“Night, my love. I’ll see you on Thursday.” He leaned in again, chest brushing breasts, and kissed her until her mouth opened and allowed him to slip his tongue inside. A moan escaped from her as he deepened the kiss, feeling her nipples peak and his body respond in return. This was not good for the state of his mind, let alone for the state of his cock. He didn’t need Tessa Willows to foresee a cold shower appearing in his near future. Reluctantly, he ended the kiss, pleased to see Vairi’s eyes clouded with desire. It was satisfying to know he affected her as much as she affected him. “I’ll wait until I hear the door lock, and I won’t drive away until your bedroom light goes on.”
“Peeping Tom? No chance. I shut my curtains.” She closed the door in his face.
He was chuckling as he reached the car, noting Vairi hadn’t mentioned he’d changed his mode of travel. He’d decided the bike stood less of a chance to take her home, so he’d chosen to use his car instead. With hindsight, he was pleased he’d done so. The feeling of Vairi pressed hard against him and knowing there would be nothing else offered would have been excruciating. As it was, her scent permeated his senses and the memory of her long, elegant legs caressed by her flirty skirt, teasing him, was enough to make him uncomfortably aroused. He drove off, conscious of his rock-hard cock pushing at its confining denim—and even more conscious of the lack of opportunity to help it out.
His phone was vibrating as he drew up in the parking compound. He stopped the engine, removed the key, got out and locked the car before checking the text.
Not such a jerk!
Thanks. No answer to that. Before he had formatted a return text, his phone signaled another one.
So glad you were able to come.
He could certainly answer that.
I’ll come for you anytime. Definitely not a jerk anymore.
Finally, as he reached his trailer, the next text appeared.
Good. Glad to hear it. So nice when you come for me. Hope you have a good night’s sleep.
She certainly knew how to try to have the last word. This time, he would let her. After locking the door, he undressed and got into bed, to sleep and dream before waking up refreshed.
* * * *
Sunday, his last day with the fair, passed quietly. It was always a wrench to leave. The fair was ingrained in him, the memories of the child strengthened with the more recent memories of the adult. But he was honest enough to admit that there was not a sufficient challenge to keep him. He needed the cut and thrust of the rest of his life. How he would cope when that half ceased to exist remained to be seen. Raig was confident his world would be fuller, brighter, especially if Vairi was prepared to become part of it. Without her, its brilliance would be diminished. However, he reasoned, the change was well overdue. It was something he had been fighting.
He left the site early on Monday morning. With most of the fair having departed for the next venue, only Jonny and Phil were around to see him go, the way he liked it. By lunchtime he was home, had parked his trailer in his extensive drive, and driven the car then the bike into the garage. With a special hitch on his trailer he’d been able to move everything in one go. Exhausting, a slow drive, but oh, so worth it.
Now, he was revved up and ready to go headfirst into his meetings. By two p.m., immaculate in a dark gray suit, crisp white shirt and striped tie, he was in his office, dictating rapidly with one eye on the clock. As far as he was concerned, the time spent inside that stuffy room was a necessary evil—the time he was going to spend in another office later on was purely necessary.
“Right,” he said finally. “That’s it. I’ll be back in the morning.” He smiled at his P.A., a balding, middle-aged Scot called, of all things, Alberto MacInnes. “And, Berto? Thanks for holding the fort.”
He remembered Alberto’s, ‘Och, you’re welcome, it wasnae problem’, as he drove across town to his next meeting, the important one of the day. Nothing seemed to faze Berto, not even his boss disappearing for weeks at a time with only an odd email for contact. He made a mental note to up his salary. Without Berto he wouldn’t be as easy in his mind about the problems that were sure to follow.
Raig parked his car, took up a briefcase and, after locking up, walked briskly toward an anonymous brick office block, looking like any one of a million white-collar workers on their way to yet another meeting. He entered the foyer, then made his way up the stairs to an office marked simply O’Shea Enterprises.
Kenny was waiting for him, a pot of coffee steaming away at the side of the room. He poured a mug and handed it over. Raig nodded his thanks.
