by Nina Milne
On impulse he turned towards the abbey, made his way through the throng of people and headed for a place of cool walls and sanctuary. A place to look at the architecture, think of history and seek assuagement of the emotional turmoil that thoughts of Claudia still evoked five years since her death.
As he approached the imposing grandeur of the sandstone spires, touched by the orange rays of the setting sun, a flash of pink distracted him. A woman stood irresolute in the courtyard—a woman clad in a pink bunny suit. Not the usual garb for a visit to the abbey.
In the shadow of the abbey walls he could see her serious expression, her enormous hazel eyes filled with doubt, a straight nose, generous mouth. Glossy chestnut hair topped by pink bunny ears fell in a sleek curtain to her shoulders.
As if deciding to abandon her plan for entry, she turned and recognition jolted his brain. He wasn’t sure why—who was she?
Her gaze met his in a fleeting skim; he saw an answering recognition and then she ducked her head and made to step past him. Just as memory kicked in.
‘Gabby?’ She’d been in the year below him and Claudia at high school.
For a moment he thought she’d deny it, and then she gave a small reluctant nod. ‘Yes. I’m surprised you remember me.’
The memory came back. A young Zander, seventeen years old, walking down the school corridor as a tall slim girl with glossy chestnut hair came towards him, a pile of books clutched to her chest. As she’d passed, the books had cascaded to the floor and he’d automatically bent down to pick them up. He’d recognised the title of one, more from familiarity than an ability to decipher the words, but at least he’d seen the film.
They’d engaged in a conversation. He’d played the cool kid, one who didn’t bother with books because films were way better, and she’d been so earnest in her disagreement that he could still recall her expression. Then Claudia had suddenly appeared. He’d later found out she had been alerted by a ‘well-wishing friend’. Within seconds the chestnut-haired girl had been graciously dismissed and Zander had been swept away.
His attempts at remonstrance had been met with a shake of the head.
Dropped her books by accident? Don’t be stupid, Zan. That girl—Gabby Johnson—likes you. I know I’ve got nothing to worry about, but she’s a bit of a dark horse. No one knows much about her except that she lives with her grandparents. I just wanted her to know you’re taken.
In the here and now, he decided there was little point in reliving the details. ‘I do,’ he settled for saying. ‘So, how have you been?’
‘Fine. I’m sorry about Claudia.’ The words were simple but sincere, and, to his relief, she left it at that. No intrusive questions or additional sympathy.
‘Thank you.’
‘Right, well. Nice to see you again. I’ll leave you to go in.’
As she moved forward, a piece of paper fluttered from her hand and she looked down at it, made to reach for it and then clearly recalled that she was wearing a bunny suit.
‘We must stop meeting like this.’ Zander squatted down and rose. He handed her the paper, his gaze inadvertently taking in the words. Challenge No. 8. The penny dropped. ‘Hen party?’
‘No,’ she said, deadpan. ‘I usually parade around Bath dressed like this.’
‘Lucky Bath.’ OK. That was not what he had meant to say. But somewhere between his brain and his mouth, that was what had come out.
Gabby stared at him. ‘No. Not lucky Bath—and definitely not lucky me. Would you like to parade the streets dressed like this? Or the male equivalent, whatever that is. How about in a pair of tighty-whities?’
There was a silence as they both contemplated the scenario. Her face turned pink and her look of appraisal morphed into one of confusion. ‘And bunny ears,’ she added.
‘Probably not many women’s fantasy.’ Another vocal miscue. ‘Not, of course, that a bunny suit features in my fantasies. At all.’ And that was worse. It was obvious that it had been a long time since he’d interacted socially with a woman. Time for a subject change. ‘Anyway—did you manage the challenge?’
‘Nope. Not yet. I thought I’d come to the abbey and have a bit of time out...maybe come up with a strategy. Or even some courage would do. But I don’t feel comfortable going in dressed like this. It doesn’t seem right. Plus I’m nearly out of time, so I’d better get going.’
