* * * *
One month later, Guy returned to London with a sense that his world had been turned upside-down. He no longer knew how to function. He looked around his small surgery room, with the observation table, his books, and the eye chart hanging on the wall, just as he had left them three months earlier. It was as if he were looking at a new and totally foreign landscape.
After Shelly had gone from the Maldives, he'd longed to return to his busy practice, to his patients, to daily jogs around Hyde Park. But figuring in all his dreams, he now realized, had been Shelly—standing on the beach in Male, handing him a towel as her eyes grew huge when he strode out of the water, walking around inside his house, the house she'd never seen, but which he somehow knew she'd adore, cooking in the kitchen. As relaxed and at home, she'd be watching the ten o'clock news with him, as she'd been with him on the Maldives watching the sunset, curled up in his arms, warm in his bed, a bed she'd never slept it, but which in the still of night, felt so empty without her. She was always there in his mind and in his heart—but no longer in reality
The first week that he was home, he concentrated on work. He worked all the hours God sent, weekends in the local hospital, then at night. He contacted his banker to check out how his shares in Dalton's Oil & Real Estate were doing. He even phoned old man Dalton himself now and again, anything to be more involved and not to feel so alone.
But they seemed empty gestures, hollow somehow, without Shelly. He wished with all his soul, that she had been able to love him, for he had believed that he was capable of loving her. Not only for the here and now, but for a lifetime, if only she would let him. At the end of the second week, his pain and disappointment had gnawed a hole through his heart so large that he no longer feared her rejection. His thoughts were almost as dark and depressive as the bleak December weather outside his window. He had to talk to her, had to hear her sweet voice again. Even if all she did was scream at him and send him away.
Guy found the card she'd given him with her home number on it at a time when she hadn't believed him to be the lowest form of life on the planet. His hand trembled and the numbers blurred before his eyes. It hit him then that he hadn't phoned before because he was simply too terrified to hear it from her lips, to hear that it was truly over between them. On the Maldives, it had never really been said, Shelly had simply walked out of his life and he'd been able to pretend that there was still something between them. However the time for pretending was over, taking a deep breath, he punched in the number.
An answering machine picked up, Ted's impeccable voice, “Sorry, we're not in at the moment. Please leave your name and number and Ted, that's me, or Shelly, will get back to you."
Guy hung up. His brow was sweating and his hand shook as he replaced the receiver. What did it mean, when she hadn't changed her phone message yet? Did she still have feelings for her ex after all? Or worse still, had she moved back in with him? An hour later, he tried once more. Again, there was the machine. Early the following day, he called three times, and the next day, three more. Finally, he left a message. “Shelly, its Guy. Call me when you get this, okay. We have to talk."
Four days later, Shelly hadn't called him back.
Desperate as he was, he was still fuming and raw from her silent rebuffs. She'd obviously put their affair behind her, but he could not forget. It dawned on him that his life was nothing without her. Perhaps it was too late, but perhaps not. He picked up the phone to make one last call.
Mark seemed happy to hear from him. “So how's the chick magnet been while I've been in Bristol? I'll bet you're happy to be back to all those rosy-cheeked English girls you left behind. Right?” he teased; knowing how cut-up Guy had been when the little blonde had left Male.
"Can't complain,” Guy said with forced brightness. “Look, the reason I called is because I need a favor from you big time, buddy."
"Shoot."
"I need someone's address and I need you to get it for me, can you?"
There was a stagnant pause on the other end of the line. “Technically speaking, yes. But it's against the law to do such a thing. I could lose my job over this."
Guy sighed. “I know, but I'm desperate."
Because he did indeed, sound desperate and because he was a friend, Mark relented. “Whose number is it anyway? And why do you need the address?"
"It's Shelly's."
"The pretty blonde?"
"The very same. I need to find out where she lives but she's not returning my calls."
"Look, mate, maybe that could mean that she doesn't want to see you."
