The Charmer

by Mandasue Heller

  ‘Might be.’ Joel mirrored her position. ‘So where’s home?’

  ‘Devon.’ Another drink. ‘I’ve a bit of business to take care of in the morning, then I’m gone.’

  ‘Talk about bad timing. I was hoping I could persuade you to come out to dinner tomorrow.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘So, this important business . . . No chance of rescheduling?’

  ‘None. Believe me, if I had a choice I wouldn’t even be here.’

  ‘And we’d never have met,’ Joel said, aware that their voices were getting ever more sultry as their faces got closer.

  ‘I suppose not,’ Maria conceded, thinking it might have been better for her if they hadn’t. How was she ever going to get to sleep tonight with the memory of those sexy eyes boring into her?

  Reminded of sleep, she sat up a little straighter. ‘Actually, I, er, really should be thinking about going. I’ve got an early start tomorrow.’

  Joel narrowed his eyes as blue-grey cigarette smoke danced on the air between them. He’d been pissed off about coming here on a wild-goose chase, but meeting this babe had more than made up for it, and he didn’t want to let the night end here – not now he was feeling so damn horny. She really was a very beautiful girl.

  Reaching for her hand, sending a thrill skittering down her spine, he said, ‘You’re not really going to go and leave me by myself, are you? We’ll probably never see each other again, so why not spend a bit of time together? We could find a decent club – have a dance, bit of dinner.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Maria said uncertainly, slipping her hand free yet again and reaching for her glass.

  She was tipsy, but not so much that she could throw caution to the wind and leave the safety of the hotel with this man – no matter how gorgeous he was. She was enjoying his company, but that didn’t mean she wanted to take it any further – and that was exactly what he would expect if she agreed to go out with him at this time of night, she was sure.

  Watching as the doubts flitted across her eyes, Joel smoothly changed tack.

  ‘Or . . . we could stay here, have a few more drinks and talk.’ Gazing at her with puppy-dog eyes, making himself look even more adorable, he added softly, ‘And I’d really appreciate it if you said yes to that. I may look like a party animal, but I’m actually just a knackered old businessman with one too many meetings under his belt.’

  Laughing softly, Maria felt the tension drift away. Not only a to-die-for hunk, but considerate, too.

  ‘Okay, I’ll stay for another drink. But only if you’re sure I’m not keeping you from anything?’

  ‘Nothing whatsoever,’ Joel assured her. ‘I’m free for the rest of the night. Ready for another?’

  ‘Mmmm.’ Finishing her drink, Maria handed the glass to him. ‘What is that?’ she asked, licking the sticky sweetness from her lips.

  ‘A secret.’ Winking, Joel called the barman over and ordered two doubles of the same. Then, turning back to Maria, he said, ‘So, how long have you been modelling?’

  ‘Excuse me?’ Drawing her head back, she pursed her lips amusedly.

  ‘Modelling,’ he said again, looking her over slowly and whistling softly through his teeth. ‘Catwalk . . . Body like that, it’s got to be catwalk.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘What – not catwalk?’

  ‘Not a model.’

  ‘Really?’ Joel raised a surprised eyebrow. ‘You must be an actress, then.’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Maybe I am losing my touch. But I never give in without a fight.’ Folding his arms, Joel tapped a fingernail against his teeth and stared at her for an age. Then, snapping his fingers, he said, ‘Singer!’

  ‘Definitely not!’ Maria laughed. ‘I’ve got a terrible voice.’

  ‘For real?’

  ‘For real.’

  Joel pursed his kissable lips. ‘Hmmm. I thought that’s where I might have seen you before – in a studio, or at a gig, or something. But if you say you’re not, then I guess you’re not.’ He shrugged. ‘Go on, then – put me out of my misery.’

  ‘I’m a teacher,’ Maria said, aware that she was beginning to slur her words.

  ‘Really?’ He looked impressed.

  ‘Uh huh.’ Nodding, she gave a modest shrug. ‘’S only art, but it’s okay.’

  ‘Hey, don’t sell yourself short,’ Joel reprimanded her. ‘Teaching is a great career – for teachers. You should be modelling, though.’

