Persuade Me (26 page)

Chapter Fifty-Six

The book signing was over at last. Rick managed to foil a few lingerers’ attempts to engage him in conversation and went into the Lonsdale room to fetch his things.

To his surprise Ben was there, on his mobile. He waited until the other man had finished the call, then said anxiously, ‘What’s up? I thought you’d gone to the pub ages ago.’

‘That was Charles – he’s only just arrived. Apparently he bumped into an old university friend on his way here and went for a quick half.’ A wry smile. ‘All I can say is – it wasn’t quick and, judging by the way he was slurring his words, it certainly wasn’t a half.’

‘Whereas you must be dying of thirst – good job you had that coffee earlier.’

‘Yeah, and it kept me awake during your talk! No, seriously, I was riveted. Anna was right – you really believe that stuff about “a mate for the rest of your life”, don’t you?’

Rick pulled on his coat, then picked up the umbrella and cradled it in his hands. He kept his voice low, as if frightened of breaking a spell. ‘Is she still here? Have you spoken to her since – since my talk?’

‘Haven’t even seen her, let alone spoken to her – but she must be around somewhere.’ Ben chuckled. ‘She and I had a very interesting conversation earlier about the differences between men and women – I’ll tell you about it in the pub. If Charles can’t walk in a straight line, we’ll have to get a taxi – but you’re seeing someone first, aren’t you? Maybe we could get a taxi together, then Charles and I can wait while you–’

‘Not really, it might take a while,’ Rick said hurriedly. ‘And anyway, she lives in the other direction from the pub.’

‘Ah,
she
.’ Ben rolled his eyes. ‘In that case, there’s a pretty good chance you won’t be coming to the pub at all.’ He grinned and headed for the door.

Rick felt his stomach knot as he followed Ben out of the room and down the stairs. In a matter of seconds, he would have his answer. One word from her – one look, even – would tell him all he needed to know. As Ben veered off to the Gents, he strolled into the reception area and tried to appear composed; but his heart was racing, and his eyes were restless as they scanned the thinning crowd …

There she was, standing by the desk with her back to him. Not ready with her answer, as he’d hoped; in fact, her words and looks were directed at someone else – Charles sodding Musgrove, of all people.

‘And I’m not coming to the pub,’ she was saying. ‘I’ve got other plans.’

Rick cleared his throat. ‘Anna.’

She whirled round – and Charles looked over as well, with a beery smile and a drunken little wave. It was easy to ignore
him
; but far more difficult, even with a scientist’s powers of observation, to read the expression in those startled grey eyes.

Ben appeared at his side, slapped him on the shoulder and said, ‘See you later, at the pub?’

‘Yes,’ Rick said, automatically. But the grey eyes were sparkling now, like a sunlit sea. Did that mean …? ‘Maybe,’ he said; then added recklessly, ‘Maybe not.’

She smiled; and he smiled back, because now he knew everything was going to be just fine. Absolutely-bloody-wonderful, in fact.

‘Come on, Charles,’ Ben said, ‘I don’t think we’re wanted.’ But there was amusement in his voice rather than offence.

With an effort, Rick switched his gaze away from Anna. ‘Sorry, Ben,’ he said. ‘I’ll definitely see you in the morning, before I go to Sophie’s.’

And that was the most he could commit to, he decided, as he saw the two men safely outside. Because he had a feeling that an awful lot was going to happen between now and tomorrow morning.

There were other people around, looking at the art exhibition on their way out – but he didn’t care. And neither, it seemed, did she. As he strode towards her, she ran into his arms.

It was what he’d wanted, deep down, for ten long years: to hold her close and feel the beat of her heart.

Wrapped up in each other, they climbed the stairs to her flat with hurried steps. At the top, she reluctantly let him go, opened the front door and felt for the switch. Before she could flood the room with light, however, his lips brushed her neck just below one ear. Her hand stilled. Wordlessly, she spun round and–

The fierceness of his kiss made her gasp. It was like being back on the boat, when she’d realised that everything before had been a masterclass in restraint. This time, during the long tense weeks since their first meeting, the restraint had been far greater. And, she thought with a deep, drawn-out ache of anticipation, so would be the release.

