The Real Fantasy

by Caroline Anderson

  She scooted up the bed, heavily conscious of Matthew’s soft, worn T-shirt that she had borrowed last night. ‘Thanks,’ she said huskily, her voice unused. She sipped the tea, blowing the steam off the top and watching Matthew as he stood at the window.

  ‘The police have been to the surgery again. Their forensic boys have been through it and got some prints. They need you to check your flat again, but they don’t think there’s any problem.’

  She nodded. ‘What’s the time?’

  ‘Eleven-thirty.’

  ‘What?’ She sat up straight and nearly slopped the tea. ‘It can’t be!’

  His smile was gentle. ‘You were shattered. I thought I’d let you sleep. I went in and did the emergency surgery and handed over to Rosie—it’s her weekend on. I thought I’d take you back when you’re ready.’

  ‘What about the door?’ she asked, wondering how she was ever going to manage to sleep there again.

  ‘It’s being replaced with a much more secure metal door and frame.’

  ‘But when?’

  ‘Now, as we speak. I’ve left the workmen there.’

  ‘Oh.’ So she would be secure—at least from that angle of attack. There were, of course, all the windows... Still, she mustn’t be a wimp. Of course she’d be all right. This was a simple burglary, nothing to do with the rapist.

  Matthew left her alone and she showered in his bathroom with an amazing power shower that nearly blasted her skin off and left her feeling invigorated and wonderful. Of course she would be all right, she told herself. It was just the accumulation of the rape and the burglary. Neither of them had been directed at her. She must stop being so neurotic.

  She dressed quickly in the clothes she had had on last night, and Matthew took her back to her flat. There was a policeman there waiting to speak to her, and she took him up to her flat.

  ‘I wonder if you could tell us if anything’s missing from your flat?’ he said without preamble. ‘We’ve got several sets of prints from the burglar, and they weren’t up here. Yours we’ve identified—they were all over the place. Also Dr Williams and Dr Jarvis. There were no other fresh prints at all, so we’re almost certain that he didn’t come up here.’

  Linsey felt a wave of relief sweep over her. ‘I’m sure nothing’s missing. I haven’t got anything of any value, and I keep my medical bag in my consulting room. It’s still there.’

  The policeman nodded. ‘Right. Sorry to have troubled you. If you do notice anything amiss during the day, give us a call, but I’m pretty certain you’re safe.’ He gave her a reassuring smile and left, and she wandered round, picking up a cup and taking it into the kitchen, washing up the glass lying on the draining board—Glass? When had she used a glass?

  She shrugged. She was getting neurotic. She went into the bedroom and made the bed, folding and tidying clothes and loading the washing machine. She looked around for her nightie with the cats on, but she couldn’t find it. She shrugged again. Probably down behind the head of the bed where she’d flung it. She’d find it later.

  Matthew came up and she smiled at him. ‘Hi. Door fixed?’

  He nodded. ‘They’ve gone. Here’s a new key for you. It’s got a deadlock and bolts, so you’re all secure.’

  She took it. ‘Thanks,’ she murmured. ‘Coffee?’

  He smiled. ‘No. I’m taking you out to lunch. How about the Ship on the quay at Lymington? They do a wonderful steak—and the wickedest puddings.’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘How did you know?’

  He grinned. ‘You wouldn’t be normal if you didn’t have a weakness for wicked things.’

  Their eyes met and clashed.

  ‘Like you?’ she murmured.

  ‘Hell, Linsey,’ he groaned, and then she was in his arms, and they were back to square one. ‘Maybe this time,’ he murmured, but then the phone rang and he released her with a laugh. ‘God clearly doesn’t want me to have my evil way with you,’ he said wryly, and scooped up the receiver. ‘Jarvis.’

  He shot her a glance. ‘Yes, she’s right here. I’ll get her for you.’ He held the phone out. ‘Tricia.’

  She took the phone, perching on the arm of the chair. ‘Hi! How are you?’

  ‘Never mind me,’ Tricia said impatiently. ‘Was that him?’

  Linsey tilted her head so that she could see him. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘that was him.’

  ‘Wow, what a voice! Like melted chocolate. No wonder you threw yourself in the river!’