“Cheers. Right, where are we at?”
Kenny half smiled. “In a hurry, are we?”
He nodded. “Are we ever, Kenny. This goes out on Thursday, no excuses. Where do I start?”
“Understood, Raig. Okay, so, we’ll start like this…”
Raig listened intently, occasionally questioning or disagreeing with something he was told. At one point he thumped the table.
“No. No, no, no. Definitely not. No way. It finishes today. Tomorrow at the latest. Michael Dooley is finished. Not let off to resurrect himself later. He is done. Nothing less is an acceptable outcome. My future life is contingent on that.”
Kenny sighed and relented. “Fine, fine. Let’s get started then. Are you ready for a late night?”
In reply, Raig pulled off his tie, dropping it on top of his already discarded jacket, and loosened the top two buttons of his shirt. “Let’s get on with it,” he answered tersely. “Secure it so tightly no one can undo it.”
If there was ever anyone any good at tying things in knots, it was Kenny. Raig felt like an amateur compared to him. A happy amateur, as a couple of hours later he ran through what still had to be done.
“That works,” he finally said as Kenny indicated they had done all they could for the day. “You’re ace. Tomorrow?”
“Eight a.m.,” Kenny confirmed. “Be ready for the shit to hit the fan and the ruckus to start. Watch your back.”
Raig had no worries on that score—that was a certainty. “No problem. See you at eight.” He left the building and checked his car via his remote security option, feeling stupid as he did but knowing it made sense. As he drove home, the reality suddenly hit him. If he didn’t get this sorted, he virtually could say ‘bye-bye, Vairi’. That was not an option.
Without warning, the need to hear her voice hit him hard and violently. To such a degree the car swerved as his heart jolted. Then he wondered if his lack of concentration was the only reason he had swerved.
Had he been found out? Was the swerve not due to his bad driving, but a bullet in a tire? Defective brake pads? Something even more sinister?
Get a grip, Raig, he told himself, willing his heart rate to slow and his adrenaline to decrease. If no one has sussed out the connection between you and Michael Dooley by now, how likely is it to happen just days before that connection is severed forever? You’re not playing the leading role in a thriller, tension on overload, designed to grab the reader by the throat and keep them interested. This is your life. He remembered a TV show of his youth. Without Eamonn Andrews, Michael Aspel or whoever standing nearby with a big red book.
It was oh-so-easy to say, less easy to accept. By the time he got home and used the remote to open then secure the gates after him, he had a neck ache from all the swiveling from side to side he’d done. To say nothing of an even greater need to hear Vairi’s voice.
Chapter Fourteen
Raig walked into the house, already trying to connect to her mobile number. Sod the ‘I’m going to be noble and not contact her’ bit. He needed to hear her voice like a man in the desert needed water. What were the odds she wouldn’t answer?
Luckily he didn’t need them. He’d hardy pressed Call before his phone was answered. “Raig? Are you okay?” She sounded breathless, worried.
“Missing you. Why? What’s wrong?”
He heard her sigh. “You tell me. Honestly, Raig, I’m the last pers
on to believe in feelings and all that stuff, but a few minutes ago I felt, well, weird, and thought I had to ring you. I was just trying to connect when you rang me. Spooky or what?” She forced a laugh. He didn’t think she managed it very well.
“Not spooky,” he assured her. “It shows how connected we are.” Dare he tell her it seemed they had experienced the need simultaneously? Maybe not. He had an idea that would be one step too far for her.
“Where are you, Raig?” She sounded hesitant, as if she had no right to ask. He felt a rush of anger directed at himself. For fuck’s sake, Raig, this is the woman you profess to love, and she’s worried to even ask that? Not good.
“I’m at home,” he replied. “Just got in after meetings, meetings and more meetings.” There was silence. He ran through what he had said in his mind. Shit. That could be in Timbuktu as far as she knew. Economical with the truth? He was a joke. Tighter than a miser’s wallet. Quickly he named the town. “Took a couple of hours to get back, because I had the bike and stuff to tow. I live on a hill, I can see the sea. You’ll see when you visit.”
