‘I’m alone,’ Kev repeated, interrupting his thoughts. ‘My housemate had a last-minute invitation for something better than staying at home. For goodness sake, Charlie. Relax!’
Relax? How could he! The whole reason he’d diverted his homeward journey was to tackle Kev about her anonymous phone call to Willow at the library.
‘She won’t suddenly show up?’ he asked, glancing nervously at the front door.
‘Unlikely.’ Kev moved closer to him. ‘Have you missed me?’ she asked throatily.
Charlie caught the tone in her voice and did a double take. He recognised that look in Kev’s eyes. She was coming on to him. And yes, he had missed her, which annoyed him. But he wasn’t going to fall back into the trap of being putty in her hands.
‘Look, Kev–’
‘Oh yes, do look,’ Kev purred, letting her dressing gown slip off her shoulders and drop to the floor. ‘Look all you like.’
Charlie tried not to be aroused. He was immediately let down by the one-eyed trouser snake writhing into action.
‘That’s new,’ he said, trying to divert Kev’s attention away from his erection.
He pointed to the blue butterfly on her left thigh.
‘Do you like it?’
‘Very pretty,’ he said, as Kev stepped closer and pressed her body against his hardness.
He let out an involuntary groan before sternly telling himself that he needed to focus on the real reason why he was here.
‘Kev, I need to ask you a question, but you might not like it.’
She reached for the buckle on his belt.
‘What?’
He grabbed her hands, forcing her to stop what she was doing and listen to him.
‘Did you anonymously phone Willow at the library and tell her to leave me?’
Kev shook Charlie’s hands off and carried on unbuckling his belt.
‘Did you?’ he repeated.
‘No.’
‘I’m not sure I believe you.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
‘I can’t have you playing silly buggers. It’s not fair on Willow.’
‘Nothing to do with me,’ said Kev.
The belt came away from Charlie’s trousers, and Kev slapped it playfully against the palm of her hand.
‘Tell me the truth,’ Charlie persisted.
‘I have told you the truth. This conversation is starting to bore me, darling.’
A wicked gleam had appeared in her eyes. This time she slapped the belt against him.
Charlie decided to take Kev’s denial with a pinch of salt. The important thing was he’d alerted her. She knew that he knew what she’d done. And now he’d warned her off. He didn’t think Kev would be quite so brazen as to try a stunt like that again. But there was just one more thing he needed to point out.
‘Even though I’m unexpectedly here, this doesn’t change things. You haven’t forgotten that we’re not really seeing each other, right?’
‘Of course I haven’t forgotten,’ she said.
Hell, if she wanted to summon Charlie again, she’d simply post another letter to the universe. Easy-peasy. Slapping him again with the belt, Kev gave him her most seductive look.
‘I have chocolate body paint in my bedroom. Remember how it was last time?’
Charlie did, and he nodded. This was what he loved about Kev. The slight kinkiness. Her willingness for sexy adventure. Even though Willow had been game with the whippy cream, it wasn’t the sort of fun she’d instigate. But Kev… well, she was something else. Whippy cream, chocolate, belts, boots, champagne in the hollow of her stomach… she was up for anything and everything. And so was his treacherous todger.
‘I need a shower first,’ he said hoarsely.
‘Not a problem,’ said Kev, grinning in delight. ‘I’ll have one with you.’
Flicking him again with the belt, she shooed him up the stairs.
Oh, she was going to have such a lovely time tonight. Things had worked out perfectly. She had the house all to herself, and Charlie couldn’t go home to Willow. Not at this hour. And whilst Charlie might have reminded her that their relationship was currently a non-relationship, Kev knew otherwise. She was sooo looking forward to Charlie properly snuggling down under her duvet. And this time she was going to take loads of photographs. Of him. Of her. And of the two of them together.
Just because she could.
Forty-Nine
Willow pushed the spatula around the frying pan, turning the rashers of bacon over before expertly flipping the eggs. She tossed some mushrooms and tomatoes into another pan and quietly hummed as she jiggled the contents about.
