CHAPTER SEVEN
IT WAS THE first time she’d been to Olly’s home. He lived in a quaint house made of grey stone that sat on the end of a long terrace.
She rang the doorbell and waited, ignoring the cold that was seeping through her boots and into her toes. It wasn’t as bad as the other day, when she’d slipped into the icy water, but it was getting there.
The door opened and Olly stood there, a smile on his face. ‘Lula! I wasn’t expecting you. Something wrong with the home visit rota?’
‘No, no…I just wondered if I might ask you a favour?’
He nodded, then stepped back, welcoming her in, and she entered the house, enjoying the rich warmth inside. As she passed the living room she saw a large open fire, already lit, crackling and spitting its way through the logs. Then she followed him into the kitchen.
It was in an old style, full of faded beech, and the walls were painted a soft green. Copper-bottomed pans hung from the ceiling above a central breakfast bar, where he appeared to have been chopping some vegetables.
‘I’m sorry if I’ve interrupted your lunch.’
‘These are for this evening’s casserole. Would you like to join us?’
It was a nice offer, but she didn’t want to intrude on him any more than she already had done. He’d made it clear by leaving her after their passionate encounter, and then lying about his reasons for doing so, that he didn’t want to get too involved with her.
‘No, no, I wouldn’t dream of—’
‘It’s not a problem. There’s plenty, and Dad would love to catch up with you.’
Patrick would like to catch up with her? Not Olly? Another sign…
‘Well, thank you.’
‘You’re happy with lamb?’
She nodded. It was her favourite.
‘Drink? Tea? Coffee?’
‘No, thanks. I just popped round to ask you a quick question.’
He stopped his chopping to focus on her and she found herself feeling awkward beneath his soft blue gaze. ‘You know I’m still looking for my mother?’
Olly nodded.
‘I want to speak to Elizabeth Love. She’s my only lead left and I’m kind of nervous about that.’
He nodded his head slowly. ‘When are you going to speak to her?’
‘Tomorrow. And that’s what I’m here for. I’d really feel better about going if you were with me. For moral support. But if you don’t want to I don’t want you to feel forced to do it.’
‘Why wouldn’t I want to support you?’ He sounded genuinely perplexed by her explanation.
She looked away from his steely gaze, shrugging. ‘Just…you know…last night… And now I’m asking you to maybe come and find my mother with me… I wouldn’t want you to think I was pushing you into getting more involved with my circumstances than you need to be.’
‘Lula, I’d love to help you. This is a big thing. Last night was…’ he looked uncomfortable ‘…was something we should never have done.’
Lula stood looking at him across the breakfast bar, shocked to hear him actually say it to her. She’d assumed he’d try to skirt the issue. ‘Right…no…that’s fine. I understand. I mean, me, too… I don’t want to get romantically involved with anyone, you know…’ Her sentence drifted off into nothing.
He stepped around the bar towards her. ‘In fact I’d like to apologise. I should never have slept with you. Not that I didn’t want to! I did, and you were amazing. But…you were vulnerable and upset. I should never have taken advantage.’
He was standing very close to her now and she could smell his scent. A masculine scent of musk and something like sandalwood. It was delicious.
‘Advantage? No, Olly, you didn’t. I wanted it just as much as you did.’ She frowned. ‘Is that why you pretended you got a call-out?’
His cheeks flushed and he took a step back. ‘You know?’
Lula smiled and nodded. ‘I found out this morning. I thought you’d had second thoughts, but I wasn’t sure why. Not that it matters anyway. We’re both consenting adults. We both enjoyed it.’
Just talking about it brought memories of their night rushing back into her head. The heat. The way he’d moved above her. The way he’d touched her, kissed her, his mouth nibbling and licking in all the right places…
Lula flushed with need but, unable to pursue it, looked down at the floor to try and gain some control over her feelings and thoughts. She would have given anything to enjoy those sensations again, but she wouldn’t allow herself.