‘Maybe I can help?’
This caused her to pause. ‘Why would you want to help?’
‘I’m a nice guy. I wouldn’t like you to fail a challenge. Old times’ sake. Take your pick. So, what is the challenge?’
Reluctance warred with the hope on her face.
‘I need to get a photo of myself kissing a h—a...a stranger.’
Ah. This was what happened when you started a social interaction with a woman dressed in a bunny suit. Not that it was a problem; a simple peck on the cheek and they could both go their separate ways. Yet his awareness of her ratcheted up. His gaze skimmed the smattering of freckles on the bridge of her nose, the impossible density and length of her eyelashes, the glossy lushness of those kissable lips.
Stop. What was the matter with him? He quite simply didn’t look at women like this—hadn’t done since Claudia. The sooner he got this over with the better.
‘OK. I’ll help. I know we aren’t technically strangers, but it’s close enough.’
Uncertainty touched her features and then she expelled a sigh. ‘OK. Let’s get it over with.’
Despite the echo of his own sentiment, he felt irrational chagrin touch him.
As if she sensed his reaction, she reached out and touched his arm. ‘Sorry. That came out wrong. This is just a highly embarrassing situation for me. I’m a university librarian. An introvert. Being dressed like this... Asking someone to kiss me for a selfie is... I feel like an idiot. That’s what I meant. But what I should have said is thank you—I really appreciate this.’
‘No worries—and it’s not a big deal. Where shall we pose?’
They moved to the side of the entrance.
‘Here is fine.’ Reaching into her small clutch bag, she pulled out her phone. ‘OK. I’m ready.’
Zander leant forward and aimed for her cheek, ridiculously aware of her elusive flower scent, the smoothness of her skin and the glint of the chestnut sheen of her hair. Then at the last second she moved slightly, presumably in an attempt to position the shot, and instead of her cheek, his lips brushed hers.
Of course the right thing to do—the sensible action, the gentlemanly option—would have been to draw back. But that didn’t happen. Instead he froze, caught in a sudden surge of sensation, tantalised, yearning, preternaturally aware.
Gabby drew in the slightest of breaths, and that triggered something else. Did he pull her forward? Did she step towards him? He didn’t know and it didn’t matter. Because all he could think about was the imperative need to deepen the kiss.
Her lips were soft, pliant against his, and somehow—impossibly—it felt as though they were the only two beings bathed in the last rays of sunshine that hazed around them and added magic to the ambience. Strands of desire twined together into a knot of longing in his gut as Gabby gave a small moan, pressed against him, looped her hands round his waist.
Until the spell was broken as a teenager jostled them, then jumped back with an embarrassed muttered apology.
Gabby, too, moved backwards in a jerky movement, hazel eyes wide in shock, her breathing fast. ‘I... I...’
But clearly speech had deserted her, and without another word she spun round and walked away, her pace rapid. For a moment he opened his mouth to call her back—and then closed it again.
Bad idea. Bad move. Since Claudia’s death Zander had eschewed the whole dating scene for a reason. Too complex. Too confusing. Too complicated. Just like that kiss had been.
And so he stood still
and watched Gabby walk away.
CHAPTER TWO
GABBY HAD NEVER been so glad to see Monday morning arrive, and as soon as she entered the university library the world felt a better place. The feeling was further enhanced by the fact that she was dressed in cropped navy trousers and a cream blouse, her hair caught up in a ponytail, without so much as a vestige of pink, let alone any bunny motifs, in sight. Even better, she was surrounded by the familiar dense quiet of her workplace—a blanket of calm after the neon pink of the weekend.
Sure, she’d enjoyed herself, but it had been overwhelming, as well. The fact she didn’t really know the other women very well but they knew each other had been an eerie reminder of her early life. As a child she had always been the outsider looking in—too shy, too awkward, too scared to try to join in. Cliques and friendship groups had formed and she’d missed the boat.
