by Liz Fielding
I wanted to call him so much. Wanted his voice grating softly against my ear…
I realised Sophie was looking at me a little oddly and I pulled myself together. ‘I’m thinking,’ I said.
‘It’s a quiz in a magazine, Philly. Not Mastermind.’
No, and twenty-four hours ago I wouldn’t have thought twice about the answer. I’d have immediately plumped for ‘e’. I had a boyfriend back home. But Don had faded from my mind like a photograph left out in the sun. All I wanted to do was switch on my mobile and check to see if there was another text message from Cal.
All that stopped me was the way he’d looked up at the window where Jay had been waiting for him. He might be thinking about me. Worrying about me. But he was with Jay.
‘Put her down for the boyfriend back home.’ Kate, stretched out flat on the sofa with a pair of cold tea bags over her eyes in preparation for another big night with her barrister, was clearly tired of the whole thing. ‘She’s going to marry the boy next door.’
‘Are you?’ Sophie asked, unflatteringly astonished. ‘I mean actually engaged, or anything? You’re not wearing a ring.’
No, I wasn’t. Not engaged. Not even ‘anything’. And remembering my determination to turn my life around, become a tiger, I said, ‘To be honest, the boy next door is more interested in his car than in me.’
I’d meant it as a joke, but as I said the words I realised that it wasn’t remotely funny, it was true. I’d devoted years of my life to Don while he’d devoted his to an unending line of decrepit vehicles. Infatuated from the first moment I’d set eyes on him, I was the dream girlfriend. Never demanding, always there—he’d never had to make the slightest effort to hold my attention. Okay, so that wasn’t his fault, it was mine. But, put to the test, he still hadn’t bothered.
‘Maybe you should put me down as an “a”,’ I said, with a mirthless grin.
Kate, startled, lost the tea bags as she turned to look at me. Sophie, missing the irony, grinned right back. ‘Excellent choice,’ she said. ‘You’ve got an hour to get ready. Wear something sexy. Tony adores cuddly girls with lots of hair and minimal clothes.’
What?
Minimal clothes?
Whoa!
‘Tony? Who’s Tony?’ I asked, overlooking the ‘cuddly’ as my bravado collapsed in a huddle and the ‘tiger’ in me bypassed kitten and turned into pure mouse.
‘He’s just a friend. Nice bloke. You’ll like him.’
‘Nice!’ Kate covered her face with her hands and groaned. ‘I thought you were a safe “e”, Philly, or I’d have warned you. For future reference the only other answer to that question is option “d”.’ You do not do blind dates.’
Consumed with relief at being rescued from my own stupidity—I appeared to have left my brain behind when I’d packed—I managed a laugh. ‘Well, actually, no, I don’t—’
‘Tony is fun,’ Sophie cut in.
‘Yeah, right. That’s why the only dates he ever gets are blind ones.’
‘Okay, I’ll admit he’s a bit boisterous—’ for a moment they appeared to forget I was there ‘—when he’s had a few drinks. But he’s a really, really nice guy beneath it all. Shy, even.’
‘Oh, please!’
‘Actually…’ I repeated and they both turned to me. ‘I don’t have anything sexy to wear.’ Fortunately, Sophie had been single-minded in her pursuit of the perfect business suit and, despite the tempting displays of Christmas party clothes, had refused to be distracted by anything remotely frivolous. ‘I didn’t really plan on…um…dating—’
As I said the word, it occurred to me that I’d never actually been out on a date. What did you do? What did you talk about? Don’s favourite topic of conversation was the Austin’s bodywork. With a ‘minimal clothes’ dress code, it seemed likely that Tony’s interest in bodywork would be rather more personal.
If it had been Cal I’d have had no problems. Talking was easy. So was silence. And he could get as personal as he liked…
Did I say I was a fool? Triple that.
Fool, fool, fool.
‘Oh, it’s not a date,’ Sophie said quickly. ‘There’ll be a crowd of us and you can’t spend your first Saturday night in London on your own.’ My face must have betrayed my doubts because she rushed on, ‘Don’t worry about clothes. We’ll fix you up with something. And you can give those delicious high heels you bought a trial run.’
