by Fiona Harper
She wasn’t foolish enough to say, Do what? After glancing away for a second, she tilted her chin up and met his gaze.
‘That’s better.’
He smiled and, just like that, any residual awkwardness she’d been feeling evaporated. There was such warmth and light in his eyes, so many possibilities, that she felt an answering smile spread over her own face. So they stood there like that for goodness knew how long, grinning stupidly at each other, saying nothing and everything.
Then his eyes sobered and began to communicate all sorts of other things. Louise didn’t wait for him this time. There wasn’t much of a difference in their heights, and she reached up behind his neck and pulled him closer, lifting her heels off the floor just slightly.
Kissing Ben Oliver on a snow-dusted balcony on Christmas morning had to be one of the most romantic things she’d ever done. Not only were the kisses perfect, but the crisp cold air on her cheeks and the chill in her toes only seemed to increase the heat spreading from her core. She felt as if she was glowing from the inside out, so much so that shivers rippled through her.
Ben pulled away, just enough to focus on each other without going cross-eyed, and tucked the quilt tighter around her.
‘How do you feel about cold curry for breakfast?’
She grinned. ‘My absolute favourite.’
And, as he playfully pulled her back inside the boathouse, she took one last look at the picture-perfect scene outside. The river reflected the colour of the iron sky perfectly and smoke puffed from the chimneys in the village across the river. As far as the eye could see, the rolling hills were bleached and frosted like the icing on a giant Christmas cake.
It didn’t matter to Louise if winter had stolen all the shades and tones and left everything monochrome. To her, this morning, life was very much in Technicolor.
Ben ran up to his bedroom, slammed the door open and stripped all his clothes off in under a minute. The last sock still hadn’t hit the floor when he’d run into his bathroom and jumped in the shower.
He felt like a man possessed. Like a man with too much adrenaline coursing through his system, who was about to spontaneously combust. Realising he had just started to wash himself with conditioner, he forced himself to stand still and take a few deep breaths.
No good. He still felt like whooping aloud, or running down the street and knocking on every door just to tell them he’d kissed the most astounding, marvellous, complicated woman in the world and, once he was clean and changed, he was going to go back and do it again.
He yelled as shampoo got in his eye.
Slow down!
This time he was more successful. He managed to rest one hand against the tiled shower wall and watch the rise and fall of his chest slow a little. Relax. You can do it.
He finished his shower in a speed that could be classified more as ‘brisk efficiency’ than ‘mania’, cleaned his teeth and wandered back into the bedroom, whistling, a towel slung round his hips.
What time was it? He checked the digital alarm clock on his bedside table. Ten.
That meant he’d been gone about forty-five minutes. And it would probably be another hour until he saw her again.
Without really paying attention to what he was rummaging for in his chest of drawers, he pulled out clean clothes and got dressed. One last look in the mirror. He ran his hand through his wet hair, then stilled. Was this what Louise saw? A thirty-six-year old with dark hair and brown eyes? That description could probably fit hundreds of thousands of men up and down the country. Apart from the insane grin he just couldn’t wipe away completely, he was just an ordinary guy.
Okay, he wasn’t desperately bad-looking, but he’d be kidding himself if he thought he could compete with the men in Louise’s world. A world in which he clearly didn’t belong.
But Louise isn’t with one of them, a little voice whispered gleefully in his ear. She’s with you. She kissed you. Heck, she even wanted to make love with you.
At that point he told his male pride to get a grip.
Even so, the unquenchable grin widened.
He grabbed his watch, fastened it on his wrist and jumped down the stairs only two at a time. But when he got downstairs he couldn’t find his keys. He never lost his keys. He searched the pockets of his jacket, which he found on the floor rather than on its usual hook. Nothing. Rather than dropping it again, he pulled it on.
A panicky feeling started to breathe fire in his stomach. He had to get back! He’d be late!