She’d anticipated Charlie and Ben being home Sunday evening. Consequently she’d planned on enjoying a quiet afternoon by herself, maybe giving herself a manicure and pedicure, before snuggling down on the sofa with a TV dinner. Instead Charlie had turned up at noon. He’d looked tired and seemed on edge. He’d also smelt faintly of chocolate.
‘Darling!’ she’d exclaimed. ‘How lovely. I wasn’t expecting you back until much later and… oh–’
She’d broken off as Charlie had shut the front door.
‘Where’s Ben?’
Charlie had shrugged and made vague noises about Ben popping over to see Anna.
‘House discussions, or something,’ he’d lied.
Willow hadn’t questioned it because she knew that Ben and Anna’s split would involve lots of necessary talks. But before she could even fling her arms around Charlie for a welcome home hug, he’d darted up the stairs and locked himself in the bathroom.
‘I was just going to cook myself some bacon and egg,’ Willow had called up. ‘Would you like some too?’
‘Please,’ Charlie had replied.
Moments later, Willow had heard a bath being run. Strange. Usually Charlie had a morning shower. Perhaps he’d felt hot and sticky and wanted a warm soak after being cooped up in the car on the long drive back from Birmingham.
Stooping to pick up his abandoned holdall, Willow had been surprised when Charlie had erupted out of the bathroom, belted down the stairs and snatched the bag from her.
‘I’ll deal with that,’ he’d yelped.
‘I don’t mind unpacking for you,’ Willow had assured.
‘Thanks, but I’ll do it.’
And as he’d hurtled back up the stairs clutching the holdall to his chest, she’d caught another peculiar whiff of chocolate.
Dismissing it, she turned her attention to cooking the impromptu meal. The aroma of bacon filled the kitchen and, as the eggs gave a couple of spits and spats, she found her thoughts straying back to Noah.
Willow had got quite a shock when Emma had swivelled her mobile round so that Willow had come “virtually” face-to-face with her best friend’s twin. She could hear Noah’s voice now. Such a husky sexy Australian drawl. And those eyes! They’d definitely had the twinkle-factor and seemed to convey any number of possibilities for flirty mischief and fun. Or was she being fanciful?
If all my sister’s friends are as good looking as you, I have even more reason to visit England.
She grinned stupidly at the hissing bacon. In three months, she’d meet Noah properly. How exciting.
And why is the prospect of meeting your bestie’s twin so thrilling? asked the little voice in her head.
Well, because it’s wonderful for Emma, of course – Willow hastily replied – and I’m delighted for her. That’s all.
Hm, said the little voice.
Willow ignored it and instead turned her attention to the overhead cupboard. Baked beans. She was sure there was a tin in there somewhere. Ah, there it was.
Peeling back the lid, she concentrated on spooning the beans into a saucepan, doing her best to blot out the image of Noah’s handsome face. Somehow his image had branded itself on her brain.
Meanwhile, as Willow absent-mindedly stirred the beans, Charlie immersed himself in a very deep bubble bath.
Despite showering at Kev’s, h
e was convinced he still stank of chocolate. Heaven knows what was in that stuff, but it was pungent. He realised that in the space of eighteen hours he’d been to bed with two different women and lathered himself in soap four times. At this rate he’d wash all the natural oils out of his skin. Or his willy. Or both. God, he’d end up like a prune. Perhaps his willy would shrivel up like a raisin. At least if that happened, he’d never again be able to impregnate a woman.
He gulped and reached for Willow’s sponge. The reverse side was an exfoliator. He had a sudden desire to scrub himself. Hard. As if to wash away the events of last night.
And this morning, his brain added.
He closed his eyes, trying to blot out the memory. This morning, all he’d wanted was a cup of tea. But Kev, having used up the chocolate body paint the night before, had ransacked the kitchen larder.
‘Ta-da!’ she’d trilled, holding up a jar of hazelnut spread.
