Flame

by Toya Richardson

  She made her way to the counter. She felt crushed, wishing Greg had been more enthusiastic about her going to the party. She wondered what name Keith was about to mention and why he’d appeared annoyed. Greg watched her as she went up to the counter. The way she moved, her smile, everything about her was beautiful to him. The thing that turned him on even more was the fact that she was oblivious to how stunning she was. He could see a kind of innocence about her that he loved.

  ‘Wake up, Greg,’ said Keith bringing him out of his reverie.

  ‘How do you know her? You’ve shown me her picture and told me not to mention her to anyone, but you never really went in to details about how you knew her.’

  ‘She has a cottage in the village.’ He paused to watch her as she smiled at something the cashier said before continuing, ‘she used to be there all the time with her family in the holidays when she was younger. I made friends with her brother and her; I spent most of the time with Amberley though. Until the other day I hadn’t seen her for about sixteen years,’ said Greg, gazing at her intently.

  ‘If you like her that much, mate, why the hell don’t you do something about it?’

  ‘Not sure she’s that in to me. Her work seems to be the love of her life at the moment.’ He sighed in frustration.

  ‘I still think there’s something going on between the two of you, Greg.’

  ‘I don’t think so, Keith.’

  ‘Okay, have it your way. I will give you a word of warning though. If you really are just friends then she’ll be fair game for any of the single guys at the beach party who show interest in her.’

  Greg let out an almost feral growl at the thoughts of any other man kissing her the way he had the other night.

  ‘Over my dead body,’ he mumbled to himself.

  ***

  As they said their goodbyes, Amberley looked at Greg who was deep in thought.

  ‘Penny for them?’ she asked, nudging his arm.

  ‘Just thinking about the business, that’s all,’ he said guiding her towards the exit, ‘let’s go.’

  In the car, he was still quiet, thoughtful.

  ‘Let me cook you a meal at the cottage when we get back as a thank you for taking me out today. I’ll need to stop off for some supplies on the way home; it would be great if you’d say yes… unless you have other plans.’ She suggested to him, praying that he didn’t.

  ‘No, it’s nothing that can’t wait. How could I refuse such a kind offer?’

  They stopped at a farm shop on the way back. Greg went to get out but Amberley pushed him gently back inside. ‘No, you wait here. I don’t want you to see what I’m getting, it’ll be a surprise.’

  ‘I hope it’s better than the last meal you cooked for Simon and me,’ he said, trying, not very successfully, to hide his laughter.

  ‘What do you mean by that?’ she asked, turning back to face him.

  ‘You did beans on toast for us and as I remember the beans were stuck to the bottom of the saucepan and the toast was black.’Amberley laughed at the memory.

  ‘Oh God, I had forgotten all about that disaster. I’ll promise to try and make a better meal for you than that one.’

  ***

  ‘Now,’ said Amberley, as they got back to the cottage. ‘You sit in here while I sort out dinner. Come anywhere near this kitchen and you’ll be for it.’ She warned him.

  ‘Oh I wish,’ he muttered.

  Amberley popped her head round the door. ‘Sorry, what did you say?’

  ‘Nothing,’ he replied, relieved she’d not heard what he’d said.

  ‘Put some music on if you want to. There’s a pile of CDs under the coffee table.’

  After a while, she came in carrying a bottle of what looked like champagne and two glasses.

  ‘I stuck this in the freezer as soon as we got in. I hope it’s chilled enough.’

  Greg looked at the label on the bottle. ‘Hey, this is local sparkling wine. I’ve had it once before it’s a fantastic choice.’

  ‘Well, I thought it was appropriate to celebrate the start of your new venture with something Cornish. In fact everything is local, even the recipe for dinner.’

  He scooped her up in a big hug and kissed her lightly on the lips. Gently, he stroked the hair away from her face. She trembled under his touch.

  ‘That’s a really lovely gesture. Thank you, it means a lot to me. Here,’ he said, holding out the flutes to her, ‘you hold the glasses and I’ll pour.’

