From The Moment I Saw Him ....

by MacDonald, Catherine

  “I see you had a secret weapon all along, Ian,” Rob said, smiling at me.

  “Yes - we won’t need to do much in future, just stick Eithne in front of them and clients will do anything she wants,” he replied, with a huge smile. I blushed, but was pleased all the same.

  “When will we know if we’ve got the account?” I asked, to cover my confusion.

  “Next week, probably. Whatever happens, you did well.”

  I had enjoyed the pitch, but it was a relief to feel that life would be less hectic in the run up to Christmas. Robin was pleased too, he had been aware that I had been struggling with my day to day work in recent weeks. Later that afternoon, Janie hovered in the doorway.

  “Mara called, Ian wants to see you in his office.”

  “Blast, I’ll never get these minutes finished.”

  I put down my pen, and walked the length of the corridor to the directors’ end. Ian was writing busily, but looked up when I hovered at the door.

  “Eithne - come in...”

  He put the work aside, and smoothed back his thick hair with one hand.

  “Do you have an up-to date passport?”

  “Yes, I think so. Why?”

  He gave me a conspiratorial grin.

  “I wondered whether you might like to spend the weekend in Paris.”

  “Paris?” I echoed stupidly.

  “Yes, you know, just over the Channel, they speak French there.”

  The grin deepened. I wasn’t quite sure what was going on.

  “For work?” I hazarded.

  “No. For pleasure. With me.”

  I sat down uninvited on one of the chairs by the coffee table. I really didn’t know what to think.

  “You mean - basically, a dirty weekend?” I said hesitantly.

  The grin faded.

  “Well, I’ve never liked that term. Why not call it a romantic weekend? I always think Paris is the most romantic of cities, especially before Christmas. Imagine strolling by the Seine, with the trees lit up and the reflections shining in the water.”

  “It sounds wonderful,” I said. “I’d love to see it. But I don’t know whether I’m ready to get into bed with you just like that. We’ve hardly even kissed each other. It doesn’t work that way for me. It was nice of you to ask me, though.”

  I stood up to leave. Ian stared at me, pondering his next move, I had the feeling he was not accustomed to being rejected. He said

  “Separate rooms, then?”

  I was still very unsure of my ground.

  “What do you want from this weekend, Ian? Is it to see Paris again, or to get to know me, or simply to have sex? I can see you doing two of those things, but I don’t know if that’s enough for you.”

  He rose from the desk, and walked behind me to close the office door.

  “Why must you always over-analyse things?”

  He was smiling, but I thought I detected a slight irritation in his voice.

  “Let me be honest. I really like you, Eithne. I haven’t made any moves on you because we’ve all been so occupied with the Warrender pitch. Now we have the time to get to know each other properly.”

  He reached for my right hand, turned it over and kissed the palm. I caught my breath, it was surprisingly erotic.

  “I want to take you to nice places, and yes, I would like to make love to you. You don’t appear to object to my company, don’t you think we could have a wonderful time? But I promise I won’t go any faster or further than you want. I’m not some sleaze ball trying it on.”

  He put his arms around me - he smelled deliciously of laundered shirts and men’s cologne.

  “Please say yes,” he murmured into my hair.

  I hesitated. I thought I could hear the ring of truth in what he said. And it would be amazing to see Paris. I was tempted.

  “When would we go?” I muttered, very conscious of his proximity and agency life going on outside the closed door.

  “Tomorrow evening, early. I’ll make all the arrangements. Back Sunday night. Sweet Eithne, do say yes.”

  He turned his head, and kissed me properly, a soft, lingering kiss, and I felt my heartbeat quicken.

  “What have I got to lose?” I asked myself. I found him very attractive. I knew about his reputation, but I thought I could handle a brief affair. It might be fun, and after all the warnings, I would know not to let myself get in too deep. However, if we had a fling, would it be possible for me to keep working at Mackerras Mackay once it had ended? I really liked the agency, and didn’t want to move on again.

