by Susan Lewis
She gripped his shoulders and stared up at his face. Then, as he looked at her too, she seemed to lose all sense of where and who she was as he began moving his hips in a way that touched every part of her, bathing her in sensations that were almost too powerful to bear.
‘Oh my God, my God,’ she murmured.
He drew her lips between his, then pushed his tongue into her mouth as he moved himself inside her with a rhythm and a force she could hardly bear. She felt so full of him, so overpowered and enrapt by him. He moved with exquisite slowness, then speed, with such expert knowledge of when she was at the brink, only to bring her back and exploit her again in a torrent of unbearable pleasure. Time and time again he took her to the point where she felt her entire body might explode with the ecstasy. She wanted to scream, to rage, to draw him in tighter and make him feel the immaculate pain he was inflicting on her senses, but she was so lost to anything beyond what he was doing, she could only cling to him and beg him for more, and yet more.
Then at last he let her fly, and as the climactic rush soared through him too he pressed his mouth needfully to hers, wanting her cries inside him as he was inside her.
They continued to hold each other long after their heartbeats were calm. Only their faces were apart, so that they could gaze into each other’s eyes. Though he said nothing he knew it was love that he felt for this woman, who was still so injured inside that she might be his for only one night.
Chapter 14
THE ONLY GOOD thing about leaving Ravello was knowing that now she’d rejigged the schedule and put the Italian programme ahead of the Austrian, they’d be back again in less than two weeks. The closeness Allyson was starting to feel with Mark was something she wasn’t ready to put into words; it was enough just to feel it and know that he felt it too. He’d insisted that he wanted to take everything at her speed, even though she had no idea how fast or slow that was, except she was still a very long way from being able to make any kind of commitment again. She was also quite overwhelmed by the fact that any of this was happening at all. Self-effacement definitely wasn’t her thing, but even without the horrible battering her confidence had taken over Bob’s desertion, she’d never imagined a man wanting her rather than Shelley. Not even Bob had been immune to Shelley’s charms, it seemed, though Shelley, being the friend she was, had always spurned his advances. Which was why Allyson felt so bad about what was happening between her and Mark, for she’d done little to spurn him, even though she’d known she was trampling Shelley’s dream. But maybe Shelley wasn’t as hurt as she feared, after all there had been no actual relationship between her and Mark, and Shelley knew very well that none of them had any control over the vagaries of love.
However, despite feeling that she had her relationship with Mark under careful control, Allyson had to confess that their parting, when they returned to London, was a much greater wrench than she’d expected. And the flat, when she walked in, seemed horribly empty and cold. For a moment she felt herself sliding towards depression, as the confusion of what had happened with Mark, and what it might mean for her and Bob, started to engulf her. But then the phone rang, bringing a call from her mother, which was quickly followed by a call from Zac and Justine wanting to know how it had gone in Italy; then Alan, the director, was on the line with some preliminary thoughts on crewing. Half an hour later she was on the point of heaving her suitcase onto the bed to empty it when the phone shrilled into life again. This time it was Mark.
‘I promised myself I wouldn’t do this,’ he said, ‘but as I’m at a loose end for dinner, I was wondering if you were free.’
‘I promised myself I’d say no if you asked,’ she replied, ‘but if you bring the wine I’ll cook.’
He arrived an hour later and they made love straight away. She sensed a new urgency to their passion, that must have been incited by the parting, for the lazy, though unsurpassable tenderness of Italy was replaced by an aggressive need to be as close as their bodies would allow.
Only afterwards, as they lay breathlessly in each other’s arms, did Allyson think of Bob, and how no other man but him had slept in this bed. But that was going to change now if she could persuade Mark to stay.
It was never discussed, he just did.