  Linsey laughed. ‘Yeah, sure.’

  ‘So, how’s it going?’

  She sighed. ‘Oh, fine. We had a burglary at the surgery last night so I spent the rest of the night at Matthew’s—and no, we didn’t.’

  Matthew’s eyebrows shot up, and a grin creased his face. Linsey poked her tongue out at him and turned her back.

  ‘Is he still there?’ Tricia asked.

  ‘Yes, he’s standing on the other side of the room. Why?’

  ‘So you can’t tell me whether it’s working out OK.’

  ‘Well, I can.’

  ‘I’ll ask. Has it been difficult?’

  ‘No, not really.’

  ‘Is he as gorgeous as you thought? What about his wife?’

  ‘Uh-uh.’

  ‘No wife? He’s divorced?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Widowed?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Single—he sounds like that and he’s still single? Does he have genital warts or what?’

  Linsey laughed helplessly. ‘Not as far as I know, but I haven’t looked yet.’

  ‘Yet?’

  Trust Tricia to pick that up. ‘I haven’t looked,’ she corrected herself.

  ‘Yet.’

  ‘OK. Maybe I will.’

  ‘Be careful,’ Tricia cautioned her. ‘Not that I don’t think it’s time you found someone, but you’re such a softy you’ll get torn to bits by him if you’re not careful. Is he just a perennial bachelor?’

  Linsey looked at him again. ‘No, I don’t think so. I think he’s just fussy.’

  He met her eyes, his own puzzled. ‘Are you talking about me?’ he demanded.

  She nodded and smile. ‘He’s looking cross now.’

  ‘You sound terrified,’ Tricia said drily.

  She laughed again. ‘Hardly.’

  ‘So, you’ve got a really professional trainer/trainee relationship going there, have you?’

  Linsey doubled up. ‘Oh, absolutely,’ she said when she could speak. ‘In fact, when he’s wearing his trainer’s hat he’s a demon. Talk about pedantic. He disagrees with everything—’

  ‘You disagree, excuse me,’ Matthew interrupted. ‘You’re the most aggravating wench.’

  Tricia chuckled. ‘I think you’ve got under his skin, my friend.’

  ‘Hmm,’ Linsey said with a twinkle. ‘What an interesting thought.’

  ‘I’m coming to see you—I want to know what this man’s like and the suspense is killing me.’

  ‘How’s your job?’

  ‘Boring. I’m going to switch to general practice. You seem to be having lots of fun.’

  Linsey smiled. ‘It’s a case of hand-picking your trainer. They have to kiss well. I’m off now—Oh!’

  Matthew snatched the phone. ‘Don’t listen to her, Tricia. She is the most unethical, unprofessional colleague I have ever had, not to mention disrespectful. Believe me, that’s not the way to get on, and her report will reflect my opinion.’

  Linsey laughed again, quite unabashed. His words might be threatening, but he had his arm around her and his hips were pressed up against her side, giving a quite unmistakable message. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said down the phone. ‘She has to go; we’re in the middle of a tutorial. I’ll get her to ring you back.’

  He hung up and turned to her. ‘Get your things. You’re coming back to my cottage for the weekend.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘But it’s safe now.’

  One brow arched. ‘Not where you’re going.’

  A
wicked little smile danced in her eyes. ‘Oh, really? I’ll pack.’

  ‘You do that—and by the way, what haven’t you looked for?’

  She grinned mischievously at him. ‘Genital warts.’

  His jaw dropped, and then he laughed like a drain. ‘Damn you, Linsey, you deserve everything I’m going to say in that assessment,’ he said when he could speak.

  She looked innocent. ‘It was Tricia’s suggestion. She thought that was why you might be single, seeing as you have such a gorgeous voice.’

  ‘I have?’

  Linsey shrugged. ‘Tricia thought so. Personally I think it’s quite ordinary.’

  She went into the bedroom and started to pack, then became aware of the slow creak of boards.

  The whisper was husky and chilling. ‘I’ll give you ordinary,’ he rasped. ‘I am magnificent, and by the time I’ve finished with you you will be mesmerised for ever!’

  A cold shudder ran through her, and her hands came up to cover her face. ‘God, Matthew, don’t,’ she pleaded.