  “Oh Ian, it’s not that simple.”

  I removed myself from his arms, and looked straight at him.

  “Now, let me be honest. Everyone tells me you pick girls up and drop them when you’ve had enough. I can deal with that - but I don’t want to have a thing with you and then find I have to leave when it’s over. I like working here, I don’t want to jeopardise my job.”

  “You’re making rather a lot of assumptions,” he said, surprised.

  “Yes - well, I did tell you before, I look before leaping now.”

  There was silence, while we both considered our positions.

  “I can’t predict what might happen between us,” he said, after a while. “But I promise you that you would not have to leave the agency as a result of any relationship with me.”

  “Is that right? I shall hold you to that, so it had better be true. Anyway, Ian, any relationship we have - if we have one at all - must remain secret. I don’t want people talking about me in connection with you. On a daily basis, we must be two colleagues, and nothing else. That means you can’t ask Mara to make the bookings for this little trip, you’ll have to do it yourself, it’ll be all round the place otherwise.”

  “You’ll come, then?” His face lit up.

  “Well, it would be lovely to see Paris..........we’ll just have to see what happens about the other stuff.”

  “You’re a monster,” he murmured, but he was smiling too. “Now. Practicalities. Give me your home number, I’ll call you later when I’ve booked the flights and hotel. Bring your case and passport in with you tomorrow, and tell everyone you’re going home early for the weekend or something.” He gave me a smouldering, sexy glance. “We’ll have a great time.”

  “I know. I think I deserve a treat. Now I have some minutes to finish.”

  Chapter 21

  I assumed that any arrangements Ian made would go smoothly, and they did. After an uneventful flight, we enjoyed a quick, late dinner at our hotel, and retired to our room.

  “I’m afraid I could only get one room, the place is booked solid,” he told me during the flight. “But you have my word that nothing will happen unless you want it to.”

  We settled down with glasses of cognac on a huge, squashy sofa, and he took me in his arms and kissed me. The kissing had started at the airport, and continued in the plane, the taxi, and the hotel. He kissed very nicely - not in the same league as Nick, but I soon felt relaxed and receptive. It had been ages since I had fancied anyone so much. Ian possessed the same sexual self-confidence which had made Nick so irresistible, and I could feel it working on me much as it had done in the past.

  What with the kissing and the brandy, my resolve to keep him at a distance began to waver, and when his kisses grew more insistent, and he unbuttoned my blouse and caressed my breasts, I was so aroused that I didn’t want him to stop.

  After a while, he literally picked me up and carried me to the bed, and made love to me with skill and tenderness. He was a very experienced lover, and I enjoyed every bit of it.

  “I thought you weren’t ready to jump into bed with me,” he murmured, nuzzling my neck, as we lay in a pleasant post coital glow.

  “Oh well - chalk up another one for the Inglis Technique,” I responded drowsily. “The truth is, Ian, I haven’t slept with anyone for a long time, and I’d forgotten how nice it can be. I’m afraid that, once you started, I got carried away.”

  I got carried
away again the next morning.

  Afterwards, we wandered about the streets, enjoying the unfamiliar sights and smells of the city. It was a clear, frosty day, and as we strolled by the river, the low sun against the trees made me think vividly of my first encounter with Nick.

  “Gosh - this reminds me of my first date with my boyfriend Nick, when I was at school,” I couldn’t help exclaiming.

  “You slept with him on your first date?” asked Ian, a little pointedly, I thought.

  “No, I don’t mean that, I mean the weather and the water. Actually, it wasn’t a proper date. He didn’t even kiss me,” I replied, with a return of that sudden ache I still got at times whenever I thought fondly of Nick.

  I stopped, and looked over at the swirling, grey waters, and remembered another scene on a bridge over a winter river. My face must have grown sad, because Ian pulled me towards him.

