The Party Starts at Midnight

by Lucy King

  ‘Of course you do,’ he said dryly. ‘But before you run off, let me put my cards on the table once and for all. I’m not looking for a relationship, Abby. I haven’t had one since Lisa. And that suits me fine because absolutely nothing will persuade me to go there again. But I want you. And I want an affair with you. Short and hot and satisfying until it ends. That’s all. Emotion, or lack of it, needn’t come into it. Think about it.’

  * * *

  All through the journey back to the pub, the usual quick chat with Sheila, the barmaid, and her preparations for bed Abby thought about little else.

  An affair.

  Out of the question, she’d thought, parking her car and getting out.

  Tempting, she’d thought, wishing Sheila goodnight and heading up the stairs.

  Out of the question, she’d thought, squeezing toothpaste onto the toothbrush and brushing her teeth with vigour.

  Hmm.

  It was frustrating, this inability to work out what she wanted. More than that, actually. It was infuriating. She’d thought she had it sussed. That nothing would ever come of the chemistry they shared. But now that Leo had tossed out the suggestion of an affair, she was no longer sure.

  He’d told her exactly what he wanted from her, but what did she want from him?

  Now, there was a question.

  She wanted sex, that much was true. And she wanted it badly. She might as well admit it.

  But what else?

  Well, nothing, because he didn’t have anything else to offer, and she wasn’t ever again going to make the mistake of thinking he’d change on that front.

  And was that really such a bad thing?

  Flinging back the covers and getting into bed, Abby gave in and decided that maybe it wasn’t. By his own admission he wasn’t up for a relationship, and actually neither was she, at least not with him. Oh, she wouldn’t mind a boyfriend at some point in the future, but that clearly wasn’t going to be Leo.

  In the meantime, though, and in the absence of a man who would be perfect boyfriend material, why shouldn’t she go for some hot, no-strings sex? Why shouldn’t she have some fun? She’d been working incredibly hard recently. Didn’t she deserve it?

  Therefore what would be so wrong with an affair with him?

  In fact, might it not instead be a teeny bit fabulous?

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  THE DAY OF the party dawned bright and clear. And, for Abby, early. Not that she minded. She always woke up pumping with adrenalin and raring to go the day of an event, and this one had an extra edge, because tonight, when it was all over, she was going to take Leo to bed.

  Oh, yes, she was, because it wasn’t only the day that had dawned bright and clear. Abby had too, and she now knew exactly what she wanted. Leo. For as short or as long as it lasted. Therefore she was going to get him into bed, and, seeing as how she didn’t anticipate much resistance, once she’d got him in it she wasn’t going to let him out, for the rest of the weekend at least.

  The thought of it, the excitement and the anticipation, kept her going through the long day of final preparations. It gave everything she did an urgency she’d never experienced before, because unlike every other event she’d organised she was wishing away the hours, wishing away the party.

  But the hours did pass, and in contrast to how churned up she felt inside they passed remarkably smoothly, as proven by her emergency kit being down by only one roll of duct tape, an extension cord and four sticking plasters.

  Apart from a last-minute change to the table plan to accommodate the now non-attendance of Jake’s former date—which, with all the after-party plans swimming around in her head, she didn’t even lament much—nothing major had gone wrong.

  Tables were now laid and flowers were arranged. The caterers were on schedule and the string quartet was tuning up. Parking attendants had been given their instructions and the waiting staff had been briefed. Everything was poised on a knife edge. Everyone was ready for the off.

  Of Leo she’d seen neither hide nor hair all day, and for that she was grateful because if she had seen him she might well not have been able to wait till tonight to make her fantasies reality. But now, since all that remained to do was let him know how he was going to spend the night, she had to seek him out.

  Having left her car in the field and road-tested the walkway designed to protect shoes from mud, Abby found him in the marquee.

  He was standing in a corner of the tent, his gaze slowly sweeping over the tables, the decorations, and the giant arrangements of white hydrangeas that sat in urns planted about the place and the balloons tied to each chair, just sort of looking and faintly smiling. She stood in another corner and did the same, although her gaze was sweeping over him and not the room she now knew every inch of.

  He wore black tie very well, she thought, her heart slowly flipping while heat and longing began to spread through her. He was so gorgeous. So intriguing. So complicated. And so perfect for a fling.

  Propelled by the thought of that, she walked over to him. Halfway there, he noticed her. Turned and ran his eyes slowly down the length of her and back up, and by the time he’d finished and she was right in front of him her mouth was dry and her pulse was racing.

  ‘So, this is the calm before the storm,’ he murmured, his eyes dark, his expression inscrutable.

  She nodded, and swallowed hard. ‘Ten minutes or so to go.’

  ‘It looks incredible.’

  ‘It does.’

  ‘So do you.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  ‘Are you looking forward to it?’

  Leo gave her the glimmer of a smile. ‘Contrary to all my expectations, I think I am a bit.’

  Despite the heat, Abby couldn’t help inwardly flinching. ‘Were your expectations really that bad?’

