and walked to his Jeep where he opened the door for me to climb in. When he shut the door, he remained at my window, chin resting on his forearms. Gosh, he really should be in pictures.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ I asked. ‘Is my lipstick smudged or something?’

  He laughed. ‘Not that you need any of that crap, but you do look great. So just enjoy yourself and you’ll smash it.’

  I smoothed my updo back and nodded as my heart kept jack-hammering its way into my throat. ‘Okay, let’s do it.’ We had a long drive ahead of us. It would have been so much easier to just change at the hotel, but I really wanted to get this over with. Plus, Connor and myself alone in a hotel room before a party was not a good idea.

  ‘You sure you’re all right?’

  ‘I’m fine. Thank you.’

  But he was still there, studying me. I looked into his eyes and for a moment I swear I thought he was going to kiss me. But then he broke the spell and pulled away to round the car and get in.

  To say I was nervous would be like telling someone on death row that it might hurt a bit. What if someone started asking us questions? I hadn’t thought of that. Oh God, I never was a good liar.

  Connor backed out of the drive and shifted into first gear and turned to me. ‘So, let’s get our stories straight,’ he said as if he’d read my mind. ‘How long have we known each other?’

  ‘Well, let’s say we were friends first, for about two years.’

  ‘Okay, so where did we meet?’

  I thought about it. What was one of my favourite places? ‘At Sainsbury’s in Truro – the cakes section. We kept bumping into each other there.’

  ‘And then one day I just said something to you about sharing one over a coffee in your village?’ he suggested. What a smooth operator.

  ‘Perfect. So we met up in the village a few months ago and have been together since.’

  ‘Okay,’ he agreed. ‘How serious are we?’

  ‘What? Oh.’

  He chuckled as he slid me an amused glance. ‘You haven’t really thought this out, have you, Nat?’

  I shrugged. ‘I didn’t think you’d say yes, to be honest.’

  ‘Now why wouldn’t I? Okay, so we’re serious enough to be living together.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Have I told you that I love you?’

  I baulked. ‘What?’

  ‘You’re right. It’s none of their business, but I suppose your closest friends will ask. So what will you say?’

  ‘I don’t know. It depends on how it’s going.’

  He rounded a bend and looked at me.

  ‘You mean you want to see if we’re credible enough. Well, why wouldn’t we be? You’re a gorgeous woman; I’m a man with excellent taste.’

  ‘Ha. Thanks.’

  He grinned. ‘It’s the truth. You will dazzle everyone, including Octavia Hounslow.’

  ‘You don’t know Octavia Hounslow. Nothing impresses her.’

  ‘You will, you’ll see,’ he assured me, patting my hands resting in my lap, his thumb (accidentally?) grazing my upper thigh, and I almost jumped from the electric charge searing through me.

  *

  If I was waiting for the doors of the ballroom to open and to be announced like they do at high society parties, I was wrong. We were let into a huge hall festooned with white lilies and dazzling crystal chandeliers descending as if from the heavens above. Everywhere I turned, tuxes and black or white haute couture shimmered before me. Maggie would’ve recognised every single label, whereas I only recognised the faces. Thirteen years in the industry had given me that much.

  Connor swallowed visibly, pulling at his bow tie as if it was choking him to death. Then he exhaled and turned to me, offering his arm. ‘Shall we?’

  I had to hand it to him. He was doing this just to please me. I nodded, my legs rubbery. But as I swept in on his arm, looking for Octavia, we were met with quite a few curious glances from friends, colleagues and members of rival publications, some of whom had still expected to see Neil at my side as he had been for the past thirteen years.

  And I knew that it was not just because Connor was a new face. He was the face every woman wanted to wake up next to, and I knew it was true because every woman in the room – and some men – suddenly turned to us, eyes shifting as they summed us up, then quickly, furtively, or so they thought, turned back to their conversation partners with an urgency to know, exactly who that was next to Natalia Amore. What was his name, where did he come from exactly and was he my man or an escort? The answer was halfway in between, I guess, although I hadn’t paid Connor to be here.

  ‘And here she is, the belle of the ball…’ a shrill call reached us.

  I whirled around, recognising her voice. Octavia The Hound, looking for all the world like a white popsicle stick – flavourless and gelid – in a frosty white dress so tight it looked like it had been poured onto her and solidified.

  I swallowed. ‘Hello, Octavia. Please meet Connor Wright. Connor, this is Octavia Hounslow, editor-in-chief of Lady magazine.’

