Frank thought for a moment, “it’s not the recipes that don’t like you. It’s you that doesn’t like recipes.”
“Butter’s not good for you.”
“Nor’s chocolate cake. Do you know what you need?”
I was hopeful. “Someone to cook for me?”
Frank was shocked, “no! You need advice. I’m going to an open-day tomorrow, a demonstration of cookery and baking over in Hughenport. They promise to give away a few trade secrets.” He chuckled. “Probably some other dirty secrets as well.”
I smiled. Was he offering to share a few cooking secrets with me? Definitely could be useful, especially with my baking skills.
“The information is always handy,” Frank continued, waving his arms in exasperation. “But these things are so damned boring. I didn’t fancy going alone and since you’re in desperate need of some serious help, I thought you’d like to join me?”
I can’t lie; I was shocked.
“It’s just for a few hours and you’d be saving my life.”
You can’t go, the little voice in my head was scandalised. It was also starting to sound suspiciously like Martha. You have to say no.
“Why?” I asked the voice, belligerent again; why did Martha always tell me what I should and shouldn’t do.
“People can die from boredom, you know,” Frank shrugged.
“What?”
“Boredom.” Frank frowned. ‘save me from boring people. A fate worse than death.”
You’re falling for him, Martha’s voice insisted, can you honestly tell me that you’re not?
“So, would you like to come?” asked Frank.
“Yes, I can,” I announced loudly to Martha, looking wildly around. Where is she hiding?
Frank took a small step backwards, “oh … um … good,” he said brightly. “Shall I pick you up around nine?”
Frank and Katy sitting in a tree, sang Martha’s voice. I shook my head in exasperation, kay, eye, ess, ess, eye, en, gee. Kissing!
“No!” Frustrated, I turned up the volume to drown out my annoying friend.
Frank took another step back, dreadlock man was watching curiously from where he was restocking the doughnuts. “Oh … um … good,” he repeated, “maybe we should meet here, then?”
I blinked rapidly a few times. Martha had gone, for now. I stared at Frank instead; he looked a bit distressed. Plastering an award winning smile on my face, I grabbed the cardboard box holding my cake, picked up my other shopping bags and took a deep breath.
“I will meet you here,” I stated. “I will meet you here at nine o’clock.” And with that I swung gracefully out the door.
*
It wasn’t until later, snuggled up with Will in bed, that I had the chance to think further about the events of that day. Everything had worked perfectly, just as Martha had said it would. The baked fish had been divine, the wine splendid. Will’s eyes had lit up like a little boy at Christmas, when he had seen the cake.
“Madam,” he’d demanded sternly, “are you attempting to seduce me?”
Smiling provocatively, I had allowed my dress to slide slowly off one shoulder, revealing an eye-full of red silk and lace. Oh yes, it had all worked to perfection.
Lying here now, with Will’s seed drying between my legs, I could relax at last. Couldn’t I?
The sex had been, well, the best ever. But was it proof?
Homosexual men had been known to have sex with women, it happened all the time. And even if he wasn’t gay, he must be bisexual. I frowned, all this speculation was pointless if it turned out he was having an affair. Whether his lover was male or female didn’t matter.
The trust would be gone.
I shifted position in frustration, sighing deeply, and Will’s arm tightened across my shoulders. I felt a small pressure on the top of my head as Will’s lips connected briefly with my hair.
“Have any plans for tomorrow?” Will’s sleepy voice mumbled in the dark.
“Oh, err, yes,” I thought quickly, “I’m going to a … a writer’s workshop down the coast.”
“Oh? You haven’t mentioned it before.”
Bloody hell, why hadn’t I just told him the truth? I had nothing to hide.
Don’t you? the inner voice queried.
“Who are you going with?” Will’s voice was still sleepy, politely interested, non-threatening, and I relaxed a fraction. Surely he was just making conversation.
“No-one important,” I answered quickly, “just one of the other mums from school.”
Will grunted and fell quiet. I listened as his breathing deepened and became regular.