Guy said calmly, “I know but I'm hoping to change her mind. I want to ask her to marry me."
He could hear Mark half choking, half laughing on the other end of the line. “Hah!” Mark spluttered, “I knew something was up between you two. I wish you all the happiness."
"Wish me luck first, Shelly will need some high-powered convincing."
"Then good luck. I'll get back with the address as soon as I can. And if there is anything else I can do to help—"
"I'll call,” Guy finished for him. But he knew in his heart that once he had Shelly's address, everything would rest on him and him alone.
Chapter 25
Shelly's steamy dream of a handsome black-haired man with piercing blue eyes, whose name she'd banished the last month from her lips, was interrupted by a drip, drip, dripping sound. She rolled over and glared at the digital readout on her clock radio, six in the morning. She sat up in bed and rubbed at her eyes.
Her breasts were tender and her pussy drenched from the lingering threads of her dream. She cocked her head to the side and listened, it sounded as if someone had left the bath water running. Shelly's heart rushed to her throat and she threw back her covers, running barefoot in the hallway. Almost immediately, her feet encountered ice-cold water.
Claire, her light brown hair in disarray, was hopping up and down. Naked from the waist, up she cried, “The water won't stop."
As Shelly looked at her friend's large, jiggling breasts, she thought that was the understatement of the year. From the way the water was gushing out of the bathroom door and forming in small pools at her feet, it looked as though a dam had burst.
Shelly ignored the feeling of numbness creeping into her feet. “Why didn't you wake me?"
Claire still jumping from one foot to the other, said. “Given your condition, I thought it best to try and handle it on my own."
Shelly bit her lip. Claire really could be stupid sometimes, but her heart was in the right place. “Did you call for a plumber?"
"I went through just about every one in the phone book, none of them are answering. It's too early, I guess."
Shelly nodded. “Grab some towels.” The hem of her long pyjamas was already damp. She scouted around Claire, who was still standing futilely in the doorway. Further investigation showed that the water was escaping from the cabinet under the sink.
"Here.” Dancing around, Claire threw her a stack of towels that landed in every direction.
Shelly counted to ten and squatted down in front of the sink. She opened the cabinet. Immediately, a jet of icy cold water hit her in the face. Two bars of soap, still in their wrappers, floated past her feet. Heaven only knew what else had been stored under the sink or where it was headed now.
Shelly wiped the water from her eyes and peered in the cabinet. It didn't take long to determine that a pipe must have frozen and burst. With her forehead pressing against the edge of the sink, Shelly groped inside the cabinet for the knob that would turn the water supply off. Once she found it, she twisted it furiously until the flowing water dwindled a bit. It was still flowing too fast for her liking. But the knob was jammed and she couldn't switch it off completely.
"Claire!” Shelly shouted over her shoulder. “Get a basin and hurry, okay.” A couple of minutes later, Claire returned with the basin, her arms loaded with several pots and pans.
"Good thinking, we'll probably need those.”
Shelly gave her an encouraging smile.
Claire handed her the basin. “If only I'd thought earlier to turn the knob off, we wouldn't have had such a mess."
Shelly sighed. “Did the water get into any of the other rooms?"
Claire nodded quickly. “In my bedroom, but only as far as the door."
"Great,” Shelly mumbled under her breath. Now someone would have to come and dry the carpet. Yet another expense she couldn't afford on her nurse's salary, what with a baby on the way.
Both women paused.
"That sounded like the doorbell, didn't it?” Claire said, and stood to her feet. “I'll go see."
Shelly looked at her friend's naked breasts and gave her a wry look. “You'd better put something on."
Claire grinned. Slipping and sliding, she disappeared from the room.
On her hands and knees, Shelly sopped up as much water as she could, emptying the basin each time it was full into the bath. She was already soaked to the skin. She couldn't remember ever seeing a bigger mess in her life. She sneezed violently, and grabbed some toilet paper. It quickly dissolved in her wet hands.
"Here, why don't you use this?"
