Springtime at the Cider Kitchen

by Fay Keenan

  ‘Caroline…’ Jonathan whispered, taking her hand and leaning in closer to her as she moved back down to eye level. Her mouth was treacherously close to his and, for a delicious second, they hovered on the edge of something. Caroline breathed and brought her lips to Jonathan’s.

  If Jonathan was surprised, he did an excellent job of hiding it. He kissed her back with initial gentleness, until they both increased the pressure and found themselves moving deeper, tasting deeper. Jonathan’s hand reached up to Caroline’s hair, running long fingers through her auburn bob and then down over her neck and her back. Caroline’s skin started to tingle. Memories of their night together washed back over her, awakening a throbbing sensation deep within. As Jonathan pulled her closer and they settled back against the leather sofa, Caroline felt a deep, instinctive sense of rightness. Of belonging. Of safety.

  A discreet cough from the direction of the kitchen made them both spring apart guiltily.

  ‘I’m, er, off now, Caroline,’ Gino’s voice called from the other room. Neither Caroline nor Jonathan could see him, but from the tone of his voice both were pretty sure he’d seen them.

  ‘OK,’ Caroline replied rather breathlessly. ‘See you tomorrow.’

  Caroline and Jonathan waited for the back door of the restaurant to open and close and then turned back to one another. Caroline burst out laughing. ‘I thought he’d gone an hour ago. Why do I feel like some naughty teenager caught in the act?’

  Jonathan laughed, too. ‘Tell me about it.’ He leaned in to kiss her again. ‘The question is,’ he said, between kisses, ‘do you want to carry on being that naughty teenager?’

  Caroline broke free from his insistent mouth and pulled back to look at him. ‘I don’t know,’ she said warily. ‘I swore I wasn’t going to do this.’

  ‘I’m in your hands, of course,’ Jonathan murmured. ‘But from where I’m sitting, we’re pretty much halfway there already.’ His tone was light, but there was no disputing the arousal in his voice and elsewhere. Caroline also couldn’t pretend that she wasn’t feeling that warm heaviness of desire, either. A pulse was beating between her thighs, low, insistent and needy.

  ‘My place, my rules,’ she said as she kissed him again. ‘Just like last time. No complications. And no discussion in the morning.’

  Jonathan didn’t need telling twice. Sweeping her up in his arms, he virtually bundled her up the mezzanine steps until they were at the door to Caroline’s flat. Pausing only to grab the key from the hook by the door, he pushed it open and slammed it behind them. Then, without missing a beat, he pulled her close and in a move worthy of James Bond slipped down the long, exposed silver zip at the back of her dress.

  ‘Every time I’ve seen you in that dress I’ve wanted to do that,’ Jonathan murmured as he started to kiss Caroline’s neck. ‘You’re so sexy, Caroline.’

  ‘You’re not so bad yourself,’ Caroline replied as she untucked Jonathan’s white shirt from his trousers. The prominent bulge in their flat front showed her exactly how aroused he was, and she couldn’t wait to strip him naked and feel him inside her. She didn’t care if it was going to lead to awkwardness in the morning; she just needed him.

  Time seemed to blur as they found themselves in bed, reliving their first night together, but discovering so much more. The apple brandy had lowered their inhibitions and Caroline’s tiredness ebbed away as her desire rose.

  Jonathan was long, lean and toned, and his body just seemed to fit hers; each touch bringing them pleasure. Caroline arched her back as Jonathan’s mouth explored her, kissing and caressing down her body, up her thighs and everywhere in between. The sight of his hair, tumbling carelessly over his brow and tickling her thighs, and the pressure of his lips and probing tongue was driving her towards a much needed orgasm, and the last thought she had before the throbbing, exquisite climax engulfed her was that this was completely and utterly right. Her thighs clenched convulsively as the heavy, beating sensations overtook her, and she rode the wave, running her fingers through Jonathan’s hair as she came.

