Move Over Darling

by Christine Stovell

  ‘My place?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, looking him in the eye and leaving him in no doubt that her intention was not to do the dishes or push the Hoover round.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Gethin managed to rustle up a taxi with impressive speed, but a couple of blocks might just as well have been a trip to the moon, so giant a leap was it for Coralie and her stretched nerves. Before she managed to take control of her breathing, she was also worried that it would take a life-support pack for her to climb the grey marble steps up to his third-floor apartment.

  Inside, he drew her close. ‘Are you quite sure about this, Coralie?’ he murmured, stroking the soft nape of her neck.

  From somewhere unbidden, the dark memories welled up – the life lost, the lives wasted. Then something wonderful happened; as unexpectedly as they had appeared, the doubts faded and the worried voices fell silence. She felt as if she belonged in his arms.

  ‘What do you think?’ she asked softly, smiling up at him. Then he kissed her, his lips moving gently and slowly with hers, and the heat began to build. She closed her eyes, shivering with the thrilling sensation of his skin grazing hers as he bent his head to kiss her throat.

  Her hands moved to unbutton the rest of his shirt. Somehow it was mostly undone and hanging loose anyway. Of course, that didn’t mean that he didn’t still consider that she was the one who was buttoned-up. Maybe there was a chance he’d think she was removing his shirt because it was crumpled and she wanted to iron it? She decided on the direct approach and reached for his belt buckle. His sharp intake of breath indicated that she’d hit the spot, but before she’d managed to congratulate herself, his hand slid under her dress and she forgot what she was thinking.

  ‘That’s a yes,’ she gasped a few minutes later, lying on his bed, just in case he was in any doubt, ‘I’m sure.’

  Straightening up, she pushed his shirt off his shoulders and enjoyed getting acquainted with the sight of his lean, hard body that she’d only previously glimpsed. She made him lie down and traced the fine dark hairs across his chest, then followed to where they formed a dark line from his flat stomach downwards. Retracing the path her fingers had taken with her lips, she teased him with fluttery kisses and delicate nips, whilst her hands restrained him.

  ‘I’m a patient man,’ he said huskily, breaking free and rolling her on to her back, ‘but I have my limits and you’re pushing them.’

  His mouth moved to her throat. ‘I’ve waited a long time for this …’

  His breath was warm against her skin as he moved slowly down her body.

  ‘You have?’ She shuddered as the relentless progress of his tongue set off wavelets of pleasure rippling across her body.

  ‘Uh-huh.’ He propped himself up to look at her. ‘Ever since the moment I saw you doing your Little Red Riding Hood act out in the garden at Penmorfa.’

  Her only answer was a soft, involuntary moan, because his lips, following his fingers to explore her inner thigh, were doing something strange to her breathing pattern. She lifted her head at the same time as him and found herself looking into his deep, dark, midnight gaze. The Big Bad Wolf, all lean, hard and hungry, a slow smile playing across his face.

  Gethin propped himself up on his elbow so that he could get his fill of Coralie in the morning light: silky dark lashes, the pale, smooth skin of her back, her chestnut curls contrasting with the white pillow. It was a room that he’d always thought of as tranquil, the sliding shoji doors dividing it from the living room maximising the light and enhancing the apartment’s understated opulence. But now he was feeling anything but tranquil.

  Flashbacks of the night before fast forwarded through his brain: his hand on Coralie’s thigh, the slipperiness of silk sliding under his impatient fingers, her soft mouth hot against his. The soundtrack, too: whispers turning into moans, her breath in short, urgent gasps by his ear and then nothing but sweet, mindless oblivion.

  Coralie stirred in her sleep and turned towards him, her amber eyes trusting as her lashes fluttered and she glimpsed the first sight of him. When she reached up and traced his jaw with her fingers, he dropped his head to kiss her shoulder before anything in his expression betrayed his confusion. His body felt wonderful, as if it had only just experienced what it really was to make love, but his brain was telling him to wrap up everything quickly. His brain had a point. Any minute now, Pamala Gray would be setting her terrier, Laura Schiffman, on him, reminding him that he was meeting her at the gallery at lunchtime to go over the final details for the evening reception yet again. Although, why they couldn’t just get on with it without him, he didn’t know. The paintings could practically sell themselves.