The husky male voice coming from behind her surprised Shelly so much that she remained kneeling in some of the coldest water she'd ever felt. She was terrified to turn round, in case he was really there. She was terrified too, in case he was only a figment of her imagination. Dumfounded, Shelly could only stare at Guy, very solid and definitely real, as he stepped around her.
He lovingly brushed a wet tendril of hair away from her face. Waves of heat, shocking in their intensity, rocked her body. “How's it going, angel?"
"Not good, a pipe under the sink burst and I can't switch the blasted water off.” Her pyjamas hung limply at her ankles, dripping water onto her feet, which were already blue from the cold. Her hair fell around her face and down her back, wet and lank. Shelly supposed she'd never looked worse, she felt like bursting into tears.
"Claire shouldn't have let you in,” she said once she had found her voice.
"She thought I was a milkman.” He flashed her a wicked smile. “And I'm glad she did, it looks like you need my help.” With that, he went and turned the water off so easily, it was as if it hadn't been jammed.
Great, now she not only looked stupid, she felt it, too. “Thanks for that. You can see yourself out."
Guy said, “Come on, woman, be reasonable, I haven't been standing the last two hours in the cold trying to pluck up the courage to knock on your door just to turn away now."
For the first time since he'd entered the room, Shelly really looked at him. He did indeed look cold. Despite his warm jacket, his cheeks were rosy and the tip of his nose was red.
Before him, Guy saw only the woman that he loved. Heedless of Shelly's wet state, he wrapped his arms around her and brought her close. Was it just his imagination, or did her breasts feel fuller, her hips more rounded than they'd been before?
Shelly shuddered and it wasn't because of the cold. Guy felt so warm and comforting, so concerned and loving. She had missed him dearly. Oh, how she had missed him.
"You're soaked to the skin,” he whispered close to her ear.
"I know."
"Go change, I can take over here,” he ordered.
The tears started then, huge glistening ones that refused to be stopped. “I can't. There aren't any dry towels in the house."
Guy jerked his dark wool jacket off and placed it around her shoulders. “Sweetheart, don't cry. Please. Everything's going to be all right. It's just a broken pipe, it's not the end of the world."
"Oh, but it is,” she bellowed and leaned her forehead against his muscled chest. “You're here and I never expected to see you again. Why did you come back? Haven't you hurt me enough?"
Guy's hand gripped her shoulders and eased her away so he could look her in the eye. “I wasn't unfaithful to you, angel, despite what Sue led you to believe. I wasn't. I'll even bring her here and shake the truth out of her if that's what it takes to convince you."
"Just go,” Shelly sniffed and hung her head as low as it would go. “Please just go. You cheated on me. Christ! I caught you red-handed with Sue naked in your arms, remember?"
Guy said softly, “I didn't."
"I'm going to change my clothes,” Shelly murmured, eager to escape. For she wanted to believe him, she truly did. Until that moment, she hadn't known how much.
"Good idea,” Guy answered, releasing her.
She stomped off to her bedroom and slammed the door. She discarded her pajamas and shivering, reached for a thick, wool sweater and a pair of loose fitting cords.
Guy was still in the bathroom, mopping up the water, when she reappeared a moment later. Shelly moved silently around him, gathered up the towels and threw them in the washing machine in the kitchen. She made a fresh pot of coffee, took a seat at the table and prepared herself to do battle.
"Uh-oh, trouble,” Guy said, as he entered the kitchen, watching her closely. “What's wrong?"
"You're still here, that's what's wrong!” she snapped, her light green eyes spitting flames.
He shrugged unresponsively. “Can I have a coffee?"
Shelly scowled, but couldn't help letting her eyes shift to the opening of his shirt and the well-defined shape within his briefs.
"What about your flat-mate? Won't she want one?” he inquired cordially.
"She's not my flat-mate, we're friend's. She's just staying with me for a couple days. And no, she won't want one. I informed her who you were, so she will leave us to battle this out between ourselves."