I interpreted that as, ‘I spent my afternoon helping you out. It’s time to return the favour.’
‘But…’ About to say that I wasn’t planning on having a good time, I realised just how wet that would sound. It was Saturday night and Don would be down the pub with the rest of the gang. I trusted him—no one knew better than me just how trustworthy he was—but he was a good-looking guy and there wouldn’t be any shortage of girls eager to make sure he wasn’t lonely. Realising that Sophie and Kate were waiting for me to finish, I shook my head. ‘Nothing,’ I said. Then swallowed. Hard.
An hour later I was standing in my room wearing next-to-nothing in black that had been made for someone a lot less ‘cuddly’ than me and a pair of four-inch heels that Sophie had insisted were a ‘must’ to complete my sharp new City-girl image. Absolutely me.
My reflection didn’t look like any ‘me’ that I recognised.
I tugged on the stretch-fabric of the dress in an attempt to cover another inch of traffic-stopping bosom. I didn’t dare tug at the hem. The dress was only staying put by the snugness of fit and pure will-power. Tony was going to take one look at me and think Christmas had come a month early.
And I was the turkey.
All that was missing was a pair of flashing ‘Santa’ earrings.
I had three options. One, I could beef up my outfit with a smile and go along with Sophie’s idea of a good time in the interests of promoting flat-sharing harmony. Tony’s idea was something else.
Two, since he liked girls with ‘lots of hair’, I could take a pair of scissors to mine. It wasn’t as if I were deeply attached to it. At least, I hadn’t been until Cal had twisted it around his fingers and told me it was beautiful…
Was that why I’d gone to so much trouble, plastering on the conditioner so that the frizz had been smoothed out into tiny curls? Because we might meet in the hall…share the lift…
I dismissed the idea as ridiculous. I wasn’t thinking about Cal. Why would I care what he thought? He didn’t care about me. He just thought I was a stupid girl who couldn’t stay out of trouble for five minutes. Couldn’t manage a simple taxi ride without someone to hold my hand.
My fingers bunched into a fist as if to fend off the memory of his palm against mine.
He hadn’t even bothered to tell me he was moving out. Imminently. The way he’d talked about the turtle project, I’d assumed it was months away.
I made a determined effort to ignore the hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach. I had more immediate problems.
Three options? Oh, right. I could try the final choice in the quiz and use my mobile to phone a friend to bail me out. Unfortunately, since there was only one other person I knew in London—and I’d not only strained his Galahad potential to the limit but had been ignoring his messages all afternoon—that was a non-starter.
‘The taxi’s here,’ Sophie said, putting her head around the door. ‘Are you ready?’ Then, ‘Wow! You look totally knockout. Tony won’t believe his luck when I turn up with you!’
‘He’d better not get too excited,’ I said. Ready. And right out of options.
I picked up the long and supremely elegant black coat I’d bought that afternoon. It had seemed an incredible extravagance at the time, but at least it would keep me covered from neck to ankle. I might not take it off all night.
Sophie, anxious to go, hustled me out of the flat before I could put it on and punched the button to summon the lift.
I had an arm through one sleeve as the doors slid back to reveal Cal. He looked tired and irritable and there was a
moment of total silence as he took in my appearance. ‘My god, Philly…’ he finally managed.
I tried to speak but my mouth was glued shut. How did he do it? How did he know when I was in trouble and come racing to my rescue like the Seventh Cavalry?
He stepped from the lift, reached for my hand, holding it away from me so that he could get the whole effect. My expensive new coat slithered to the floor, unnoticed.
‘You look…’ He apparently couldn’t think of the words to express what he thought I looked like, which was perhaps as well. Instead he stepped forward, put his arm around my waist and pulled me hard against his body. The air rushed out of me, leaving me breathless—something was leaving me breathless ‘Different,’ he said. Then, presumably to stop me from demanding to know in what way ‘different’, he kissed me. And this time it wasn’t on the cheek.
I thought I’d been kissed. Don and I had practised that bit quite extensively—although not much recently, I had to admit—and I was certain I knew all there was to know about kissing. I was wrong.
