A Very Single Woman

by Caroline Anderson

  She looked at him, catching a yearning expression in his eyes, and realised that he was lonely. ‘You miss her, don’t you?’ she said softly, and he nodded.

  ‘I miss having someone to share everything with. That was one of the worst things about it, losing the person I bounced ideas off and shared silly little moments with. I used to go home after work and tell her all the crazy things that had happened. Going home to an empty house with Sam—that was the hardest part.’

  He fell silent, but then after a moment he started to speak again. ‘It seems such a long time ago now. I suppose we’re used to it, but there’ll always be something missing.’ He gave Helen a thoughtful look. ‘Tell me about you,’ he said gently. ‘Why are you so sure there won’t be anybody for you?’

  Helen gave a soft huff of laughter. ‘Because I don’t believe in happy ever after,’ she said, not hearing the wistful note in her voice.

  ‘You should,’ he said with conviction. ‘Believe me, it can happen. Sue and I were just two ordinary people, but we had a fantastic marriage. Mind you, we worked at it. It wasn’t always that good. I found it difficult at first, but in the end Sue taught me to show my feelings and open up more, and after that we went from strength to strength. We hardly needed to talk, we just seemed to be able to anticipate what the other one wanted.’

  ‘You were very lucky,’ Helen said, conscious of a little pang of envy. ‘Believe me, that’s very rare. Anyway, men like you are as rare as hens’ teeth. The vast majority lie and cheat and sleep around.’

  Nick gave her a searching look, and she wondered if she’d sounded as bitter to him as she did to herself. ‘I take it you’re speaking from experience?’ he murmured.

  She gave a quiet snort. ‘You could say that. My father, for instance—he was hardly a good role model, and since then…’ She fell silent, but Nick wasn’t going to leave it alone.

  ‘Tell me,’ he prompted softly.

  Helen shrugged. ‘There’s nothing much to tell. It’s the same old story. I fell for a man, he lied to me and I only found out when I met his wife.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ His arm came round her and he gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze.

  ‘It’s OK. It was a long time ago now, but I’m not in a hurry to repeat the experience.’

  ‘Well, if it’s any help, you know I’m not married,’ he said with a fleeting smile.

  No, he wasn’t, he was just in love with his dead wife, and there was no way she could compete with that. She got to her feet.

  ‘Can we go?’ she said, suddenly in a hurry to get away.

  He stood up, brushing the dust off his seat, and gave her crooked grin. ‘Running away?’ he murmured, but she ignored him and turned away, walking quickly back towards the pub. He followed her slowly, rejoining her beside the car a few minutes later.

  Helen was standing gazing out over the water, her arms wrapped around her waist, hanging onto her control. He was getting under her skin, weakening her resolve, and she was suddenly scared that she was going to fall for him and be hurt all over again.

  She heard the dull clunk of the central locking, and got into the car, fastening her seat belt with a defiant click.

  He drove her back in silence, but instead of returning her to the surgery, he drove to his house.

  ‘Where are we going?’ she demanded as they passed the surgery entrance.

  ‘I would have thought it was obvious,’ he said mildly.

  ‘But I want to go back to the surgery,’ she protested, panic rising in her.

  ‘No, we need to finish this conversation,’ he told her with quiet resolve, ‘and we can do it here in comfort and privacy.’

  Finishing the conversation was absolutely the last thing she needed, but there was no point in arguing with him. He’d made up his mind, and she sensed there would be no changing it until he’d had his say.

  With a resigned sigh she got out of the car and followed him into the house.

  She was running scared, Nick thought. She looked wary, avoiding his eye, holding herself a little aloof. A bit of him felt guilty for hijacking her, but somehow he couldn’t help himself. It seemed so sad for her to be so alone and so unhappy—because she was unhappy, he could tell. He knew all about it. He’d had plenty of experience and practice.

  He went into the kitchen and put on the coffee-machine. ‘Fancy a glass of wine or brandy?’ he asked her, but she shook her head.

  ‘No, thanks. I’m all right.’

