[Churchminster #3] Wild Things (18 page)

‘Yes, Mr Fitzgerald,’ Camilla replied miserably.

Mr Fitzgerald smiled and looked at his pocket watch again. ‘I’m pleased we understand each other. Get out now, I’ve got a lunch appointment.’ He stood up. ‘Before I forget, my Dearly Beloved phoned. She’s got some evening dress at the dry cleaners, be a good girlie and pick it up for me, will you?’

By 7 p.m., a nice glass of G and T by her side and an assurance from Jed that he was on his way home, Camilla was feeling better. She’d given herself a talking-to. She needed to hang on in there and get more experience. Besides, jobs at prestigious companies like Top Drawer Travels were few and far between at the moment.

It’ll get better
, she told herself, always the optimist.

There was a tap on the back door and when she turned to see who it was all thoughts about Mr Fitzgerald were temporarily forgotten. There, standing at her kitchen door, was Rafe Wolfe. He smiled at her through the window panel. Heart jumping, Camilla rushed over and opened the door. The blond film star was dressed in jeans and a fresh white shirt, enough buttons open to reveal a flash of brown chest.

‘There was no answer at the front,’ Rafe Wolfe said apologetically.

‘Oh! Sorry, do come in. I’ve had the kitchen door closed, I didn’t think we were expecting anyone. I was just about to start making dinner,’ she added rather stupidly.

‘Anything nice?’ Rafe asked politely. Like Jed, he was so tall his head nearly touched the beams on the roof.

‘Just a stew – er, there’d probably be enough for you …’ Camilla trailed off uncertainly. Had Calypso told her Rafe was coming to dinner? Surely she wouldn’t have forgotten a thing like that!

Rafe looked bemused. ‘I think Calypso and I are going over to mine?’

Camilla nearly dropped the tea towel. ‘Over to yours?’ she asked weakly.

Rafe frowned. ‘Hasn’t Calypso told you?’

‘Haven’t I told her what?’ Calypso appeared in the doorway, putting a dangly earring in one ear. She was wearing a short black skirt and a simple tank top, silver Grecian-type sandals on her feet.

Rafe’s appreciative once-over didn’t go unnoticed. ‘I was just telling your sister about our date tonight,’ he said.

At the word ‘date’ Camilla’s eyes shot into her hairline. ‘You didn’t tell me about this!’

‘Didn’t I?’ said Calypso airily. ‘Anyway, we must dash. See you later.’ With that she propelled Rafe out of the kitchen, leaving a gobsmacked Camilla in their wake.

‘So where do you live, exactly?’ Calypso asked, as Rafe’s sports car zoomed out of the village. The roof was down and her blonde hair blew round her face.

Rafe changed down into third to negotiate a hairpin bend. ‘Hedgewater.’

Hedgewater was a little hamlet ten miles outside Churchminster, which consisted of little more than a row of houses and a decrepit pub.

Calypso looked puzzled. ‘But there’s nothing there.’

Rafe grinned. ‘You’ll see.’

Ten minutes later they were driving slowly down a little road Calypso had never known existed, on the way out of Hedgewater. Gravel crunched under the wheels as the most extraordinary building appeared in front of them. It was two storeys high and appeared to be made completely of glass, a huge balcony running the entire length of the second floor. As the car pulled
up
outside, neon fibreglass lanterns over the entrance lit up.

‘Not your average Cotswolds cottage,’ Rafe said. He got out of the car and went round to Calypso’s side to open her door.

‘It’s wicked,’ she said admiringly, giving him a hand to help her out.

Inside was even more spectacular. A palm tree was growing up through the concrete floor in the hallway, while each room had been designed like something from a James Bond film, with gold silk sheets, a casino and even a huge mural of Bond girl Ursula Andrews emerging from the sea in her iconic bikini. In one room there was even a high-tech gym, with running machines, bikes and an impressive set of weights.