  In which case …

  ‘Hey, you,’ Coralie murmured, winding her hands round his neck. He pulled her towards him, feeling his pulse leap at the sweet morning smell of her. God, how he longed to plunge into all that luscious heat and softness! Somehow, he managed to find enough willpower to hold back. He knew enough about her to realise that this wasn’t her usual style; there was a shyness about her which made a refreshing change from some of the women who commissioned him to paint them and acted as if they’d bought his body along with his talent.

  Coralie’s reticence made her more of a challenge, too; made him eager to discover the part of her she was withholding. Time had to be marching on, but he couldn’t bear the thought of losing what might be the last opportunity to feel her soft curves against his body.

  ‘Thank you for last night,’ he murmured, running his fingertip across her lips. ‘It was very special. You’re lovely – do you know that?’

  But when he stole a glance at her to see if her thoughts reflected his, he was alarmed to see her eyes brimming with tears. Oh, not now; he didn’t have time for a scene.

  ‘I’m not,’ she whispered, her pupils contracting as the cold daylight glanced across her pale face. ‘There’s something I need to tell you.’

  Uh-oh! The on-off boyfriend was back on the scene, perhaps, and now she was recriminating herself for giving in to temptation? He didn’t know whether to be relieved at the lucky escape from more emotional involvement than he could cope with or insulted that she’d used him.

  ‘Whatever it is,’ he said carefully, ‘it shouldn’t affect what’s taken place between us. There’s nothing you need feel guilty about.’

  ‘You sound like my mum,’ she said with a weak smile. ‘She’s always accusing me of punishing myself for something that wasn’t my fault.’

  ‘Well, you should listen to your mother. I wish I could still listen to mine, but it’s too late now.’ Where had that come from? This really wasn’t the moment to air his family’s misfortunes. Especially when he had such a full day ahead of him. But something about the woman lying next to him seem to fit so well, as if she were part of him, and it was making him drop his guard. He lifted his head just enough to catch a glance of his bedside clock. Ten-thirty already and he was supposed to be at the gallery by one o’clock. Heck, where was the morning going?

  And then he felt Coralie’s body quiver and saw the tears starting to spill down her face.

  ‘Come on, cariad,’ he said, holding out his arms and gathering her up. ‘Nothing’s that bad.’

  He lay still, rubbing her back until she cried herself out. Could he take the day off? Tell Pamala he was sick? Something was making his head swim and confusing his thinking. One thing at a time. First he’d try to find out what was causing Coralie so much distress. Probably best just to let her get it off her chest.

  ‘So, tell me about it,’ he said gently.

  After a deep breath, he heard her gather herself ready to speak.

  ‘Before I moved to Penmorfa, I used to work for a management consultancy, in the Process Improvement Unit – that means axing jobs to you and me. It’s easy to make struggling firms more efficient; you either get them to run better computer systems or lose staff. Most of the time you can pat yourself on the back and tell yourself that the human sacrific
es are worth it. Another company is saved and people’s jobs are secure – until the next round at least.’

  ‘Quite a responsibility,’ he observed, sympathetic but at the same time willing her to get to the point.

  She nodded and went on. ‘Only this time, the company I was sent to was close to home. My boss assured me everything would be fine. Except that I knew one of the employees through a mutual acquaintance, a guy called Ned Wallace. Ned was a nice enough guy, a bit of a lad, liked all the trappings, you know? Designer suits, go-faster car – all bought on credit, it transpired later. He never believed for one moment that he was expendable, but the management level there was far too top-heavy so it was the obvious place to cut. Ned, of course, was then faced with the reality of not being able to finance his extravagant lifestyle. That was the moment when all the careful calculations I’d made in the seclusion of a tidy office became a messy, uncontrollable reality.’

