by Sara Craven
She’d also hoped to visit the town’s smartest hair salon for a complete restyle, instead of the usual boring trim by the village hairdresser.
All of it now in abeyance through no fault of her own.
The encounter with Zac Belisandro had shaken her badly too, and telling herself endlessly that everything he’d said was pure speculation didn’t help one little bit.
Oh, why couldn’t it have been Adam driving from the village instead? Except being discovered at the side of the road hot, tired and sweaty, with her hair escaping untidily from the ponytail Mrs Sansom insisted on was hardly the image she wanted him to have of her.
Working at the Oak didn’t leave her the time or the energy for tennis, or very much else, so she needed some other way to put herself back in the frame for him.
His birthday party in ten days’ time, when Serafina would hand over Mannion was the obvious opportunity to make him notice her again and remember the pleasure of that mistletoe kiss. To make him want more...
But how much more? What could she find in her vast ocean of inexperience to keep him intrigued and interested without necessarily ‘going all the way’ as she knew many of the other girls at school had already done?
The last thing she wanted was for Adam to think she was easy or cheap.
On the contrary, she had, somehow, to make him fall in love with her so deeply that nothing else mattered.
That was the goal. Now she had to find the route and nothing and no one, especially Zac Belisandro, could be allowed to deflect her.
In fact, she wouldn’t give him another thought.
That was until she emerged from the flat the following morning, an hour earlier for the expected hike to work and found her bicycle propped against the wall outside with a brand new padlock and chain dangling from the handlebars, and a note taped to the saddle.
For a moment Dana stood transfixed, an inexplicable mixture of emotions going to war inside her as she read the words, ‘With my compliments. Z.B.’
How the hell had he managed this? she raged inwardly, screwing the slip of paper to an angry ball in her hand. And now, she supposed, she would have to seek him out at some juncture to thank him. The thought had her screaming silently.
Unless she attached an equally brief response to the steering wheel of his car. Or would he take that as an indication that she was running scared—unwilling to face him?
Well, she wasn’t having that, so she would set her teeth and express some form of polite gratitude for his help, even though she’d have preferred to walk ten miles in tight shoes and the heat of the day than do any such thing.
As he’d almost certainly know, she thought grimly, stowing the padlock and chain in her backpack. Was that why he’d gone to all this trouble—simply to put her on the back foot?
I believed it was kindness.
His words of the day before echoed in her head, but she hadn’t bought that the first time around and she rejected it utterly now.
She’d heard Nicola speak with awe of his wealth, his success, and the power he exerted. That above all.
Kindness had never been mentioned, and it wasn’t a quality she would ever attribute to that cool, dark, distant figure moving, quiet and watchful, on the edge of their lives.
Which made the retrieval of her bicycle nothing more than a demonstration of that power, reduced to a microcosm.
Reminding her of something else, even more disturbing.
‘I am not your Dana.’
‘Not yet.’
If that was indeed what he’d said. She still couldn’t be sure, so the best thing she could do was put it out of her mind altogether—and go to work.
* * *
Surprisingly, it turned into a relatively tranquil day. Janice had called in sick, so any confrontation there had to be postponed.
And what a relief not to have to watch my back all the time, Dana thought. At least, not at work...
Not at Mannion either, she discovered when she got back that afternoon, because Zac Belisandro was no longer there. He’d returned to London, but the bad news was that Adam had gone with him.
She’d learned that from Nicola, who was waiting eagerly for her return armed with a copy of the latest Disney release.
‘Serafina’s going out,’ she said. ‘And she’s told Cook we can order in pizza if we want.’
‘Wow,’ said Dana, aware this was a major concession. ‘All that plus Johnny Depp. Fantastic.’
Television viewing was confined to a small room at the rear of the house, known as ‘the snug’.
Curled up on its sofa, they’d enjoyed the film and were just settling down to cans of Coke and their pizzas—Hawaiian for Nicola and double pepperoni for Dana—when the door opened and Adam came in.
‘So this is where you’re hiding. I thought the place was deserted.’
‘And I thought you were staying in London,’ said Nicola.
‘I changed my mind. I must have smelt the pizza.’
He sat down between them. Reaching down into the boxes, grabbing a slice from each of them and wolfing them down in a couple of bites.
‘Hey, you’ve had dinner already,’ Nicola protested indignantly.
He pulled a face. ‘A business thing and hours ago. Besides, you can’t talk seriously and eat.’
Nicola’s glance was faintly anxious. ‘How did it go?’
He shrugged. ‘It went. Now, be a love and get me a beer.’
Left alone with him, Dana tensed. This was a chance she couldn’t let slip—if only she knew how to use it.
Adam made another dive for the box at her feet. ‘Watch out,’ he said. ‘Or I’ll eat it all.’
‘It’s OK,’ she said quickly. ‘I’m not very hungry.’
‘You can’t be on a diet.’ His eyes studied her, smilingly at first, then growing more intent. ‘Or you might disappear altogether. And that would be a tragedy.’
His gaze moved down. Paused. ‘You’ve missed a bit.’
