'It's my pleasure. Goodnight, Casey.'
Getting out of the taxi, she watched as it turned round and lifted a hand to wave as it went past. Then stood and watched its lights fading up the road, wondering why Reid hadn't asked if he could see her again and wishing that he had.
CHAPTER TWO
It was with a sense of regret that she wouldn't be seeing Reid again that Casey set off to walk to the main road to catch the bus into Westbridge the next morning. She was intrigued by him, by his sophistication and obvious experience as much as by his looks, but above all by that occasional glimpse of devil-may-care underneath the sophistication. Like a buccaneer in a business suit, she thought fancifully.
The new battery for the car cost more than she expected, swallowing up all the profit she was likely to make from the orders she had managed to get in London yesterday. This was a blow, but the way her luck was going at the moment it could hardly have been otherwise, she thought gloomily. But at least the garage mechanic agreed to go to the car park and fix the new battery on for her, taking her there with him in his van. Reid's car had already gone, but hers was where they had left it last night, and the car park attendant immediately came over and started going off at her for leaving it across three parking spaces. Stung, Casey retaliated at him for going home without checking that there weren't any cars left.
The silly row strangely made her feel better, and she had to admit that it was great to have a car that started easily again. All she wished now was that Reid would phone her and ask her out. With almost any other man, if she fancied him, Casey would have had no hesitation in phoning him to say hello, to talk and let him gather that she was interested. But with Reid she felt strangely reluctant to do that. After all, he was ten or twelve years older than she was, and if he had wanted to ask her out he was quite capable of doing so off his own bat. And yet… Casey remembered how he had told her she was pretty and had asked whether she had a boyfriend; surely that meant something. She decided that it did, and drove home a little faster, eagerly hoping that he would call.
He didn't, of course. Casey waited for a couple of days and then thought, what the hell! and looked up his number in the phone book. She couldn't find a private number for him, but there was a number listed under Lomax Marine at Waterleigh and she guessed that this must be his boat-building company. After dialling the number, her heart beating rather fast, Casey asked for Reid and was put through to his secretary, a woman with an attractive voice. 'I'm sorry, Mr Lomax isn't here at the moment. Can I help you?'
'Er, no, it's a personal call. Will he be back later today or tomorrow?'
'No, he's abroad at the moment and won't be back until next week. Can I take a message for him?'
'Well, yes. Perhaps you could tell him that Miss Casey Everett called?' And she added her phone number.
So that was that. All she could do now was to hope that he would return her call when he came home. In some ways it was rather a relief that he hadn't been there; her only excuse for phoning was to thank him again for helping her and if he had been busy in the office he might just have said that's OK, forget it, but now he might phone when he had time to talk a little more.
Firmly putting Reid out of her mind as much as possible, Casey concentrated on her work, making sure that the orders she had got in London were filled quickly and that the sweaters were absolutely perfect. She just hoped that the stores would pay for them as quickly; running your own business, Casey was beginning to find, was a rather hand-to-mouth existence. Reading her local paper she noticed that a separates shop was opening shortly in a nearby town, so she drove over there and had better luck; the owner gave her an order for three dozen assorted sweaters.
Perhaps my luck's changing, Casey thought optimistically. Perhaps the orders will start rolling in now. And perhaps Reid will phone today.
But it was three days later before her doorbell rang one morning and Casey answered it to find Reid standing on her doorstep. He was more casually dressed this time, in cord trousers and a zip-up jacket, the eye-patch giving him a rakish air. He smiled. 'Hello.'
'Why—hello! Come in.' Casey stood back to let him enter, acutely conscious that she was wearing her working clothes of very faded jeans and baggy sweater, the sleeves pushed up to her elbows. 'In here.' She led him into her small but pleasant sitting-room.
He looked round, liking what he saw, and then turned to her. And some feminine instinct told Casey that he liked what he saw there, too. 'Did you manage to get your car fixed?' he asked.