Olly looked as if he was struggling to speak. His mouth opened as if he was about to say something, then closed as his gaze roamed over her, his blue eyes sparkling with hunger for her.
‘So…you’ll come with me? Tomorrow?’ She looked back at him, in control once more.
‘Sure.’
‘And I’ll come for dinner tonight?’
He nodded. ‘About seven?’
Lula smiled. Yes. That was fine.
‘Dad goes out after dinner on a Thursday night.’
Of course—it was Thursday! She had another belly-dancing class at six! ‘I might be a little late. My class runs till seven o’clock, and then I’ll have to lock up.’
‘It’ll keep for when you get here.’
Their gazes locked and they stood there for some time. Neither of them moving forward. Neither of them moving away. Just looking at each other, lost in their own emotions and needs.
Eventually the sound of the kitchen clock ticking away made her return to the here and now. ‘I’ll get going, then.’
Olly followed her to the front door.
She wasn’t sure whether to kiss him goodbye or not, but she couldn’t resist. What harm could one goodbye kiss do? She stood on tiptoe, closing her eyes as she planted her lips on his cheek. For a moment she hovered there, her eyes still closed, inhaling the scent of him, debating whether she should kiss him properly—especially when she felt him brush his lips over the side of her mouth.
How easy it would be to turn her head…so tempting!
Instead, she lowered herself off her tiptoes and stepped back, smiling. ‘Well, I’ll see you.’
‘Right.’ He looked disappointed. ‘Have you got many house calls to make?’
‘Three. I’m on my way now.’
‘Want company?’
Yes, she did. Olly’s company would be nice right now. But was it fair to ask him to go with her? It was only three house calls, and he’d done his fair share of them for some time whilst the practice had searched for a locum. She wanted to pull her own weight properly, but she didn’t want to offend him by saying no.
‘That’s up to you. I don’t mind. I’m happy to do them on my own.’
‘I’ll grab my coat.’ He reached for his jacket and shrugged it over his shoulders, then stuck his feet into some tough-looking hiking boots and tied the laces. ‘Ready when you are.’
She went outside to her car and heard his steps falter as they neared the spotted Betsy.
‘Ah, I forgot about her.’ He grinned ruefully.
Lula smiled at his amusement. ‘How could you ever forget Betsy? There aren’t that many cars painted like a ladybird, you know.’ She slid in the driver’s side and leant over to pop his door open. When he got in she had to fight the urge to lean over and kiss him. It was what she wanted to do. Wanted very much indeed. But she knew it wouldn’t be right and she started the engine, determined not to think about the way he kissed. Or touched. Or made her feel.
How could he have disrupted her state of mind so much? He was just an ordinary man, like any other. Wasn’t he? And though it might be fun and sexy and irresistible with him right now, as time went by the situation most certainly would change. There would have to be commitment and, Olly being Olly, he would undoubtedly start to want children. He was traditional that way. And she couldn’t give him that. Nor did she want to go through the pain of splitting up with him. She’d been there, done that, and it had been hard and disruptive.
/> Best to keep things light and fun. They could have fun, right? Without it becoming too serious?
‘So, who’s first?’
She passed him the list. ‘Karen Harper. What do you know about her?’
‘Karen? She’s a lovely old lady. She was at your dance class the other week.’
‘Which one was she?’
‘A few rows back from the front? Black leotard with pink leggings?’ He smiled at the memory.
Lula nodded. She remembered her. She’d been the only lady there in a leotard—all the others had turned up in tee shirts or tracksuits. And the bright pink leggings had revealed a very good pair of shapely legs for an elderly lady. Lula had liked her. She’d really embraced the class and laughed and had fun.
‘Apparently she’s taken a fall in the snow and thinks she’s sprained her ankle. She doesn’t want to go to hospital to have it checked and couldn’t make it in to the surgery for us to check it. Shame. Probably means she won’t be at my class tonight.’
‘You know she once made a play for my father?’
