The One You Really Want (45 page)

‘I was just . . .' he forced himself to stop scrubbing, but clung on to the cloth and spray for security, ‘um, cleaning up.'

Carmen narrowed her eyes suspiciously. ‘Why? What did you spill?'

‘Nothing! Just crumbs. All done now. Right.' Pulling himself together - Jesus, how could one small female with wet spiky hair terrify him more than a stadium packed with screaming fans? - Rennie said, ‘Take the wine through to the living room. I'll bring the pizzas.'

‘Stop!' shouted Carmen as he chucked the J-Cloth into the sink and reached for the plates.

Rennie froze. ‘What?'

‘Kitchen spray, you idiot! You have to wash your hands after using that stuff or the pizza will taste of bleach. And probably poison us.' Tut-tutting, Carmen said, ‘Honestly, you are
such
a hopeless case.'

Which, Rennie felt as she disappeared with the wine and he washed his hands, wasn't the most promising of starts.

Carmen's choice of TV viewing didn't improve matters. Having generously allowed her to decide what they watched, Rennie was soon regretting it. Much as he loved
EastEnders
, you couldn't call it conducive to seduction at the best of times. And tonight's, needless to say, was an extra shouty, extra extra angst-ridden episode.

‘Hit him!' Carmen bellowed at the screen. ‘Go on, really wallop him - he deserves it, the bastard. Yay, and again!'

Rennie looked at her, stretched across the sofa with her legs resting on his lap. Five feet two inches tall, luminous dark eyes, expressive eyebrows and a complexion like Snow White. She was wearing white flannel pyjama bottoms and a pink and white polka-dotted strappy top that would have looked sexy if she hadn't added a hideous chunky Starsky-type cardigan in shades of virulent purple and elephant-grey.

Dammit, she still looked sexy. Even if she was currently yelling at the TV like a deranged wrestling fan.

At long last the end credits rolled and Rennie shifted Carmen's legs off his lap. ‘OK, film next. I've got a great—'

‘Oh no you don't.' Carmen grabbed his arm as he made to get up. ‘Hold your horses, Mr Bossy. I think you're forgetting something here.'

‘What?'

‘It's not your turn. You chose
Brigadoon
the other night, remember. Tonight I get to choose.'

‘But I've already—'

‘I know you have.' Carmen rolled her eyes. ‘But we're not watching it, whatever it is, OK? Because the world doesn't always revolve around you. For once we're watching what
I
want to watch.'

‘Which is?' Rennie's heart sank; he'd lined up
Brief Encounter
specially for tonight. An all-time classic. All that erotically charged suppressed emotion - what could be more conducive to his cause?

‘Ta-daaa.' Having rolled onto her side and groped under the sofa, Carmen resurfaced with a DVD in her hand and a look of triumph on her face. ‘Mia lent it to me. I haven't seen it for years. We can join in all the songs, do the dances - now you can't say this isn't a brilliant choice!'

Bloody can, thought Rennie, because
The Rocky Horror Show
might be a cult classic but it wasn't what you'd call romantic.

Then again, a fight now wasn't likely to help.

‘Wouldn't you prefer to watch
Brief Encounter
?' He gave it one last desperate shot.

‘Hmm, let me think,' said Carmen, clambering off the sofa and heading happily over to the DVD player. ‘Does everyone do the Timewarp in
Brief Encounter
? Do the men wear stockings and suspenders? Does
Brief Encounter
have Meatloaf on a motorbike in it? Excuse me, but I don't believe it does. So how about . . .
no
?'

Steam trains, stiff upper lips and men in unfeasibly high-waisted forties-style suits lost out to bawdy double-entendres and transvestites in make-up and unfeasibly high heels. Having completely geared himself up to the fact that Tonight would be The Night, Rennie was now feeling like a pressure cooker left on an increasingly high heat. This wasn't fair. How could everything be going so wrong? He'd even planned - more or less - what he would say to start the ball rolling, but it simply wasn't possible when a bunch of pouting, pelvis-gyrating transsexuals from Transylvania were leering at you from the TV screen.

