Runaway Groom

by Sally Clements

  “Sorry, love. But everything here is smoke-damaged.” The fire chief’s face was covered in black smears. “I’m afraid you won’t be able to stay here.”

  “For how long?” Her voice was no louder than a whisper.

  He shook his head. Whistled in air through his teeth. “Obviously you’ll need access to remove your possessions. But it’ll be weeks.”

  April looked at the ground and rubbed her face. “If the fire didn’t penetrate the apartment...”

  Elizabeth spoke. “Downstairs is gutted, April. The whole building’s structure may well be unsafe.” Her eyes filled with tears. “The insurance will cover everything in the apartment of course, but rebuilding—” She broke off in a sob.

  To Matthew’s amazement, April walked over to the older woman and put her arm around her shoulders. “Do you have anyone here for you?” Her voice was filled with concern.

  In the midst of her own tragedy, rather than blaming the other woman or indulging in a totally justified pity-party, she was concerned for someone else. He shouldn’t really be surprised, April had always been selfless.

  “My husband is outside.” Elizabeth wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her sweatshirt. “I’m so sorry, April. All your stuff...” She looked at the table stacked with threads and material. The rack of clothing. “Your collection...”

  April pulled in a deep breath. Her spine straightened, as though someone had pulled her shoulders back. “There’s not much I can do tonight.” She turned to the fire chief. “Can I get back in here tomorrow to organize removing my things?”

  “I’ll be here at nine,” he said.

  Matthew rested his hand on her shoulder. “Pack a bag.”

  There was no protesting, no more talk of going to find a friend to stay with for tonight. Her head jerked, then she walked into the bedroom.

  Matthew pulled a couple of business cards from his pocket, and jotted numbers on the back of both. He handed one to Elizabeth and one to the chief. “April will be staying with me. These are my numbers.”

  Chapter Five

  Matthew didn’t speak as he drove the powerful car through the rain-dashed streets.

  April wrapped her arms around the rucksack of clothes and essentials she’d hastily packed. A faint scent of smoke clung to everything. She tugged the drawstring open. Pulled an inch of her tee-shirt from the bag and smelled it. The smell of smoke was so much stronger, they’d be no way she could wear any of this stuff without washing it.

  “Have you a washing machine?”

  Matthew’s gaze didn’t waver from the road. His tanned hands were relaxed on the wheel. Through the whole ordeal he’d been steady and calm, a rock in a rapidly shifting sea of shocks.

  “Yes, and a dryer. I’ll put them in when we get home, so you can have something clean and fresh to wear tomorrow.”

  “You’re very kind to—”

  “Forget it.” His jaw tightened. “Anyone would do the same.”

  Not everyone. Once, sitting in a coffee shop, April had spotted a woman who’d made her life hell in school. They hadn’t seen each other for years, and doubtless the adult was very different to the bratty kid she’d once been. She was dressed in skyscraper heels, and clutching a tray laden with salad and latte. With every teetering step she risked tripping. And with her hands unable to save herself, she’d face-plant for sure.

  April thought about how she would react should her idle daydream become reality. If a stranger fell, she’d instantly dash from her seat and help her up. Sympathy would well up from nowhere as she identified with a stranger’s plight. It had happened before.

  But with someone she knew—someone who’s cruel nature and mean jibes had hurt her? She’d leave her lying.

  Despite the fact her family had no time for Matthew, that she had shunned his sister, unwilling to even talk about the end of their siblings relationship, Matthew had proffered a hand of friendship which she really didn’t deserve.

  At his house, Matthew showed her to the spare room. He opened the wardrobe and rooted around for a moment, then placed two items of clothing on the bed. “These are Amy’s. Why don’t you get dressed? I’ll make some cocoa and put your clothes in the machine.”

  With a grimace at the stench of smoke, April separated her clothing from her other possessions and handed them over.

  “I’ll see you downstairs.” Arms laden, Matthew retreated.

