Clare Connelly Pairs: Warming the Sheikh’s Bed & Love in the Fast Lane

by Connelly , Clare

  “Not at all,” he contradicted fiercely. “I already apologised for belittling your blog. I think it’s great that you are doing something you are so passionate about. I’m glad that it’s not modelling.”

  “Are you?” She frowned. “I didn’t realise you didn’t like my modelling.”

  He felt a sense that they had reached a tipping point and anchored his words cautiously. “I didn’t like you being measured by your looks alone, when there is so much more to you.”

  “Oh.” Pleasure glowed warm inside her. “It wasn’t really like that.”

  “Wasn’t it?”

  She shrugged and reached for her pasta.

  “This is delicious,” he complimented in a clunky change of conversation. “Two years we dated and you never cooked a single meal.”

  “I’m sure I made toast.”

  He laughed. The chasm between past and present was closing in a way that was dangerous. It threatened to catch him in its jaws. Everything about what they were doing was dangerous. He frowned; an infinitesimal flicker of emotion on his swarthy face. He hurriedly finished his dinner and put the bowl down. “I should get going.”

  Her disappointment was obvious. “Are you sure?” She bit down on her lip, pulling it between her teeth. “It’s only early.”

  He took her bowl and placed it on his, then carried them through to the kitchen. Aurora followed behind him.

  “My flight leaves early and I have to do a few things before I go.”

  “Right.” She pressed her lips together. “The race.”

  He nodded. “The race.” They stood silently staring at one another, so much unsaid, so much emotion charging the small distance between them.

  “So…” She dropped her gaze, her self-consciousness obvious. “What now?”

  He opened his mouth to respond, but couldn’t think what to say. What now? It was a good question. But it had already been answered. They’d both hurt each other enough for a lifetime. He reached out and took one of her hands in his. “Now, we say goodbye. For real, this time.”

  Her eyes flew to his face. “Goodbye?”

  “Nothing’s changed.” It was a gruff admission. “Racing is my life.” He cleared his throat. “The most important thing in my life.”

  As it had been then. More important, even, than she was to him.

  Why did it hurt so much to hear him say the words? How had she let herself fantasise that this would lead to something else? To think they could be anything else?

  He was right. Nothing had changed. But despite the fact his words were grounded in common sense, she felt anger surge through her. Perhaps it was taking over from the disappointment. Protecting her from the hurt.

  “So what the hell was this all about? One last romp to get me out of your system before you go and try to get yourself killed?”

  “Hey.” He pulled her against his chest. “We both know I’ll never get you out of my system. No matter how many times we do that.” He kissed her forehead. “I just had to see you again before I left.”

  “That’s incredibly selfish of you.”

  He stiffened a little. “Don’t turn this into something it isn’t. We both agreed to what just happened. We both knew it was the end, not a new beginning.”

  Had they? She wasn’t so sure. Why else would she be feeling almost murderously enraged?

  “Screw you,” she ground out, pushing at his chest and turning her back on him. “Just go.”

  “Listen.” He was so calm, it only seemed to fan the flames of her rage. “Maybe this was selfish. The last thing I wanted to do was upset you.” He reached for her arm and spun her around. “It won’t happen again.”

  “How can you say that?”

  His chest hurt. “Because you’re going to move on. Forget you ever knew me. I’m no good for you.”

  “You’re right about that.”

  He felt a strong sense of nausea assail him. His voice sounded unnatural. “Call Alec. You should be with someone nice. Someone safe.”

  Aurora closed her eyes. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You want me to call Alec? You think I should see someone else? Someone really great, who I’ll probably end up marrying?”

  His body temperature spiked to fever pitch, as a groundswell of panic seemed to breathe over him. He nodded jerkily. “I think you should forget about me.”

  “Like you’ll forget about me?”

  “No.” He squeezed her arm. “I’ll never forget about you, Aurora, but I will move on from you, in my own way.”