  Helen was far from all right, but that was a completely separate issue. He poured himself a small brandy, found the chocolate mints and ushered her through into the sitting room. She went to her usual chair, kicking off her shoes and curling her feet up under her bottom. She looked at him defiantly, and he gave an inward sigh.

  ‘Don’t look at me like that,’ he said with gentle reproach. ‘I only want to talk to you.’ He sat on the sofa and patted the cushion beside him. ‘Come here,’ he ordered softly.

  For a moment she didn’t move, but then she unravelled those wonderful legs and crossed the room, curling up at the other end of the sofa, out of reach. She was like the wary, shy little cat his mother had owned once, desperate for affection but hardly daring to come close enough to allow it. He would just have to be patient, but it wasn’t in his nature.

  He sipped his brandy and rested his head back against the sofa. ‘So, how’s it going?’ he asked. ‘The job, I mean.’

  She stared at him in surprise, her eyes puzzled, then she gave a little shrug. ‘OK, I think. I’m enjoying only doing part time, especially at the moment with the cottage to sort out.’

  ‘How are they all getting on in there? Is it plastered yet?’

  ‘No, the plasterer comes tomorrow. Hopefully it’ll start to look a bit better then.’

  ‘You’re doing wonders in the garden,’ he told her. ‘I looked over the fence when I got home from work tonight, and I could see from the size of the compost heap how hard you’ve been working. Don’t wear yourself out.’

  ‘Don’t worry—I won’t. Anyway, you’re only worried because you don’t want to have to do my job as well as yours.’

  Nick chuckled. ‘Too right. It took long enough to find you, I’m not going to let you knock yourself up now.’

  He rolled his head back against the sofa again, closed his eyes and sighed. ‘I must say, it’s a great relief to have you on the team. Did I tell you, by the way, that Lawrence is back on Monday?’

  ‘Julia told me. You must be glad. You can hand back all the admin.’

  ‘What a blissful thought. I can hardly wait.’ He took another sip of brandy, and put his glass down, turning half towards Helen. ‘So, this bastard who screwed your life up,’ he said evenly. ‘Tell me about him.’ He watched her withdraw, pulling herself in tighter, and then she dragged in a shaky breath and looked down into her glass.

  ‘I met him through a work colleague. He was charming, quite ordinary but somehow different. He made me feel special.’

  The words were said with a trace of bitterness, and Nick wanted to kill the man. He bit the inside of his cheek to hold back a vicious retort and concentrated on his brandy, giving her time.

  ‘We had an affair. He said he loved me. We were going to get married once his mother died. She was elderly, frail, very clingy. He couldn’t upset her.’

  ‘So you never went to his house.’

  She looked up at him, as if she was surprised he was there. ‘No. I never went to his house. Of course not. Then I went to a party held by a friend. Not really a friend,’ she explained, ‘just someone on the fringes of my circle. I still don’t know why, unless it was because she knew and thought it was time I did. Anyway, I got chatting to a woman there, a pleasant woman who talked about her husband and children as if they were the centre of her world, and then Tony came into the room and she turned to him with a smile and introduced him to me.

  “‘This is my husband,” she said, and she was so proud of him, but all I could think was, He’s my Ton
y, the man who loves me but can’t take me home because he lives with his sick and elderly mother. Tony, the man who would marry me when his mother died, which she would do soon, but he couldn’t shock her by telling her about me—my Tony, only he wasn’t mine, because he was Jan’s, and Jan loved him, and he probably didn’t even have a mother.’

  Helen floundered to a halt, and Nick reached out and put a warm, comforting hand on her bare foot, hitched up on the cushion beside him. It was icy cold, and she looked shocked. Poor girl, he thought. Poor, poor girl. What a bastard.

  He hoped Tony didn’t have a mother, because no mother deserved to see her beloved son turn into such a rat.

  ‘So what did you do?’ he asked.

  ‘Do?’ She looked at him, glazed. ‘Nothing. I smiled politely, and made excuses to leave the party, and I drove home. I don’t quite know how. Then he rang me, came round, pleaded and crawled and grovelled, but it didn’t work. It wouldn’t. I knew by then that he was just like my father, and all I could think about was Jan and the children—especially the children. I never saw him again.’

