Dating Mr. December

by Phillipa Ashley

  The rope snapped and Will let himself fall into oblivion with her.

  ***

  It was too warm in Will’s bed.

  The morning sun was slanting through the windows, dappling the bed with bright patches of heat and light. Will’s naked body was hot and sticky against hers and Emma would have thrown back the cotton sheet that was covering them except she didn’t want to wake him. Not yet. She wanted to stay like this for as long as possible and put off the moment when she had to leave his bed and go home. Maybe he planned to let her down gently but firmly. Somehow, she knew that’s how he’d do it.

  But not yet, she thought, please not yet.

  As she shifted slightly in his embrace, his arm tightened around her in a gesture of possession and protection that made her stomach flip. She tensed, still feeling the effects of a night of lovemaking after so many months on her own.

  Will had taken her beyond everything she’d ever known. Again and again during the long, warm night, tender but insistent, devouring every last ounce of her. The last time, he’d sat braced upright against the oak backboard of his bed. He’d guided her onto him as he stretched her to the limit and brought her to a shuddering climax that left her wrecked and limp in his arms.

  Now her cheek was resting on his bare chest, sensing the soft rise and fall as he slept. She knew him now. Knew all the little scars on his body from every misadventure. The big one on his knee from a bad climbing fall. And now she knew where the trail of hair that she’d spent so long admiring, ended.

  It cried out to be explored, right now, with her mouth. He had his eyes closed as she traced a moist path that led from his nipples, down his chest, and over his stomach. As she reached his navel, she felt his body quiver. ‘Are you awake?’ she mumbled from under the sheet. His reply was barely audible and very shaky. ‘No, sweetheart… still asleep, and I hope I don’t have to wake up any time soon.’

  ***

  Some time later, Emma took a look at the clock on Will’s bedside table. It was mid-morning and the sun was slanting, hot and bright into the room. Swinging his legs out of bed, he started to pull on a pair of jeans. Even from the pillow she could see the red nail marks on his back and buttocks and let out a little cry of guilt and embarrassment: ‘I’m sorry…’

  ‘I’m not,’ he replied, knowing what she meant without turning round or asking. He zipped up his jeans gingerly and sat on the bed next to her. ‘Wildcat.’

  ‘Don’t tease me,’ she pleaded, covering her face with her hands.

  ‘I consider it to be my role in life,’ he replied, wrapping a tendril of glossy hair around his finger. She hoisted the sheet above her breasts, suddenly embarrassed by her nakedness. ‘And mine is to be another notch on your bedpost,’ she ventured.

  ‘Make that four, sweetheart.’

  ‘And is that it?’ she asked simply, her heart thudding in her chest. ‘Just notches on the bedpost?’

  He looked at her strangely and for a moment, she thought she’d shattered the intimacy between them. Then, suddenly, he pulled the sheet off her. ‘Come on. Get up. I want to show you something.’

  ‘Where’s my dress?’ she asked as she climbed out of bed. ‘I haven’t brought anything else to wear. You didn’t tell me I wouldn’t be going home.’

  He caught up his discarded shirt from the floor and draped it around her shoulders. ‘Put this on,’ he said and she slipped her arms into the sleeves and rolled them up. She left the top buttons open, to let the morning air cool her hot skin. The tails brushed the top of her thighs.

  ‘Perfect,’ nodded Will, feeling the effect as his jeans tightened around him. ‘You are absolutely perfect.’

  ‘What about my underwear?’ she asked innocently.

  He bent down and picked up the scrap of lace still lying in front of the mirror. ‘You mean this? I’d hardly call it an item of clothing.’

  ‘Do you disapprove?’

  ‘Come on outside before I show you just how much I approve.’

  Emma took her lacy thong from his hand and put it on, trying to smooth down the shirt tails as far as she could. ‘What if someone sees us?’

  He held out his hand. ‘They won’t. There are eight acres of grounds around us. No nosy neighbors—unless someone has binoculars on us from a yacht.’

  She let him lead her down the staircase into the hall and into the kitchen with its farmhouse table and range cooker. ‘I’ll make us breakfast when I’ve shown you this,’ he offered, guiding her into a small boot room, from where a door opened into the garden. He ushered her outside.

