She kept thinking of things she’d missed, but didn’t want to jump around too much, so most of them just got left out. Maybe if she got a chance she’d find a way to slip them in later. Anyway, the most important thing was not to incriminate herself about the fact that she and Redmond hadn’t been a couple when it all began. Suddenly she had free rein to relax and talk freely about all the times she’d longed to be more than just dance partners, but the habit of biting her tongue was so ingrained that it was hard to stop herself choking back her more affectionate remarks.
How ironic, she thought, describing in a little less detail than she could have done how she’d felt when Redmond left for America, that now she had permission — and reason — to talk as freely as she liked, she wasn’t enjoying doing it. Apart from anything else, Lisa wasn’t the sort of girl who wore her heart on her sleeve. She kept her private life to herself. If she hadn’t, word might eventually have got back to Redmond about her feelings for him, and maybe everything could have been different. Or not.
Tim was asking her if she regretted not getting together with Red sooner, and she found it surprisingly hard to answer the question. The truth was she simply couldn’t imagine things happening any way other than how they had, so that was what she said. At least, she hoped that was what she’d said … when Tim finally lowered the camera and gave her a nod and a smile, she found she couldn’t exactly remember what had come out of her mouth.
She said as much to Redmond when she got outside and he asked her what they’d spoken about.
“I don’t know what I said. I really don’t!” she exclaimed, then realised she sounded hysterical, and paused to take a deep breath. “He asked me questions and I was so nervous I just kept saying the first thing that came into my head and it probably made no sense at all.”
“I expect it makes more sense than you think,” he reassured her. “You’re usually pretty coherent.”
“Yes, but I usually don’t have a bloody great camera staring me in the face and the prospect of half the country listening to my answer. It’s unnerving, I can tell you. You wait until you’re in there.”
As if on cue, Tim came over to call Redmond in.
Lisa had expected to find a million ways she could have done better and things she should have said, but the truth was that her mind was blank even of improvements or regrets. The nerves seemed to have erased her brain completely, and all she could do was stare at the door and wait for Redmond to emerge, which he did ten minutes later, smiling broadly.
“We’re done for the evening,” he said. “Dinnertime?”
“I guess so.” Lisa was suddenly uncomfortably conscious that they hadn’t discussed where their relationship was going or what they expected from each other. She liked having him around, but would she want him staying every night after dancing? It would be a big change. And how would she ever get any work done? She supposed it was something they could talk about later, although she knew from other female friends that conversations like that didn’t come easily to men anyway, so maybe she should just wait and see what happened.
Chapter 10
What happened was that Redmond strolled with her to the bus stop, so it seemed to make sense to invite him back for dinner, although she still hadn’t been shopping so she wasn’t sure what there would be to eat.
“Never mind.” Redmond grinned. “You look good enough to eat in that dress.”
“I don’t think I’m edible,” Lisa laughed, but suddenly she was uncomfortably conscious of how inappropriately she was dressed. She didn’t want a repeat of the previous night’s unpleasant experience. Still, this time Redmond was with her. She linked her hand into his and he shifted closer to her as if aware of her discomfort.
Redmond pulled her hand to his lips and nibbled experimentally on her fingertip. “Tastes good to me,” was his verdict.
“Feels good, too.” Lisa was surprised to find that the gentle pressure of his teeth tantalised, rather than irritated her.
Mind you, after last night, she suspected that just about anything would tantalise her. She realised now that, apart from the oversleeping incident, the other reason she’d spent so much of the day on edge was frustration at the way the previous night had turned out. She wanted Redmond so much, and she hoped that he’d meant what he said about not asking twice if she was still interested today. The paranoid part of her mind that refused to believe things could possibly be this good was still searching for reasons why he might have changed his mind over the course of the day.
Well, she’d find out soon enough. Their stop arrived, and Redmond kept hold of Lisa’s hand as they got off the bus and walked up to the flat.
At the door, Lisa had already extricated her hand and rummaged in her bag for her keys before she remembered she’d left them with Redmond.
“Were you going to let me in or just stand there laughing all night?” she demanded crossly.
“I’d have let you in eventually. Maybe. If you asked nicely.”
“Great, so now I need to ask nicely before I’m allowed into my own flat.” Lisa’s disgust showed in her voice and she didn’t bother to fight it. “Remind me why I need a man in my life!”
“To rescue you from evil taxi drivers?” Redmond suggested.
Lisa wasn’t sure it was in good taste to bring up the subject, but she had to admit Redmond was right. She’d have been pretty stuck without him there. She wasn’t going to let him off that easily, though. As they made their way up the stairs, she threw a comment over her shoulder: “So I need a good man in my life to save me from all the bad men in my life? I think I’ll just do without men in my life altogether.”
“But just think what you’d be missing! Someone to dance with, fight with, make up with … ”
Redmond trailed off as she walked into the flat, and the way he trained his eyes, hawk-like, on her face should have given her a clue to expect something out of the ordinary.
