Better Together

by Annalisa Carr

  “No.” He scowled. “And I was fifteen then.”

  “So this thing with Tinkerbelle?”

  He increased his pace. “I don’t know. I really like her, but she’s just not my type. She says I’m not hers either.”

  “You’ve got a type?” Francesca asked.

  “I thought I did. I thought Sasha was it. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “So why the lunch invitation?” She nudged him with her elbow. “Come on, Aiden. Seriously?”

  “I need to talk to you.”

  “What’s wrong?” She looked alarmed. “Is it father?”

  Aiden snorted. “You’d be more likely to know about that than me.”

  She shook her head. “We’re not really on good terms at the moment. I know he’s not been well, but really? Putting you in charge? I’ve been working for him for years. It was a slap in the face.”

  “You know what he’s like. Anyway, as far as I know, he’s doing okay,” Aiden said. “Aren’t you going to dinner on Saturday night?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’ll see him then.”

  “I see him,” she said. “I just don’t talk to him. I’ll see your fiancée then as well.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t call her that. Nothing’s settled yet. You’ll scare her off.”

  “Sasha told me—”

  “Yeah,” Aiden said. “I was trying to convince her to back off. She’s not easily discouraged.”

  “I like Sasha,” Francesca said.

  “I like Sasha too,” Aiden said. “I just think that if I married her, one of us would be dead within a year. Thank God she dumped me.”

  Francesca laughed as Aiden pointed at the bistro.

  “I’ve booked a table.”

  They were shown to a round table in a quiet corner of the restaurant, and Aiden ordered a bottle of wine before the waiter left.

  “Don’t you intend to do any work this afternoon?” Francesca said.

  Aiden rested his elbows on the table and looked at her. “I think we’re going to need a drink.”

  Francesca narrowed her eyes at him. “What’s going on?”

  The waiter arrived with a bottle of chilled white wine and poured it into glasses. Aiden waved him away as he offered a taste. “It’ll be fine.”

  “Come on.” Francesca ignored her glass. “You’ve got me worried.”

  Aiden told her about his father’s suspicions and why he’d been dragged back across the Atlantic to look into them.

  “You’re not telling me he thought I might have something to do with this?”

  “No.” Aiden picked his glass up and swirled the contents. He really didn’t want to have to tell her.

  “Aiden? For God’s sake get to the point.”

  “He didn’t suspect you,” he said. “But you are part of the senior management team. He thought you’d be too close.”

  “I—”

  “I would have told you,” Aiden said, “but I wasn’t sure he wasn’t being paranoid, and I didn’t want to stir things up for no reason.”

  “So why are you telling me now?”

  “I’ve called an external auditing firm in.”

  “Good.” Francesca sipped at her wine.

  “Francesca . . .”

  “What?” She put her glass down. “Why are you looking like that? It’s not good, but at least we know about it.”

  He took a deep breath. “I think Gareth might be involved.”

  Francesca’s eyes widened. “No.”

  “I found some incriminating emails. I’m sorry I—”

  “I don’t believe you,” she said. “Gareth wouldn’t do this. Why should he? He’s independently rich.”

  Aiden was clueless about Gareth’s financial affairs. “I hope I’m wrong,” he said. “That’s why I called in the auditors. I thought they would be independent and thorough.”

  “They’ll find out who it really was.” Francesca looked down at the snowy table cloth. “I can’t believe . . .” Her voice trailed off.

  “I’m sorry,” Aiden repeated. “I felt I should warn you in case they found anything.”

  “They won’t.” Francesca looked up, her eyes fierce. “Not about Gareth. I’m going to ask him about this.”

  “No.” Aiden reached across the table and grabbed her hand. “You can’t do that. I’m trusting you to keep quiet.”

  “He’s my fiancé.” Francesca snatched her hand away. “I love him. How am I supposed to keep something like this from him?”

  “Could you go away for a few days?”

  She gave him a look of disbelief. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve work to do, and anyway, I’ve been commanded to turn up for dinner tomorrow.” She finished the wine in her glass and poured another.

  “Francesca—”

  “I won’t tell him,” she said. “But, when you find the real culprit, I want an apology. To Gareth as well.” She gulped down the wine and stood up. “I’m not hungry. I’m going home. Tell my PA to cancel anything I’ve got on this afternoon.” She grabbed her bag and stalked out.

  Aiden sighed and summoned the waiter. That had gone as well as he’d expected.

  Chapter 19

  Aiden turned up at nine o’clock on Saturday morning, driving an outsize SUV.

  Tallulah opened the door and stood on the top step while she stared at it. It was a glossy chestnut brown and looked brand new (to her eyes, at least). She couldn’t imagine how he’d managed to get it along her narrow street.

  “Where did you get that monstrosity?”

  “I hired it.” He removed his sunglasses and folded his arms. “Don’t you like it?”