  The barman brought their fresh drinks. Seeing that he still looked nervous, Joel tossed him a wink and told him to keep the change.

  ‘Ah, that was sweet.’ Maria wrinkled her nose cutely.

  ‘I remember what it’s like struggling on minimum wage,’ Joel said, handing a glass to her and raising his own. ‘To beauty and brains.’

  Smiling, Maria clinked her glass against his and took a long drink. It was stronger than the last one, but so nice.

  ‘So, haven’t you ever considered modelling?’ Joel asked, still playing the flattery card.

  ‘No, never.’ Maria shook her head slowly. It was beginning to feel weird – heavy on the outside, light on the inside.

  ‘You should. You can make serious money in that game – with the right guidance.’

  ‘Sounds like you know all about it.’

  ‘Kind of.’ Joel shrugged casually. ‘I’m more involved in the music industry, really. But I know people who know people, so if you ever did feel like getting into it . . .’

  ‘I don’t think so.’ Maria was trying so hard to look cool and in control, but her lips kept smiling by themselves, and her arms felt floaty.

  ‘It’s got to be the cushiest job ever,’ Joel persisted.

  ‘Actually,’ Maria said, speaking slowly because the words felt clumsy on her tongue, ‘I don’t need a job.’

  Her eyes were glassy as she gazed at Joel – and all the more stunning for it, he thought – like sapphires on ice.

  ‘Oh, yeah? Rich, are we?’

  ‘You could say that,’ Maria giggled. ‘See, I have just found out that I have got a . . . Oops!’ Catching herself, she threw a hand up to her mouth and giggled. ‘Oh, no, no, no!’ She wagged a finger in his face. ‘I can’t tell you about that. I don’t even know you.’

  ‘Course you do,’ Joel purred, slipping a supportive arm around her waist as she began to sway on the stool. ‘We’re friends now. You can tell me anything . . .’

  5

  Waking to the rumble of an early-morning tram trundling by down below, Joel rubbed his eyes and looked around. As the room slowly came into focus in the half-light, he looked at Maria beside him and smiled. She looked so innocent with her eyes closed and her hair fanned out around her head.

  Getting up, he padded through to the bathroom for a wash, then came back and got dressed without waking Maria. Taking a sheet of paper off the little pad on the table, he started to write a note, then changed his mind and screwed it up. They’d had a great night, but they were never going to see each other again, so why complicate things?

  Slipping his jacket on, Joel had a quick mooch around, then let himself quietly out.

  The blind was partially drawn when Maria woke up some time later; morning sunlight streamed across the bed in a glittery dust-speckled shaft. Remembering where she was, she whipped her head around. She didn’t know if she was more relieved or offended to discover that she was alone.

  She was certainly ashamed.

  Burying her face in the pillow, she groaned when she smelled the dark, musky scent of aftershave on the cotton slip.

  Oh, God! How could she have let him sweet-talk his way into her bed? How absolutely stupid was that? And her of all people. She had never had a one-night stand. A few short-term relationships, yes, but never a one-night throwaway shag. That was the kind of thing that slags did, and Maria had fought so hard not to land herself with that tag. Care kids got enough stick without giving the haters ammunition.

  Oh, Joel had seen her c
oming, all right. Flatter her with a sexy grin, and get her pissed on a few fancy drinks, and . . . Hey, presto! Wham, bam, thank you, mam!

  But no, that wasn’t really fair. She’d wanted him as much as he’d wanted her by the time they’d left the bar last night. She’d been drunk, but not so much that she hadn’t known – almost – exactly what she was doing.

  Well, more fool her for reading more into it than was there, because it obviously hadn’t meant a thing to him. The only consolation was that it had happened here and not back home, so there was no danger of anyone finding out how low she had sunk.

  Tossing the quilt aside in a fit of self-disgust, Maria marched into the bathroom and scrubbed herself clean in the shower – praying that she hadn’t picked up anything nasty from her sleazy encounter.

  Stupid, stupid, STUPID!