Two questions, the inner voice was demanding to be heard; firstly, why lie? Secondly, why are you going to a cooking demonstration with Frank?
I thought for a moment. Well, the way to a man’s heart is through his belly? So, if I want to win Will’s heart back I need to learn to bake. Simple. I smiled smugly and settled my cheek against Will’s shoulder. The little voice stayed silent but as I fell into a deep and satisfied sleep, I knew I was ignoring the real issue; the major concern of the whole mess.
Why on earth had I lied?
Chapter seven
25 September
I stumbled out of Frank’s car, rubbing my back. “I have never ridden in anything more uncomfortable in my whole life.”
Frank grinned and patted his car fondly on the dented roof. “This little beauty’ll probably outlive me.” He caressed his door closed then strode to my side holding out his arm, a small smile touching the corners of his mouth. “Shall we?”
We strolled across the gravel towards the magnificent country hotel. “It’s gorgeous,” I exclaimed.
Frank nodded wryly, “very exclusive and very expensive. A bit out of the price range of a lowly baker.”
Passing through the grand entrance, surrounded by gold plate and sweeping staircases; reminiscent of eras past, I commiserated. “You’re not the only one.”
Following prominent signs (“they don’t want us to get lost and annoy the rich guests,” Frank grinned), we drifted down a plush corridor. “I feel like I shouldn’t touch anything,” whispered Frank, his breath warm on my ear, “I’m having bizarre flash-backs of school and I’ve just been sent to the principal’s office.”
I snorted, “but we can’t stop because the fearsome monster is chasing us.”
Frank pressed my arm closer to his body, his eyes wide. “That fearsome monster … it’s not my old Maths teacher, is it? Now you’re scaring me.”
Giggling, I peeped over my shoulder. “Your old Maths teacher … would she have shaggy red hair and a very pretty smile?”
Frank frowned. “No, but …” He stopped and turned, and since I was still firmly attached to his arm, I stumbled around too. “I thought that monster sounded familiar.”
“Frank Jones!” The woman’s smile grew even prettier. “Who are you calling a monster you cheeky young imp?”
Dropping me, Frank embraced the newcomer and I grudgingly melted back out of the way. Ex-lover? Ex-wife, maybe? Obviously very close to him. I looked away as the woman planted a large pink kiss on Frank’s cheek. It was funny but I was feeling just a little possessive over that cheek and that woman was clinging to Frank like a leech.
Just a friend? Who are you trying to kid?
Releasing the woman, Frank grabbed me, a big smile splitting his face. He slid his arm across my shoulders, pulling me close. “Paula, I’d like you to meet my good friend, Kate. She saved my life at the last minute and agreed to come with me today.”
Paula beamed and held out her hand. “I don’t know what he said to convince you to come today, but either he lied or you must love him very much. Did he mention the mind-numbing boredom? He complains heartily about it every year but still comes back for more twelve months later.”
I started to refute the assumed love-connection between Frank and me, but before I could, Paula started waving furiously to an older man strolling down the corridor towards u
s.
“Here comes the slow-coach,” she exclaimed. “I left him parking the car. He never did learn how to parallel park, the dear old thing.” She spun back to Frank, “and you.” She waggled her finger at him, “ why did you keep this beautiful young woman a secret? It’s about time we saw that stunning smile on your face again, and it’s well past time you got a life.” Paula turned back to me, ignoring my dazed look, obviously. “Don’t you let this man slip through your fingers, my dear. Although,” her voice dropped to a stage whisper, “if he asks you about his googly, humour him. He thinks his bowling is good.”
She shook her head and smiled while I glared at Frank, who took one look at my stormy face and scampered away. An obvious attempt at avoidance. I crossed my arms over my chest, hoping I didn’t look quite as deserted as I stupidly felt.
Frank was pumping the other man’s hand. “Stuart! Mate, good to see you again.” He glanced at me and his eyes glazed over, focussing on the wall behind me. He was embarrassed. He was playing along with this farce on purpose.
What the …?