  I’m so damned tired.

  April stripped off her dress and underwear and dressed in the worn cotton onesie.

  The grey sweatshirt must have been one of Matthews, it reached her knees, but she didn’t care about her appearance. Not while everything that constituted her world was lost.

  She found a pair of Amy’s fur-lined slippers in the wardrobe, slipped them on, and went downstairs.

  Matthew stood in front of a blazing fire. Even though they were gas generated, the flickering flames were mesmerizingly real.

  He pointed to the table in front of the fire. “Cocoa’s here.” He’d even put out a few oversize chocolate chip cookies on a blue plate.

  “Nice onesie.” He smiled. “Ducks look good on you.”

  Never in her wildest dreams would she have bought nightclothes with yellow plastic ducks printed on them.

  “It’s comfortable.” She sank onto the sofa and reached for the mug, curling her fingers around its welcome warmth. She should thank him, tell him she’d be out of his hair soon, but right now all she wanted to do was close her eyes and wish this whole stinking situation away. There were so many things to do. She’d have to talk to the insurance people, find somewhere else to live, find another job...

  The list was overwhelming. Endless. She’d said she could stay with a friend, but both of her close friends lived in one-bedroom flats. There wouldn’t be room for any of her stuff, and even though they’d happily take her in, it would be a terrible imposition. If she had any relatives in England she could prevail on them, but all her family lived across the sea.

  “You’re frowning.” Matthew sat next to her.

  “I’m just trying to…” It was too difficult to put into words. There were too many things to think about.

  “Drink your cocoa before it goes cold.” Matthew drank his, leaving a milky chocolate trail across his top lip.

  She couldn’t stop staring.

  Matthew’s eyes darkened. He cupped her cheek. “What?” His deep voice was just a murmur. Attraction hung in the air. Reflections cast by the flickering flames in the darkened room changed the shadows on the side of Matthew’s face.

  April held her breath. If she said nothing, if she leaned forward he would kiss her. Part of her wanted him to more than anything.

  He leaned in. “You have milk on your top lip.” She pulled back.

  “Ah.” He wiped his lip. “Milk moustache, huh?”

  She breathed out. Tried for casual to lighten the moment. “It’s a good look on you.”

  He took another deliberate drink, letting the foam cover his lip again. “Sexy?” he murmured. His fingers smoothed over her soft skin, then slid into her hair. His gaze held hers as he swiped the foam away with his tongue, leaving his mouth clear.

  April swallowed. Yes, it was sexy. He was beyond sexy. Taking what she wanted, what she needed couldn’t be bad—anyone could forgive her under the circumstances. Her chin tilted up.

  His hand cupped the back of her head, bringing her closer. Her eyelids fluttered closed a moment before his lips met hers.

  She’d needed comfort. The touch of his mouth against hers gave a lot more. Maybe it was because of all the men in the world, he was the one she couldn’t have. Maybe it was something different. As her mouth opened and their tongues tangled, she gave up wondering and just let herself feel. She breathed him in with every exhale, the scent of citrus, vetiver maybe, mixed with man. He held her face so tenderly her heart melted.

  She wanted to touch him, had to touch him. Her hands lifted from her lap to his chest, sliding over the soft cotton of
his tee shirt to the warm skin of his neck, then up to his jawline. There was a trace of stubble beneath her questing fingertips,

  The kiss intensified. Sitting close to him with her head twisted to his was unsatisfying, not close enough. April wanted to stand up and climb onto his lap, to press her chest against his, to feel his corded thighs beneath her. God, the man could kiss. A knot dissolved in her stomach as his mouth’s ministrations, flooding heat downwards. Her body was on fire, desperate for him.

  Her hand slid into his hair, and she tugged him closer, leaning back. Encouraging him to lie on top of her.

  Matthew pulled his mouth from hers, breathing heavily. “I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have.” Desire burned in his eyes.