'Yes, thanks. The garage put a new battery on for me and it's been fine since then.' She realised that he was probably going to ask her why she had phoned, so to forestall him Casey said quickly, 'Would you like a coffee?'
'That would be nice. But if I'm interrupting your work…'
'Oh, no. It's no trouble. I was about to have one myself. It won't take a minute.'
She went out to the kitchen and Reid followed her there, leaning against the door-jamb to watch her. 'The front of your cottage reminds me of a tea-cosy,' he remarked. 'With its red brick and thatched roof.'
Casey laughed. 'That's what I thought the first time I saw it. So I planted some roses on either side of the door to complete the picture.'
She finished making the coffees and picked up the tray to carry it into the sitting-room, but Reid took it from her.
'I'll light the fire.' She put a match to the already laid fire, the wood soon catching and giving a warm, crackling glow to the room.
'How's the sweater business going?' Reid asked lazily.
Picking up her mug of coffee, Casey sat in the armchair opposite his, on the other side of the fire. 'Not too badly. I got another order last week.' As she looked across at him it occurred to her that it was almost like being married, sitting on either side of the fire like this.
'Do you only sell to shops? I wondered if I might buy one from you.'
Her cosy fantasy bursting like a pricked balloon, Casey said stiffly, 'Why yes, of course. I'm afraid they're rather expensive, but I could give you a special price.'
Her change to a businesslike tone brought a flash of amusement to Reid's eyes. 'Thank you, that's very good of you.'
'Not at all. I'm really very grateful to you for helping me out on the night we met. That's what I phoned to tell you, by the way,' she finished rather lamely.
With a grin, Reid said, 'I could cheerfully have murdered you when I got to the car park and found your car right behind mine. If you'd been a man…'
'You would have expressed your feelings rather more forcefully, I take it?' Casey interrupted.
'And some. In fact, I was rather disappointed when you turned out to be a girl. I wasn't able to give full vent to my feelings.'
You were pretty mad, anyway,' Casey pointed out, remembering.
'Was I? I apologise.'
'No, you had a right to be angry. But I thought you really were going to murder me when you found that we were locked in.'
'Mm. But that turned out to be an advantage rather than a calamity. If we hadn't been locked in I would just have driven off and I'd never have got to know you.' He paused while Casey, her heart beating, waited eagerly for him to go on. 'And I would never have been able to come and buy a sweater from you.'
Her face tightened as Casey tried hard not to show her disappointment. She opened her mouth to agree with him, but Reid added, 'For my sister—for her birthday.'
'Your—sister?'
'Yes.'
'Oh! I—I see.'
Their eyes met and it was all there in that one glance; the acknowledgement of the primeval instincts that had made them sexually aware of each other, and the knowledge that they were about to embark on a relationship which might only lead to friendship, but which could develop into much, much more.
It was Casey who looked away first, her cheeks flushed, lips parted as if she was a little breathless. 'Do you know what size your sister is?'
'About a fourteen, I should think.'
&
nbsp; So he knew enough about women to guess their size, did he? Somehow that was a personal thing now, almost a challenge.
'Your—secretary, was it?—said that you were abroad somewhere last week. Was it business or a holiday?'
He gave a twisted kind of smile. 'Hardly a holiday, but not strictly business. I was taking part in a race and managed to get orders for a few boats while I was there. In Munich.'
'Munich? I didn't realise that you went abroad to race.'
Again that amused look, but almost as if he was laughing at himself. 'I suppose you just thought that I went round and round the lake ? No, it's a little more than that.' Finishing his coffee, he said, 'Where do you work?'
'There's a room at the back. Perhaps you'd—like to see?'
'Very much.' Reid stood up. 'Then I'll be able to choose that sweater.'
They went into the extended back room of the cottage where Casey had her three knitting-machines, and a large drawing-board where she sat and worked out her designs. She was in the process of working on one at the moment and Reid asked her several questions about it, surprising her by how quickly he understood. 'Why three machines?' he asked her. 'You can only work on one at a time, surely?'
