It did sound rather perfect. But the mischief in his expression told her that wasn’t it.
‘Liverpool?’
‘You have a hankering to do the Beatles tour? Visit the Albert Docks? I hear it’s great now it’s been renovated.’
‘I do like the Beatles.’
‘Really? I’ll file that away for future reference.’
‘What under? Old-fashioned taste in music?’ she grumped, getting ever so slightly wound up now.
‘Old-fashioned, are you kidding me? They’re ageless.’
‘But we won’t be visiting the Beatles museum this weekend.’
‘No.’ He turned to glance at her. ‘Does it really matter where we’re heading? Can’t you sit there and relax for a few hours?’
‘How many hours? Does that mean we’ll be beyond Liverpool?’
He let out a huff of exasperation. ‘Mags, turn your brain off and the radio on. It’s basic, but I’m sure it plays Radio 1.’ He smirked. ‘Or Radio 2.’
‘Fine.’ She twiddled with the nobs, finding Radio 2 because yes, she did prefer that. Lying back against the headrest, she thought about what he’d said. Did the destination matter? The answer came to her immediately. It didn’t, because all she actually wanted from the weekend was some time with Seb. A man who made her laugh, made her relax, and made her feel.
As the junctions came and went, Seb glanced over at Maggie, relieved to see she’d closed her eyes. Boy, was he now regretting making the destination a surprise. He thought it would add to the fun of it all, but instead not knowing seemed to have wound her up.
Worse, she’d started to guess, coming up with places she clearly would have liked to go.
Shame the place he’d booked them into wasn’t one of them. And now he thought about it, why would it be? A seaside town that, even in the summer, wouldn’t be on most people’s list of top ten places to visit in England.
Indicating, he turned off the motorway, following the signs to the promenade. He wasn’t flush with cash, but as February was clearly not the time of year to visit the place, he’d got a good deal in one of the traditional old hotels on the front. Even splashed out a few quid more for a view of the murky Irish sea.
As he pulled into a car park space and killed the engine, Maggie stirred. Then sat up with a start. ‘God, did I really go to sleep?’ She looked mortified. ‘Some company I am.’ It was only then it seemed to occur to her that they’d stopped. ‘Are we here?’ Her head spun round, taking in the huge red brick Victorian building in front of them. The hotel looked impressive from the outside, at least. When she looked the other way, towards the sea, she drew in a sharp breath.
‘It’s Blackpool, isn’t it? We’re spending the weekend in Blackpool.’
Surprise he could read, but was it good surprise or bad surprise? ‘It’s what I’d planned, yes, but we can abandon it and go to Liverpool or the Lakes for that matter.’
‘So I have a choice of wandering round the docks, climbing a small mountain or…?’ She was smiling at him, a glint in her eye.
‘Or we’re booked to have afternoon tea and a spin around the Blackpool Tower Ballroom at four p.m.’
‘Oh my God, Seb.’ Her eyes lit up, a huge grin splitting her face. ‘I’m going to be dancing in Blackpool.’
‘Better hope we make a better job of it than we did at the youth centre.’
‘Oh, we will, of course we will. How can I not dance brilliantly in the Blackpool Tower Ballroom?’ She yanked open the door and jumped out of the car. ‘Come on, what are you waiting for? We’ve only got an hour.’
Amused, he climbed out and hauled their cases out of the boot. ‘You told me you dismissed the place as too tacky when you drove through it.’
‘Paul dismissed it, not me. I wanted to come when the girls were small, but he said, and I quote, “Blackpool is full of stag parties, drunks and fish and chip shops.”’
Seb held the door open for her as they stepped inside the hotel. ‘He’s probably not wrong.’
Maggie halted, gazing up at him. ‘Yet you brought me here anyway.’
He felt another flicker of doubt. ‘I thought you’d enjoy dancing in the ballroom.’
Her arms wrapped around his neck, and he dropped the bags on the floor so he could hold her. ‘I will enjoy the ballroom. I’ll also enjoy the rest of the tower, the sea, the slot machines, the fish and chips.’ She went on her tiptoes to kiss him. ‘I’ll enjoy it all, because I’m here with you.’