One hundred minutes, that was how long it lasted. Back in position on the sofa with her legs draped comfortably over Rennie's and her plate of pizza resting in her lap, Carmen jiggled her feet, wiggled her toes and sang raucously along while Rennie counted down the minutes to the end of the film. They'd started watching at ten past eight. Allowing for one bathroom break and one fetch-and-open-another-bottle-of-wine break, normal service would be resumed at around ten o'clock. Since Rose was expected home at eleven and he'd prefer to say what he had to say to Carmen without an audience, this meant he had a window of opportunity of an hour at most in which to say it.

Oh God, he'd never felt like this before.

Twenty minutes of the film left.

Ten minutes.

Three minutes to go . . .

‘See? Didn't I tell you it was great?' Carmen demanded when the film ended. Reaching for her glass of wine, she spilled a bit on Rennie's denim-clad thigh. ‘Whoops, sorry. Lucky it's only white. There now, you can't tell me you didn't enjoy that.'

Only Carmen could mean the film and not the fact that she was rubbing at the damp patch on his jeans with a tissue.

OK, no more shilly-shallying about. Down to business. Reaching for the remote, Rennie pointed it at the screen.

‘Oh no, don't turn it off.' Carmen let out a wail of protest. ‘We're watching
Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory
next.'

‘For crying out loud, what's the matter with you?' Rennie raised his eyebrows in despair. ‘You're a girl. Girls are supposed to like soppy romantic films.
Four Weddings, Sleepless in Seattle
, that kind of stuff.
Willy Wonka
isn't romantic.'

Carmen grinned. ‘You don't know that. He might be. Ask Mrs Wonka.'

Wrong, wrong, all going horribly wrong. And he hadn't even started yet. Rennie heaved a sigh.

‘What's the matter?' Tilting her head to one side, Carmen said incredulously, ‘Do
you
want to watch
Sleepless in Seattle
?'

‘Yes. No. It's too late now. I'm just saying it might have been . . . oh God.'

‘
What?
' Carmen was by this time thoroughly confused.

‘Helpful.'

‘Helpful
how
?'

He had to do it now, had to.

‘OK, there's something I need to say to you. About how I . . . um, the way things have . . . well, it's just that . . .'

‘Rennie, you're making no sense.'

Rennie closed his eyes. He was making no sense and time was running out. Terrific.

Actually, keeping his eyes closed was helping a bit.

‘Right. The thing is, we've always got on really well. I've always liked you. But things have changed now. Since I've been back . . .'

‘You don't like me any more?'

‘No, it's not that.' Rennie shook his head.

‘Your eyes are shut.' Carmen sounded worried. ‘Open them,' she ordered.

‘I can't.'

‘Rennie, you're scaring me. Tell me what's wrong.'

Rennie took a deep breath, wondering if she could hear his heart thudding against his chest. ‘I love you.'

Silence.

Followed by more silence.

At least he hadn't had his face slapped.

‘Say something, for God's sake,' Rennie murmured when he could stand it no longer.

‘I can't.' Carmen's voice was strained and distant.

When he finally opened his eyes, he saw that she was shaking her head.

‘Sorry,' said Rennie. ‘Bit of a shock.'

‘You don't love me.'

‘I do. Oh, I do. I've known it for weeks. Maybe long before that,' he admitted, ‘but I never really allowed myself to think it because you weren't over Spike. You were so off limits, it wasn't an option. But you're over him now, and I realised what was happening when you started seeing Joe. I hated it. I was so bloody jealous. Then when that ended and you got together with Nick, I was even more jealous.' Rennie was astonished to discover that now he'd started, he couldn't stop; the words were tumbling out. ‘Because I knew you deserved so much better than him, and I wanted you to realise I was right, and—'

‘You thought you were better than Nick? That I deserved
you
?' Carmen began to tremble. ‘Rennie, don't you see? You're not better. You're a hundred times worse!'

Stung, Rennie said, ‘How can I be worse? We know everything about each other. The money thing isn't an issue. I make you laugh. You can't tell me I'm not better looking than that scruffy, gangly human scarecrow.'