  ‘Here’s to a successful future for you and your magnificent project,’ she said, touching her glass with Greg’s, their fingers connecting lightly once again. She burned at that slightest of touches. His eyes bored deeply into hers, desire hit her with a force she’d never felt before.

  ‘You go and sit down. Dinner won’t be too much longer.’

  He went to reach for her but she moved swiftly out of his grasp, to the relative safety of the kitchen. If he touched her again, she may just say to hell with the friendship and enjoy the moment. Although she knew she’d regret it if she did.

  Greg noticed there were several candles on the table; he lit them all and turned the dimmer switch for the main light down, so that the whole room was lit by a soft glow.

  ‘Dinner’s ready.’ She informed him a short while later.

  She brought in a bowl of buttered new potatoes, fresh salad and then two plates with omelettes on.

  ‘I didn’t burn anything, hopefully it will taste okay,’ she said, a hint of apprehension in her voice.

  After they had helped themselves to salad and potatoes she said, ‘It’s only simple but I got the recipe out of a local cook book – is it okay? If you don’t like it I could find something else,’ her tone hesitant.

  ‘This is perfect, Amberley, you’ve used Cornish Yarg, it’s my favourite cheese,’ he said, taking hold of her hand. She found it difficult to breathe every time he touched her. It was as if she had had an electric shock, which caressed everything female inside her.

  ‘It’s just called Cornish cheese, bacon and sage omelette,’ she told him.

  ‘The flavours are amazing and so fresh, thank you.’

  They ate their meal, making gentle conversation. She tried to keep her mind from wondering too far, but it was hard. He did something crazy to her insides. After dinner, they retired to the sofa. He brought her hand up to his lips kissing it softly, all the while his eyes on hers. She jumped up quickly.

  ‘I’ll just get dessert,’ she said. ‘Nothing fancy, although it’s my favourite.’

  He topped up their glasses and relaxed back into the sofa. The feelings he had for her were beginning to drive him insane. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could control his need for her. His body demanded that he take her and love her all night long – if only it was that simple.

  ‘Shut your eyes and don’t open them until I tell you to,’ she instructed, with a mischievous smile on her face.

  Greg felt her sit beside him; he could smell the light floral and vanilla fragrance of her perfume. His breathing became irregular; he desperately tried to concentrate on mundane things, anything apart from wanting her.

  ‘Open your eyes.’

  She held out a bowl full of strawberries and clotted cream. Greg smiled.

  They ate them, laughing. They reminded each other of their childhood, when they’d sneak into the farmer’s field and go strawberry munching. When they had finished she left the bowls on the coffee table, she felt too warm and drowsy to move. Without thinking, Amberley curled her legs up on the sofa and snuggled up next to Greg. He put his arm around her shoulder and they sat in companionable silence. It felt so right to be this close to him. After a while, she turned to face him, resting one arm on the top of the sofa looking intently at him.

  She paused for a moment, playing with her champagne glass, and then she drank deeply. ‘Tell me something, Greg. How do you go about planning and painting a portrait?’

  He drained his glass and turned back to look at her.r />
  ‘I’ve only done a couple; to be honest it’s not really my forte. There’s a lot of preparation involved. I like to do it the way the old masters used to. It’s time consuming and I only paint them in oils, never water colours.’

  He put the remaining wine in their glasses, took a sip and continued, ‘preparation is everything which is true of most things, like making a meal… or making love to a beautiful woman.’

  Amberley’s pulse quickened as she listened to his voice, the look in his eyes and the resonance of his voice made her feel weak. She bit her lip, trying to avoid his penetrating gaze but without much success. He seemed far too interested in the way she tugged at her lower lip with her teeth.

  ‘I prime a blank canvas with white oil paint to convey a light feeling through the layers of paint that will be put on afterwards. It is done gently, like someone stroking the skin on your hands, barely touching, but making an immediate impact.’

  Greg massaged the back of one of her hands in explanation. All her nerve endings tingled at his touch. Her tongue glided nervously over her lips.

