Page 43 of One Summer Weekend
Chapter Thirteen
I awoke to sunlight framing the dark panel of the curtains, and to the heat of Jack’s legs entwined with mine; I lay for a while, basking in the lingering warmth of the night’s recollections. Then I turned my head towards him and noted – as I’d done once before – the way that his hair stuck up at the front. I was just reaching out to smooth it, when he openedhis eyes.
That smile – wide, wicked and beloved – lit up his face. ‘Pinch me, I’m dreaming.’ When I obliged, he responded with an exaggerated howl of pain. Then, pretending to scold, ‘You’ll have to be punished for that.’
‘But I was only doing what you—’ His mouth blotted out my words, while his hand followed a teasing trail down my body. Oh … if, during the act of love, deferred gratificationcan be considered exquisite torture – then what followed was certainly a form of punishment.
A long time later, I glanced at the clock and sat bolt upright. Eleven forty – wasn’t I meant to be somewhere? Ah yes, there was a conference going on. Since I’d already missed most of the morning sessions, I decided to wait until the programme re-started at two o’clock. If I wasn’t due to speakuntil half past three, it would give me an opportunity to acclimatise. It would also give me time for a leisurely lunch beforehand, with the man lying beside me.
Funny how standing in for Judy at the conference had turned from job ammunition into an inconvenience. As if reading my thoughts, Jack laced his fingers through mine and said softly, ‘Do you really have to go?’
I sighed awaymy regrets. ‘Yes, but not yet. Fancy something to eat?’
‘You know me, the way to my heart is through my—’ He stopped, and gave a low chuckle. ‘Actually, there are two ways to my heart and you know both of them.’
‘Mmm.’ I smiled as I thought of the memories we’d been building. ‘But not as well as I’d like to.’
‘Sounds like I’ll need a nap this afternoon, to gather my strengthfor tonight.’ He lifted our joined hands briefly to his lips. ‘Shall I book somewhere for dinner?’
‘That would be lovely. For lunch, we can just get a sandwich.’
‘Or two,’ he added, grinning.
In the event, it was three, and they were quite substantial; we shared them under the trees in a nearby park. Predictably, he ate more than I did – and, just as predictably, we got coveredin the newly mown grass. Not that it mattered; after showering earlier, we’d just thrown on what we’d worn yesterday. I had a different outfit in mind for the conference, and he was planning to buy a change of clothes.
‘Get yourself a razor, too,’ I reminded him, running a finger across his chin. ‘It’s like kissing Mrs Tiggy-Winkle.’
He laughed. ‘Did you like your souvenir of the Lakes?’
‘Loved it.’ A pang of conscience as I remembered where I’d put it. ‘You know, you’re far nicer than I gave you credit for earlier in the week.’
His eyes held mine in a searching look. ‘You know why I sent that email?’
‘I think I do now, although I didn’t realise at the time.’ Another pang as I recalled how, driven by self-preservation, I’d assumed he was giving me the brush-off.
‘I had to end our business relationship so thatthiscould happen. Because I want – I need a different relationship with you, and more than a physical one. Not that I’m complaining,’ he added, linking my hand with his.
‘You certainly weren’t complaining last night – or this morning.’ I settled myself in the crook of his shoulder; being away from the bedroom was certainly more conduciveto talking. ‘But I wasn’t expecting to see you at all, ever again. I took your email as a “thanks, but no thanks” – to the girlfriend as well as the coach.’
‘What the—?’ He recovered himself and went on, with a rueful chuckle, ‘I chose my words carefully – for once! – because I didn’t know if your colleagues would read it. And I thought your snotty little reply was for the same reason –to put everyone else off the scent.’
‘Snotty little reply?’ I gave him a dig with my elbow. ‘It was a masterpiece of restraint, compared with what I wanted to say – and do – to you.’
‘Mmm, that could be fun,’ – a playful nip at my ear – ‘we’d better explore it in our next … session.’
A pleasurable pause, while I allowed my mind to wander. ‘Don’t make promises when you don’t knowthe ask,’ I said, at last. ‘But there’s something else you need to explain. If this trip to London was planned, why didn’t you pack a bag?’
He pressed his lips to my hair for a moment, then let out a sigh. ‘I kept bottling out, because I still wasn’t sure whether I’d got the wrong end of the stick. By Friday, I knew I’d have to do it on the spur of the moment, so I just went straight fromthe office to the station. Crazy, really, when I’d been thinking about it all week … Although in fact I didn’t make any definite plans until the Wednesday – Celia was very helpful, as always.’
‘Celia?’ I twisted to face him, wide-eyed. ‘You mean she knew you were coming to London?’ He nodded. ‘That explains a lot,’ I went on. ‘Her unusual interest in doing her job, for a start. And how youknew exactly where to find me.’
‘Don’t give her a hard time over it, poor kid.’
‘If anyone’s going to get a hard time, it’ll be you,’ I said, with mock severity.
‘Don’t make promises when you don’t know the ask,’ he said, teasingly; and he folded me in his arms, making me breathless and grass-stained all over again.
Back at the hotel, I freshened up and slipped into a pairof fitted stone-coloured trousers and my sunflower top. Too formal for a laid-back life-coaching crowd? Definitely. So I left my hair loose instead of in the usual French plait, and brushed it until it shone.
