Reining in her disappointment, Abigail nodded and tried to catch her breath. ‘Sorry.’
‘Never apologise for turning me on,’ he whispered, smiling as he reached out and brushed aside a few strands of flyaway hair that had fallen across her face. ‘Just try not to do it for the next few minutes. I can’t turn up at the Awards with a boner jutting out the front of my trousers.’
She snorted and glanced down at his groin, which sure enough boasted a rather impressive tent. ‘I’ll do my best.’
Grinning, he reached over and grabbed the two champagne flutes, handing one to her. ‘Maybe we should talk about something boring, something safe, something that doesn’t make me want to jump your bones.’
‘Like …?’ Glowing from his hot words, she racked her brain—conversation with Nigel was never boring.
‘My grandma sent me a picture of her new slippers yesterday. It’s apparently getting cold Down Under and she thought I’d like to see them.’ He pulled out his phone to show her, chuckling. ‘They are green with yellow dots, not those silly fluffy pink ones in case you were wondering. She likes keeping me up to date.’
‘She sounds like quite a character. She’d probably get on like a house on fire with my Aunt Mags,’ Abigail said, taking another sip and relishing the way the bubbles felt on her tongue. Imagine if she fell pregnant and had to go without this deliciousness for nine whole months? Or was it ten? The timing had always confused her.
‘My whole family are characters. Why do you think I chose to live all the way over here on the other side of the world?’
‘I was thinking it was because you were ambitious.’
He chuckled. ‘Maybe a little.’
As they drove across London sharing crazy family stories (of which Abigail had plenty as well) they remarked on the various landmarks they passed. They’d both seen the main tourist sights—Big Ben, the Tower of London, Buckingham Palace, Westminster Abbey and the like—but Abigail admitted to wanting to go further afield and explore some of England’s famous castles.
‘I’ll come with you,’ Nigel said, squeezing her hand. ‘Maybe we could hire a car and make a long weekend of it some time.’
Abigail wasn’t sure fuck buddies went away to the country to see castles together, but then again, the more time she spent with Nigel, the less she wanted to be just fuck buddies anyway. ‘That sounds great.’
Before they could plot their weekend getaway, the limo pulled into the grand entrance of one of London’s finest hotels. The footmen were dressed in such finery (tails and top hats, no less) that they looked as if they could work for the queen herself. Once they’d checked in at reception and left their luggage with the concierge, they made their way to the ballroom.
‘I don’t think I’ve told you how amazing you look tonight,’ Nigel whispered, drawing her close to him as they waited to go in. ‘Let’s hope this thing doesn’t go too late.’
Desire rippled through Abigail at Nigel’s words and all she could think about was ripping off his tux and getting down and dirty. A waiter passed with a tray of alcoholic beverages and Abigail snatched one, lifting the glass to her lips and taking a long sip. She wasn’t pregnant yet, so she may as well enjoy herself that night. Besides, she needed the coolness of the expensive champagne to lower her rapidly rising body temperature.
‘Nigel! Abigail!’
At the sound of their names, she turned to see Daniel and his wife, Liane, behind them.
‘Hi.’ She smiled as Nigel’s boss leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek. Nigel did the same to Liane and then the men shook hands.
‘Lovely to see you again, Abigail,’ Liane said. They’d already met through her daughter’s music lessons. ‘Livia won’t stop raving about you. She’s loving music since you’ve taken over the teaching.’
‘Yes,’ Daniel agreed. ‘We used to have to bribe her to practise; now we almost have to tear her away to do other things.’
‘She’s an absolute delight,’ Abigail replied, basking in their compliments.
‘She’s certainly come on in leaps and bounds since you started with her,’ Liane said, grinning. ‘Now, tell me, where did you get that fabulous dress?’
‘Oh, this old thing? It’s actually my mother’s.’
‘I love vintage dresses,’ Liane gushed. ‘She has impeccable taste.’
‘Had,’ Abigail said before she could help herself. She absentmindedly brushed a hand over the silk. ‘Mum died six months ago. This was one of the dresses my sisters and I couldn’t bear to throw out.’