“Am I visiting then?” Not much emotion projected to him. His own fault.
“I hope you’ll do more than just visit, my love. I know I’ve a lot to explain, to ask you to understand.” His composure cracked. “Hell, Vairi, if you don’t understand, I don’t know what I’ll do. Thursday is so important, you wouldn’t believe. When I pick you up, will you come here with me? Let me explain it all here? Please?”
Her breathing was loud in the room.
“Why Thursday? Why not now?”
Was that pleading he heard?
“Ah, love. I so wish I could. But please, I am asking for your faith and trust.” He paused, feeling his way with care. “Do I ever know how much I’m asking of you, but a chuisle”—he used the endearment on purpose—“I love you. I’m trying to make sure we can have a safe life, full of trust and love. It’s to be hoped that on Thursday, I’ll be able to offer you it.”
“Safe? As in boring? Or as in not dangerous?”
Right, Raig, your chance to show this famous trust you think you are giving to her. “The latter, love. To keep us safe and not be at risk of harm, I’m asking for you to keep faith in me.”
“Until Thursday?” she asked finally. “Really?”
“Really, mind you, I’m hoping you’ll have faith in me a long while after that as well.” There was humor in his voice, humor he intended her to hear. He decided to push his luck. “I’m hoping I’ll have a lot more than faith in you, my love. You know, my—”
“I get the picture.” There was laughter in her voice, and it gave him hope. “Think higher thoughts, Rake.”
“Oh, I do. Then I get to your breasts, that kissable mouth. Oh, my higher thoughts are just as erotic as my lower ones.”
This time there was a definite sigh down the phone. “So are mine. Oh, Raig.” She stopped. He willed her to carry on. “I’ll come,” she said finally. “With you. To your house.”
“As well as come with me. In my…” He paused, listened to her laugh. “House. Or anywhere else you fancy. I’m open to suggestions, love. So can I pick you up early? Go for lunch?”
“I guess you can.” To him, hopeful and impatient, he thought he heard love in the tone. Decided not to comment on how she spoke, but on what she spoke.
“Good, I’ll pick you up at noon. It will be a pleasure to show you my neck of the woods, show you—” He stopped suddenly, accepting he was getting ahead of himself. He’d been about to say, ‘Show you where we will live’. Hell, he didn’t even know if they would be in the same vicinity as each other at the end of the week, much less planning a life together. “My house.”
“Sounds good. Look, I’d better let you go.” Vairi sounded as reluctant as him to end the call. “Are you sure nothing is up?”
“Now I’ve spoken to you, something is very up. Sadly, it will have to be disappointed. Deflated even.” Her gurgle of laughter sent his body into overdrive. How on earth was he going to last until Thursday? He was not even going to entertain the thought that nothing might happen then or afterward. “Vairi My Queen, I can’t begin to tell you how much I love you. How much I want us to be together, a couple. I just hope”—he paused—“pray you will understand everything about why I’ve been less than open. Believe me, it’s been the hardest thing not to tell you everything, but until Thursday, I can’t. Even then, I guess there will be some things you won’t understand. I just have to hope our love will be strong enough to carry us through.”
The silence was so long he began to wonder if she had hung up. Finally, softly, she spoke. “So do I.”
How the hell was he going to sleep after that admission? Surprisingly well. He woke just after six a.m., refreshed and ready to face whatever was thrown at him. Just as well. Kenny was morose when they met up.
“Lost a pound and found a penny?” he asked him, using one of his gran’s favorite sayings for a long face.
Kenny grimaced. “Almost. The powers that be want Mickey D to carry on.”
“No way! No. Fucking. Way. Nada. Non. Niet. Nein. No! Comprenez?”
“I do. They don’t.”
“So?” He was incensed. “How are they going to succeed in that? My contract is up. Do they not remember that? Ended yesterday, fortuitously. And, Kenny, they needn’t think someone else can take over the role. Tell them to check the contract. Michael Dooley is dead. Well dead. Fuck, give me the phone. I’ll tell them.” He held out his hand.
