A Little Crushed

by Viviane Brentanos

  Expression on robot impassive, arm still around Rebecca’s shoulder, he reached for another brandy. “I thought I was quite restrained.” He raised his glass in a salute. “He’s an arse, but I give him credit for having the guts to show up—after last time.”

  Without another word, Kate turned on her spiked heels and walked away.

  “So what happened last time?” Rebecca elbowed him.

  “Not much.” His sheepish expression didn’t fool her. “Oh, okay then. Ron opened his big, stupid mouth, so I rammed my fist in it. Actually, it was quite impressive, even if I do say so myself. He crashed against a trolley of canapés and then fell backward into the pool. A superhero couldn’t have done a better job. Unfortunately, Kate’s parents were not so impressed. It was their Christmas party I ruined.”

  “Oh.” Rebecca studied him, bemused. “And to think I thought you boring. May I ask what poor Ron did to incur the wrath of the Tasmanian devil?”

  Max winced. “He made some derogatory comment about my being seduced by young, manipulative English girls. Of course, I knew he was only repeating the line Kate had fed him. But that was it—the end for Kate and me. I knew from the way I reacted it was you I loved. Kate knew it, too. I moved out the next day.”

  “Thank you.” Emotion welled in her heart. “I’ve never had a knight in shining armour before.”

  “And now you have one forever.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “And don’t dare cry because I may have to take you home and ravish you.”

  “Ah, there you are.” Peggy strolled up to them. “Mr. Smythe would like a word, Max. I tried to put him off, but he says it’s important.”

  “Fuck it.” Max emptied another glass. “Can’t he leave me in peace for a minute? What the hell do we pay these people for? Sorry, Rebecca. Rain check on the ravishing?”

  “Don’t be so bloody testy.” Peggy warned him. “You are going to have to work with these people. And go easy on the brandy. People are beginning to notice.”

  “Who cares? It’s my party, and I’ll get pissed if I want to, isn’t that right, my darling?”

  “Rebecca, say something.” Peggy turned to her for help. “He’s being very juvenile.”

  “I know.” Gazing up at him, she stood up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “It’s great, isn’t it? I think he’s funny.”

  “See why I love this girl, Peg? All right.” He raised his hands to the ceiling. “I’m coming.” Throwing Rebecca a roguish wink, he followed his assistant into the madding crowd.

  Before Rebecca had time to catch her breath, Max’s mother materialized at her side.

  “Has that silly woman gone? I don’t know what Max ever saw in Kate. Do you know she doesn’t even know the difference between an English and Irish Setter?”

  “Really?” Rebecca chewed on the inside of her mouth to ward off a chuckle. “I mean, that’s terrible.”

  “Do you know?” Green eyes, so like Max’s dazzled her.

  “Well, of course I do. An English Setter is either black and white or liver and white. It’s a much heavier boned dog with a deeper stop and looser jowls. An Irish—”

  “I knew it.”

  Before Rebecca had time to move out of reach, Max’s mother clasped her in a tight squeeze and kissed her cheek. “You are, without doubt, the girl for my Max. He was so right. You are definitely interesting.”

  “I am?” Rebecca wondering what exactly Max had told his mother. Nothing too rude, she hoped.

  “Oh yes. Such a fascinating story. So romantic. It’s a pity about the little dog. Some people can be so cruel. Now Rebecca, can you watch my babies for me? I’ve just spied a woman my husband used to know, and I do mean in the biblical sense. I believe she owes me some jewelry. One more thing, don’t let that Ron Marsden near them. I don’t know if the bastard’s had any of his shots.”

  Rebecca watched, fascinated, as she marched through the crowd and cornered a poor, unsuspecting blonde. Max’s mother was great. “This party is crazier than the Mad Hatter’s.” She turned to see two pairs of soulful eyes staring up at her expectantly. “So, who is Simon, and who is Garfunkel? Great names, by the way.”

  * * * *

  Max shut off from the never-ending platitudes spouting forth from the lips of his father’s personal banker.

  “Please don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything.” The banker gave him what he probably considered to be a manly slap on the back.

  Max gritted his teeth; he’d rather call Attila the Hun than this weaselly little man. “I will, Paul.” God, he’d smiled so much his jaw wanted to crumble. He moved away before the irritating man could launch into another testimony to his father’s good and charitable works.