Lula glanced at him as she drove through the slush. ‘Really?’
‘He let her down very gently. There’s never been anyone else for him apart from my mother.’
‘He loved your mum very much?’
‘She was an amazing woman.’
‘I thought you didn’t remember her?’
‘I don’t, but my father has told me so much about her I feel as if I do.’
Lula nodded in understanding. ‘No wonder you have a list of attributes for your ideal woman. You’re looking for what your father had.’
She felt him looking at her and burned beneath his gaze. ‘That’s deep. I didn’t know you had psychology training as well as training in general practice.’
Lula laughed gently. ‘I took a side class.’
He was quiet for a moment, then spoke again, his voice low. ‘Perhaps you’re right. When my dad speaks of her he gets this faraway look in his eyes and he goes all wistful. And he talks of her so…lovingly. Like she was perfect, you know? I’m sure they must have had their moments when they couldn’t even look at each other, but the way he tells it…she was everything.’
Lula said nothing. Neither of them had had a mother. It was something they shared in common, even if for different reasons. She knew how much it had hurt her not to have a mother. Or a father, for that matter. She’d felt lost and rootless and unwanted as a little girl—had often felt that she had no value whatsoever. And at senior school she’d been picked on because of it. Kids had called her ‘Annie’ after the most famous orphan of Broadway. Lula had hated it and had been angry at a mother she didn’t have for putting her through it.
How had it been for Olly? He had a mother he couldn’t remember. One who had died unexpectedly in a tragic accident before her time. He couldn’t get his mother back, but she might find hers. There was still an opportunity for her to build bridges. Or at least she hoped so. What would it be like to lose her forever?
As she pulled up in front of Karen’s house she got out of the car and looked at him across the roof of Betsy. ‘There’s someone out there. For you. Someone who’s perfect.’
He frowned. ‘So it’s not you, then?’
Lula stopped in her tracks.
No! I can’t let it be me!
‘I’m not the marrying kind, and you’re after someone who wants to take a short walk down a church aisle and into a maternity unit.’
She turned away before he could answer her. But he caught up with her before she was halfway up the pathway.
‘Who’s to say that’s what I want?’
She looked at his hand gripping her arm. ‘Of course it’s what you want. You’ve been telling yourself that for years.’
He let go. ‘It’s different now.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I met you.’
The intensity in his eyes frightened her. She pushed past him and rang the doorbell, her heart thundering away in her chest and her stomach rolling and dipping like a ship on a stormy sea.
They headed into Karen’s house. She was surprised to see two doctors turn up for her sprained ankle. They strapped her ankle and advised her to rest, then spent their next two visits keeping their conversation light and noncommittal.
It was getting awkward. Already.
Lula grimaced her way through the afternoon, determined more than ever that she was right to keep her distance from Olly.
*
The casserole was simmering nicely, and rich, meaty smells filled the James household. Patrick had opened a bottle of red and prepared a selection of soft drinks for Lula, who was on call that evening.
She arrived about fifteen minutes late and drifted into Olly’s kitchen wearing her belly-dancing paraphernalia. Once again he was treated to the sight of her trim waist, with her belly button jewel twinkling in the firelight. Her bangles clinked and jingled, giving off a musical noise every time she moved, and she wore the most amazing skirt, that appeared to be made of some sort of wafting fabric that floated about her body as she walked.
He tried not to stare, but it was difficult.
‘You’re going to be on call wearing that?’
He could just imagine the reactions of some of the elderly male patients when she turned up wearing a skirt with a huge split up the side. He remembered what it had felt like to slide his fingers up the length of her legs and had to swallow hard and pretend he was checking the roast potatoes in the oven.
Since last night he’d not been able to think straight. She was in his head no matter which way he turned. She was at work, she was in his home, but always just out of reach. And he was sensing she really wanted to keep him there. Out of reach. And here she was again, looking all petite and beautiful and alluring, and all he could think of was sweeping her up into his arms and whisking her away up the stairs. Leaving his dad to eat the casserole alone whilst he and Lula enjoyed each other once more.
