by Jessica Hart
Lust, plain and simple. She wanted to run her hands over him and press her mouth to his throat. She wanted to push her fingers through his thick hair and lick his skin. To taste him, touch him, kiss his lashes, his mouth, his mouth, and, oh, God, in spite of the cold, Romy could feel heat flooding her, burning in her cheeks and pooling deep inside her.
Desperate to distract herself, she bent and grabbed a handful of snow. Packing it into a ball, she threw it at Lex, who was stamping along beside her, absorbed in his own thoughts. The snowball glanced off his arm, and he turned, startled to see Romy eyeing him with a mixture of guilt and wariness as she stooped to try again.
Something flared in Lex’s pale eyes. ‘Right, you asked for it!’ he said, scooping up his own snowball. His aim was much better than Romy’s and, although she turned quickly away, it hit her right on her hat.
Her attempt missed him completely, of course, but she was already backing away, laughing as she tried to collect more ammunition. Lex’s next snowball caught her on the shoulder and she fell back For the next few minutes, they hurled snow at each other like a couple of kids, until Romy stumbled in the deep snow. She would have fallen if Lex hadn’t grabbed her arm and held her up with one hand. In his other, he held a huge snowball that he lifted, ready to stuff it down her neck.
‘No, no, please!’ Romy was laughing and shrieking at the same time. She was covered in snow by then, but the thought of it down her neck… Ugh! She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much fun.
‘Do you give in?’
‘I give in! I give in! You win!’
‘All right, then.’ Lex let the snowball fall, but he didn’t let go of her arm. They had both been laughing, but all at once their smiles faded and their eyes locked with an almost audible click as the glittering landscape shrank to a bubble where there were just the two of them, staring at each other.
‘Do you think Willie is still watching?’ he asked softly.
‘I…don’t know,’ said Romy with difficulty.
‘If we were really engaged, I’d probably kiss you now, wouldn’t I?’
‘You might.’ Romy’s throat was so tight, it came out as an embarrassing squeak.
‘And would you kiss me back? If we were really engaged?’
‘Probably,’ she managed.
Lex brought his gloved hands up to cup her face, and Romy trembled with a terrible anticipation.
‘Then let’s show Willie just how in love we are,’ he said, and bent his mouth to hers.
His lips were warm, so warm in contrast to the stinging cold of the air, and so sure. They sent Romy plummeting through twelve long years, and she clutched at Lex’s jacket, gripped by a dizzying mixture of excitement and fear and utter peace. Her senses whirled as she swung wildly between extremes, between heat and cold, between then and now. Between stillness and rush. Between the sense of coming home and the sense of standing on the edge of a dizzying drop.
When Lex pulled her closer and deepened the kiss, Romy wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back harder, breathless at the rightness of it. It felt so good to taste him again, to hold him again. Every cell in her body was sighing-no, was singing-’ At last! At last!’ The sunlight glinting on the snow was inside her, sparkling and flickering and shimmering along her veins in a glittery rush.
They broke for breath, kissed again before they could realise just what they were doing. Or that was how it felt to Romy, who had abandoned any attempt to think and was desperate to hold onto this moment, pressed against Lex’s hard body, kissing him, being kissed, and the dazzling light all around them.
And then, out of nowhere, there was a huge bump, like a ship knocking into them, and they both lurched to one side.
‘What the-?’
Magnus, bored, was looking for attention, and was rubbing his great rump against Lex, who drew a long and not entirely steady breath and let Romy go.
‘I think maybe I needed that, Magnus,’ he said.
Romy swallowed. She felt jarred, as if she had been on a spinning roundabout that had suddenly stopped, and it was all she could do not to throw herself back into Lex’s arms.
But that would be a very, very bad idea, she remembered. Because they weren’t in Paris now. They were in Scotland, and it was twelve years later and very cold, and they were just pretending. It had just been a kiss for show, in case Willie was watching.
Hadn’t it?