But those days were behind her, and as she walked towards her office, the library environment offered a comforting mix of technology and history, computers mingled with shelves of books—all enough to propel the weekend into the dim and dark recess of her memory.
Well, most of it anyway.
It would take a while before that kiss ceased to haunt her—days later she’d swear her lips still tingled. Ironically, the only physical evidence that the kiss had even happened—the sole picture she’d managed to take—had come out so blurry as to be useless. On her way back to the party she’d entered an upmarket fashion store, located a mannequin and he’d been her ‘hot stranger’. If only she’d thought of that earlier.
However, even if she had snapped That Kiss, and had the guts to display it, she’d have been disqualified anyway—kissing your teenage hero probably didn’t count as a ‘hot stranger’.
Back in high school she had liked Zander Grosvenor—but not because of his looks or his rebellious cool kid image or even his prowess on the sporting field. It had never occurred to her that she could have a chance with him and that had been fine with her. Admiration from afar had suited her, because perversely she’d liked him because of his evident loyalty to his girlfriend. True, Claudia had been one of the prettiest, most popular girls in school but nonetheless...he had never so much as glanced at anyone else.
And she’d admired that; the traits she still valued were loyalty and trust. So she hadn’t acknowledged that her interest in him was a crush, even though his presence had always brought on her nerves and she’d had to fight the impulse to try to ‘accidentally’ be wherever he was. The one time she had genuinely bumped into him by mistake had been so nerve-racking she’d dropped her books and actually had a conversation with him.
Enough. That was the dim and distant past and now she needed to banish Zander Grosvenor from her mind—and her lips, for that matter. At twenty-nine she was way too old to crush on anyone, let alone a man like the one Zander had become. Rich, successful...not her type at all. Time to focus on work.
Her day was divided between a reclassification project, a stint on the front desk and work on an online course she was putting together to help students access relevant information—more than enough to absorb her attention. So, apart from the occasional memory lapse to Planet Kiss, she was on her way back to ‘Gabby as normal’. Enough so that at the end of the day she was able to close down her computer and look forward to a quiet evening at home.
The actual library was still open, and as she walked through the book-lined area she exchanged pleasantries with a few of the students. She stopped at one of the tables to pick up a couple of books that had been left, turned—and her sandal-clad feet screeched to a halt. Surely it couldn’t be...? Zander Grosvenor? Her imagination must be messing with her head.
But then, there he was.
‘Hi, Gabby.’
‘Zander,’ she said, and her voice echoed as hollow as her tummy.
For an insane second Gabby considered a dive beneath the table—though what she hoped that would achieve she had no idea. She needed to remember that she was no longer a cowering three-year-old, caught up in her mother’s chaotic lifestyle, nor even a scared nine-year-old, terrified she would be taken from her grandparents. Back then, hiding had been her go-to strategy and she’d built dens wherever she could, cocooned herself away from the world.
But it really was not an option in the present situation, so she forced herself to stand tall and face him. Unfortunately, that necessitated looking at him, and her hormones did a flip before standing at attention.
Today Zander was suited and booted—the suit a faintly pinstriped charcoal grey, the shirt a pristine white. The whole ensemble epitomised wealth and success and a wow factor she really could do without. Dark blonde hair, just a little bit too long, blue-grey eyes that pierced...and suddenly the vast library seemed to shrink around her.
Eventually she located her vocal cords. ‘What a surprise. Were you looking for me?’ Please let this be some strange coincidence.
‘Yes. You mentioned you worked as a university librarian—I did a bit of research and here I am.’
It occurred to her that despite the suave suit, he was uncomfortable; something in his expression indicated that the expensive shirt felt constrictive round his throat and the square jaw held a hint of tension.
‘So, how can I help?’
‘I was wondering if...if you’d have dinner with me.’
