Maid in England (The I Do Crew Book 1)

by Brenda St John Brown

  I’m not sure which of us moves first, but the next thing I know is Alastair’s hands are tangled in my hair and his lips are on mine and, oh my Lord, we are kissing and it is everything. His lips are gentle at first, but grow more demanding as my hands find his back underneath his T-shirt. His tongue swoops into my mouth and I let out a moan.

  I’m just about to push Alastair’s T-shirt up further when I feel something cold on my arm and quickly jerk away. “What the…?”

  I look around Alastair and Ziggy’s nearly falling out of his chair, and I swear he’s smiling at me. Even if he’s not, he looks awfully pleased about interrupting what’s going on here. Alastair grins and says, “I think we should go upstairs. Ziggy doesn’t need to be a part of this.”

  “He’s won me over, but not that much.” I pause. My body is humming, but going upstairs means passing the point of no return, so I say, “Are you sure you want this?”

  “Yes, Remi. God, yes.” Alastair’s voice is rough and his eyes search my face. “Are you?”

  I don’t answer, just reach up to kiss him again, Ziggy be damned. Alastair lifts me up and somehow we make it up the stairs to his bedroom with me still in his arms. The second he sets me down on the floor we’re tearing each other’s clothes off like we’re on fire.

  Maybe we are on fire? My skin flushes and the heat in my core is an inferno now. When Alastair pushes my skirt to the floor and slips his fingers inside my panties, I’m surprised I don’t come on the spot. “Jesus, Alastair. Please don’t make me wait. Please.”

  He grins as I fumble with the button on his jeans. “It’s been twelve years, love. I want to savor you.”

  My mind stutters on the word ‘love’ but my need is all I can focus on right now. “Savor me the second time. Right now I need you hard and fast.”

  I manage to loosen the button on Alastair’s jeans, pull down the zipper and push the denim down on his hips. My hands close around his hard cock and he sucks in a breath. “Hard and fast first. Definitely.”

  He fumbles in a nearby dresser drawer for a condom and rolls it on without pushing off his jeans. I’m still wearing my bra and panties, but he slips my panties aside as he backs me up against the wall. His eyes fix on mine and for a long second neither one of us moves.

  In his gaze I see the past. The present. The future. All of the heartbreak. All of the love. All of the possibility.

  Then he plunges into me and both of us cry out.

  “Oh my God, you feel good,” Alastair says.

  “Kiss me.” I gasp. “I need your mouth.”

  He meets my lips and his thrusts grow harder. My hips rise to meet every one of them. We won’t last more than a few minutes this way, which is what I want. It’s only a minute later that Alastair says, “I’m close, Remi, and I want to take you with me.”

  I nod and he pounds into me. I’m vaguely aware of my back digging into the wall behind me. But then I’m falling over the edge of the abyss, stars exploding behind my eyes, and all I can feel is Alastair. All I can hear is my ‘yes’ filling the air like it’s an affirmation and his answering ‘yes’ like it’s a vow.

  Chapter Thirty

  I wake up the next morning with Alastair spooning me, his breath warm on my shoulder. His arm is thrown carelessly across my stomach and his fingertips brush my left breast in a totally nonsexual way. Except remembering the way he touched my breast last night makes my breath hitch. Not since Alastair version 1.0 have I been so turned on by someone fondling my boobs. I even had one guy ask if I’d ever had a baby because the only person he knew who was less interested in “boob play” – his words, not mine – was his ex-wife after she’d had twins.

  I bite my lip hard to stop that train of thought. I don’t want to think about another man when I’m in bed with Alastair. In fact, I don’t want to think at all.

  Which works for the amount of time it takes for my brain to wake up and go into full “oh shit” mode. But just because I know what’s happening doesn’t mean I can stop it. First my skin starts to feel hot, then my hair turns itchy on the back of my neck. And speaking of hair, the hair on Alastair’s leg next to mine feels like an army of red ants crawling over my skin. Or a wire brush. Either way, it’s the thing that propels me out of bed and into the bathroom, closing the door behind me as Alastair sleepily calls out, “Remi?”

