A Passionate Love Affair with a Total Stranger (23 page)

I didn't know what to say, so I ate a tiny forkful of designer champ. Was he right? I was too shocked by what he was saying to know.

‘We
are
a meeting of minds, Lambert. Sorry, I should call you Charley. We're cut from the same cloth. We want the same things and we go after them the same way.'

‘But … you don't really know me, John. You don't know what my values are, or how much I –'

‘Oh, let's not wank on about values. We like to work hard so that we can live well, Charley. End of story. I bet I could describe your kitchen, my dear, because I bet it's the same as mine. I watch you at work and it's like I'm watching myself, only with a better pair of legs. You're me, I'm you.'

I thought back to our first meeting, seven years ago. Me, terrified in a cerise blouse; him, cool as a cucumber in a perfectly pressed white shirt open at the collar.

‘I remember that day, too,' John said, watching me. ‘I saw how scared you were but I also saw the tremendous strength and courage you have, and that was it. I was gone. I've wanted you every day since then.'

I opened my mouth to say something but nothing came out. ‘At least swallow your champ before gaping at me,' John said mildly.

For crying out loud
, I told myself.
This is what you've been waiting for for seven long years! Pull your bloody finger out!
But something didn't ring true. I put my cutlery down. ‘John, we met more than seven years ago. If this is honestly how you've felt ever since – and I'm not convinced I believe you, by the way – then why are you telling me now?'

‘For the same reason you've never done anything about it,' John replied simply. ‘I'm a businessman. I'm determined and ambitious. And us being together would cause trouble at Salutech. Bradley Chambers would probably sack the pair of us out of spite. He's always fancied you, the dirty old bastard.'

I batted this away. I did my best to ignore Chambers's slimy advances.

John's face softened. ‘There were so many risks attached,' he said. ‘And I just wasn't prepared to lose you from my team. You've transformed our public profile. Literally transformed it. You're a miracle.'

I rather loved this but there was still a problem with what he was saying. ‘Your feelings can't have been particularly intense if you were happy to put Salutech first, John. People risk their careers all the time for The One.'

I expected a wisecrack, but John nodded pensively. ‘I've often asked myself the same thing,' he said. ‘Am I insane? Am I a cold, half-dead monster who puts my company before the woman of my dreams?'

I choked slightly.

‘Oh, Lambert, no drama,' John said. He was actually beginning to blush. ‘The point is, I'm the CEO of this company. All bucks stop with me. The pressure those bastards in Washington put me under is quite intolerable at times and I suppose … I suppose I let that get in the way. But you can't sit on your feelings for ever, Charley.' He looked suddenly tired and drained. ‘I can't ignore it any more. I'm prepared to risk my job.'

I was dumbstruck. He seemed 100 per cent genuine.

‘For the record,' he continued, ‘I think about our little sojourn in the broom cupboard every single day. It was glorious, until that bloody granny turned up. Dirty woman.'

In spite of myself, I giggled. ‘That granny didn't shove a mop up your arse and force you to start an affair with Susan,' I pointed out. ‘You did that all on your own.'

John slammed down his wine glass too fast; a splash escaped over the top and spread silently into the tablecloth. ‘Dammit, Charley, I've
told
you why I got together with her. I'd not even sat down to breakfast the next morning when I had Bradley cunting Chambers on my mobile screaming at me about something. It was like he knew I was about to start an affair with the star of the company. So I just grabbed the nearest woman.'

‘Star of the company?' I asked, surprised.

John burst out laughing. ‘See?' he said. ‘See? We're the same! I've just poured my heart out to you and yet the only thing you can hear is that Bradley Chambers calls you the star of the company. We're cut from the same cloth, Charlotte Lambert!'

I looked at him, still uncertain. I so wanted to believe him. Trust him. Get close to him. The longer I'd spent back in the saddle at Salutech, the more him-and-me had started to make sense again. But I didn't have one more broken heart in me. I had to know he was serious. And I certainly needed to be sure that his marriage was over.

A ringing sound was coming from my handbag. I scrabbled round for my phone, mortified. ‘Bugger, sorry, John …'

John smiled. ‘Be my guest,' he said. ‘Answer it!'