  ‘Linsey?’

  His hands cupped her shoulders and turned her into his arms, his voice normal now and filled with remorse. ‘Hell, sweetheart, what have I done?’

  ‘Your voice—I don’t know,’ she mumbled into his shirt. ‘Somebody walked over my grave.’

  He tutted. ‘I’m sorry. Come on, let’s get you out of here,’ he murmured. ‘Grab your things.’

  ‘I can’t find my nightie.’

  ‘You won’t need it—I’ll keep you warm. Let’s go.’

  They went, first to the Ship on Lymington quay for a delicious lunch eaten outside in the sunshine without a demon or a rapist in sight, and then back to his cottage. They lay in the garden on sun-loungers, in the shade of a little group of birches, and to Linsey’s amazement she found she was drowsy.

  ‘Go to sleep,’ he told her. ‘I’m here.’

  Now why should that make a difference? she wondered, and dropped off to sleep.

  She woke much later, and, turning towards Matthew, she saw he was sitting up on the side of the lounger and watching her. ‘OK?’ he murmured.

  She nodded. ‘Fine. How long have I been asleep?’

  He looked at his watch. ‘About an hour and a half.’ His smile was indulgent—a rather masculine smile.

  ‘I don’t suppose you dropped off at all,’ she said snappily.

  He laughed. ‘No. I’ve been gardening. Want a cold drink?’

  She saw the beads of sweat on his brow, and the damp patch on the front of his T-shirt.

  ‘It’s too hot to work.’

  He snorted. ‘Tell me about it. I’ve been weeding. Why is it that during a drought the only things to grow are the weeds?’

  She laughed and stood up, stretching, and his eyes fastened on the rise of her breasts and he groaned. Slowly she lowered her arms and met his gaze.

  ‘How about a shower?’ she suggested.

  ‘I’ll go now,’ he said.

  ‘No, us.’

  His eyes widened, then his lips parted on a rush of air. ‘What an excellent idea,’ he said softly. ‘Coming?’

  She smiled. ‘I hope so.’

  ‘Definitely,’ he replied, and took her hand in his. He was grimy and sweaty, but she didn’t give a damn. She followed him, not that he gave her any choice, and in the bathroom they peeled off their clothes and went into the shower together.

  The water was wonderful, pounding on their skin, adding to the excitement—at least, until it ran cold. He broke their kiss and stepped away, cutting off the water supply.

  ‘Here.’ He wrapped her in a thick, fluffy towel and picked her up, carrying her through to the bedroom.

  ‘You’ll put your back out. There’s a lot of me,’ she warned.

  He snorted and dropped her into the middle of the bed. ‘I can cope with you, you gorgeous creature,’ he murmured, and began blotting her dry with the towel.

  She lay there watching him, her eyes searching every inch of him, fascinated by the texture of his skin, the trailing rivulets of water that zigzagged over his chest and down his abdomen.

  She traced one with her finger, right the way down to the soft nest of hair that surrounded his very masculine reaction. His eyes closed and he groaned as her finger trailed on, right to the end, and over, rubbing oh, so gently at the tiny bead of moisture on the very tip.

  ‘No genital warts,’ she murmured in satisfaction.

  His choked laugh brought her eyes to his face.

  ‘Lord, lady, you know how to ruin a moment,’ he grumbled.

  Her hand slid back and circled him, stroking gently, and his eyes closed. He shuddered and caught her hand, lifting it to his lips and kissing the palm, running his tongue over it and nipping the pad of her thumb.

  ‘Matthew?’

  ‘Mmm?’

  ‘Take the phone off the hook.’

  He reached across to the bedside table, lifted the receiver and dropped it, leaving it to dangle. Then he found a foil packet, ripped it open and handed her the condom.

  ‘Would you?’ he asked with a smile in his eyes.

  ‘I might,’ she teased, and put it on him with slow deliberation.

  He groaned, deep and husky, and then she reached for him, pulling him across her.

  The phone dangled, electronic beeps coming from it, and a woman’s voice repeating over and over, ‘Please hang up and try again.’

