by Trish Wylie
There was a snigger from the cheap seats, which was cut off by an elbow swiftly poked into ribs before Lisa stepped closer. ‘Hon, it mightn’t be all that bad. Interesting definitely, but maybe not as bad as you think it’d be…’
Oh, she was so not contemplating a wedding day with Alex now! This had to stop! She rolled her eyes, shook her head and turned away, her gaze skimming the rack. Where was that dress again?
‘You’re just worried about meeting his parents, that’s all. Can’t say I blame you…’
‘I’m not worried about meeting them. I meet people all the time. If I’m worried about anything it’s that they’ll be as great as he is.’
‘Yes, I can see how that would be a worry.’ She followed Merrow as she rediscovered the dress that had called to her from half a rack away. ‘You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so sideways before, not even when you found out about Dylan. I know it maybe doesn’t feel so great right this minute, but, for what it’s worth, I think he’s perfect for you.’
‘Yeah.’ She walked to the long mirror and held the dress up in front of her. It was the one, without a doubt. Her eyes met Lisa’s in the reflection and she smiled a small, sad smile. ‘That’s exactly the problem.’
Alex wandered to the end of the jetty and fished his mobile out of his pocket, turning it end over end in his palm as he looked out over the water and contemplated calling her.
Funny, he’d never hesitated on so simple a decision before. There wasn’t that much to it. All he had to do was flip open the cover and hit a button or two. And then there was the added incentive of her famous sexy phone voice on the other end…
But was calling her when he was only away for a couple of nights breaking one of her ridiculous rules?
He was already pushing the limits on those and he knew he was. Thing was, he couldn’t seem to remove the memory of those few tears she’d shed the last time he’d pushed the boundaries. So he hadn’t pushed since.
Even when he’d really wanted to.
It was the most strategic game of cat and mouse he’d ever played before. But someone as free-spirited, as confident, as full of life as Merrow O’Connell might just be one of the few women who would truly hate the lifestyle of a Fitzgerald. Being a Fitzgerald came with certain responsibilities, a sense of duty; it meant living under scrutiny a lot of the time. And she’d hate all that, wouldn’t she? He didn’t want to be the one to attempt to clip her wings.
But, man, could she ever shake his family up.
He smiled out at the water. She’d already shaken his life. It was almost worth putting on a suit these days just to have her make moves to loosen him up. And to think he’d thought he had a pretty damn full and fulfilling life before he’d met her. Now his life just seemed—richer, somehow, didn’t it?
And he missed her. He’d bet that wasn’t allowed either. Well, tough. He did.
So he flipped the phone open and hit a couple of buttons. Because he reckoned that was what playboy lovers probably did when they wanted to talk to a mistress they missed having around.
‘Hey, Captain. Or should that be “Ahoy, Captain”?’
He chuckled at her greeting. ‘Funny—you out with the musketeers?’
‘Yes, I am, indeed. We shopped ’til we dropped and then we had something to eat and now we’re off out for the night. Lisa says we’re gonna make some mischief.’
Alex wandered along the wooden boards, the pontoon-like jetty moving beneath his deck shoes. ‘What kind of mischief, exactly?’
‘Ah-h-h…now that would be telling…’
He felt a sudden wave of possessiveness, thinking of that first night he’d met her when she’d been out ‘making mischief’ with the rest of the musketeers. But he swallowed the emotion down. He doubted she’d appreciate him being possessive either—another rule broken.
There was a call from the other end of the jetty. ‘Hey, Alex! Pint?’
Alex nodded, lifting his phone from his ear to call back. ‘You get this one. I’ll get the next.’
When he set the phone back to his ear, the familiar sexy voice crooned, ‘And it would seem I’m not the only one off out to make mischief…’
‘The yacht club is putting on a do for the visiting crews. It’ll probably be a late night. So I thought I’d check up on you now while I can still dial.’
There was a very brief pause, but it was enough to bring another smile to his face when her voice changed to the brighter tone she usually used to cover something up. ‘Well, have fun. I’ve prior knowledge of those wild sailing weekends away from home.’
‘You have nothing to worry about.’
‘You don’t have to say that to me, Alex.’
‘I think I do.’
When there was another pause, he stopped walking, straining to hear her breathing on the other end of the line before he dropped his voice a little. ‘I’m not Dylan.’
‘I know that. And, for the record, Dylan wasn’t as big a deal as you seem to think he was.’
He wasn’t? A part of Alex was pleased to hear that, but another part was vaguely confused by it. He’d thought a broken heart from a cheating boyfriend was the main reason she’d so much difficulty trusting this time round. And if that wasn’t the reason, then what was? The question left a frown on his face.
‘What was he, then?’
‘A mistake.’
Obviously. ‘But he did cheat on you.’
She sighed. ‘Yes, he did. Every time he went away with his football pals for the weekend, as it happens, while I played house. So there you go, you have all the gory details now.’
‘Well, then, he’s still a loser.’ Suddenly something else made sense. ‘You lived together?’
‘Yes. And we’re done talking about this now.’