She’d then smeared the stuff over her breasts, draped her body across the kitchen table and demanded Charlie take her. He didn’t think he’d ever again be able to look at a jar of hazelnut spread without thinking of Kev’s nipples impersonating two gigantic chocolate buttons.
But Charlie hadn’t been able to relax. Not properly. He’d been terrified of Kev’s house companion turning up. It was all very well for Kev who, he suspected, no longer gave two hoots about Willow finding out. He also believed that getting caught gave the sex extra edge for Kev. She’d certainly made a racket upon climaxing. Charlie had shocked himself by faking it. He’d pulled out and, for the second time that weekend, hurriedly put on his boxers back to front all the while asking himself what the heck he was doing? Was he some sort of adrenalin junkie getting his rocks off in as short a time as possible with as many women up for it? Or was he a sex addict? He’d heard about such people. They couldn’t get enough of it. Apparently they thought about sex all day long. While one part of their brain was busy at work plotting a million-pound deal, the other was planning a grapple in the board room with the CEO’s personal assistant.
You’re neither of those things, said the little voice in his head.
Oh – he replied – in which case, what am I?
A prat, said the voice.
Charlie put down the sponge and quietly acknowledged that the little voice was speaking the truth. After all, he’d already had two lightbulb moments. How many more wake-up calls did he need?
He sank beneath the bubbles, determined that from now on nothing and no one was going to come between him and Willow. It was time to settle down. Oh my God, he couldn’t believe he was thinking such thoughts. But it was true. He really was. In which case – Charlie shot up out of the bubbles swiping bathwater from his eyes – it was time to do the unthinkable. Time to ask Willow to marry him.
Fifty
Charlie went down the stairs reeking of aftershave and anti-perspirant. He’d had a hefty squirt of the latter figuring it might be required when proposing. There was no time like the present, and the last thing he wanted was his pits turning into a gushing mess.
How should he put the question to Willow? Over the baked beans? Or now, before they ate? He could almost hear Ben shrieking, “Romance, matey! A woman wants romance!” Which was all well and good for someone like Ben who’d thought nothing of impulse-buying roses for Anna – when they’d been together – or whisking her off for a surprise weekend in Paris. But Charlie was different. He wasn’t the soppy type. Willow would likely feel his forehead and produce a thermometer if Charlie presented her with a passport and bouquet of flowers.
A bouquet of flowers…
That’s what every bride held in her hands upon walking down the aisle.
A bouquet of flowers…
Charlie felt a wave of heat wash over him. Instantly he felt hot, bothered and a little faint. He wondered if this was what peri-menopausal women felt like. Okay. He wasn’t female, but he was going through a change of life. For everything would surely change if Willow accepted his proposal. For starters, her name would change. She would no longer be Willow West. She’d be Mrs Charlie Goodman. Willow Goodman. And she’d wear a shiny gold ring on her left hand. And he would too.
He had a sudden image of a matching band on his third finger. Of twisting it round and round. He could even see Ben in the background watching Charlie with amusement. “What are you doing?” Ben would ask. And Charlie would look at Ben in despair and say, “Working out the combination.”
Oh God. He couldn’t do it.
Willow looked up as he walked into the kitchen.
‘Sit down and I’ll dish up.’
She clocked the chocolate-smelling laundry tightly bundled in Charlie’s arms.
‘Give me that and I’ll put a wash on.’
‘I’ll do it,’ he cried, scuttling over to the washing machine.
The last thing he wanted was Willow’s nose twitching like a police dog as she pulled everything apart. It was one thing ignoring brown marks on underpants, but quite another when it was all over one’s shirt and trousers.
He stuffed everything inside the drum, shut the door, then opened it again and retrieved his mobile. Flipping heck. That had been close. He tucked the phone into his jeans’ back pocket before pressing the washing machine’s start button.
Willow paused, plates of bacon and egg held aloft as she eyed Charlie speculatively. She couldn’t recall the last time he’d helped her with the laundry. If ever.