For what? the sane side of himself said. There’s no timetable. So what if you arrive there at five past eleven rather than on the dot?
Okay, now he was scaring himself. He sat down on one of the chairs in the kitchen and thought about where he could have possibly left his keys since he’d run through the front door. Best thing was to retrace his steps. He went to the cottage door, opened it and found his bunch of keys dangling in the lock.
What was happening to him? The sky was under his feet and the earth above his head. When exactly had the universe turned itself inside out so everything was back to front? An image popped into his mind: Louise, wrapped in a quilt, standing on the boathouse balcony, tipping her head up to meet his eyes and daring him to love her.
It was a challenge he hadn’t refused, he realised.
He loved Louise.
Now he wasn’t so sure he wanted to wake all his neighbours up and share the news. Was he crazy? Quite possibly. How could whatever was happening between them have a future? His head told him to back out now; his heart told him not to lose faith.
With one startling flash he understood that the tables had been turned. He’d set out to be what Louise needed and, in the end, he’d discovered he needed her so badly it hurt. Fear sliced through him at the thought that there might not be a happy ending to this story.
He pulled his keys out of the lock and returned them to his pocket, then closed the door. He’d loved Megan, he was sure of that, but she’d never shaken his foundations like Louise did. What did that mean? Was this romance doomed or did that promise great things?
He ought to stay away, he decided. He ought to make an excuse to back out and stay away. That was the sensible thing to do. He nodded to himself, took off his jacket and carefully placed it on its hook.
Five minutes later he was in his dinghy, motoring across the river in the direction of the boathouse jetty.
Christmas was its own little universe for Louise and Ben. They shared a festive dinner of lasagne, which Louise found in the freezer, then retreated to the boathouse for the evening, where they talked and laughed and kissed and wished—not out loud, of course. Some things were far too delicate to be spoken aloud.
But this little universe was finite and, as night fell on Boxing Day, ugly reality started to shred the perfect picture they’d created.
Louise was sitting in one of the wicker chairs close to the fire with a book in her lap and Ben was stretched out on the day bed, trying not to doze. Suddenly, he raised his head and looked at her.
‘Louise?’
Her heart did a silly leap. Shouldn’t she be able to control that by now? It had started on Christmas morning when he’d reappeared, slightly damp and smiling, at her back door with a Christmas pudding big enough for ten and a bottle of port. Now, that was the way to spend Christmas. Especially if it involved being spoonfed the pudding in front of the fire.
She couldn’t remember a Christmas as perfect. Not even Jack’s first Christmas. Toby had spoiled it by getting drunk and disappearing off to a nightclub with one of his useless so-called friends.
‘What’s up?’ she said carefully.
Ben shifted himself on to one elbow. ‘What are we doing?’
‘Well, I’m supposed to be reading that biography about Laura I borrowed from you and you’re trying to pretend you didn’t finish off the last quarter of that plum pudding.’
Ben didn’t laugh as she expected him to. He gave a half smile, then jumped off the day bed and drew the
other chair over so he could sit opposite her. He took her hands in his. ‘No, I mean you and me. What is this?’
She folded the book closed and placed it on the coffee table. Laura’s carefree smile and laughing eyes in the cover picture mocked her. She bet Laura wouldn’t have got all tied up in knots about something like this. Laura would probably have said something droll and had her lover swooning at her feet in this kind of situation. But Ben wasn’t her lover, and it seemed that she was the one in most danger of swooning at present. This was all so new—this thing with Ben—that sometimes it felt raw, even though it was wonderful at the same time.
‘Ben Oliver, are you asking me if I want to be your girlfriend?’
There. That was as droll as she could manage. But she didn’t manage to pull off the knowing sophistication that was supposed to go with it when he leaned in close, gave her a soppy grin and said, ‘Yeah, I suppose I am.’
She grabbed him by the shirt collar and pulled him in close for a long, slow kiss.
