Waiting for Mr. Wonderful!

by Stephanie Howard

  Georgia held onto him now as he fed her a piece of croissant before popping the rest of it into his own mouth. How could she ever have run out on him? She must have been crazy. He was the most gorgeous, most adorable man in the entire universe.

  Last night, as he’d slipped into bed beside her, she’d turned to him sleepily, sighing with pleasure, reaching to kiss him, melting into his arms. His hard, naked body had felt cool against her own. Shivering with excitement, she’d pressed against him. And there’d been no need for words, for questions or explanations as to why she’d gone running off or why she’d come back. With their lips and their hands they’d said all that needed to be said.

  They’d made love, of course, but it had been dif ferent from before. No less passionate or tender or exciting than the other times, but with an edge of emotion that hadn’t been there previously. As though they’d lost one another and now had found each other again and the losing and the finding had added a special poignancy.

  When she’d finally fallen asleep, wrapped tightly in his arms, Georgia had been filled with a sense of deep contentment, the like of which she’d never known before. And the feeling had still been with her when she’d awakened this morning.

  It reminded her a bit of the way she always felt when she returned home each evening to her little flat in Bath. A feeling of peace. Of belonging. Of safety. Only now, she sensed, it was her soul that had found its home.

  ‘You realise I have to leave you?’

  Georgia knew what he was actually saying—nothing even the least bit sinister—but she felt her heart falter inside her all the same. An icy coldness brushed her skin. If I lost him now, she thought, how would I survive?

  She looked back at him and chased that horror from her head. ‘Yes.’ she said. ‘Though not for too long, I hope.’

  He’d already told her he had to go out. There was another urgent meeting he had to attend this morning. But he’d promised he’d try to be back before lunch— though, alas, he was going to be tied up again this evening.

  Jean-Claude kissed her. ‘I hope not, too.’ Holding her close, he stroked her hair. ‘I’m sorry this had to happen. It’s been a real mess this weekend. This crisis came completely out of the blue.’ He drew back and frowned at her, blue eyes concerned and apologetic. ‘But it’s not usually like this. Don’t get the wrong idea. You won’t normally have to put up with this sort of neglect.’

  ‘Normally’. That sounded as though he wanted their relationship to continue. The joy and relief that swept through her were overpowering. This was the first real hint he’d given about his intentions.

  Slipping her arms round his neck, she pressed herself against him and kissed him. I love you! I love you! She felt like shouting the words out loud. It was the most wonderful, most scary feeling in the world.

  ‘I don’t mind. Really I don’t,’ she told him.

  After he left, Georgia pottered happily around the flat. He’d told her not to bother tidying up, for the cleaning lady was due to come as usual tomorrow. But Georgia ignored his instructions and went ahead and did it anyway, taking immense pleasure in such simple domestic chores as emptying the rubbish, making the bed and plumping up the cushions on the sofas in the sitting room. It was his rubbish and his bed, his cushions and his sofas, and to do these little things for him gave her enormous satisfaction. It made her feel even closer to him. A part of his home. A part of his life.

  Jean-Claude showed up at about one and took her off for lunch at a busy little bistro not far from the flat. And it was as the waiter brought their main course that Georgia told him, ‘I’ve decided to go back to Bath this evening.’ Her stomach sank as she said it. The last thing she wanted was to leave. But she had to get back. Tomorrow was Monday, the start of another busy working week.

  ‘I phoned the airport this morning,’ she added. She’d fitted that in between her housework! ‘And I managed to reserve a seat on the six o’clock flight’

  Jean-Claude sighed a small sigh and reached across for her hand. ‘I’m going to hate to see you go. It’s been a very special weekend, even though I haven’t seen nearly as much of you as I’d have liked.’ Then suddenly he smiled. ‘But there’ll be other weekends. Paris and Bath aren’t so terribly far apart.’

  Georgia nodded as he laced his fingers with hers. It was true that Bath wasn’t at the other end of the world, though at this precise moment it rather felt as though it was. Being so far away was going to be utter hell.