He pulled up a seat next to her and sat down. “Do we have to battle, angel?"
Shelly nodded. His hair was a little shorter, but he was still as handsome as ever. “If you would only go, then no."
His eyes, blue and intense, met hers, and a tiny shiver of awareness went through her. “Well, I'm not going anywhere, so let's get this over with."
Shelly waited for him to respond, but the room was filled with only the sound of a ticking clock. His silence was making her more than a little nervous. The picture he presented was all too ruggedly masculine, corded muscle, virile strength, all wrapped up in self-assurance as he leaned back in his chair, regarding her through narrowed intelligent eyes.
"Well, aren't you going to say something?” she asked.
"Give me a minute, will you?” he said mildly.
She nodded without looking up. “You're wasting your breath."
"God, but its good to see you again. I love you, Shelly."
"Huh!” She stood up and started pacing back and forth, fingers at her temple. “You've sure got a funny way of showing it, buddy."
The raw look of pain in her eyes hit Guy hard and low, like a punch. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and promise to keep her safe.
He did neither—instead, he stated, “Sue set us up, she wanted to split us up. I never touched her."
Shelly glanced at him over her shoulder. “And what, you want me to believe you're the innocent party in all this, just so drop-dead desirable that the woman flung herself at you?” Her gaze rested on him far too long before she looked up at the ceiling and sighed at herself. The problem was, he was desirable and then some. Even now, when she was feeling hurt and betrayed, she felt like snuggling up against him, taking his dick into her pussy. What was wrong with her?
Well she wasn't going to—
"Hungry?” she asked. “I make a mean spaghetti bolognaise."
Surprised by the subject change, Guy nodded. He wasn't hungry, especially not for pasta at six in the morning. But hey, if cooking helped calm her down, he was game for anything. While she rummaged like a madwoman in the fridge, he studied her. He had thought of little else apart from her and sliding into her warm body the last few weeks. Somehow, what he was thinking popped into his mouth and he murmured huskily, “I want to make love to you."
Shelly peeked at him from behind the fridge door, a bag of tomatoes
in her hand. The incredulity on her face was pretty obvious. He couldn't help smiling again. “Do you want to make love to me?” he asked as he got up from the table.
She was quick to recover and started chopping celery. “No."
"Why?” he inquired gently.
Her voice rose in hysteria. “Because of a certain redhead. Honestly, I think you must be off your head."
"I'm crazy for you. That's true,” he stated flatly as he continued his slow approach towards her, moving like a cat preparing to catch its prey.
Shelly instinctively braced herself against the fridge, gripping it so hard, her fingers ached. Guy came to a halt barely two inches from her. She could feel his brute strength, thinly restrained, emanating from beneath his expensive clothing. She stepped away from him and shoved a pile of plastic containers hastily into the microwave.
He was at her side in a moment, caressing her throat; he drew his fingertips slowly down her shoulder, along her arm, until finally, he wove them between hers. “We could, you know, do it right here and now."
"No.” Shelly pulled herself away from him and sat down at the kitchen table rubbing her temples.
"Because of Sue?” he asked and let out a long, acerbated breath, his erection strained like a flagpole beneath his trousers.
"Yes, because of Sue.” Shelly rested her chin on her knuckles and stared out the kitchen window into the bare swinging branches of an oak tree outside.
He sat back down opposite her. “Nothing happened between Sue and myself. I think, deep down, you know that as well as I do. This whole charade is just a convenient excuse to stop you from getting too close, to stop you from getting hurt again. So for God's sake, woman, give us a try."
"I can't.” She thought desperately, Because who is going to take care of me when I can't live up to your expectations?
The tempestuous blue eyes intensified. “Shelly, I want to marry you."
Good thing she'd sat down. He had to be kidding. Either that or he was delusional. She swallowed, wondering if her voice still worked. Desperately searching for excuses, she could only come up with a lame. “I wouldn't feel I could trust you."
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