  Her temper wouldn’t simmer. It boiled and raged. “And what does moving on look like for you? A girlfriend? A lover? Ten lovers? How many women will you need to sleep with before you’ve exorcised the ghost of what we have?”

  “I don’t know,” he said finally, his expression grim. “All I know is that you can’t wait for me. You can’t wait for me to stop racing, because it’s not going to happen. And I won’t wait for you to get over your aversion to the sport. So move on. Call Alec. And be happy.”

  Happy? It was laughable. She knew she’d never feel happy again.

  5

  “Aurora!” Alec opened the door inward, his handsome face creasing into a pleasant smile of surprise. “What are you doing here?”

  She had just been thinking the same thing. “Bea invited me. Do you mind?”

  Alec stepped inside further, opening the door wider to allow her entry. “Mind? I’m really happy to see you. Come in. We’re just getting started.”

  Cards and brunch at Alec’s house had sounded perfectly innocent, but Aurora realised, when she walked inside, that it was only to be the four of them. Her eyes fixed Beatrice with a slightly accusing smile, before wiping any annoyance from her face. “If it isn’t my favourite engaged pair,” she said, swinging her handbag off her shoulder and placing it beside Beatrice’s. “This is a nice place,” she said to Alec. Somewhat of an understatement. The London Bridge flat seemed to stretch for miles, and all of the external walls were made from tinted glass.

  “Thanks. I’ll give you a tour.”

  “Sure.” She fell into step beside him, as he led her from the kitchen to the terrace. Once they were out in the frigid, sunlit day, he looked at her with a lopsided smile. “You never called me.”

  Her eyes dropped. “I know. I’m sorry…”

  “Don’t be. I get the message. I’m not your type.”

  “It’s not that,” she swore quickly, shaking her head in a way that sent her blonde hair flying like a curtain about her face. It had been over a week since she’d last seen Leonardo, and she had no reason to suspect she would see him again. Not before the wedding, anyway.

  “Honestly, I’m a big boy. I can take it.”

  “You seem like a top guy,” she said and cringed at the banal observation. “I’m just… I’m a mess.”

  “Is there someone else?”

  “Yes.” She bit down on her lip. “Or there was. But I’m just not sure I’m ready to … jump back into anything. You know?”

  “I do know.” He turned away and stared out at the view. It was one of those perfect early November days; a crisp azure sky, shining sun, and wind that felt like it had been kissed by the arctic. The air was clean in a way that almost seemed to glisten. “My wedding would have been a year ago today.”

  “Your wedding?” For the first time in a month, her own heartbreak cleared out of her mind. “What happened?”

  “My manager happened. He left his wife and kids for her. She left me for him. It was a match made in infidelity heaven.”

  “Shit.” She shook her head from side to side. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I’m not.” He shrugged. “It saved me a lot of pain, in the long run; and a fortune in alimony payouts.”

  “So you’re spending what would have been your first anniversary with Beatrice, Peter and a deck of cards?”

  “A pretty lame attempt to distract me. I suggested a strip club and getting wasted but Beatrice put the kib
osh on that.”

  “She’s annoying in that way,” Aurora joked, looking at him thoughtfully.

  “Uptight bitch,” he responded with half a laugh. “What about you? Who’s the guy?”

  She shook her head. “It’s complicated.”

  “More complicated than spending your first would have been wedding anniversary with your loved up best mate?”

  “Okay, that’s pretty pathetic.” She winced. “Beatrice doesn’t know, is the thing. And I’d rather keep it that way.”

  “Beatrice? Woah. Don’t tell me if you don’t want to.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “It’s weird. I want to.” She sucked in a deep breath. “It’s Leonardo.”

  He looked at her blankly and then, comprehension dawned. “Shit. Leonardo Fontana? Beatrice’s brother?”

  “Half-brother,” she hastened to correct. “Yeah. Him.”