  Nick rubbed her foot gently, soothingly, and after a moment she glanced up and gave him a crooked smile. ‘So there you have it. The story of my life. Well, my gullible folly, anyway.’ She drained her glass, the brandy making her eyes water slightly.

  ‘The coffee will be done by now,’ he said, his voice a little gruff. ‘Are you sure you don’t want one?’

  ‘I will, actually,’ she relented. ‘Just a small one.’

  ‘Stay there,’ he ordered. ‘I’ll fetch it.’

  It was ready, the tray was laid, but Nick stayed out there for a moment, his head resting back against the wall, struggling with a mixture of anger and overwhelming pity.

  How could he do that to her? Lie to her like that, cheat her of her emotional security? Cheat him, because he knew now that he would have a hell of a battle on his hands to defeat that much pain and hurt. He’d known pain, but not the pain of betrayal. Sue had always loved him unreservedly, and he’d trusted her, and her him. Helen would probably never trust again.

  He shrugged away from the wall and picked up the tray, his mouth a grim line. Lighten up, he told himself. Enough nitty-gritty.

  When he came back from the kitchen Helen was nibbling on one of the chocolate mints, and he put the tray down on the floor by the sofa and took one of the mints from the cushion in between them and put it in his mouth, crunching it twice before swallowing it.

  ‘You’re supposed to savour them,’ she told him, but he just gave her a crooked smile.

  ‘They aren’t even a mouthful,’ he pointed out, willingly allowing her to sidetrack him.

  ‘You’re just not a connoisseur, are you?’ she said with a chuckle. ‘You’re meant to suck them. You can dunk them in your coffee as well. They’re nice like that, too.’

  ‘Disgusting,’ he said, pulling a face, but he wasn’t really serious. ‘Chocolate biscuits, yes, but mints? They just melt and fall in the coffee.’

  ‘Ah, but only if you leave them in there for too long. With practice, you can get it just right.’

  He couldn’t hide the smile. It was such a silly conversation, and as it went on he could tell she was relaxing. Not much. Not really. The slightest word out of place, and he knew that her wariness would be back in spades. He picked up a mint, dipped it in his coffee and held it out to her.

  ‘Open wide,’ he said, and she opened her mouth and he put it in, his fingers brushing her lips as he did so.

  Heat flared in her eyes, and her breath seemed to catch. His certainly did. The need raced through him again like an express train, and with a short sigh he put his coffee down, moved the box of chocolates and removed her mug from her hand.

  ‘Come here,’ he said gruffly, and drew her into his arms.

  She came without argument, her body turning so that she lay across his lap, her head resting on the arm of the sofa, looking up at him. Her shirt was gaping slightly between her breasts, and he could see a small peep of lace on the edge of her bra. He almost groaned aloud. His hand trembling, he threaded his fingers through her hair and sifted it. It was like silk, falling in a soft curtain from his fingertips, and with an uneven sigh he bent his head and took her mouth with his.

  She parted her lips, and Nick took instant advantage, deepening the kiss. She moaned softly and arched against him, and he could feel the soft press of her breasts against his pounding heart. Unable to resist, he slid his hand up under the edge of her blouse and cupped her breast. A shudder ran through her, and he found the catch of her bra and released it. The warm, soft weight of her spilled into his hand, her nipple peaking against his palm, and he lifted the fabric aside and lowered his mouth to suckle her.

  She cried out, awash with sensation, and he eased his mouth away, laying a soft trail of kisses over the smooth skin of her midriff. He covered her again, returning to her mouth and kissing it gently, tenderly, bringing her slowly back to earth.

  He didn’t want to hurry her, do too much too soon, because she would only hate him for it later and he didn’t want that. This love-shy, beautiful woman was worth waiting for, and he would wait for as long as it took to win her and teach her to trust again—even if it killed him.

  His kisses changed, gentling, becoming tender and soothing instead of white-hot, and gradually Helen’s heart slowed and the ache eased.