This was new. Cal’s mouth was possessive, passionate, thorough, taking full advantage of the element of surprise.
And with one hand holding me firmly about my waist and the other cradling my head, fingers tangled in my hair, I wasn’t going anywhere until he’d finished what he’d started.
That was okay. I wasn’t in any hurry for him to stop.
Sophie, though, doubtless mindful of the waiting taxi, eventually cleared her throat pointedly and Cal let me go. At least he raised his head a couple of inches and, while still close enough so that Sophie couldn’t see, he raised one eyebrow a fraction. Just enough to let me know that this was indeed no more than the rescue I’d hoped for. And that he hadn’t entirely lost his mind.
He was alone there. Mine was nowhere to be found as he finally straightened, releasing my head but still keeping a firm grip on my waist as he said, ‘You can’t possibly go out like that.’
‘I can’t?’
Yes!
‘Not unless I’m there to take care of you.’
‘You’re more than welcome to join us,’ Sophie said quickly.
‘Thanks, but it’s been a long day.’ And keeping his arm firmly about my waist, he turned to face her. ‘But if that’s your taxi downstairs, I have to tell you that the driver is getting impatient.’
‘Oops! I must run.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said, turning to Sophie with reluctance, anticipating major irritation at having her captive ‘blind date’ hijacked in this fashion, but she was grinning broadly.
‘Crumbs, Philly,’ she said. ‘Don’t apologise. I was sure you were going to be the world’s most boring flatmate. I mean, any girl who’s still living at home at your age would have to be, right?’
Right.
She gave Cal an appreciative look. ‘But I have to admit that in your shoes I wouldn’t have been in any hurry to leave home, either.’ And with that, she stepped into the lift. ‘I’d say have fun,’ she said, reaching for the ground-floor button, ‘but it’s clear that you don’t need any encouragement.’
‘What will you tell Tony?’ I asked, stopping the lift door as it began to close. My conscience getting the better of common sense.
‘Absolutely nothing. I was keeping you as a surprise and I’m not going to break his heart by telling him how near he came to meeting the girl of his dreams.’
I felt Cal’s hand tighten at my waist as I hesitated. ‘You’re keeping Miss Harrington from her friends,’ he said, pulling me back. And the doors slid together leaving me alone with him.
I turned to look back up at him, expecting amusement at another fine mess I’d got myself into. But he wasn’t laughing. Maybe he was angry. I couldn’t tell. His eyes were dark and bottomless and unreadable and I hadn’t the least idea what he was thinking. Feeling. And he didn’t say anything that might give me a clue.
‘How did you know?’ I said quickly. Well, I had to say something to fill that yawning chasm of silence that was nowhere near as restful as it had been in the park that morning.
He stirred and until then I hadn’t realised how close we were. How still he’d been. How wonderful it had been just to stand there with his arm around my waist, my body wrapped in his warmth.
‘Know?’ He frowned.
‘That I wanted to be rescued? I considered sending you a text message but—’
‘A text message?’ Something about the way he said that warned me it had been a mistake to mention text messages. ‘It’s a funny thing about text messages. I’ve been trying to get in touch with someone all afternoon but she had her phoned switched off, didn’t pick up her voice mail, and totally ignored her messages. In the end my battery went flat and I had to come home to check out for myself that she hadn’t got lost. Or into trouble, picking up strange men in taxis.’
‘Just as well I didn’t bother trying to call you, then,’ I said, aiming for pertness.
‘It’s no bother,’ he said, not letting go as he stooped to pick up my coat, hand it to me. It was all I could do to stop myself from wrapping it about me to stop him looking at me. His expression was still giving nothing away and yet I had this uneasy feeling that I was Red Riding Hood and he was the wolf.
Instead I clutched it to me as he cupped my cheek in the cool palm of his hand. ‘And in answer to your question, Philly,’ he said, ‘I didn’t care whether you wanted to be rescued or not. I just knew that you weren’t going anywhere in that dress without me.’