‘Christ, Mags.’ His arms tightened around her, and he felt himself falling that little bit further in love. It wasn’t what she wanted from him, yet he was powerless to stop it. He didn’t even want to stop it, because it felt so right. Like his world was suddenly starting to make sense. ‘That hour we’ve got?’ He whispered, his hands slipping lower than was decent in a hotel foyer. ‘I’m going to need thirty minutes of it with you, and a bed.’
They ended up having to run along the prom to get to the ballroom in time, the wind whipping in their faces, Maggie’s laughter echoing around them. Any lingering doubts he’d had about bringing the sophisticated, elegant Maggie Peterson to Blackpool were squashed the moment they stepped into the ballroom.
She gazed around in awe at the rows of balconies, laughed giddily, then spun around the polished wood floor like a big kid, as he imagined Tabby would do.
‘It’s spectacular. Look at the ceiling, I don’t think the television cameras ever showed us how incredible that is. The paintings, all that intricate gold carving.’ Her eyes darted around the room, as if she couldn’t bear to miss a single detail. ‘And the chandeliers, they’re amazing. I’ve never really noticed them before.’
‘They lower them to the floor to clean. Takes them over a week.’
There was a beat of silence, and then he heard giggling, quiet at first, but getting louder as she clearly tried to stop herself, and couldn’t. ‘You’ve been reading up on the ballroom.’
‘I might have done.’
She nudged him in the ribs. ‘Why? Did you want to impress me?’
‘Did it work?’
He expected some further ribbing, but instead she sighed and reached for his right hand, holding it in both of hers. ‘You brought me to a place I’ve longed to come, but in the rush of day-to-day life, had forgotten I could. You read up on it to impress me.’ He felt her hands squeeze his. ‘I don’t know what to say, how to thank you.’
His heart feeling full, he bent to touch her forehead with his. ‘You don’t have to. Being here with you is my reward, trust me.’ Because his throat was now clogged with emotion, he drew in a breath and took a deliberate step back. ‘Of course if you really want to thank me, I can think of a few ways. Some of which will involve taking off that sexy red underwear I know you’re wearing.’
She laughed. ‘That sounds like a reward for me, too, but first—’ She nodded over to the tables, draped with blue tablecloths and each furnished with a large cake stand overflowing with sandwiches and scones. ‘First we have to make our way through that, and then dance it all off.’
Chapter Twenty-Seven
For the first time in years, far more years than she’d been divorced, Maggie woke to find herself being cuddled from behind. Paul hadn’t been a cuddler, even when he’d supposedly been in love with her.
Seb liked to put his arms around her, both in and out of bed. It was a sensation Maggie was becoming addicted to.
‘Morning.’ He rolled her over so she was facing him. Hair a shaggy mess, eyes the blue of the Indian ocean, he looked like a hot dream. ‘I thought you’d never wake up.’
She’d slept like the dead. That’s what sea air, sex and a bottle of champagne did for you. They’d smuggled two bags of greasy fish and chips back into their room the night before, along with the champagne. It had been a perfect end to a perfect day. A day where she’d thought of her daughters, of how much they would have enjoyed it, but the thoughts hadn’t consumed her. ‘You could have woken me up.’
�
�You looked far too peaceful.’ He shifted, pressing himself against her so she could feel every inch of his hot, naked body. ‘Especially for what I had in mind to do to you.’
She smiled up at him. ‘Well, I’m awake now.’
‘Umm.’ He threw back the duvet, his eyes trailing over her breasts, across her stomach and down to her hips. A small smile broke across his face when he came across her small butterfly tattoo. ‘Did I tell you how much I love this? And what a shock it was to find it?’
‘It was a shock to me too, when I woke up the next morning.’ She cringed, remembering the horror of finding the permanent reminder of the alcohol-fueled freshers night. ‘I’d just started at uni, and for the first time in my life I felt like I could really, I don’t know, let loose somehow. Only I went too far.’
‘No way.’ His lips settled over the tattoo, kissing it, licking it. ‘It’s beautiful, and surprising.’ His eyes met hers. ‘Just like you.’
An hour later they sat in the dining room with a full English in front of them; reason one hundred and seventy-two she was glad she’d come to Blackpool. Maggie looked out at the choppy grey sea.
