A Heat of the Moment Thing

by Maggie Le Page

  Charlie’s fingers grazed my shoulder and heat flooded my cheeks. I knew exactly what Fred was thinking, and if that got back to Dani I’d never hear the end of it. ‘You dirty dog’ would be followed by ‘Thought you couldn’t stand him’ —or, worse, the loyalty card, ‘You know I can’t stand him’.

  I took refuge in my cider.

  But what if she told Mum? One whiff of this and Mum would be in Mrs Hollingworth’s ear and they’d both have us married off before you could say ‘that lovely young man’. And all we’d done was coffee!

  “Fred’s down here on business,” said Charlie, playing footsie with me under the table.

  “Terrific.” I gave Fred a tight smile. “Food, anyone?” I picked up the menu. “Steak and Guinness pie? Scampi?”

  “Great idea,” said Charlie, leaning close to read over my shoulder.

  He beckoned the waitress over and we placed our orders.

  “Nothing for me,” said Fred.

  “You work down here often?” Charlie asked.

  They started talking shop and for a while I stayed tuned in, worrying about Fred and what he may or may not say to Dani. Eventually I relaxed—what would be would be; cider had a way of making life seem so much simpler—and my mind drifted. What a lovely day. Bosham had been such an unexpected discovery. Ditto the grown-up Charlie. Imagine if I’d gone through my whole life hating him without even knowing him.

  Our meals arrived, we ate, they talked. And now, with a full belly, I felt very mellow. Mellow, and sleepy. I hoped Charlie wouldn’t mind me snoozing on the drive home.

  Fred stood. “I’d better go. See you back in London.”

  We watched him leave.

  “Fancy meeting him here,” said Charlie.

  “Yes, fancy.” I smothered a yawn.

  He turned my wrist over and checked my watch. “Hey, it’s getting late. Want to stop over at a B&B for the night?”

  I snapped my head around, my pulse lunging into a gallop. He returned my gaze evenly.

  Sexy mouth.

  What was it Dani had said? Find a man to replace a man?

  Heat washed through me. I rested my head against the back of the booth and closed my eyes. Well? Why not? As a Matt-replacement I couldn’t do much better than Charlie. And what better way to finally, permanently, put that Dog Breath incident behind me?

  I smiled to myself. Had Charlie really just managed to engineer an overnighter out of a coffee outing? Well played. Very well played.

  “Feeling sleepy, huh?” I asked.

  His lips whispered across my ear and I jumped.

  “Only if you are,” he murmured.

  I turned my head and there were his lips, only a hair’s breadth away. His gaze fell to my mouth. My breath hitched. Awareness, a moth’s fragile flutter, flickered against my ribs.

  “Desserts,” drawled the waitress, “coffee, or do you want the bill?”

  Charlie’s eyes didn’t leave my lips. “I think we’ll go for the bill.”

  He threw some notes on the table, stood, and took my hand. “Let’s go. There’s a B&B over the road.”

  * * *

  My mouth went dry as I took in the enormous bed. Did it have to be so damn prominent? “Well. Here we are, then.”

  “Yep, here we are.” He removed his coat, tossed it over a chair.

  I looked at the coat, then at him, and felt a wallop of guilt. Crap. I sat down abruptly on the bed. What was I doing? Since when had I turned into a dirty slapper? I couldn’t share a room with him.

  “Coffee?” He rummaged around in the sideboard and pulled out a kettle.

  I cleared my throat. “Sure.”

  For goodness sake! I had nothing to feel guilty over. This was the only room available. We had to sleep somewhere.

  But sharing a bed with him?

  Sleeping together didn’t have to mean sex, though.

  Yeah, and who was I kidding?

  Okay, so maybe we would have sex. So what? We’d had a fantastic day. This was a moment in time, nothing more, nothing less.

  He took the kettle into the ensuite and filled it with water. Re-emerged and plugged it in.

  But—casual sex? Me?

  Why not? We were consenting adults.

  The kettle boiled and he poured two coffees. Gave one to me then sprawled on the oversized three-seater beneath the window. Patted the cushion beside him.

  I hesitated, then got over myself and joined him on the couch.

