Falling for Mr. Unexpected

by Inge Saunders

  Nomsa was truly one of those women who had natural grace and beauty—plainly spoken, effortless. How she could even ask such a question was beyond Emma. Her black, strapless dress clung in the right places and showed off her hourglass figure to perfection.

  “You look amazing.”

  Nomsa did a little flick of her hair. “Thank you. You don’t look so bad yourself.”

  “You!” Emma gasped.

  Nomsa laughed, then sobered up. “Are you sure you don’t want him for yourself?”

  Emma took her friend’s hand in hers. “I’m sure. He’s not my exception.”

  “Ah. You will never forgive me for making you watch He’s Just Not That Into You. And the movie is based on a book in my defense.”

  “You know I enjoyed it, but myself and self-help books are not friends. Give me fiction any day.”

  Nomsa gave her a hug instead. “You know I love you, right?”

  Emma smiled. “I do. And I love you too, my friend.”

  “So if I say something you won’t like, you won’t hold it against me?”

  Emma frowned. “Spit it out, Nomsa.”

  “Um…well I think you made a mistake. You still like him.” Nomsa closed her eyes as if a bomb was about to go off and Emma laughed.

  She hadn’t told Nomsa she had actually fallen so hard for Damian she was a hundred percent sure she still loved him.

  “So not what I expected.”

  “I’m sorry if I’ve been a bit sore-footed about Damian. No pun intended,” she added. “And it will take time, but eventually he’ll be a memory.”

  She turned back to the mirror.

  “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it is life goes on.” Emma picked up her clutch bag for the evening. “Come. Richard will be here soon.”

  Emma didn’t want to go, but both of them insisted. Nomsa because she was scared of blind dates and Richard because he felt bad for her.

  She had told Richard everything that had happened with her and Damian and how she felt about Damian. After a long pause he said he asked her because he was interested in her, but he wasn’t willing to play someone’s replacement. He had joked about where he would find another date so last minute and she suggested Nomsa.

  It wasn’t such a hard sell; he had met Nomsa before.

  Then Stephanie called a couple of days later, and said she wanted her there at the charity gala. She insisted she needed the support. And Emma had agreed.

  She had already bought a dress and packed it away, thinking she wouldn’t have an opportunity to wear it soon. And now she could, she said she would come and another ticket had been organized for her. She wouldn’t be near Nomsa and Richard, though.

  Richard arrived with a bouquet of red roses for Nomsa and yellow for Emma.

  “You shouldn’t have,” both of them said at the same time and they all laughed.

  She placed them in vases and then they were ready to leave. The charity gala was held in one of the local tennis club’s main halls. As they went in, Emma gestured to Richard and Nomsa they could go on without her. They were seated at different tables anyway, plus she wanted to find Stephanie, see how she was doing.

  Her sister had been a busy bee.

  “Make sure you serve the first course at the appropriate time, no sooner no later.” Stephanie gave final instructions.

  “Hey.” Emma touched her arm from behind, and Stephanie spun around, seeming harassed.

  “Oh you came!” she said like it wasn’t a possibility.

  Emma smiled. “Of course, I did. Everything is wonderful. You did a great job.”

  The hall had already filled with people, and more were arriving.

  “Let’s hope we make as much money as we anticipated!”

  Stephanie got accosted by someone who frantically spoke to her like something had gone wrong or would in a few minutes. Emma left her sister to it; she would be in the way.

  She inspected the number on her ticket and frowned.

  Her table was at the front of the room, one of the best at the charity. As she passed through the throng of guests, she smiled all around. When she got to the table, there were still two empty seats. She took one of them and greeted everyone.

  She didn’t know any of them, but she did notice them giving her sideway glances; they probably recognized her from the papers. One woman actually whispered loudly to her partner.

  “Isn’t she the girl who was engaged to Damian Davidson?”

  Emma cringed at the engaged part.

  She sat between the empty chair and a man who seemed vaguely familiar like he could be a Member of Parliament she had seen on television commenting on the government’s health policies. When he said something about the Democratic Alliance leader, Helen Zille, she knew she had guessed right. But his talk of politics made her wish he would engage his date for the evening and not her.

  The hall was nearly full, all the seats almost occupied. She glanced at the one next to her. It didn’t seem to her like whoever’s seat it was, would be rocking up.

  Suddenly there was a stir at the door and almost everyone turned to get a glimpse.

  But Emma couldn’t see a thing. She was stationed at the front table after all and way too short to even crane her neck to see over people’s heads, so she contented herself to wait to spot who enamored everyone else.

  She took a sip from her fresh water glass and smiled at a passing waiter, who gave her a wink. What?

  Then everyone at her table fell silent. She assumed the evening was about to start, so she didn’t bother to investigate what caused the drop in conversation until the Member of Parliament next to her coughed and cleared his throat. She turned then, and her eyes jumped out of their sockets.

  Emma’s heart started to thump loudly in her ears, and if she had been connected to hospital machines, they would have thought she was in distress. She started to bite the inside of her mouth.

  It’s Damian.