'Yes, but the machines do different things, and quite often when I'm trying out a design I might try different ways of doing it. Also if I'm working on a garment and I get an idea for something else I can try it out on another machine.'
Reid nodded approvingly. 'It's always a good idea to try and develop a new idea as soon as you think of it, otherwise you often tend to lose it again. How many different designs do you have?'
'About ten basic designs, but I do variations on them, vary the colours and textures of the wool, or put different belts or buttons on them, so that it actually appears as if there's a much wider range. I like women to feel that they're wearing something that's individual, that they won't go out and run the risk of seeing one exactly the same.' She took out some sweaters to demonstrate what she meant and Reid moved closer to her to look. Casey went on explaining how she worked, but she was very conscious of his closeness, of his height and bulk, and the sheer masculinity of him.
He asked questions, too. Pertinent questions, not just the usual commonplace ones. And because Reid showed an intelligent interest, Casey was soon talking animatedly, her hazel eyes sparkling with enthusiasm, her cheeks a little flushed. Once she turned to Reid as she showed him a sweater, but found him looking at her instead, an absorbed expression on his face. Her voice dying in her throat, Casey gazed up at him. Slowly Reid reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. Her heart beating, Casey waited for him to kiss her, but his hand merely tightened a moment before he carried on with the conversation. Struggling to hide an intense feeling of disappointment, she answered him as best she could, but the animation in her face had died a little.
Reid chose a sweater for his sister, one with little pearl buttons on the sleeves, in a soft blue that he said would match his sister's eyes. And he paid for it there and then, in cash, too, which was very useful. He moved towards the door, but Casey, not wanting him to go, had an inspiration and said, 'Shall I gift-wrap it for you?'
'Could you? That would be great. I'm afraid I'm all thumbs when it comes to that kind of thing.'
'Of course. I know I've got some pretty paper somewhere.' Leading the way back into the sitting-room, Casey took the paper from an old bow-fronted chest of drawers and knelt on the floor to wrap it for him and add a bow of silk ribbon. 'There. Will that be OK?'
'It will be fine.' Reaching down a hand, Reid helped her to her feet, slowly drawing her up beside him. He gazed intently into her face, desire sharpening his features, then gave a small exclamation and pulled her almost roughly into his arms to kiss her.
From the moment his lips touched hers it felt right. And sensuous. And exhilarating. There was no thought of resistance as Casey put her arms round his neck, returning his kiss avidly, her mouth opening as soon as he demanded it until she felt as if she were being carried along on a long, delicious tidal wave of sensuality. Reid's hands moved down her back to her waist, holding her against him as his tongue hungrily explored the soft recesses of her mouth, his eagerness awakening a sharp awareness deep inside her.
He was very experienced. Although he kissed her so demandingly, he did so with the knowledge that could come only from experience, his lips, his tongue, teasing and titillating, one moment giving, the next taking, and savouring her response. And Casey had never before given herself so overwhelmingly to a man, without any reserve, only living for the moment and never wanting it to end.
So it was Reid who at length drew back, his breathing a little uneven, his one eye glittering down at her. 'Well, well, well,' he said on a dawning note of realisation that was almost a sigh.
Her cheeks flushed, Casey said, 'What does that mean?'
Reid gave a small laugh. 'It means a hell of a lot of things, but mostly that I got a lot more than I bargained for.' Feeling that she had been too responsive, Casey began to draw away, but he held her still, saying reassuringly, 'Which I'm very happy to admit.'
'And what else?'
Bringing up a finger he tapped her gently on the nose. 'Maybe I'll tell you some other time.' He smiled down at her. 'Now, what was that list of things you liked? Eating out, dancing, the theatre and the cinema, wasn't that it? Well, why don't we work our way through the list, and start by going out to dinner? Can you make tomorrow night?' And when Casey nodded, her face glowing, he went on, 'OK, I'll pick you up at seven.'