  She shook her head. It was the first time she’d seen him without the trappings of management; at least since she’d started working for him. He wore faded jeans that hung low on his hips, a concert tee-shirt, which was so old she couldn’t tell which band it had once promoted, and sneakers on his feet. His dark hair hung over his face, and he looked more relaxed than she’d ever seen him. She squashed her urge to grab him, drag him back to her room, and tear the clothes off. For one thing, Kyle was still asleep on the sofa.

  “It’s to help transport your stuff.” He was so pleased with himself that she couldn’t bring herself to burst his bubble.

  “I haven’t got that much,” she said. “But thanks.”

  He followed her upstairs. “What time do you have to be there?”

  “I’d like to arrive about ten,” she said. “That gives me time to hang my work. The fair opens at eleven.”

  “We’d better leave now then,” he said. “The traffic’s probably going to be bad.”

  She picked up one of the two portfolios she’d placed by the door. They weren’t huge, but she let him take the other one.

  He grabbed the strap and stood back to let her go down the stairs first. Her denim cut-offs exposed most of her legs, and she could feel his eyes on her all the way down. On her feet were similar sneakers to his, and without heels, she was conscious of her lack of height. She glanced over her shoulder to catch him staring at her butt. His gaze rose to the level of her head, and she narrowed her eyes at him.

  He grinned.

  They put the artwork on the backseat.

  As she walked round to the passenger door, he stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Are you going to dinner like that?”

  She looked down at herself. A very old tee-shirt with the sleeves torn out matched her cut-offs. She’d assumed she could change before leaving for Surrey. “I thought we’d come back here before going to your parents.”

  He shook his head. “We won’t have time. I’ve got a change of clothes in the car. I think you look great as you are, but you might feel a bit out of p
lace.”

  “Okay.” With a sigh, she ran back up the stairs and grabbed the indigo tie-dyed skirt and blouse she intended to wear, picked up some jewelled sandals, and ran down again. She tossed them on top of the art folders.

  Aiden backed the huge vehicle out of the narrow street.

  Tallulah waited until he’d turned onto Gray’s Inn Road. “We’re going to be hot and sweaty by the end of the afternoon. Are you sure there won’t be time to go home?”

  “Absolutely sure, but I’ll sneak you into the house before dinner. We can have a shower and change there.”

  Tallulah tugged on her ponytail, dragging it higher on her head. I can’t believe I’m doing this. He must have hypnotized me. Or something. Never before had any of her lovers (not that there’d been many) dragged her to meet their parents. She’d never reached that level of commitment, and she hadn’t with Aiden either. So why am I in this mess? I must be as mad as him.

  At least he was useful at the fair, insisting on hanging her work on the boards provided; a great help since her lack of height always made her struggle to get them into position.

  He hung the last one, a large-scale trial work for her graphic novel. It showed an angel-like creature, with the teeth of a shark, swooping down on a cowering couple. He stood back and examined it. “It tells a story.”

  “That’s what it’s meant to do,” she told him. “I did it as a proposal for a comic.”

  “Who buys it?” he asked. “Who’s your target customer?”

  She laughed. “I don’t think I’ve got a target, but the people who buy my work tend to be young. Students or arty types. That’s why I don’t charge much for them.”

  “Hmm.” Aiden walked along the row, examining them in more detail. “Can you really make a living from this sort of thing?”

  “I don’t know,” Tallulah said. “I suppose I’ll find out. There’re other opportunities that I’m exploring as well. I’ve just started to work with comic writers and graphic novelists. Some of this sort of art can be sold as postcards. I don’t know yet. It’s something you have to build up.”

  Aiden walked back, still examining the pictures. “Can I buy one?”

  “I wouldn’t have thought they were your sort of thing.”

  “They aren’t, but I do like them. They have energy.” He raised an eyebrow.

  “I’ll show you my portfolio sometime,” she said. “There’s more choice there.”

  He nodded, and she assumed he’d forget. Her work was not the sort of art she imagined hanging on his walls.

  The afternoon was scorching, humid, and close. Tallulah knew her face was red and shiny by mid-afternoon, and several of the artists had already gone, the oppressive weather too much for them. Aiden had disappeared briefly to look round some of the work of other exhibitors.

  At half past four, the heavens darkened to a steel blue, and the rumble of thunder echoed over London. Tallulah turned her face up to the sky. It loomed threateningly close, and a large drop of water landed on her upturned forehead.

  Aiden appeared at the end of the row, jogging towards her. “Quick,” he said. “I think it’s going to rain.”

  “No shit.” Another drop of water splashed onto her head. She still had three unsold paintings from the ten she’d brought with her, and with Aiden’s help, she unfastened them from the board and placed them in the plastic protector as the rain started to fall in earnest.

  Tallulah had never experienced a tropical storm, but her imagination told her this one must be similar—a wave of water falling from the sky. The two of them ran across the grass of the square to where the car was parked. Aiden threw both portfolios on the backseat and opened the passenger door for Tallulah. He was soaked, dark hair plastered against his forehead and tee-shirt clinging to his chest. His faded jeans were dark with water.

  “Get in.” He gave her a small push.

  She scrambled in while he ran around to the driver’s side.