  She paused to collect herself again. ‘On the surface Ned took it quite well. Joked about how he was going to blow the redundancy money on the holiday of a lifetime, but no one realised that he was far from being all right.’

  ‘So?’ He stroked her shoulder. ‘You can’t make everything better, Coralie. Sounds like the guy was a loser, carrying that amount of debt. You might even have done him a favour.’

  She cleared her throat so that she could carry on. Fresh tears started sliding down her cheeks on to the pillow. ‘No. He lost everything he had, but he wasn’t the only victim. He was distressed about how his fiancée would take the news that he’d lost his job. So, he drove round aimlessly, screwing up the courage to go home, and he completely failed to notice a pedestrian crossing. He didn’t see a young trainee teacher, Hayley Butterfield, returning to her flat from the convenience store across the road.’

  ‘Oh, no.’ He stared at the ceiling feeling helpless.

  ‘Hayley was killed instantly, although Ned Wallace didn’t know that because he just kept driving. Somehow, he convinced himself if he didn’t stop, it hadn’t really happened, so he just kept going until he got home. It took three days before his conscience got the better of him. Even then he only handed himself in because he realised he’d been found out. He’d had his car repaired, you see, the day after the accident. He guessed, correctly as it transpired, that the mechanic would see the appeal for information and put two and two together.’

  She paused to swipe at her tears. ‘Three days, imagine that. And a young woman lying dead and her family’s lives in ruin because of what I’d done.’

  ‘No.’ He sat up and drew her to him. ‘You can’t blame yourself for that. It was him, the driver, who killed that girl, not you.’ He looked at her pinched face. ‘Oh, Coralie. That’s the burden you’ve been carrying all this time? The reason you took yourself off to the middle of nowhere? So you could hide away from it all?’

  She took a deep, shuddering breath. If he could have stayed there with her, he would have, but that would mean letting too many people down. The gallery assistants, Ruby, everyone who was working so hard to make this day a success for him. So he tried to make it better as far as he could. He took her face gently in his hands and made her look at him. ‘Listen, Coralie, you have to forgive yourself or it’ll ruin your life, too.’

  ‘But it wasn’t just Hayley’s family who suffered that day. My decision cost Ned Wallace dearly, his family disowned him, his fiancée called off their wedding. He was left with no one.’

  ‘Some people would call that retribution.’

  ‘Not me, I—’

  ‘Forget about it, Coralie,’ he said, letting her go. ‘You’ve lived with this for long enough. It’s time to move on.’

  He couldn’t help stealing another glance at his clock. And she saw him. He groaned inwardly; the fact that he’d been smiling and trying to sound friendly and reassuring didn’t make him feel any less of a bastard for not giving her every bit of his attention.

  ‘Coralie, I’m sorry—’

  ‘No, really, it’s fine.’ The vulnerability in her eyes, when she stared at him as if trying to convince herself she’d been mistaken, could have broken his heart. Really, she didn’t know how much better it was this way.

  ‘I really shouldn’t be going on at you when you’ve got so much to do.’ She turned on her side before swinging her legs to the edge of the bed. Her shoulders drooped as she paused, very briefly, and he began to register how much she was hurting. He longed to pull her back to him and cradle her against his chest. Except he was so afraid that eventually he’d only end up hurting her more.

  ‘Perhaps you’d call a cab for me?’

  ‘Hey, look – let’s both shower and have breakfast then we could go together, if you like?’

  Jesus, he was gabbling, but with that vulnerable expression she was wearing he was afraid that he’d fill a gap by saying something stupid, like ordering her to tear up her ticket and asking her to stay with him. He wished he could make everything all right for her.

  ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, do you, not when you’ve got such a busy day ahead and the reception this evening.’

  The reception! Maybe that would be his chance to put things right?

  ‘You are coming tonight, aren’t you?’ he asked desperately. ‘Only, I’d like you to see the new work before you go.’