  As soon as Caroline’s orgasm began to subside, and moving skilfully so that his fingertips were still caressing and stroking, Jonathan slid into her, warm, hard and beating with his own rhythm. His fingers kept stroking as he moved inside her, driving her on to another climax until his own orgasm exploded in a series of deep, ravishing thrusts. Pausing for an endless moment in the immediate afterglow, Jonathan’s eyes were locked on Caroline’s.

  ‘You’re wonderful,’ he said softly. ‘You’re really, really wonderful.’

  Caroline, who was still coming back down to earth and feeling the aftershocks of her orgasms, managed a breathless smile. ‘I bet you say that to all the girls.’

  Jonathan shook his head. ‘Nope. Just you.’ He buried his face in her shoulder and gently bit her collarbone. ‘But don’t tell anyone. They’d never believe you, anyway.’

  Caroline, trying to hide the fact that she was absurdly touched as well as completely sated, muttered, ‘no strings, remember.’

  Jonathan raised his head and smiled ruefully. ‘Understood. But I do mean it, you know.’

  Caroline said nothing. With everything that was going on, The Cider Kitchen, her new life, the shadows from her old life, she really couldn’t risk adding Jonathan to her long list of complications. Somewhere, from a quiet part of her mind, a small voice was suggesting that perhaps Jonathan wouldn’t be a complication; that he could, perhaps, help her to make sense of the other things, but she resolutely hushed that voice. Jonathan, no matter how good a lover he was, was not the answer. At least not in the long term. For the moment, though, she was more than happy to snuggle up next to him, sated, warm and more secure than she’d felt in a long time.

  30

  Caroline and Jonathan woke late the next morning. They’d slept together in a tangle of limbs, and as Caroline rolled over, a shaft of sunlight coming through the curtains illuminated the dial of the old fashioned alarm clock, complete with bell, that sat on her bedside table. She’d never trusted her phone to wake her but the shrill bell on a working day was usually enough to do the job. Although last night, of course, she’d forgotten to set it, having entirely too much on her mind, and in her bed, to bother.

  ‘Good morning,’ Jonathan said sleepily as she rolled back to him and snuggled under his arm. ‘Sleep well?’

  ‘Better than I have in ages,’ Caroline replied. ‘You.’

  ‘Same.’

  For a little while they lay entwined, enjoying the closeness. Caroline felt completely at peace and though there were still clouds on her horizon, she felt insulated from them for now at least, by Jonathan’s presence.

  Eventually, though, she had to get up. Not least because she was thirsty and needed a wee. Unselfconsciously naked, she swung her legs out of bed and reached for Jonathan’s white shirt, which had ended up pooled by her side of the bed. It came down almost to her knees. Doing up a couple of buttons, she glanced back at Jonathan. ‘Coffee?’

  ‘Oh Christ, yes,’ Jonathan replied. ‘Just how much of that calvados did we finish last night? My head’s pounding.’

  ‘Enough,’ Caroline said dryly. She had visions of her rather more elderly customers dancing on the tables if it ever went permanently on the drinks menu.

  After nipping into the bathroom, Caroline padded down the stairs to the restaurant. She took two coffee cups from the sideboard and set to making the strongest coffee she could. While she was waiting, she poured herself a glass of water and then another for Jonathan. Heading back up the stairs, she put the coffee and water down on the bedside table, but before she could drink it, Jonathan had pulled her back on top of him and was skilfully unbuttoning the shirt. ‘Forget the coffee,’ he said huskily. ‘I can think of a much better cure for a hangover.’

  Vaguely aware that her staff would be coming in soon to prepare for the lunchtime service, Caroline’s last thought before surrendering to Jonathan’s hands, mouth and other things once more was to wonder
whether or not she’d dropped the latch on the Yale lock. If Gino or Emma, or heaven forbid, Meredith, caught the two of them like this, they’d never live it down.

  By the time Caroline had finally kicked Jonathan out of bed, it was coming up to eleven o’clock. As they came down the stairs together, Caroline could hear Gino chopping something in the kitchen and the low undertone of the local radio station that he listened to while he was preparing.

  ‘Ssh,’ Caroline said as she showed Jonathan to the door.

  Jonathan looked quizzical. ‘Why? We’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.’

  ‘You might not have, but I’d rather not be catalogued as one of your conquests,’ Caroline said.