“Kate?” Frank was staring intently at a pot plant and I resisted the urge to turn and look at it too. His cheeks were flushed, his expression strained and uncomfortable. Hesitantly he held out his hand, “I’d like you to meet one of my oldest and dearest friends. This is Stuart Murphy; baker extraordinaire.”
I shuffled forward, confused and irritated by Frank’s obvious deception. Is this why he’d invited me? So he could pretend to have a girlfriend?
Ignoring Frank’s outstretched hand, I smiled tenderly at the middle-aged man. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Stuart looked shocked, “I didn’t know they made bakers quite so pretty these days.”
I heard a chuckle from behind. “Oh no, love.” Paula popped up beside me, scrutinising me with sharp eyes. “Kate is Frank’s special friend.”
Now it was Stuart’s turn to examine me like I was a rare specimen in a museum.
“Um … well, I’m not … I mean –”
“Maybe we should all go inside,” Frank interrupted. I’m sure there was desperation in his voice. “It’ll be starting soon.”
Paula dragged her eyes away from my womb and followed Stuart through the door of the conference room. “Coming?”
I smiled sweetly and grabbed Frank’s hand, squeezing his fingers hard. “We won’t be a moment. I just need to speak to Frank.”
Frank squawked, breathlessly, “save us a seat, Paula?”
As soon as we were alone, I rounded on Frank. “What the hell was that about?”
Frank glanced at the open door then dragged me a little way up the corridor. “I’m sorry. I didn’t expect that to happen.”
“Great,” I was still seething, “apology accepted. Now go and tell them the truth.”
“Kate –”
“If you don’t, I will.”
Frank hesitated, “I know it’s a lot to ask but –”
I stared open mouthed at him. “You want to keep lying to them? Why?”
“It’s about to start. Can I tell you later?”
“No.” I stared belligerently at the subject of my recent fantasies and felt a surge of excitement shoot through my body. Shocked, I tore my gaze away from his deep blue eyes and collapsed onto a nearby chair. Bloody hell, now I was getting aroused at the thought of pretending to be Frank’s girlfriend. How old am I? Fourteen?
Defeated, Frank sat down beside me and sighed. “A few years ago I was married. I was young, ambitious and totally head-over-heels in love. Anyway, to cut a long story short, Cassie got sick. She was pregnant at the time and lost the baby.”
“Oh Frank, I’m so sorry.”
Waving my sympathies away, Frank continued. “After that she couldn’t cope. She was depressed, suicidal and in the end, hospitalised. In one of her more rational moments she demanded a divorce and told me she never wanted to see me again. That was two years ago, and I lost it, for a while –”
“I can imagine,” I interjected.
Frank smiled faintly. “Stu and Paula pulled me through using hard work and bloody-mindedness. I moved away, set up the bakery in Rowley and … well, here we are.”
Instinctively, I reached out and clasped Frank’s hand, squeezing his fingers lightly. “I really am sorry, Frank, but what does it have to do with me?”
Frank shifted awkwardly in his seat. “Stu and Paula are great, I couldn’t have got through it without them, but Paula does have a tendency to be a bit pushy –”
“I hadn’t noticed,” I muttered sarcastically.
“—and she keeps trying to set me up.”
“Ah.”
Frank grunted, “she thinks I need love. Look, I didn’t expect this to happen but when I saw Paula and she started on about you … If it’ll stop her setting me up with every female in that room, I’ll do anything.”
I thought quickly. “All right, I’ll help you. But there are conditions. Firstly, if there’s anyone in there I know, then it’ll have to stop.
“Secondly, keep your hands to yourself,” My voice was serious but the smile gave away my returning humour. I was quite looking forward to this.
Frank stood up and helped my to my feet. “Of course,” he agreed demurely then patted me on the bum, making me gasp. “As long as you can do the same.”
He flung his arm across my shoulders. “I think this’ll be fun after all.”
Chapter eight
25 September
“Anyway, when we got back, there was Frank up to his eyeballs in flour.” Paula grinned and I giggled helplessly. I had to admit, "half-naked, floured Frank" would have been hilarious.
Hot? Sexy?