  I force a couple of deep yoga breaths, then say, “I’ll be out in a second.”

  My voice sounds high and thin to me, but I’m betting on Alastair still not being much of a morning person and hoping he doesn’t call me on it. I take three more deep yoga breaths before throwing Alastair’s discarded T-shirt over my head and shuffling across the floor to brace myself on the pedestal sink. I raise my head slowly to look at my reflection in the mirror.

  I look like I was having sex all night. My hair is wild, my lips are swollen, and my chin is red from Alastair’s stubble, but it’s my eyes that turn my breathing shallow. They’re wide and bright, half manic Monica Geller, half loved-up Bella Swan. Like I can’t quite believe I slept with a vampire, let alone liked it. The fact I’m making a Twilight reference at all is proof of how surreal this feels.

  I can’t believe I let last night happen. Hell, I initiated it. My grip tightens on the edge of the sink and I force myself to swallow. I slept with Alastair. Not in a getting-him-out-of-my-system kind of way, but in a this-feels-like-coming-home kind of way. Twice.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  I’m seriously on the brink of hyperventilating when there’s a soft knock on the door and Alastair says, “Remi? Are you okay?”

  No. I’m freaking out. You?

  Aloud, I say, “I’ll be out in a second.”

  I sit on the toilet – may as well do something useful while I’m in here – and do a bunch of yoga breaths while I pee. I try to count, but lose track after three, which doesn’t bode well. It’s not until Alastair knocks again that I finish up and flush, wash my hands under the tap, and open the door without drying them.

  Alastair’s wearing a pair of low-slung cotton pajama pants. His hair sticks up and he’s still got the wrinkle of the pillowcase printed on his cheek. In other words, he looks adorably hot and his smile is easy as he says, “Good morning, lovely.”

  “Good morning.” My voice is squeaky. “Did you sleep well?”

  “You mean all three hours?” He answers me with a grin. “I’ve had worse nights’ sleep.”

  I feel the tension recede in my shoulders as Alastair’s hand glides up my spine. He doesn’t seem freaked out. Quite the opposite. Maybe this is okay. I turn to face him and his other arm snakes around my waist pulling me against his chest. He buries his nose in my hair and says, “You feel amazing.”

  He does, too – all firm and warm. And familiar. I could sink into him so easily. Into all of this.

  On that thought, my breathing stops and my head starts spinning again. I try to take a furtive breath to calm myself, but the best I can do is a shallow one that barely makes a dent in my rising panic. Alastair’s going to notice in three, two…

  My cell phone rings on the bedside table, the piano crescendo ringtone blaring in the quiet room. I don’t remember turning the ringer back on, but I owe a debt to past me because it’s the excuse I need to extricate myself from Alastair’s arms so I can calm down. I give him an apologetic look and skirt around him to pick up my phone.

  I’ve not even spoken yet when Vera says, “I know you’re away, but we have an emergency. I didn’t want to bother you, but I didn’t really know what else to do.”

  “What is it? Is everything okay?” My shoulders straighten. I’m not facing Alastair, but I see him tense out of the corner of my eye.

  “The guy from Faber called a few minutes ago. He said he was frustrated about the lack of response from Rex about his author, but he sounded more than frustrated to me,” Vera says.

  “The marketing guy from Faber?” I haven’t given him a second thought since Rex sent me up here to work with Alastair last
week. “Weren’t they supposed to have lunch?”

  “Yes, but it never happened.” Vera’s voice drops. “Rex canceled and hasn’t rescheduled. The guy wants to get the prepromotion underway, but as he said, his hands are tied if the publicist he’s hired isn’t willing to do the actual publicity.”

  “Ouch.” I turn as Alastair moves behind me to pull a T-shirt out of a drawer. He raises his eyebrows at me and I give a little shake of my head, turning back around. To Vera I say, “I don’t know why Rex wouldn’t reschedule, but I’ll phone to try to smooth things over.”