  Go. He looked past her, at the black metal fire escapes snaking down the yellow brick apartment blocks opposite and tried not to think about how much he’d miss her. Otherwise, he’d start wondering why he’d utterly failed to paint her portrait, and why all that heat and intimacy had only left an increasing craving for her. Not looking at her made it easier for him to inject the right note of cheerfulness into his voice. The mistake he made was glancing at her and seeing how the lovely soft morning smile had vanished from her face to be replaced by something shadowed and hidden. He almost relented and reached out for her.

  ‘Just one thing,’ she said quietly.

  He held his breath.

  ‘The portrait …’

  ‘I’ll scrap the whole idea, if you like,’ he said, lifting his hands. ‘You were never very happy with the whole idea, were you?’ he pointed out, trying to sound like a reasonable man rather than a guilty one. ‘So, it’s not fair to put you through that kind of ordeal when it’s not really working for either of us. I’ll sort something out for the charity auction. I won’t let Penmorfa down.’

  ‘Well,’ she stood up, giving him a tight little smile, before gathering up her clothes, ‘you’re all heart.’

  At the sound of the shower he flopped back on the bed and let out a long breath.

  There had been no other choice, he thought, after the taxi had driven her away. Penmorfa was renowned for its outstanding natural beauty, but however lovely Coralie was, it didn’t mean he wanted to spend the rest of his life there. It was better that he forgot about her. Every time he thought about the place where he grew up it reminded him that according to precedent, Lewis men weren’t good to their women. Hadn’t his father shamelessly taken all the love his mother gave him and worn it down in the cold and mud and the long, hard hours at the farm? He thought he’d escaped his destiny by leaving Penmorfa behind; the last thing he’d expected was that it would follow him.

  Now Coralie’s absence was all around him. He couldn’t face Ruby’s sarcasm, either, so he tapped out a text telling her he’d meet her at the gallery and set off. Outside, he crossed a grating and the ozone smell of the subway rose up beneath him, the accompanying hot air feeling uncomfortably like a forewarning that there’d be hell to pay for behaving so badly. Crossing the roadway into the Park, he was so busy trying to convince himself that all he’d done was neatly sidestep a difficult obstacle that he was almost hit by an oncoming roller-blader.

  Having dodged past the cyclists and joggers, he hoped that looking at the scenery would make him feel more at peace. The cherry trees were still waiting to come into blossom, but the last of the daffodils, that always reminded him of home, now
turned their heads away in another rebuke.

  Even the birds seemed less than harmonious: sharp-beaked starlings, so much more aggressive looking than their European counterparts, made a thuggish crew, strutting in their shiny green-and-black, two-tone plumage. A huge pigeon, clumping along like a dinosaur walking the plains, watched stupidly as a cluster of sparrows stole the scraps of bread from under its feet. Somehow Gethin couldn’t help but identify with it; he was pretty sure that he had just allowed something to be snatched away from under his nose, too.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Forty-five minutes, thought Coralie, feeling dazed. Not even a full hour to get out of Gethin’s apartment. She’d once seen a programme about low-temperature surgery. A reduced need for food and air was supposed to keep the patient comfortably numb and preserve the vital organs. Maybe the frozen feeling around her heart would prove to be similarly protective?

  So much tidier this way, she tried to tell herself, as the taxi dropped her outside Ruby’s apartment block. Surgically clean. No hanging around like a persistent stain. Why pretend it could be any other way? It wasn’t as if they had a future together, but if all Gethin Lewis had been after was a one-night stand, he could have saved her a lot of time and effort by dropping the pretence that it was all about art.

  Letting her forehead rest lightly against Ruby’s aquamarine door as she inserted the key, she stared down at the oily-green linoleum lining the communal spaces. Except that no one had forced her into his bed; she’d gone to him gladly. Ruby’s Uncle Sam poster pointed at her accusingly as she opened the door. Deep down, hadn’t she always accepted that part of his attraction was that there was no future for them? Maybe she’d even tried out her confession for precisely that reason? So that she could say some of those troubling words out loud because there was nothing to lose?

  Coralie closed her eyes and exhaled slowly.