The table was laid out for dinner with the nearest to a matching set of crockery she possessed, and the crystal water jug she’d been given as a housewarming present and never used. In the centre of the table was the gigantic bouquet of red roses, now augmented with clouds of white gypsophila.
“Wow!”
“If you’d care to take a seat,” Redmond invited, eyes sparkling, “dinner will be served shortly.”
“What the … ?” Lisa knew she wasn’t at her most articulate, but she was too stunned to phrase the question more carefully.
Redmond laughed. “Sit down,” he repeated, pulling out a chair for her. “I’ll be back in a second.”
He disappeared kitchen-wards and returned with two plates on which rolls of smoked salmon nestled in lettuce leaves, each topped with a neat wedge of lemon.
“That looks beautiful. You should have been a chef.”
“Didn’t you know? I almost was. I used to help out in the kitchen at Luca’s sometimes in between shows, and he offered me a full-time job there when I finished college. If I hadn’t got the offer from America, I’d probably have done it, but America paid so much better there was no contest.”
Lisa raised her eyebrows. It had been hard to imagine Redmond as a waiter, but she wasn’t sure if the idea of him slogging away in a hot industrial kitchen was more or less conceivable. One odd consequence of the revelation was that she felt embarrassed about her feeble efforts in the kitchen when Redmond came for dinner. She said as much.
“Why didn’t you say?” she continued.
“I don’t like mentioning it to people for exactly that reason,” he explained. “It makes people get all self-conscious and apologetic about eating the way they would normally. And I don’t want to eat restaurant food all the time — it’s nice to get real meals sometimes, the sort of thing other people eat. Don’t worry — I have my beans-on-toast evenings, too!”
If Lisa had t
hought for a moment that he was just being nice she’d have been furious at being patronised, but his heartfelt protestation had the ring of truth about it. Redmond knew what he liked, and wasn’t afraid to say so. If he said he wanted soggy packet tortellini because that was what other people ate, then that was what he wanted.
“Anyway,” he went on, “if I’d told you, you’d have expected something like this, and I wanted it to be a surprise.”
“Mmm. I don’t normally like surprises, but you can surprise me more often if they’re all going to be like this.” Lisa licked the lemon juice off her fingers. “No wonder you weren’t worried about what was in the house to eat. But when on earth did you find time to do all this and find me a dress? Didn’t you have work to do on that choreography for the advert today?”
“Nothing that wouldn’t keep until tomorrow,” he said lazily, leaning languidly back as far as the upright chair would permit.
“So what do you have to do tomorrow?” Lisa knew very little about his work life. It was one of the things she had meant to remedy, but so far she’d not had much of a chance.
Redmond’s face became guilty and Lisa looked at him suspiciously as he answered, “Just some paperwork and a couple of meetings.”
“So what aren’t you telling me?”
The sheepish expression intensified. “What makes you think I’m not telling you something?”
“Your expression, for starters. You’re a lousy liar. There is something, isn’t there? There must be. Apart from anything else, when I said there was, you didn’t deny it. If I was wrong, you’d have taken great delight in telling me so. So I’m right. Yes?”
Redmond shrugged awkwardly. “I wasn’t going to tell you until after dinner. Let’s talk about it later, OK?”
That aggravated Lisa. Now her dinner was going to be spoilt with the anticipation of bad news.
“Oh, I get it,” she accused, “this was just a buttering up dinner. Making up for whatever you’re about to say. Cheers very much. And there was me thinking maybe you’d actually just wanted to be nice for once. Thanks a bunch.”
“For once? Well, that’s charming too! Anyway, no, it wasn’t. I’d already bought the stuff for dinner before I got the call. And believe me, if you weren’t at the top of my agenda I wouldn’t be here doing this. I’d be happily tucked up in bed by now getting a good night’s sleep before getting up early in the morning to drive to the airport. No, on second thoughts, I’d probably already be on a plane so that I could get back and sleep in my own bed for at least some of the night.”
“Airport?” Lisa was struggling to keep up. “You’re going to America?”
“’Fraid so.”
Lisa was petrified he was taking off for good again, but her hammering heart and short breath prevented her getting out the question. She swallowed hard and asked instead, “What for?”
“As I said, some meetings and some paperwork that needs my signature.”
“But what about the competition?” It was the nearest she dared get to asking whether they had a future.
“I’ll be back in time for the next round if everything goes according to plan.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“Well, with transatlantic flights, just about anything can happen, but it mostly doesn’t. I’ve only been delayed a couple of times, and never for more than a few hours. Even if the flight’s a bit late, I can drive straight from the airport to the studio. Might be an idea if you take my costume and stuff in with you, though — I don’t fancy taking them all the way to America and back. Besides, I trust you more than I trust BA’s baggage handlers.”
“Thanks. I think.”
Lisa found herself grinning, though whether at his small joke or at the realisation that he wasn’t intending to return to the States for good just yet, she wasn’t sure.
“So am I forgiven?”
Lisa studied his face. He looked genuinely contrite. On the other hand, it wasn’t the best news ever, nor had she particularly enjoyed the way he’d presented it to her. It wouldn’t hurt to let him stew a bit longer, she decided.