‘You mean you…’ I made a vague gesture at the black dress that gave a whole new meaning to the word ‘little’. ‘Then you…’ I swallowed as my mind took me on a three-D rerun of the way he’d kissed me.
‘That’s about it,’ he confirmed. I really wished he’d smile… ‘Are you angry with me for kissing you?’
‘Angry? No! It was absolutely perfect!’ And then I strangled a groan, aware that I was in danger of making a complete fool of myself. But the warmth of his mouth, the satiny feel of his tongue against mine, the scent of him that had haunted me all day, had turned on lights inside my head which, until that moment, had only been flickering dimly. Who could think rationally at a moment like that? ‘What I mean is—’
‘I know what you mean,’ he said gently.
I was rather afraid he did. ‘Yes, well, thanks again. Maybe one day I’ll be able to do the same for you.’ Groan, groan, groan. I took a breath and started again. ‘I’ll rephrase that—’
His mouth didn’t change, but the creases at the corner of his eyes finally twitched into the promise of a smile. ‘It sounded fine the way it was.’
To which there was no answer. At least, not one that made sense. But none of this was making sense unless he was thinking of Don.
Of course. That had to be it. He was reminding me that I was attached, making sure I didn’t do anything that I’d later regret. Looking out for me. Again.
‘I’d better go and change into something less traffic-stopping,’ I said. And write out a thousand times in my best cursive—I am not a tiger, I never was a tiger and I never will be one. I made a move for the safety of my own front door, but Cal’s hand stayed glued to my waist.
‘That seems a pity, when you’ve gone to so much trouble and look so—’
‘I know how I look,’ I said, before he could say it for me.
‘No, Philly. I promise you, you can have absolutely no idea.’ And this time his mouth kicked up in the kind of smile that went straight to my knees as, taking my silence for consent, he steered me firmly in the direction of his apartment.
The words frying-pan and fire flashed through my brain.
I dismissed them.
Cal’s kiss might have given me a glimpse of everything I’d been missing, possibilities that I’d only dreamed about, but it had been a charade. Nothing but acting for Sophie’s benefit. Acting so real, so convincing that it deserved an Oscar. But it was still acting.
I was safe with Cal. Which assuaged my conscience, if no
thing else.
‘You can show your gratitude by making me a drink while I take a shower,’ he said. ‘Then we’ll go out and get something to eat.’
Safe as houses. Unfortunately. I didn’t want to be safe… I wanted to be at serious risk and I wanted Cal to be the source of danger.
‘You really don’t have to do that,’ I said quickly. ‘You’ve done more than enough today and I can’t begin to tell you how much I appreciate your help—’
‘But?’ he said.
But I was getting into something I couldn’t handle. Feeling things that under the circumstances were totally inappropriate. He was being kind again. That was all.
And still waiting for an answer. There was nothing I could say so I made one of those vague gestures that meant nothing, that hid what you were really thinking.
Thoughts like, I’d like nothing more than to spend the evening with you—again—but I don’t want to be just friends. I want something you can’t give me. Something that, until I met you, I hadn’t even known existed.
He didn’t press me further.
‘Then it’s me or Tony,’ he said as he unlocked his door. ‘I’m sure the Harrington girl would come back for you if you gave her a call.’
‘What would I tell her? That you decided to kiss and run?’ I said, attempting to make a joke of it. Then frowned because something Sophie had said didn’t quite make sense. I should have been paying more attention, but under the circumstances… ‘I’m not an authority,’ I said. ‘But it didn’t seem to be that kind of kiss.’
‘No?’ He lost the smile as he stood back to let me go ahead of him. ‘Go on through and make yourself at home,’ he said, taking my coat, leaving me feeling naked. He hung it up and turned back to me. ‘There’s some white wine in the fridge.’
‘Thanks, but I’ll be sticking to mineral water for the foreseeable future.’
‘You’re a fast learner,’ he said, starting on his shirt buttons. Cuffs first, to reveal strong, thick wrists.
I was very quickly learning a whole new set of responses as he started on the front, exposing first his throat, then a sprinkling of dark hair, the flat, tanned flesh of his stomach as he tugged his shirt out of his jeans.