  ‘The only one that matters,’ Jonathan said, all seriousness. ‘Call me. When you’re ready.’

  Closing the front door on him, Caroline smiled to herself. She couldn’t quite believe she’d given in and slept with Jonathan again, but she was certainly pleased she had. She had a feeling, though, that she was going to have to seek some advice from Anna about how to handle the fallout from a night with Jonathan; hopefully, her former sister-in-law might have some answers that would stop her from getting hurt.

  *

  The conversation with Anna would have to wait, though. Caroline had forgotten that she’d agreed to meet a supplier of free range, corn fed, totally organic poultry at twelve o’clock. Fortunately, the meeting was as brief as it was productive, and, somehow, she got through the lunchtime service, trying not to allow her thoughts to wander too far in the direction of the other end of the cider farm. She felt as though she had Jonathan’s initials branded on her forehead, though, and she was increasingly paranoid that everyone she spoke to would know what she’d been up to. In reality, it was only Gino who had seen them and he wasn’t a gossip, but Caroline still felt different; changed by the night. She’d let down her defences for the first time in a long while. A one night stand at the wedding had been one thing, but Jonathan was, quite literally, on her doorstep now. How the hell was she going to deal with him, and more interestingly, what was it exactly that she wanted from him?

  After a brief break in the afternoon, which she’d spent playing with the cats and drinking rather too much coffee, Caroline had prepared for the evening service, putting on the same dress she’d worn on The Cider Kitchen’s opening night. She cursed herself for choosing it, realising that her prime motive was that Jonathan might see her in it but by six o’clock it was too late to change.

  It was a busy evening, and Caroline was grateful. It stopped her thoughts from wandering too far across the orchard to Jonathan. About halfway through service, Caroline was closing the tab for one of her regular couples, early diners who liked to pop in early and then get back home to watch Midsomer Murders or Death in Paradise, when she suddenly became aware of a heavy, cloying, frighteningly familiar scent. As she tapped the digits of the bill into the card reader, her fingers started to tremble and the hair rose at the back of her neck. It was a scent she recognised, a scent she couldn’t fail to react to, and a scent she hoped she’d never experience again.

  Forcing a smile at the customers, she handed back their credit card and then steeled herself. Gripping hold of the counter for support, she blinked furiously, praying she was seeing things.

  But no.

  Not this time.

  There, being settled onto a table in a quiet corner of the restaurant was the one person she’d prayed she’d never see again. Since she’d last seen him, he’d changed little; he had an air of confidence about him like Jonathan, but where she found Jonathan’s manner attractive, this man’s had always been unsettling, combative. His close cropped dark hair was showing some signs of greying, and the brown leather jacket and black jeans he was wearing looked obviously expensive. Given that he had a rather lucrative sideline in addition to his actual job, the clothing went with the territory.

  Gripped with dread, Caroline watched as the man smiled winningly up at Meredith, who’d been assigned to that area of the restaurant this evening. Caroline could see Meredith nodding and making a few recommendations before she pulled out her notepad and took his order. As Meredith moved away towards the kitchen, Caroline forced out the breath she’d been holding and tried to keep calm. The sight of him here, on her turf, talking to Anna’s stepdaughter and Jonathan’s niece filled her with horror. It would seem the note and the text had been somewhat more than a warning. The question was, of what?

  Crossing the floor of the restaurant to the kitchen, Caroline wished she could run out of the back door and never return, but she had to stay professional. There were other customers besides him, and as she scanned the restaurant, all the while keeping him in sight, she felt reassured that there were enough people around for him not to be an immediate threat.

  ‘You all right, Boss?’ Gino asked as Caroline leant on the doorway of the kitchen for support. ‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’

  Caroline shook her head hurriedly. ‘I’m fine. Have you got table six’s order up?’

  Gino nodded. ‘Meredith just brought it in. Is there a change?’

