‘Hi.’ He fell into step beside her. Not
exactly chatty, he never was at work, but today neither was she. ‘How’s your shift?’
‘Long,’ she admitted. ‘Everything’s
really quiet—I’m waiting for a baby boom.’ She smiled when she saw Mary walking towards them.
‘We’re missing that little man of yours,’ Mary said. ‘How is he doing?’
‘He’s fine,’ Bridgette said, expecting Dominic to walk on when she stopped to talk to Mary, but instead he stood there with them. ‘I am sorry to have given you such short notice.’
‘Hardly your fault.’ Mary gave her a smile. ‘You’d be missing him too?’
Bridgette gave a nod. ‘A bit,’ she admitted, ‘but they should be home soon for a visit.’
‘That’s good.’ Mary bustled off and Bridgette stood, suddenly awkward.
‘Have you heard from her?’
Bridgette shook her head. ‘I tried to ring but couldn’t get through—I think she’s out of credit for her phone. Right.’ She gave a tight smile. ‘I’m going to head for home.’
‘I should be finished soon,’ Dominic said. ‘And then I’m back here tomorrow for the weekend.’ He gave her a wry grin. ‘Some holiday romance.’
‘We can go out tonight,’ Bridgette offered. ‘Or sleep.’
‘Nope,’ Dominic said, ‘we can go out and then…’ He gave her that nice private smile. ‘Why don’t you head over to mine?’ he asked, because there were cafés a stone’s throw away, unlike Bridgette’s flat.
‘Sure,’ Bridgette said, because she couldn’t face pizza again and the flat still hadn’t been tidied. The cot was down, but stood taking up half the wall in her spare bedroom, which made it an obstacle course to get to the computer.
Next weekend she was off for four days and she was going to sort it.
* * *
Bridgette let herself into his flat, and wondered how someone who worked his ridiculous hours managed to keep the place so tidy. Yes, he’d told her he had someone who came in once a week, and she knew he did, but it wasn’t just the cleaner, Bridgette knew. He was a tidy person, an ordered person.
Knew what he wanted, where his life was going.
She had a little snoop, to verify her findings. Yes, the dishes were done and stacked in the dishwasher; the lid was on the toothpaste and it was back in its little glass. She peered into the bedroom—okay, it wasn’t exactly hospital corners, but the cover had been pulled back up. She wandered back to his lounge and over to his desk.
There was a pile of mail waiting for him, one a very thick envelope, from that exclusive hospital where he wanted to work, but it was too much to think about and she had a shower instead. Then she pulled on a black skirt with a pale grey top, because an awful lot of her clothes seemed to live here now. The outfit would look okay with ballet pumps or high heels—wherever the night might lead.
It was a holiday romance, Bridgette kept telling herself to make sense of it, and summer was coming to an end. The clock would change soon and in a couple of weeks it would be dark by now. She felt as if she were chasing the last fingers of the sun, just knew things were changing. Oh, she’d been blasé with Mary, didn’t want to tell anyone what was in the bottom of her heart, that things were building, that at any moment now the phone would ring and it would all have gone to pot.
‘Sorry about that…’ He came in through the door much later than expected and gave her a very haphazard kiss as he looked at his watch and picked up his mail. He didn’t want her to ask what the hold-up had been, didn’t want her to know the scare little Francesca had given him just a short while before. He had twelve hours off before a weekend on call and he needed every moment of it, but first… ‘I’ve got to take a phone call.’
‘No problem.’
‘Hey,’ Dominic said when his phone rang promptly at seven-thirty. ‘How are you?’
‘Good,’ Chris said, and got straight to the point. ‘When are you coming back to Sydney?’ Chris was growing impatient. ‘It’s been ages since you were here.’
And Dominic took a deep breath and told him the news he hadn’t really had time to think about, let alone share with Bridgette. ‘I got a phone call today, an—’ he didn’t want to say too much at this early stage ‘—I’m coming home for a few days next weekend. We’ll go out then.’