  He had caused the stir at the door. He was the one doing a lazy stroll to their table, with his famous smile to those around him, even raising his hand to greet some who called out to him.

  Damian dressed in black tie, shiny black shoes, and his hair styled neatly, like the movie star he was, and he was heading straight for her.

  Her stomach flipped. Is he heading towards me? I’m being presumptuous.

  When he was close enough for her to make out his expression, she picked up her water glass and gulped it down, causing water to go down her windpipe. The Member of Parliament obliged by knocking her lungs out.

  “Are you okay?” Damian asked in a velvety baritone.

  This time Emma needed air because of him. She inhaled and then exhaled. “Water. Windpipe,” she blurted out.

  Damian pulled his chair out and sat down after she had sufficiently spoken.

  Everyone else at the table voiced their concern for her and said how glad she should be the Member of Parliament was there to help her.

  “A nasty way to go! Nasty,” the Member of Parliament said, like he had personal experience of such a death.

  She held her napkin to her mouth, glad she had something to hide behind.

  They hadn’t said anything else to each other.

  After the incident, the evening started in earnest and Emma had to concentrate to follow everything happening on stage. The speeches, awards, and then finally the charity fundraising started as bidding “wars” ensued over donated art in the form of sculptures, paintings, and writings. Contributions had also been made before the event, which would be tallied up at the end of the formal proceedings of the evening.

  Her brain kept getting stuck on one question. What is he doing here, and what if I find out? She wasn’t so sure she wanted to know.

  “We would like to thank Damian Davidson for his contribution of five hundred thousand rands!” the master of ceremonies said, and everyone applauded and she followed suit. “His generous donation has ensured we reach our goal, but also exceed our goal of raising one mil
lion rands for breast cancer.”

  Emma blinked. So the charity is for breast cancer. Stephanie had always been a champion for the cause after their aunt had died of the disease and she was glad she could be part of something so important, even if in a small way.

  Emma passionately showed her appreciation, by cheering along with the other guests. She was proud of what her sister had accomplished.

  “And now I would like to end off by saying, enjoy the rest of your evening!” The master of ceremonies closed the formal part of the evening off and everyone enthusiastically put their hands together.

  Emma viewed this as her cue to go hide in the restroom.

  “If you would excuse me,” Emma said to no one in particular and then quickly got out of her chair and literally ran out of the hall.

  She asked an attendant where the ladies’ restrooms were and quickly made her way to it. Inside she leaned against the door, and then she moved to the sink.

  It was empty; everyone was still in the hall. At the sink she stared in the mirror at her flushed cheeks. Even her ears were red. She didn’t love the hair-on-the-one-side idea now.

  Emma kept her hands under the cold-water tap; she let it flow till her fingers were stiff from the icy stream, and then she held her hands to her cheeks and forehead. She took a breath and stared into her brown eyes. Fear and confusion stared back at her, but also yearning and longing.

  But most of all, a desperate need for him and, because of that, when she headed back inside the hall, she would fetch her bag and hightail it out of there.

  She was about to take a hand towel from the rail when the door burst open and he stood like an aberration from her worst nightmare. He stepped inside without a word and then closed the door.

  “Damian….”

  He held up a hand. A click sounded as he locked the door.

  Her heart started to pound violently in her chest.

  “Now.” He walked slowly toward her, and she couldn’t move away; she stood with her back toward the sink. “I still want you.”

  He pinned her with his stare and his body.

  Emma couldn’t even look around him, afraid she would give herself away. She frowned and decided anger was her friend. Either that or jump the man.

  “You didn’t call or anything.” She spoke before he could.

  His brow lifted. “Did you want me to?”

  He got her there. “My point is…it’s over.”

  He raised his hand to cup her face.

  She bit her lip, still not meeting his eyes.

  “I won’t call this over.” He bent down achingly slowly and brushed his lips against hers. “Or this.” He deepened the kiss to the point where she had—willingly or unwillingly, it didn’t matter—grabbed a hold of his jacket and pulled him to herself.

  He pulled back when the kiss ended and said, “There are some things you can’t disguise.”

  “Please…don’t make it harder than it should be.” Her voice sounded needy to her ears. She couldn’t hide anything from him even though she tried.

  “I know I’ve said this. But I am sorry. Sorry for telling a lie when I didn’t have to.” He put both his hands on the side of her face, and she met his charged gaze. “I hadn’t realized then, even if you said no, you didn’t want to come with me, I still would have come after you. I would have showed you the real Damian. Not the one the media likes to portray.”

  She didn’t know what to say. Her heart was sore in places she didn’t even know existed.

  “I would still be here now, trying to convince you what had been, still is between us and will never be over.”

  She couldn’t turn away from the honesty in his eyes; it was too much to ignore, too hard to pretend it wasn’t there.

  “Then why now? Why are you here now?” She needed to know why he hadn’t come after her in the weeks after. Why he hadn’t called? Why there had been absolutely nothing?

  He rubbed her cheek.

  “Stephanie told me to give you time.” He smiled at her surprise. “She had been convinced you needed time to get perspective. I recommitted myself to the movie. So I had to finish it. And I wanted to handle the scandal this time. I didn’t want you to get caught in the middle of everything.”