  ‘No. Just wanted to check something.’ Caroline pulled the order slip off the counter warmer and scanned Meredith’s generous, looped handwriting. The customer had made some medium priced choices and also ordered a half bottle of the house red wine. Clearly he wasn’t minded to splash much cash on this visit. She remembered how he’d footed the bill for bottles of Dom Perignon on their company nights out; but then, she figured, he was the one who handled the champagne suppliers for the events management company they’d both worked for. Did he think she was up for more of his other ‘merchandise’? The kind that he’d sent her a sample of along with that note? Well, he could think again. That was one product she was happy to leave in her past.

  For the rest of the evening service Caroline tried to keep as low a profile as possible; not easy when she was becoming well known to her regular diners. She kept a careful eye on the unwelcome guest, who seemed, on the surface, to be acting like any other diner. Just as the restaurant was starting to empty and get ready to close, Meredith came up to her.

  ‘The man on table six has asked to see you,’ she said.

  Caroline’s heart lurched. She swallowed hard. ‘OK. Tell him I’ll be over as soon as I’ve closed out Mr and Mrs Cooper’s bill.’

  ‘I’ll do that if you like,’ Meredith said. ‘They were on one of my tables, so I’ll sort it.’

  Caroline inwardly cursed Meredith’s helpful nature. She forced a smile. ‘Thanks.’ Knees trembling under her dress, she raised her head high and walked over to table six where the customer was finishing his coffee. As she approached, he put his espresso cup down on the saucer and raised his eyes. The gaze he gave her was cool, assessing, and ever so slightly amused.

  ‘Hello, Caroline.’

  The voice was carefully accent neutral. Just as it had ever been. He never liked to give anything away about himself. She still didn’t know where he really came from, although at times she’d have willingly believed he’d originated from the depths of hell.

  Caroline nodded. ‘Hello, Paul.’ Her voice, admirably steady, gave nothing away of her churning stomach. Mindful of her remaining customers, she forced a smile. ‘Did you enjoy your meal?’

  ‘It was lovely. As was that little waitress who was serving me.’ Paul Stone’s eyes narrowed. ‘Unusual name, Meredith. Not many about.’

  Caroline’s hackles rose. She was all too familiar with Stone’s way of casually assessing women and she felt particularly protective of Meredith. ‘She’s a good waitress,’ she said guardedly.

  ‘Well connected, too,’ Stone said. ‘I understand her daddy owns the building we’re sitting in. Must be worth a bob or two. And with that accent, I’d assume she’s privately educated. Lots of… wealthy connections.’

  Caroline blinked. ‘As I said, she’s a good waitress. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got other customers to attend to.’

  ‘Aren’t you goin
g to ask?’ Stone said as Caroline turned away.

  ‘Ask what?’

  ‘What brings me to this part of the world?’

  ‘To be honest, Paul, I’m not interested.’ Caroline said, turning back and locking eyes with him. With the presence of her staff and the remaining customers, she felt confident enough to be assertive.

  Stone gave a nasty grin. ‘You will be,’ he said. ‘If I know you.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’ She shook her head. ‘I’ll get Meredith to bring over your bill. I assume you’ve had all you want?’

  ‘For now,’ Stone replied. ‘I’ll see you soon, Caro.’

  Caroline winced. No one else had ever shortened her name, and to her ears, in this new life, it felt as though he was addressing a different person. ‘Don’t count on it,’ she muttered as she walked away. Shortly afterwards, she saw Meredith handing him back his card and receipt. She breathed a sigh of relief as he left The Cider Kitchen without a backward glance.

  She got through the rest of the evening on autopilot, counting the takings for the evening service and securing them in the safe before double and triple checking she’d locked both the safe and the front and back doors of the building. With Paul Stone in the area, she couldn’t be too careful. By the time she’d finished checking for the third time, it was well past midnight and she was absolutely shattered. Gino had stayed late, sensing that Caroline was distracted, but she’d sent him on his way half an hour previously, albeit reluctantly.

  Just as she was about to turn in, her mobile phone buzzed from the counter where she’d left it. Heart in her mouth, she considered ignoring it, but she knew if she didn’t check who’d messaged her she’d be lying awake all night wondering. Crossing the restaurant and picking up her phone, she swiped the screen and steeled herself.

  Hope your day went OK. Can I come over? J x