by Jessica Hart
Ed had recognised her verve and intelligence right from the start. He liked her frankness and her generosity and her wit. He thought she was attractive and stylish. But it was only this evening, sitting next to her through that interminable concert, that he had come to realise how incredibly sexy she was and, now that he had realised, he was finding it very difficult to think about anything else.
Had he really decided at that lunch that being friends would be enough?
Fool, Ed told himself dispassionately. Of course it wasn’t enough.
Perdita was taken by surprise when Ed stopped suddenly under a tree, and had gone a few steps out of the shelter of the umbrella before she realised that he wasn’t beside her and retraced her steps.
‘Is something the matter?’
‘Yes.’
‘What is it?’
‘I don’t think,’ said Ed slowly, ‘that I can go any further until I’ve kissed you.’
The last of the breath she had been so carefully hoarding leaked out of Perdita at that and she looked at him, her heart hammering so loudly she was sure that he must hear it. The smack of it against her chest wall was really quite painful and she swallowed carefully.
‘I…I’m not sure that’s a good idea,’ she managed with difficulty.
‘Nor am I,’ said Ed, ‘but let’s try and then we’ll know.’
One hand still holding the umbrella above their heads, he drew Perdita towards him with the other. It would have been easy for her to sidestep him, to pull back, but she didn’t. She couldn’t resist this deep, dark pull of attraction any longer, and she didn’t want to. Just one kiss, she told herself hazily-that wouldn’t be so bad, would it?
The touch of Ed’s lips sent a strange jolt of recognition through Perdita. It was as if they had kissed a thousand times before, as if she had always known this sense of utter rightness. It was like coming home, she thought dazedly, kissing him back, able to touch him and taste him at last, to slide her arms around him the way she had been thinking about all evening. He felt even better than she had imagined, so warm and solid and steady, his lips so sure on hers, sending honeyed fire spilling through her veins.
Ed let the umbrella fall unheeded to the ground so that he could use both hands to pull her closer, tighter, harder against him. Perdita kissed the way that she did everything else-with passion-but she was softer than he had imagined, softer and sweeter, and breathtakingly pliant in his arms. Her hair was like silk as he tangled his fingers in it, her perfume made his head reel and, as their kisses deepened and grew hungrier, more demanding, Ed felt himself losing his footing and he lifted his head, drawing a ragged breath as he fought for control.
He smoothed the hair back from Perdita’s face with a shaky smile, still holding her close in the circle of one arm. ‘Well, what do you think?’ he asked when he could speak.
‘Think?’ Perdita looked as dazed as he felt.
‘Was it a good idea or not?’
‘Probably not,’ she said unsteadily, but she was smiling as he drew her back against him and she met his kiss with her own, pulling his head down and spreading her hands over his back, sliding them under his jacket, murmuring with inarticulate pleasure.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I T FELT so good to hold him, to be held by him…Perdita gave herself up to the sheer pleasure of kissing and being kissed, and closed her mind to anything except touch and taste and feel and the slow burn of need. She had no idea how long they stood there under the tree, drizzle dripping through the leaves on to their heads, and she didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything as long as he would go on kissing her like this.
And then consciousness returned reluctantly to make her aware that Ed had tensed and was lifting his head in spite of her instinctive mumble of protest. She tightened her hands against his withdrawal, but even as she did she heard the unmistakable ring of a mobile phone.
‘I’m sorry,’ Ed said with something close to despair as he fished it out of his jacket pocket. ‘I’m going to have to see if it’s one of the kids.’
Numbly, Perdita let her hands drop as he checked to see who the call was from. ‘What is it, Cassie?’ he barked into the phone.
Perdita’s blood was pounding through her body, making her feel light-headed and slightly unsteady on her feet. It was too much of a shock. One moment she had been safe and warm in his arms, the next she was hugging herself against the cold and the damp, listening to Ed’s one-sided conversation.
‘No…no, Cassie…because I don’t know any of these people yet…and because you’re only fifteen…I don’t care, that’s the way it is…You’re to go home…What’s wrong with your legs?…Well, get a taxi…’ Cassie’s voice squawked in his ear and he sighed. ‘Where are you?’ he asked, resigned. ‘All right, wait there. I’ll come and get you.’
Switching off the phone, he turned back to Perdita, a muscle beating in his jaw. ‘I’m sorry about that.’ He raked his fingers through his hair in a gesture of frustration. ‘I’m going to have to go. Cassie’s with some friends who are allegedly planning to go off to some party in a place she doesn’t know hosted by people she’s never met, and she wanted to know if she could go too. She hasn’t got any money or a coat and it’s raining, and I don’t want her walking back on her own…’
He sighed again. ‘She was supposed to be staying at home with Tom and Lauren,’ he said with an edge as he bent to pick up the discarded umbrella. ‘I’m really sorry about this, Perdita,’ he said again. ‘This wasn’t how I wanted this evening to end.’
Perdita already had a bright smile in place. ‘Don’t worry about it,’ she said. ‘It doesn’t matter. I understand.’
And she did understand, that was the trouble. She had been through this so many times with Nick. His children had been younger, but they had had to come first too. Of course they did. How could Perdita have argued against that?