‘A bit too OTT for my tastes, but I’m hardly ever here,’ said Rafe, leading Calypso into an ultra-modern kitchen. ‘Seraphina Inc. have rented it for me for the duration of the picture. My co-star Sophia prefers the more genteel, sociable atmosphere of Cheltenham, but I like it here.’ He pulled open a fridge, which was fully stocked with champagne, beers and bottles of spirits. ‘What can I get you?’

‘Vodka and Coke, please.’

Rafe pulled out a bottle of Louis Roederer Cristal instead. ‘Why don’t we have something a bit special? A film sponsor gave me this, and I’ve never had the occasion to drink it.’

Calypso raised an eyebrow. The stuff was at least a grand a bottle, but who was she to argue?

It was still warm enough to sit outside, so Rafe carried
an
ice bucket and two flutes outside to the terrace. A large hot tub sat in one corner, near a barbecue. Calypso went and sat down on the huge swing seat in the other. It was big enough to stretch her legs out on. She nodded at the hot tub. ‘Is that where you entertain all the groupies?’

Rafe looked up from pouring the champagne. ‘Unfortunately not. The only chicks I’ve seen in this garden have been of the fluffy winged variety.’ He handed Calypso a glass and sat down at the other end of the swing seat. He raised his glass. ‘Cheers.’

They clinked glasses.

‘God, that’s good,’ said Calypso as the ice-cold liquid went down her throat. She leant into the comfortable cushions. ‘So how’s work going? You know, I don’t even know what the film’s about.’

Rafe filled her in. ‘I’ll give you the basic version. It’s set in the eighteenth century, and I play Theodore Wallingford, a dashing duke who gets quite a reputation for being a good-for-nothing ladies’ man. Anyway, the only person he gives two hoots about is Evangeline, his beautiful second cousin. Theo has an epiphany one day and realizes she’s the only woman for him, but she gives him the brush-off.’

‘Ha, serves him right.’

Rafe smiled. ‘Indeed. Anyway, to prove to her and his father, the Duke of Wallingford, that he
is
a good man, Theo joins the army and becomes a hero on the battlefield. He comes back a different person, Evangeline falls for him, and they get married. But then Theo is called back into service and gets killed the day
Evangeline
finds out she is expecting their first child. She is devastated, but vows to keep alive his memory, and gives birth to a son who looks just like him. It’s a bit of a tear-jerker.’

‘Camilla will be weeping buckets, it’s just her sort of thing.’ Calypso finished her glass.

‘So does life imitate art?’ she asked idly. ‘You playing a playboy and all that.’

Rafe cocked his head, sizing her up. ‘I’m not sure I like the impression you’ve got of me.’

‘Oh yeah, and what’s that?’ she said teasingly.

Rafe started to count off on his fingers. ‘Arrogant, womanizing, selfish …’

‘…having an ego the size of Hollywood,’ Calypso added helpfully.

Rafe shot her a half-amused, half-exasperated look. ‘You’ve been reading too many Frank Sinatra biographies.’

Calypso wasn’t about to let him off yet. ‘What about all these lovelies you’re pictured with? I’m not knocking it, most guys I know would give their right arm to be in your position.’

‘Most of that stuff’s made up! I only have to be in the same vicinity as someone and suddenly I’m getting married to them. Come on, Calypso, you must know how it works.’

Calypso was suddenly aware of his arm, warm against her bare leg. Trying to ignore the sensation it was giving her, she threw her hands up in mock surrender. ‘OK, point taken. I was only winding you up.’

‘“Winding me up”,’ he muttered, smiling. He got up to refill her glass.

‘So what are we having for dinner?’ asked Calypso. ‘I didn’t see a chef anywhere.’

Rafe raised his eyebrows, as if to say:
I thought we’d got past this?

‘I thought I’d do a barbecue. I find the dining room a bit stuffy and formal.’

Calypso looked over at the high-tech contraption in the corner. ‘Go for it, Delia.’

