by Di Jones
“She doesn’t need to worry, because I’m pretty sure Guy pities me.”
Tina looked at her in amazement. “Why on earth would he pity you?”
“I’ve embarrassed myself in front of him a couple of times.”
“He hasn’t held it against you, or you wouldn’t be here. Guy doesn’t suffer fools gladly. Whatever you did, he still likes you.”
To her relief, Ann rejoined them. She liked Tina, but wasn’t ready to confide.
“Tina,” said Ann, “I want to introduce you to someone from the Australian Consulate. Want to come with us, Holly?”
“Thanks, but I want to have a look around. I’ll find you later.”
She walked back through the living room to a second patio beyond, wrapped around a lap pool. Lush greenery and exotic plants she’d seen in gardening magazines, but couldn’t name, reflected back in the aqua water. The tropical oasis was enclosed by high walls, and a benevolent stone Buddha presided over the space.
“You look thoughtful,” said Guy from behind her.
“This is like a spa. I’d never go to work if I lived here.”
He laughed out loud. “You’re very refreshing. Most people wouldn’t dare say that to the boss.”
“Not that I don’t love my job, of course,” she said quickly. “Do you have a gardener?” she asked to change the subject. “The grounds are immaculate.”
“Yes, he comes in twice a week. Have you seen the flowers?” he asked. “I’ve had enough of the party for awhile,” he said, winking conspiratorially. “Come with me.”
She followed him through a gap in the wall and onto a lawn as fine as a sea of dense cotton threads.
“Do you mind if I take my shoes off?” she asked.
Guy looked at her solemnly. “That’s the only sensible thing anyone’s asked me all night.”
She kicked her shoes off and they walked over the emerald carpet of cool, soft grass.
“Sarah planted the flower beds, and the gardener tends them as if they’re his own children.”
“They’re beautiful. You never see flowers like this in England.”
“Birds of paradise. The white flowers are gardenias, which give the garden its scent.”
He gestured towards a wooden bench, overhung by a majestic shade tree. “Let’s sit down and have a break from the party. Okay with you?”
“Yes, it’s lovely out here.”
“It’s nice to have you at the Consulate, Holly. You’re a breath of fresh air.”
She blushed. “Thanks. Our first meetings were, ah…”
“Unorthodox,” he finished, laughing. “You certainly know how to get attention.”
“Not always the best kind of attention. I always fancied I was sophisticated but I’ve left that part of me back in London.”
“I wouldn’t worry. This city’s too sophisticated for its own good,” he said, and a warm band of pleasure moved up her body. “There’s lots of good people here, but it’s hard to get past their veneers.” He paused, then added softly, “The women are beautiful but it’s hard to judge what’s inside. It’s a minefield for a single man.”
“Must be hard when you’re grieving,” she said tentatively.
“Yes, it is hard. My wife died three years ago but it feels like a lifetime has passed.” His eyes shone with pain. “My friends tell me I should be dating again.”
She twined her fingers together to stop herself from reaching out and touching him. “You have to be ready.”
“You’re right. Is there anyone special in your life?” he asked easily, and she sensed he was glad the conversation had shifted off him.
“No one special. No one at all.”
He nodded, then leant in towards her, the fresh scent of his aftershave enticing her closer. Her heart was racing, and her body trembled. Would he kiss her? Could she be that lucky? Maybe not, but she was happy to be alone with him and savour this intimate moment.
He took her hand in his and as he moved towards her she parted her lips. He traced them with his finger, his touch as light as a feather. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, and cupped her chin in his hand. His lips brushed hers softly and when she yielded his tongue searched for hers.
She kissed him back with a vigour which surprised her, then drew away and looked into his eyes. They were dark pools of longing and as he pulled her back towards him she knew he felt the same way she did.
“Holly Oakwood, you taste wonderful.” His mouth sought hers again and this time his tongue caressed hers with the familiarity of a lover. A searing heat moved from her chest down her belly to the secret place between her legs, and she responded ravenously.
“Guy, I’ve been looking for you.” A voice rang out across the grass.
“I’ve been showing Holly the gardens,” said Guy smoothly.
A figure strode towards them, frame taut with anger.
Holly jumped up from the bench, rearranging her hair. “I think I’ll go back inside,” she said and fled back to the party, leaving Guy to deal with Brittany’s jealousy.
TWENTY-THREE
Guy
Guy broke the silence. “What do you want, Brittany?”
“Your guests are asking for you.”
He sighed and shook his head. “I know, but I’m tired, and wanted to relax for a minute.”
“You certainly looked relaxed.”
Her tone was that of an angry wife, and the muscles in his neck tightened. “I think I deserve to relax at a party in my own home.”
He could sense the thinly veiled control in Brittany’s demeanour, and when she spoke again, the pitch of her voice was notched higher. “I know you’re tired and stressed but I’m disappointed you’d let Holly drag you away from the party.”
“Holly didn’t drag me away from the party. I invited her to walk in the garden with me. Look, I rely on you in the office and trust your judgement, but this is my personal life.”
“Yes, and–”
“My personal life’s off limits.”