They broke apart, struggled out of their coats, kicked off their boots. With clumsy, impatient movements, she at last flicked on the light, coaxed the front door shut and pushed the snib home. She smiled to herself as she saw his umbrella lying discarded – evidently forgotten, in the haste to revive older memories …

As she helped him shrug off his jacket and sweater, she noticed that her hands were shaking. It was, she decided, the thrill of knowing what would happen next. Savouring that knowledge, she allowed her fingers to slow and skim his taut, bronzed chest. At her touch, his eyes closed and the breath sighed out of him.

She unfastened his jeans, then paused. ‘Rick?’

He dragged his eyes open and tilted her face up to his. ‘Yes?’

‘It’s just …’ Despite the assurances in his letter, she needed to hear him say the words. ‘How long are you planning to be around?’

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his mouth gently traced the line of her neck, right to the curve of her shoulder, while his hands pulled her dress down … and down. ‘Oh, I reckon it’ll be …’ he kissed the soft swell of her breast, ‘an eternity or two. Long enough to bring up a family and grow old together.’

‘That,’ she said, when she’d remembered how to breathe, ‘sounds perfect.’

More kisses, while her dress and his jeans fell to the floor. As cool air met hot skin, she trembled – and, instantly, he cocooned her in his warmth. The seconds ticked by; but there were no kisses or caresses, only the sense that he’d somehow withdrawn.

‘What is it?’ she said quietly.

‘I’m looking at that painting.’ His voice was thick with emotion. ‘A picture of our past. You had it as a daily reminder, whereas I …’

‘Shhh.’ She leaned back in the circle of his arms, put her finger to his lips. Later, she would tell him how she’d talked Katya into capturing her jumbled impressions on canvas, adjusting and re-adjusting the final result until it was real enough to send shivers down her spine. But not yet. She took his hand and led him into the bedroom, steering a sure path through the shadows to switch on the bedside lamp. And, as it cast its pale-gold glow on to the little table underneath, he glanced at the book that she’d left there.

‘What are you reading?’ He sounded oddly apprehensive – but no wonder, when the title was in Russian!

She smiled up at him. ‘It’s called
First Love
– what else?’

He smiled back – and it was that special little smile, the one she’d always thought of as reserved for her alone; only now she was absolutely certain about it. And the rightness of it all – of being with him, like this – stung her eyes with tears.

Later, when their bodies locked in an instinctive rhythm, when he whispered ‘Annie’ as a passionate, loving refrain – she knew that, this time, she would never let him go.

It was the same old magic, enriched by a new understanding – that the pain of loss only made the joy of rediscovery more intense.

Downstairs, back home after their evening out, Jenny emerged from the wintry depths of the larder clutching a bottle, which she promptly handed to Tom. ‘You’re nearer the corkscrew, I’ll get the glasses.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Wine – at this time of night? What are we celebrating?’ Then, as he noticed the label, ‘Bloody hell! I thought we were keeping this for Christmas Day?’

‘Christmas has come early – for some people, anyway.’

She fetched the best glasses while he opened the wine. When he placed the bottle on the kitchen table to let it breathe, she shook her head impatiently. ‘Pour it straight out.’

As soon as he’d done so, she raised her glass. ‘To Anna.’

‘To Anna,’ he repeated automatically. Then, with a puzzled frown, ‘Why on earth have we opened a bottle of very expensive Burgundy just to drink to Anna?’

‘All right then – to Anna and the man she’s brought back to her flat.’

‘
What
? How do you know she’s got a man up there?’

‘You mean apart from hearing a distinctly masculine laugh outside a few minutes ago?’ She allowed herself a smirk of satisfaction. ‘Well, let’s see, there were definitely two of them going up those stairs. Oh – and you know that noisy front door of hers? There was a very long pause between the creak when it opened and the creak when it shut, as if she’d been well and truly distracted. Good job I didn’t oil those hinges after all.’

He sipped his wine – and frowned. She was about to ask if it was corked, when he said anxiously, ‘You’re sure it couldn’t be William? That wouldn’t exactly be something to celebrate.’

‘No way could it be William. You didn’t see her face when I told her what he’d been up to – she was almost relieved.’ Now it was Jenny’s turn to frown. ‘Which means I was completely wrong about the theatre.’

‘The theatre?’

‘Whoever she wanted to impress there with her new dress, it certainly wasn’t William.’

Tom raised his glass a second time. ‘To Anna.’

‘What for now?’

‘For getting the better of you.’ He chuckled. ‘That doesn’t happen very often, does it?’

And Jenny was determined it wouldn’t happen again – at least, not for a while. The next morning, at exactly eight-thirty – she simply couldn’t wait any longer, even though it was a Saturday – she knocked loudly on Anna’s door.