  “Someone forgot to mention to him that charity, supposedly, begins at home. Please, Miss, can I go home and play now. I’ve done my bit.”

  “Max, I really don’t know what’s got into you.” Peggy shook her head, trying to sound severe, but Max caught the laughter hidden behind her reprimand.

  “Nothing. It’s been quite fun, actually, but now I just want to get out of here. Where is my breathtaking Rebecca? It’s okay, I see her.” Handing Peggy his empty glass, he pushed through the hordes.

  She sat on the floor in the corner, her long, coltish legs curled under her. Hidden behind a pillar, he watched her feed canapés to his mother’s hounds. Simon sprawled across her lap, covering her nice, new frock with a fine coating of white, albeit champion, hairs while Garfunkel, not to be outdone, was busy gnawing at her long-since discarded shoes. His heart swelled in his chest. God did he love this girl. It suddenly became so crystal-clear. Rebecca was all that mattered to him. Nothing else even came close.

  “My mother will kill you.” Max stepped out from his hiding place and crouched down. He lifted the glass of wine out of Simon’s reach. “Are you corrupting her babies?”

  “It worked on you, didn’t it?” She beamed. “Anyway, we’re having fun. They’re much more interesting than half the people here. Besides, they haven’t drunk that much.”

  At this point Garfunkel belched and brought up a nice little pile of partly digested smoked roe pate.

  Rebecca giggled.

  “I’m glad I’m not the cleaner.” Max pulled her to her feet.

  The dogs jumped up, growling, not wanting their fun to end.

  “Excuse me boys, but she is mine.”

  “Are you leaving?” Sissi arrived, looking rather flushed and very pleased with herself. “Why didn’t anyone tell me funerals could be so much fun and so cathartic? At long last, Max, your father finally gave me a good time.”

  “We’re just about to.” Max kissed her cheek. “I’m in danger of getting seriously pissed out of my head, and I can’t have that. I want to get this delectable creature home.”

  His mother remained unfazed. “Call me.” She patted his arm. “And bring Rebecca out to the farm sometime. She must meet Garfunkel’s puppies.”

  “Max!” Rebecca slapped his hand. “You are really naughty.” She giggled as he swung her off her feet before kissing her passionately. “You’re tipsy, aren’t you?”

  “A little,” he admitted, and ignoring the disapproving stares, he kissed her again. “But not enough that I won’t be able to make wild love to you when I get you upstairs. Let’s get out of here.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Max studied the stunned faces of his board members and knew they thought he had gone quite mad.

  His father’s lawyer wiped at his sweat soaked brow. “Have you really thought this through? Are you ready to give up control, all the power?”

  He laughed. “Power? What do I want with power? I’m not my father, and I’ve decided I have no wish to be. Just draw up the necessary papers and have them ready for me to sign by this afternoon. I want to get this over with as quickly as possible. I want to get on with my life. Let’s go, Peg. It’s settled.”

  “You are sure about this, aren’t you, Max?” Peggy followed him from the conference room. “You
can still change your mind. I’ll understand.”

  He stopped and caught her by the shoulders. “I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life, Peg. This is what I want. She is what I want. I won’t risk losing her.”

  * * * *

  Rebecca picked up the remote and idly flicked through the channels, only to turn it off. Was there nowhere in the world safe from TV shopping? She supposed she ought to eat something, but she wasn’t that hungry. Max had been gone since eight a.m., and she missed him like crazy. He’d been in a strange mood, distracted, and that scared her. With the funeral over, it was time for him to step into the real world. They’d talked long into the night about their future. Her future. He wanted her to get her degree.

  “Well, he bloody would, wouldn’t he?” she addressed the tank of exotic tropical fish. The fish looked on, bored.

  “You don’t say much, do you?” She had never understood the fascination in fish. Jack’s stick insects were livelier. Thinking of her brother churned up a huge wave of homesickness. God, she even missed Vicky. And Wally. Poor old Wal. He was probably pining away for her—and her chocolate bars.