The next morning as she drove to the office her mood was coasting buoyantly about in memories of the night before, as she relived every smile and caress, every word and sensation. Though she knew there were still many complications to overcome, she was content to allow herself these few precious moments of believing that the worst of the pain was behind her, and that everything would work out perfectly in the end. Her heart was suddenly seized by the naivety of that, for one of the messages on her answerphone last night had been from her lawyer saying that Bob wanted to see her. She knew instinctively what it would be about, and then she was sunk in guilt as she remembered how passionately she had once vowed that she would stand by him through whatever crisis middle age might bring. But life had moved on a long way since then, and her feelings had changed in ways she could never have predicted. It was true that a part of her longed desperately to turn back the clock to a time before Tessa, and before Mark, so that they could erase the heartache of these past few months and return to being the people they’d always been. But of course it wasn’t possible, so they had no choice but to deal with things the way they were now.
Feeling a sudden urge to speak to Mark she reached for her phone. He was flying to New York in a couple of hours so she’d probably get him on his mobile en route to the airport. But before she could dial the number her own phone rang.
‘Allyson Jaymes,’ she said.
‘Are you missing me as much as I’m missing you?’ he demanded.
‘More,’ she answered, with a smile. ‘Where are you?’
‘On my way to the airport.’
She groaned. ‘I wish you didn’t have to go. What time’s your flight?’
‘Eleven.’ He paused for a moment, then lowered his voice as he said, ‘Last night was very special.’
‘For me too,’ she whispered. ‘Is there time for me to get to the airport to see you before you go?’
He laughed. ‘I don’t think so. But you could get a later flight and join me in New York.’
‘You know I would if I could. When will you be back?’
‘In ten days. Sooner if I can.’ There was a moment’s pause before he said, ‘Are you going to see your husband?’
Sighing, she nestled the phone into her shoulder as she negotiated the mini-roundabout at the junction of North End and Fulham Roads. ‘I don’t think so,’ she said. ‘At least not yet. I’m not going to have the time with this programme to arrange.’
He said no more on the subject, which didn’t surprise her for when they’d discussed it last night he’d agreed that the decisions she made on her marriage were for her to take alone, especially when their relationship was so new.
They spoke for a while longer, then were forced to ring off when Allyson drove into the multi-storey car park beside the office.
Zac and Justine were already at their desks when she walked in, getting the massive organization of the Italy programme under way. There was no sign of Shelley, which wasn’t a surprise, for she’d left a message on Allyson’s machine to say her mother had had a mild stroke so she was going to be in the New Forest for the next couple of days. Not for a minute did Allyson think Shelley would lie about something like that, even if she did profess to detest her mother, but she couldn’t help wondering if Shelley hadn’t welcomed an excuse to avoid hearing about the trip to Ravello. For her part Allyson could only feel relieved that she wouldn’t have to be constantly aware of Shelley’s sensibilities for a while, though she resolved to call her later to find out how her mother was, and put forward her proposal that Shelley and several others from the team join the party in Italy.
After checking her email, she went back out to the main office to sit with Zac and Justine. They would need to be in each other’s pocket
s during the build-up to this show, and there was a good chance they’d have to rope in a couple more researchers to help them out. She made a mental note to bring that up with Shelley, then after getting Marvin to sort out the processing of her films, she laid out the originals of the copious notes she’d made in Italy which she’d faxed back to the office for Zac and Justie to get on with. They were certainly moving along, but there was still an endless number of details and suggestions that needed to be discussed and before long half the office had managed to join in the planning. It quickly deteriorated into a ludicrous free-for-all, providing a convenient platform for the wits among them, and a great opportunity for those who wanted to toss in holiday memoirs or dream adventures. The party in Ravello was going to be an impossible act to follow, was almost everyone’s opinion, until Zac came up with a brilliant idea that made everyone roar with laughter. It was at that point that Tessa walked into the office to find Allyson in the midst of a hilarious group, and looking so flushed with pleasure that it was impossible to think that her trip to Italy had been anything other than a resounding success.