‘It’s been ages.’
‘I know,’ Dominic said, and he knew how much his brother missed him, but he tried to talk him around, to move the conversation to other things. ‘What are you doing tonight?’
‘A party,’ Chris said, and normally he’d have given him details as to who was going, the music that would be played, what they were eating, but instead he had a question. ‘Bridgette is your girlfriend, isn’t she?’
And normally Dominic would have laughed, would have made Chris laugh with an answer like ‘One of them’, but instead he hesitated. ‘Yes.’
And usually they would have chatted for a bit—until Chris’s Friday night kicked off and he was called out to come and join the party, but instead Chris was far from happy and told Dominic that he had to go and then asked another question.
‘When are you properly coming back?’
‘I’ve told you—I’m coming back soon for a few days,’ Dominic said.
It wasn’t, from Chris’s gruff farewell, a very good answer.
‘Right.’ He came out of his room and saw that Bridgette was writing a note. ‘Finally… Let’s go and get something to eat. I’ve still got the sound of babies crying ringing in my ears.’
‘Actually—’ she turned ‘—my sister just called.’ Back on went that smile. ‘Things didn’t work out in Bendigo and she’s back. She’s a bit upset and she’s asked if I can have Harry tonight. I called and asked my parents, but they’re out.’
‘Oh.’ He tried to be logical. After all, apart from one time in the corridor he’d never even seen Harry, and if her sister was upset, well, she needed to go. And even if more children was the last thing he needed tonight, she really had helped out with Chris and, yes, he did want to see her. ‘We can take him out with us.’
‘It’s nearly eight o’clock,’ Bridgette said, though when Harry was with her sister his bedtime was erratic at best.
‘It’s the Spaniard in me,’ Dominic said.
Courtney, Dominic thought as he sat in the passenger seat while Bridgette collected Harry, didn’t look that upset. But he said nothing as Bridgette drove. They’d gone out in her car because of baby seats and things, but they drove along to the area near his house and parked. It was cool but still light as they walked. She felt more than a little awkward. Walking along, pushing a stroller on a Friday night with Dominic felt terribly strange.
They sat out in a nice pavement café. They were spoiled for choice, but settled for Spanish and ate tapas. It was a lovely evening, but it was cool, even for summer. For Bridgette it was made extra bearable by one of Dominic’s black turtlenecks and a big gas heater blazing above them. It was nice to sit outside and Harry seemed content, especially as Bridgette fed him crema catalana.
Dominic had suggested it, a sort of cold custard with a caramel top, and Harry was loving his first Spanish dessert, but the mood wasn’t as relaxed as it usually was. Dominic was lovely to Harry, there was no question about that, but Bridgette knew this wasn’t quite the night he’d had planned.
‘So, what’s Courtney upset about?’ He finally broached the subject
‘I didn’t really ask.’
‘Does she do this a lot?’
Bridgette shot him a glance. ‘It’s one night, Dominic. I’m sorry for the invasion.’ She was brittle in her defence and he assumed she was comparing him with Paul. She changed the subject. ‘Have you been to Spain?’
‘We used to go there in the summer holidays,’ Dominic sai
d. ‘Well, their winter,’ he clarified, because in Australia summer meant Christmas time. ‘My father had a lot of social things on at that time, you know, what with work, so Chris and I would stay with Abuela.’
‘And your mum?’ Bridgette asked.
Dominic gave her an old-fashioned look, then a wry grin. ‘Nope, she stayed here, looking stunning next to Dad. And I spent a year there when I finished school. I still want to go back, maybe work there for a couple of years at some point. It’s an amazing place.’
And there were two conversations going on, as she ate thick black olives and fried baby squid, and he dipped bread in the most delicious lime hummus, and Harry, full up on the custard, fell asleep.
‘I’d better get him back.’