  They ignored her. Matthew shifted his hips so that he lay above her, poised at her threshold, and kissed her, long and slow and deep. Then he eased into her, giving her time to adjust, and she lifted her hips and took him all.

  A shuddering sigh went through her. ‘Oh, Matthew,’ she whispered, and he shifted slightly, his hand coming between them and touching her oh, so carefully, so softly, so skilfully.

  It was like dropping a pebble on a still, silent pond. Her body awoke, ripples spreading out from the centre as he started to move, his body urging her on, his mouth capturing her cries as the ripples reached the banks and she shattered in his arms.

  Then he stiffened, crying out her name, and gradually she felt the ripples fade, and the water became still again and silent, waiting for the next pebble to fall...

  ‘I’ve never done this before,’ she confessed.

  His eyes narrowed. ‘Never done what?’

  ‘Made love to someone I don’t know.’

  He laughed softly. ‘Linsey, you know me.’

  ‘I feel as if I do—but then I felt I knew you years ago, and we hardly spoke to each other.’

  Matthew’s face went still. ‘It’s irrational. It’s just because I saved your life.’

  His expression fascinated her. Had he felt the same? His comment had been quiet, but forceful. She made her tone deliberately light. ‘The Chinese say you should beware saving someone’s life, because you are then responsible for it. Tricia said you’re either very brave, extremely foolish or hadn’t heard the proverb.’

  He snorted. ‘Clever girl, your friend Tricia.’ His face softened again and he kissed the tip of her nose. ‘Getting back to what you said, I’m glad you don’t go round jumping into bed with men you don’t know.’

  ‘I did with you.’

  ‘You know me well enough. We’ve spent the week together, for heaven’s sake.’

  ‘So how do you explain what almost happened on Tuesday night, before Jan came along?’

  His hand strayed possessively to her breast. ‘Lust,’ he said simply. ‘Everyone’s entitled to fall off their pedestal every now and again. I guess Tuesday was your day to fall.’

  His lips replaced his hand and he nuzzled her breast, licking and nibbling and driving her crazy. She pushed him away. ‘Matthew, I’m trying to have a serious conversation here!’

  He laughed softly and lay down beside her, his eyes on hers. ‘Sorry,’ he murmured, looking anything but. ‘You were saying?’

  ‘I was saying I don’t know you—not well. I don’t know anything about your taste in music, or what
you read, or what your hobbies are; I don’t know what you want from your life, or what you see in me.’

  ‘That’s not true. You know a lot about me. You know I share the same values as you, that I like the countryside and solitude, good food, continuity—’

  She laughed. ‘Yes. And I know you love all your patients, and you give to them far beyond the call of duty. Look at Joe. No wonder he left you this house. I know you’re a man he respected. I know your patients and colleagues think the world of you, that the FHSA must think very highly of you if you’re a trainer at only thirty-five; I know you have a sense of humour although you try to hide it well.’

  She smiled at him and traced the lines around his eyes. - ‘I also know there’s a deeper side of you that you don’t share very easily, that you keep still and quiet and private—a side that I can only guess at. That’s what I don’t know. I don’t know why you are as you are.’

  ‘Is that important?’

  She ran her finger down his nose, over his lips and down to his chest, dallying with the light scatter of hair. ‘I don’t know. I would like to know what you see in me.’

  His face softened. ‘A beautiful, opinionated, self reliant woman. You fascinate me. You’re difficult and awkward, and yet you tease and laugh at me and I want you anyway. You tie me in knots.’

  Her hand slid lower, her palm lying flat against the taut planes of his abdomen. The skin there was pale against the darker tan of her hand, and in the hollow of his hip-bone it was unbelievably silk-like. She stroked it, then found herself distracted by his predictable response. Her fingers strayed again, sampling textures, fascinated by the contrast of satin on steel.

  His breath eased out on a sigh of pleasure, and she laid her head on his chest and watched her hand torment him. A little bead of moisture appeared at the tip, and she moved her head down, her tongue flicking out to capture it.

  Matthew thought he was going to die.

  She bent over him, her hair like a curtain screening her from view, and her mouth cherished him with infinite care.

  He needed her. Know her or not, he needed her, couldn’t get her out of his mind, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t concentrate on anything except her.