She moistened her lips. ‘We’d better go in,’ she said, barely registering the dog gambolling beside them. ‘Freya might be awake.’
‘Yes,’ said Lex, ‘perhaps we better had.’
What chance had he had of working after that? Lex switched off the light and climbed into bed beside Romy. It had been madness to kiss her out there in the snow, but he hadn’t been able to stop himself. She had been so close, so perfect, and it had felt so right. The feel of her, the taste of her had set tremors going in his heart. He could almost hear it cracking.
It had been his own fault. He should have stayed inside and worked, the way he had intended to do. But when they came back to the house, and Romy went off to find Freya, instead of sitting down at his computer and emailing Summer, Lex had wandered around, eventually finding himself in a room that was empty of all but a few chairs and a piano.
And not just any piano. A Bösendorfer, no less. Lex had a grand in his penthouse apartment, but it wasn’t as big as this one. To Lex, it seemed to exert a pull that drew him across the room, to run his hand over its gleaming mahogany top and then lift the lid to press a key, then another and another. Without quite knowing how it had happened, Lex found himself sitting on the stool and letting his fingers run over the keys and then he was playing.
He played out the tumult of feeling inside him that had gripped him ever since Romy had ducked her head and stepped into the cabin. He played out the memory of her touch, the way she made him feel, and then, so gradually he hardly noticed that he was doing it, he started to play the strange feeling of liberation that morning, that sense of being dropped into a different world, isolated by the snow, where all the usual rules were suspended.
And after a while, the tune changed again, to echo old Scottish folk songs that he had once learnt, and to play out the glittering morning and the air and the hills and the water, and Romy, laughing in the snow.
Lex played on, absorbed in the music, unaware of anyone else until a movement from doorway made him look up. Willie was there, listening, and the grief in his eyes made Lex’s fingers still.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I should have asked if I could use the piano.’
Willie waved the apology aside. ‘I’m glad you did. I haven’t heard it since Moira died, but I can’t bring myself to get rid it.’
He asked if Lex would play again that evening, and Lex was glad to. He didn’t normally like performing for an audience, but playing was better than sitting next to Romy and feeling his hands itch with the need to touch her. Better than having to pretend to her that he didn’t want her, while pretending to Willie that he did.
He found some music in the piano stool, and played the most battered scores, which he guessed would have been Moira Grant’s favourites. Romy sat next to Willie and held his hand while the tears rolled down his face.
‘Thank you,’ he said simply when Lex had finished. ‘I’m glad you came. I’m glad my store’s going to be run by a man who can play like that.’
The thaw had set in already. By lunchtime, the glittering morning had vanished beneath the cloud cover, and the temperature had risen with remarkable speed. Tomorrow, it was clear, they would be able to leave. Lex lay in the dark and listened to the steady drip, drip, drip of melting snow outside the window.
Get through tonight, he told himself. That’s all you have to do.
Beside him, Romy was concentrating on breathing very quietly. The curtains hanging round the bed smelt musty, but the sheets were clean and faintly scented. The mattress was comfortable. It was dark. She had hardly sle
pt the night before and now she was very tired.
There was no reason why she shouldn’t be able to sleep.
Except the memory of that kiss that had been thrumming beneath her skin all day. And then Lex’s playing had stirred up emotions Romy had rather left buried. She hadn’t been able to take her eyes off his hands while he was playing, hadn’t been able to stop remembering those long, dextrous fingers smoothing and stroking, exploring her, unlocking her.
Stop thinking about it, she told herself. Get through tonight. That’s all you have to do.
CHAPTER SEVEN
AFRAID to move in case she disturbed Lex, Romy stared into the darkness and told herself to be sensible while the silence lengthened, stretched, and at last grew so painful that she couldn’t bear it any more.
‘Lex?’ she asked quietly, just in case he was asleep after all.
There was a tiny pause, and then he let out a breath. ‘Yes?’
‘You’re not asleep?’
‘No.’
‘Neither am I.’