  He shifted in his seat, as if to make room for me, but somehow his knee ended up touching mine. “I’ve enjoyed today.”

  “Me too.” I sipped at my coffee, every hair on my arm alert to his nearness.

  He reached out and gave one of my frizzy curls an experimental tug. The curl pinged back. He bounced my curls lightly against his hand. “I remember those curls.”

  And I remembered his touch. A delicious shiver rippled through me.

  “Cold? Here, I’ll warm you up.”

  “I’m fine.”

  But he took my coffee anyway, placed it on the table, then drew me into the circle of his arm.

  I hadn’t been cold to start with, but now I felt damn-near feverish. And maybe I was. Why else would I be getting this cosy with a guy I’d hated almost twenty years?

  “Better?” he asked.

  I exhaled, trying to steady my pulse. Nodded.

  He relaxed into the couch.

  “Becky, Becky, Becky,” he said, as if I were some perplexing problem he couldn’t quite get his head around.

  “Yes?” In my peripheral vision I could see him looking at me.

  His fingers tangled in my curls. “Do you trust me?”

  I turned and made eye-contact with his mouth. My heart tripped then raced. “No way.”

  “Wise girl.” He stood and, taking my hands in his, pulled me up with him.

  I gave up trying to breathe. “Wise? Or just really stupid.”

  His arm tightened around my waist. “Let’s be stupid together.”

  And his lips, some seventeen years late, came down on mine.

  What started as a kiss quickly became far more physical and I decided that, stupid or not, a horny-as-hell shag was absolutely what I wanted tonight.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The light through my eyelids told me it was morning. I lingered on the edge of consciousness, caught in that warm, fuzzy state where reality and fantasy blend seamlessly. I shifted in the bed and my hand came up against something solid. Something human.

  Charlie.

  My heart hammered. Fully awake now but desperate not to wake him, I gently removed my hand from his shoulder.

  I relaxed into the sheets, trying to keep my breathing regular. What to do? Lie here and play dead until he’d woken and showered, or creep out of bed and hide in the bathroom myself?

  I carefully turned my head a couple of degrees, then opened one eye. Charlie smiled back at me. Amused. Benevolent.

  Shit. I slammed my eye closed.

  What do you say to the guy you’ve just spent the night with, shamelessly screwing every-which-way into the wee small hours, whom really—when all’s said and done—is nothing more than a convenience?

  And here I lay, stone cold sober, with not even a smidgeon of hangover. Which ruled out dashing to the loo, vomiting heartily until he left in disgust, then catching a quiet train home. No, I had to face this one head-on.

  “Morning,” I muttered.

  He grinned. “Morning, Beautiful.”

  I turned my head and opened both eyes at him. There was far too much sunlight, and he was far too focused. Rats. I blinked hard and rubbed my eyes.

  “Thanks for coming, Becky,” he said.

  I rolled my eyes, though not at him. He chuckled. Then stopped as I pulled first one then the other eyelid down over my still-rolling eyes.

  “Are you okay?”

  I released my eyelids. “I didn’t take out my lenses last night. They need to re-lubricate.”

  Another chuckle. �
�Sounds like fun. Can I help?”

  “Funny.” He was enjoying this whole morning-after thing far too much. I closed my eyes again, but my skin goosebumped under his steady gaze. “Um, about last night.”

  “Mmm?”

  I felt like I needed to say something—but what? Acknowledge that coffee had evolved into something considerably more intimate? Reassure him that I, Ms Modern, posed no threat to his bachelorhood?

  Shite. Our families went back way too far for him to be good one-night stand material. And he’d proved himself a one-hundred-per-cent Genuinely Nice Guy, yet another indicator he was absolutely the wrong choice. You don’t do one-nighters with GNG’s who know your mum.

  I opened my now-fully-functional eyes and the GNG was still there, lying butt-naked beside me, a smile dancing on his lips.

  “Well, see, I—” I stopped, rephrased. “I just wanted to—”

  Damn. Why did this have to be so awkward?

  Without any awkwardness at all, Charlie leaned close and planted a kiss on my nose. “You just wanted to . . . do it all again?”