  It would be easy to let him take the blame. Easy, but cowardly.

  April’s breath shuddered in and out as she struggled for air. She pulled her hands back, but he caught them in his.

  “April, I…”

  “I wanted you to kiss me.” There was no denying the truth. “I still want it.”

  “You’re upset.” Just that easily, he handed her a get-out-of-jail-free card. His hands squeezed hers. “Worried about everything.” He shifted back on the sofa, increasing the space between them. “Tomorrow we’ll get everything sorted out. You can move in here.”

  “Just because I wanted to kiss you, doesn’t mean…”

  “I know it doesn’t.” He stood and walked to the fire. “We should just put this…” he waved a hand backward and forward between them, “down to a moment of madness. A moment that won’t be repeated. I own this entire building and the upper two floors aren’t furnished. There is plenty of room to store your stuff, and you can set up your workshop on the third floor to remake your damaged collection.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You can.” He walked over and stood before her. “What other choice do you have?”

  *****

  Matthew woke early, scrawled April a note, and decided that rather than run the risk of meeting up with her over the breakfast table, he’d go into work early and stop in for breakfast on the way.

  He sat in the diner in front of an Irish breakfast with a large mug of tea, and stared out of the window. When he’d taken her to dinner he’d been ready for her to try and bring up the wedding again, but she hadn’t. Being with her brought back memories of the friendship they’d had when she was just a kid. In a lot of ways he wished it could have stayed like that, it would be a lot less complicated. Instead, he’d been captivated by the small dent appearing in her cheek every time she smiled. The plain black dress she wore shouldn’t have made his pulse race, but the wide belt had emphasized her waist, and the curve of her hips in a way impossible to ignore.

  Later, at her apartment, the way she’d kept her feelings in check so as to deal with the disaster had been beyond impressive. If only she hadn’t changed into the damned onesie.

  With a sigh, Matthew swallowed the dregs of his tea. She’d looked so cute, so vulnerable, he hadn’t been able to resist. The moment their lips met, an overwhelming need had come out of nowhere, blindsiding him. The absolute last thing he needed in his life was an entanglement with June’s sister. But with her living in his house, how could he avoid it?

  *****

  The following morning, April rang around to find a solution. Marie had offered her sofa, but nowhere to store her collection, never mind room to work on it. Calling Eliza was difficult with her fingers crossed, but she managed it.

  After a few minutes explanation, she popped the question. “I need somewhere to stay.”

  “You’re welcome to come to me,” Eliza said. “But you know I have workmen taking up the floor in the spare room.”

  Damn. She’d forgotten all about the dry rot rampaging through Eliza’s flat like a forest fire.

  “I could put you up on the sofa, but all the furniture from the spare room is in there, so you’d have to squeeze in between the wardrobe and the wall.”

  “I forgot.” April wracked her brain for other alternatives and came up empty. There were places she could rent, but without a job her finances wouldn’t run to a regular rent check. “Thanks, honey. I’ll work something out.”

  It looked as if Matthew had been right. She had no choices.

  She’d called her friends early before they left for work. Hunger gnawed a hole in her stomach, so she padded downstairs.

  There was a note propped up on the coffee machine. In it, Matthew again offered his home. She slotted a couple of pieces of bread in the toaster and sat down to brood.

  She’d have to stay with Matthew.

  The compulsion to kiss him yesterday had been building all evening. The intense way he looked at her, the way his mouth curved when they were flirting, the way his broad shoulders filled out his white shirt, all had combined in a slow burn she’d had no hope of extinguishing once passion ignited.

  He’d given her an easy out by brushing away the kiss as an aberration. When he’d said it wouldn’t happen again, the primary emotion she’d felt was regret rather than relief. She didn’t trust herself around him. Living with him could very well be dangerous, not because of anything he might do, but because of what she might.

  April tucked her hair behind her ears. She needed to think about June.