Turning, Allyson saw Tessa and said, ‘Ah, just the person. We’re talking about doing a programme from Transylvania at the end of April. There’s a convention of vampires.’
Tessa’s face froze. Were they calling her a vampire?
‘What happened to the piece you did on those dolls?’ Allyson said. ‘The ones who belonged to a North London writer? It could be perfect for this programme. Did you ever edit it?’
‘No,’ Tessa said.
‘Well, there’s plenty of time. Just make it good and scary.’
Allyson turned back to the others, and Tessa walked over to her desk. She still felt shaken, even though she knew she’d misunderstood. It was reminding her of when she was at school, and all the times she’d thought she was being laughed at then, even when she wasn’t. But all that was in the past now, it had nothing to do with what was happening here, today, so there was no reason to get upset, or angry with Allyson, especially not when it sounded like the trip to Italy was going to be a lot of fun, and when she, as the presenter, would naturally be at the centre of it all.
Three manically busy days had passed since their return from Ravello and Allyson was close to screaming. She’d barely had a minute to herself, and every time she snatched one out of the chaos and picked up the phone to call Mark, he was either in a meeting, on another line or en route to some other venue in the city. She’d got him once, on his mobile, but the reception had been so bad they’d had to ring off. He’d said he would call her later, at home, but she hadn’t got in until late and there was no message waiting.
Being in almost constant touch with the company publicists who were handling the hotel’s opening extravaganza made her wonder if they were talking to Mark, for their guest list was starting to boast some pretty impressive American names that he could very well be adding. On the other hand, it could be Claudia who was drumming up all the celebrities, since she was the one who ran the cable station and had access to everyone who was anyone in the US showbiz community.
As far as the UK went, since promos for the programme had started to air, she’d been inundated with requests, even bribes, for invitations to the party, so the only problem they were facing on that front was making the decisions on who should or shouldn’t be selected. It was huge fun shuffling some of the overblown egos up and down the guest list and sometimes zapping them altogether, at least for Zac and Justine it was, for Allyson it was turning into nothing short of a nightmare. She was going to have to stop answering her own phone, for it seemed everyone she’d ever known wanted to speak to her now, or see her, or take her to dinner, or invite her to a party of their own.
‘No! No! No!’ she cried, clasping her hands over her ears as Zac and Justine teased her with yet another chorus of unrefusable offers. ‘And if you think it’s so funny …’
‘Allyson! There’s a call over here for you,’ Hayley shouted out. ‘Do you want me to take a message?’
‘No, give it to Zac,’ she answered, and ran into her own office to grab the phone that was ringing there. ‘Allyson Jaymes,’ she said into the receiver, then spun round to hold up a hand to whoever was calling her name. ‘Sorry, who is it?’ she said, blocking her other ear.
‘It’s Bob, your husband,’ he answered.
Allyson’s eyes closed as the world outside her office seemed suddenly to recede and the guilt flowed in. Of all the calls she didn’t want to take right now … ‘Bob,’ she said. ‘You know you’re supposed to …’
‘… speak through your lawyer. I know, and I’m trying, but you’re not being very responsive.’
‘Because I’m really busy at the moment. Listen, I’m sorry. I will get back to you …’
‘Allyson! For Christ’s sake! Is your lawyer giving you my messages? Is she telling you what I want to talk to you about?’
‘Yes, Bob, she’s telling me, but I just don’t have time right now.’
‘I don’t believe this!’ he cried. ‘What can be more important …?’
‘Bob! I have to go. I’m sorry, but I can’t discuss anything until after this next programme’s out of the way.’
‘Surely you can spare a few minutes …’
‘No! It wouldn’t do any good.’ Then, realizing how much this must be hurting him, she said, ‘It’s our marriage we’re going to be talking about, it deserves more than a few minutes, surely.’
He said nothing, and a few seconds later she heard the line go dead.
‘Allyson!’ Justine yelled. ‘Giovanni from the hotel’s on the line, he has to talk to you. Now!’