‘Like you just said, we know everything about each other. I know everything about
you
.' Carmen's dark eyes glistened as she met his gaze. ‘And yes of course you're good-looking and funny and successful and rich, but you're also the last person any sane woman would risk getting involved with. Because all you do is sleep with them, leave them and break their hearts.'

‘But that's because I didn't love them.' Rennie shook his head, willing her to believe him. ‘Everything's different now. I wouldn't do that to you because I
do
love you.'

A single tear slid down Carmen's cheek. ‘Rennie, that's not true. You
think
you wouldn't do it, but you would. Sooner or later it would happen.'

‘It wouldn't because I've changed. I'm tired of all that old stuff,' Rennie insisted. ‘I don't need it any more. How often do I go out now? Hardly ever, because I'm just not interested. Girls ring me and I don't return their calls. I get invited to clubs and I don't go. I stay here instead because I'd rather be with you. I've never felt that way about anyone before, but I do now.'

‘People don't change just like that.' Miserably Carmen shook her head. ‘You can't just wave a magic wand.'

For the first time, Rennie glimpsed a chink of light. She wasn't telling him she couldn't stand him, that the sight of him made her skin crawl. If the only stumbling block was her fear that he was incapable of changing his old ways, all he had to do was persuade her that he could.

‘Warren Beatty led a pretty colourful life.' He nodded at Carmen. ‘Then he married and had kids.'

‘Oh please. That's
one
person.'

‘Paul McCartney. Look how he changed after meeting Linda.'

‘Fine.' Carmen raised her eyebrows. ‘Any more?'

‘Um . . .' Damn, he couldn't think of any more.

‘Oh dear,' Carmen sighed. ‘Just those two then. I think that says it all, don't you?'

‘Rennie Todd,' Rennie blurted out, daring at last to stroke her face.

‘Stop it.' She turned her head away.

‘I love you,' he repeated more bravely, sensing that she was weakening.

‘We can't do this,' Carmen mumbled.

‘Does that mean you'd like to?'

‘It means we're not going to.'

‘But you don't hate me?'

‘Of course I don't hate you.'

Well, this was progress. She didn't hate him and she hadn't slapped his hand away from her face. Gaining in confidence Rennie said, ‘So you like me a little bit?'

Carmen was quivering. ‘This isn't fair. How much I like you doesn't come into it. It's still not going to happen.'

Rennie's other hand moved to the back of her head, his fingers trailing through her just-washed hair. She smelled gorgeous. She was terrified. Well, that was OK. He could gain her trust. Carmen felt the same way and that was good enough for him. He felt as elated as if he'd just climbed Everest.

‘
It
isn't going to happen,' he said, ‘if that's what's scaring you. I've told you how I feel about you, and that's enough for now. This isn't about sex, believe me. We have the rest of our lives for all that. No hurry, no hurry at all. I can wait. You're in charge. The rest is up to you.'

Carmen lifted her head, gazed at him. She was torn, that much was evident. In a voice barely above a whisper she said, ‘What would Spike think?'

The nerves had lessened. Baby steps, baby steps. His mouth mere inches from hers, Rennie said, ‘He'd think I was a damn sight better bet than those last two losers you got yourself involved with.'

‘Oh God, I don't know.' Shaking her head, Carmen said, ‘At the restaurant the other night, Mia asked me if I'd ever considered you.'

‘For a flaky sixteen-year-old, that girl talks a lot of sense.' Rennie paused. ‘And have you?'

No reply.

Which was, of course, exactly the reply he wanted to hear.

‘Right.' Breathing in the smell of her shampoo, Rennie inwardly marvelled at his self-control. ‘We're stopping now. You can relax, I'm not planning to seduce you. Just take what I've said on board and don't automatically think of me as the devil. Give me a chance, OK? Don't write me off. I might not be as much of a nightmare as you think.'

Carmen met his gaze. ‘Really?'

Rennie couldn't tell whether she was querying his remark about stopping now or the one about not being a nightmare. To be on the safe side he smiled and said, ‘Really. We're going to crack open the Pringles and watch
Willy Wonka
. Just relax and enjoy the film, OK? I'm not even going to try and kiss you.'