But this morning, he’d nearly done exactly that. What had he been thinking? It was all these sodding engagements. They were getting to him. That was the only answer. They were getting to Ali too. As was her parents’ impending separation and divorce. If anything, Ali was even more anti-marriage now than she had ever been. And that was really some going.
‘Simon? Are you all right?’ his mum was saying.
He met the anxious look in her eyes. ‘No, Mum, I’m not. And you sitting on my bed nursing that cup of tea isn’t helping. Can’t you please take on board that this is my flat? That I had this place converted into flats for a reason. I need some sodding privacy. Not you bursting in whenever you feel like it. Can’t you knock and wait for me to say whether or not you can come in, at the very least? I knew I shouldn’t have bought this bloody house from you. What I should have done was bought a place of my own away from here.’
‘But I did knock, sweetheart. You didn’t answer. And I knew you’d been out all night so I thought you might like a cup of tea, and….’ Her voice trailed off and the cheerful smile was gradually replaced with a painful grimace. ‘Oh, I see. Are you saying that you only did all this because you felt you had to? That you’d have preferred to live far away from me? I … I didn’t realise you felt like that. I … I thought you liked being with me. But of course, that was silly of me. You’re a young man with a life of your own and—’
‘Stop right there,’ he interrupted. He hadn’t meant to hurt her. Christ, what was wrong with him today? First he proposes to Ali. Now he breaks his mum’s heart. ‘I’m sorry, Mum. I didn’t mean that. And I didn’t mean to snap at you.’
‘That’s all right,’ she sniffed. ‘I understand. I’m just a silly old woman suffocating her lovely son.’
She went to stand but he gently put his hand on her arm to stop her. He took the teacup from her shaking hand and placed it on the bedside table. He then took both her hands in his and squeezed them tight – but not too tight. She suddenly looked very fragile … and old.
‘I love you, Mum. With all my heart. I love living close to you. You’re not a silly old woman and you’re not suffocating me. But yes, I am a grown man and I do want some privacy. You should, too. You’re only sixty-three. You still have a lifetime ahead of you. Don’t you want to meet someone special? Don’t you want a life of your own that doesn’t revolve around me? I bought the house from you so that you’d have money. So that you could do all the things you should’ve been doing – would’ve been doing if Dad were alive. Plus, I bought it so that we could still be close. The hesitation I had wasn’t for me. It was that you might still do exactly what you are doing.’
‘Interfering. Ruining your life.’ She wouldn’t meet his eyes.
‘Putting me and my needs before yourself. Putting your life on hold until I find someone who you think may replace you. Sacrificing your needs for mine.’
She raised tearful eyes to his. ‘It’s a mother’s job to take care of her children. It’s not a sacrifice. You’re my world, sweetheart.’
He shifted his position so that he could wrap his arms around her. ‘And you’re mine, Mum. But that doesn’t mean we can’t share that world with other people. You want me to be happy, I know that. Well, I want you to be happy, too. And I need to do things for myself. Make my own tea, my own breakfast. Do my own washing. That’s why I wanted us to live separately. I want a mum I can chat and laugh with, as we do, but not a cook, cleaner and general dogsbody. I want you to come for coffee, or lunch or dinner, or just to tell me about your day. I don’t want that day to revolve around me. I’m not sure I’m explaining this properly.’
Maggie raised her hand and gently brushed his cheek. ‘You’re explaining it perfectly, sweetheart. And I love you even more, if that’s possible – which of course, it isn’t.’
‘I really am sorry I snapped.’
‘Forget it, sweetheart. What you need is sleep, I expect. Not me sitting on your bed. I’ll leave you in peace.’ She got to her feet and smiled. ‘And next time I’ll knock and wait to be invited in.’
‘Actually, Mum. What I need is a cup of coffee. And a chat. If you have time, that is.’
She beamed at him. ‘I think I have a free half hour. Your place or mine?’
Simon grinned. ‘Mine. It’s closer.’
‘Well, you’d better get up then. That coffee won’t make itself, sweetheart.’ She winked and left the room.