  ‘Once it’s dry, the next stage is to draw the outlines of the subject on the canvas in charcoal or dark paint,’ he whispered huskily.

  His fingers traced the outline of Amberley’s face, trailing slowly down her bare flesh at the neckline of her t-shirt. She breathed in deeply, his every touch burning her body just a little bit more.

  ‘The whole placement of the subject on the canvas is important. If the setting isn’t right it won’t work. When you want to be intimate with a lover, the scene has to be perfect.’

  He wanted her so badly. He knew he should stop and go home but he could not help himself. The overriding need to seduce her was all he could think about.

  ‘Next the colours are mixed for masses, which are the colouring of the hair and clothes,’ he murmured as he ran his fingers through her hair, then trailed slowly up and down the sleeves of her t-shirt.

  Amberley realised if he didn’t stop soon, she would kiss him. He was leaving her with no other choice, she felt like a tightly wound cog ready to unravel. Her body wanted him to take her, to make love to her.

  Greg moved closer to her. ‘The general flesh colour is next, you cannot move to the following stage until this part is perfected.’

  All the while he spoke, his fingers stroked her face, throat and neck teasingly. She was burning; she almost begged him to take her there and then.

  ‘The eyes and mouth are painted later so edges are still kept soft,’ he said, kissing her eyelids and the outline of her lips while speaking. His breath inflamed her skin where it touched.

  ‘After checking the colours, the final strokes are added to make the whole scene perfect.’

  Greg slowly placed his hands at each side of her face, staring deep into her eyes. She felt his fingertips lightly cover her face in delicate caresses, she closed her eyes, her lips parted, loving the way his fingers felt on her skin wanting him to touch her intimately. A long, breathy sigh escaped from her.

  ‘Now you can concentrate completely on the features.’

  Amberley felt his lips kiss the outline her face, moving down to the hollow of her throat. Her eyes opened searching his face; she found need staring back at her. He had captured her completely. She felt defenceless against him. The craving for him consumed her utterly and completely.

  ‘Oh God, Greg, I can’t stand much more of this. I want you to kiss me,’ she pleaded.

  ‘I know and I want you too, more than you know. But I haven’t finished with you… yet.’

  He kissed her forehead; a whimper of frustration came from her lips.

  ‘The main things people notice in a portrait are the whites of the eyes and,’ he said, his mouth hovering over Amberley’s, ‘the wetness of the lips.’

  His lips fell gently onto hers and caressed them tenderly. Greg lowered her slowly down onto the sofa while he intensified the pressure of the kiss. His growing arousal pressed against her thigh. Heat seared her inside and out.

  His mouth hovered over her ear. ‘This work would take a long time. The artist would give it his full concentration and all because he took his time, the whole result would be remarkable.’

  ‘Enough talk, I want you,’ her words came out in a whimper – a demand to love her.

  Amberley pulled his head back towards her lips. She kissed him with a passion and hunger that Greg had never experienced before. He felt her hands grab frantically at his T-shirt, pulling it from his jeans. Her hands felt like flames licking teasingly at his skin, every touch making him desperate to have all of her. His hands responded to her touch, he put his hands inside her T-shirt, his fingers skimmed across her stomach. The pleasure from his touch was driving her insane. He rubbed his body against hers, she felt as if she was going to explode.

  Without warning, there came a loud crash, making them jump from the sofa, all thoughts of passion gone.

  ‘What the hell was that?’ said Greg, his voice sounding breathless.

  He moved towards the front window. Looking on the floor, he spotted a brick; with a peach carnation tied to it, the surrounding area was covered in broken glass.

  Amberley heard a car pull away and ran to the front door, just in time to see a black, flashy, sports car fleeing from the scene. She began to shake, the dizziness and pains in her chest returned. Greg moved to her side and put an arm around her, she began to cry.

  ‘I know who it was, he’s found me. I’m never going to get away from him – never.’ She looked up at Greg and he saw real fear in her eyes. ‘He’s seen me with you now and that puts you in danger. I have to leave and go back to London. Immediately!’