She made herself remember that time with Nick as she lay in bed that night, her body still raging at the abrupt way those kisses with Ed had ended. Time and again, she had made allowances for Nick’s preoccupation with his children. Plans had been changed at the last minute, dates interrupted, holidays cancelled as Nick had danced to his ex-wife’s tune.
At least Ed didn’t have an ex in the background, but it would be just the same. Perdita knew from Millie and other friends how worrying and all-consuming teenagers could be. Of course Ed had to drop everything to go and pick up his fifteen-year-old daughter. Of course he needed to make his children his priority.
Of course Perdita would have to accept it. She would have to be the one who always said, Don’t worry. It doesn’t matter. I’m fine. I understand.
But in the end, with Nick, she hadn’t been able to accept it any longer. Was it too much to expect that, just occasionally, she could have come first? That he would make time for her, rather than taking it for granted that she would fit in around him and the children? That he would make her feel loved and wanted and not just an extra pressure for him to deal with?
Apparently it had been. Pushed to the limit, Perdita had steeled herself to issue an ultimatum. Give me the attention I deserve or I leave. And Nick had chosen to let her go.
It was just as well Ed’s phone had rung when it did, she told herself. Otherwise it would have been too late. They would have come back to the flat, they would have made love, and that would have been it. It would have been impossible to pretend that he didn’t really mean anything to her then. And that would have been a terrible mistake.
No! cried her body, strumming with frustration. No, it wouldn’t. It would have been worth it!
But Perdita’s head knew better.
So she was ready when Ed came to find her in her office on Monday. He had rung several times on Sunday but she wouldn’t answer the phone and made sure that she went out with Rick to get her out of temptation’s way that evening.
‘About the other night…’ he began, but Perdita interrupted him before he could go any further.
‘It’s fine, Ed. There’s no need to explain anything. I understand perfectly.’
Ed was daunted by her bright manner. It was hard to believe that this brittle woman was the same one who had been so soft and warm and responsive on Saturday evening. He had been reeling ever since. There was normally such a refreshing astringency about Perdita and he had been totally unprepared for how sweet she had been, and his body was still aching with frustration
If only Cassie hadn’t rung when she had…Ed could cheerfully have throttled his daughter when he’d picked her up. He hadn’t, of course, but he had been in an extremely bad mood, to which Cassie had taken exception, and they had argued all the way home, which was not the way he had hoped to end the evening.
Now he couldn’t stop thinking about Perdita. The memory of her and that startling sweetness was like fire in his blood, and he had longed to see her again. He had been hoping that he could have seen her yesterday, but she had obviously been out all day and he had found himself impatient and nervous as a teenager at the prospect of seeing her today.
Talking in her office wasn’t ideal, but surely they were close enough now for that not to matter? Something about her smile, though, was making him uneasy.
‘I thought…I hoped…that we could try again this evening,’ he said as he came into her office and closed the door behind him. ‘Cassie’s under strict orders to stay home tonight! Have you got time for a drink, at least?’
‘I don’t think so, Ed.’ Perdita had got to her feet when he’d appeared and now she bent over her desk to straighten some papers. The glossy hair swung down, hiding her face. ‘I thought about it yesterday and I think it’s better if we stick to a professional relationship.’
‘You don’t think it’s a bit late for that?’
When Perdita lifted her head, he could see that her cheeks were tinged with colour. ‘I’m sure we can manage to forget Saturday night,’ she said with some difficulty.
‘I’m not sure I’m going to be able to forget it,’ Ed said honestly.
Perdita swallowed and hugged her arms together the way she did when she was nervous, and it struck Ed how very familiar she was to him already.
‘I don’t think mixing business with pleasure is a good idea,’ she said uncomfortably, and he thrust his hands into his pockets, trying not to get angry. She was slipping away from him, and there didn’t seem to be anything he could do about it.
‘It felt like a very good idea on Saturday night,’ he reminded her, knowing that he was being unfair but unable to help himself. ‘Or are you going to pretend that you didn’t enjoy it?’
His voice was harsh and the colour in Perdita’s cheeks deepened painfully, but she met his eyes steadily enough.
‘No, I’m not going to pretend that, but I do regret it now. I would rather we were just friends.’
‘I’ve got enough friends,’ said Ed bitterly. ‘I don’t want you as a friend. I want you as…’
‘As what, Ed?’
He didn’t answer immediately. Unable to stand still, he went over to the window and looked out, his back to Perdita, his shoulders rigid. ‘You’re the first woman I’ve wanted since Sue died,’ he told her without looking at her. ‘I think…I thought…that we could have something good together.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Perdita said quietly. ‘I just don’t think it could work. Our lives are too different.’
‘Are they?’
‘You know they are. You’ve got three children who demand all your attention.’
‘Not all of it,’ he protested.
‘Almost all of it. When they’ve had the attention they need, and work has the attention it needs, how much would be left for me? Enough for a brief affair, maybe,’ she said, answering her own question, ‘or an occasional fling. I know, because I’ve been there before,’ she said. ‘I don’t want that again. I promised myself that if I have another relationship, it’ll be a proper one. I deserve more than being someone who just gets squeezed in every now and then between other commitments.’
