Tripping on Love (12 page)

I focused on the Persian rug a short distance away. A pretty peach and cream decoration, blending perfectly with the rest of the room. I was almost certain my mother had received it as a gift from her Elvis wannabe ex-partner. Sadly he hadn’t the same taste in clothes. I stopped my train of thought. Shouldn't I be daydreaming about what Mark could be doing to me on the rug, not who bought it?

Mark reached for the zipper on my dress, as he took my hand and placed it suggestively against his hardness. Repulsion swept over me.

'Stop Mark, I can’t do this. Sorry, but I just can’t.' I stood up and looked down at him.

Confusion plastered itself across his face. Still so handsome and sexy but his forehead creased in misunderstanding.

'I don’t understand - I thought you were enjoying it?' he was standing facing me, waiting for answers. The air of sensuality was replaced with an awkward silence.

Shifting my weight from one foot to the other, I didn’t quite know how to explain it.
  It wouldn’t be fair to tell him that his kiss and touch irritated and repulsed me. Nor would it be fair to say that despite his sexy appearance, I felt more thrill at the prospect of eating a chocolate digestive than having sex with him. I gave a small, regretful shrug of my shoulders.

'It's not you Mark. It's me.'

His face filled with distaste and anger at my words.

'Of course it’s you. Do you not realise how many women would love to be in your position?'
  He shook his head angrily at me.

'You've just made a big mistake' he said
, standing up and fixing me with one last stare from his dark, moody eyes. 

I watched as he stormed from the room and headed towards the front door. The loud slam reverberated through the marble hallway as he departed. I stood alone in the darkness, watching his car speed off into the night from the safety of the hallway window.

That had been slightly awkward and humiliating for both of us, particularly Mark. However, at least I wasn’t now naked and having to disguise my repulsion with fake pleasure. I had never been good at acting.

I breathed a sigh of relief and slowly climbed the stairs to my bedroom.
My mother had a lot to answer for.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

I looked in the mirror and sighed sadly at my reflection. My hair hadn't adjusted to the change in water and frizzed heavily around my face. I noticed my skin was looking dry and the small wrinkles around my eyes were becoming more pronounced. I was only twenty eight years old and already in need of Botox. The sleepless night I’d had after my incident with Mark hadn’t helped matters.
 

Guilt loomed like a blackened cloud above my head. Although I wasn'
t in a relationship with Edward, it didn’t feel right to have overstepped the flirting boundary with Mark. A small part of me argued that sexual advances were physical acts of basic human need, whilst the other part questioned my morals.

What if I had enjoyed Mark's advances? It would have led to sex. Did I really want to be sleeping with other men whilst Edward was at the forefront of my interests? Was there really any hope for Edward and I?

It didn’t help that most of the people I knew at my age were already mothers. Or at least in long term relationships. Here I was, becoming a desperate case that saw every opportunity from doing the food shopping to putting petrol in the car, as an opportunity to meet someone special.

I had even jokingly made reference to joining my mother and Sampson at their weekly Salsa class. Sampson had been quick to point out it was for advanced dancers only. My mother's face had been a picture of relief. My suspicions were that she'd alluded to the other attendee's that she'd once represented the
UK at the Latin dance championships. Of course no such thing had happened.

Edward had brought such hope and romance into my life that I didn't want to contemplate whether it was to be short lived. The two dates we'd been on in the time that we'd known each other had been enough to convince me that we could have something special. Given that he hadn't called me, I would have to begin to accept that maybe he didn’t feel the same way.

I grabbed my bag, which had become surprisingly light since visiting Spain and headed out towards my mother's car. Soreena had suggested we meet in Puerto Banus.

A friend for many years, Soreena was a petite blonde who had grown up in
Marbella but had a passionate distaste for everything Spanish. Her wealthy English parents had provided her with all that money could buy. Everything, except a stable personality.

Mel and I
had met Soreena in our late teenage years, when my mother had first moved to Spain and we'd visited for a temporary period. Mel's quirky ways paled in comparison to Soreena's. Finally Mel had met someone she could mentally empathise with. 

The three months of living in
Marbella had been a blast and Soreena had introduced us both to the delights of the high life, and the breathtaking Spanish scenery, mainly discovered by accident after too many drunken nights and wrong directions home.

Neither of us had managed to keep in regular contact with her after she'd emigrated to
Dubai, to live with a wealthy Arab oil tycoon. It was only by chance that my mother had recently bumped into her family member. After polite conversation, she'd learned that Soreena was back living in Marbella following the relationship break down. It didn’t take me long to track her and arrange a lunch date.

As I pulled the car into the valet parking area outside the venue at which we'd agreed to meet, I allowed mysel
f one last check in the overhead mirror. It didn't matter that five years had passed since we'd last seen one another; Soreena was an open and direct person.

Even our phone conversation to arrange the lunch, had been as easy and fluid as if we'd last spoken only days prior.
  If anyone would know what to do about Edward, Soreena would. For all her demanding and spoilt ways, she imparted wise, thoughtful advice. 