She glanced down, and saw, mortified, that a slice of pepperoni was adhering to the front of her tee shirt.
Before she could remedy the situation, Adam reached out and took it, his fingers lingering for an instant on the swell of her breast before he popped the fragment of meat into his mouth and swallowed it.
‘Delicious,’ he said, grinning. ‘But then I can never resist—pepperoni.’
She was lost for words, aware only of the hot wave of colour sweeping up from her toes to her hairline.
‘God but you’re lovely,’ he said softly. ‘I’d almost forgotten girls could blush.’
He bent towards her and, flustered, she knew he was going to kiss her and couldn’t decide how she should react. But with his lips a breath away from hers, they heard Nicola returning and Adam, in one swift movement, reached for another slice of pizza and transferred himself to the other end of the sofa, his swift conspiratorial smile conveying reassurance and a promise.
‘Serafina’s car is coming up the drive,’ Nicola announced as she entered.
Adam grimaced again and got to his feet, hurriedly finishing the pizza. ‘Then I’d better postpone the beer until I’ve made my report.’
‘Report?’ Dana queried as she and Nicola took the empty cans and boxes to the kitchen.
Nicola nodded glumly. ‘Adam’s PR company’s in trouble and may have to be wound up. Clients are cutting back because of the recession. But there could be an opening for him at Belisandro Europe, so tonight’s dinner was basically a job interview.’
She sighed. ‘He’ll have to take it, but he’ll find it hard after being his own boss.’
Dana felt jolted. Poor Adam, she thought, if he has to end up taking orders from Zac Belisandro.
And the realisation that such a job would mean an even stro
nger connection between Mannion and the Belisandro family also preyed on her mind as she walked back to the flat to tell Aunt Joss that she’d had a lovely evening.
* * *
She was still not sure about the little white top. Each time she tried it on, it seemed to get smaller, skimming her breasts just above the nipples and finishing well short of her midriff, making it impossible to wear a bra.
But the sandals had taken most of her money, so this had been all she could afford. And it hadn’t looked nearly so revealing on the market stall.
She could imagine what Aunt Joss would say if she ever saw it, so she’d have to make sure that ‘if’ never became ‘when’.
And, anyway, it was Adam’s reaction that really mattered, she reminded herself defensively.
Since pizza night, he’d become a more frequent visitor at Mannion, where naturally there was business to discuss, but that was clearly not his sole motive and Dana had to be careful that her new glow did not become too obvious.
Adam was careful too, their meetings consisting of snatched moments. Murmured words. Brief kisses.
Which, she told herself, was enough when she had the promise of so much more.
She smiled secretly to herself, recalling how she’d asked him the previous night what he wanted for his birthday, and how he’d smiled at her before whispering, ‘Sweetheart, I think you already know.’
And tonight at the party, somehow he would arrange for them to be alone together. She had his word for that.
Contemplating such a step into the unknown was disturbing—even scary. But her ultimate goal was still clear, and if this was what it took...
Taking a deep breath, she removed the white top, placed it on a hanger with the green skirt and hid them both under one of her school dresses in the wardrobe.
And just in time too, because Aunt Joss was calling to her and Dana just had time to slip on her dressing gown before her door opened.
‘So there you are,’ her aunt exclaimed. ‘Why aren’t you dressed?’
‘I felt so hot and sticky, I decided to have a shower and wash my hair.’
‘Well, please be quick. The Vicar will be here in half an hour.’
‘Mr Reynolds? Why?’
‘His daughter and her husband are staying at the Vicarage, and they’re all coming to the party, but the babysitter has let them down at the last minute, so Mrs Latimer suggested you could step in and look after Tim and Molly.’
‘But I can’t.’
Her aunt’s eyes narrowed. ‘I hope you have no foolish ideas about attending the party yourself, because you can put that right out of your head. There is a strict guest list and if Nicola has invited you, it was wrong of her, and Mrs Latimer will not be pleased.’ She paused. ‘So, hurry and have your shower, and make yourself useful instead.’
Just like that, Dana raged inwardly as the warm water cascaded over her a few minutes later. All her hopes and plans swept away—and there was nothing she could do about it. Nothing.
* * *
‘This is good of you, my dear.’ Mr Reynolds’s kind face was anxious. ‘I know you’d rather be out with your friends, so we’re doubly grateful.
‘The children are already asleep,’ he went on. ‘They don’t usually wake up or fuss. And we won’t be staying too late at the party.’ He smiled. ‘Tomorrow’s my busy day.’
Dana smiled back, reflecting he was not to blame for the collapse of her plans.
At any other time, an evening in the Vicarage’s comfortable, shabby sitting room with a generous chunk of Mrs Reynolds’s justly famous pork pie, a bowl of home grown tomatoes and a dish of strawberries, also from the garden, waiting on a tray, might have seemed a welcome break with routine, she acknowledged with a soundless sigh. But not tonight.
‘I’m not expecting any calls,’ Mr Reynolds said as they were leaving amid more expressions of gratitude. ‘But I’ve left a note of my mobile number beside the phone just in case.’