So I did, just like I did everything else John told me to do.

‘HELLO?' I probably sounded like Shelley.

‘Er, Chas?'

It was Sam. Dammit! Why had I answered the phone?

I shimmied out from under the table and strode off towards the bar. ‘I can't really talk, I –'

‘No problem.' He yawned. ‘I'll ask you later.'

‘Ask me what?' I could hear him smiling.

‘I thought you couldn't talk.'

‘Go on.' I was enjoying watching John as he stared across at the Forth, looking impossibly handsome.

‘Oh, it's just about William and Shelley. You asked about William's family in the last mail and I wanted to know more about Shelley's family before I replied. Just in case there's any similarities that I can impress her with.'

I watched John top up our champagne glasses. ‘The only thing I can think of is that Shelley's brother also works at St Mary's where William works. He's some sort of researcher.'

‘OK. Brother … researcher … St Mary's …' Then he stopped. ‘Hang on. How do you know William works at St Mary's? I never wrote that!'

I blushed. I knew, of course, because I had stalked William.

‘You stalked William, didn't you?' He chuckled. ‘Chasmonger!'

I was too embarrassed to speak. Sam was laughing properly now. ‘Ha ha! You properly
loved
William!' He giggled. ‘You loved
me
, Chas! Ha ha ha!'

I couldn't take any more. ‘I'm on a date with John,' I cut in.

Sam stopped laughing. ‘Seriously?'

‘Yes. I have to go.'

Sam whistled. ‘I wondered about that foxy dress. Well, enjoy yourself. And don't let him sleep with you on the first date.'

I smiled. ‘Roger.'

‘Definitely none of that! You're a fox! Make him wait! And hang on a second. Isn't he married?'

‘It seems not. His wife is flying to America this weekend to start a new life with some bloke she met on their honeymoon.'

Sam whistled. ‘Mental.'

As I approached the table again I began to feel excited. I was a fox in a foxy dress and the man I'd wanted for seven years was begging me to give him a go. What wasn't to love?

‘OK,' I said, as I sat down. ‘First, can you prove to me that Susan's left you? I need to be sure about that.'

John watched me for a few seconds and then pulled his phone out of his pocket with a resigned expression.

‘Do you want to call her?' he asked. ‘Or to read the text message she sent to tell me it was over? Because that's how she ended it. With a text message. Very modern, don't you think? She's already gone, Lambert. She's coming this weekend to get her stuff and then I'll probably never see her again.'

There was little amusement in his tone and I shook my head until he put his phone back into his pocket. Christ, he had finished with Susan. He was single and he wanted me.

‘OK,' I continued, less firmly than before. ‘I believe what you're telling me about Susan. And, for the record, I'm sorry. But my question is, why now? What's made you change policy about not messing around with a colleague, John MacAllister?'

‘I just couldn't take any more,' he said simply. ‘My life was beginning to feel smaller and sadder by the day without you in it.'

To my intense embarrassment, I felt my lip wobble. I was strangely moved by this. By John, in fact, who had somehow become smaller. More humble. More human.

‘Charley, I've never felt like I did when I watched you sleep in that hospital bed.'

The lip wobbled harder.

‘And as soon as I told you I was going to get married, I felt you just shut down.'

‘Hardly surprising,' I replied.

John nodded. ‘Then when you came back to Salutech you seemed different. As brilliant as ever but your attention was elsewhere. I began to fear you'd met someone.'

You weren't wrong
, I thought sadly, remembering the mad excitement of my correspondence with William.

‘The thought of you being with someone else was ghastly,' John admitted, looking up in surprise when I burst out laughing. ‘What's funny, Lambert?'

‘ “Ghastly”! That's such a middle-aged word!'

‘Well, I'm a middle-aged man. Asking a beautiful younger girl, of whom I am undeserving, if she will give me a chance.'

And there they were. The words I'd dreamed of. In fact, they were
better
than my dream. Never in a thousand years would I have imagined John laying out his heart for inspection on a starched white tablecloth. I'd always just thought that when the moment came – if the moment came – the circumstances would be quite grubby and sordid.

