Page 11 of The Dead Ex
If only they could see me now.
‘You’re not what I expected,’ David said later.
We were lying face to face in his huge bed in a massive loft conversion – with an incredibly complex security entrance on the groundfloor – overlooking the London Eye. I knew I could get into trouble for being back late, but for once I ignored the nagging voice, telling myself I was entitled to some fun for a change.
‘In what way?’ I asked.
I often wonder how people really see me. But very few have the courage to tell me to my face. Instead, I get the odd sideways look. An expression that conveys a mixture of curiosity andapprehension. Even fear.
‘You’re more …’ He hesitates. ‘I was going to say “feminine”, but that sounds disparaging.’
‘Yes,’ I agreed. ‘It does.’
He stroked the side of my face as if memorizing the texture of my skin or the position of my mouth. ‘Let mestart again. You’re strong. You’ve done things that many women – and men – wouldn’t or couldn’t have.’
This talk was making me nervous. ‘Isuppose. The last few years haven’t been easy.’
He nodded. ‘I’m sure they haven’t.’
It had been a long time since I’d had such a frank conversation. Despite the unease, I felt a sense of relief at meeting someone who seemed to understand.
His right hand was tracing the outline of my back. ‘Do you have any regrets?’
David’s touch made it hard for me to concentrate. It’s as though this man alreadyknew each curve of my body, even though we had only just met.
‘Yes,’ I whispered. ‘You?’
‘Several – if I let myself dwell on them. But I don’t.’ He turned away to lie on his back. My body felt cold without his skin on mine, despite the warmth of the centrally heated air. ‘Instead I keep myself busy.’
This was my cue now to question him. Physical attraction was all very well, but it’s what liesbeneath that matters in a long-term relationship. Then I caught myself. Long-term? What was I thinking? I didn’t know this man. And he didn’t know me. I wanted to tell him that I’m not the kind of woman who goes to bed with someone on a first date. But that sounded too much like a cliché. The truth is that I had to do this. Call it intuition or lust or loneliness or a desire to prove that I couldget a man if I wanted. But here I was. And now I wanted to find out everything about David Goudman. I sensed there was more to him than met the eye.
‘How did you start your business?’ I asked.
‘Through sheer hard work and luck. My old man pushed me to go into the army, which I did, but it wasn’t for me.’ A strange look flitted across his face and I wondered what horrors he’d seen. ‘I got outas soon as I could and hooked up with a bloke I’d met through the forces who’d gone back to the States, where he ran a business. He wanted a UK presence and I began developing land. He had the capital and I seemed to have a knack of finding the right plots at the right time. Then I was able to set up on my own.’ He spread out his hands. ‘The rest, as they say, is history!’
I was impressed.
‘What do you do when you’re not working?’ I asked.
He laughed. ‘I usuallyamworking. Doesn’t leave much time for personal relationships, but I’m happiest being active.’
‘Me too. I need fresh air.’
He nodded approvingly. ‘I thought as much. Do you like walking?’
I thought of the long corridors and the outside exercise yard with its jogging track. ‘Can’t get enough of it.’
His eyes looked asthough they were somewhere else. ‘I love Dartmoor.’
‘So do I!’
‘Your favourite part?’ He placed a finger on my lips. ‘No. Wait. Say it together. One, two, three …’
‘Haytor,’ we both blurted out together. Then he moved towards me and we rocked in laughter and amazement, his body against mine.
‘I love to climb up and look down,’ he said. ‘It’s like being on the top of the world.’
‘Exactly.But I have to come down on my bottom. It’s too difficult otherwise.’