  I should probably also phone Rex, but that’s another thing completely.

  “Great. Thank you. I’m sorry to bother you, but I know you wouldn’t want to let this slip,” Vera says.

  “I wouldn’t, so thank you. You’re right to call. Can you text me the guy’s number so I have it handy and I’ll call him now?” I ask.

  “Already done.” I hear a smile in Vera’s voice. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I hope you’ve had a lovely time.”

  I smile, too, because my breathing’s gone back to normal while I’ve been talking to her and I turn around and meet Alastair’s eyes as I say, “I really have. Thanks again, Vera, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I hang up without waiting for her reply and Alastair says, “Everything okay?”

  “Sort of. I need to call a client. My business partner seems to have dropped the ball.” I glance at my phone to find Vera’s text. “Sorry. It will only take a minute.”

  I’ve already pressed the call icon when I look up to see that the expression on Alastair’s face is a one-eighty from the one that greeted me at the bathroom door five minutes ago. I furrow my brow, but before I can say anything or hang up on the call, someone’s answering the phone on the other end. I’m midway through the song and dance of leaving a voicemail message when there’s a knock on the kitchen door downstairs, followed by Ziggy’s enthusiastic barking.

  “That will be Amy,” Alastair says, glancing in the mirror and shoving his fingers through his hair before heading out of the bedroom. He doesn’t look back as he leaves, which I try like hell not to read into.

  Spoiler: I fail. Miserably.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Amy’s video is good. Like professional-quality good. I told her I had every faith in her abilities, but I didn’t expect this.

  “You’ve done an amazing job.” I’ve said this at least fifteen times.

  “You’ve made me look way better than I have any right to look,” says Alastair. “It’s false advertising.”

  It is. Sort of. Alastair looks hot and I look confident. Guess which one is the false advertising? It’s not Alastair. With his short-sleeve T-shirt and sleeve of tattoos, he’s got the right amount of edginess and his smile at the end is breathtaking. If the Wellsies weren’t in a fervor before, they will be after seeing him in this. Alastair knows it too because, despite his protest, I can tell he’s pleased, even if he does keep shoving his fingers through his hair.

  “I thought maybe we could do a close-up on Remi here.” Amy points at the screen as she stops the video. She zooms in and my eyes are apprehensive and anyone can see the way I’m covertly chewing the inside of my lip. My first thought is that I look like I’m walking towards my ex for a showdown, not a joyous reunion.

  “Fast forward a few frames.” Amy does it until I say, “Stop. I think this is better.”

  My face in this one is open and smiling. I’ve obviously spotted the cow and I’d bet one hundred dollars I’m thinking about cow earrings. I glance up and Alastair’s grinning. He says, “This one is way better. It goes better with the overall vibe.”

  Agreed.

  “You look quite smitten here, though,” Amy says. “I think if we start with the frame of you looking worried and then splice this in afterwards, by the time you two actually embrace it will feel like more of a journey.”

  “Oh, it’s been a journey,” Alastair says, catching my eye.

  I feel my cheeks turn pink. The truth is I’m standing here unshowered, wearing yoga pants and Alastair’s T-shirt. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to surmise something happened between Alastair and me, but Amy’s been kind enough not to say anything.

  Now that the door’s been open she says, “I hope when you two tell your kids about how you finally got back together, I’m given my fair share of credit.”

  Whoa, boy. I thought my cheeks were pink before. It’s nothing compared to the color they must be now. Even Alastair’s blushing, although he recovers first and says, “You’ll get plenty of credit when the video is finished. Keeping to the task at hand.”

  Amy rolls her eyes, but she takes the hint. “Fine. There are a couple more points I need to go over.”

  It’s painstaking work going through the video frame by frame, but time flies and by the time Amy puts her laptop away, it’s two o’clock and I have to leave so I can make my train. I intentionally booked a midafternoon train so I wouldn’t interfere with Sarah coming home from her school trip, but now I wish I had another night. Or another hour where Alastair and I can talk. Or not talk. Either way would be okay. As it is, he says goodbye to Amy while I throw my stuff in my suitcase and get dressed. It’s only once I’m sitting in the passenger seat of his Golf that we’re actually alone for the first time.

