The Proposal (30 page)

‘You could have called me,’ she replied, gently testing him.

‘I knew how pissed off you were, and frankly, I don’t blame you. But that’s in the past. We’re here now, together, and let’s enjoy it.’

Her nerves returning, Amy picked up the menu and began to scan it.

‘Shall we start with a drink?’ she suggested, her voice still cool. ‘How about the Shiraz? This South African red,’ she said without thinking.

Daniel’s face betrayed his surprise. She had never even expressed a preference for red or white before.

‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Why not?’

They ordered the wine and their food and Daniel pushed his hand across the table so that their fingers touched.

‘Tell me about New York.’

And over their delicious dinner, she did. She told him all about the Holbein in the Frick, and Serendipity, and Christmas Day with her family. In return, Daniel told her about his promotion, and the holiday period in Oxfordshire, which seemed to involve Cotswolds pubs and horse racing with his father.

‘I couldn’t wait to escape,’ he confided. ‘I couldn’t wait to get back to you.’

Whether it was true or not, Amy was happy to hear him say it at least. Daniel was certainly back to his affable, charming self. The Daniel she had fallen in love with almost twelve months earlier. The Daniel she could spend hours with just walking around a park or by a river, holding hands and swapping stories. The Daniel who was attentive, exciting and clever, the Daniel who had been chosen for the fast-track diplomatic service because he could make you feel so interesting and smart just by the way he listened to you. She had always thought that he could sort out various international hostilities just by taking all parties concerned to the pub for the night – no wonder he had smoothed over their argument at the Tower by the time the starters had arrived.

‘Come on,’ he said finally as he polished off his beef Wellington. ‘I can’t be bothered with pudding – can you? Let’s just get out of here.’

And as they stood and walked out of the restaurant, suddenly the question of whether they were back together didn’t need to be answered. Amy could tell they were together again, she could feel it in his touch, the protective way he led her through the hotel, the feeling when his fingertips found hers.

‘Daniel . . .’ she said, turning. ‘I—’

‘Dan Man! Is that you?’ A booming voice interrupted what she was about to say and an overweight man lurched towards them. ‘It
is
you, you old bugger!’

‘Gidster, how the bloody hell are you, old man?’ replied Daniel, gripping the man’s arm like they were long-lost brothers. He broke away and turned to Amy.

‘Amy Carrell, meet Gideon Maybar. We were at school together.’

‘Hell-o, Amy,’ said Gideon lasciviously, shamelessly looking her up and down. His tongue might as well have been hanging out. ‘You’ve fallen on your feet, eh, Dan-Dan?’ he added, nudging Daniel in the ribs.

‘So what brings you here, Gid?’ asked Daniel. ‘Christmas drinks?’

‘No, nothing so fun. We’re at a wedding in the ballroom. I’ve just come for a time out, quick puff on the old Cohiba.’

‘A wedding?’ laughed Daniel. ‘Not yours, I hope?’

Gideon laughed and shook his head.

‘No, Alex Dyer – you remember, in the year above us? Hey, why don’t you come and have a drink?’

‘Do you think he’ll mind?’

‘Course not – anything to distract him from the trouble and strife, eh?’

‘Should we pop in for one?’ asked Daniel, turning to Amy. Amy couldn’t think of anything she’d like less than walking into a room full of his drunken school friends, but she forced a smile. She could cope with this. In this dress, she could cope with anything.

‘That sounds great,’ she said, squeezing his warm hand in hers.

They followed Gideon into the ballroom, where Amy was surprised to find the dance floor full of couples dancing to a six-piece band. The whole place was done like a winter wonderland, and the bride, dressed in a long cream gown with a white fur shrug over her shoulders, looked like a Siberian queen.

‘Shall we dance?’ said Daniel.

‘You?’ laughed Amy.

‘I think I can dredge up a few moves, if you don’t mind me stepping on your toes every now and then.’

‘Then I accept, kind sir,’ said Amy, doing a mock-curtsey and grinning as he led her to the floor. He turned to face her and pulled her in close, one hand laid over hers, the other in the small of her back.

