Lying in Shadows

by Sofia Grey

  He probably couldn’t wait to get away.

  Or could he? Rico opened the window as the taxi pulled away. “Thanks, Silverwood. Let’s do it again next week.” He gave her a beaming smile, still looking annoyingly fresh and alert.

  Silverwood? Did he give her a nickname? Maybe he liked her after all.

  * * * *

  Marcus allowed Marianne to lead him down to the Tube again. He had no idea where they were going and was enjoying himself too much to spoil her good mood. The cold outside sobered him, and he mulled over what she said in the restaurant. Was he being too hard on himself? She made it sound so easy.

  Before he knew it, they stood in front of Nelson’s Column. It was impressive, lit up at night, the fountains sparkling in the background. Trafalgar Square was empty, apart from a few people crossing the far side.

  Marianne made her way to a bench, and Marcus joined her. They sat in silence for a few minutes, enjoying a little bubble of tranquility in the night.

  He checked his watch. It was nearly one in the morning. “Might be a dumb question, but how do I get to my apartment from here? I have no clue.”

  She laughed softly. “That all depends on where your apartment is. I haven’t a clue, either.”

  “Knightsbridge. Near Harrods.”

  “Wow. TM-Tech looks after their execs.”

  “Yeah, and you’re slumming it in Canary Wharf.”

  “Uh huh.” She knew he was teasing. She yawned. “I think it’s time to go. Did you have a good evening?”

  Marcus faced her. Now the night was ending, he felt more awake and alive than he had in a long time. “Yeah. It was good.” He spoke slowly and looked her in the eyes. “Thank you. For all of it.” He was transfixed by a puff of her breath on the freezing night air. Her perfume, sweet and woody at the same time, teased his senses. It suited her perfectly.

  They were inches apart. He wouldn’t have to move far, to close the distance between them. He gazed at her lips, unable to tear himself away. Everything about Marianne called to him and always had. He’d allowed himself to become friends with her, knowing it was dangerous. Wanting Marianne was wrong. He had to think of Louisa.

  Marianne ran a hand through her pixie-cut hair and leaned against him. “It’s so pretty here, but it’s freaking cold. What the hell was I thinking?”

  Wrapping one arm around her shoulders was instinctive. His yearning to kiss her roared back into life, and he tried to ignore it. “It is pretty, but you’re beautiful.”

  “Sweet talker,” she murmured. She made no move, and Marcus held her closer.

  Jesus. Marianne filled all his senses. All his needs.

  One taste—that was all he wanted. One hint of this beautiful, sassy woman. It would have to be enough. He couldn’t offer anything else.

  He lifted his hand and cupped her cold cheek, brushing a pattern over the soft skin with his thumb. The air felt charged. He gazed into her eyes, waiting for a sign. Waiting for her to tell him to fuck off.

  She didn’t.

  Did she want him? He had to know. Need coursed through his veins, and he dropped his head and brushed his lips over hers. His world shrank to the bench in Trafalgar Square.

  She didn’t retreat, so he moved in again, with another fleeting kiss that grazed her lips. He was crazy to think one taste would be enough. He wanted to gorge on her.

  Marianne pulled back, opening a cool space between them. “This is wrong.” Her voice was husky. “We shouldn’t be doing this. You’ll hate me and yourself.”

  She was right. He was behaving like an ass, but he still didn’t want to stop.

  It took a superhuman effort, but he disentangled himself from her and stood. He took a step away and turned to face the empty square. His heart raced, as if he’d run a marathon. He tried to get his body under control.

  “I’m sorry,” he rasped, his mouth as dry as a gravel path. He couldn’t look at her. Didn’t dare to.

  She huffed a breath behind him. “I can’t be your lover, Marcus, but I can be your friend.”

  No. He wanted more, and that scared him. He had to fix things with Louisa, not get caught up in a flirtation going nowhere. He should be beating himself up with guilt right now, but he wasn’t. Instead, he felt panic at losing the chance of a stolen afternoon with Marianne. “Are we still going out tomorrow?”

  Chapter Six

  Alex hit the vodka on Friday night. There was something comforting and familiar about knocking it back, and in the privacy of his living room, he drank until oblivion beckoned.