‘I think I may regret what I said,’ he called after her, laughing as he jumped out of bed, his headache gone completely. It seemed that his already pretty wonderful relationship with his mum had actually taken an even better turn this morning. It was a pity he couldn’t say the same about his relationship with Ali. But perhaps his mum would have a few ideas on what he should do about that.
Chapter Three
The manager’s job should have been Ali’s. Everyone said as much. Even her own parents – and they didn’t want her working at The Shimmering River and Water Sports Centre in the first place. A complete waste of a good – and exceedingly expensive – education, as far as Tabitha and Tom Warner were concerned. Not that the cost of her education was money well spent in any event, in Ali’s opinion. Unfortunately, she took after her grandmother, Gertie, not her mum, in the brains department – quick-witted, but not overly intelligent. Good with her hands, not her mind. Preferred swimming in the sea to burying her head in study books. And she didn’t take any notice of her parents’ opinions on her career choice. She would far rather work at the centre than be stuck in an office all day, as they were. Albeit in exceptionally grand offices in London, with state-of-the-art air conditioning and interior design budgets large enough to make a person’s eyes water. Ali would suffocate in such an environment. She would wither away and die like a delicate flower.
Not that Ali was either delicate or flower-like. She had the constitution of an ox, so Gertie was always telling her. Gertie also told her she was as stubborn as a mule. And as flighty as a magpie. Gertie liked similes. She sprinkled them into her conversations as liberally as she sprinkled sugar in her tea. It didn’t matter to her if half of them made no sense at all. She recently described her own daughter, Tabitha, Ali’s mum, as being as cool as a cucumber and as dizzy as a cat on a hot tin roof, all in the same sentence.
‘Aren’t they the complete opposite of each other?’ Ali had asked.
Gertie gave her trademark throaty chuckle, caused, her doctor had told her, from smoking too many cigarettes in her past. ‘No, Ali-ba-ba,’ Gertie said, using her pet name for her grand-daughter. ‘Your mum’s like a whirling dervish at the moment. Keeps switching from one mood to another. One minute we’re all basking in the sunshine of her smile, the next we’re in the middle of an ice storm. I think your mum and dad need their heads bashed together. That’d soon sort out this divorce nonsense.’
Ali had changed the subject. Her parents’ upcoming divorce was another conversation she didn’t want to have.
Now, instead of being manager, she was waiting to meet her jumped-up new boss and she wasn’t looking forward to it. Still a little hung-over from last night, something else was niggling at her – apart from Aidan Rourke’s impending arrival. Simon had obviously been joking this morning but it had slightly unnerved her. They’d been such good, close friends for so many years. Why now? Why would he suddenly make a joke about them getting married?
‘There is no smoke without fire,’ Gertie would have said. Was Simon, in an obtusely roundabout way, trying to tell Ali that he wanted more from her than friendship? That his feelings had suddenly changed and his love had gone from platonic to passionate?
There was nothing passionate about the way he suggested they should get married. Nothing even remotely romantic either. It seemed he merely thought it might be a way of solving the problems he believed they had. Hers – that she had a complete aversion to marriage and his – that he lived under his mother’s thumb.
OK, not under her thumb, exactly. If anything, Ma
ggie Hart lived under his. She was so devoted to him, she had no real life of her own. She dreaded the thought of losing him; so much so that she’d somehow managed to find the money to have her house converted into flats, just so that he would live nearby. At the time, Ali had asked Simon whether Maggie had obtained a mortgage to pay for the work, or whether she had savings, or perhaps, money left over from the life insurance on his dad, but Simon had been so vague about it and clearly didn’t want to discuss it, so she’d let the matter drop. She must ask him about it again at some stage. Not that it was any of her business. But it was so unlike him. Simon usually told her everything – and she, him. They had no secrets from each other as far as she was aware. Not one. Or so she thought until today. Was he keeping his true feelings for her a secret?