‘Not bad,’ she smiled. ‘You learnt some decent moves at that fancy school of yours.’

‘And I’ve learnt a few more tricks since I left,’ he said, pulling her tighter and beginning to guide her around the floor. He was rusty, but he had a natural kind of sway, and Amy resisted the urge to correct his mistakes – the man was supposed to lead, after all. A lady knew that, even if she was secretly calling the shots.

As the song finished, he deliberately brushed his lips against her neck. ‘You’re absolutely beautiful,’ he said softly.

‘You’re not too bad yourself,’ she replied with what she hoped was a sexy smile.

‘I don’t ever want to let you go.’

‘Then try a bit harder to keep me.’

‘I’m sorry about what happened. I was an idiot. You’re right. It’s about trying harder, and you know, Washington isn’t far. I was thinking, if we both do a transatlantic flight each month, then we can see each other every other fortnight. I know bankers who see their wives less than that.’ He gave a low, soft laugh, but she could tell he was anxious.

‘Do you mean that?’

‘Let me make it up to you. Let me start right now.’

‘Right now?’ she smiled pulling away from him.

‘I’ve checked us into the hotel,’ he said, searching her eyes. ‘If that’s what you’d like.’

‘I’d like that very much,’ she said, taking his hand and leading him from the dance floor, feeling sexy at being in charge.

They went up in the little lift to the second floor. One hand still holding hers, Daniel pushed open the door and then pulled her into the darkness of the room, not bothering to turn on the lights.

He pushed up the silk jersey and pressed her against the wall, cupping her buttocks, his hands searing through the soft fabric, his mouth lowering to kiss her bare shoulder.

‘That’s a lot of dress you’ve got on there. Is this some sort of designer chastity belt?’ he said as he struggled through the acres of fabric.

‘Let’s just get it off, shall we,’ she laughed softly as they stumbled towards the bed.

She pushed her hands down his boxer shorts, feeling the firm contours of his body, then brushed her palm over his prickle of pubic hair, over the entire length of him until he grew hard in her hand.

He unclipped her bra and peeled off her thong, and when they were both naked, they fell back on to the mattress. He straddled her and swooped down to suck her tight brown nipples, one, then the other, then down to her belly, kissing and stroking it with his breath, his lips, as if she were the sweetest thing he had ever tasted. He licked his fingers and pushed two of them inside her, finding such a hot, delicious spot that she groaned and arched her back, enjoying the sensation of feeling so desired. And as she spread her legs, she felt him push inside her, slowly at first, until she was full of him and they were moving in rhythm, the sweet energy building and building to such a white-hot climax that she did not want it to stop but at the same time she wasn’t sure if she could bear it to continue.

When Amy opened her eyes, the thin winter sun was leaking through a small gap in the blinds. Daniel, she thought with a smile, her hand sliding across to check he was still there, warm and solid. It wasn’t a dream after all. She looked across the room and saw Georgia’s dress lying on the floor like a pile of melted silk jersey.

‘Oh crap,’ she hissed, leaping out of bed to scoop it up, smoothing down the fine fabric.
Please don’t be damaged
, she thought. Georgia had been so kind to lend it to her, she couldn’t take it back screwed up in a ball.

‘Nice view.’

She jumped and straightened up, quickly holding the dress in front of her naked body. There was a pause, then she burst out laughing.

‘No point in hiding it all now,’ said Daniel with a lazy grin. He held out a hand to her and she carefully laid the dress on a chair and walked back to the bed.

‘You’re awake,’ she said, smoothing his hair back.

‘Sleep is a waste when I’ve got you next to me.’ He hooked his hand around her waist and tried to pull her back under the covers. ‘Come back to bed,’ he smiled.

‘Honey, I can’t. I’m due at the Forge later and I’ve got to go up to Primrose Hill, see Georgia, return some stuff.’

‘That won’t take long.’

‘I have to go home and change first,’ she said, standing up and pulling on her knickers.