They walked back along the beach road, a crowded beach full of Friday night fun, except Dominic was pensive. He was trying to remember the world before Chris had come along and Bridgette was for once quiet too.
She drove him back to his place. Harry was still asleep, and she didn’t want to wake him up by coming in. Dominic had to be at work tomorrow, so there was no way really he could stay at hers.
And they kissed in the car, but it was different this time.
‘Not your usual Friday night,’ she said. ‘Home by ten, alone!’
He didn’t argue—she was, after all, speaking the truth.
CHAPTER NINE
RATHER than change things, the situation brought what was already coming to a head.
Dominic didn’t know how best to broach what was on his mind.
He was used to straight talking, but on this Tuesday morning, lying in bed with Bridgette warm and asleep beside him, he didn’t know where to start. He’d been putting this discussion off for a couple of days now, which wasn’t at all like him.
‘Hey, Bridgette.’ He turned and rolled into her, felt her sleepy body start to wake, and he was incredibly tempted to forget what had been on his mind a few seconds ago and to concentrate instead on what was on his mind now. ‘When do you finish?’
‘Mmm…?’ She didn’t want questions, didn’t want to think about anything other than the delicious feel of Dominic behind her. She could feel his mouth nuzzling the back of her neck and she wanted to just sink into the sensations he so readily provided, to let him make love to her, but automatically she reached for the phone that was on her bedside drawer, checked there were no messages she had missed and frowned at how early it was—it wasn’t even six a.m.
‘It’s not even six,’ she grumbled, because they hadn’t got to bed till one—an evening spent watching movies and eating chocolate, laughing and making love, because neither wanted to talk properly.
‘I know that you’re off next weekend, but when do you actually finish?’
‘I’ve got a long weekend starting Thursday at three p.m. precisely.’ She wriggled at the pleasurable thought. ‘I’m not back till Wednesday when I start nights. Why?’
‘Just thinking.’
Though he didn’t want to think at the moment, it could surely wait for now, Dominic decided, because his hands were at her breasts, and how he loved them, and her stomach and her round bottom. She was the first woman he loved waking up with.
It was a strange admission for him, but he usually loathed chatter in the morning. Arabella had driven him mad then too.
‘Do you want coffee?’ Arabella would ask every morning.
It was just the most pointless question.
Okay, maybe not for a one-nighter, but two years on, had she really needed to start each day with the same?
He looked at Bridgette’s back, at the millions of freckles, and she was the one woman who could make him smile even in her sleep. ‘Do you want coffee?’ he said to a dozing Bridgette.
‘What do you think?’ she mumbled, and then… ‘What’s so funny?’ she asked as he laughed and his mouth met her neck.
‘Nothing.’
‘So what are you lying there thinking about?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Dominic?’
He hesitated for an interminable second, his lips hovering over her neck and his hand still on her breast. ‘I’ve been invited for an informal interview.’ He was back at her neck and kissing it deeply. ‘Very informal. It’s just a look around…’
‘In Sydney?’
Her eyes that had been closed opened then. She’d sort of known this was coming. He’d always said he wanted to work there; they’d been seeing each other just a few short weeks and there had been that envelope she’d peeked at.
‘Yep—there’s a position coming up, but not till next year. It’s all very tentative at this stage—they just want me to come and have a look around, a few introductions…’
‘That’s good.’
And that wasn’t the hard bit.
They both knew it and they lay there in silence.
Like an injury that didn’t hurt unless you applied pressure, they’d danced around this issue from day one, avoided it, but they couldn’t keep doing that for ever.
‘Come with me,’ he said. ‘We could have a nice weekend. You could use the break before you start nights.’
She didn’t want to think about it.
Didn’t want to think about him going to Sydney, and there was still something else to discuss. Bridgette knew that, and Dominic knew it too.
There was a conversation to be had but it was easier to turn around, to press her lips into his. ‘Bridgette…’ Dominic pulled back. ‘It would be great.’ He gave her a smile. ‘I won’t inflict my family on you.’