  Her mind did a U-turn back to Max. He was so amazing, but then she’d always known that. Sighing, she stretched out on the sofa and folded her arms behind her head. Still, like a pneumatic drill, doubt drilled away at her confidence. In little over a month, the college year would begin. A month was nothing, not when she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. Max, she knew, would play the role of rational adult, although he hadn’t been so grown-up last night. Remembering their crazy lovemaking, she giggled. Of course, he’d been a little drunk, high on brandy and emotion. “Oh, shut up, Rebecca.” Rolling on to her side, she tried to talk herself up. “He isn’t going to abandon you, and even if he makes you go home, Christmas break won’t be far off and—”

  A discreet knock at the door pushed her train of thought off its too winding track. Curious, she went to open it, only to find the blonde with the cheese cutter bob standing there, waving an envelope in her hand.

  “I’m so sorry for disturbing you.” She smiled, so obviously not, her tone sugary with sarcasm. “But the confirmation just came through by email. Please give this to Mr. Jackson as soon as he returns. Enjoy your flight.”

  Rebecca snatched the envelope from the velociraptor talons and slammed the door. Miss Wilde forgotten, her heart skipped a beat, folding in on itself. It could only mean one thing. In a zombie-like trance, she carried the offending article into the bedroom. Pain ripped through her and sat down on the bed. Crumbling up the envelope, she allowed it to slip from her trembling fingers. She swallowed the brick-sized lump in her throat. What could she do? Nothing except pack.

  * * * *

  “Rebecca?”

  She heard the front door close and the sound of metal on metal. His car keys, she imagined. Wiping at her face, she sat up and tried to ease the creases from her clothes. She’d been lying in them for hours so not much luck there.

  Max opened the bedroom door. “Hey, why are you in here, sitting in the dark? Loosening his tie, he crossed to the bed and sprawled out. “What a bloody awful day.” He slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her down next to him, spooning her with his body. “But it just got better. Miss me?” Not waiting for her reply, he kissed her, his fingers playing with her hair. “You taste good…like strawberries and cream.”

  “Please. Stop.” She wriggled free from his too seductive embrace. “You are not helping.”

  Raising himself up on one elbow, he pushed her hair back from her face. “What’s going on, Rebecca? You’re upset.”

  She pushed his hand away. “Come on, Max, what did you expect? Why are you pretending? I’m trying my hardest here. You know—to do the responsible, grown-up thing and accept it.” She wavered, hating the betraying tremor in her voice. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t act the part of sulky brat, but it was hard not to when he studied her, his bemused expression on why are you acting silly? “Look, I know you’re doing this for my own good—ha, ha, joke—but as much as I know you want what you think is right for me, it hurts. It still feels like rejection, and sometimes I hate you for that rational, adult mind of yours.”

  “Rebecca—” Reaching out, he stroked her cheek with the back of his hand.

  “Will you please stop touching me? How can I be mad with you if you keep doing that? You don’t play fair, and let me finish. You always have to have the last word.” She took a gulp of air. “You want to know what hurts most. You couldn’t tell me first. You could have at least let me stay another couple of weeks. I know you’re busy, but I didn’t expect you to be with me all day. A couple of hours would have been fine, and now… I don’t know what this means.” With clenched fists, she wiped away the telltale tears. “Are you sending me away for good? Is this it? Is this all it was? I’m so confused.”

  “That makes two of us, my darling.” Encasing her in his arms, he held her tight. “As used as I am to your ramblings, I’m afraid you have me at a loss.”

  “Don’t you dare laugh at me, or patronize me, or whatever it is you’re doing, and stop kissing me.”

  “But I like kissing you.” Indulgent smile curving his too-enticing lips, he lowered her back down against the pillows. “I am kissing you because I have just figured out why you have reverted to the Rebecca Harding hates Mr. Jackson approach. Would that envelope lying scrunched up on the floor have anything to do with your unwarranted distress? I bet you didn’t even read it, did you?”

  Lips on her neck, he played with her shirt buttons.

  “What’s there to read?” She faltered for two reasons. One, his touch made it a tad hard to concentrate, and two, she had a niggling suspicion she might, in true Rebecca impulsive style, have made a huge mistake.

  “Now, Miss Harding. You disappoint me.” Resting up on one elbow, he reached down to the floor, scooped up the dratted envelope and switched on the bedside lamp. “Did I not instill in you the importance of reading all your notes carefully? It’s so easy to miss something. Open it, please.”