  She chased these feelings from her. They would only spoil the present and she and Jean-Claude still had a few more hours before her flight And she’d be seeing him again. That was what mattered. There’d be other weekends. That was what he’d said. The immediate future might look a little grey, but the longerterm picture was decidedly rosy.

  After lunch, they went for a walk along the Seine, pausing to watch the boats or to exchange a kiss and a hug, talking endlessly as usual, laughing and holding hands. Then they drove back to the flat to pick up Georgia’s holdall, for Jean-Claude had insisted that he drive her to the airport.

  On the way there, he told her, ‘I ought to have definite news of your missing clothes soon. The minute I hear, I’ll be in touch to let you know. But, in the meantime, don’t worry. It’s just a question of time now.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Georgia smiled at him. She’d almost forgotten about the missing clothes. And it was strange to think that what had at first seemed such a tragedy was in fact what had brought the two of them together. Fate was indeed a very funny thing. You never could tell how things would turn out.

  They arrived at the airport all too quickly.

  ‘I’m going to miss you,’ Jean-Claude told her as he accompanied her to the Departures door. ‘But we’ll fix something up soon.’ He paused and took her in his arms. ‘I’ll phone you.’ He kissed her and hugged her for a moment. Then he smiled and shook his head. ‘Lord, I hate goodbyes. But I just want to thank you for an unforgettable weekend.’

  ‘Likewise.’ Georgia smiled shakily. Her heart was lodged in her throat. This was even more painful than she’d dreaded it would be. ‘And, since I hate goodbyes too, I think you ought to just go now.’ She kissed him and slipped her holdall from his fingers. ‘Thank you for everything. I hope to see you very soon.’

  Then she turned, hiding the tears that had sprung to her eyes, pulling away quickly as his hand lingered on her arm, and started to walk quickly through the automatic doors.

  She couldn’t just walk away, though. She had to glance back at him. And, as she saw that he was still standing there watching her, her heart faltered.

  He blew her a kiss.

  And then the doors closed.

  The meeting had turned out well, but it had gone on far too long. Jean-Claude stepped out into the street and paused for a moment, gratefully breathing in the crisp, cool night air. His client’s office, where he’d been ensconced for the past three and a half hours, had been so stuffy and overheated it had almost given him a headache.

  He glanced at his watch. What he really felt like doing was leaving the car, which he’d left parked down a nearby side street, and heading back on foot to the Champs Elysées apartment. He could always get someone to pick up the car for him tomorrow morning and a good, brisk walk was just what he needed.

  But he’d get back home too late to phone Georgia if he did that and he was anxious to check that she’d got back to Bath safely. He smiled at the thought of her. He was also anxious just to hear her voice again. So, walking was out. He’d take the car, after all.

  Still thinking of her, he turned and headed to where the Porsche was parked. Though he missed her, it was better that she’d returned to Bath for the moment. With Duval on the warpath—for he’d made some serious threats yesterday—he felt much happier with her safely back in England. Though it wouldn’t be long now before he finally sorted that villain out.

  The street where the car was parked was dark and deserted. He turned the corner and smiled to himself, a
picture of Georgia in his mind. The last thing she’d said was that she hoped to see him very soon. Well, he hoped the same. And maybe, with a bit of juggling, he might manage to fit in a trip to Bath next weekend. He’d said nothing at the airport, for he hadn’t wanted to build her hopes up, but now that this crisis he was currently involved in finally looked like being sorted out fairly soon he’d definitely say something to her tonight when he phoned.

  That made him feel good. He smiled with anticipation as he came alongside the car and reached into his pocket for his keys, suddenly more anxious than ever to get home and phone her. At this time of night, with very little traffic about, he ought to make it in under fifteen minutes.

  He flicked the remote control to unlock the car door, slid quickly behind the wheel and twisted the key in the ignition.

  Instantly, he knew.

  There was a fraction of a second’s pause. Then a blinding white light. Then darkness and nothing.