Liane reached out and squeezed Abigail’s hand, sympathy in her eyes. ‘I’m sorry for your loss. I can see why you wanted to keep it.’
‘Thanks.’ Abigail swallowed, not wanting to cry here of all places. The loss of her mother hit her at the oddest moments, sometimes completely taking her by surprise.
When they finally made it into the ballroom, Liane stayed close to Abigail, introducing her to the other partners sitting at their table.
‘Lovely to meet you,’ smiled a woman with a blonde bob sitting directly opposite Abigail. ‘Are you in advertising as well?’
‘No.’ Abigail laughed, shook her head and nodded to Nigel who sat beside her. ‘I’m here with him.’
‘What do you do for a living, then?’ asked the blonde.
Liane answered for her. ‘She’s a music teacher. A brilliant one.’
‘Really,’ said another woman. ‘What instrument do you teach?’
‘The violin, although I could do piano as well,’ Abigail replied, imagining what everyone was thinking. That old saying ‘Those who can, do, and those who can’t, teach,’ popped into her head. But the women surprised her. Instead of looking at her with pity or distaste, they rushed to express their interest. In less than half an hour, she’d lined up five potential new students.
‘And do you enjoy teaching?’ they wanted to know.
Abigail found she didn’t need to think about the answer. ‘Yes. I love it.’
The realisation made her giddy. She thought back over the last couple of months. Besides the stress of wondering how she’d pay the next bill, her life was less pressured than ever before. She’d always gotten a buzz from striving to achieve, but she was learning that taking each day slower, appreciating the little moments rather than rush, rush, rushing to get stuff done, also had a special kind of appeal. Then there were the kids. They were much more fun than her stuffy old colleagues in the orchestra had been. They reminded her that music was supposed to be enjoyable. They reminded her why she’d wanted to play in the first place.
‘How you going?’ Nigel whispered, squeezing the hand he’d been holding since they sat. Although he’d been talking shop with his colleagues, she’d felt his glance on her every few seconds.
‘Great.’ She leaned over and kissed his cheek, inhaling the subtle but intoxicating scent of his cologne. It smelt a little like the herbal teas Charlie always drank. ‘This is fun.’
‘I thought that night would never end,’ Nigel said as he slipped the room card into the slot and pushed open their door.
‘I thought you were—’ She’d been going to say ‘enjoying yourself’ but the words died on her tongue as she clocked eyes on the massive bed. She could tell how soft the sheets were without even touching them and in all the corners of the room vintage-looking lamps added a sensual glow. ‘Wow,’ she breathed.
‘I know.’ Nigel kicked the door shut behind them, tore her evening bag from her clutches and dumped it on an old-fashioned writing bureau. He put his hands on her waist and then spun her round. She gasped with glee as he all but ripped the zipper down the back of her dress and slipped his hands under the shoulder straps so the garment slithered to the floor. The gown hadn’t warranted a bra and she closed her eyes, moaning in ecstasy as Nigel reached up and cupped her breasts. As his fingers toyed with her already hard nipples, his lips landed on the side of her neck and the burning desire she’d fought in the limo returned with a vengeance.
; She spun around, yanked off his jacket and then started on his shirt. He kicked off his shoes as she worked the buckle of his belt. She couldn’t get his trousers off quickly enough. Foreplay was overrated—simply sitting next to him all night had been enough. And to think she’d once thought playing the violin was better than sex; she hadn’t known how good sex could be.
‘You’ve turned me into a hussy,’ she hissed as he lifted her up, her butt resting on the writing thingy. He rolled her knickers down her legs, but left her Manolo Blahnik heels on.
He thrust into her. ‘And that’s a problem how?’
‘Christ!’ she yelped as her body accommodated him. She bit down on his shoulder to stop from making more noise. They were in a posh hotel but who knew how thin the walls were.
‘You know, we really should use condoms,’ Nigel panted as he took them both closer and closer to release.
Abigail heart’s slammed into her chest and she raised her eyebrow. Really? He wanted to talk about that now? In the middle of, ahem … things? ‘Do you like using condoms? Do they give you a better experience?’
