Hell. How did you know?
How? He rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand. What if he got it wrong?
What if she walked away like they’d agreed? It wasn’t as if he could put this feeling into words for her. She had a plan. They had a deal. Until the first of December and no more. She didn’t want the money or the helicopters or the celebrity. She didn’t want marriage or kids, she’d been at pains to underline that.
She was already scared. And hell, so was he, now.
I love you.
The glow didn’t dim. It flickered and shone and filled his chest.
And was the last thing he felt as the pull of sleep became too much to fight.
* * *
“He’s going to be fine. He just needs to rest and build up his strength.”
“Oh, that’s such good news.” Victoria exhaled the breath she’d been holding ever since the cardiologist had walked into the room for the morning ward round. It had been a very disrupted night. Not just because of the unfamiliar noises and constant interruptions from the nurses doing their checks, but also because of the closeness she’d shared with Oliver. Every time she prepared herself to let go, the connection between them tightened.
Stella clapped her hands. “Did you hear the man, Eric? No more work talk. You have to focus on getting better.”
Oliver’s dad was sitting in bed propped up by pillows. He needed a shave, his skin was sallow and he had huge bruises under his eyes, but he huffed weakly. “Work talk makes me feel better.”
“Well, you’re too old to work so we’re going to start learning how to slow down a bit. I want more time with you, Eric, not less. We need to live to see Oliver’s children. I’m going to pop out and buy some Sudoku books and I’m investigating tai chi classes for when we go home.” She picked up a glossy brochure and waved it at him. “I found this in the relatives’ room. It sounds like something we can do together. Victoria and Oliver are doing the fashion show and it’s making them both happy, I can see it. It’s time we did something that wasn’t just work.”
Well, recognizing they needed to do more relaxing together was a good thing. But again, the mention of Oliver’s children. Victoria took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. This wasn’t about her, she reminded herself. It was about this family. They seemed to be taking on board the things she’d suggested.
Eric grimaced. “Ollie, lad. Save me?”
“What did you teach me, Dad? Only enter into arguments you’re going to win?”
“But tai chi? With a load of pensioners?” Eric grumbled, clearly feeling a little better. “I’m going to go mad.”
“Well, you’re going to go mad with...” Stella read from the brochure. “Lower blood pressure, improved balance and enhanced sleep.”
“A good handle on my bank balance helps me sleep very well indeed.” The old man tutted. The thought of having to relax and retire made him seem much more determined to get better.
“It’s time to let it go, Eric,” his wife said. “Maybe you could do some of that tinkering in the shed like you used to do before we got married.”
“Tinkering?” The old man frowned. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know. It’s a long time ago.” Stella smiled. “Remember when you used to make things?”
“Dad used to make things?” Ollie jumped in, animated. “What kind of things?”
“He made the cot you slept in when you were born and then...” Stella looked at her hands. “We got too busy with the company.”
“It happens.” Ollie shrugged but he looked suddenly smitten with his dad. And also, kind of sad that he’d never met this other father who’d been happy making things. A cot? Victoria sighed... Where had they lost their way? When had they stopped paying attention to each other?
But in the end it didn’t matter where they’d gone wrong, because they were finding their way back to each other now.
“There’s a group of men in the village who run something called a Man Shed. They get together and do things for the local community...build play parks for the childcare center.” Stella clutched her husband’s hand. “You’d enjoy that. Working with your hands again. Doing something nice for the children, like Ollie and Victoria are doing for her design students.”
“Man Shed?” Eric looked as if he was about to tut again, but he sat and thought and as he did his eyes glittered. “Victoria, you have a lot to answer for.”
Oh, wow. Victoria couldn’t hide her joy at seeing them talking like this, properly learning about each other after all this time. “Sorry, not sorry, Mr. Russell.”
Eric looked at his wife. “I’ll think about it.”
She patted his hand but didn’t push. “In the meantime, you can build your strength up with tai chi.”
Eric shook his head. “Does it say anywhere that I have to be teetotal?”
“No. Nothing here.”
“Good. Ask the lovely nurse to bring me a gin.”
Ollie laughed. “It’s breakfast time, Dad.”
“It’s five o’clock somewhere in the world.”
“We’ll leave you to argue that one out with the medics. See you later.” Oliver pressed a kiss to his father’s head and the old man looked up at him in surprise. Ollie then wrapped his mother in a hug. “Be good. Don’t argue. I’ll be back later. I love you both.”
Victoria watched with a warm fuzzy feeling in her heart. He was trying. They were all trying.
They stepped outside, blinking into a snowy wonderland and Victoria took a deep breath. Being wrapped in Ollie all night had been wonderful, but she needed to face the day and her never-ending job list, and the confusion about where they stood now.
Having spent the night bundled up against him her body felt alive, relishing his every touch, his thigh against hers, the press of his body. The way he’d stroked her hair, her hand, her cheek. The soft kisses that were about giving and affection. The line they’d straddled but managed to keep a grip on.