  She lay there in his arms for a while, and then he dropped a kiss on her hair and lifted his head.

  ‘Time for bed, princess,’ he said softly. ‘I’ll take you home.’

  She didn’t want to go, but she knew it made sense. This was just her hormones talking, and she could deal with them. She’d been ignoring them very successfully for years.

  She stood up, realising as she did so that her bra was undone. Colouring softly, she refastened it and straightened her blouse, slipped her shoes on and ran her hands through her hair.

  ‘I must look a wreck,’ she muttered, but he shook his head and smiled.

  ‘You look lovely,’ he said gruffly, and heat rocketed through her again.

  He drove her home, saw her in and kissed her lightly on the lips, then left her. She got ready for bed and slipped between the covers, lying there thinking about their conversation. She hadn’t meant to tell him about Tony, not really, but now she had, perhaps he’d be able to understand her better.

  Although maybe not. Her words may have warned him off, but her body hadn’t. She thought back to their kiss, to her response to his gentle love-making, and felt the heat wash over her once more. Without words, they’d both said plenty.

  It wasn’t the answer she’d meant to give him, though, not the answer she’d wanted him to have. It was just her body talking. Her heart was too battered to get involved again, to risk another foray into loving. Would Nick understand that from her sorry, sordid little tale?

  She hoped so because, despite the enthusiasm of her body, she really meant it. And yet that wasn’t the impression she’d given at all, she realised, heat flooding her at the memory of their kisses.

  Betrayed by her own emotions, she turned her face into the pillow and groaned. She hadn’t meant to do that, hadn’t meant to fall for the lure again. It didn’t fit in with her plans.

  She rolled onto her back and stared at the darkened ceiling. Did it really matter, though? Just because she had no intention of getting married or becoming involved in a serious relationship with a man, it didn’t preclude her from enjoying a little light flirtation from time to time, and after all, for heaven’s sake, he’d only kissed her!

  She rolled onto her side, thumped the pillow and refused to think about it any further. It was just a kiss. Nothing more. Hardly anything at all. After what she’d said, he’d have to be a fool to misread it.

  Wouldn’t he?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  HELEN woke on Friday morning feeling far from refreshed. Her night had been full of restless images, and the main feature in her picture-show strolled into the sur
gery at eight o’clock, looking cool and relaxed and altogether too delicious. Nick’s eyes searched her face, gentle humour lurking in the depths of them, and his smile was slightly teasing. However, Julia was there, so he said nothing beyond, ‘Good morning, Dr Moore.’

  ‘Good morning yourself,’ she said a little grumpily.

  ‘Didn’t you sleep well?’ he asked, the smile playing around his mouth.

  ‘I slept very well,’ she said with a saccharine smile. ‘How about you?’

  ‘Oh, I slept like a log,’ he said, and then added in a murmur, ‘Except for the dreams.’

  She felt herself colour softly, and turned away to hide her smile. She was conscious of Julia in the background answering the phone, definitely within earshot, and she headed for the door hastily.

  ‘Fancy a drink of something before we start?’ she threw over her shoulder, as much as anything to get him and his teasing mouth out of Reception before he said anything else, and he nodded and followed her.

  ‘Tea or coffee?’ she asked, but he just smiled and drew her into his arms.

  ‘I’ll settle for a kiss,’ he murmured, and claimed her lips.

  She pushed him away with a breathless laugh and turned to the kettle. ‘Repeat, tea or coffee?’

  ‘Coffee.’ She heard the scrape of the chair behind her as he settled himself at the table, and then the rattle of a magazine.

  She plonked the coffee down on top of the magazine and sat down opposite him. He peered at her from under his eyebrows. ‘Was that a hint?’ he asked with a quirk of his lips.

  ‘Whatever gave you that idea?’ she asked, struggling to hide her smile. Damn, she didn’t want to seem too pleased to see him, even if she was.

  ‘I can’t imagine.’ He picked up the coffee, folded up the magazine and put it one side. ‘So, how are you?’ he asked softly.

  ‘Tired,’ she said frankly. ‘It must have been all the coffee I had last night, keeping me awake.’