‘Hell, no,’ he scoffed, gripping her buttocks as he drove harder and further.
‘Well, then,’ she shrugged as she looked into his eyes. They were such a beautiful piercing blue tonight, and she could easily get lost in them. She was already halfway to losing her heart. ‘Don’t you think it’s a little late to be sensible?’
Chuckling, Nigel thrust again, dipping his head and kissing her deliciously on the lips.
Abigail couldn’t think about condoms or anything serious as they came together in a hot, messy, breath-stealing climax, but afterwards while they were relaxing in the giant claw-footed bathtub and later, when they took things slower—but equally as pleasurably—in bed, she started to worry. Why had he raised the issue of contraception now? They’d been sleeping together for a few months. Did it mean she wasn’t his only fuck buddy? Her stomach lurched at the thought. All of a sudden she didn’t find the term as amusing as she did when he’d first propositioned her.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked, once again brushing away errant hair that had fallen across her eyes.
‘More than.’ She hoped she sounded believable, as she didn’t want to ruin this magical night with her silly insecurities.
Nigel lifted himself up onto his elbow and gazed down at her. ‘I’m just going to come right out and say this, and before you ask, no, it’s not the alcohol speaking. I was too busy talking and networking to drink much anyway.’
She frowned. Was this his way of telling her he’d had enough? Thanks for a fun few months but I think it’s time we ended this?
Her insides twisted—she’d thought things were great between them; they’d rarely spent a night apart lately and she loved the times they simply hung together chatting or watching TV. But maybe Nigel was bored with that.
‘You’re scaring me,’ she said, immediately wishing she could take it back. Maybe she was overacting. He wouldn’t like it if she suddenly became all needy.
‘That is not my intention.’ She watched his Adam’s apple slowly move up and down before he finally spoke again. ‘When we met I told you I wasn’t looking for a relationship …’
Oh God!
How awkward. How horrible. How heartbreaking. She couldn’t bear to cry in front of him. ‘It’s okay, Nigel.’ She sat up straight, pulling the sheets up to cover herself. ‘You don’t have to—’
He cut her off. ‘Yes, Abigail. I do. I know I said I didn’t want commitment, but—’ he blinked and took her hand ‘—that was before I found you. And now … Now everything has changed.’
A sound a little like a cat’s mewling slipped from her lips. Her heart grew three sizes. ‘Oh?’ she asked, not daring to say anything more.
But he nodded, his expression more serious than she’d ever seen it before. ‘I think I’m falling in love with you. In fact, I’m terrified I already have.’
‘Terrified?’ Uncontrollable happiness bubbled within her.
‘Yes. Terrified that my admission will make you flee from the bed, snatch up your sexy stilettos, run from this room and never contact me again.’
She laughed, then grabbed his ears and pulled him towards her, kissing him in a way that hopefully indicated exactly how she felt. But just in case, when they came up for air, she added, ‘I’m not just a pretty face you know. I know a good thing when I’m shagging it and I’ve fallen in love with you as well.’
‘Praise the Lord!’ Nigel drew her into his arms and she snuggled against him, resting her head on his chest. Beneath her ear, his heart beat, and it was the most beautiful sound in the world. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she realised then that she hadn’t done any naked violin playing for him yet, but she set the thought aside. They’d have all the time in the world for stuff like that now.
Wearing a grin so big it almost hurt her face, she drifted towards sleep with the sound of Nigel breathing deeply beside her. She was almost there when suddenly she jolted awake.
What if I’m pregnant?
Tonight had been prime timing for conception. She tried to swallow the lump that had appeared from nowhere and threatened to hinder her breathing. Nigel thought she was on the pill, so how would she explain that one? She couldn’t bear the thought of what he’d do if he found out what she’d been planning.
What the hell was I thinking?
The crazy curse, the lack of an income and her utter disappointment in herself had skewed her brain, but now that things were almost back on track, her get-out-of-London pregnancy plan seemed more than stupid. It had been irrational and immoral. She only hoped Nigel would never find out. First thing tomorrow, she’d head back to that doctor and request the morning after pill.