  Feeling a little more in control once she was dressed, she checked her purse. The money was still there, so at least he hadn’t ripped her off. That would have been a total disaster. And she’d have had nobody to blame but herself.

  Making herself a strong coffee, she called the mobile number on the card that the solicitor had given her. If she had been wavering before, she now knew exactly what she had to do.

  ‘It’s Maria Price,’ she said when Nigel answered. ‘Sorry for disturbing you so early, but I’ve changed my mind about seeing the house. Would it be possible to show me around?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ Nigel said without hesitation. ‘When?’

  ‘As soon as you can,’ Maria said, frowning at the eagerness in his voice.

  The only reason she wanted to see the house was to gauge its worth for herself before handing it over to an estate agent. She had no intention of granting Elsie’s wish to keep a ‘Davidson’ in residence. And after disgracing herself last night, she had no intention of staying in Manchester one moment longer than she had to.

  ‘I was just about to set off, as it happens,’ Nigel said cheerily. ‘Traffic permitting, I could pick you up in – say – half an hour?’

  ‘Make it an hour so you don’t have to rush,’ she told him curtly. ‘And you don’t have to come for me. I’ve got the address. I’ll catch a bus.’

  Maria didn’t want to offend him, but he obviously had an emotional attachment to this estate, so the more detached she stayed from him, the less guilty she would feel when she told him what she intended to do.

  ‘Please let me pick you up,’ Nigel said. ‘I’m not being funny, Miss Price, but you really don’t want to be taking a bus on that route at this time of the morning. I have it on good authority from one of the secretaries that it gets quite hairy when kids from rival schools come face to face.’

  ‘Fine.’ Maria conceded, sighing wearily. ‘I’ll be waiting outside in half an hour.’

  Flipping his phone shut, Nigel slipped it into his pocket, frowning. Maria had sounded odd, and he hoped it was nothing he’d done. It had been awkward when she’d been leaving the office yesterday – when they’d shaken hands and he’d snatched his away like an idiot. But she’d been smiling when she left, so he doubted it was that.

  What, then?

  Taking his jacket off the stand, he pulled it on and reached into the pocket for his comb. Standing in front of the mirror he tidied his hair, easing it into place to disguise the thinning bits. His jaw clenched when his mother came out of the parlour behind him.

  ‘Who were you talking to just now?’ she asked – as if it was any of her business.

  ‘A client.’

  ‘A client ?’ She cast a disapproving glance at the dumpy old grandmother clock standing against the stair wall in its glossy walnut dress. ‘At this time?’

  ‘An important client,’ he informed her coldly, heading for the door.

  ‘Aren’t you going to say goodbye to your aunt?’ she called after him as he rushed out.

  Shuddering, Nigel slammed the door and hurried down the steps, deactivating his car alarm as he went. Climbing into the driver’s seat, he started the powerful engine and shot forward, spraying gravel up in a neat arc as he gunned towards the gates. Pausing there just long enough to fasten his seat belt, he roared out onto the lane and headed for the motorway with his jaw still angrily clenched.

  Say goodbye to his aunt, indeed! He’d had more than enough of the two of them last night – quizzing him about his love life like interrogators in the goddam Gestapo! Hitler would have been proud to have them on side. They could strip the flesh off a suspect with just a look.

  Well, he wasn’t going through another night of that. If his aunt’s enormous backside was still suffocating the Chesterfield when he got home tonight, he’d turn right around and head back into town to book himself into a hotel.

  The Britannia, perhaps . . .

  Well, why not? It had been rated ‘Best in the North-West’ three years running. And it wasn’t as if he’d be doing it to be near Maria. That was just ridiculous. Anyway, she was leaving this afternoon. She wouldn’t even be there.

  How weird if he got the same room, though. Now that would be freaky. Like some sort of sign that they . . .

  ‘Oh, pack it in, you bloody idiot!’ Nigel scolded himself out loud. ‘It isn’t going to happen – not in a million years.’

  And that was the sad truth, he knew, because a gorgeous young woman like Maria would never look twice at a gangly, too-tall, too-thin fool like him.