He rested his forehead against hers. ‘It’s just that…’
What? Her heart began to thump. It was too perfect. Something had to go wrong, didn’t it?
‘Jas is home tomorrow and…’
She nodded. This had been a time out of time. Tomorrow they had to go back to their real lives, which seemed to be on parallel tracks, running close, but maybe never destined to cross and merge again.
‘I understand, Ben.’
He pulled away and looked intently at her face. ‘No…No, Louise. I meant…what are we going to say to the kids? Are we going to keep this a secret or are we going to shout it from the rooftops? It’s a delicate situation and we need to decide how to handle it.’
Relief flooded through her. Followed hastily by confusion. What were they going to tell the children? Jack was the worst blabbermouth known to man. She frowned. ‘Do we want to tell anyone?’
And, more to the point, what would they say if they did? Everything was so new between them. How should they define it? Of course, there would be far-reaching consequences as well.
‘You do realise that we might get media attention if we go public?’ she said.
Ben’s face was a picture of surprise, as if he’d totally forgotten about that side of her life. That only made her want to kiss him again. Everybody else always saw the glitter first and nothing second.
For the first time in days, she felt as if she were on familiar territory. ‘Believe me, you don’t want photographers camped on your doorstep. Why do you think I chose to live in such a remote place as Whitehaven? In the village, you and Jas would be easy pickings.’
‘Jas?’ There was more than a hint of panic in his voice. ‘You think they’d take pictures of Jas?’
Just great. This relationship was dead in the water before it had even begun, wasn’t it? She knew Ben well enough to know that creating a ‘normal’ life for his daughter was paramount.
She stroked his arm. ‘Who knows? The paparazzi are a law unto themselves. But I think we have to consider the possibility.’
They both stared at one another.
There were no easy answers to this one. The only way to really protect Ben and Jasmine was to call the whole thing off right now. She broke eye contact and stared at her feet. Just the thought of saying goodbye to Ben now made her hurt—physically hurt. Cold fear shot through her. Contemplating the possibility of losing him brought things sharply into focus: somewhere along the line, she’d fallen in love with Ben Oliver.
He gently brushed his fingers under her chin and tipped her face up to look at him. ‘Hey.’ The word was filled with such tender softness, she felt her eyes moisten. He smiled at her. ‘I told you before—I’m not going anywhere, okay?’
She nodded and the cold, sharp feeling gradually withdrew.
‘Here is my idea,’ he said. ‘We tell Jas and Jack—because they’re going to work it out pretty soon anyway—but we don’t tell anyone else yet. It will buy us some time, give us and the kids a chance to get used to things first.’
Sensible. He wanted to wait before letting the world know, just in case it didn’t work out.
‘I’ve got to wait at home for Megan to bring Jas back tomorrow, but I still want to see you.’
Good. She wanted to see him too. And she was greedily going to grab every chance to be with him.
‘Jas is due back at noon and it’s going to be quiet tomorrow—everyone recovering after Christmas. If you come for one o’clock and drive round, using the lanes rather than coming through the village, nobody will see you. Once you’re there, we’ll put your car in the garage.’
She smiled at him. Maybe this could be fun. Maybe she’d get to live her dream life for just a little bit longer before it all came crashing down around their ears.
CHAPTER NINE
THE roar of a distant car engine got louder. Ben knew not to hope that this would be Megan bringing Jas back. She’d rung twenty minutes ago saying she was ‘running a little late’. And usually when Megan said ‘late’, she didn’t mean ten minutes late. He’d be lucky if he saw Jas before teatime. Megan had probably only just left the country house hotel near Stow-on-the-Wold where they’d been staying—not that her breezy message had communicated anything of the sort. He just knew.
Abruptly, the engine cut out and he dashed outside to open the garage doors. This must be Louise. He checked his watch. Yup, five minutes early. From one extreme to the other.
Mind you, if Louise was an extreme, he was quite happy being stuck out there in left field. Yes, the ride was going to be a little bumpy, but he could really see things working out between them.