“What happened next?” I glanced at Frank, seated beside me at the table and nudged him playfully in the ribs. Frank buried his red face in his coffee.
“Bloody baby photos’ll come out next,” he muttered.
“What was that, my love?” I gazed at him, smiling innocently.
Ignoring this byplay, Paula continued her fascinating delve into Frank’s past. “Well, that was when the chocolate sauce he spilt came back to bite him on the arse.”
“Ladies and gentlemen. If I could have your attention.” The announcement cut through my laughter. “Unfortunately, due to factors beyond our control, the outdoor barbeque demonstration has been cancelled.”
I grimaced at the window where bucket loads of water were drowning the glass and lightning flickered in a prematurely darkened sky. Noah might be needing that Ark pretty soon.
“Damn!” Frank murmured in my ear and I almost jumped out of my chair. “I was really looking forward to my gourmet sausage.” He rested his arm across the back of my chair and I narrowed my eyes at him as his fingers caressed my shoulder.
Remember our deal, my look said.
Can’t blame a bloke for trying, he shrugged, a small smile lighting up his face. His arm didn’t budge.
“However,” the announcer continued and the mutterings around the room died down. “We have replaced the washed-out demonstration with a hands-on explanation of the use of milk in baking. This will include –”
“Surely they’re kidding.” Frank was so close I could feel his breath tickling my neck as his lips brushed my ear, forcing a small shiver to run the length of my spine. His fingers massaged my shoulder and I held my breath. If I turned back to face him, only a couple of centimetres of air would separate us; just millimetres between Frank’s lips and mine.
Danger!
“Kidding?” I croaked. His whispering voice filled me, I couldn’t think straight. His fingers were caressing my neck, light as a butterfly, hot as a setting sun. I couldn’t have pulled away, even if I’d tried.
Which I didn’t. I couldn’t.
“The bloody milk thing, they do it every year.”
His fingers crept up the back of my skull seducing my hair, and my head tilted towards him as I closed my eyes, powerless to stop the urges that accompanied his feather-light touches.
> Stop him!
I can’t. I can’t stop him.
You have to stop him. Before it goes too far. Open your eyes. NOW.
“I can’t,” I whispered.
His hand stilled then abruptly disappeared, leaving me feeling empty and alone. Opening my eyes, I turned to face him, Frank’s blue eyes pierced straight into my heart.
“I know you can’t,” he gently stroked my cheek, “but I sure as hell want to.”
“Look at the love-birds!”
I jumped violently, shocked back to reality.
Did he really say that?
I pulled abruptly out of Frank’s embrace, to be confronted by Paula’s deep green, laughing eyes. Heat filled my cheeks and I threw out my hand in a desperate attempt to grab my coffee. Caffeine, that’s what I needed to sort myself out. Caffeine, and lots of it.
Frank’s groping hand was sliding across the table too, obviously with the same idea. Stuart was sipping his own coffee, a small smile visible behind the Styrofoam cup.
Fumbling desperately along the table, I finally encountered my cup and grabbed it gratefully, heaving a deep sigh of relief. Too late, I realised my hasty mistake as Frank’s strong fingers wrapped themselves around my own. Looking wildly in his direction, I uttered a little shriek, flinched violently and spilt the cup of coffee all over him.
*
The windscreen wipers swished, complementing the splashing of the tyres on the road. I glanced at Frank but his strong, handsome face gave nothing away as he stared out the windscreen, the coffee stain accusing me from his new white shirt.
“I really am sorry.” The apology sounded lame and I looked away before trying again. “I honestly don’t know what happened. I was … well, you know.”
Frank was silent. “No,” he said finally, “I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me.”
I took a deep breath, “I realise you didn’t mean anything by it. I just panicked.” I was talking fast, wanting to get it over and done with. The silence had been grating on my nerves. “And then … your shirt.”
“I don’t care about the shirt. I’m not angry with you, Kate, I just want to know what’s going on.”
I stared out the window. What the hell was going on? Buggered if I knew.
Breach of Faith Page 4