Hurt clouded her eyes and her chin trembled. For the first time since he’d known her, she was showing a vulnerable streak. “I thought we were friends,” she said stiffly.
He sighed. “We are. Go back to the party. I’ll join you shortly.”
She nodded and walked away, but the hard set of her shoulders told him she was close to breaking down.
He sat back on the bench and massaged his forehead between his thumb and index finger, contemplating the mess he’d made of the situation. He’d have to sort things out with both of them. Taking a deep breath, he got up and went back to the party. Neither woman was anywhere to be seen and before he could search for them he was pulled into a conversation with a group of guests.
“What do you make of it, Guy?” asked a client.
“Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.” Why couldn’t he concentrate instead of wondering where Holly was?
“The decision by the Chilean trade officials,” repeated the client, looking at him expectantly.
He wished he had something of value to say, wished he had anything to say. “Yes, it’s a complex issue. Not sure where I stand.” Everyone was looking at him strangely, but he didn’t care. “Excuse me please, there’s something I have to attend to.”
He moved to where Ann and Tina were chatting with a group of people, and tapped Ann on the arm. “Have you seen Holly?”
She scrunched up her nose as she considered. “Haven’t seen her for ages. Last time I saw her she was talking to Tina.”
“Brittany?”
“She’s around somewhere. From the way she stomped past I’d say she’s in a terrible mood. By the way, a guest called Olivia’s looking for you.”
“My sister-in-law. Thanks, I’ll go look for her.”
A moment later he found her and kissed her on both cheeks. “Olivia, glad you came. Warren with you?”
“No, he sent his apologies.”
“Sorry he couldn’t make it.” The lie slid out easily, but no p
oint in hurting his sister-in-law’s feelings. “But you’re here, that’s the main thing.”
“Lovely party, I’ve been floating around talking to people.”
“Yes, it’s a good turn out, isn’t it?”
“I saw you across the garden, talking with a young woman.”
Damn and blast. Sarah had been gone for several years, but he didn’t want Olivia to find out he was ready to move on by seeing him kiss Holly. Much better to see how things went with her, and then introduce the two women. “That’s Holly.”
“She looked familiar,” said Olivia hesitantly. “I think I’ve met her before.” She avoided eye contact, and he knew she’d seen their kiss.
“Unlikely you’ve met her. She only arrived in LA at the beginning of the year.”
“Where’s she from?”
“London. She’s a Kiwi, but she’s been living there for years.”
“What sort of accent does she have?”
“That’s an odd question. More British than anything I’d say. Why?”
“You sure she isn’t American?”
“Of course I’m sure. Why all these questions?”
“Just wanted to establish if it was the same person I met. Couldn’t have been her, but they could be twins.” She changed the subject abruptly, and flooded with relief, he decided to stay away from Holly, until Olivia left the party.
TWENTY-FOUR
Holly
In the days since Guy had kissed her, Holly had been on an emotional roller coaster. Despite Brittany’s jealously and her disappointment that Guy hadn’t sought her out again at the party, she’d floated home in a happy daze. She’d spent the next two days waiting impatiently for the weekend to finish so she could see him at the office, despite logic telling her he would’ve phoned if she meant anything to him.
Maybe he didn’t know her phone number? He could have rung and got it from Ann.
Maybe Ann had been out when Guy called for her number? All weekend? Yeah right.
Maybe he’d called Brittany and she’d refused to give it to him? Possible, but not likely. He was the boss after all.
Maybe he hadn’t called because he was busy?
More likely he hadn’t called because he didn’t want to.
She arrived at the office early Monday morning, hollow eyed and nervous, determined to keep out of Brittany’s way, but keen to see Guy. His office though, was empty. An early starter, she would have expected him to be in by now. Deflated, she shuffled to the kitchen to make coffee.
“Good morning, you’re in unusually early,” said Brittany cheerfully. “You OK? You look washed out.”
“I’m fine. Tired.” She stirred her coffee, and tried to leave the kitchen, but Brittany was blocking the doorway.
“Did you enjoy the party?”
“Yes, it was lovely,” she said nonchalantly. “You?”
“Yes, I did, but I feel sorry for Guy. He’s tired and stressed from all the travelling, and I’m sure he would’ve preferred a quiet weekend.”
“I didn’t get the impression he’s stressed. He seemed very chilled. Almost horizontal.”
Brittany’s eyes bulged in anger. “That’s why he was knocking the booze back. He was exhausted. He rang me on Sunday to say he was hung over and could barely remember the party. He was supposed to come in to work today before leaving for Santiago, but said he didn’t want to.”
Dismay shrouded her body and her tongue thickened in her mouth. She sipped her coffee, but it tasted bitter. “I noticed he wasn’t here.” She looked down at the floor, avoiding eye contact. “I was hoping to see him, to thank him for the party.”
“I speak to him every day when he’s away. I’ll tell him thanks from you.”
Holly shuffled back to her office, shoulders hunched and feet dragging. She wished she’d stayed at home too, then she wouldn’t have learnt the mortifying fact that Guy hadn’t been sober when he kissed her. How could she have imagined it was a special moment? Was she the reason he hadn’t come to work today?