  But if he had to be alone for the rest of his life, he’d rather that than go along with the ridiculous suggestion that his mother and aunt had come up with last night. Christ, he’d rather date Adam than put himself through the humiliation of joining a dating agency. But the way his mother and her sister had ambushed him with it, he wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t already have an application form.

  Shit!

  If they had picked one up, Nigel wouldn’t put it past them to fill it out in his name. But he dreaded to think what they’d say about him, given that neither of them had a clue who he really was, or what he wanted out of life.

  He could just see it . . .

  Q: What kind of women would you be interested in meeting?

  A: Any!

  Q: Do you prefer: blondes, brunettes, or redheads?

  A: Any!

  Q: Age group:18–30 31–45 46–60 61–90

  A: ANYYYY!!!

  A chill hand grabbed his gut as it occured to him that if he’d thought about them filling the forms out, they might not be too far behind. Closing his eyes, he groaned.

  BBBBBRRRRRAAAARRRPPPP . . .

  Almost dying of fright at the volume and closeness of the horn blast, Nigel snapped his eyes open and almost choked when he saw that he was straying into the path of an articulated lorry.

  Swerving wildly onto the hard shoulder, he came to a screeching stop, his heart beating so hard and fast that it felt as if it was making a break for freedom. Leaning his head back, he breathed slowly and evenly until it slowed to near normal.

  Angry now, he brought his fist down on the steering wheel. Shit! He couldn’t put it off any longer – he had to get away from his mother before she killed him.

  He’d give Quay Moves a call when he got to the office – see if they could slot him in to view one of their Deansgate apartments this afternoon. He could certainly afford it, and it was high time he had a place of his own. And if his mother tried to guilt-trip him into changing his mind by crying about the mausoleum she called home being too big without him, he would suggest that she move her precious sister in!

  Decided, he eased back into the traffic and headed into Manchester with a lighter heart.

  6

  Standing in the sunny quarry-tiled hallway forty minutes later, Nigel watched Maria’s face as she turned in a slow circle, taking everything in. She loved it, he could tell. And if she loved it, she might just consider keeping it.

  Not, he reminded himself sternly, that it made any difference to him if she did. But it would be nice to keep the tradition alive – him handling the affairs for the niece t
hat his uncle had handled for the aunt.

  ‘It’s quite something, isn’t it?’ he said.

  ‘Beautiful,’ Maria agreed, her voice soft as she fought to stem the tide of emotions washing over her.

  She hadn’t expected to feel anything, but now that she was here, in the place where the family she had supposedly shared blood ties with had lived, she was feeling a little choked, wondering how different life might have been had she had the chance to come here when the Davidsons were alive.

  But she knew who to thank for that, didn’t she – her loving aunt, Elsie, who had claimed to be so interested in Maria that she went to the trouble of hiring a private detective to track her down, yet hadn’t made the slightest attempt to rescue her from those awful care homes. She hadn’t even bothered to contact Maria to let the girl know that she wasn’t alone in the world – not even when Maria turned sixteen, and the authorities couldn’t have stopped her. Elsie had chosen to leave it until she was dead – dangling the family carrot in front of Maria’s eyes, then snatching it cruelly away, leaving the house and money as a consolation prize.

  ‘It looks a little neglected, I know, but it’s actually in superb condition structurally,’ Nigel was telling her, oblivious to the fact that she was so deeply immersed in her own thoughts. ‘Miss Davidson was very sensible about maintenance. She had annual inspections done, inside and out, and any problems were dealt with immediately.

  ‘There’s no double glazing,’ he went on, sounding more like an estate agent now than a solicitor. ‘But that’s par for the course in this type of property, because original stained-glass and leaded windows are incredibly difficult to replace with anything approaching like quality. And I’m afraid the boiler system is fairly old, but that’s easily remedied. It depends whether you want instant hot water or are prepared to plan ahead.’

  Smiling politely as Nigel followed her around, prattling about the fixtures and fittings, Maria phased him out and explored the ground floor, soaking everything up and committing it to memory to tell Beth all about it when she got home.