  “I take it this boy meant a lot to you,” he said, gently brushing a lock of hair back from my face.

  “Yes. He was everything to me. It’s taken me a long time to get over him. Perhaps it’s a girl thing - feeling an ineradicable link to the first person you are properly in love with.”

  We walked in silence for a while, and I tried to shake off the feeling of melancholy which had touched me. I was a little remorseful at having enjoyed sex with somebody else for the first time since Nick, though I couldn’t think why.

  Over lunch, in a steamy cafe, Ian asked me to tell him more about Nick. I think he was intrigued by the fact that someone had made such a lasting impression upon me. I gave him a brief account, because it was still painful to recall some of the very good times, but he was amused by the Sphere episode.

  “It wasn’t funny for me,” I remonstrated. “Anyone who knew him would have recognised I was the girl in question. My parents were mortified, you can imagine the comments at the Bridge Club in Beresford.”

  “Oh my God, yes. However, I don’t think you need worry about Sphere any more, I believe it isn’t doing very well. No more revelations to come there.”

  He gave me a long, intimate glance, as though recalling something pleasurable.

  “What is it?”

  “I’m just remembering those little soft kitten noises you make when we’re in bed together,” he said, smiling.

  I blushed, and shifted in my chair. Much as I had enjoyed his lovemaking, I was still surprised by my readiness to give in to him, and his certainty that I would do so.

  After lunch, we went to the Louvre, where I remembered some of the things which John had taught me - enough to make some fairly intelligent criticisms, anyway.

  Dinner at a delicious restaurant was followed by another passionate night. I felt I could get used to this sort of life, and was almost sad when we arrived back in rainy London.

  However, back at the office, I was determined to maintain normal working relations. There was an account review on Monday morning, and Robin and I were due to present the creative plans for a new development of the “Luna” range.

  “You look very pretty today, Eithne,” Robin complimented me, as we walked to the board room.

  “Do I?” I said innocently.

  “Yes - you’ve got a bright eyed and bushy tailed look about you somehow.”

  We walked in and sat down at the round table. Ian, in his capacity as group director, looked across and smiled at us.

  “Morning Robin, morning Eithne. Good weekend?”

  “Oh, you know, just the usual stuff.”

  I looked down demurely at my paperwork. I felt I would be good at keeping secrets.

  Ian asked me out for dinner on the Wednesday after we returned from France.

  “Bring an overnight bag - it’s such a trek back to Wapping,” he instructed me.

  I was curious to see his flat. It was on the first floor of a Georgian house, and was beautiful, with high, embossed ceilings and enormous windows, but I didn’t get to inspect very much on that first visit before he hustled me into his bed with flattering urgency.

  “That creative meeting this afternoon was torture,” he groaned as he pulled me down into the sheets. “All I could think about was making love to you, you looked positively edible in that little black suit. At this rate, I shall have to get a sofa in my office.”

  “If everything I’ve been told about you is true, Ian, I’m surprised you haven’t got one already,” I replied.

  Whatever his usual practice with other women, Ian did not drop me now that we had slept together. We met for dinner on several evenings in the week, and usually spent at least one day every weekend in each other’s company. My desire to keep things secret impeded our joint social life - for instance, Ian could not take me to dinners or parties attended by other agency staff members, and he much preferred that we spent time at his flat in Chelsea rather than in Wapping, but on the whole, things were good between us.

  I liked him very much, and found his company stimulating. Our sex life was always great; he seemed to know instinctively how to arouse and satisfy me, and I appreciated all the theatres and restaurants we went to. But I was not deeply in love with him as I had been with Nick.

  For his part, I think he was piqued by the fact that I could tease him and demonstrate that I had a will of my own. He had been used to women falling at his suave adman’s feet, and the fact that I was neither needy nor over compliant was a novelty for him, and something which kept his interest in me alight. Sometimes I wondered why I had not been able to do this woman-of-the-world stuff with Nick, it might have had a better outcome for me where he was concerned.