Well, that might explain some of the initial problems with sleepovers. He should talk to her on the phone more often if it got him this much information in one go, but the bigger picture also pushed him into crossing the line with her again.
‘O’Connell?’
‘Yes?’
‘Tell me you know I’m not going to cheat on you.’
‘Alex—’ His name came out on a soft edge of warning.
‘’Cos we playboy lovers tend to stick with the one mistress at a time, you know—especially when that one mistress is more than enough to keep us occupied.’
She grumbled back at him. ‘I’m not there to keep you occupied. I’m here with no one to tire me out.’
‘Does that mean you miss me?’
‘Like a hole in the head.’
‘Liar.’
She laughed, low and sexy, and his body stiffened in response. ‘When are you back?’
‘’Bout eight tomorrow night—maybe a little later. I’ll come to your place and you can introduce me to Fred.’
‘You’ll hate my place. Why don’t you just call me when you’re home and I’ll come to yours?’
‘You don’t know I’ll hate your place. You’re just worried I might get to know you better by seeing it.’
‘You know enough about me already. It’s got nothing to do with that. You’re an architect, you like good design. My place will do your head in.’
‘How about you let me be the judge of that?’
‘Alex, if I know you’re coming to my place I’ll feel the need to do things like clean up, wash dishes and actually use a vacuum cleaner. I’ll be wrecked by the time you get here. Trust me. Highly organised isn’t in my genetic make-up. I have an artistic nature…’
Alex thought the lady did protest too much. ‘It won’t be your apartment I’m there to see. And so long as there’s a bed we’ll be fine. There’ll be catching up to do. I’ll even bring take-out we can microwave later, to keep our strength up.’ He paused. ‘Tell me you have a microwave.’
‘Yes, I have a microwave.’
There was another long silence, and Alex knew she was trying to decide whether or not to let him into yet another corner of her life. It wasn’
t so easy to persuade her to change her mind when he couldn’t use his usual methods, was it?
‘Then I’ll call you when we have the boat stowed away and you can tell me how to get there.’
More silence.
So he pushed again, using his most persuasive tone. ‘You know me by now. I want to see you. And if that means I have to drive to the office to look up your address and sit on your doorstep with take-out going cold until you take pity on me and open the door, then you know that’s exactly what I’ll do. So just give in now and save us both some time.’
‘You can be a real pain sometimes.’
‘See, I told you you knew me.’
He waited again, ruing the fact that he could practically hear her foot tapping while she thought and yet he wasn’t there to kiss the frown off her face until she caved in.
‘There are a gazillion unknowns in take-out. I’ll make something for us.’
‘That works for me.’ He grinned broadly, possessed by a sudden need to punch the air in victory. ‘Just don’t go making so much mischief with the musketeers that I have to go the garda station to bail you out.’
‘Ha, ha.’ He heard reluctant amusement in her voice.
‘O’Connell?’
‘Yes, Alex.’ He heard resignation this time.
‘I miss you too.’
‘Are these your parents?’
Merrow cringed as she tossed the ingredients for a Greek salad into a bowl. He’d kissed her breathless the second he’d arrived, the taste of sea salt still on his lips, but the second she’d pulled away to see to the food he’d started prowling her apartment. Not that it would take that long, realistically, for him to walk from one side of it to the other when the entire place could probably have fitted into his three or four times.
But her entire life was fitted inside the compact space, and the fact that he was studying every knick-knack, every book spine and every photograph with so much interest was making her nervous.
She glanced over to see which picture he had in his hands. ‘Yes, that’s them.’
‘What age are you in this?’
‘Am I wearing bright green dungarees?’
‘Excruciatingly bright green dungarees, with what looks like a pink T-shirt. Thank God you have better colour coordination now.’
‘At six that kind of combination is fun.’ In theory—her friends at school had had several other words to use to describe it back in the day. But after a few years they’d got used to it.
‘Is this a holiday cabin somewhere?’
She sighed. ‘No, that’s where we lived. They still live there. It’s a bit bigger now, though.’
She glanced across again and saw his brows quirk the tiniest amount in surprise. Well, she had said that their two worlds were very different.
‘Where is it?’
‘On the Dingle Peninsula.’ She focussed on the salad, cubing feta cheese and adding it to the mix. ‘The less touristy side.’
‘What do they do?’
Dammit. He just would ask, wouldn’t he? It wasn’t that she was ashamed of her parents, because she wasn’t. If it weren’t for them she wouldn’t be the strong-minded, free-willed, confident individual she was as an adult. She knew that. But standing telling a Fitzgerald what they did, even if it was Alex, brought back memories of her awkward teenage years. When, on top of coping with things like puberty and peer pressure, Merrow had also had to cope with the embarrassment factor of her parents’ ‘work’.
She cleared her throat and used the stock answer from those years. ‘They run a kind of holiday centre.’
She glanced over and saw Alex replace the frame on the shelf, his gaze moving to the next one, leaning forwards to study it closer.
‘It’s a good spot for water sports over there—great wind-surfing.’
