by Carrie Elks
He gave a humourless laugh. ‘Of course there is, but I’m not going to tell you that, am I?’
‘You’re being very modest.’
He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. Only nine minutes now. ‘Okay, I’m not a great cook.’
‘What a let down. I don’t think I’ve met many men who are great cooks, unless you count those chef guys on TV. Is that your only failing, the only skeleton in your closet?’
They pulled up at a stoplight. He willed it to turn green. Instead it hung around, the red glow illuminating the truck. Against his resolve he turned to look at her, and she was staring straight at him. Everything about her was soft and sweet. He wanted to bury himself in her. ‘There are plenty of skeletons in my closet,’ he finally said, his voice thick. He pulled his gaze from hers and stared back out of the windshield. At last the lights turned green, and he pulled away, almost speeding in his need to get home.
She tilted her head to the side, that devastating smile pulling at her lips. Her skin looked so soft and supple in the lamplight it was all he could do to keep his hands on the wheel.
‘Now I’m intrigued,’ she said.
‘You shouldn’t be.’ Four minutes. What was that, two hundred and forty seconds? He could count them down if he needed to, anything to take his mind off the woman sitting next to him.
‘You know, I’m really good at finding out secrets.’
‘I bet you are.’
If he didn’t know better he’d have thought she was flirting with him. Everything in him wanted to flirt right back. It would be easy, so much easier than this. He’d park up in the driveway, reach across and cup his palm around her smooth neck. He could lean in, feel that perfect moment of hesitation before his lips brushed against hers.
But that wasn’t going to happen, because this was London. She’d made it clear exactly where the boundaries lay. And he was going to keep firmly behind them no matter what it took, because he respected her too much to do anything else.
Two minutes.
One minute.
Then they were home. Thank God.
When was the last time she came home this late? Juliet couldn’t remember. It must have been before she left Thomas, but even then she couldn’t recall the night feeling this magical. Couldn’t recall the last time she felt this alive, either. She hadn’t wanted to stop dancing, hadn’t wanted to leave the club at all.
She didn’t want tonight to end.
Ryan pulled her door open, and offered her his hand. She took it, and climbed out of the truck, lingering next to him as he locked it up. Shoving his keys into his pocket, he glanced over at her, and she couldn’t quite read the expression on his face.
She wanted to make him smile again. ‘I feel like Audrey Hepburn in My Fair Lady. I could have danced all night.’
‘You would have regretted it tomorrow. You still might. We probably used muscles we’ve never used before.’
‘No regrets here.’ Her voice was firm.
Something flashed behind his eyes, but she couldn’t quite name it. ‘I’ll walk you home,’ he said, his voice gruff.
She waited for him to take her hand, or put his palm on her back the way he had in the dance club. But instead he just walked alongside her, keeping a steady distance between their arms. She couldn’t help but miss his touch.
When they reached the bottom step, she turned to look at him. There was still a gap between them – of two feet or more. But when their eyes met she could feel her heart start to drum inside her chest, a steady, fast beat that made her feel breathless.
If this was a date he’d step forward and kiss her now. For a second she wondered if he would anyway.
‘Thank you for a lovely evening,’ she said, keeping her voice low in the quiet of the night. ‘I can’t remember the last time I had so much fun.’ She was still looking at him, still holding his gaze. Still questioning if he might try to kiss her.
‘You’re welcome. I’ll just make sure you get inside before I go.’
‘Okay.’
Without even thinking about it, her lips parted. It felt as though every inch of her skin was tingling with anticipation. Her breath was shallow, her muscles felt achy, and it all led to a startling conclusion.
She wanted Ryan Sutherland to kiss her. Really wanted it. Was aching to feel his body press against hers one more time.
‘Good night, Juliet.’
There was a look of determination on his face. Was he feeling the same way as she did? Was he going to do it now? But instead of walking forward, he stepped back, squaring his shoulders as he gave her a nod.