Dana nodded. ‘Well—I’ll see you later,’ she said, knowing she lacked the nobility to hope they’d have a wonderful time.
She’d had supper and was watching an Agatha Christie repeat on television when the telephone rang.
‘The Vicarage. Good evening,’ she said, reaching for the pencil and pad.
‘Good evening,’ a familiar voice returned. ‘Am I speaking to the babysitter?’
She gasped. ‘Adam?’
‘Who else? Just to remind you we still have a date, only later than planned. I suggest the summer house. When old Reynolds brings you back, get hold of the key and I’ll meet you there, although it may be gone midnight before I can get away.’
He paused. ‘Hang on a minute. ‘His voice faded as if he’d turned away, and she thought she could hear someone else speaking in the background, then Adam again, his voice impatient. ‘Yes, OK, I’ll be right with you.’
‘Sorry about that.’ He was back with her. ‘Any chance your aunt will miss you?’
‘I’ll say goodnight to her. Tell her I have a headache.’
He laughed. ‘Just don’t use the same excuse with me, sweetheart.’ He became brisk. ‘At the summer house, leave the key on the inside and don’t open the shutters, or someone might see and wonder. Do you like champagne?’
‘I’ve never had any.’
‘Ah,’ he said softly. ‘Another first. I can hardly wait.’
Dana replaced the receiver slowly and looked at herself in the hall mirror, lips parted, eyes bright with a mixture of excitement and apprehension.
Suddenly it all seemed to be moving too far and too fast, with Adam taking much more for granted than she’d expected. And she was not sure she was ready for—that.
I’ll deal with it somehow, she thought, swallowing. Because I can’t turn back now. There’s too much at stake. So, I’ll just have to keep him on a string—make him love me—commit himself.
She’d set herself a mountain to climb, but tonight she would take the first step.
* * *
She was far too early for their rendezvous, but she’d been too restless to wait at the flat. For one thing she was afraid she might chicken out. For another she was worried her aunt might return unexpectedly and find her up and dressed in the party gear she’d opted for after all.
She’d taken a spare bedspread from the linen cupboard and placed it, rolled up, in her bed which should be enough to deceive any casual glance from the doorway.
There was no moon, so it was lucky she knew the path to the summer house so well, particularly in her new sandals.
The pulsating rhythm from the disco had been replaced by something slow and dreamy, indicating the evening was nearing its end, and that people would be dancing wrapped closely together. Adam probably among them.
But then, he would be coming to her, and she must focus solely on that.
She unlocked the door and slipped inside, fitting the key into the lock as instructed. It disturbed her to discover just how dark it was with both the door and window shutters closed, but Adam would soon be with her, so there was nothing to fear.
She made her way cautiously to the sofa, kicked off her sandals and curled up in a corner against the sagging cushions.
Time passed with aching slowness. The air was still and warm, pressing down on her as heavy as a blanket in the pitch black. It was quiet too without the music from the disco, and Dana began to feel actually drowsy, having to make a conscious effort to keep her eyes open.
Even so, she missed the precise moment of his arrival. It was the faint rasp of the key turning, locking them in together, which jolted her upright, her heart thudding.
She said with a little gasp, ‘Oh, you’re here at last. Why have you locked the door?’
The only reply was a soft laugh, which could have meant anything, when wh
at she needed was reassurance.
She sensed movement rather than being able to see it. Breathed a trace of fragrance, musky and expensive, in the air.
It was almost like being blindfolded and having to rely on animal instinct.
Then he was there beside her, the warmth of his thigh against hers, his hands on her shoulders, drawing her towards him, and for a moment her taut body resisted, her palms flattened against the crisp frills of his dress shirt.
Because there were things that should be said, and she wanted the candles lit so she could see his face while they were saying them. While, perhaps, they sipped the promised champagne.
She whispered, ‘Adam,’ and felt his finger touch her lips to hush her.
She realised he was bending towards her. His mouth grazed her hair, her temples, her closed eyes and the curve of her cheek before moving down to her bewildered mouth, brushing it like silk, gentling her into the acceptance—the strange excitement—of his unseen presence. Making her lift her hands to clasp his shoulders. To cling to them.
It was all so different, she thought wonderingly. Almost surreal—like some dark dream she never wanted to end.
He kissed her again, slowly, coaxing her lips to part for him, so that his tongue could penetrate the moist softness within, sending a shiver of delicious awareness through every nerve ending in her body.
Persuading her to respond, shyly at first and then with growing confidence, growing pleasure, as their tongues tangled, sweetly and sensuously. Showing her how wonderful kissing could be when it didn’t have to be hurried. When there was no fear of interruption.
At the same time, his fingertips were stroking the line of her throat, lingering on the curve of her shoulder, then drifting down her back, over the narrow barrier of her top to the silky expanse of warm, bare skin beneath. Where, for an instant, he paused, as if surprised, before continuing his leisurely exploration, his fingers feathering down her spine.
And as Dana gasped and arched involuntarily towards him, she felt him smile against her lips.
He moved then, one arm round her waist, the other under her knees, lifting her, so that she was lying across his thighs, cradled against him.