  There was a small celebration just before Christmas, when it was announced that we had won the John Warrender account. I was told that I would work on it as account executive, and this was something of a feather in my cap. I looked forward to doing business with John Warrender as much as anything, as I felt he and I were very much on the same wavelength.

  The agency Christmas party was held when we returned to work in January, due to clashing commitments before the festive season.

  Towards the end, Ian asked me to dance, and immediately folded his arms round me in a very tight embrace. Unusually for him, he was a little tipsy.

  “Uh - Ian - people are looking,” I muttered, conscious of some quizzical stares as he caressed my back.

  “Let them. You know we can’t keep this secret for ever, don’t you?”

  He brushed his lips over my hair.

  “Umm. We’ve managed so far.” I tried to disentangle myself a little, and he kissed my neck.

  “It isn’t really anything to do with anyone else,” he said. “I do want you to reconsider, darling, I can’t keep telling people I’m unattached when they ask me to a dinner party. I want to be able to take you out with me. To hell with everyone here, you know that someone will see us together sooner or later.”

  We had experienced a few difficult moments in recent mornings, when Ian had dropped me off a block away from the office to avoid arriving at the same time, and I had been forced to duck and dive to ensure other staff members did not see me getting out of his car.

  “Well, we can talk about it, but I don’t think this is the occasion to go public.”

  I smiled bravely at another couple drifting past, as if to say, fancy having to put up with the directors when they’re “tired and emotional”. Ian kissed the other side of my neck.

  “At this rate, I shall have to slap you and storm off the dance floor,” I hissed. He laughed loudly, and a few other heads turned.

  “Please, Ian ....”

  Something in my tone must have got through, because he released his grip slightly, and stopped the smooching. The dance ended soon after, and I went to walk away, but he caught me by the hand.

  “We don’t have to stay much longer. I’ll give you a nod when we can go,” he whispered.

  “That’s fine by me.”

  I slunk away to find a quiet spot, but I had not gone far when Robin approached.

  “Are you okay, Eithne
? Ian Inglis is a real wanker, I saw him all over you like an octopus during that dance.”

  He looked very annoyed on my behalf. My heart pounded, the last thing I wanted was attention.

  “I’m fine, it was nothing - please, Robin, just ignore it?” I pleaded

  “Well, if you’re sure...” He looked unconvinced but I think he sensed my embarrassment, and backed off. “Dance with me then?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  We walked to the floor. A slow song came on, and he put his arms round me. It felt funny given our day to day relationship.

  After a while, he asked me,

  “Do you ever hear anything of your old boyfriend, Eithne?”

  My heart beat a little harder.

  “No, nothing at all. But I haven’t exactly sought him out,” I replied.

  “It’s none of my business - but you’ve seemed a bit distracted at times recently, and I wondered....”

  “It isn’t Nick, I can assure you. I think I’ve just been a bit tired,” I said diplomatically.

  I saw Ian by the door, carrying his coat. I would need to slip away myself soon.

  “In fact - I think I’m going to go home now, Robin. Thanks for the dance.”

  I ducked out of his arms and walked purposefully to the door, leaving him frowning after me. I wished that agency life could sometimes be a bit less complicated.

  After the Christmas party, Ian and I had a serious talk about our relationship. I was happy for it to stay a secret, Ian was all for letting the world know. January shivered into February, and still no compromise was reached.

  St Valentine’s Day fell on a Saturday for once, and Ian booked dinner at a new restaurant in Kensington, which was attracting rave reviews. It was going to be a special occasion, and I treated myself to a rather daring new dress from Miss Selfridge and had my hair piled up on my head by Sandro. I still patronised him as he was so good at managing my curls.

  Ian goggled a bit when he saw me, but I felt I looked sophisticated and grown up, and enjoyed the admiring glances I attracted as we were shown to our table.