It felt as though she was being dismissed. He wasn’t going to kiss her at all. He was going to go home and go to bed. A sense of disappointment overwhelmed her.
‘Good night, Ryan.’ Swallowing down the taste of regret, she walked up the steps, half an eye still on him. He hadn’t moved an inch. He was still watching, still waiting for her to get in. His scrutiny was making her feel self-conscious.
The first time she tried to fit the key into the lock it slipped. Her hand was shaking too much. When it finally slid in, and turned to open the door, she could see him turn and walk away in her peripheral vision.
She stepped inside the hallway, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her face was flushed. She wasn’t sure whether it was from all that dancing, or the crazy way she’d felt attracted to him. Either way, she needed to cool off, and fast.
In the morning she’d be grateful nothing happened. The last thing she needed was any more complications. They were friends, and it worked – she didn’t want anything to compromise that.
Yes, tomorrow she’d be glad they didn’t kiss. And tonight? She’d just wallow in the disappointment.
12
Come, sit down, every mother’s son,
and rehearse your parts
– A Midsummer Night’s Dream
‘Mommy, do I look stupid?’ Poppy frowned, pulling at the straw sticking out of her sleeves. ‘Ruby said I look like an idiot.’
‘You don’t look stupid,’ Juliet said, placing a battered old hat on her daughter’s head. ‘But even if you did, then that would be good. Because the Scarecrow had no brains, remember? So if Ruby says anything else, tell her it’s because you’re a great actress and play the Scarecrow really well.’
‘Ruby won’t care. She says Dorothy’s the best role ever, anyway. Especially because she gets to take a dog everywhere with her. It’s not fair.’
‘It’s a stuffed dog. Not that exciting.’ Juliet tried to hide her smile. ‘And Dorothy’s boring. All that talking about home. She doesn’t even like Oz, and that’s crazy. It’s full of yellow brick roads and lollipops.’
Poppy looked slightly mollified. ‘At least Charlie looks stupid, too,’ she said, looking out of the window to the house across the way. Charlie was standing on the deck outside the front door, scowling as Ryan tried to put his tin helmet on. ‘And I have a heart still, don’t I? Unlike Charlie.’
Juliet was too busy looking over at Ryan. Thank goodness they hadn’t kissed after the dance club, the way she’d wanted to. In the few days since they’d gone dancing, he’d gone back to being the perfect friend. Smiling, easy-going, waving at her when he saw her. It was as if any heated moments between them last Saturday had never happened.
And that was a good thing, wasn’t it? She had enough to deal with in her life, she didn’t need any more complications.
Not even ones as perfectly packaged as Ryan Sutherland.
‘Mommy, at least I have a heart, right?’ Poppy repeated. Juliet tore her eyes away from her hot neighbour.
‘Charlie has a heart, it’s his character that doesn’t.’
‘And I have a brain.’
‘That’s right.’
‘So can he come over and sleep here tonight still?’
Juliet never ceased to be amazed by the way Poppy’s mind worked. She’d segue from one conversation to another with very little logic to the change.
It made Juliet wonder just how jumbled her kid’s mind must be.
‘Of course he can.’ Ryan had brought his sleeping bag and pyjamas over earlier. The plan was to come straight back home from the play, and then make some popcorn and put a movie on.
‘And when he invites me over to his, we can sleep in his tree house, can’t we? Because that would be fair.’
‘What?’ Juliet was hardly listening. She was too busy watching Ryan as he ran a hand through his hair. Was he looking over at the house? She couldn’t tell.
Poppy sighed dramatically. ‘Nothing. Can we go now?’
The play was due to start at seven, but Miss Mason had asked all the children to arrive an hour before. They’d have a final run through in the classroom before walking to the stage. Juliet made her way to the auditorium, which was already half-full of parents and families. Looking around, she spotted a spare row of chairs in the middle, and made her way over.
‘There’s a seat here if you want it.’ Ryan’s low voice made her whip her head around. He was sitting two rows back, all on his own.