An hour later, Calypso topped up her glass for the umpteenth time. They were on their second bottle of champagne, which she seemed to have drunk most of. She was feeling more than a little light-headed. ‘Are you sure I can’t do anything to help?’ She delicately stubbed out the roll-up she’d been smoking, and slid the ashtray under the seat.

Rafe looked up from the lifeless barbecue, frustrated. ‘I can’t understand why it won’t work.’

Calypso went over to stand next to Rafe as he flipped through the instruction book. He smelt good: of health and vitality, clean living. She bet he’d never had a nicotine hit in his life. Her eyes skimmed the booklet. It looked overly complicated. ‘Don’t stress about it, let’s just have a cold supper.’

Rafe shot her a sideways glance. ‘Ciabatta rolls and Kettle Chips, not very glamorous, is it?’

She laughed. ‘I’m so hungry I’ll eat anything.’

After the impromptu picnic outside, Calypso leaned back in the seat and sighed contentedly. ‘I’d never have thought crisp sandwiches would taste so good.’

Rafe was sitting on the other end of the swing seat, his feet resting on the little garden wall. The remnants of a packet of strawberries sat between them. ‘Do you normally eat that much?’ he asked.

‘No, normally I have a lot more.’ Calypso wriggled to get more comfortable. ‘I’m a greedy pig. It’s all right to say it.’

Rafe laughed. ‘I like a woman with a good appetite. It makes a change from seeing someone push a lettuce leaf round her plate.’

‘Actresses, eh?’ said Calypso drily. ‘Talking of which, what’s it like working with Sophia Highforth?’

Rafe considered her question. ‘She can come across as a bit of a diva but that’s only because she’s such a perfectionist. Bloody talented.’

‘Ever mixed business with pleasure?’

‘With Sophia? No, actually.’ Rafe finished his drink and put it down on the floor. ‘She’s very beautiful, but not my type. Actresses can be pretty demanding.’

Calypso wasn’t about to ask who was his type. They lapsed into silence, listening to the sounds of the nocturnal wildlife coming alive.

‘Fantastic night,’ he remarked eventually. They were looking up at the velvet-blue sky, pinpricks of light shimmering down.

‘Mmmm,’ said Calypso. His leg had fallen against hers and she was finding the sudden warmth rather distracting.

His rich voice came suddenly out of the darkness. ‘You do know I like you, don’t you?’

Calypso hesitated, digesting his words. ‘I suppose so,’ she admitted.

‘And would it be arrogant to think that you like me, too?’

She laughed. ‘Uh-oh, that ego’s coming out again.’

‘You’re very good at deflecting things with that dry wit of yours, aren’t you?’

‘One of us has got to have a sense of humour,’ she joked, but the intensity building up between them was getting hard to ignore.

Suddenly he swung his legs down, puncturing the moment. Calypso’s disappointment didn’t last long. He put the strawberry packet on the floor and moved next to her.

‘What I really want to do is kiss you. Properly, this time.’ He leant down and took her face in his hands. She realized she was holding her breath. ‘I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, Calypso.’

As his lips crushed down on to hers, she found herself responding with a surprising passion. His mouth was warm and sweet, his tongue probing but not invasive. Instinctively Calypso parted her legs, pulling him down on to her. She raked her hands up and down his broad back, feeling his erection growing by the second. She rubbed it and then took one of his hands and pushed it into her knickers. He groaned appreciatively.

‘Christ, you’re wet.’ His fingers started caressing her clitoris, sending little shock waves of joy through her body.

Calypso wrapped her legs round him, her breathing becoming laboured. Rafe’s hands were running over her bra now, pushing aside the lacy material to get at her breasts …

‘I can’t do this.’ With some difficulty he extricated himself and sat up, breathing heavily.

‘Are you
serious
?’ Calypso panted incredulously. Surely he wasn’t going to tell her he was secretly married after all!