And it wasn’t just the sex, he kept telling himself. It was Lula herself. She had no idea how amazing she was—the type of person she was. Her quirky traits, her unique look. They were all things he would never have normally been attracted to, but with Lula it was different. He was attracted to her—there was no denying that. There were strong feelings—he couldn’t help those, either—but she was keeping him at a distance and he wasn’t sure why.
There were the obvious reasons, of course. They were work colleagues. They were in a small village where gossip ran rife, and neither of them needed to be the main topic on the Atlee Wold grapevine.
But he sensed there was something more and he couldn’t quite grasp it.
Was she being the sensible one? Last night had been amazing, and even though he felt guilty about taking advantage it hadn’t stopped him craving her touch once again. They’d shared a lingering kiss, but she’d been quick to say they were both adults, that she wasn’t his type, that she would never marry, and that he was after some sort of traditional wife.
Why did she always bring it back to that? As if a woman being a wife and mother were the only things that mattered to him?
Because it wasn’t just that. Maybe he’d once thought so, but Rachel had changed all that. Having an abortion without telling him she’d even been pregnant, and then walking out on him without giving him a chance to say goodbye or even discuss why they were breaking up.
It had caused him to rethink life. And, yes, he’d been playing it safe—because by doing that he’d thought he could control the outcome. If he went out with someone who was a safe option then he wouldn’t get hurt.
That was the basics of it.
He didn’t want the pain he’d experienced before. He didn’t want the agony of that.
And Lula wasn’t a safe option. She was her own person—bright, funny, a risk-taker, a challenger of the norms, someone who’d made no promises to stay.
But Lula also had a way of changing the world. Even his dad had said so.
She loo
ked down at herself, removing the coin-edged skirt that had been moulding the soft curve of her bottom, letting loose the floaty fabric that caressed the length of her legs.
‘No—sorry. Can I pop upstairs to get changed? I didn’t get time at the hall.’
‘Of course.’
Patrick led her upstairs to show her where to get changed and Olly watched them go, jealous of how his dad’s hand rested so easily—unthinkingly—in the small of Lula’s back.
Jealous? He blinked the feeling away and concentrated on preparing the gravy for the meal. Why was he jealous? That was his father, for crying out loud! Lula hadn’t committed to Olly, had she? It was her quintessential spirit of being free and life-affirming that intrigued him. She had no roots. Well, not yet. She might find some tomorrow, if Elizabeth Love was the woman she was looking for.
And what then? Surely if Elizabeth was Lula’s mother then Lula would stay in Atlee Wold? And if she stayed there’d be a chance for him to be with her?
But what if Elizabeth wasn’t her mother? Would Lula stay?
He endeavoured to ask her at some point. Maybe when his father left later and they were alone together.
Lula came downstairs wearing gorgeous tight black jeans and an off-the-shoulder red top. He tried not to look at the delicate dip where her neck met her chest, or at the long, slow curve of her collarbone. She’d enjoyed him kissing her there…
He blinked and offered her a drink. She took an orange juice and sat at the table as he served up.
‘So, were there many at your class this evening?’ he asked.
She nodded. ‘Yes, I’m pleased to say. Three more people than last time.’
‘That’s good,’ Patrick interjected. ‘You’ve really aroused the spirit of the older generation in this village, Lula. You’re just what some people needed.’ He glanced at his son across the table. ‘A breath of fresh air.’
She smiled and thanked him for his compliment.
‘It’s true, my dear! Even my Oliver has perked up since your arrival. For a long time I thought the poor lad was going to end up just like me.’
Olly looked at his father. ‘What’s wrong with being like you?’
‘Nothing—if having a limited world is what you want. If Atlee Wold is to be the centre of your universe. There’s such a big world out there, son, and I’ve always wanted you to experience it.’
His Perfect Bride? Page 12