No response. Undeterred, she raised her hand to knock again – and the door opened. She stopped herself just in time from hammering on the tanned, muscular chest in front of her, and looked up.

‘Oh – it’s
you
,’ she whispered. In her confusion, she lowered her eyes. But the sight of only a pair of boxer shorts – obviously pulled on in a hurry, because they barely covered the necessary – made her gaze flick swiftly upwards again.

‘Sorry, couldn’t find my clothes,’ Rick Wentworth said, not bothering to hide his amusement.

‘Don’t mind me,’ she croaked. ‘Is Anna around?’

‘She’s still asleep. Anything I can help with?’

Jenny recovered her voice at last. ‘I just wondered if she wanted something from the shops?’

‘Possibly – although we’re at my sister’s all day.’ He grinned. ‘I’m meant to be opening her garden centre.’

‘Let’s hope you can find your clothes, then.’ She grinned back. ‘Or maybe not. Get yourself a baseball cap and you’ll look as though you’ve just walked off the cover of your book.’

He laughed. ‘A bit chilly for that. And I’m not sure my sister would be too pleased – today’s all about promoting her business, not my book. Anyway,’ he went on, ‘I’ll tell Anna you called and I’m sure she’ll be in touch.’

Very unlikely, Jenny told herself as she went downstairs. Given what else was on offer, Anna would hardly be thinking about her shopping list.

She found Tom in the kitchen, catching up with the
Bath Chronicle
over breakfast. ‘Well, I met the mystery man,’ she said, in a deceptively casual tone.

He looked up immediately. ‘And–?’

‘Anna Elliot is a very lucky woman.’

‘So – who is he?’

‘Rick Wentworth.’ She watched his forehead crease in surprise. ‘Just one teeny-weeny problem, of course,’ she added, glumly. ‘He lives on the other side of the world.’

Bliss, utter bliss. To wake up and know that love was only a touch away.

Anna shut her eyes to the dull morning light edging round the curtains, and stretched out her hand. Instantly, his fingers curled around hers; and she wondered if he’d been lying awake, waiting …

She opened her eyes. He was sitting next to her, on top of the duvet; and he’d obviously been up and about, although he wasn’t dressed. ‘Come back to bed,’ she whispered.

He let go of her hand, but only to trace her mouth with the tip of his finger. ‘Wish I could,’ he said, gently, ‘but I’ve got a garden centre to open.’

The bed gave a soft groan as he got up, and she turned away. Love was no longer a touch away – and that was reality, wasn’t it? Other things crowded in; and love, if it was a wise love, made room for them. But she couldn’t help a little niggle of disappointment.

And then – his weight on the bed again, nearer now, right behind her; his body warming hers, and his voice in her ear, low and caressing. ‘I love you.’

She rolled over to face him, blinking back the tears. ‘I love you, too. And I don’t want you to go.’

‘To Uppercross? Aren’t you coming with me?’

‘I mean back to Australia, next week.’

He let out a long, ragged breath. ‘I’ve already decided to cancel my flight – I’ll make some phone calls first thing Monday.’ A grave look, burdened with déjà vu. ‘This time, I’ll do whatever
you
want.’

‘No.’ She gave an emphatic shake of her head. ‘This time, we’ll work out what’s best for both of us.’

Silence, as he gazed down at her; then his mouth relaxed into a grin. ‘As long as it doesn’t involve living with your father, or either of your sisters.’ He glanced across at the desk. ‘Or having a computer in our bedroom.’

She pulled him close, laughing. ‘Getting picky, aren’t we, Dr Wentworth?’

‘Oh, I’ve always been picky – particularly about the love of my life.’ A lingering kiss. ‘But now I need to call Dave, or we’ll be late. Although I know Sophie and Ed will let me off when they see
you
.’

‘Mmmm.’ Anna wished she shared his confidence. Judging by that embarrassing discussion with Sophie and Ed in the Pump Room, she’d be the last person they were expecting Rick to turn up with.

But then Rick saw things very much in black and white, she reflected, as she listened to his phone conversation with Dave. He was brief to the point of being abrupt, and totally focused on the matter in hand – getting Dave to pick them up in forty minutes. Whereas her phone call to Jenny a little while later, while Rick was in the shower, was the opposite of brief and focused. She was unusually nervous as she dialled the number; sharing this part of her past was uncharted territory.