‘You’re still pissed off, aren’t you?’

‘Dan, I have things to do today.’

He swung his legs out of bed and came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her.

‘When can I see you again?’ he said, nuzzling his lightly stubbled chin against her shoulder. ‘If it makes you happy, we’ll take it slow, but right now, I want to spend every night until I leave for Washington just like last night.’

‘That might be an expensive undertaking,’ she smiled, realising immediately that he could actually afford a room at Claridge’s from now until next Christmas just from the interest on his trust fund.

‘What are you doing on New Year’s Eve?’ he said, planting light kisses on a strip of her neck.

‘I think Cheryl wants me to work.’

‘Take the evening off. Tell Cheryl I’ll pay her staff wages for the night if I can get to spend it with you.’

She turned around to face him.

‘You’re kidding, right?’

‘Gideon mentioned he’s having a house party,’ he said, playing absently with his cock. ‘He has this great place in Docklands. We could go to that, then go to my mum and dad’s for this lunch thing they always have on New Year’s Day.’

‘No, no, no. I think I need to be kept away from your parents for a while.’

He stepped towards her and held her face in his hands.

‘Amy, I love you. I want to be with you and my family have to understand that. They’re not all bad, but if they make you uncomfortable, then say the word and we’ll just go to the party and spend the first day of the new year in bed at my place. We can call in pizza and watch crappy movies all day long. How about it?’ he said, stroking her nipple.

‘That sounds like a plan,’ she smiled, as they turned around and fell back on the bed.

The sunshine had pushed its way through the clouds by the time Amy emerged from Chalk Farm tube. It was still cold, her breath puffed in front of her and the frost on the pavement sparkled, but she had a spring in her step. In fact, it could have been pouring with rain and she would have felt like doing a Gene Kelly-style whirl around a lamp post. After leaving the hotel, she had been back to her flat to change and had a suit bag containing Georgia’s magic dress draped over her arm. She was back with Daniel, she had friends who cared – she felt on top of the world.

She stopped at the florist in the village and bought a nice bunch of tulips and rose verbena. As an afterthought, she popped into the newsagent’s to buy a Kit Kat. Usually she would have denied herself chocolate – in fact she had been denying herself pretty much everything since she was eleven, since her seriousness about ballet demanded that she stay flyweight and slim – but since her trip to Manhattan, things had changed. Not only did she feel lighter, more confident in her skin; she felt that there was a future ahead of her, a future with Daniel and maybe, just maybe, a future that didn’t involve dancing. Or at least one that might not involve Amy obsessively logging and justifying every calorie going into her body.

She was just turning into Georgia’s street and savouring the illicit joy of the chocolate when she spotted someone familiar. Early thirties, wearing jeans, a thick fisherman’s sweater and a stripy college scarf, he had the sort of brooding good looks of a Heathcliff or a Mr Rochester. For a moment she couldn’t remember where she had seen him before – some BBC period drama? she wondered to herself – before she realised it was Georgia’s relative Will.

He had obviously recognised her too. She watched him hesitate in his tracks, then, as he realised that a confrontation was unavoidable, slow his pace.

‘Hello,’ she said awkwardly when they were a few feet apart.

He stopped and nodded.

‘All right?’

‘Amy, Georgia’s friend,’ she said, feeling a little embarrassed.

‘I remember,’ he said tersely.

‘Happy Christmas,’ she said brightly. ‘Or should we be saying happy new year by now?’

‘I thought it was all happy holidays in the States,’ he replied in a tone that suggested that Americans were colonial heathens.

Hmm, and a merry Christmas to you, grumpy
, thought Amy.

They stood in clumsy silence for a second.

‘So did you have a good trip?’

‘It was great.’

‘You didn’t text me back.’

His dark eyes made her feel guilty again.

‘Will Hamilton,’ she replied as the penny dropped. ‘That was you.’ She tried not to squirm as she remembered the mystery text that she had read just a minute before Daniel’s call had distracted her from everything else.