Chapter Thirty-one
At the sound of each car approaching, Charlie looked up from where she was yanking weeds in the front garden to check for Dad and Mrs Sampson. They’d gone to Port Augusta that morning for Dad’s medical check-up and she’d expected them back by now.
‘You missed one.’
She jumped, her heart slamming into her chest cavity at the sound of Mitch coming up behind her. ‘Where did you come from?’
‘Well, Charles, when a man and a woman love each other—or at least lust strongly after each other …’
Pushing off her knees and into a stand, she shook her head at him. ‘Can you ever be serious?’
He pretended to think a moment, then shook his head. ‘Nope. That would be boring.’
She rolled her eyes, dusted the dirt from her hands and glanced at the motel car park. ‘Where’s your ute?’
He frowned. ‘Didn’t your dad tell you? He borrowed it for his trip to Port Augusta today. Said he had something to pick up.’
‘No. He didn’t.’ She racked her brain for what it could possibly be and came up blank.
‘Maybe it’s a—’ But before he could speculate, they turned at the unmistakable sound of his ute coming up the road.
Charlie’s mouth fell open and her eyes widened at the sight of a caravan being towed along behind it.
‘I was going to say “boat” but I think we have our answer,’ Mitch finished.
Charlie was speechless. She knew Dad wanted to get a caravan eventually, but she’d thought he’d wait until he had the money from the motel. It wasn’t like he could trek off on his big trip before then. Unless …
What if he decided he could? What if he leaves me in charge?
Her heart rate accelerated at the thought. Granted, things were going well here, and she was enjoying her work and the challenge each day brought, but she couldn’t do it on her own.
‘Relax.’ Mitch put his hand on her arm as Dad turned the ute and caravan into the car park. ‘Caravans don’t bite.’
‘I just …’
Reading her mind, Mitch said, ‘This doesn’t mean Brian’s running away. It’s just a step towards achieving a future dream. I think it’s a great sign. It shows he wants to get on with life—find a
new way of living.’
Charlie nodded. Silently telling herself to get a grip, she tried to smile as she went to greet them. ‘I thought you were going to the doctor’s.’ She raised her eyebrows at Dad as he climbed out of the ute.
He exchanged a sheepish look with Mrs Sampson as she emerged from the passenger side. ‘I did,’ he said. ‘And good news is, I’ve been given a clean bill of health. My blood pressure is down and my cholesterol too. All those ghastly vegetable juices you’ve been making me for breakfast have obviously done me good.’
‘That’s fabulous, Dad.’ And it was, but right now Charlie was more interested in the caravan. Close up, it looked like he may have gotten it for a bargain. At least, she hoped so because there were a few dents in the side and it needed a new lick of paint. ‘Looks like you also went shopping.’
‘Oh. This?’ Dad looked to the caravan as if he’d only just noticed it. Beside him Mrs Sampson laughed.
‘Can we have a squiz inside?’ Mitch asked, his tone amused. ‘I’ve always loved the way these vans look so small yet fit so much.’
‘Sure. Come on in.’ Mrs Sampson dug a key out of her pocket and started towards the door.
Mitch and Dad followed and climbed up into the caravan after her, but Charlie had questions.
‘Whose caravan is this exactly?’ she asked, battling a queer feeling in her stomach as she hurried after them.
Mitch feigned interest in the fridge and the cupboards above the tiny kitchen, opening all the doors and closing them again as Dad and Mrs Sampson gave him the tour. Finally they met her gaze.
Dad spoke first. ‘When I told Mrs Sampson my dream of owning a caravan and travelling around Australia, she said she had the same dream, so we decided to pool our savings and buy one together.’
‘I see.’ Did this mean they were together-together or were they going into this venture purely as friends? Charlie couldn’t quite bring herself to ask, but was comforted by the fact that the van had two single beds instead of one double. Not that she didn’t want Dad and Mrs Sampson to be an item—she’d all but given Mrs Sampson her blessing—but she wasn’t quite ready to think about what that might actually entail.
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