He reached across and touched her hair briefly. ‘It had a sort of strange unreality about it, this evening. You should have been Judy. That’s the sort of thing we should have done together, but she never would.’
‘What, not even before?’
‘No.’ His voice wasn’t bitter, just accepting. ‘She hardly did anything for the kids. It was too much effort—she wouldn’t even read them a bedtime story.’
Tricia found that terribly sad. ‘Poor woman,’ she murmured. ‘She missed out on a lot.’
Rhys chuckled. ‘I doubt if she’d agree with you. She’s having a whale of a time now without us all.’
Cautiously, unsure how he would react, she asked softly, ‘Would you have married her if she hadn’t been pregnant?’
His head turned sharply, his eyes spearing her in the gloom. ‘Who told you that?’
Oops. ‘Linsey.’
He nodded. ‘Figures. She loves to make everything right. It’s one of her strengths, if you can cope with it.’
Again, he didn’t sound bitter, just accepting. Fatalistic.
‘Well?’ Tricia prodded, drawing him back to Judy. ‘Would you have married her?’
‘No is the simple answer,’ he said finally. ‘I’ve always held that any two people should, with enough commitment on both sides, be able to make a go of a relationship. It’s never easy—marriage is always a minefield, no matter how devoted you are to each other. I was wrong, though, about me and Judy. We didn’t stand a prayer, because Judy doesn’t have commitment to anything but the pursuit of her own pleasure. Once she got bored with me—well, that was it, really. She started to look elsewhere for her entertainment.’
‘Were you ever tempted?’
‘To have an affair?’ He sounded shocked. ‘Lord, no. I was married. In my book married people sleep with their own husbands and wives, not other people’s. No, Tricia, I was never tempted. Just bitter and lonely and betrayed.’
She was silent for a moment, then reached out her hand and touched his arm.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said softly.
His arm stiffened. ‘Why should you be? It was hardly your fault.’
She withdrew her hand. ‘Lots of things aren’t my fault. That doesn’t mean I’m not sorry about them.’
He sighed, stabbing his hands through his hair. ‘I didn’t mean to bite your head off. It just still feels a bit raw, that’s all. It wouldn’t be so bad if she’d been discreet, but bringing them back here—that’s just so tacky.’
She looked around, at the house with its cheerful lights shining, the garden with lovely trees and shrubs and a nice safe lawn for the children to play on—it was a real home, and Judy had spoilt it for him.
‘Do you ever feel like moving?’
He laughed—a hollow, sad sound. ‘Sometimes. Then I tell myself the children have had enough upheaval and that they need some continuity in their lives. They don’t ever see her, so this is all they have of her—the home we once shared. I can’t move, even if I want to, though. Where to? My neighbours are wonderful—I couldn’t have coped without them—and it’s handy for the practice, for the children’s school, for the child-minder—so many things.’
He sighed again. ‘I can’t move, so I’ve done the other thing and changed the house—decorated, changed some of the furniture, that sort of thing. Perhaps I’ll refit the kitchen and bathrooms one day.’
‘And will you ever be happy here?’
His laugh was heart-wrenching. ‘As happy as I’ll be anywhere, Tricia. What’s happiness? A momentary disillusion, a brief time out from life’s grinding realities. I don’t think anything’s going to make me happy, Tricia. I’m too much of a realist.’
‘Or a pessimist.’
‘You’re one of those happy-ever-after types, aren’t you?’ he asked, and she was shocked by the bitterness that showed now in his voice. ‘Roses round the door and all that baloney.’
‘Linsey and Matthew have got roses round the door.’
‘And long may it last,’ he said drily.
‘Are you jealous?’
‘Me?’ He laughed. ‘You have to be kidding. I wouldn’t go through that again for anyone. What’s the point? It can’t work. They’re living in a fool’s paradise. They’ll wake up soon and realise it was all a dream.’
‘I hope not.’
‘Oh, so do I, but I know it’ll happen. It always does.’
She shook her head. ‘Not always. My parents are still together after thirty years.’
‘My parents are still together after nearly forty, but I think it’s only so they’ve got someone to fight with.’