  ‘Her boss,’ The Hound emphasised as she stretched out a slim hand for him to take. ‘It’s lovely to meet you, Connor,’ she murmured, unable to take her eyes off him.

  ‘It’s my pleasure, Ms Hounslow,’ he answered amiably.

  ‘So – how’s tricks?’ she asked me, still watching him.

  I nodded. ‘Good, thank you. I’ve already started on my article and hope to—’

  ‘Excellent, excellent,’ she said. ‘Must circulate. Connor, maybe you can save me a dance for later?’

  If Connor was surprised, he handled it with panache. ‘Oh, you’ll have to ask Natalia. I’m hers.’

  ‘Oh? Oh!’ I exclaimed. ‘No, no, by all means.’

  Octavia slid him a smile so slimy you could have slipped on it. ‘I’ll come back for you then,’ she assured him. And then she turned to me. ‘Nat, keep up the good work.’ And before I could even open my mouth, she was off into the crowd, weaving in and out like the rattlesnake that she was.

  ‘That went well,’ he said through a false smile, so obviously struggling not to pull at his collar. If I knew him, he’d have given the earth to be in our garden in his cut-offs right now. So would I, truth be told.

  ‘Well, if she loves you, we’re done here,’ I said. Not that I cared about fooling anyone else, assuming I could.

  ‘Not just yet,’ he said, wrapping an arm around the back of my waist.

  When I looked up at him in question, he simply grinned. ‘You can’t be in a posh place like this without having a dance.’ And with that, he twirled me out onto the dance floor, leading like a pro, his stance elegant. My, he certainly had risen to the occasion.

  ‘Where did you learn to do this?’ I asked in amazement. ‘I didn’t know you could dance!’

  ‘Blame my mother,’ he said. ‘She was so obsessed we all had to take lessons while growing up.’

  ‘Gardening, building fences, tree houses, surfing, dancing – what else can you do?’ I asked in awe as he swung me to and fro. ‘I bet you can play an instrument.’

  He shrugged. ‘I strum the guitar every now and then – we had a band, years ago. Used to play at Temple Bar.’

  ‘Really? That’s amazing!’

  He laughed. ‘What’s amazing is that I haven’t stepped on your toes!’

  ‘There’s always hope,’ I said, giggling.

  He really was the perfect charmer – gallant, attentive, humorous and worldly.

  On the final notes of the song, Connor dipped me, his strong arm supporting my slanted body, his beautiful face inches from my own. I gasped at the sudden turn of events, and his closeness. His lashes almost swept mine, his eyes were seriously dark, or darkly serious – I still can’t decide which – searching, delving deep into mine. And his mouth looked utterly delicious.

  Blame the booze, blame the peer pressure, blame whomever you want, but before I could understand what I was doing, and utterly unable
to stop myself, I took his face in my hands and bloody kissed him smack on the mouth with everything that was inside me – my desires, my urgency, my fears.

  It lasted forever, but not long enough. It was a kiss that had everything in it. Attraction, passion, kindness, humour, affection. It was naughty and intimate. How did I manage to put all that into one kiss? And how did it wipe me out in a few seconds?

  Was this me, falling even deeper into my case of insta-love? I had already been hanging on a wing and a prayer, trying to resist my wild attraction to him, but the evening had left me absolutely shell-less. All of my defences and good resolutions to behave myself and try not to fall for him hook, line and sinker had gone down the drain.

  ‘Nat…?’ he whispered, his eyes searching mine as he pulled away slightly. Was that surprise I read on his face? Surprise that I’d kissed him, or, worse, surprise that I’d kissed him? Now what was I going to do?

  As my mind was reeling, I became aware of a sudden buzzing sound – the crowd cheering us on. Oh my God, what had I done? I had given everyone what they wanted, and what I had been dreaming of for weeks now, but was it also what Connor wanted, or had I embarrassed him, or worse, offended him?

  You’d think it would be easy to tell at this point, but he stiffened and brought me back up to a standing position as the applause filled my ears. How the hell had I got myself into being the centre of attraction? I shied away from attention normally, but tonight, knowing that my job was on the line, I had given it my all. Only I’d forgotten to warn Connor. I’d forgotten to warn myself as well.

  *

  The rest of the evening was spent circling and chatting, Connor still by my side, still pulling at his collar and fidgeting even more than before. As the minutes went by, he became more and more uneasy and agitated, bouncing on the balls of his feet as if ready to run away. It was as clear as the chandeliers hanging above us that he wanted to retire to the hotel room. But whether he wanted to retire with me was extremely doubtful.