For a moment she couldn’t hold back the instinct to smile. She felt a bubble of anticipation at the idea that their encounter had sparked this—a desire to follow up. Though something warned her that her reaction was misplaced and she dialled down the smile—an instinct justified by his next words.
‘I’ve got a business proposition I want to discuss.’
Of course. How foolish of her to think it could be anything else. She could only hope he hadn’t clocked her initial response. Especially idiotic because even if he had asked her on a date she would have refused. Zander was not her type—in so much as she had a type...which she didn’t. But in the unlikely event that she ever figured out love and relationships she’d want someone ordinary, and Zander wasn’t that. Being with Zander would be too much—too intense. He was too gorgeous, too rich, too successful...just too everything.
‘You need a librarian?’ Could he have a collection of books that needed cataloguing? It seemed unlikely.
‘Nope.’ He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘It’s complicated.’
The word should have her running for the sanctuary of her apartment. Gabby was a big fan of simplicity. Yet curiosity surfaced—what on earth could he have in mind? Hesitation stretched the silence and then she shrugged. After all, the point was that this wasn’t a date—this was business.
So... ‘OK. I’m intrigued. Dinner sounds good.’
‘Great. Are you finished or shall we meet somewhere later?’
‘I’m good to go.’
* * *
As they exited the university, Zander wondered if he had completely lost every vestige of common sense. Sitting at his desk earlier he had thought his idea made perfect sense, verging on genius. The problem was now he’d seen Gabby again he’d remembered the major flaw in the whole concept. In a nutshell—the Attraction Factor. One second in her presence was all it had taken for any ideas of business to desert him at supersonic speed. To be replaced by a near-overwhelming urge to cross the room and try for a repeat of that kiss.
But now, out in the fresh dusk-laden air, he sought perspective. Reminded himself that the attraction wasn’t a problem as long as he didn’t act on it.
‘I thought we’d eat at Lothario’s.’
One of Bath’s most prestigious restaurants, it would provide a persuasive backdrop to explain his proposition. Yet she didn’t look impressed; in fact she didn’t even look enthusiastic.
‘Unless you’d prefer somewhere else?’
‘Actually, I would rather go somewhere more low-key, if that’s OK with
you.’
‘Sure.’ So much for the dazzling-her-into-acceptance plan.
‘There’s a really good pizza place not far from here. How about we go there?’
Ten minutes later they entered a small cosy Italian restaurant from which wafted out the tantalising aroma of tomato, garlic and a hint of oregano. Most of the tables were occupied with an eclectic mix of diners, and the low-lit room exuded a lively ambience without being loud. The tables were a mixture of sizes and shapes and were cheerfully hung with red tablecloths. The chefs tossed pizza bases into the air with verve and pizzazz.
A waiter stepped forward, led them to a table without fuss and left them with a smile and the menus.
Gabby gave hers a perfunctory glance and placed it on the table. ‘I already know what I’m having,’ she explained. ‘Artichokes, capers, goat’s cheese and olives. I always have that.’
‘Always?’
‘Yup. I don’t eat out often, so I like to know for sure that I’ll enjoy it.’
‘But maybe you could swap something out? Have extra mozzarella instead of capers? Ham instead of artichokes? Or why not try the special? You may find something you like better.’
Zander stopped at the sight of Gabby’s frown. For Pete’s sake. What was wrong with him? The answer was not one he liked: discomfort. This was the first time he’d gone out with a woman since Claudia’s death and he was assailed by an onslaught of nerves.
Zander hauled in a breath, reminded himself that this was a business dinner and it was time to put things on to that footing. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so didactic. Especially over pizza toppings.’
‘Apology accepted.’
Zander checked the menu, focused on the words and realised the irony of his own criticism. As a child, restaurants had been a nightmare for him—unable to decode the menus, he had simply pointed randomly to items with a varied degree of success. Or requested a staple generic dish that he knew would be on the menu.