  The sunshine woke him in the morning, its fingers stealthily creeping through the open curtains and warming his face. He was hunched in the armchair, an empty glass lying on the floor by his side. There wasn’t much left in the bottle.

  He was such a fucking loser.

  Sometime later, he stared into the bathroom mirror. Bloodshot eyes and grey skin reflected back at him. He’d looked better. There were plenty of women out there who claimed to lust after him. The great AJ—Rock God. Would they recognize him like this?

  He wandered barefoot into the garden, still wearing the clothes from the day before, and sunk his toes into the icy, wet grass. When he sniffed the air, he could smell the sea. With his eyes closed, he felt dizzy for a moment. Too much alcohol fizzed through his veins. He concentrated on the birdsong and the muffled crash of the surf. The sea had to be close. It was one of the attractions of buying this place, after all.

  Maybe it was time to go exploring. After returning inside and digging out a pair of boots, he set off in the direction of the sea noise. The house had a sprawling piece of land at the back, and he ambled to the bottom. He slipped on a few muddy patches but stayed upright. He saw the stream dividing the property from Jordan’s house next door, and smiled at the memory of the other night, scrambling across the muddy stream in the pitch dark, with the rain lashing down. In daylight, it looked benign.

  He reached the crumbling wall that marked the end of his land, and climbed over it, pleased to find he wasn’t out of breath. He was fit once, strong and muscular, but now the most he exercised was going upstairs to bed. When he made it that far.

  A narrow path led into the sand dune, and he followed it, feeling warm in the weak sunshine. He paused at the crest and feasted his eyes on the view.

  The empty beach was long and golden, and it curved away in the distance, a couple of dog walkers visible. There were boats on the horizon, a bright-orange helicopter hovering further out. Seagulls swooped and dove, squabbling over scraps and shrieking at each other. Alex took a deep breath and forced his lungs to take in the fresh air. This was good. He could enjoy this.

  The tide was out, and he found a series of small rock pools and peered into them. Hazy memories of fishing in them as a child surfaced. He spent a long summer holiday here once, when he was eight or nine. He’d spent all his time with Sam, playing on the sand. So many good times that still hurt to think about. He walked along, lost in thought.

  He didn’t see where the little boy appeared from. The kid ran out in front of him, squealing in excitement and looking over his shoulder. He collided with Alex’s legs and bounced off, to fall ass first onto the dry sand.

  “Hey.” Alex bent down and held out a hand for the kid to grab. A chubby hand wrapped around Alex’s fingers, and brilliant blue eyes stared back as Alex hauled him to his feet.

  The kid gave a beaming smile, turned, and headed a few paces in the other direction. “Mommy,” he called as he went, arms pumping at his sides. Alex watched in amusement and recognized the woman the kid ran to. Louisa.

  He was shocked by her appearance. Previously styled blonde hair tumbled around her face, she had huge violet shadows under red-rimmed eyes, and she looked exhausted.

  “Come here, Ted,” she called, before swinging the boy up into her arms. She held him securely against her hip and seemed reluctant to meet Alex’s gaze.

  “Hey, Louisa.” Alex glanced down at his clothes and saw the smears of dirt on b
oth legs of his jeans. Christ. He looked like he’d slept in the gutter. He tried a rueful grin. “My garden’s a bit muddy.”

  She gave a little smile in return, and Alex wondered what happened in the space of a day, to make the blonde goddess look as shitty as he felt.

  Now that he’d met someone he knew, he was hungry for company. “It’s a nice beach.”

  “I guess.” Her voice was husky. “I try to bring Ted most days.”

  “I came here on holiday as a kid, and I think we stayed somewhere around here. This is the first time I’ve been back, but it looks pretty much as I remember it.”

  Louisa looked away into the distance, while Ted struggled against her hip. “I love the emptiness of it. I hate crowds.” She let him scramble down to the sand again. “And it’s safe for Ted to play here.”

  “Cold today, though.” Alex shivered. The wind had picked up since he left the house, and it looked as though more rain was on the way. He’d thought to put boots on but never picked up a coat. “Do you want to come back to mine for a coffee?”