‘Are you sure? Maybe they’ve got something you don’t know about.’
He grunted. ‘Like hope?’
She reached out to him again. ‘Someone has to keep the world turning, Rhys. If we all went to bed thinking there wouldn’t be a tomorrow, maybe there wouldn’t be.’
He snorted softly. ‘Would that be such a tragedy?’
‘Yes!’ she said vehemently. Then again, softer, ‘Yes, it would. There’s so much out there to do, to explore. So much fun to have.’ She paused. ‘So much love to give.’
He turned to her, reaching out in the stillness to cup her chin. His fingers were gentle, his thumb idly caressing the skin of her jaw. ‘You’re so naïve I wonder you’ve survived this long,’ he murmured. ‘Life’s a bitch, and then you die—didn’t you know that?’
Her eyes filled, welling over and splashing his hand. ‘Oh, Rhys,’ she whispered. ‘Don’t be so sad. You’ve got so much to live for—your children, for a start.’
‘For a start and for a finish. Don’t cry for me, Tricia. I’ll survive. I may not be bounding with joie de vivre but I’m still here.’
His thumb stroked her cheek, brushing away the tears, and then he drew her into his arms and kissed her.
For a moment she was still as his lips brushed hers lightly then moved on, drifting over her skin. Then she felt the soft stroke of his tongue tasting her tears, and with a little cry she turned her mouth to his, opening to him as he thrust deeply inside.
One big hand cupped her head, steadying her as his mouth plundered hers; the other was braced against her spine, lifting her against him so she could feel the hard plane of his chest against her aching breasts.
Her hands found his shoulders—broad, powerful, fascinating to her hungry senses—then slid up, her fingers threading through the soft, silky strands of his hair, savouring the wonderful texture.
There were other textures too—the firm, full pressure of his lips, the moist slide of his tongue over hers, the sharp, clean edge of his teeth—all of it added to the sensual tapestry of his kiss. His mouth devoured hers, his tongue ravaging the soft, secret places as if he was learning her by heart, and she grew bolder then, tasting him, exploring his mouth too, learning him.
One of her hands slid down to lie against his chest, and beneath her palm she could feel the savage pounding of his heart under his ribs. She lowered her arm, untucking his T-shirt and slipping her hand inside, exploring the strong column of his spine, the powerful muscles that bracketed it and supported his big frame; then, unable to resist, she slid her hand round his ribs and up his chest.
So soft! The curls were thick and dense but so, so soft, like down against her fingers. She threaded her fingers through the curls, working them down to the hot, damp skin that bounded with his pulse.
A low, guttural groan was dredged from deep inside him and she felt his palm against her breast, chafing gently against the aching nipple.
Touch me! she wanted to cry. Touch me, all of me; take me; make me yours.
As if he’d heard her, his hand worked under her T-shirt and fumbled with the catch on her bra. Finally it gave and her breasts spilled out into his hand, dragging another groan from his heaving chest.
‘Dear God, Tricia, I want you,’ he whispered, his voice low, his mouth against her ear. His tongue teased the lobe, then he suckled at it.
He
r heart slammed in her throat. How could an ear be so erogenous? His mouth moved on, his lips whispering over her skin, then he bent his head, pushed up her T-shirt and she felt the hot, moist cavern of his mouth capture her breast.
‘Rhys!’ she gasped, and threaded her fingers through his hair to pull him away so she could escape the sensual overload. Her body betrayed her, though, her hands simply steadying him, holding him closer as he suckled first from one then the other.
When he finally lifted his head she was trembling from head to foot, almost incoherent with need. ‘Please,’ she whimpered. ‘Rhys, please...’
In the darkness, she caught the glitter of his eyes. ‘Not here—not now,’ he said, and his voice was tight, raw with passion.
‘When?’ she urged, her voice no longer under her control. ‘When?’
‘Tomorrow—I’ll get a babysitter—Oh, damn.’
He stiffened, and she felt him withdrawing. ‘What? Damn what?’
‘I’m on duty for the weekend.’
‘Oh.’