He had been behaving out of character lately. She hadn’t thought much about it before, what with her parents’ marriage suddenly falling apart and then her boss selling up – and to the Rourkes, of all people. They were well-known in the surroundings counties, not only for their wealth but also their complete indifference to anyone other than themselves. Since hearing that the centre was their latest acquisition, Simon’s erratic behaviour had almost completely passed her by. The more she thought about it, the more she realised something had definitely changed.
‘Penny for them.’
‘What?’ Ali’s head shot up at the sound of the stranger’s deep voice. Her mouth fell open at the sight of the stranger’s face and her body suddenly woke up from its deeply hung-over state of lethargy to a state of excited frenzy. Holy Hell, this man was hot. Hotter than hot. Had her body actually caught fire just by looking at him? Heat flooded her cheeks and if she opened her mouth again to speak, she would no doubt see steam come out instead of words.
He smiled, and whistles blew in her head. He walked towards her, and alarm bells clanged fifty to the dozen. Who was this man? What was happening to her? Was this what people meant by love at first sight? It was definitely lust at first sight. She wanted to rip her clothes off and throw herself on the desk in front of him.
Her clothes! Damn it, damn it, damn it. Why hadn’t she gone home to change? Why hadn’t she worn a dress, at least? Why had she grabbed her tracksuit, tied her hair into a ponytail and removed all traces of make-up from last night? Why had she slipped on her flip-flops instead of the eye-poppingly expensive, designer trainers her mum had bought her ‘as a little gift’ the other day; the ones she’d carefully replaced in the gold tissue paper and designer box they’d come in and safely placed in the bottom draw of her desk because designer trainers and water sports didn’t mix as far as she was concerned.
‘Please don’t get up.’ The man had an excited look in his eye as he reached her desk. As if he had found a pot of gold, not a scruffy young woman.
This definitely couldn’t be her new boss. He couldn’t be.
Finally, she found her voice. ‘Sorry. All-night party. Bit hung-over. Who are you?’ Great. She sounded like a moron. That went nicely with the overall look of layabout she must have given, seated as she was with her feet up on a half-open drawer, leaning back in her battered swivel chair, a half-drunk cup of coffee in one hand, a bar of chocolate from the vending machine, in the other.
He raised dark, perfectly shaped brows. ‘I’m Aidan. Aidan Rourke. And you, I assume, must be Alison Warner.’
All the bubbles burst at once. This man. This demi-god. This sex machine. This gorgeous hunk of athletic-looking manhood, was Aidan Rourke. The git? No! It couldn’t be. The universe was having a laugh. So much for looking professional when she met him. Her hangover had definitely put paid to that intention.
She nodded. What else could she do? She couldn’t speak. She wanted to cry like a baby. In her thirty-three years on this earth, she had never fallen deeply, madly, passionately in love with anyone. In the last five seconds there was a distinct possibility that she had done all three – four if you counted ‘hungrily’. She could eat this man up right here, right now. She wanted to lick and nibble every last inch of him. Every. Last. Inch. And he was the one person on the planet she could absolutely not feel this way about. Absolutely. Not.
She was in trouble. Up to her eyes in it. She couldn’t fall for a privileged, arrogant, inconsiderate bastard like Aidan Rourke. She couldn’t.
‘You seem somewhat apprehensive,’ he said, every syllable bringing a new goosebump to her skin. ‘I completely understand that. I hope I can set your mind at ease.’
He perched casually on the far edge of her desk and smiled, which had completely the opposite effect to making her feel at ease. He appeared to be waiting for her to respond but she didn’t.
‘OK. Let me explain.’ He leant forward. ‘The position of manager should’ve been yours, Alison.’
‘Ali,’ she squeaked.
‘Ali. I like that. Well Ali, let’s get this sorted right away, OK? It is. I’m promoting you to manager with effect from today. I’m also giving you a pay rise to match your position. The only thing I know about water sports is enjoying them. I don’t know what goes on behind the scenes and I have no desire to. That’s your job. You keep this place running – or should that be, flowing, smoothly and I’ll keep out of your hair. Deal?’
What had just happened? ‘What?’