  She looked at him, hesitated a moment, then gave a shy smile. “That would be good. Thanks.” She turned and called to her son, “Ted, baby, come on. We’re going.”

  Ted ignored her and ran toward the water, still some distance away. It seemed natural for Alex to stride up behind him and scoop him up, to carry back to Louisa.

  “Thanks.” She was noticeably different from her quiet confidence the other night.

  Alex led the way back toward his house. “Do you want me to carry him? It’s a bit steep through the dunes.”

  Louisa nodded, and Alex swung him onto his shoulders, enjoying the resulting squeal of delight. He liked kids.

  “You’re good with him. Do you have any children?”

  He half expected the question. “No.” He should have been a father to a kid a bit older than this. His child would have been nine by now, if his girlfriend hadn’t had an abortion. It still stung when he thought about it.

  Louisa settled Ted at Alex’s kitchen table and gave him a newspaper and pen to play with. The boy yawned and rubbed his eyes. He didn’t look far from sleep.

  Alex made instant coffee. Or tried to. It tasted weak as piss, and he had no milk. He added another spoon of granules, and it tasted bitter. He apologized for the foul brew and sat to join his guests. “I’m a lousy host.”

  “It’s okay.” Louisa winced at the first sip of the drink, but she took another anyway. “I’m not good company today.”

  Alex racked his brains to remember what they talked about that night at Kate and Jordan’s. “Is your husband coming up this weekend?”

  To his alarm, her lower lip wobbled, and tears glistened on her lashes. “No.” Her voice was tight. She swiped at her eyes and managed a smile, but it was shaky and looked artificial. “He’s too busy. Or so he says.”

  This sounded way too complicated for a casual Saturday-morning conversation, but Alex was a sucker for crying women. “Is everything okay?” No, shrieked his subconscious. Don’t go there.

  She glanced at Ted, now head down, and dozing at the table. “I think my husband is having an affair.” She whispered it, her gaze fixed on her son.

  Alex wanted to retreat now, but it was too late. Louisa and Kate had been lovely to him, so maybe it was his turn to be nice right back. “Why do you think that?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, I have no proof. But I think he did once before, and I’m seeing the same signs.” She swallowed. “It’s crucifying me. I wanted us to have another baby, and that’s not happening, and now this. Kate thinks I should leave Ted here and go spend some time with Marcus in London. Talk to him. But he says he’s too busy, so I’ll end up hanging around on my own. And all the time I’ll be wondering if he’s with her.”

  The jumbled torrent of words stopped. Alex didn’t know what to say. He wrapped his hands around his mug of disgusting coffee and felt useless.

  Louisa stood and walked to the window, her hands clenched and her shoulders stiff. “I don’t expect you to understand.” Her back was to him, but he feared she was crying again.

  He had to do something. Say something. “Did you ask him if he cheated on you before?”

  She snorted. “Ask him? I couldn’t do that. I decided I didn’t want to know. I thought we’d put it behind us, and it was really good for ages afterward.”

  “Jordan and Kate say he works very hard. There’s no chance you might be mistaken?”

  She turned and glared at him. “I know my husband. And yes, he is working hard, but there’s more to life than that.”

  “So maybe Kate is right, and you need to spend some more time together.” Alex groped for pretty words. “Remind him you’re there for him and that—as you say—there’s more to life than work.”

  “You men stick together.”

  Great job, Alex. “I’m not much use as a sounding board, am I?” She met his gaze, and he tried a smile. “I mean, I serve lousy coffee, and I sound as though I side with your husband. Who, by the way, would be a complete arsehole, to cheat on you.”

  There was a hint of an answering smile on her face. “Thanks,” she said softly. “I shouldn’t have spoken in front of Ted.” She glanced at her son. “We’d better go. It looks like the rain has stopped.”

  As soon as she lifted him, the child woke and grumbled at being disturbed. Louisa spoke over his voice. “If you wanna come around for dinner again tonight, it’s my turn to cook. I’m not as proficient as Kate, but I do a mean Texan chili.”

  Alex had precious little food in the house, and it was tempting. “Thanks, but I need to do something in return.”