She closed her office door, collapsed into a chair and put her head on the desk, trying to make sense of things. Guy obviously wanted to put some distance between them and keep things on a professional footing. By the time he came back from South America the scene in the garden would be all but forgotten. She pushed herself back up from the desktop, dabbed her eyes with a tissue and swivelled in the chair, to stare sightlessly out of the window. Perspective, that’s what she needed. If she could get over a relationship with Tom she could get over one kiss with Guy Cutler.
“I tried, but I told you it’d be impossible,” she said defiantly to Brittany later that week.
“What do you mean you tried?” asked Brittany with a stony expression. “Who did you speak to?”
“Three buyers. Two from small independent stores and one from a mid-sized national chain.”
Brittany shook her head in disgust. “LA has more sportsgoods buyers than anywhere else on the West Coast. Make some more phone calls.”
“I rang ten, only three rang me back, and none of them were interested. One of them actually laughed, and they all said no one would buy them.”
“Your job’s to persuade and sell. Surely you could have managed that with at least one of them?”
Holly gritted her teeth. Was Brittany stupid or something? Would she order a two-legged sleeping bag if she was a buyer? “Why don’t you try then, if you’re so sure people will buy them?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“If you think these sleeping bags are brilliant, why don’t you try and sell them?”
“Because I’m in charge of this place and I’m run off my feet with Guy away.” Brittany’s upper lip curled. “When he phoned last night he said he’s relying on me this week. You need to try again, Holly, because I don’t have time to do your job for you.”
After Brittany left she sat at her desk chewing the end of her pencil and staring out of the window miserably. To her right downtown LA rose from the surrounding suburbs like a cactus thriving in an arid desert. She viewed it dispassionately and wished she was back in London, rather than here in LA on a Friday night, feeling miserable, confused and lonely. She should’ve gone to Santa Barbara with Charlie and Tessa for the weekend, instead of staying home alone, to brood over Tom and Guy.
“Nothing to go home to?” asked Brittany.
“I, er, want to finish this other report.” She waved at the papers on her desk, hoping Brittany wouldn’t ask why it hadn’t been finished earlier in the week.
“Must go,” Brittany said brightly, “I have to rush to the airport.”
Jealousy and curiosity bubbled up in equal measures, but she bit her tongue. She wouldn’t give Brittany the satisfaction of asking because it was obvious she was picking up Guy, who was returning from Santiago tonight. “Have a nice weekend,” she said, struggling to sound disinterested. “See you Monday.”
“Oh, don’t worry, I will.”
“Bye, Holly, have a nice weekend.” Tina’s cheerful voice called out from the hallway.
“Bye,” she called back, struggling to sound upbeat. She picked up the report listlessly. Two or three more hours on this and she’d be able to come back to a clean desk on Monday morning. She drew the back of her hand across her eyes, then focused on the paragraph she’d been working on.
The doorbell chimed. Tina must have left something behind, and didn’t have her key to get back in.
“Coming,” she yelled. “Hang on a minute.” She struggled to release the bolt on the heavy door. “I need to join a gym,” she said in a tone of disgust. “I always have trouble with this.”
She straightened up and threw the door open, to find herself staring straight into the eyes of her ex.
TWENTY-FIVE
Holly
She regarded Tom warily over a table in an unpretentious Italian restaurant in the beach suburb of Venice. Tantalising smells emanated from the kitchen, and candles flickered on the tables.
“Ho
lly, this is crazy. I love you. We’re made for each other. Don’t ruin the rest of our lives over one mistake.”
She glared at him. “It wasn’t a mistake, it was a total betrayal. I lost my boyfriend and best friend in one night.”
“You haven’t lost me. I want you to come back to London. I’ll do anything to make things right.”
His expression was anxious, and she could see his confidence evaporating. She knew he’d expected her to be a pushover, hardly surprising given the way she’d reacted to his phone call, but now she wanted to make him jump through hoops.
She signalled the waiter, while Tom rapped on the tabletop with his lighter. She’d given it to him for their first anniversary and it’d cost a fortune, but she knew he’d love it. She couldn’t see it in this light, but knew the engraving on it by heart. You light my fire. All their friends said it was corny, but Tom loved it, and that was all that mattered.
“What do I need to do?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I’m confused.” The waiter arrived with a basket of bread sticks and she tore the cellophane off one with her teeth, snapped the bread stick in two, and took a bite.
“Confused about what?” Tom asked in a belligerent voice.
“You seem to be blowing hot and cold.”
“What does that mean? I’ve flown all the way over here, haven’t I?”
“Yes, but I haven’t heard from you since you called a month ago.”
“What’s the problem?” Tom looked at her with an expression approaching distrust. “Have you met someone else?”
“No, there’s no one else. I’m unhappy and I’d be lying if I didn’t say I missed you, but I don’t know if I can ever trust you again.” She bit into the bread stick with gusto.
“Give me a second chance. Come home with me.”
“I don’t know.”
“Everyone’s missing you. You know you belong back in London with me.” He scored the lighter across the table for emphasis. “I’m not going back without you, Holly.”