Now, out here in the fresh air, she felt as if they were moving towards something more, something inevitable that would change her forever. They walked through the frosted streets that were starting to fill up with work and school traffic. Her skin tingled. Her breathing came too fast.
Later, he’d said. And she’d agreed. Drunk on exhaustion and lust she’d agreed because she couldn’t imagine not making love with him. But even now in the bright winter morning nothing had changed. She wanted this man. She gripped his hand. Anticipation wound through her until she felt like a coiled spring.
When they reached her front door he said, “My father made my cot. I can’t believe it.”
“I know. It’s surprising, but lovely to know they cared so much. I’m so glad things are getting back on track for you all.”
He pressed his forehead to hers. “I can’t thank you enough, V. It’s all because of you.”
“That’s what friends are for, right?” Blinking hard, she looked away. All his family had needed was a gentle push.
“Friends. Sure. Definitely friends.” He smiled and tenderly smoothed down her hair. Something had changed between them. A seismic shift that had taken them from strangers to a deep every-level connection.
Later... They were edging closer to their middle of the night promise.
Later was now. Her insides fluttered. He looked dark and dangerous and delicious, his black coat and hair a sharp contrast to the silvery white-coated roofs and tree branches. She put her palm to his unshaven jaw. “You must have so much to do. Your blood pressure must be off the scale. Ever thought about tai chi?”
He laughed and caught her gaze. “My balance is age appropriate. And I’m not interested in sleeping when I go to bed, especially if you’re anywhere nearby.”
His words stoked her need and she almost moaned as she stared up at him, lost in eyes so dark and m
isted with sex they bewitched her.
As if he felt the same coiled need as she did, he pulled her to him, his hand curving round the back of her neck. Somehow, they moved seamlessly from tenderness to desire but always there was so much emotion when it came to him.
His mouth was at her throat. “Victoria Scott, you drive me crazy. I spent the whole night trying not to imagine you naked with me under that duvet.”
Oh, God. Her heart hammered and her body prickled with a longing that stripped her breath. There were so many reasons why they shouldn’t take the next step, but it felt inevitable, fated. She wanted him. It was as simple and complicated as that.
She pushed herself against him, feeling the tight press of his body, wanting to feel his heat, his hardness. Wanting him inside her. “I thought I was going to die if you didn’t kiss me again.”
“God, you are amazing. I can’t get enough of you,” he groaned as his fingers traced along her throat. His mouth moved up her neck to that soft place below her ear that had her curling with desire. She turned her head, desperate to kiss him but he moved away, just a fraction. And gave her a long, slow smile. Was he trying to drive her completely mad?
Unable to wait any longer she stood on tiptoes to meet his hungry gaze. “Kiss me.”
“God. Victoria.” His mouth slid over hers and, as her balance was very definitely off-kilter when he was around, she fell deep into his kiss, still mesmerized at how one touch from Oliver could make her feel so much better. So alive, so desperate for more.
He pressed her hard against the door, his tongue sliding into her mouth, sending jolts of excitement through her. His fingers slid under her sweater and she writhed at the coolness, arching her back so he could fit his palm over her breast.
He trailed a kiss along her throat and whispered, “I know a much better way to relax than tai chi. You want me to show you?”
Her body buzzed and burned. Yes. Yes, she did. She wanted him in her bed. The longer she spent with him, the more she wanted to be with him. Everything, every minute they’d spent together, all the getting to know each other, all the kisses, all the tender talks in the dark of night had led to this moment. She couldn’t fight it. Didn’t want to.
“Yes. Yes, please,” she managed through another hot and hungry kiss. She dragged her mouth from his and jammed her key into the lock, his lips on the back of her neck making her curl into him. She pressed her body back against his and felt the hard length of him. He wanted her.
She wanted him. There was no doubt. In fact, it was the only thing she was clear about. She couldn’t think of anything she needed or wanted to do more than to take him to her bed.
She shoved the door open, her nerves a jumble, her hand trembling as she pulled him over the threshold. He turned her and pressed her up against the door. She grasped his shirt in her hand, started to undo a button. Two.
“Oliver.” It came out like a prayer. Maybe it was.
“You are so beautiful, my Victoria.” He stroked her cheek, then her throat and traced a fingertip down to the V of her breasts. Then his mouth went to where his finger had been and she gasped, wanting more and more and more.
Her fingers threaded through his hair and all rational thought fled her brain as his hand pushed up under her sweater and unclipped her bra.
Then reality crystallized and she pushed his hand away. “Ollie—”
“What’s the matter?” He was breathing hard and fast. “Are you OK? Is this OK?”
“I... I have scars. I’m not as beautiful as you think I am.” But, God, she wanted to believe she could be. She put her hand to her stomach wishing this could be different. Wishing she could be perfect for him. “Not here.”
“I am so sorry you were hurt, V. And I wish, I really wish, I could have been there for you. I wish it hadn’t happened at all.” He put his hand over her belly, over the gnarled skin. “But there is nothing you could do or say that would make me believe you are anything but beautiful, inside and out.”