  Chapter 11

  Emma had never been anywhere quite like it before. It was simply breathtaking. The broad stone terrace she was standing on overlooked lawns surrounded by shrubs and woodland. At the end of the lawns was the lake, sunlight dancing off the wavelets, the jetty he had carried her along pointing out into the shimmering water.

  ‘Oh…’

  ‘Like it?’ he asked, almost hesitantly, and then he smiled as she squeezed his hand. ‘This way,’ he said, stepping down on to the lawn. ‘You’ll be OK on the grass without shoes.’ The cool dew tickled her toes as she padded over the springy turf down to the lake. They halted where a small stream flowed out into the dark water. ‘Here,’ he said, ducking under the overhanging branch of a willow tree.

  Reaching into his pocket he took out a pen-knife and handed it to her. This easy familiarity was not what she’d expected… but so very much what she’d longed for.

  Now she hoped she would be wrong about him again. That this hadn’t been just another one-night stand. That she would find out why he’d treated Kate so cruelly. That he had a reason she could forgive and might be ready to let another woman into his life.

  Her.

  She cradled the knife in her hand, then gazed at him expectantly. ‘What am I supposed to do with this?’ she laughed. ‘Learn bush craft? Build a fire?’

  ‘Carve your notches on the tree.’ He smiled. ‘Four. And your initials.’

  ‘You can’t be serious.’

  A smile spread over his face. ‘Deadly.’

  ‘I… I… don’t know if I can.’

  ‘Just do it,’ he urged, taking the knife. ‘Here.’ He flattened his palm against the bole of the tree. ‘I’ll make the first notch.’ He flicked open the blade and scored a mark firmly in the bark before handing the knife back to her. ‘Go on.’

  It was trickier than she thought. She had to press deeply to make a mark and it took longer than she’d expected to do all four. She stepped back and giggled, seeing the grooves and knowing what each one stood for.

  ‘Now your initials,’ he ordered, ‘and before you say it, I know what they’ll be.’

  ‘No way,’ she cried. ‘I’ll put my middle name too. That won’t look so silly.’

  She found the initials were even more difficult. They were hardly recognizable but at least she’d tried: EAT. Emma Anne Tremayne. There, she’d done it. She took a step back, satisfied. ‘Is that all right?’

  All this time, Will waited patiently, offering the odd word of encouragement.

  ‘Perfect, actually.’ He grinned, getting a smack on the arm for his nerve. ‘Now it’s my turn,’ he said, retrieving the pen-knife and quickly scoring three letters. ‘There… W… M… T.’

  ‘What does the M stand for?’ she asked.

  ‘Ah. Now that I’m not telling you.’

  ‘Why not?’ she teased, high on the happiness of the moment. ‘It can’t be that bad—is it an old family name like Montgomery?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Marmaduke…’

  ‘Of course not,’ he replied, sounding insulted, while his eyes sparkled with laughter. He began to stride quickly up the grass slope back to the terrace.

  ‘Mabel!’ she called after him as he closed rapidly on the house.

  ‘Now you’re being silly.’

  Emma had to run to catch him, her feet sinking into the damp turf. ‘Will—wait!’ she cried, grabbing his arm. She wa
s a little out of breath. ‘I want to ask you something.’

  ‘I won’t tell you my name,’ he declared, catching her in his arms and kissing her. ‘No matter what you try.’

  ‘It’s not that… it’s more important than that,’ she said, eager to seize the moment. That pulled him up, he looked—she wasn’t sure what—caught off-balance? She decided to take a chance.

  ‘Go ahead, sweetheart. Ask me anything.’

  ‘It’s Lakeshore House.’

  There it was in his eyes, Emma knew she hadn’t been mistaken. There was a definite look of relief and a slumping of the shoulders as if he’d been expecting something else.

  ‘Lakeshore House?’ he echoed.

  ‘Yes—big hotel by the water. You know very well what I mean.’

  ‘I can’t seem to recall the place,’ he puzzled, rubbing his still-unshaven chin.