  CHAPTER NINE

  ‘GUESS what? They’ve found them! They’ve found the missing clothes!’ As she laid down the phone, Kay was grinning from ear to ear. ‘That was somebody from the shipping company’s office in Boulogne. Our consignment’s all there, in perfect condition, and it’s going to be delivered tomorrow.’

  ‘Fantastic! Didn’t I tell you so?’ Georgia was grinning too. ‘Didn’t I tell you Jean-Claude promised it would all be sorted out soon?’

  It was the following day and Georgia had come rushing out of the storeroom the instant the phone in the shop had started ringing. She’d been hoping it might be Jean-Claude, for she hadn’t heard from him yet. She’d fondly imagined he’d call her last night, just to make certain she’d got home OK.

  Though why on earth would he do that? she’d demanded of herself last night, impatiently crushing the foolish disappointment she’d felt when she’d finally given up hope and turned out the bedside light. She was a grown woman, perfectly capable of travelling from Paris to Bath on her own, a fact of which he was well aware.

  He was also, she told herself now, an extremely busy man, which was why, though it was past lunchtime, she still hadn’t heard a peep. There was no point in being silly about it He’d phone when he had time.

  And this was marvellous news anyway, though scarcely a surprise. As she told Kay, ‘I never doubted for a moment that Jean-Claude would be as good as his word.’ And she was quite unable to keen the pride from her voice or the happy, adoring sparkle from her eyes.

  Without going into private details, and without revealing a word of Jean-Claude’s secret, Georgia had told Kay all about her magical weekend. She could scarcely have done otherwise. It was written all over her face.

  ‘My,’ Kay had observed as soon as she’d looked at her, ‘you certainly look as though you’ve had a good time!’

  ‘Blissful!’ Georgia had responded, rolling her eyes rapturously towards heaven. Then she’d sighed and confessed, ‘Kay, I’m in love!’

  ‘Brilliant!’ Kay’s reaction had been predictable and instant. ‘But, for heaven’s sake, don’t stop there. I want to hear all about it!’

  Fortunately, there’d been only a couple of customers that morning—Monday mornings were always a bit slow—so Georgia had been able to devote plenty of time to her story. A blissful experience. Almost like reliving the whole weekend. And talking about Jean-Claude was more intoxicating than wine.

  ‘He’s the most glorious man I’ve ever known. I adore everything about him. And I just know he’s the Mr Wonderful I’ve been waiting for.’

  ‘I’m so happy for you, Georgia.’ Kay had given her a warm hug. ‘This fairy story couldn’t have happened to a nicer person.’

  But if this was a fairy story, what had happened to the prince? That evening, as the two women locked up the shop, Jean-Claude still hadn’t been in touch.

  ‘Don’t worry, he’ll be waiting to phone you at home.’ Kay smiled kindly into her friend’s anxious face. ‘He just wants to speak to you when you’re on your own, in private.’

  That was what Georgia was hoping too. But though she waited by the phone all evening the only person who called was Aunt Beatrice. She went to bed, trying not to care, but feeling numb with disappointment. Had she got it all wrong? Had she imagined everything, after all?

  There was still no phone call the following day.

  ‘He’s probably just busy,’ Kay kept insisting, as together they unpacked the boxes of clothes that had arrived. ‘You’ll see, he’ll ring soon, full of apologies.’

  Georgia was grateful for her friend’s kindness, but how could he be that busy? Nobody was so busy that in the space of forty-eight hours they couldn’t find a couple of minutes to make a phone call. No, there had to be some other reason for his silence.

  Such as that he’d never actually intended calling her in the first place. That their weekend had meant nothing to him. Nothing at all. All she’d ever been to him was another notch on his belt.

  It crushed her to think these things, but how could she not think them? Right at the beginning she’d suspected what type of man he was, and now it seemed she’d been absolutely right. She ought to have stuck with her first impression.

  But she’d allowed herself to be seduced and taken in by his charm. She’d even talked herself into believing that she’d found something special. Humiliation poured through her. What a poor fool she’d been.