‘Oh, hi.’ She shot him a tight smile. ‘Thanks, but I probably shouldn’t.’
He tipped his head to the side, frowning. ‘Why not?’
A thousand reasons almost slipped from her tongue. Because every time I see you it makes you harder to resist? Because I still wonder what it would be like to kiss you?
‘Thomas and his parents are coming. I don’t want to cause any more trouble.’ She walked to the far side of the row, not wanting to sit in front of him. Shrugging off her jacket, she looped it behind her, then pushed her bag under the seat with her feet. Her muscles were already feeling stiff with anxiety, and she circled her neck a couple of times to try and loosen it up.
That’s when she saw him.
Sitting behind her.
Again.
‘Ryan?’
‘Yes, London?’
‘Why are you sitting behind me?’
‘There’s a better view from here.’
She turned to look at the stage, half-obscured by the curtain on the left-hand side. ‘It’s a terrible view.’
‘Not from where I’m sitting.’
When she turned to look at him again, his face was softer, somehow. ‘Ryan, I really don’t want to cause any trouble. Thomas was mad about the sailing. We’ve still not agreed on divorce terms yet, please don’t make more problems for me here.’
‘I won’t cause any trouble. I promise.’
There was a noise from the stage, as the chorus started to file in, sitting on the benches at the back. Juliet turned to look at them, her eyes wide, as she licked her lips to try and get rid of the dryness.
‘Are these the best seats you could get?’ Thomas huffed, pushing through the people who had seated themselves around her. ‘I thought you’d get here early, and save us seats at the front. You can hardly see the stage from here.’
‘You could have come early yourself.’
‘Some of us have a business to run. I had to leave an important meeting to get here in time. You could have been more helpful.’
‘I have a business to run, too,’ she pointed out.
He ignored her words, ushering his parents along. ‘There are only three seats. We need four.’
Four? She frowned, looking over to Thomas and his parents. Behind them, looking as immaculate as ever, was his girlfriend. Or was she still his assistant?
Whatever. It didn’t matter.
‘I didn’t realise you were bringing Nicole.’
‘Poppy told her all about the play, and asked her to come.’ He said it matter-of-factly.
‘Okay.’ She waited for them to leave, but Thomas lingered there, with his parents and Nicole standing behind him. He was staring at her expectantly, and she wondered if she should say something else. It was only when he cleared his throat that she realised he was waiting for her to offer to move.
Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen.
‘There are still some seats at the back,’ she said. ‘You could all sit together there.’
Thomas looked over her shoulder, and frowned. Then he brought his eyes back onto her, letting out a deep sigh. ‘You always have to be obstructive.’ He said it beneath his breath, a passive aggressive attempt to make her rise to his bait. But she ignored it, turning her head to the front, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her riled. Within moments the four of them had left the row and made their way to the back.
Her mouth was dry, her heart was speeding, but the sense of elation she felt for staying calm and holding her own more than made up for the agitation.
She’d almost certainly pay for it later, but right there, right then, she was proud of herself.
‘Can we sleep in here?’ Poppy asked. She was kneeling inside the fort they’d made up using an old sheet and a stack of cushions. Charlie was beside her, shining his torch around, watching as the light pierced the thin fabric, making shapes on the ceiling above.
‘Sure you can. Once you’ve finished your snacks I’ll bring some sleeping bags in here.’ Juliet had set up her laptop with a movie, ready for them to lay out and watch it as they stuffed their faces with kernels. ‘And then it will be time to sleep, okay?’
Poppy looked at Charlie, trying her best not to smile. ‘Okay.’
Leaving the room, Juliet shook her head. The two of them had clearly been scheming, but she didn’t really mind at all. It was the weekend, after all, and they deserved a treat after all the work they’d done on the play. Her eyes watered as she remembered how proud she’d been earlier that evening, as the children took a bow after acting their hearts out. She’d practically worn out her palms applauding them, with tears streaming down her face.