  ‘Don’t be so annoying. Of course you do. You were outside it in the Range Rover when you gave me a lift to the Wordsworth Center. After you’d patronized me for ten minutes, of course.’

  ‘Oh that. Now I remember. You weren’t very nice to me, Emma, and you had a tight jacket on. A tight skirt too. Your bottom looked sensational in it.’

  ‘Stop it,’ she ordered, her face reddening. ‘This is serious. I need to know. You’re buying it, aren’t you?’

  ‘Maybe,’ he conceded.

  ‘To turn into second homes—expand your empire. You’ll make a fortune.’

  ‘Maybe,’ he repeated. ‘Maybe not. If I get it.’ He paused on the terrace. ‘Emma, are you really interested in my empire, as you call it, or is this conversation leading somewhere else? Conversations often do with you.’ He sat down on a wrought-iron bench and pulled her on to his lap. ‘In fact, I wish you’d come right out and ask what you really want.’

  If I thought you would give me a straight answer, I would, she reflected. If I knew you wouldn’t run away, I’d ask you everything I want to know. Despite sharing his bed, understanding his body as intimately as her own, she didn’t really know him at all.

  Her arms encircled his neck as she carried on, ‘I—just wondered why you need to make even more money because—you don’t really need to, do you?’

  ‘Emma…’

  She heard the warning in his voice but pressed on. No going back now.

  ‘Because I’m no fool, Will. I know how much this house is worth. I mean it’s amazing. Beautiful. But you already own a big company… and if you’re buying a hotel…’

  ‘Where is all this going? I don’t want to talk about business right now—and neither do you, sweetheart.’

  ‘It’s not about business. It’s about you—and me. My ideas, anyway.’ She kissed him gently to stifle any objection. ‘You don’t think we need to raise any funds for the calendar, do you, Will? That’s why you’re so against it… why you wanted to sponsor it? Because, let’s be honest here, you could have paid for a new base all by yourself. Couldn’t you?’ He started to protest but she stilled his lips with a finger.

  After a moment’s silence, he said again, quietly, ‘Possibly.’

  ‘I don’t believe you. In fact, I think you have already paid for some of it—maybe almost all of it. I’ve seen the target for the fundraising and even I know it’s not nearly enough.’

  She saw that he wasn’t smiling any more but he didn’t look angry. He stroked her thigh thoughtfully so she tried again, ‘It’s time for you to be honest with me, Will.’

  ‘What, about the base or the hotel?’

  ‘Both, preferably.’

  He sucked in his breath. ‘OK. The hotel. If—and it’s a big if—I do get it, I want to turn it into an outdoor center for inner city kids. A place where they can have a go at climbing, canoeing, rappelling—all the kind of stuff that makes life worth living. Especially rappelling…’

  She refused to be goaded by this, or sidetracked. Not now he’d started. Besides, she’d never been so happy to be wrong about someone. ‘So not a luxury second home development that will make you a fortune?’

  ‘Not unless people want to share their exclusive apartment with fifty unruly kids having a great time thinking they’re doing dangerous stuff.’ He smiled. ‘Safely, of course.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’

  ‘You seemed to have made your mind up already.’

  Emma didn’t want to have to agree with him, but for once, he was right. She recalled their earlier conversations in the car and in her office. He hadn’t helped, though, by being so defensive. Now, however, he was smiling at her and gently stroking her bare leg. Those days, their first sparring matches, seemed so far away.

  ‘Anyway, I’m telling you about my plans now,’ Will went on. ‘But don’t get too excited,’ he cautioned, one big, warm hand half-circling her thigh. ‘It may never happen. There are other big developers interested too. A fantastic old place like that right on the lake would, indeed, make some very swish apartments and make someone a very nice profit. Whatever you think, my pockets aren’t that deep.’

  He shifted her in his lap so that she fitted more perfectly against his hardness inside his jeans.

  ‘Does that set your mind at rest? Not only am I hot as hell in bed, I’m public-spirited too. Now, is there anything else you want to know about me? Childhood illnesses? Criminal convictions? Favorite position for making love to you? But hey—you already know that…’

  ‘Not yet,’ she added softly, tracing a fingertip over his chest and refusing to be diverted. ‘I’m still not absolutely sure… and you still haven’t told me if you paid for the base.’