Sanity returned slowly but surely. Rhys released her and Tricia eased away, fumbling with the catch on her bra. It was front-fastening, and after a moment Rhys moved her hands aside and did it for her. Then he brushed his knuckles over the soft swell above the lace and leant his head against hers with a sigh, smoothing her T-shirt down.
‘I’m sorry,’ he murmured gruffly. ‘I didn’t really mean that to happen. It just seemed...’
‘Right?’ she offered.
‘Yes.’ His arms slid round her, easing her against his chest, and she could feel the pounding of his heart gradually slow and steady. ‘Oh, Tricia—I haven’t felt like this in years—not since I was a randy adolescent.’
She chuckled. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this before.’
He squeezed her, then let her go and stood up. ‘You’d better make tracks before I change my mind and ravish you on the grass,’ he said with a trace of laughter in his voice.
‘Yes, I think I better had.’
She stood up and followed him in, gathering her bag and keys from the kitchen table. The room was still in chaos, but she didn’t dare offer to help sort it out. Anyway, clearly he wanted her to leave. She made for the door but he beat her to it, opening it and walking her to her car.
He held her door for her. ‘Thanks again for tonight—all of it.’
She felt her colour rise. ‘You’re welcome,’ she told him, and meant it. He was welcome, to all of it, even that crazy, mind-numbing kiss she couldn’t regret. She slid behind the wheel and wound down her window to say goodnight, but he bent over and leant on the sill. One hand cupped the back of her head, his fingers threading through her hair, massaging her scalp gently. ‘When are you free?’ he asked softly.
Her heart crashed and hiccuped. Free? She’d thought he was backing off! ‘Free?’ she breathed.
‘Free. We have unfinished business, Tricia,’ he reminded her. His voice was rough, husky, and she swallowed.
‘Monday?’ she suggested blindly.
He shook his head. ‘I’ll be shattered, and the kids won’t have seen me all weekend. Tuesday?’
‘I’m on duty at the hospital.’
‘Wednesday?’
She hesitated. Suddenly it all seemed so coldblooded.
‘Is there a problem?’ he asked softly.
‘No,’ she said at last. ‘No problem. Come for supper.’
‘OK, but late. I have to put the children to bed first and make sure they’re settled. Eight-thirty?’
She swallowed again. ‘Fine.’
He brushed her lips with his, then straightened. ‘See you tomorrow,’ he promised, and with a little wave he turned and went back into his house.
She drove back to the surgery on autopilot, her mind whirling. One fact and one alone stood out: she might be almost the last twenty-eight-year-old virgin on the planet, but she wasn’t going to be one for much longer.
And she wasn’t quite sure how she felt about it...
The weekend was busy, but not because of work. Rhys was on duty and so was in and out of the surgery all the time, but he didn’t come up to her flat and she didn’t invite him. Instead she went shopping with Linsey for baby goodies and helped to put the finishing touches to the nursery-cum-spare bedroom in their cottage.
‘It’s looking really pretty,’ Tricia told Linsey as they finished setting up the crib.
She smiled indulgently and patted her bump. ‘Mmm. Almost ready for you, little one. Just a couple more weeks to cook.’
‘Where are you having it? Have you decided?’
Linsey snorted. ‘Matthew’s decided—he wants me to be in Lymington, if not Southampton. I want to be at home.’
Tricia smiled. ‘So we’re planning a home birth, are we?’
Linsey gave a wry grimace and shook her head. ‘No. Matthew’s adamant, and I suppose he could be right. He says I can have the second one at home but not the first. Too much of an unknown quantity.’
‘Very wise. I don’t suppose you intend to leave it so late before you tell him that he has no choice but to deliver it here?’
‘Me?’ Linsey chuckled. ‘I’m far too much of a wimp to stay quiet for that long. I’ll yell my head off at the first contraction, I’m quite sure.’
‘Rubbish. Have you been to childbirth classes?’
‘Of course. I’ve joined the local National Childbirth Trust group—in fact two of my patients are in the same group, which is quite fun. Rather levelling.’
‘Is Matthew going?’
She shook her head. ‘Only to the fathers’ class. He hasn’t had time to go to the others. Anyway, they’ve finished now. I know all about going hoo-hoo-ha-a-ah and chanting the alphabet backwards and so on. I just hope I remember when it comes to the crunch!’