‘I see.’ Ed turned from the window, bitterly disappointed. It had felt so good the other night, so right, that he couldn’t believe that she was pushing him away.
But he couldn’t argue with her. He was hardly going to propose marriage after one kiss, if that was what she wanted, he thought, disappointment feeding an anger that was so much easier to deal with than hurt. He would have to know her a lot better before he could be certain that she would the right stepmother for his kids, even if he was sure that she was right for him.
‘Well, there’s not much I can say, is there?’ he said. ‘Except I’m sorry. But of course I will respect your decision. You don’t need to worry about me hassling you to change your mind.’
That ought to make her feel better, oughtn’t it? Perdita thought. So why did she feel so awful?
‘I hope it won’t make it difficult working together,’ she said awkwardly.
A glimmer of a smile lightened Ed’s face. ‘Of course not,’ he said. ‘We’re both adults, Perdita. We should be capable of keeping our personal and professional lives separate.’
Easy to say, Perdita thought as the days passed. Doing it was another matter. It was very hard when her heart leapt at the mere mention of Ed’s name in a meeting, when the sound of his voice set her heart hammering and a mere glimpse of him walking down the corridor was enough to make her hollow with desire.
And it wasn’t just at work that she had to be on her guard. There was always the chance that she would bump into him when she visited her mother. She never did, but was constantly on edge in case he appeared.
Every week, she turned up dutifully at the garden project. It made her feel better to know that her colleagues were also required to contribute to the community in some way and, when she heard about some of the projects the others were involved in, Perdita couldn’t help thinking that she was better off where she was. She and Tom cleared and dug and dug some more and, although she grumbled as a matter of form, she didn’t mind it nearly as much as she said she did. The more often she met Grace, the more she liked her, and it was a chance to catch up with Millie too, who had thrown herself into her new job with gusto.
There was something surprisingly satisfying about hard physical labour too. Perdita dug the heavy clay soil until her back ached, but in lots of ways it was a welcome respite from thinking about Ed or worrying about her mother.
Being with Tom was bittersweet, a constant reminder of Ed, but the closest she could get to him too. Tom was a restful person to work with. He was quiet, uncommunicative even, and the exact opposite of Perdita in many ways, but they made a good team. He might be sullen with his father or at college, but never with Perdita, who liked his quiet sense of humour and the sense of self-containment obviously inherited from his father. If he was still guilty of a “bad attitude” she at least could see no evidence of it.
After the first time, when Ed had picked him up, Tom had to make his own way home from the project and, as she was usually going to see her mother anyway, Perdita would give him a lift. She was never sure if she longed to see Ed or dreaded bumping into him on these occasions. Tom was frustratingly taciturn about life at home so Perdita gleaned little from him, although he did volunteer once that Ed had been in a filthy mood ‘for weeks now’.
It seemed that she wasn’t the only one suffering then. Again and again, Perdita told herself that she had done the right thing, but she couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss down by the river. She replayed it endlessly in her head and even when she managed to think about something else, like work, it was always there, simmering at the edge of her consciousness, ready to flare up into vivid memory at the slightest provocation: the sound of rain on an umbrella, the smell of the river, the sight of Ed’s name on a report. Perdita was torn between wishing that she could rewind time to before Cassie’s call and congratulating herself on her narrow escape.
‘I just wish that I could forget it,’ she sighed to Millie one evening over a
bottle of wine. ‘All I want is to not think about it any more.’
She should have been more careful what she wished for, Perdita thought wearily a few days later. Her mother caught an infection that proved stubbornly resistant to antibiotics and she grew alarmingly weak. For the next fortnight, Perdita had no time to think about Ed as she dealt with doctors and ferried her mother to and from hospital for tests.
It was soon clear even to Helen that she couldn’t manage on her own while she was unwell, and it was a mark of how ill she felt that Perdita finally persuaded her to accept some help. A carer came in three times a day for half an hour, for which Perdita was enormously grateful, but she still went round first thing in the morning to get her mother out of bed and help her to get dressed. She would try and coax her to eat a little breakfast, and then drive to the office, but it was difficult to concentrate on work and everything seemed to take twice as long as normal.
After work, she went back to check on her mother and spend most of the evening with her before she went home. Perdita felt horribly guilty about not moving in permanently, but she held back from letting out or selling her flat. Some days Helen seemed to be getting better, and Perdita clung to the thought that she could somehow get her old life back eventually.
The tests provided inconclusive and the doctors suggested in the end that her mother was simply at an age when it took longer to bounce back from an infection. Perdita held on to the hope that this was just a temporary situation and made herself concentrate on the signs that Helen was indeed getting stronger. When those were few and far between, though, she would spend the night at her mother’s house, sleeping in her old room, and those were the times she found hardest.
It wasn’t that she didn’t love her mother, but she hated living with her. Their personalities had clashed at the best of times. She was too impatient to be a good nurse, Helen James too old and set in her ways to be a good mother any more. Perdita hated the fact that she was old and ill and resented her for her stubbornness. Too often she would end up snapping at her mother, and then spend the rest of the day feeling guilty.