  Greg took her face in his hands. ‘Amberley, listen to me. You cannot go back to London, you’re much safer here and you can’t keep running from him.’

  She pulled away from him. ‘I think it’s for the best if I go.’

  Greg went to her and turned her to face him. ‘And what if that’s what he’s expecting you to do? What if he’s waiting to force you off the road, have you thought of that? You’ll be playing right into his hands.’

  She looked into Greg’s eyes and felt his strong, masculine presence. He was calm and reassuring.

  ‘I guess you’re right,’ she said, rubbing her arm.

  Just then, Amberley’s mobile phone went off. Without thinking, she answered it.

  ‘I know where you are now, bitch, and I know you’re sleeping with another man when your body belongs to me!’ If I cannot have you then no one can! You will both pay for this. You will be begging me to end your life by the time I’ve finished with you.’ He hung up.

  She began to hyperventilate, her heart thudded in her chest. The lead feeling returned to her left arm, as did the pins and needles. She rested her hands heavily on the table in an attempt to gain her composure. Amberley watched Greg.

  ‘We need to call the police now, it was Steve. If he isn’t caught, someone is going to end up getting hurt… or worse.’

  Greg nodded. ‘I’ll do it.’ He reached for the phone and dialled nine, nine, nine.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Amberley watched in stunned silence while Greg spoke to the police, her mind and body numb with shock. The fact that Steve had managed to track her down made her feel sick, helpless.

  ‘I’d better call Simon too,’ he said afterwards.

  She nodded slowly, grateful for Greg taking control. While he recounted the events to Simon, Greg held her hand, stroking her wrist comfortingly.

  ‘Everything is all right; the police will be here soon. She’ll be fine, I’ll stay with her¸’ he said, looking towards Amberley and smiling. ‘Okay but don’t worry, I’ll take good care of her. I look forward to seeing you as well.’

  He replaced the receiver and moved to the sofa with her. ‘Simon and Sarah are going to come down for a couple of days.’

  ‘But it’s such a long way to come,’ she protested.

  ‘I know, Amberley, but they love you and
that’s why they’re coming.’

  She sighed, got up and stood near to where the glass lay strewn across the floor. The peach carnation tied to the brick made her convulse. She used to love them so much, now she hated the very sight of them. Greg came to stand with her; he kneaded her shoulders and kissed her head. It felt so good, so comforting, that she wanted it to last forever. She heard the sound of a car pulling up outside and her body went rigid, afraid it was Steve returning.

  Greg looked out of the window. ‘The police are here. I’ll let them in.’

  She relaxed instantly. ‘Okay,’ she whispered. Standing behind the sofa, she gripped the back of it for support.

  The officers came inside and surveyed the damage.‘We’ll call Scenes of Crime Officers to check for any prints or DNA. I’m afraid you won’t be able to touch any of this until then.’

  ‘I understand, officer.’

  ‘Do you feel up to making statements now?’

  Greg looked toward her and raised his eyebrows questioningly.

  ‘I’d sooner do it now while the event is still fresh in my mind. What about you, Greg?’

  ‘Definitely.’

  After taking their accounts, the officers left. The air felt heavy and oppressive to Amberley. It was as though her sanctuary had been defiled. She could feel the hot, angry tears stinging her eyes. Not wanting Greg to see, she went into the kitchen. Taking mugs from the cupboard, she went to put them on the worktop. Her hands trembled violently and one mug fell to the floor, smashing into tiny pieces.

  ‘Dammit,’ she muttered and knelt down to clear up the mess. Greg was at her side immediately.

  ‘Here, let me do that,’ he said while he helped her to her feet. Spotting the tears glistening on her cheeks, he wiped them away with the pads of his thumbs. She tried to turn away from him.

  ‘Amberley, look at me,’ he ordered her, slowly turning her back to face him.

  ‘You’re in shock. I’ll speak to Mum; I think you should stay with us tonight.’

  She went to object but he placed a finger to her lips.

  ‘If you won’t do it for yourself, then do it for me. It will make me feel much better knowing you’re safe.’