  Louisa gave him a mischievous look. “Kate’s been asking Jordan to chop some firewood and bring it in the house. He’ll do it this afternoon. Why don’t you come and help? There’s a lot to do.”

  He’d never chopped wood before, but it wasn’t as though he had anything else to do. “Work for my supper? That seems fair.”

  * * * *

  Seeing Marcus getting intimate with Marianne for the second night running was a gift. I spotted them from my cab, as it sped through London’s deserted streets. It was too good an opportunity to miss. Another click on my phone—another image stored. They were so wrapped up in each other, they failed to notice me.

  Rumours about their relationship are rife in the Houston office. A careful word here and there, and the grapevine in London will soon be buzzing.

  I know who’d like to see these pictures.

  Chapter Seven

  Who would have thought chopping firewood could be fun? Alex couldn’t remember the last time he enjoyed anything so much. Jordan treated him like a regular guy, as did Kate and Louisa, and it was refreshing.

  He swapped stories and bad jokes with Jordan, while they chopped and stacked in the woodshed. It was dirty work and tiring, and he stunk when they finished. His muscles burned, but his heart felt lighter. The hollow emptiness that devoured him a little more every day had been pushed back, and that felt good, if only for a short while.

  When Kate arrived home from her errands, an Event Horizon song blasting from her car speakers, and saw him and Jordan, Alex took great amusement in the shocked expression on her face.

  Jordan grinned at him. “She thought we scared you off. I told her you were made of stronger stuff.” He surveyed the neatly stacked logs and wiped a dusty hand across his brow. “I think we’re done. Let’s grab a beer.”

  They settled at the table in the kitchen, with a chilled beer each, and Jordan chinked their bottles together. “Thanks for this afternoon.”

  “You’re welcome.” Alex took a long draught of the cold drink and sat back as Jordan spoke to Kate. Louisa stood by the stove, a wooden spoon in her hand. A delicious spicy scent filled the air. His stomach growled and reminded him he hadn’t eaten today. His hangover was gone, though, sweated out through an afternoon of labour.

  Kate wrinkled her nose when she stood next to her husband. “Pooh. You’re stinky
.” She sounded amused.

  “What do you expect? We’ve chopped and stacked two tons of firewood this afternoon.”

  “You still stink.”

  “It’s a manly smell.” He gave her a wink, and she laughed.

  “Whatever. You can still shower before dinner. Alex, do you want a shower as well?”

  “Subtle.” Alex slugged the last of his beer and stood up. “I’ll go clean up and change at home. What time should I come over?”

  “Anytime.” Jordan gathered the empty bottles. “Come as soon as you’re ready, and I’ll show you that computer game before dinner.”

  “You’re on.”

  Part of Alex didn’t want to leave. Warm, noisy, and filled with life, this was the complete opposite of his place. Jordan had a home, and that was the difference.

  The sooner Alex cleaned up, the sooner he’d be back.

  * * * *

  Hours later, after devouring two portions of Louisa’s spicy chili and a pile of Kate’s homemade tortillas, Alex followed the others to Kate’s smallest living room, the one she called her library. The fire burned brightly with wood he helped to chop, and the atmosphere was tranquil. The children were both in bed. He sank into a shabby but comfortable armchair and gazed around the room. Heavy curtains blocked out the night, and the huge bookshelves flickered with reflected firelight. Jordan and Kate’s cat claimed prime position on the hearthrug, and Alex couldn’t remember the last time he felt so chilled out without the aid of drugs.

  He’d given Louisa a bottle of Tequila and one of Triple Sec, as well as a bag of limes, so she could mix some traditional margaritas. One of these sat by his hand now. “I nearly forgot,” he said to Kate. “I brought you this.” He dug into his jacket pocket and retrieved the gift he brought her. He sat back to enjoy watching her open the brightly colored paper bag.

  Kate peeked inside the bag, her brows knitted together in a puzzled frown. She slid out the CD he chose, stared at the front, and broke into a huge smile. It was a copy of one of his best selling albums, Standing on the Shores of Paradise, but a rare, limited edition, and with a sleeve note added by Alex.