‘It’s not quite the Whitsundays, is it?’
Seb laughed, the rich, carefree sound fast becoming one of her favourite things to listen to. ‘I don’t fancy taking groups to scuba dive in it, that’s for sure. Considering we’re in Blackpool, in February, I’m just grateful it’s not raining.’
She wanted to ask him again if he missed his other life, like she had that day he’d come round to help Penny with her homework, but she was too afraid of the answer. Instead she took a sip of her tea and made a vow to focus on now, rather than the uncertain future.
‘So, yesterday we ticked off all the things you mentioned, I think?’ Seb spoke into the silence. ‘We danced in the ballroom, walked by the sea, played the slot machines and ate fish and chips.’
Ah, the ballroom. Automatically a smile tugged at her. It had been more beautiful, more ornate than she’d imagined. And dancing in it, dancing with Seb, had been sublime.
‘Mags?’
‘Sorry, I was thinking I must bring the girls to see the ballroom. They’d go nuts.’
Seb smiled. ‘I can just see Tabby hanging from a chandelier.’ His eyes dipped to his plate and when they met hers again, he seemed… not quite nervous, but perhaps uncertain. ‘What I was trying to say was I have an idea of what we can do today, but it wasn’t on your list.’
‘Oh?’
‘The Pleasure Beach is open this weekend, I think because it’s the start of half-term.’ He paused. ‘And I seem to remember promising you a ride on the rollercoaster.’
‘Oh no, no way.’ The sausage and bacon she’d just eaten felt like a congealed, greasy lump in her stomach.
‘Hey, I’m not going to force you.’ His eyes sought hers, his gaze steady. ‘I do think we should go to the Pleasure Beach, though. If only so I can win you a big fluffy something and you can carry it around as proof of my manly prowess at hooking a duck, or whatever it is they do now.’
The unease lessened – fairground games she could do – but it didn’t go away. A guy like Seb, he’d want to go on the rides. What was she supposed to do – send him on his way and sit in the café with a hot chocolate? Yet the thought of going on them turned her stomach.
They checked out of the hotel after breakfast, put the cases in the car and took a tram along the prom to the South Shore.
‘Pleasure Beach sounds entirely the wrong name for the place,’ she muttered as she looked up at the monster rollercoaster.
Seb laughed, throwing an arm around her shoulders. ‘Come on, let’s find some ducks to hook, or some tin cans to demolish.’ He winked at her. ‘Then we can tackle the rides.’
Maybe he meant it as a joke, but Maggie’s stomach turned over, and a tiny bit of the joy she’d felt from waking up with him left her.
An hour after they’d arrived, they sat in the café, Maggie with a giant bumble bee on her lap.
Seb smirked. ‘Look at the smile on the dude’s face. He’s clearly happy sitting on your lap. Can’t say I blame him.’
‘The feeling’s mutual.’ She gave the bee’s antennae a gentle tug. ‘I’m looking forward to taking him home. The girls will love him.’
Seb glanced at his watch. ‘Well, speaking of home, we’d better head off soon. Just enough time to do the rollercoaster.’
The bottom fell out of her stomach and she tightened her grip on the bee. ‘I told you, I can’t do it. I’m sorry. I’m the wrong person for you to bring here.’
A rare flash of irritation crossed his face. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘I like control, Seb. I don’t even drive over the speed limit. I’ve never whizzed down a hill on a bike without clinging to the brakes. I’ve never been skiing because the thought of hurtling down a mountainside terrifies me.’
‘You enjoyed tobogganing.’
‘Yes, because you asked me which hill we should go down and I chose the one with the gentle slope.’ She tried to rein in her panic. ‘Why on earth would you think I’d want to plummet through the air upside down on a rickety rollercoaster?’
He didn’t reply immediately. Instead he glanced down at his coffee cup, turning it round and round on the table. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer. ‘The woman I dance the rumba with, she doesn’t need control. She lets go. Just like the Maggie who got that tattoo.’
‘I was nineteen and drunk.’
‘Maybe drunk you, the person with her defences lowered, her control switched off. Maybe she’s more like the real you than you think.’
‘Or maybe she’s the woman you want me to be.’