  It was just before six when, wearing her coat and ready to leave, Kay stuck her head round the door of the storeroom, where Georgia was still busy unpacking boxes of clothes.

  ‘Don’t work too late, Georgia. Go home and relax. Or come round and spend the evening with Eddie and me. It’s Eddie’s turn to cook, so dinner’ll be edible for once.’

  Georgia glanced up from the box of cotton blouses she was sorting out, grateful and deeply touched by her friend’s gesture of kindness. But, all the same, she declined ‘Thanks, Kay. Maybe some other time. I’ll just finish off here and then I’ll go home.’

  Keeping busy was the best therapy and she didn’t feel like an evening in company. While she was work ing, she could forget for a while the dead weight in her heart, but being with other people in a social situation would only serve to make her misery more acute. Perhaps it sounded a bit ungrateful, but she’d really rather be on her own.

  ‘OK. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.’ Kay didn’t in sist. She was a good friend and she probably understood how she was feeling. ‘But don’t work too late. Go home and watch some TV. That game show you like is on tonight, I think.’

  Georgia smiled. ‘Don’t worry. I won’t be much longer. I’ll just finish this box and then I’ll be right behind you.’

  She didn’t mean a word of it, of course. Once she’d unpacked the box she was working on, hung up all its contents and clipped on the price tickets, she’d simply go on to the next box in the pile. And the next one after that Till she was too tired to do any more. Then she’d drive home and collapse, exhausted, into bed. At least then, with any luck, she might actually go to sleep.

  Sleep had been elusive the last couple of nights. She’d just lain there, brain circling in hopeless numb despair, listening to the ticking of the clock by her bedside. Only once the sky beyond the curtains had grown light had she fallen at last into a brief, troubled sleep.

  It was madness. She knew that. If it was true that he’d just been playing with her, then he simply wasn’t worth all the agony she was suffering. But though her brain had no trouble accepting that, her heart was quite another matter!

  Nearly four hours later, when she finally emerged from the shop, the rain was coming down in torrents. How utterly appropriate. She snapped open her blue umbrella. The heavens were clearly in tune with her mood.

  Head down, she started to hurry towards the car park where she always left her red Polo. I’m just going to forget him, she decided. It’s the only thing to do. If I go on like this, I’ll drive myself crazy. I made a mistake and that’s all there is to it. It’s no great tragedy. No re
al harm’s been done. One day, I’ll find someone better and my heart will mend in time.

  No, it won’t. And you won’t forget him. And you’ll never find anyone better. It was as though a voice in her head was shouting her down. A man like Jean-Claude comes along only once in a lifetime.

  It was at that moment that a low black car swept past her. As it caught the corner of her eye, Georgia swung round, her heart almost flying out of her chest. Just for an instant, she’d been sure it was Jean-Claude’s Porsche.

  Of course, she was mistaken. But, as she watched it disappear, a light seemed to have miraculously switched on in her brain. All at once, she understood something that had eluded her until that moment.

  She turned away and continued towards the car park. Almost running now. For she knew what she had to do.

  ‘Nicole? Is that you? It’s Georgia, calling from England.’

  It had taken Georgia fifteen tries to finally get an answer at his flat—she’d tried the Gif sur Yvette number almost as many times—and she’d been just about on the point of giving up for the night. It was after eleven, after all. After midnight in France. She’d thought that perhaps she ought to wait till tomorrow morning and try again then.

  But, obstinately, she’d decided to give it one last go and—miracles!—someone had at last picked up the phone.

  And it was Nicole. ‘Georgia! I’ve been trying to track down your number. Oh, Georgia...it’s Papa. Something terrible’s happened.’

  Five minutes later, Georgia was hanging up. Immediately, she lifted the receiver again and punched in Kay’s number. She felt numb, her body cold, her heart touched with ice.

  Kay answered almost at once. Georgia took a deep breath and told her, ‘Kay, you’re going to have to manage on your own again tomorrow. There’s been an accident and I’m catching the first plane tomorrow morning to Paris.’