He left then, but Casey was far too excited to settle back to her work. She kept breaking off to gaze dreamily into space, working out what she would wear tomorrow, wondering where Reid would take her, but most of all remembering how exciting it had been to be held in his arms, and how she could have gone on kissing him for ever, a feeling so new that she was almost afraid to dwell on it.
Casey thought of Reid often during the rest of that day and the next, and by seven was ready and waiting, her hair newly washed, and wearing a red and white print dress that she knew suited her. It was just as well she was ready, because Reid was almost ten minutes early. She opened the door to him and he walked straight into her tiny hall, took her in his arms and kissed her so hard that Casey had to renew her lipstick before they could go out. 'I missed you,' he said softly, his fingers running down her cheek.
'But you only saw me yesterday.'
'It seems like a week.'
Which was extremely flattering to Casey's ego and set the tune for the whole of that wonderful evening, and all the times he took her out over the next few weeks. As he had promised, Reid took her to all the places she liked: restaurants, the cinema, to a dinner and dance, and once up to London for the theatre and a meal afterwards. Just to be with him was heady enough, but Casey liked it best when he took her dancing. He was a good dancer and could do the traditional ballroom dances like quicksteps and foxtrots as well as the modern stuff. Which was fun, but nowhere near as good as when the band played slow numbers and he held her close while they danced, their bodies often touching, their heads just a kiss away, her hand tightly held in his. So satisfying and yet so tantalising at the same time.
Casey noticed that people often turned to look at them, some of the women's glances openly admiring Reid, and always with that touch of curiosity because of his bad eye, which gave him such a rakish air. But he would have attracted women's glances anyway, Casey guessed, because he was so tall and good-looking. She was still a little in awe of him, although that lessened every time they went out together, but she hadn't yet summoned up the courage to ask him about his eye, how he had hurt it.
He never mentioned it himself, and she was afraid that he might be sensitive about it, although it certainly didn't stop him from doing anything; he was an extremely good driver, the patch in no way impairing his ability.
There was something slightly enigmatic about him, too. Although he was easy and relaxed enough most of the time, she would sometimes cat
ch him unawares and surprise a closed expression on his face, and feel that part of him was hidden from her, that there were forces inside him that he concealed from the rest of the world.
He kissed her often during those weeks, before he had to go abroad again, his kisses lifting her into a temporary state of blissful pleasure, but awakening a growing need, a longing for fulfilment that kisses couldn't satisfy. But Reid didn't do more than kiss and caress her whenever he came into the cottage to say goodnight. Sometimes he didn't even come in, but merely kissed her goodbye in the car and then walked her to her gate. But in some ways this added to the excitement of going out with him, this feeling that he was the master of the situation and in control of it, that he wouldn't go further until he felt it right and not before. And the knowledge that when he did it would be all the more wonderful for having waited.
While Reid was away, in Stockholm this time, Casey paid a belated visit to her family home. Her parents lived in Norfolk, in a house not far from the east coast, a flat area of land that was pleasant in summer but where the wind blew coldly off the sea during winter, so that the region was less populated than most of England; a fact that had forced Casey to move away to the more populated south to find outlets for her work. Casey went up there for the weekend, and at dinner that evening sat down with her parents and her younger brother, Mark, and told them all about the ups and downs of her business life.
'And I've had orders for another fifty sweaters from one of the London stores I went to,' she told them happily. 'It seems that they sold out of the half-dozen that they originally ordered within two days.'
'That is good,' her mother agreed. 'You'll be another Laura Ashley before you're finished.' She looked at her daughter shrewdly. 'And you seem very happy; you've got more colour in your cheeks than you had. Are you getting out a bit more ? Not concentrating on work all the time.'
'No, I've been going out a lot. I went up to London to the theatre last week.'
Mark laughed. 'Spending all your profits, eh?'
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