She stretched, her hands cupping the curve of her abdomen, and groaned. ‘I wish the little wretch would learn not to grind its head on that nerve!’
The little wretch in question promptly wriggled into a more comfortable position, making Linsey’s abdomen writhe for a moment, and she patted its bottom and grinned. ‘Just make yourself at home, pest. Don’t mind me.’
Tricia smiled faintly. The dull ache of loneliness escalated to a sharp and almost violent stab. Did Linsey have the slightest idea just how precious a gift she was carrying?
Yes. She reached for Tricia and hugged her gently, then cupped her cheeks and stared into her eyes.
‘It will come to you,’ she promised. ‘One of these days you’ll meet Mr Right; you wait and see.’
Tricia gave a hollow laugh. ‘I think I already have. The trouble is, he sees me with quite different eyes.’
Linsey’s jaw dropped. ‘Rhys?’ she questioned.
Tricia nodded, and her friend dropped onto the edge of the bed and stared at her. ‘Oh, Lord. You’ve really fallen?’
Tricia nodded again. ‘Somewhat—for him and his children.’
‘And is it mutual?’
‘I would say not.’ Her smile was a bit wry, which was natural under the circumstances. ‘At least, he’s keen to further our relationship, but not necessarily on the spiritual plane.’
‘Oh,.’
‘Yes, oh.’
Linsey suddenly discovered an intense interest in the hem of her T-shirt. ‘So—ah—have you—um—I mean—?’
‘No. That is, not yet.’
‘But you think you will?’
Tricia laughed softly. ‘I know we will. It’s just when.’ She hesitated, then went on, ‘I’ve invited him round for supper on Wednesday, so I’d be obliged if you didn’t drop in or ring for a chat.’
Linsey’s eyes widened. ‘Tricia, are you ready for this? I mean, I’m delighted you care about him, but I’ve got a horrible sinking feeling you’re going to get hurt.’
‘You and me both, Lins. You and me both.’
‘Oh. dear. And I suppose it’s actually all my fault.’
Tricia gave her a reassuring smile. ‘Trying to clai
m all the credit? I think I might have had something to do with it. I mean, if I hadn’t wanted things to go this far I could have put the brakes on last night.’
Linsey’s head whipped up. ‘Last night? You didn’t mention last night. What happened last night?’
‘We took the kids to Lymington and got fish and chips and went for a walk, then put the kids to bed and sat in the garden.’
‘Wow.’ Linsey stared at Tricia in amazement. ‘Really?’
She shrugged. ‘Is that so major?’
‘To let you get so close to his children? I’ll say. I can understand him taking you to bed, but if he encourages you to spend time with his kids then I would say you’ve really got under his skin. Wow.’
‘You keep saying that as if you mean it,’ Tricia said drily.
‘I do. So, go on.’
‘Go on?’
‘You haven’t got to the exciting bit yet.’
‘Which exciting bit?’
‘Where you needed the brakes.’
‘Oh, that.’ Tricia felt her cheeks heat. ‘He just—kissed me.’
‘Just?’
‘Grief, Lins! Do you want it blow by blow?’
Linsey backed off. ‘Sorry. It’s just that I feel so guilty now. I feel I’ve put you both on a roller coaster and set you off, and I have a nasty feeling the ride’s going to collapse and you’ll both be hurt.’
Tricia took her hands. ‘Linsey, let me explain something. I’m twenty-eight. If I decide I want an affair with a sexy man who’s single and available, I’ll do it. I don’t need your permission, blessing, anxious fretting or supervision. Is that clear? I’m a big person now. I can make a mess of my life all on my own.’
Linsey smiled, freed a hand and cupped her friend’s cheek. ‘I know. I just care about you. You’ve been such a good friend all these years. I’d love you to find the sort of happiness I have.’
Tricia laughed softly. ‘So would I, but I have to accept it probably won’t happen with Rhys. Still, beggars can’t be choosers so I’ll take what I can get, and I just hope I come out at the other end still in one piece.’
The Ideal Choice Page 8