  “Wait a minute. Go back. How does she not know?”

  “We were really careful.” She shrugged. “I was travelling a lot for work, so it’s not like she noticed when I was out of town for stretches of time. Most of the relationship was spent in foreign cities, while I was working or he was racing. Or we’d hide out in my apartment, not venturing out except for essentials.”

  He nodded. “Why not be honest though?”

  “It caught us by surprise. We agreed to keep it to ourselves until we knew it was serious.”

  “And it never got serious?”

  “No, it did. It was. But by then we were just really… selfish about each other. I didn’t want to share our relationship with anyone. It was ours. Ours to keep from friends, family, the media. No one else could get involved then. No pressures, no expectations. It was just what we wanted.”

  “I can sort of see that. I suppose with what you did, and what he does, you were both in the public eye a lot. It must have been nice to have something that was private.”

  “Yes. That privacy was important.” She looked at him wistfully, her mind travelling back in time.

  “So what happened?”

  She blinked. “We broke up.” She shrugged, attempting to project an image of calm. “Three years ago.”

  He was quiet, staring out at the cityscape. “That’s a long time ago. It seems like you could probably start thinking about a date with someone else. Right?”

  She laughed. “I have to give you points for persistence, I suppose.”

  “I mean it. How can you still be hung up on him?” He frowned. “Was it seeing him that night at the bar?”

  She focussed on a car, driving around the corner, far beneath them. “It reminded me of what he used to mean to me. That’s all.”

  “Must be hard, not having Beatrice to talk to about any of this.”

  “Tell me about it.” She winced. “I don’t know if she’d ever forgive us, actually.” She turned around on the balcony, resting her palms against the railing.

  “Your secret is safe with me.” His eyes raked her face consideringly. “You know, maybe we can help each other out.”

  “Yeah? How’s that?”

  “What about Not Dating?”

  “Not Dating?” She furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?”

  “What if we go out, and get to know each other, but from the outset we’ll say that there’s nothing to it except two tragic losers hanging out.”

  She laughed. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever been called a tragic loser before.”

  “See? I’m breaking new ground already. Who knows? I might even teach you a thing or two.”

  “You just might, Alec.”

  “Is that a yes?”

  She pulled a face and nodded. “Sure. I’ll Not Go Out with you.”

  “Great.” He put a hand out and she surprised herself by putting her own in it. “Let’s start with whipping Bea and Pete’s smug arses.”

  “Uh oh,” she remarked with a grimace. “We’ve hit our first bump in the road already, and we’ve only been a Not Couple for two minutes.”

  He threw her a look of mirth. “What’s the problem?”

  “When it comes to cards, I’m a dead weight.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll carry you.”

  They walked back into the lounge area, both smiling in a relaxed way. But Aurora’s easiness disappeared when her eyes caught what was on the large screen behind them. Formula One. The unmistakable sound of engines purring filled her with a bone chilling fear.

  “What’s… that?” She gulped, taking a step closer as car after car hooned past the camera.

  “Errr, Grand Prix,” Beatrice said, as though her best friend had lost her mind. “You might have heard of it before?”

  “Oh, sure. Right.”

  And in spite of herself, she stared at the screen. Her stomach churned in her middle.

  “There’s the man,” Peter cheered, as the unmistakable logo of the Italian car giant raced past. Aurora looked at the screen. He was placing well; he’d be thrilled.

  “I didn’t know about your history. When Pete suggested we have it on,” Alec said in an apologetic undertone.

  “It’s fine. I’m totally fine with it,” she lied, sitting on the edge of the sofa and trying her hardest not to look at the screen. It didn’t work. With each lap the cars completed, she felt her blood pressure rising.

  “Guys,” she said, standing unsteadily. “I completely forgot but I’m meant to go to a thing.”

  “A thing?” Beatrice looked at her sharply. “What thing?”