  “No! I—”

  “Shame.” He gave me a lopsided grin. “Ah well. You make the coffees, then.”

  I abandoned my morning-after speech and forced myself to relax. “Sorry. I’m shattered. Can’t move.”

  His grin broadened. “Shall we test that?”

  “You’ve got a one-track mind.” I wrinkled my nose at him. Stretched, cat-like, and noticed a few aching muscles.

  I shot him a sidelong look. “Coffee with you should be against the law.”

  He traced a finger down my collarbone and over my breast. “You like the idea of being cuffed, huh?”

  “No!”

  I had a sudden image of Matt, standing before me with a glint in his eye and cuffs in his hand. Delicious heat uncoiled within me. My pulse kicked up.

  “Methinks she protests too much.” Charlie’s hand travelled down towards my waist, taking the sheet as it went.

  I tugged the sheet back up. He probably had a point, but unless Matt was the one doing the arresting . . .

  Charlie flipped me onto my back, whipped the sheet away, and moved on top of me. His lips hovered over mine. “Want to play cops and robbers?”

  Matt reappeared, and this time he was wearing nothing but a policeman’s hat. He cuffed me and kissed me and . . .

  Oh God. This was wrong. Why was I in bed with Charlie, when all I really wanted was Matt?

  Charlie locked my arms above my head, his free hand moulding my left breast, his tongue probing my mouth.

  I’d never felt more turned off. I turned my head away. “Stop. Charlie, I can’t.”

  He paused. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Everything. Shit.” I tried to move out from under him but was trapped by his weight. “Can you get off me? Sorry.”

  He rolled aside and I pulled the covers high, feeling like a born-again virgin.

  “Sorry,” I repeated. “It’s . . . I’m not in the mood. Sorry.”

  Which didn’t even begin to cover it, but I could hardly tell the man with whom I’d just spent the night that I was fantasizing about someone else.

  For a moment Charlie lay rigid beside me, hands behind his head, lips clamped and jaw locked as he stared at the ceiling. Then his mouth relaxed and he chuckled.

  I released the breath I hadn’t realised I was holding. Phew. The last thing I’d wanted was to upset him.

  “Then what,” he said, grabbing my hand and hauling it down over his rock-hard erection, “am I going to do with this?”

  “I’m sure you’ll think of something.” I whipped my hand back and scooted out of bed, self-conscious about my nudity. “I’m off for a shower.”

  I dived for the sanctuary of the ensuite and showered quickly, with frequent furtive glances at the door. When I emerged in yesterday’s work-clothes Charlie handed me a cup of coffee.

  “Thanks,” I said, trying not to look at his body and wishing he was wearing more than a towel. “Sorry about before.”

  He shrugged. “Yeah, me too. I’m off for a cold shower. Unless . . .”

  He reached for me, but I fended him off with a light, “Never come between a woman and her coffee, Hollingworth.”

  “Cold shower it is,” he concluded, his smile not quite reaching his eyes.

  I felt ashamed. What was wrong? What had changed?

  Nothing—except Matt had re-invaded my mind. Everywhere I looked, I saw him. Every thought I had went back to him. My—Dani’s—distraction plan had been a total failure. So . . . time to pull out.

  I rummaged around for my mobile and sent Liz a text message—Never take Dan’s advice. 1 night stand = bad bad idea. I re-read the message and pinched my eyes shut, repressing a shudder of shame. How could I ever have thought anything good might’ve come of it? Stupid, stupid woman.

  Within seconds Liz replied—What? You didn’t! Who? Details!

  I was still trying to work out what to tell her when Charlie emerged from the ensuite, lover-turned-executive. Ve-ry smart. It must have shown in my face because he spread his arms, inviting inspection. “Well? Do I pass?”

  I couldn’t play his game anymore. With a brisk nod I pocketed my mobile, collected my things, and walked out ahead of him.

  “What—just a nod?” he said, close behind me. “I hear I look best in a suit.”

  Oh please. Enough already. Remorse mutated into bad temper.

  “Don’t flatter yourself.” I stomped my way down the stairs. “You’re ugly, you’re crap in bed, and your suit’s naff. Let’s go.”