  ‘Not at all. Seriously, Abby. I never doubted you for a moment. I just don’t really like giving parties.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said, mollified by the first half of what he said, taken aback by the second. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Being centre of attention doesn’t really appeal.’

  Leo’s smile faded and Abby figured that given what had happened the afternoon of his wedding it was hardly surprising. ‘At this one you won’t be centre of attention. Or, at least, you shouldn’t be.’

  ‘True.’

  Silence fell and it wasn’t comfortable at all, so, taking a deep breath, she summoned up her courage and looked him straight in the eye because she had to say this. Now. Before either someone came or she chickened out. ‘You were right, last night, Leo.’

  He went still. Tilted his head and looked at her, his eyes guarded. ‘In what way?’

  ‘I have been a hypocrite. Sort of. I haven’t told you what I want, although, in my defence, last night I didn’t really know.’

  A tiny muscle hammered in his jaw. ‘But now you do?’

  ‘Very much so.’

  ‘And?’

  She leaned in close. Breathed him in and might have swayed towards him slightly before catching the sound of distant voices and easing back. ‘Carriages are at midnight,’ she said, wishing for a moment that she and Leo were anywhere but here. ‘Meet me at the folly at one and I’ll tell you everything then.’

  His dark eyes glittered. ‘I’ll be there.’

  * * *

  How the hell he was supposed to concentrate on the party after that Leo had no idea. He was dimly aware of the guests arriving, of various family members and friends shaking him by the hand or clapping him on the back. He was vaguely aware of the buzz of chatter, the hum of stealthy excitement as everyone gathered in the marquee.

  But all he could really think about was that there were six hours between now and the time he’d be meeting Abby. Thr
ee hundred and sixty minutes. Twenty-one thousand six hundred seconds, and every one of them was going to take a decade to tick by. He just knew it.

  They didn’t, of course. In fact, once Jake arrived with his parents time flew. He didn’t think he’d ever forget the looks on their faces when they walked into the marquee. The utter astonishment, the shock, and then a minute or two later the beaming delight. He didn’t think he’d forget the warm glow it gave him inside in a hurry either.

  Champagne flowed, canapés were consumed, and for the first time in he couldn’t remember how long Leo didn’t want to stand at the edge and merely observe the proceedings with one eye on the clock. He wasn’t searching for excuses to leave conversations. Instead he was actually seeking conversation out. Laughing and joking with Jake. Mingling and being a host, and a congenial one at that, because while he’d told Abby that he was looking forward to the party, he hadn’t really expected to enjoy himself. But he was. A lot.

  So when it came to sitting down for dinner, Leo was still chuckling about a story a barrister friend of his father’s had just told him regarding the extraordinary defence an alleged embezzler had mounted, and didn’t notice his mother looking at him curiously.

  ‘This is a lovely party, darling,’ she said, once they’d sat down and he’d poured her some wine. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Not really sure it’s me you should be thanking, Mum.’

  ‘Why not? It was your idea, wasn’t it?’

  Leo shifted on his chair, remembering how the party had come about and feeling slightly uncomfortable. ‘But not my execution.’

  He turned to fill up the glass of his cousin, who was sitting on his other side, and momentarily went still, warm, and oddly dry-mouthed when he caught sight of Abby standing at the entrance to the marquee, clipboard, as ever, in hand.

  ‘She’s quite a girl,’ said his mother.

  ‘She certainly is,’ he muttered, dragging his gaze away and concentrating on putting the bottle down since his hand seemed to be shaking a little.

  ‘It’s good to see you smiling,’ she said and he wondered why that would come on the back of a comment about Abby. Although now he thought about it, his mother hadn’t actually mentioned Abby by name, had she? Which meant that, damn, he’d given her an opportunity to read far too much into something that was nothing.

  Nevertheless he’d better stop looking out for her if he didn’t want his mother jumping to the wholly wrong conclusion. There’d be plenty of time to look later in any case. With any luck.

  ‘Am I?’ he said as coolly as he could.

  ‘You are. Properly. For the first time in years.’

  And was it really any surprise? Of course he was smiling. Tonight Abby was going to be his. He was sure of it. Why else would she have given him a look that could have melted ice when she’d told him to meet her at the folly?

  ‘Yes, well, I’m happy,’ he said, and he was, because the thought of what the night hopefully held in store was truly delightful.

  Not that his mother needed to know the details.

  Half expecting her to probe further, when she didn’t Leo glanced at her, saw that her eyes were shining a bit too brightly, and he wordlessly handed her his handkerchief, just about resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

  However, the tears, unfortunately, didn’t stop there. Jake’s speech, which began by thanking Elsa Brightman—radiant and beaming in green—Abby—gorgeous, wonderful, and he hoped very shortly to occupy his bed—and everyone who’d worked so hard to make tonight a success, became suitably sentimental.

  His brother, who’d never had his kind of trouble with emotion, had virtually everyone reaching for their tissues. There were sounds of noses being blown across the marquee. His mother spent the entire five minutes the speech lasted alternately sobbing and laughing. He’d caught his father surreptitiously dabbing his eyes with his napkin. At one point, to his absolute horror he’d even felt a quick tightening of his own throat.