  I’ve offered a tentative, “So…” when my phone rings. Dammit. I glance down at the number on the screen and say, “Shit. Sorry. This will only take a second, I promise.”

  It’s the editor from the publishing house and I don’t dare ask if I can call him back. Unfortunately, he starts off ranting and it takes me way more than a second to calm him down. Our conversation takes us all the way to the train station and I finally hang up as Alastair puts the car into park.

  “I’m so sorry,” I start.

  Alastair shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

  If his tone matched his words, I’d leave it. But they don’t, so I can’t. “Don’t be like that. I swear this is an anomaly.”

  “I’m not sure it is, unfortunately.” Alastair smiles, but it’s sad. “I’ve been spoiled while you’ve been here, but the truth is your work is important to you and the demands on your time – on you as a successful professional - are significant.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means we’ve done all of this before, Remi.” He shoves his fingers through his hair. “I hate that I recognize the pattern, but I do.”

  “Do you think maybe you’re looking for it?” My tone is sharp around the edges, but I think I have a right to that. Is he really judging me? Again?

  “Maybe? But it worries me.”

  Guilt curdles in my stomach, but it’s overpowered by frustration. “I don’t know what to tell you. I’m never going to be less than to soothe your ego, Alastair.”

  Now it’s his voice that’s filled with steel. “I’d never ask that of you. I never have and I never will.”

  “No, you never did ask, you’re right. You made the decision for both of us that my job was the most important thing to me, and that’s what it became.” I put my hand on the door handle. “It seems to me that you’re ready to do the same thing again.”

  “I don’t want us to hurt each other again. I’m not sure either one of us would recover.”

  “If we haven’t learned from our mistakes, hurting each other feels pretty inevitable.” I pull the latch of the door and stick a foot out, as much from the desire to end this conversation as necessity. My train leaves in seven minutes. Before I leave the car, I say, “If you decide you don’t want to come tomorrow as my date, I’ll understand. Or if you don’t want to come at all…”

  “Of course I’ll be there. I said I’d be there and I will.” Alastair’s jaw tightens.

  I pause with my hand on the door handle. “Thank you. I appreciate you doing this for me.”

  Alastair blinks twice – I know because I count – and nods. But he doesn’t speak and I’m a little afraid of what
he’ll say if he does. So I get out of the car, taking my case with me. I don’t look back as I walk into the station.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Being back in London feels manic. My body hums with adrenaline, putting me on high alert.

  And that’s only getting on the tube. By the time I open the front door of my Highgate house, I feel like I’ve been mainlining donuts for the past four hours. Which I definitely have not because I got on the train sans food and the only option in the snack car was tuna fish and sweetcorn sandwiches. I may have relaxed my food regimen quite a bit this past week, but that’s too relaxed. And also disgusting.

  So, walking in to see Jed sitting on my living room couch? Not ideal. Especially given the way Vera’s hovering around him and starts sputtering as soon as she sees me. “Remi. I’m so glad you’re home. Jed stopped by and I told him I didn’t know what train you’d be on, but he insisted on waiting. I texted you, but you probably didn’t have service on the train.”

  I nod. After my exchange with Alastair at the train station, I stashed my phone in my bag and didn’t give it a second thought. Ironic, I know, but even though his delivery was shit, Alastair wasn’t wrong to worry about past resentments rearing their ugly heads. I’m worried about that, too. I was going to pick up the phone and tell him that when I got home instead of chickening out via text.

  Now, though, all thoughts of Alastair fly out of my head and I lock my knees, fisting my hands on my hips. “Jed, I’m surprised to see you. What are you doing here?”

  “We need to talk.” Jed makes no move to get up and, frankly, he looks way too comfortable on my damn couch.

  “Fine, we can talk.” I swallow and turn to Vera. “Please don’t feel obligated to stick around. We can catch up tomorrow.”