‘What?’ She tried to smile back. ‘You’ll put me in some fancy hotel?’
‘We’ll be staying at my flat,’ Dominic said—and there it was, the fact that he owned a flat in Sydney but he was only renting here. He had a cleaner there, coming in weekly to take care of things while he was temporarily away. ‘Bridgette, you’ve known from the start that was where I was going.’
‘I know that.’
‘It’s only an hour’s flight away.’
She nodded, because his words made sense, perfect sense—it was just a teeny flight, after all—but her life wasn’t geared to hopping on planes.
‘Look,’ Dominic said, ‘let’s just have a weekend away. Let’s not think about things for a while. I’ll book flights. The interview will be a morning at most. I’ll see Chris…’
And so badly she wanted to say yes, to say what the hell, and hop onto a plane, to swim in the ocean, shop and see the sights, to stay in the home of the man she adored, but… ‘I can’t.’
‘You’ve got days off,’ Dominic pointed out.
‘I really need to sort out my flat.’ She did. ‘I’ve been putting it off for ages.’
‘I know,’ Dominic said. ‘Look, why don’t I come round a couple of nights in the week and help with those shelves?’
‘You!’ She actually laughed. ‘Will you bring your drill?’ She saw his tongue roll in his cheek. ‘Bring your stud finder…’ she said, and dug him in the ribs. He would be as hopeless as her, Dominic realised. After all, his dad had never been one for DIY—he wouldn’t know how to change a washer. But it wasn’t the shelves that were the real problem. Yes, it would be so much easier to talk about stud finders, to laugh and to roll into each other as they wanted to, but instead he asked her again.
‘If I can’t do it—’ he had visions of her being knocked unconscious in the night by his handiwork ‘—then I will get someone in and those shelves will be put up on your return,’ he said. ‘But it really would be nice to go away.’
‘I can’t,’ she said, because she simply could not bear to be so far away from Harry. Courtney’s silence was worrying her and it couldn’t be ignored; also, she couldn’t bear to get any closer to Dominic. To open up her heart again—especially to a man who would s
oon be moving away.
‘Look, I have to go back this weekend.’
‘Go, then!’ Bridgette said. ‘I’m not stopping you. I’m just saying that I can’t come.’
‘You could!’ he said. He could see the dominos all lined up, so many times he’d halted them from falling, and he was halting them now, because when talking didn’t work he tried to kiss sense into her. She could feel her breasts flatten against his chest and the heady male scent of him surrounding her, and she kissed him back
ferociously. It was as close as they had come to a row: they were going to have a row in a moment and she truly didn’t want one, knew that neither did he. This way was easier, this way was better, this simply had to happen, because somehow they both knew it was the last time.
He kissed her face and her ears, he pushed her knees apart and they were well past condoms now. He slid into her tight warmth, went to the only place she would come with him and she did. They both did.
It was a regretful orgasm, if there was such a thing, because it meant it was over. It meant they had to climb back out of the place where things were so simple.
‘I think a weekend away would be great.’ He tried again. He’d heard the first click of the dominos falling and still he was trying to halt them. ‘I think we need to get away. Look, if you don’t want to go to Sydney…’ He didn’t want to let down Chris, didn’t want to reschedule the interview, but he didn’t want things to end here. He wanted to give them a chance. ‘We could drive. There’s a few places I want to see along the coast…’
‘I can’t this weekend,’ she said. ‘I told you, I’ve got the flat to sort out. Courtney’s still upset…’
‘Well, when can you?’ And he let them fall. ‘I want to get away on my days off.’ He really did—it had been a helluva weekend at work. He wanted to be as far away from the hospital as possible this next weekend, didn’t want to be remotely available, because he knew that if they called, he’d go in. What was he thinking, driving to the coast when he had an interview, letting down Chris? For what? So that they could stay in and wait for her sister to ring?
Hers For One Night Only? Page 9