  ‘Now that will have to remain my secret, I’m afraid. As for positions, I think it’s high time you did some more research.’ He smiled. ‘Let’s go inside. I can see you’re getting cold.’ He checked his watch. ‘Then I’ve got to have a shower—I’ve got a lunch meeting shortly.’

  Emma’s face fell. Was this the signal she’d been dreading? The hint? She forced her question to sound casual. ‘A meeting on a Sunday?’ Her smile fell short of her eyes but he was no fool.

  ‘It’s Max and Francine.’ He smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘Architect friend of mine—pregnant French wife. I think you might have met him that day at the Wordsworth Center.’

  ‘The one with the Porsche? Goatee and pink shirt?’

  ‘That’s Max. We went to school together—he never changes—always had to have the latest football boots and gadgets.’ He shook his head, laughter lighting his dark eyes. ‘The two of us need to sort out some very boring legal issues before the planning meeting on Monday morning. I wouldn’t have arranged it but you see, sweetheart, I never expected you to stay over. I hoped, was desperate in fact, but I didn’t assume.’

  Emma narrowed her eyes at him. Did she believe him? Probably not.

  ‘However,’ he added in a serious tone, ‘before I give you a lift home, there’s still time for you to join me in the shower. Do you have any experience of Edwardian plumbing?’

  ‘No—but I really need to brush up on my history,’ she answered, squealing in indignation as he tried to undo the remaining buttons of her shirt.

  As they walked back to the house, even Will’s evasiveness couldn’t stop her heart from soaring. He stopped again in the boot room and pushed her against the wall to give her a long, deep French kiss that made her reel with pleasure. Then he tugged her by the hand, giggling, through the door into the kitchen, insisting she share a shower with him. She flinched as her feet touched the cold kitchen tiles and stopped.

  He seemed so relaxed, so happy, that Emma wondered if now was the time. Should she tell him about her job offer and see what he had to say? What his reaction would be? Should she ask him what she really wanted to know. About… Kate?

  He leaned against the kitchen table, pulled her to him, held her between his legs. Standing here like—like they’d known each other for years, wearing his shirt, in his kitchen, Emma felt the intimacy drugging her. It was like a warm tide flowing throu
gh her, an emotional muscle relaxant that sucked away caution, leaving her boneless. She dared to do anything at this moment. To challenge him, to see what she really meant to him.

  She loved him.

  He must know that now. He must feel it emanating from every pore of her body. Everything felt so right, so easy, she felt that nothing could go wrong, not this time…

  ‘Emma. What’s the matter? You’ve gone quiet, sweetheart. That’s not like you,’ he said.

  It didn’t raise a smile.

  ‘Oh—it’s—it’s…’

  His scrutiny was intense as he reached up and pulled a willow leaf from her hair. Emma stepped over the edge and took the biggest risk of her life.

  ‘Will, I haven’t been entirely straight with you. When I said there was something I wanted to know—there’s something I have to tell you.’

  ‘This sounds ominous.’ Yet still, he was smiling. He didn’t expect anything serious.

  ‘It well—it’s not—it’s just…’

  He stroked her hair.

  ‘Yesterday afternoon before you came—I had an email.’

  ‘Hmmm…’

  ‘From Echo GPS. You must know them.’

  ‘Of course, I’ve got their kit in all my shops.’

  ‘Well, they are the ones who’ve agreed to sponsor the calendar.’

  The relief on his face this time was tangible. He laughed out loud.

  ‘And you thought I’d be angry… put out after you’d rejected my offer.’ He stroked her cheek and kissed her hair. ‘I’m not that petty, Emma. You did well to get money out of Echo. They drive a hard bargain.’

  There was no going back now. It all came out, like a beck in spate.

  ‘That’s not it. Not all, I mean. Will, they’ve offered me a job.’

  Still standing between his thighs, she felt his body grow tense as her stomach began to churn.

  ‘Not here, I take it.’

  ‘No. Not in Bannerdale. In London. As their director of communications. It’s lots more money, a high profile, fast car.’