‘I gathered that.’ Lex sounded resigned. Or amused. Or exasperated. Or maybe all three.
Romy sighed and rolled onto her side to face him through the darkness. ‘I can’t sleep. I keep thinking about that kiss this morning.’
‘That was a mistake,’ he said after a moment.
‘Was it?’
She could just make out his profile. He wasn’t looking at her. He was looking up at the ceiling. ‘I’ve spent twelve years trying to forget Paris,’ he said. ‘Trying to forget you. One kiss, and I might as well not have bothered.’
He sounded bitter, and Romy bit her lip.
‘I think about that time too,’ she said quietly. ‘I think the reason I can’t forget it is because we never ended it properly. You just…left. We never talked about it, never had a chance to say goodbye.’
‘What was the point of talking?’ asked Lex. ‘You didn’t want to be with me. You wanted to make a life on your own, and you were right. There was no point in me staying. It was over.’
‘It didn’t feel over,’ said Romy. ‘It didn’t feel over this morning when we kissed.’
There was a silence, loud with memories. Then Lex turned and lay on his side so that they faced each other at last. ‘Do you remember what you said out there in the snow? You said that I wasn’t afraid of anything.’
‘I remember,’ she said softly.
‘I’m afraid of how I felt about you. I’m afraid of feeling that way again.’ The words came out stiffly, forced through tight lips as if against his will. ‘I don’t want to fall in love with you again, Romy,’ he said.
Romy drew a breath, heart cracking at the suppressed pain in his voice. ‘I don’t want to fall in love with you either,’ she told him. ‘I don’t want to need you. I don’t want to need anybody.’ She swallowed. ‘I’m not suggesting we try again. It didn’t work twelve years ago, and it’s not going to work now. We both know that.’
She could feel Lex’s eyes on her face through the darkness, sense the tautness of his body. ‘What are you suggesting?’ he asked.
‘That we have one more night,’ said Romy. ‘One last time together and, this time, we’ll end it properly. Tomorrow, we’ll say goodbye and draw a line under everything we’ve had together. We can get on with our lives without wondering how it would have been.’
Hardly able to believe how calm she sounded when her pulse was booming and thumping, she edged towards the middle of the bed. ‘We could think of it as closure.’
Lex shifted over the mattress and laid his palm against her cheek in the darkness, feeling her quiver at his touch. ‘Closure,’ he repeated, as if trying out the word.
He liked the idea. One last night. No more wondering, no more regretting. Just accepting at long last that it was over.
‘It’s just been such a strange day,’ said Romy, lifting her hand to his wrist, unable to stop herself touching him in return. ‘I’ve felt unreal all day, as if I’ve stepped into a different world.’
‘I know what you mean.’ They were very close now. Lex let his fingers slide under her hair, curl around the soft nape of her neck, and her hand was drifting up to his shoulder. ‘As if the normal rules don’t apply today.’
‘Exactly,’ she said unevenly.
‘Tomorrow, we’re going back to the real world.’ Already he was unwinding her sarong, his hand warm and sure, curving now around her breast, dipping into her waist, over her hip and then slipping possessively to the base of her spine to pull her closer. ‘Tomorrow, we go back to normal.’
‘I know.’
Romy’s senses were reeling. She had a vague sense that they should be talking this through properly, but how could she talk when he was smoothing possessively down her thigh to the back of her knee and up again, gentling up her spine, making her gasp with the warmth of his hand? When he was rolling her onto her back, when she was pulling him over her? When he was pressing his mouth to the curve of her neck so that she sucked in a breath and arched beneath him.
‘It’s just tonight,’ she managed, barely aware of what she was saying, loving his warm, sleek weight on her, loving the feel of his back beneath her hands, the flex of response when she trailed her fingers up his flank. It felt so right to touch him again that her heart squeezed and she could hardly breathe with it.
‘Just tonight,’ Lex murmured agreement against her throat.