Allyson went to take the call and almost collided with Shelley, who was about to come into her office.
‘Hi!’ Allyson cried. ‘I thought you weren’t back until tomorrow.’
Shelley’s smile was ironic. ‘I told you that yesterday,’ she said. ‘Go take the call and if you can spare me …’
‘Allyson,’ Zac said, ‘we’ve got a problem with Burt Barry making the charter flight. Can we put him on a scheduled flight later in the day?’
‘Who’s Burt Barry?’ she said, taking the phone Justine was holding out.
‘A member of Test E-Rone, the band for Happy Hour.’
‘Who?’ Allyson cried.
‘I don’t know, something to do with male hormones. Anyway, can we put him on a …’
‘Yes, if he’s one of the interviewees. No to the guests. They either make the charter or they don’t make the party. Hello,’ she said to Giovanni.
She spent the next few minutes jotting down Giovanni’s latest list of instructions and complaints, then zoomed off to find the production manager who was supposed to be organizing the crew, but was outside the scene dock sneaking a quick cigarette.
The rest of the day continued at the same frenetic pace until, at seven thirty, Shelley walked into Allyson’s office and said, ‘I’m going home now. I’ll expect you in an hour for martinis, margaritas or whatever takes your fancy. I’m not in the mood to cook so we can send out.’
‘Oh God, Shell, I’d love …’
‘No arguments,’ Shelley cut in. ‘You’re going to burn yourself out if you don’t take a break, so I’ll see you in an hour,’ and she was gone.
Relieved at being bossed into leaving, Allyson spent the next few minutes reading through the script she’d sketched out for the film insert, then turned off her computer. There were still a couple of researchers at their desks outside, but the place was emptying fast, and the monitors that usually relayed images from the studio, or off-air news, were all silent.
After checking her watch she picked up the phone and dialled Mark’s office number in New York. This was starting to get embarrassing, always being told he was in a meeting or on another call or somewhere else in the city on business. It was as though he was avoiding her, and it wasn’t simple paranoia that was making her think that, it was a suspicion that he was giving her some space to decide what she
wanted to do about Bob. If she was right, then she wished he’d tell her so she’d know for sure what was happening, instead of sitting here having to guess, and trying to stave off the horrible insecurity that was just waiting to put down roots.
The call connected and as the phone at the other end started to ring she began toying with what she would say if she had to leave a message. In fact she rarely did, though the secretary at the other end must surely recognize her voice by now.
‘I’m sorry,’ the secretary said, ‘he left a few minutes ago for a meeting downtown. Can I take a message?’
‘Um …’
‘Is that Carolyn?’
Allyson froze. ‘Uh, no,’ she said. ‘No, it’s … It doesn’t matter. I’ll call again,’ and she quickly rang off.
Of course it didn’t necessarily mean anything. It was only her fragile confidence and hyperactive paranoia making her think the worst, because Carolyn could be anyone. She didn’t have to be the mystery woman he’d taken to France, or anyone else he was either attracted to or involved with. She could be a business acquaintance, an accountant, a lawyer, someone from the bank, or the insurance brokers, the dentist, anywhere … So she wasn’t going to get worked up about this. She was simply going to pack up her things and drive straight over to Shelley’s for an extremely large martini and hopefully some respite from the craziness that seemed to have her under siege right now with no sign of a let-up.
For the fourth time that day Bob picked up the phone and dialled the number of his and Allyson’s flat. If she answered, he’d try again to speak to her, and if he got the machine he’d key in the code to replay her messages, the way he’d been doing all week.
He got the machine.
As he listened to the several different voices the tape had recorded, he could feel himself tensing with the dread that Mark Reiner’s voice would be amongst them again, wondering where Allyson was, and why she wasn’t calling him back. He’d tried her at the office a couple of times, he’d said, but each time she’d been busy on another call and he hadn’t left a message.