His gaze snapped to hers. ‘You think I want to change you? That I don’t think you’re absolutely bloody perfect, just as you are?’ He dragged a restless hand through his hair. ‘All I’m saying is I think you’ve spent so long having to be sensible, you’ve suppressed the part of you that wants to be a little crazy, a little wild now and again.’
His expression was so earnest, it was hard to hold on to her anger. ‘You make me both.’
He huffed out a laugh. ‘Yeah, I’m sure I drive you crazy.’ Reaching across the table, he touched her hand. ‘Just one ride, and then we’ll head back. Do you trust me to find one you’ll enjoy?’
Trust was something she’d taken for granted, giving it easily, until Paul had broken it. Yet Seb hadn’t given her any reason to doubt him. ‘I trusted you to plan this weekend, and look how that turned out.’ She glanced down at the bee. ‘But what about him?’
‘He’s used to flying through the air, he’ll be fine.’ She must have blanched, because he laughed. ‘I’m kidding, come on.’ He stood, holding out his hand. Taking a deep breath, she clung onto it and allowed herself to be led outside.
Maggie was still laughing as they climbed into the car.
‘Hey, you were supposed to find that scary,’ he told her as they buckled their seat belts.
‘Looping the loop is scary. Ghosts and Dracula I can cope with.’ She reached out and touched his cheek, her eyes bright. ‘Thank you, the Ghost Train was the perfect end to a perfect weekend.’
He couldn’t resist. He bent to kiss her, groaning as she opened so easily for him. Would he ever have enough of this woman? So damn beautiful, so smart, yet so careful and guarded. He loved the two sides of her: the confident professional, the cautious lover. When he drew back, his heart was thumping, his mind full of words he wanted to say, yet knew would scare her off.
‘What is it?’
Maggie’s eyes regarded him questioningly, and Seb knew he couldn’t hold back. It wasn’t in his nature. ‘I think I got it wrong, when I said dating doesn’t have to be serious.’
Her throat moved as she swallowed. ‘What do you mean?’
He had a feeling she knew exactly what he meant, because her voice was no longer steady. ‘I don’t think it’s possible to date you and not fall in love with you.’ Alarm crossed her
face, and even though he’d expected it, the punch to his gut hurt like a bugger. ‘Don’t panic, I know the rules and besides I’m not there yet.’ Though he felt like he was teetering on the edge of a precipice and didn’t know how to stop himself from free-falling right into it. Running his thumb gently across her lips, he tried to steady himself. ‘If I didn’t say it though, you might never understand how special you are. If you take nothing else from this time, I want you to at least have that. To know how unbelievably stupid Paul was, to not see what is so blindingly obvious to me.’
Her eyes began to glisten and he knew she was considering how to respond, which careful words to select. Unlike him, who’d just blurted everything out without thinking.
‘I don’t know what to say. Your openness, the way you’re not afraid to express your feelings, it both staggers and touches me in equal measures.’ Her hands gently clasped his face. ‘But I’m terrified once the rush of conquest has gone away, I won’t be the person you’ve built me up to be.’ She swallowed again, blinking away the hovering tears. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I’m proud of who I am, but Paul had a point, and at times I am some of the things he accused me of: rigid, too serious, tiresome with my need to plan, to be careful.’
She wiped at her eyes, and as he watched, he ached for her. Naturally cautious anyway, it was no wonder she was doubly so after the way Paul had treated her. Yet what hurt more than anything was the false perception she had of herself. ‘You act like nobody else has faults. Paul was disloyal and selfish, to name but two. And my lack of discipline, my chaotic approach to life is as annoying as fuck, according to my sisters.’ He ran a finger down her cheek. ‘I bet you were getting frustrated when I picked you up half an hour late yesterday.’
‘I was. And I know none of us are perfect. It’s just, when somebody who’s supposed to love you, faults and all, turns round and tells you they no longer do, that actually they’ve found someone else, it bloody hurts. Not just the heart, but the ego.’ Her breath was a half-sob. ‘Suddenly you question everything, including yourself. And you wonder if it’s worth taking the risk again.’
Strictly Come Dating (The Kathryn Freeman Romcom Collection, Book 3) Page 23