  Feeling about as small as a bug and twice as stupid, she ripped it open.

  “Well?” He lay back, arms folded behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m waiting. Come on. Dazzle me with your brilliance. A quick synopsis will do.”

  “It’s a booking confirmation.” She mumbled, “Quantas Flight No. QF 319. Departing 15:30.”

  “Go on. I am not yet dazzled.”

  “Lead name… Oh.” She let the paper drop to the bed and brought her hands to her mouth. “Oh.” She let out a nervous titter. “Lead name—Mr. M. Jackson. Oops, silly me.”

  “Definitely oops, silly you.” Rolling over, he pinned her to the bed, laughter dancing in his eyes. “Did you really think you could get rid of me so easily?”

  For a second, Rebecca’s reservoir of coherent thought ran dry. “You’re coming back with me? But I don’t understand? I thought you had to be here.”

  “Not anymore.” He slipped his hands under her top and caressed her back. “I don’t want any part of running this company. Rebecca, darling,” he murmured against her hair, “I’m walking away. As of this morning, Peggy is now CEO. It’s all now in her hands, and I’m sure she’ll make a much better job of running it than I ever could.” He chuckled. “Don’t look so shocked. I told you. You are all that matters to me, and I won’t risk losing you.”

  Rebecca reeled. “You did this for me?”

  “I did it for us. I’m not cut out to be a tycoon, and you, my love, are not ready to be a tycoon’s wife. I wouldn’t want you to be. I love you as you are. I don’t want this life here, Rebecca. I want simplicity. I want to live in a little cottage somewhere down a muddy country lane. I want to make love to you by an open log fire every night and not just when my schedule can fit you in, if you pardon the pun. I don’t want to have to share you with this world. I want us to be happy—me, you, and my friend, Wally. I only want to be with you. Nothing else is important.�
��

  “Oh, Max,” she took his face in her hands and covered him with kisses, laughing and crying at the same time, “I-I don’t know what to say.”

  “Now there’s a first.” He raised his eyes to the heavens. “Thank you, God. At last, I have silenced the incorrigible Rebecca Harding, but one more thing, no more discussion about quitting college.”

  “Done.” She couldn’t stop kissing him. “I’ll be the best student in the university. I’ll take six degree courses as long as I can come home to you every night.”

  “In that case,” reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small, blue velvet box, “I suppose I’d better give you this now. I was going to wait until we were on Fiji, which is where we are going for two weeks, but then if you’d bothered to read on further, you would know that. Anyway, I hope it doesn’t offend your tomboy sensibilities, but I really would be honoured if you would accept this obscenely exorbitant ring.” He flipped open the lid.

  Speechless, Rebecca gaped at the exquisite diamond and gold band glittering in the glow of the bedside lamp.

  “Now, I am trusting my mother on this.” He took her trembling hand and slipped it on her finger. “She told me you would love it. She says it’s the only classy thing my father ever gave her, and she wants you to have it. So, it’s official. You are now the future Mrs. Jackson. Does that sound okay to you?”

  Cupping her face in his hands, he kissed her. His lips trembled against hers, and she knew he was overcome by emotion.

  “I think I can live with that.” She clung to him, breath sliced from her lungs.

  “And now, tell me. How do you feel about colonials now?”

  “I feel that they are so worth loving, and I will love you forever.”

  About the Author

  I was born in Reading UK in 1958. My father is English, and my mother is French. I was educated at various schools before completing Sixth Form College at St Peter’s Huntingdon. I somehow managed to collect A levels in English, French, and History, and I subsequently won a place at Sheffield University where I decided to read Classical Civilization. In 1984, my first husband and I parted ways amicably, and I decided to visit the Ionian island of Corfu to celebrate my new freedom. It proved to be a life-changing decision. I decided that there was more to me than being a mother and wife (although, I hasten to add, it is a worthy assignment.) In 2004, I finally got my head down and began to write seriously. Writing has become my passion. I have always been a "Romantic", often accused of not living in the real world, but who wants to do that? I like to call my work Romance with a quirky, humorous Brit twist, and I am always striving to make my characters real, characters we can all relate to. I hope you all enjoy my world.