“But—”
He smothered her words with his kiss, one hand stroking her scars, the other cupping her face. He kissed and kissed and kissed her until she didn’t know anything except that he really did believe she was beautiful.
“You are the most amazing woman I have ever met,” he whispered. “I’ve wanted to make love to you since the moment I set eyes on you.” His hand went to her heart. “This is something, right? What we have? This is something.”
“It is.” She fought back tears. It was something precious and special. And time limited.
She knew she should have said a million things then, and one of them should have been about the consequences of those scars. But it would never be the right time to tell him and feel the hurt of rejection all over again.
God knew, she wished they had more hours, more days, more weeks together, but he wanted her and she wanted him and this could be their only chance to grab something extraordinary.
So, when he asked, “Do you want to go upstairs?”
The only possible reply was, “How quickly can we get up there?”
* * *
Beautiful.
Her smile was one of satiated satisfaction, even while she slept. Her long, dark hair was fanned over her white pillow. Her soft body gilded in sunlight. She looked like a goddess. A queen.
His eyes lingered over the silvered scars on her belly that told the story of her nightmare and his heart contracted, shifting and making space for this amazing woman. She was a warrior. He smiled. His Victoria.
He’d never wanted to stay with a woman for long after sex but right now he couldn’t think of a better way to spend his day than here in her bed, under her floral duvet.
What did all this mean?
He hadn’t a damned clue. But it was something profound.
Too bad he’d received about a hundred messages from his PA and Andrew that needed answers like, two hours ago, and had to concentrate on that instead of this. Not her. Not us.
Wow. That thought blew his chest wide open.
He pressed a kiss to her head and tiptoed out of her bedroom, not wanting to wake her despite it being late morning. He needed time to reconcile what was going on in his life with this feeling in his heart. Needed time and space to do some clear thinking, because whenever he was with her his thoughts were only for her, when they should have been on his family, on his business, on everything except a fake fiancée who he’d grown very fond of.
Did he love her?
He tugged on his trousers, fastened his shirt, rattled at why he needed to get so damned deep all of a sudden. Those kind of questions hadn’t ever bothered him before.
He jogged down the stairs and pulled open the front door. Once outside he saw that two stout and beautifully dressed Christmas trees were standing sentry at the main entrance of the new store. Delivery vans were parked up on the yellow lines and stacks of cardboard boxes lined the pavement. The rest of the stock was arriving. The deal was nearly done.
They only had a few days left.
And unless he could convince her to extend their deal, the clock was ticking.
16
THE NEXT WEEK was a blur of sleepless nights and hard work. Victoria felt as if she was fueled by caffeine and nerves; half worrying about the fashion show, half worrying about Eric’s recovery.
And always thinking about Oliver. What they’d shared that morning had been so precious and tender that it had fueled her over the next few days. He’d kissed her scars and told her repeatedly that she was beautiful. She didn’t know what it meant it for them but every time her thoughts strayed to him her heart hurt a little bit more.
Her fingers were sore from pinpricks from the last-minute alterations to the garments for the show and her head was pounding. Every part of her ached from bending down, reaching round, stretching across the mannequins, carrying the clothes over to the
store, helping the girls.
They’d both known the next few days would be hectic. She’d thought—hoped—they may have bumped into each other at the store, but his PA had taken over the arrangements for the catwalk as he was too busy with everything else.
But every morning she texted him, How’s Eric?
Every morning she received the same reply. He said not to fuss. Mum sends her love. So do I. O xx.
And every morning her heart shaped itself more and more to the family who were struggling to cope and trying not to show it.
One day to go and she finally got the news she wanted:
Dad’s put on three kilograms. He’s yelled at two nurses and bawled the cardiologist out. Safe to say he’s much better and is allowed to come to the opening tomorrow. I would say he’s being let out for good behavior, but sadly, no. I think they’ll be glad to wave him off.
She sent back: I’m so pleased for him. And for you too. I can’t wait. I’m so excited.
Oliver: Did you get the email with the itinerary?
Victoria: I did. It’s perfect. Thank you. So much.
He’d given her such a gift. A chance to prove herself, a chance to chase her dreams. No, to grasp them.
Oliver: My pleasure. Honestly. Are you ready?
Victoria: Born ready!
Oliver: V, I miss you.
Her heart had clenched tight at that. She imagined him cupping her face. Kissing her. Making love to her. With her. I miss you too.
She did. She missed him already and it wasn’t over yet. She didn’t want to think past the fashion show, for purely selfish reasons.
And now they were here. On the first floor of the Russell & Co. Chelsea store. A long, raised runway extended before her, one end covered with dark-blue velvet curtains where the models would appear from. Rows of white seats had been placed either side of the catwalk. Portable floodlights were pointed towards the curtains.
Jasmine was fastening thick navy-blue bows to the chair backs and Nisha was putting pamphlets on each of the seats with shaking hands.
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