  But that had passed swiftly enough, as had the video, which had had part of him wallowing in nostalgia, part of him cringing with embarrassment.

  And after a sublime, appropriately red-inspired supper of silky smooth gazpacho, lobster thermidor and raspberry and champagne jelly he was even persuaded to hit the dance floor. To a string of seventies hits he danced with his mother, his aunts and, after much cajoling, his ninety-eight-year-old grandmother.

  But not Abby. Leo didn’t trust himself to dance with her, even if she had been around to ask. As she’d pointed out, he wasn’t centre of attention tonight, and as the clock ticked he increasingly became wound so tightly he knew that if he held her in his arms he—they—might well become the star attraction.

  By the time the guests started wandering outside to let off balloons and watch the fireworks, gently corralled by an ever-efficient party planner, Leo could hardly stand the tension inside him.

  He watched her out of the corner of his eye, felt desire punch him in the stomach and something else wallop him in the chest—anticipation most likely—and thought, Not long to go now.

  * * *

  Standing to one side of the group of guests, just outside the marquee, Abby dropped her head back and watched one hundred and twenty red heart-shaped balloons drift off into the moonlit night.

  She was still there smiling gently and her thoughts similarly drifting when five minutes later the sky lit up with rockets, star bursts and a heart-shaped Catherine wheel before climaxing in a wonderful finale consisting of a giant four zero that crackled and fizzled and bathed everything in soft golden fire.

  Forty years, she thought wistfully. Forty years. What would it be like to spend that long with one other person? To live with them, love them, argue and make up with them...

  It was a lifetime, and she simply couldn’t imagine it. Or maybe she could. With someone like Leo, only not so emotionally closed off. Someone strong, loving, supportive and loyal. Someone who’d tease her, cherish her and not be afraid to let go in front of her.

  Definitely not Leo, then.

  Although, come to think of it, he hadn’t seemed all that emotionally distant tonight, had he? She might have been flat-out busy, but that hadn’t stopped her noticing him chatting to the guests, smiling, even laughing a little. She’d seen how he’d responded to Jake’s speech, and the film—which when she’d first seen it had made her all soft and gooey inside—and how he’d tried to hide it. And she’d seen how he’d danced with most of his female relatives and, as she hadn’t caught even the hint of a grimace, he’d clearly enjoyed it.

  So maybe there was hope for him yet.

  She hoped there was. She really hoped there was. Because if that were the case then maybe they had a chance. Of something more than a fling. Of a relationship, perhaps. Maybe even one that lasted forty years...

  She smiled dreamily at the thought of that for a lovely moment or two, and then the truth behind it hit her and her smile vanished. As if she’d been punched in the stomach, she gasped for breath. Reeled. And then wobbled, her knees shaking and feeling as if they were about to give way and she suddenly went icy cold.

  Oh, no.

  Oh, no, oh, no, oh, no.

  She didn’t just want someone like Leo. She wanted him. For ever, because—oh, crap—she was in love with him. Head over heels in love with him. With every inch of him, with everything he was and everything he wasn’t.

  Why else had she forgiven him so quickly for the diabolical way he’d behaved over the St Jude’s visit? Hadn’t she even thought she was utterly mad for still wanting him after what he’d done? She had because even back then she’d loved him.

  How the hell had it happened? she wondered frantically as everyone around her oohed and ahhed with delight and her world collapsed. When? And why? She couldn’t work it out. She couldn’t work anything out. Her head was a jumbled mess, a
fuzzy, blurry, tangled mess.

  The only thing she did know, as certainly as she knew her own name, was that she was completely and irreversibly in love with him, and she was therefore doomed.

  Because Leo wasn’t in love with her. And he wouldn’t ever be. So she’d thought he might have been softening this evening, might have been allowing a little emotion into his life.

  But that didn’t mean anything for her, did it? Of course it didn’t. She wasn’t making that mistake again. And how could she possibly forget the conviction with which he’d told her last night that absolutely nothing would persuade him to change his stance on relationships? She couldn’t.

  But nor now could she possibly embark on a fling with him. It would destroy her, knowing that she was in it hoping for for ever and he was only in it for as long as she held his interest. She just couldn’t do it.

  As her watch beeped midnight Abby jumped, came to and saw that all around her guests were milling, saying their goodbyes and their thank yous, which meant that she had to meet Leo in an hour, and the conversation she’d planned, the things she’d planned, were history because everything had now irrevocably changed.

  * * *

  Hexagonal in shape and having seen its fair share of romantic trysts, the folly was by the lake and, tonight, lit by the full moon. The arches were in shadow and the patches of stone that the moss hadn’t yet reached gleamed pale in the silvery light. The only sounds were the faint breeze that blew in off the lake, the rustling from nearby trees and the thud of his footsteps along the path.

  Not that Leo gave a damn about the atmosphere.

  All he cared about as he strode towards the folly at a couple of minutes before the appointed hour was the woman he hoped to meet within. Meet, haul into his arms and carry off to his bed, with any luck.

  And there she was. Standing beneath one of the arches, her face pale in the moonlight but so lovely that his heart turned over and he nearly missed his footing.