‘You might want to put some soap in the dispenser.’
‘Ha!’ he laughed. ‘Silly me.’
Charlie opened the little drawer and filled it with so much liquid it threatened to spill on the floor.
‘Are you feeling all right?’ said Willow, setting the plates down on the table.
‘Never better,’ Charlie beamed.
‘Only you’ve put your work suit in there too.’
‘Have I?’
‘Yes. I’m sure the label says to dry clean only.’
‘Doesn’t matter.’
‘But you’ll wreck it, darling. Turn the machine off.’
‘It’s fine.’
‘It isn’t.’
‘Oh yummy,’ said Charlie, desperate to divert Willow’s fussing about his suit. ‘Bacon and eggs. My favourite. And baked beans. Wow.’
Charlie stared at the tiny haricots floating in orange sauce as if they were something he’d never seen before.
‘And look, mushrooms! And here are some–’
‘Tomatoes,’ said Willow, frowning. ‘Charlie, are you sure you’re okay? Only you’re behaving rather oddly.’
‘I’m fine. Really. Just fine.’
He glanced anxiously at the washing machine. The drum had now filled with foaming water and everything was sloshing about. Willow was right about the suit. It would emerge six sizes too small but smell fantastic.
Pulling out a chair, he flopped down with a sigh of relief. Picking up his knife and fork, he was about to pop a mushroom in his mouth when he realised Willow was still staring at him.
‘What?’ he said.
Oh God. Had he missed a bit of hazelnut spread? Did he still have a tell-tale blob somewhere? Was Willow studying his left eyebrow? His hand automatically fluttered upwards, rubbing at the hairs. He glanced at his index finger. It was clean.
‘You seem very tense,’ said Willow, sitting down opposite him. ‘Is something on your mind?’
‘Yes,’ Charlie nodded.
‘Want to share it with me?’
‘In a bit.’
Willow’s brow puckered.
‘Is it anything I should be concerned about? Only you look shaken up.’
‘Nonsense,’ said Charlie, forcing himself to laugh. ‘No nasty shocks.’
Not if you didn’t include a Brummie female announcing she was carrying your child, or standing in another woman’s hallway in the early hours while she sang the theme tune to Dr Who.
‘I’m just tired and feeling a little warm.’
‘You look hot.�
�
‘Thanks,’ said Charlie, pretending Willow had paid him a compliment.
Sweat was now beading across his forehead and upper lip. Perhaps he should also have sprayed deodorant across his face.
‘Tuck in,’ he said to Willow, nodding at her plate.
She picked up her knife and fork and, still regarding him curiously, began to eat.
‘Delicious,’ said Charlie, attacking his food.
If he kept his mouth full, he wouldn’t be able to talk. And he really didn’t want to make idle chit-chat. Not right now. The last thing he needed was Willow asking questions about the trip.
‘How was Birmingham?’ asked Willow.
Bugger.
‘Mm mm,’ said Charlie, chewing frantically and pretending it wasn’t convenient to speak.
Instead he stuck his thumb up indicating the trip had gone okay, all the while keeping his jaws rotating long after he’d swallowed and his mouth was empty.
‘I had a nice time yesterday with Emma and Karen,’ said Willow.
Charlie mentally sighed with relief. Thank God. A different subject.
‘What did you get up to?’ he said, feigning interest.
‘We went to the tattoo parlour. Emma got herself a gorgeous butterfly inked on her thigh. The tattoo artist was pretty fit. I think Emma had the hots for him.’
‘Did she now?’ said Charlie.
This was good news. Perhaps the guy would ask her out.
‘Do you think they might hook up?’
Willow shrugged.
‘Not sure. Emma is still hung up on some fella who, for reasons she won’t divulge, remains an enigma. I didn’t watch her having the tattoo because I came over faint and stayed in the waiting area. However, I have it on good authority that there was lots of sizzling chemistry going on in the back room.
Willow's Wedding Vows: a laugh out loud romantic comedy with a twist! Page 21