  Whatever money she had managed to save would have to go toward material to remake her collection. She hadn’t bought the material for June’s wedding dress yet, she’d ordered it, but now she wouldn’t have the money to pay.

  She straightened her spine and rang her sister.

  “Hey! How are you?” June’s breezy tones chipped through April’s defenses.

  “Pretty awful, actually. There was a fire last night in the coffee shop.” There was no point in sugar-coating the situation. “The apartment was damaged. This morning I’m homeless and jobless.”

  “Oh no! My dress…”

  June’s first thought was about was her dress. No questions about where April was living, how she’d make ends meet…

  “The toile is intact, and I’m waiting for the silk to come in, everything is okay with your dress.” Apart from the fact I can’t pay for the material.

  “Oh that’s great.” There was silence for a moment. “You’ll get another job easily though, right? After all there must be a million coffee shops in London.”

  “The thing is, June, I can’t pay for the silk.” April held her breath, hoping June wouldn’t make her beg. “I have to remake my collection, it was smoke damaged.”

  “Oh.” There was a chill in June’s voice. “Oh, so you want me…”

  “I need you to buy the material.”

  “How much is it?” She’d never asked how much the material she’d insisted on was when April was paying. Irritation niggled. April pulled out her black notebook, unwrapped the elastic holding the pages in place, and searched it for the dress costings.

  When she revealed the price, June gasped. “Wow, it’s really expensive.”

  “Yes, it is.” She was buying the material at cost. If June had asked any other designer to make her dress, there was no way she’d be able to get it so cheap. “The best thing would be if you could transfer the money into my bank account. They’ll need to be paid next week.”

  “My cash flow…”

  June was making excuses?

  “I can’t buy it,” April said. “I have lost my flat, my job, and my collection has been smoke damaged. As it is, I’m going to have to buy more material for my collection, not to mention…”

  “Fine. Fine.” June spoke quickly. “I’ll get the money from Dad or Michael. You’ll have to give me a few days though. I hadn’t budgeted for this.”

  Neither had I. The thought burned through April’s mind. I hadn’t budgeted for having to refinance my entire life in an instant.

  “Good. I’ll email you my bank details.”

  “Do that,” June said in a tone so harsh she might as well have said the very opposite. “Listen, I have to go. I’ll talk to you next wee
k.” She hung up.

  April felt as though she’d been shot full of anesthetic. Her senses were dulled as though her head was full of cotton wool, and her heart ached as if someone had removed it from her chest and pounded it with a hammer. Not once had June offered help or showed concern for April’s plight. She’d meant to tell June about how she’d met up with Matthew, about how he’d offered her somewhere to stay. But June was plainly not interested.

  For the first time, the complaints her friends had voiced about her sister’s selfishness rang true.

  Chapter Six

  April was sitting at the kitchen table nursing a mug of coffee when Matthew walked in.

  “You’re up early.” For the past week she’d still been asleep when he left for work.

  She jabbed at the newspaper open in front of her with a pen. Some of the small ads were circled. “This morning, I’m looking for a job.” Her mouth twisted in a strangled semblance of a smile. “I need to make a contribution to the household.”

  “What have you got so far?” He pulled up a chair.

  “There are a few places looking for baristas.”

  He reached for the page and scanned it. “All of these are looking for full-time. And there’s nothing local. Can you spare the time? I thought you needed to remake everything.”

  She chewed on her bottom lip. “I do. I can work at night though. I’ll try and keep the noise to a minimum.”

  For the past couple of nights the steady hum of the sewing machine had filled the silent house. She’d purchased all the material she’d need, but rather than farm out the manufacturing to a seamstress, had been carefully remaking each piece of the collection. He didn’t know why she wasn’t getting help, but suspected it came down to finances. She was obviously broke.

  “You’re crazy.” He leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms. “I have a solution.”

  Her head tilted and her eyes narrowed.

  “You can work for me.”

  April shook her head. “I don’t know anything about your business.”