  “We’re definitely going to need a shower now.” He ran his eyes over Tallulah. “Your tee-shirt’s see-through.”

  Tallulah glanced down at her chest. Her nipples poked against the dark material, and she shivered despite the warmth. The rain hadn’t brought the temperature down. “Don’t look.”

  Aiden raised an incredulous eyebrow. “I’m male,” he said. “Of course I’m going to look.”

  Tallulah rolled her eyes and lifted her hands to squeeze the water out of her hair. It ran down her back and onto the seat. “Come on Aiden,” she said. “Get a grip. Start driving.”

  Aiden pushed the wet hair away from his face, dragged his attention from her chest area, and started the car. The windscreen wipers swept to and fro at their top speed, but it was still difficult to see the road ahead. He pulled to a halt in a side-street and slumped backwards in his seat. “It can’t go on like this for much longer.”

  “You wish.” It looked to Tallulah as if there was plenty of water still in the clouds.

  “We’ll give it ten minutes.” He switched the engine off. “It’s dangerous. I can’t see a thing.”

  Tallulah peered out of the rain-streaked window. “I suppose we needed rain.” She glanced at Aiden. He was staring at her breasts again. She snapped her fingers.

  “What?” He met her eyes.

  “Just stop it.”

  He grinned and undid his seatbelt.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m going to kiss you. Is that okay?”

  She held up her hand. “We aren’t really engaged, you know? I’m still pretty annoyed with you, and I’ve got serious doubts about your sanity. I’m not sure that I’m open to kissing.”

  He pushed a damp strand of hair behind her ear before undoing her seatbelt. “I’ll make it up to you.”

  She let her hand drop to his shoulder. Heat radiated from his body, wet cotton clung to his chest and flat stomach, and a drop of water fell from the ends of his hair onto her neck, slipping under the top of her tee-shirt. She took a deep breath as his lips touched hers, lingering lightly for a moment, giving her the chance to push him away. She didn’t take it.

  A warm hand rested on her bare thigh, the fingertips sliding under the hem of her shorts to stroke the damp skin. Her mouth opened in a gasp, and his tongue slid inside. Drawing back, he kissed the corner of her mouth, then the place where her jaw met her neck. She made a small noise, lifted her hand to tangle in his damp hair, and turned her head to take his mouth with hers. Lifting her other hand, she held his head captive. He slid his hands under her bottom and pulled her out of her seat, across to his side, shifting to accommodate the gear stick.

  Keeping her mouth on his, she placed one hand against his damp chest, her palm snagging on his nipple. He made an interesting noise, so she did it again.

  He pulled away and whispered in her ear. “My turn.” His hand slid down her shoulder, and he flattened his palm against her breast.

  She gasped and sagged against him.

  “You like that?” His mouth caressed her ear.

  “Mmm.” She couldn’t speak as his hand moved in slow circles. She clutched his tee-shirt. “Oh, God. Yes.”

  “You’re not wearing anything under this are you?”

  “Mmm?” Why’s he trying to talk?

  The hand drifted over her ribcage and pulled at the bottom of her shirt, pressing the damp material against her hyper-sensitized nipples. His warm palm rested on the bare skin of her stomach. He rested his forehead against her shoulder.

  She drew in a ragged breath.

  He sat back. “The rain’s a bit lighter.”

  Tallulah shuffled back to her own seat and glanced out of the side window, rubbing at it with her hand to clear the fog. The rain still looked heavy, but she could see through it. “What was all that about?” It was
an effort to construct a coherent sentence.

  “I wanted to kiss you. I want you.”

  “Really?” Like she hadn’t noticed? I want him as well.

  “I think about it a lot.”

  “Aiden?”

  “Yes?”

  “We aren’t really engaged.” She pointed a finger at him. Why do I have to keep reminding him? “You need to remember that. We’re having a fling. Maybe.”

  He laughed. “Who knows what the future holds.”

  “I’m not getting married, and I don’t want children.” She glared at him suspiciously.

  “That’s what I told Sasha.” He started the engine. “I’m happy with a fling for now.”

  For now? What does that mean? “And I’m angry with you.”

  “I like the way you’re angry.” His gaze slid sideways to her.

  “I spent enough time looking after my brother and sisters. I’ve done my bit.” She needed to make sure he understood what she was saying. “I’m not ready for another commitment.” Of course he doesn’t really want to marry me, she thought. Why would he?

  “Yeah? You’re a nurturer.”

  Tallulah sighed and sank back into her seat. Her body felt boneless, and an insidious heat warmed her. A pulse still throbbed between her legs. It would be so easy to give in to Aiden, and she could feel herself beginning to care about him. He was funny and outrageous, as well as being totally hot. Lust was okay; a brief affair was something she could contemplate, but she didn’t want to care. She had a plan for the next couple of years—one she would not let be derailed. Her future security was at stake. It’s enough that I have my family to worry about, and for all I know, Aiden’s interest in me is purely sexual.

  “What are you thinking about?” Aiden kept his eyes on the road.

  “A shower.”

  “Liar.” He laughed. “Do you want to know what I’m thinking about?”