Beneath his hands, beneath the wicked pleasure of his lips, Romy felt all thought evaporate. There was only Lex and the heat and the rush and the wild joy, so she didn’t even hear when he said it again. ‘Tomorrow, it’ll be over.’
The car was packed. Freya, strapped firmly in, was kicking her heels petulantly against the car seat, her face screwed up in sullen protest. When Willie waved through the window, she refused to smile back at him.
The crispness of the day before had vanished under thick grey cloud. There was still snow, but it was slumped and saggy now. Great clumps kept slipping off the branches in a shower of white.
Romy kissed Willie affectionately as she said goodbye, and even managed a brief pat for Magnus.
Lex shook Willie’s hand. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Thank you for everything. It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.’
‘Likewise,’ said Willie, wringing his hand in return. ‘I’m glad to know my stores will be in good hands.’
‘We’ll let the lawyers draw up the contract, then, when we’re both happy with it, we’ll arrange a formal signing.’ Lex was all business this morning. ‘I presume that you would like that to take place here?’
‘Well, I’ve been thinking about that,’ said Willie, ‘and I’ve decided that I should come to London.’
‘To London?’ Lex repeated, not quite succeeding in keeping the consternation from his voice. ‘I wouldn’t ask you to do that, Willie. I’m very happy to come back here, honestly.’
‘No, I’d like to,’ Willie said. He looked from Romy to Lex, who were carefully not looking at each other. ‘Seeing you two together, hearing you play piano… I’m not sure how to explain, but you’ve made me realise that it’s time to start living again,’ he told them.
‘Ever since Moira died, I’ve been hiding away here, but she wouldn’t have wanted that. She used to like to go to London. We always stayed at Claridges.’ He nodded firmly, mind made up. ‘I’ll stay there. I’ll sign the contract. I’ll see you both again, and Freya, I hope. It’ll be good for me.’
There was a pause. Afraid that Willie would hear the dismay in it, Romy rushed to fill the silence. ‘Well…that’s great, Willie. You must come to dinner. I don’t think Claridges is quite ready for Freya yet.’
Willie beamed. ‘That would be very nice.’
Lex was left with little choice. ‘We’ll look forward to it,’ he said.
There was silence in the car as they bumped carefully down the track. Willie was lost to sight and they were turning onto the single track road before Romy spoke.
‘Now wh
at?’ she asked.
‘Now we go back to London.’
‘You know what I mean. Willie’s coming to London. He’s going to expect to see us together.’
‘He is,’ Lex agreed grimly. ‘Especially now you’ve invited him to dinner.’
‘I had to! It would have looked really odd if neither of us said anything, when we’ve been staying with him and drinking all his whisky.’
‘I suppose so.’ Lex’s mouth was pulled down at the corners, his brows drawn together in an irritable line. ‘But now we’re going to have to stay a couple until this bloody contract is signed, and who knows how long it will be before we can do that. Once the lawyers get their hands on it, it could be months!’
‘Months?’ Romy was dismayed.
‘Weeks, anyway.’
‘Whatever happened to “tomorrow it’ll be over”?’ She sighed.
It was the first time either of them had referred to the night before. When Romy stirred that morning, Lex had already showered and shaved. His face was set, his eyes shuttered, and she could see that it was over, just as they had agreed.
Romy told herself that she was glad that he was sticking to their agreement. Closure, wasn’t that what she had called it? Easy to say before his mouth was hot and wicked against her, before the heat and the wildness drove them into a different place where there was nothing but touching and feeling and the heart-stopping joy of now.
If Lex had woken her with a kiss, if he had touched her at all and suggested that they made love one more time… Romy wanted to think that she would have been strong enough and sensible enough to resist, but she wasn’t sure.
‘It is over,’ said Lex, without taking his eyes from the road. ‘Last night was about us. This is about business. We’ve started on a pretence and now we’re going to have to keep it going. It would have been fine if Willie had stayed at Duncardie like he was supposed to, but too many people in London will be able to tell him we’re nothing to do with each other.’