If only! That way she’d have actually had something else in common with him. But, oh, no…
‘Okay, holiday centre is maybe misleading…’ She tilted her head back and tried to remember some of the other descriptions she’d once used to avoid laying it all on the line. ‘Retreat might be a better word…’
Alex turned round and looked at her with an expression of amused curiosity. ‘Now I’m intrigued.’
She pursed her lips together, frowning down at the salad as she sprinkled on sliced black olives. ‘I did tell you never the twain when it came to our worlds.’
‘And I’ve never quite understood what that meant. So how about you explain it to me?’
She glanced at him again from beneath her long lashes, damping her lips with the end of her tongue. It would be so much easier to drive the beginnings of a wedge between them if he weren’t standing there looking so delicious.
Dressed in faded jeans and a short-sleeved polo shirt of a darker blue, with the short spikes of his blond hair a little more blond and his tan just a little deeper from his weekend on the waves, he was heart-wrenchingly gorgeous. And she really, really had missed him.
Her stupid heart had even jumped when she saw him.
And now she was about to point out the monumental distance between their two families. If he was weird about it, then she’d have to call him on being a snob. If he made one of the raucous jokes that her teenage peers had made, she’d hate him a little for it. But either way, it would be the beginning of the end.
His dark blond brows rose again.
So she took a deep breath and dived on in. ‘They run a sex therapy retreat. Couples go there to learn meditation, yoga, massage techniques, stuff like that. And my mother is a Tantra Master.’
Then she waited.
Alex’s expression didn’t change. So she waited some more. But when she was just about ready to lift her lovely Greek salad and throw it at him, he nodded slowly and said, ‘Okay.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘Okay? That’s all you’re going to say?’
‘I might need a minute with this.’
She knew it! Of course he was going to need a bloody minute. Even now he was painting a very vivid picture in his mind about the way she’d been raised and about her family, wasn’t he? And he would then move on to realising how far apart their two backgrounds were. It would only take a heartbeat or two after that for him to realise why this whole ‘playing at being a couple’ thing they were doing was completely pointless. Then maybe he’d see why an affair was the best and only option.
Which would mean he’d see she’d been right all along—so why didn’t it feel good to know that?
‘To be honest my mind went a bit blank after you mentioned sex therapy.’ When she pursed her lips again he smiled. ‘Because I was thinking it’s not like we need any of that…’
‘I wasn’t suggesting we booked in.’
He reached a hand out and stole an olive off her chopping board, continuing while chewing. ‘Some of the other stuff sounded like it had possibilities, though. Tell me more.’
What? She stared at him with wide eyes. And caught the spark of gold just before his gaze lowered and he stole another olive. Hang on a minute—
‘Oh-h-h, you’ve got to be kidding. You’re getting turned on by this?’
‘O’Connell, I’ve been turned on since I got in the car to come here. This conversation is just adding to it, is all. My imagination is running riot. And you like it when I get creative.’
Merrow was flabbergasted. ‘None of this bothers you?’
He looked back into her eyes. ‘Why would it? If anything it explains why you don’t have as many hang-ups as some women do about sex. With parents like yours you’ve probably been encouraged to talk about everything and anything and that’ll be part of the reason you’re as confident as you are. Remind me to thank them for that when I meet them.’
When he met them?
He leaned forwards a little, his voice dropping. ‘Now tell me more about the massage techniques…’
‘Alex, I’m not taking you to meet my parents.’
‘I’m not suggesting we jump in the car now.’
&nbs
p; ‘It’s never, ever going to happen.’
He stood tall again, and Merrow saw something cross his eyes. He even avoided her gaze. And combined with the way his body language had changed she knew something was very wrong, so she backtracked in an attempt to get them back to where they’d been when he’d walked in the door.
She walked round the counter and set her hand on his bent elbow, turning him round to face her. ‘Playboy lovers don’t go to meet their mistress’s parents.’
‘That’s another rule from the handbook, is it?’
‘Yes, that it most definitely is.’ She wrapped her arms around his lean waist and stepped in closer, tilting her chin to look up at him. ‘But I can do something about the massage techniques.’
The fact that he didn’t try to touch her sent a tremor of fear up her spine. Instead he studied her face for a long time, intently, as if he was trying to make up his mind whether to say whatever was on his mind.
And she was almost afraid to ask. Instead she smiled a small smile and quirked her brows.
His eyes narrowed. ‘How long are we playing this game for?’
Merrow swallowed hard, her smile fading. ‘What game?’
‘The game where we pretend there’s nothing going on here—’ he glanced briefly over her head ‘—when we both know this isn’t just about sex.’
She stepped back from him.
‘And there she goes again, backing away.’ He shook his head and looked at her with an expression that translated to her as disappointment. ‘I don’t get it. I thought you were holding back because your last boyfriend hurt you badly by cheating on you. But on the phone you told me it wasn’t that big a deal.’
‘It wasn’t.’ And the fact that he’d used the term ‘last boyfriend’ again didn’t escape her. But she already felt as if they were on dangerous enough ground so she let it go, again. ‘I wasn’t enough in love with him for him to have broken my heart. I was just…disappointed in him. Maybe a little humiliated that I hadn’t seen the signs, but nothing more than that.’