  “Ouch,” he said, laughter in his voice. “Careful on the corners. Your nose is growing.”

  I glared over my shoulder at him. He grinned back, unperturbed, then bleeped the Carrera and strode ahead to hold my door open for me, every inch the gentleman.

  “Thanks,” I muttered. Now I felt like an ungracious fool and a cheap slut.

  We pulled out into the traffic and I took one last look at the B&B, scene of our dirty overnighter. Back to London, back to reality, back to Matt.

  No! Not back to him. Work—yes. Him—no. Remember?

  I’d chosen my career. Therefore I had to sacrifice him.

  “Any plans for the weekend?” Charlie asked.

  I started. “Oh. Er . . . no, not really.”

  Get out of my head, Matt Frobisher.

  “Want to do coffee?” Charlie threw me a mischievous grin.

  I stared at him. Jeez. How did I end up feeling like an immoral piece of filth, while he came out of it feeling like the man about town?

  “No. I’ve got to go into work.”

  Work, Matt. Matt, work. Would I never be able to think of one without the other?

  “Ah, well, another time, then.”

  I turned and gazed sightlessly out the window. What was he doing right now? Sleeping? Working? Standing in a shower making love to some other lucky woman? Thinking about me?

  Dammit, why did I want that, anyway?

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Hey, Becs.”

  My heart skipped a beat. Why was Matt at work so early? I didn’t want to see him. Not yet. Not until I’d worked out how to deal with him. He might be able to switch his feelings on and off at will, but I wasn’t so lucky.

  The cosmos, however, didn’t care if I was ready for Matt or not; here he was. And with the coffee machine still chugging out my coffee, I couldn’t even run.

  “Hi.” I kept my gaze firmly on my mug.

  “How was your weekend?”

  My cheeks flamed. He’d seen through my migraine excuse last Friday. Or . . . feck. Maybe he knew Charlie. My palms grew clammy.

  “Average,” I said, wishing I’d pressed Disappearo instead of Cappuccino. I didn’t want to feel ashamed of my night with Charlie, but I did.

  “As long as you got rid of your headache?”

  “Eventually.” I turned sugar-stirring into an art form.

  “I’m glad.”

 
He lingered, and my jaw clenched tight. What more did he want? A time series analysis of my pain levels? Or was he trying to psych me into a Charlie confession?

  I gave myself a mental shake. Less of the paranoia, Becs. Maybe he’d finally had the decency to feel bad about giving me the flick mid-date, or whatever our trip had been.

  Ha! As if. More likely he’d split with Steph and needed someone to take up the slack in his diary. Becky would do.

  Second-best Becky. Becky the gap-filler. Just-for-fun Becky.

  I glared at my coffee.

  Did he really think I’d let him blow me off one week and love me tender the next? Like hell. And now, damn it all, I’d stirred my cappuccino so hard it had become a bloody latté.

  I straightened and turned my glare on Matt.

  He blinked, frowned, cleared his throat. “You’re angry. Was it something I said?”

  “No.”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “No.”

  He regarded me as if I were a troublesome teen. “Well, if you’re going to look daggers at me like that, the least you can do is tell me why.”

  What—so he could have a good laugh at me? I pursed my lips.

  “Come on, get it off your chest. It’ll make you feel better. Besides, we have to work together.”

  Ah, yes, work. Couldn’t have work being affected, could we?

  I ground my teeth. “Is there a problem with my work?”

  “No, not at all. I—”

  “Then why mention it?”

  He exhaled. “My mistake. Forget work.”

  He raked his fringe up off his face. “Look, I get it. You’re upset.” He paused. “It’s about our trip to the Kinetix Centre, isn’t it?”

  I hugged my coffee close, said nothing.

  “That sudden change of plans really screwed things up, didn’t it?”

  Suddenly I didn’t feel angry. I just felt sad; tearful, even. Didn’t he see? Plans changed; that wasn’t the issue. The issue was his change towards me. I bit my cheek.

  Matt eyes, concerned and caring, searched mine. I didn’t trust his eyes, though. Not anymore. I didn’t trust him.

  He nodded, gently took my coffee from me and placed it on the bench.