I looked at him, all six foot four of him, and he looked right back at me.

‘Charley? Will you give me a chance?'

I picked up my glass and downed my champagne, noticing that my hands were shaking really quite violently. For some reason the word ‘yes' had stuck in my throat. What was holding me back?

‘Have a think. I'm going to the loo,' John said abruptly. He trailed a tentative finger along my bare shoulder and then all but ran off.

I stared out of the window at the lights twinkling on the Forth. John's
pied à terre
was down there somewhere; he owned a bonded warehouse conversion near the high-end boozers and posh oyster joints around the Water of Leith mouth. I imagined waking up in bed to find him padding up to the bed with a cafetière and some sort of aspirational pastry basket, complicated jazz spilling out of the speakers of his multi-zillion-pound Bang & Olufsen. Being with John was what I'd always wanted. For years I had fantasized about us driving to work together, laughing about office politics, sharing our hopes and fears for Salutech. We would spend weekends in his architecturally significant home on the far side of Loch Lomond. And we could maybe even have that troop of super-talented, multilingual but slightly naughty children I'd dreamed of.

It could all be yours
, I thought.
The life you've always wanted. Your perfect job, home, partner, everything.

But there was one little problem. And having known John as long as I had, I had a feeling that it would be our final stumbling block. Elation suddenly turned to sadness.

He came back and sat down. ‘Well?' he ventured, when I remained silent.

I shook my head.

‘What do you want?' he asked. ‘I'll see a divorce lawyer in the morning. I'll call Bradley Chambers and just tell him we're together. Face the music. Anything, Lambert. Just tell me what you want.'

I stared at him, now truly stumped. This was the trump card. The promise I'd thought he couldn't make. John MacAllister was finally telling me he would do anything to be with me. Risk his job, take on Bradley Chambers.

‘And Susan's leaving England this weekend?'

‘Susan is leaving this weekend.'

‘Um … Well, yes!' I heard myself saying. ‘Yes! Call me when she's gone and then we'll … We … Wow! More champagne, John, more champagne!'

Two hours later, happy and drunk, I walked into the lift and leaned against the wall as John directed it to the ground floor. It had been quite an evening.

‘I'm excited,' I told him timidly.

John looked at me for a few seconds, then moved over to stand in front of me. ‘I'm sorry,' he said conversationally. ‘I know we agreed to wait until next week in the interests of decorum but I'm going to have to grab you and ravish you.' And with that he leaned down and kissed me, hard.

For a second I struggled but I knew I had no chance. I kissed him back, running my hands up and down his shirt inside his jacket, pressing against him.

The lift doors suddenly pinged open and we sprang apart, only to find ourselves in an empty corporate vestibule. John straightened his suit jacket and offered me his
arm. ‘I'm going to walk you two metres round the corner to George Street,' he said, ‘where I will flag down a taxi.'

‘But I only live on –' I started to argue.

John put a finger over my lips. ‘I don't give a monkey's vagina where you live, Charley Lambert. You are coming home with me and that is a direct order.'

‘Fuck me …' I breathed, staring around me in wonder. John smiled, hanging his blazer on a rusted iron hauling hook.

‘I do rather hope to,' he said pleasantly, taking my cardigan off. His hands on my shoulders made me shiver and he dropped an expertly placed kiss on the nerve endings at the bottom of my neck. I breathed in sharply, feeling myself fall apart. I knew I should wait until Susan was at least out of the country and living on her new wine estate but – realistically – the likelihood of that happening was minimal. I was here. John was here. We'd waited seven years.

John's apartment took up the whole top floor of his building and featured three huge walls of plate glass. An exterior balcony ran the entire length of the room, dotted with pieces of beautiful driftwood furniture and rich yellow globes of light hanging down from the edge of the roof. The interior was subtly lit with a combination of larger, red globes and very technical-looking spotlights on tiered racks, plus a few softly glowing globes arranged around the wooden floor. Enormous, slightly worn Inca rugs lay under some very expensive furniture and a pristine black kitchen ran across the bricked wall at the back. Separating it from the room was a long marble breakfast
bar, just like mine. I suppressed a grin. John was right about most things, rather annoyingly.