Kenny shook his head. “I’m ahead of you. We have had the conversation, believe me. They are not happy. Mickey D hasn’t only done a good job, he’s increased ratings.” His tone was dry.
“Mickey D hasn’t only done a good job, he’s done such a good job he’s had death threats. Do they not accept that?” Raig’s tone was incredulous. “Fuck, Kenny, what planet are they on? Mickey D needs killing off. Disappearing forever. Sod the ratings. Life is more important than fucking ratings.”
Kenny held his hands up. “Hey, man, don’t shoot the messenger. I’m one of the good guys. I’ve put my neck on the line here. Told them it’s no-go. Michael Dooley is dead and buried. Up to them to believe it. Having said that, Thursday, nine p.m. is a go. Late change to listed program, et cetera.”
Raig inhaled. Exhaled slowly, calming himself with difficulty. It was oh-so hard to understand the morons who didn’t value a person’s safety. He did, and he would fight for it. Every time.
“Okay. So, what now?”
Kenny’s voice was gleeful. “Let’s go for it. Let’s put the nail in the coffin. The demise of Michael Dooley. R.I.P. End of.”
“With you there. Let’s do it.”
They did. They worked, argued and plotted.
Finally, both were satisfied. It has been, Raig thought, the most stressful eight hours of my life, and that’s saying something. Michael Dooley would not live to fight another day.
Raig stretched. If he wasn’t so tired, so utterly wasted, he would have essayed a high five. As it was, he simply grinned. “Oh yes. At last. I think we’ve done it, Kenny. Killed him off. Time to move on. If I’ve lost this source of income, I’d better give a bit more attention to my other source. Poor Berto, I sometimes wonder if he thinks I’m real. So, onward, upward and forward. For something better.”
“As in Vairi, I guess?”
He nodded. “Fuck, I hope so.”
Kenny smiled. “For your sake, so do I. Keep me in the loop. Now fuck off and go to bed. Sleep the sleep of the justified.”
If only. It was all well and good to say something like that, not as easy to do so. He knew he was in the right, knew he had done the right thing and knew the rest of his life was now beginning. It was out of his hands as to whether it would be a happy, successful, safe life.
He drove home that night in a strange mood. God, how he missed Vairi and hoped to hell he had done everything he could to facilitate their life together. He needed to hear her voice. Once again he found hims
elf calling her as he entered his house. Once again she answered immediately, sounding as if she had been waiting for his call.
“Hi.”
“Hi, yourself. What are you up to?”
Her laugh was deep, breathy and fucking sexy, sending messages to his cock he had no chance of picking up. “Personally? Up to nothing. Feeling a bit fed up, to be honest.” She seemed to hesitate. “I’ve got a lot to think about, and it isn’t easy. What I’m thinking.”
Someone else struggling with the meaning of life. There was no answer he could give, no help to proffer. “Have you thought anything profitable?”
“I think so. Maybe. We’ll see.” Her voice became happier, more upbeat, as if whatever decision she had made she could now forget about and move on. “So, my Rake, what have you been up to tonight?”
He took heart from her method of address. “Working, my love. And it was profitable. I’ll have a lot to show you on Thursday.”
“There’s an offer!” Her laugh through the phone was like music. “I shall look forward to it. Will you be listening to me tomorrow? Sending me emails? Stevie says he’ll miss not having them if you don’t.”
Was that a plea in her voice, or was it his imagination? “Of course I’ll be listening. Tell Stevie I’ll send an email in just for him. What’s your theme?”
“Ah now, that would be telling. You’ll need to wait until tomorrow night to find out.”
“It will be hard.”
He hadn’t meant the innuendo until he heard that sexy gurgle of laughter again. “Oh, I do hope so.”
He laughed back. “Seems to be a permanent state of affairs at the moment. It’s very hard.” He paused. “Without you to help.”
Vairi sighed. “We’ll see if I can do anything to soften the situation. Soon. Now, I’m off to bed. With Plato.”
“His book?” It seemed heavy reading for bedtime, but who was he to judge?
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