Louise grinned at him from her car as he guided her inside and closed the garage door behind her. He walked round to the driver’s window and waited as she pressed a button to wind it down. Acting on impulse, he leaned in through the open window and surprised her with a hot, sweet kiss.
The rush of endorphins he got every time he just laid eyes on her was amazing, but a long-lasting relationship took more than just feel-good chemicals whizzing round his system. While Louise wasn’t the high-maintenance woman he’d mistaken her for, she was still smarting from a recent divorce. Only a fool would rush in too quickly, and he had never been a fool.
A crick in his neck forced him to draw back and let her out of the car.
‘Good morning, yourself,’ she said, smiling sweetly at him. Then she looked around. ‘Where’s Jas? I would have thought you’d have wanted to talk to her first, rather than have her catching us like that.’
He grimaced. ‘Megan is running late. So I have you to myself for the next couple of hours. Come on.’ He tangled his fingers with hers and pulled her out of the side door of the garage and across the garden, where small patches of snow still lingered. Most of the village was now back to normal, a warm wind from the west having melted the snow in all but the shadiest of spots.
Once through the back door, they fell into each other’s arms again. The endorphins started partying.
Louise was different this morning, calmer, more peaceful. Since Christmas Eve she’d been like a skittish horse, jumping at every little thing, sensing danger where there was none. But something had changed. He could tell it from the way she kissed and held him, from the sound of her voice, even the way she moved.
Still kissing her, he pulled her hat and scarf off and threw them in random directions. She laughed against his lips. ‘Not fair,’ she murmured. ‘You’ve only got your indoor clothes on.’
She undid the top button of her coat, but left the others fastened as she kissed him again. Everything went blurry for a bit and all he was aware of was the sweet spiciness of her perfume, the shallowness of their breathing, the pull of her fingers as they hooked into the belt loops of his jeans and contracted into fists.
Then, after hesitating for a second, she ran her hands under his sweater. He flinched as her cold fingers met his warm flesh, but the sensation was anything but unpleasant. The contrast of temperatures onl
y heightened the sensation. He pulled her closer and deepened the kiss. Louise responded eagerly, surprising him by sliding her hands up his back, taking the sweater with them. Cold air rushed around his torso. Hot blood pumped through his veins.
Finding it impossible to go any further without breaking lip contact, she pulled back from him and continued to tug his top upwards. Just before she pulled it over his head, she looked him in the eyes. They stayed there like that while the kitchen clock loudly announced the seconds.
Wordlessly, he lifted his arms over his head and she disappeared as his sweater blocked his vision. The jumper went the same way as her scarf and hat.
‘Not fair,’ he said, trying very hard not to let on he was shaking. And he didn’t think it was because he was cold. ‘You’ve still got your outdoor clothes on.’
He reached for her, first dealing with the remaining large buttons on the front of her coat and pushing it off her shoulders, before stroking her face with his fingertips. That perfect bone structure might have produced a proud beauty, but he knew that the woman inside was soft and tender, carrying the scars of the years. He wouldn’t add to them. He promised himself that.
The teasing humour evaporated and suddenly everything felt very serious, momentous. Should he stop her now? Was she really ready for this? What Louise wanted and what Louise needed might be two very different things.
‘Louise…’
She silenced him with a kiss. ‘You have to trust me to make my own decisions, Ben. And I’ve decided…’
He kissed her fiercely, then drew back to look at her, hoping his eyes conveyed the storm surge of feeling that was crashing over him. ‘You know I love you, don’t you?’ She had to have guessed. It was stamped in every look he gave her, in every touch.
Her lips quivered and she tried to smile. A fat tear rolled down one cheek. ‘No, I didn’t.’ Her answering kiss was rich and soulful. ‘But I do now.’ Her hands traced the muscles of his chest and he felt them quiver in response. ‘Show me, Ben. Show me how much…’