  She frowned. “And Lizle?”

  “There has never been a Lizle.”

  She stared at the top button of his shirt. “I’m not Lizle.”

  “I know.”

  She searched for words to explain, “No, I mean I don’t….”

  “I know. You two are nothing alike. You don’t lie and deceive to get your way. I phoned your mother, too.”

  Her eyes went wide. He had distracted her from what she wanted to say.

  “I apologized for lying to her. I told her the real story, and she has placed me under probation.”

  She smiled. “No wonder she didn’t want me to come with Richard.”

  “What?”

  “Never mind. What I wanted to say before you interrupted me.” She took a deep breath. “I’m not like Lizle.”

  When he wanted to speak again she put her hand over his mouth, stretching and standing on her toes.

  “Like I said, I’m not like Lizle, I’m not a sleeping-around person….period.”

  He frowned at her, and appeared comical with her hand over his mouth. She removed her hand when he mumbled against it.

  “I know; it’s why I didn’t push you.” He still didn’t seem to fully comprehend what she meant.

  She cleared her throat. “I’m a virgin, Damian.”

  A frown appeared between his eyes. “Really?”

  She gave a short, nervous laugh. “Really.”

  His brow lifted. “You don’t kiss like one.”

  “And how’s a virgin supposed to kiss?”

  He shrugged. “I haven’t kissed one since high school. Can’t remember.”

  He truly seemed confused. Tears streamed down her face as she leaned into his chest laughing.

  It wasn’t even funny, but she hadn’t truly found anything amusing since LA and she couldn’t stop the dam when it finally broke.

  He rubbed her back and also joined in. “I guess I can’t say that anymore.”

  She laughed harder. Then she finally calmed down, and wiped the tears from her eyes.

  “I wanted to make sure we were on the same page.” She sobered up a bit. “I’m not Hollywood.” She knew he understood what she meant. She would never conform to the Hollywood lifestyle where everyone’s “darling.”

  “I don’t want Hollywood. I want you.” He placed a soft kiss on her lips.

  Emma absently noted she hadn’t pushed him away from her since their first kiss. If Damian was smart, he would have known the battle was already won.

  “Aren’t you supposed to say, I’m your true north or something?”

  “You’re my true north or something,” he said against her mouth.

  “Or I’m just a girl standing in front of a boy?” Her sight became hazy.

  “I’m just a girl standing in front of a boy.” His kiss fell skew as she laughed.

  “There’s something wrong with that sentence,” she whispered and then he gave her one of his devastating kisses with her holding on for dear life.

  After a while he asked, “Am I forgiven?”

  She viewed him through lazy eyes. “I can’t even remember what you did.”

  He chuckled.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Emma slowly opened her eyes, when something tickled her nose. As her vision cleared, she noticed a crisp red rose in front of her.

  She frowned, as she took in the hand holding it, and then up at the face now close so hers.

  “Good morning.”

  “Good morning.” She smiled at Damian. He had a breakfast tray in one hand and the rose in the other. He handed it over to her, and she smelled it.

  “Coffee and a muffin for you. Coffee, bacon and eggs, brown toast, and yogurt for me.”

  Every day of their honeymoon, he
had made her breakfast in bed. They were in Strand at the beach house after telling everyone they would be going to some exotic island where no one would find them.

  Stephanie hadn’t liked the idea, but conceded it was their honeymoon. And they were headed for the island, but Damian first wanted them to spend a holiday at the beach house they had missed out on before they went off to their “real” honeymoon.

  After she took her first sip of coffee, she moved over to him as he slipped in bed next to her.

  “I’m so stoked by the fact I get to do this,” she said and gave him a bone-crushing kiss. “All the time, whenever I want.”

  He laughed. “I think you’re excited about the coffee.”

  “Okay, a little of both.”

  This time he planted a kiss on her. She leaned in closer and the kiss deepened.

  “At this rate we won’t get to breakfast.” His voice was breathy.

  She gave him a sly smile. “I’m already getting to breakfast.”

  They kissed again, and he broke their heated exchange. “Wait.” He pulled away. “I have something to say to you.”

  She gave a mental sigh. They were starting to get to the good stuff. And then he spoke, staring at her earnestly.

  “I’ve never had a hero complex…but I would develop one. I’ve never chased after a woman, but here I am. I’ve never changed or rather re-changed my mind, my heart, my life like I have since I met you. Like you, I haven’t been here before…. I’ve never fallen in love with someone before. I’ve never had to take a risk. Not because I was afraid, but because I didn’t care enough, never loved enough. But I do now.”

  She was confused. “What?”

  A grin broke out on his face. “That’s what I practiced to say the night at the charity gala, but when I saw you, all the words left me.”

  She made a strangled sound. “And at the wedding?”

  “It seemed a little too late. And you already said yes…so.” He shrugged.

  “Then why now?”

  “Because I didn’t want you to go through your life not knowing how I felt.”

  She put her coffee mug down on the bedside table, and then stared at him.

  “You are strangely, wonderfully, and magnificently intense!”