‘Don’t you want the job? I thought you’d be happy. Is there a problem? Or is there something else you want?’
You, she wanted to say. Instead she coughed, pulled herself upright and forced a smile. ‘Are you serious?’ Thank heavens the squeaky voice had gone. She sounded more like her usual self at last.
He leant closer and she almost reached out and grabbed him. ‘Deadly,’ he whispered.
She didn’t doubt that for a minute.
‘You’re making me the manager? From today?’
‘Uh-huh.’
He even made “uh-huh” sound sexy. This man was dynamite.
She coughed again. ‘Why?’
He furrowed his brows and his dark, molasses-coloured eyes seemed to seep into hers. She had to pull herself together. His laughter was like a heavenly chorus. She was really losing the plot.
‘Haven’t I made that clear? I don’t like work. Complete allergy to it. Fun, yes. Work, no. So here’s the deal. You work, I play.’ He laughed some more. ‘Of course, I will have to pop in from time to time. Dad’s a bit of a tyrant and he’ll expect that. And, now that I’ve seen some of the … delights the place has to offer, I think I’ll definitely be popping in more frequently than I’d originally planned. But as to the day-to-day running of the place, that’s now down to you. We may need to make a few changes but there’s no need to discuss those now.’
He brushed a wayward strand of hair from Ali’s face, and in doing so, took the words she was about to say and made them disappear.
‘You weren’t the only one who was apprehensive about today, Ali,’ he continued. ‘But I think you and I are going to get along just fine. Better than fine, in fact. A lot, lot better. Don’t you agree?’
She nodded.
‘Excellent. I can see you’ve got a lot on your mind and I believe that today is actually your day off, so I won’t detain you.’ He slid from the desk and smiled the sexiest smile she’d ever seen. ‘It was lovely to meet you, Ali and I’m already looking forward to the next time. Enjoy your day. See you soon. Very, very soon.’
He was gone as quickly and as quietly as he had arrived, but something – other than just the promotion – had changed in Ali’s life. Was it for better, or for worse? And why had damn marriage vows suddenly pop into her head? She must be more hung-over than she had thought. That was the only explanation.
Wasn’t it?
Chapter Four
Ali limped into Oakwood Crescent and immediately stopped in her tracks. All she wanted was a peaceful afternoon dozing in front of the TV with a bottle of red wine and a pizza with all the toppings, followed sometime later by a luxurious bath and an early night. But a relaxing time probably wasn’t on the cards. Th
e sprawling, new-build house she shared with her parents, sat dead-centre of the Crescent’s raised curve, ensuring it could been seen from either end of the street. It gave the impression of ‘Lording it’ over each of the three houses either side – which was one of the reasons her mum had chosen it, and from where Ali stood, she could see both her parents’ cars were parked on the brick-paved driveway.
She reluctantly hobbled onward, her flip-flops slapping both the pavement and her soles. For the past few weeks her parents had arranged things so that only one of them was home at any given time. She was becoming more anxious with every step. Either they’d got their timings mixed up, or one of them was out and hadn’t taken their car, which seemed unlikely. Other than her dad’s three-hour Sunday run, her parents went virtually everywhere in their respective cars, the few exceptions being, the train to London each day for work – and even then they each drove separately to the local station two miles inland – or if they popped down to the village shops for something.
Raised voices greeted her the moment she stepped onto the sloping drive.
After the confusing and rather disturbing day she’d had, the last thing she needed was to listen to her parents arguing. Perhaps if she told them about her sudden promotion and pay increase, they might stop throwing insults at one another and shower some goodwill and happiness on her. They were, after all, often telling her she lacked drive and ambition, so the promotion should please them both. They had never understood why she had taken the job at the centre in the first place. They assumed their only daughter would follow in their footsteps. How wrong they had been about that. Ali had seen how their careers had affected them. She had no intention of travelling down a similar path. Fitness and the outdoors, especially anything to do with water, were her true love. And she was as stubborn and determined as her parents when it came to getting what she wanted, provided it was something she wanted badly enough.
It Takes Two Page 3