Even Thomas had been touched. He and his family had descended on Poppy with hugs and congratulations as soon as the play had finished. Luckily he hadn’t mentioned the seat issue again. She was sure he would, though, at some point.
She wouldn’t worry about that right now. Pushing Thomas to the back of her mind, she cleared up the kitchen, sliding dirty plastic beakers and plates into the dishwasher, before wiping down the sides with a clean, white cloth. She was rinsing it when she heard a rap at the door, three consecutive knocks that made her heart jump out of her chest.
Thomas.
Was he never going to leave her be?
Wringing the wet cloth in her hands, she placed it on the drainer. She put her hands on the counter, trying not to sigh.
Another knock made her stand up straight. She was so sick and tired of the way Thomas thought she was always at his beck and call. His lack of empathy, combined with his complete sense of entitlement was almost unbearable.
She’d had enough.
Juliet stomped her way down the hallway and wrenched the front door open. She narrowed her eyes, waiting for the barrage of insults. Her mouth was set in a tight line.
Until it dropped open with surprise.
‘Ryan?’
‘You look pissed. What have I done this time?’ He leaned casually against the door frame, a stuffed toy in his hand. ‘Did I laugh too loud at the play?’
She was still trying to compose herself. She’d been all ready for a fight, and her body hadn’t yet relaxed. ‘I could live with the laughing. It was the crying that really annoyed me,’ she told him. ‘Who knew you were such a softy?’
‘I reckon you knew.’ He gave her a lazy smile. ‘So anyway, why were you looking so angry?’
‘I thought you were Thomas.’ She moved back from the door, letting him step inside. He followed her to the kitchen, propping the soft toy against the tiles.
‘That’s not the best compliment I’ve ever had.’ He leaned against the counter. ‘Why would he be coming around at this time of night anyway?’
‘Because I made him sit at the back,’ she told him. ‘He’ll want to have the last word at some point.’
‘Well, you stood up for yourself like a badass. You should be proud of yourself.’
/> ‘Thank you kindly.’ She gave him a mock curtsey. Looking up at him, his gaze immediately caught hers. The expression on his face took her breath away. A slow smile curled at his lips, and his eyes were soft, yet somehow heated. It was the same way he’d looked at her in the dance club, and it made her heart race.
Against her will, her own lips lifted in a smile. She could hear the rapid beat of her pulse in her ears, feel the pounding in the ribcage, all reminding her of one inimitable fact.
She still wanted to kiss him.
Taking a ragged breath in, she tried to ignore her body’s response to him. Tried to remind herself why this was such a bad idea. But his closeness was overwhelming her, making her want to reach out and touch him.
‘Ryan … ’
He looked as conflicted as she did. ‘Yeah. I should go.’
But she didn’t want him to. She couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d felt in the dance club, holding his body tight against hers. His muscles hard against the softness of her curves, the two of them fitting together as though it was meant to be.
‘Stay.’ She reached out to touch his arm. Bad idea, Juliet, bad idea. Pushing that thought down, she circled her fingers around his wrist.
‘London, I can’t.’ He looked as if he was in pain.
‘Why not?’
‘Because every time I look at you, I want you.’ He closed his eyes, pinching the skin at the top of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. ‘You’ve made it clear you just want to be friends. I’m trying to respect that.’
‘Oh.’ She let go of his wrist. A mixture of emotions washed over her. Sadness that her friend was upset, elation that he wanted her. But more than anything she felt fear. Not of him, but of herself. Of her own desire.
‘I’m gonna go.’ He went to turn and make for the hallway. An impulse overtook her, made her reach out for his arm again. He looked at her with a quizzical expression, and without letting herself think about it, she stepped forward, rolling onto the balls of her feet, and pressed her lips against his.
His mouth was soft and warm, and for a moment he was a statue, as though the shock had frozen him still. But then she moved her lips against his, lifting her hand to cup his jaw, and he leaned into her. Still kissing, he threaded his fingers through her hair, deepening their embrace until his tongue slid softly against hers.