  “Just… a showing. Some up and coming designer. He’s been commissioned to do a hat for the Duchess of Cambridge’s tour to Australia.” It was a white lie. The showing was to take place the following week. Fudging the dates wouldn’t hurt anyone though.

  Alec stood to accompany her but she waved him down. “Don’t worry. I can see myself out.”

  He continued to stand anyway, and followed her to the door. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” She nodded, but her skin was pale; her eyes gleaming.

  “Okay. Can I call you?”

  “Sure.” She pressed a chaste kiss against his cheek. “I’d like that.”

  She left when the race was in its infancy. She never saw him win. And even if she had, it would have done nothing to cheer her. He was no longer in her life. But that didn’t mean she was happy with the risks he took.

  * * *

  Their first Non-Date was dinner at a popular celebrity haunt in Notting Hill. And while she liked Alec, it underscored all of the reasons she had for not wanting to get involved with him. The bulbs flashed in her face as they made their way through the wrought iron doors.

  “Paparazzi love you, huh?”

  She lifted her shoulders. “You can take the model off the runway… but all the world’s a runway, anyway.”

  A slender waitress showed them to their table and Alec immediately apologised. “I wanted to impress you. I didn’t think. Obviously this was a terrible choice.”

  “It’s fine,” she demurred. “Honestly, I’m not precious about having my photo taken.”

  His smile was uneasy.

  “Why do you want to impress me anyway?” She asked with a teasing smile. “We’re just friends, right?”

  “Right.” He cleared his throat. The waiter appeared and Alec ordered a bottle of champagne. “That’s okay?”

  “Fine,” she nodded.

  “Did you happen to watch the rest of the race?”

  “No.” She hadn’t needed to. Ferrari’s victory, led by Leonardo Fontana, had been splashed over all the papers the next day. Along with a huge photograph of him cradling the cup.

  “Beatrice was thrilled for him. He probably heard her all the way over there.”

  Aurora’s smile was heavy on her face. “Do you mind if we… don’t talk about it?”

  He sat back while the waiter popped the cork on their champagne and poured it into two crystal flutes. Then, he leaned forward. “It’s just, I was thinking about what you said the other day. The dates. Three
years ago was around when he had that God awful crash, wasn’t it?”

  Beneath the table, she clasped her hands together. “Yes.”

  “What came first? The break up, or the crash?”

  “The crash.” She lowered her gaze, staring at the table with a heart that was sinking.

  “So you guys broke up right after?”

  “It probably sounds incredibly callous. He was in hospital. But he was so badly injured, Alec. I mean, he was in a coma, he had broken bones. It was terrible. Seeing someone you love in such a state is a nightmare. And then, he came out of it, and almost the first thing he asked was when he’d be able to race again.” She sipped her champagne. “How many times can you go through that? Every time he got in his car, I would have wondered if that was going to be the day that he died. I never liked him racing before the crash. But having seen him like that once… I couldn’t do it.”

  “And he didn’t understand that.”

  “No.” She shook her head to clear the cloud. “But this is not what I want to be discussing on my first non-date in years. So let’s talk about something that doesn’t make me want to weep.”

  He grinned and launched into a story about his job. Surprisingly, given that he was a financial services expert, he was funny and interesting. Aurora found the evening passed quickly, and though she felt nothing for him but amicable appreciation, she was glad to have another friend.

  “May I see you home?” He asked, holding the door to a cab open for her. She slid in, and nodded up at him.

  “No. I’ll drop you off. I’m out of your way.”

  He paused and she rolled her eyes. “Hop in. It’s a non-date, remember? Usual rules don’t apply.”

  “You’re the boss.”

  6

  “Everything will be perfect,” Aurora promised, but her stomach was filled with butterflies. With less than a week until the wedding, she and Beatrice had decamped to Farnley, to oversee the final wedding preparations. And when she should have been concentrating on string quartets and Salvia arrangements, she was instead constantly bracing herself for his arrival.