“That depends.”
“On what?”
She thought about it.
“How about you make it up to me?” she suggested.
“How would I do that?”
“Use your imagination!” Then, because that might have been a dangerous invitation, she clarified, “Dinner would be a good start. The salmon was fantastic, but I’m still hungry.”
“Good,” Redmond said, levering himself out of his chair with a look of relief which Lisa guessed related to the fact that she hadn’t made more of a scene about him disappearing off to America.
While he was out of the room, Lisa wondered what had possessed her. She should be making a scene. After all, Redmond had stepped in at only a fortnight’s notice to partner her for the show, and now he wasn’t even going to be here for a crucial week of the series. Could they hope to get anywhere on the small amount of practice they had behind them?
Then she found herself grinning. She’d thought earlier that the competition wasn’t the real point, and now she was paying for it. The universe must have decided to take her at her word.
Redmond came back in with two plates on one arm and a bottle in the other hand.
She wanted to ask what was on the plates, but somehow or other the maternal, fussy part of her mind got the upper hand.
“Tell me you’re not drinking when you’re going to be driving to the airport in … not very long.” She’d meant to count the hours but realised she’d never found out the time of his flight.
“Seven hours,” he supplied helpfully. “Don’t worry — it’s just sparkling grape juice. I want you sober tonight so I know it’s not the cocktails talking.”
“Why, do cocktails make a habit of starting conversations with you?” Lisa asked cheekily. Her heart was singing at the implications of his comment. It wasn’t the kind of thing you’d say unless you had something more than just absent-minded chit-chat planned. Maybe they’d get the chance to make up for last night — though not for long! Honestly, of all the times to come up with an urgent business trip! Couldn’t it have waited?
Lisa bit her tongue. She didn’t want to spoil their evening together with recriminations. He wouldn’t be going if it weren’t necessary … would he? Lisa had to admit she didn’t know too much about how he thought. Every time she decided she had him sussed, he came out with something to surprise her. Like the mad flight of fancy he was now engaged in, chatting away to an imaginary Blue Lagoon. It was hilarious, yet somehow maddening. In seven hours he was going to disappear back off to the other side of the world, and here he was joking about drinks. She didn’t want to waste a moment … but was it a waste to have a pleasant, enjoyable, normal evening? Perhaps not. She joined in his laughter as the imaginary conversation tailed off into unfocused hilarity.
“Sorry,” Redmond said, and for a moment she thought he’d sensed her disapproval, but no, he was just apologising for keeping her chatting while their dinner got cold. She took the hint and tucked in. It was some kind of faintly spiced stew, reminiscent of what she’d enjoyed at Marrakech, and it was tasty enough to thoroughly distract her from both his silliness and the thought of his departure.
It was surprisingly filling and she ended up pushing her plate away still laden.
“You can’t be full,” Redmond protested. “What about dessert?”
“Maybe I could find room for a bite or two … in a minute … ” Despite her sweet tooth, Lisa wasn’t in any hurry for dessert. More food was the last thing she wanted right now. Instead they sat at the table drinking grape juice and chatting about irrelevant things: old school friends, fellow dancers, the weather in America, and the way American TV seemed to be taking over the British viewing schedules.
Finall
y Lisa found her mouth watering again at the thought of dessert.
Redmond grinned.
“I’ll have to watch out, won’t I? If I start encouraging you, you won’t fit into any of your dresses when I come back. Mind you, that could have its advantages.” He grinned, running his hand across her bare back as he passed her chair on his way to the kitchen.
Lisa stuck her tongue out at his departing back.
For a while, when they were just sitting at the table chatting, it had felt like old times, and she’d almost wondered if things were better that way. Their friendship was so easy and comfortable, she was afraid of how things would change as they got more involved. But Redmond’s hands on her skin felt right too, at once exciting and gently reassuring. Surely anything that made her feel that way couldn’t be a bad thing.
Redmond came back with a tray containing a complicated contraption that looked like a miniature camping stove, two forks, and a plate of marshmallows and chopped fruit. Lisa puzzled over the contraption for a few moments, then identified it tentatively as a fondue pan.
“Ever had a chocolate fondue?” Redmond asked, confirming her surmise.
“No.” Lisa’s puzzlement must have showed, because Redmond immediately demonstrated how to keep the little burner at the right temperature so that the chocolate remained soft, and then dipped a pineapple piece for her to try.
“Mmmm,” Lisa closed her eyes and rolled the sweet, chocolatey fruit around in her mouth.
“Nice?”
“Do you need to ask?”
“Good. I’m glad you like it. By the way, you have chocolate round your mouth.”
Lisa ran her tongue around her lips.
“Gone?”
“Not quite. Here.” He put his hand on her shoulder to steady her — or himself, she wasn’t sure — and leaned towards her, kissing and licking away the chocolate from the corner of her mouth.
When he finally released her, Lisa had to take a deep breath. “This has to be the best dessert anyone’s ever made me.” She smiled.
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