The port looked as luscious and elegant in the sunshine as it did every time I visited. Palm trees lined the roads, as various super cars and exquisitely dressed people passed by me. Most were headed for the front line, where large yachts, liners and boats took pride of place on the water, and the surrounding restaurants, shops and bars catered for the wealthy and indulgent.

I weaved in and out of people as I headed towards the entrance of Don Leones restaurant. There was no sign of Soreena. The restaurant was already filled with diners and the open awning meant I was in full view of those seated. I fished in my bag for my bronzer compact and brush. Touching a little of the powder onto my cheekbones for accentuation, I caught the reflection of a familiar profile.

Mark was seated at the back of the restaurant sitting happily in the company of an older, well dressed woman. They were smiling and appeared relaxed together. Mark's moody, serious look
was replaced with a carefree and content air. Bile rose in my throat; the last thing I wanted was an embarrassing scene. The woman was reaching across for Marks hand, gently placing hers over his. Their body language was solemn.

'Oh my word! Look at you.' Soreena's voice caused me to snap shut my compact as I was greeted with a tight hug and lots of thick blonde hair in my face.

We squealed in unison with excitement. Stepping back to survey me, I was shocked as I took in Soreena's more rounded appearance.  She was twice the size I'd last seen her at and her usual well preened demeanour was lacking finesse.

'Soreena
, you look so different - very healthy' I said tactfully, hoping the shock on my face hadn't revealed my true thoughts.

'Oh do be quiet
, Lizzie – it's written all over your face that I’m bigger and more unkempt than usual.' She laughed loudly, oblivious to the stares from the diners at the table near to us. 'Well it's only to be expected, I suppose, given that I had an arsehole of a fiancée. He treated me like a queen until I realised it was all pretence and he was no more than a controlling, manipulative monster.' 

Her face creased into a huge smile and she grabbed my arm and marched me into the entrance before I could comment.

Aware of Mark's back to me on the far left side of the restaurant, I was relieved when the waiter directed us to a table towards the front right. I seated myself facing forward and hoped Soreena wouldn’t pick up on my nervousness.

'So
, aside from the fact that you clearly eat a lot less than I do, what else have you been doing with yourself these past years?' Soreena asked inquisitively, picking up a bread roll from the basket between us and breaking a piece off.

Putting Mark from my mind, I filled her in on my split from Will, followed by stories of Mel, Edward, my work and finally my incident with Mark. Her eyes grew wide as
I told her the story, beginning at my mother's gathering and ending with a dramatic voice that Mark was here in the restaurant. Right at this very moment.

'No?' her head instinctively flew in all directions and if I wasn't so on edge I would have laughed.

'Where is he? I can't see him' she said still craning her neck around, attracting attention from nearby tables. The waiter discreetly approached. 

'I'm sorry madam, is there a problem? Would you like to order something else?'

'No' we said in unison a little too loudly and rudely. There always had to be one person to ruin the moment and the waiter had dispelled our drama.

'I do apologise. I assumed you were trying to get my attention.' He looked uncomfortable as he scuttled away. I hoped it wasn't his first day.

'OK, in a moment, look to your left. Past the fat man with Caesar dressing on his chin, beyond the redhead with the pink necklace and fake boobs. He's the one in the light blue shirt, sitting with that old bulldog of a woman.' I instructed Soreena.

She discreetly turned her head far longer than the few seconds that she should have, and turned back towards
me with a shocked expression.

'Mark Williams?! All this time you've been chatting about Mark Williams
?' she picked up her large glass of wine and took a healthy gulp. She burst into laughter. 'I can't believe you turned down Mark Williams!' Good on you for not wasting your energy on that one.'

I eyed her questioningly. Soreena knew everyone along the coast and if anyone was to know the tit for tat stories that had circulated, it was bound to be her.

'Firstly, the woman he is dining with is his elderly mother. She had him late in life and they have a notoriously close relationship. Quite frankly, I'm shocked you managed to get as far as your living room with him, without her tagging along.'

Big strike number one. Moody Mark had an interfering mother. I wasn't sure if I felt relief at the fact she was his mother or horror, seeing as I’d assumed she was flirting with him. Soreena continued.

'He is also known as a total slag along this coast. I bet you would be hard pushed to find anyone that hadn’t at some point had their legs wrapped around him.' She smirked slyly.

'You've slept with Mark?' I gasped.

'Well if you can call it that; I was young and he was available. It lasted a whole two minutes before he had to rush off somewhere. Probably to go and call his mother' she smiled.

Laughing, I picked up my wine glass.

‘Now I’ve discovered he's a sex mad mummy's boy, I don’t feel quite so bad about turning down his advances.’

Surprisingly
, Soreena's revelation had made me feel much better about things. Mark was used to flirting and luring women into his bed; I was only intended as another notch on his bed post. Being disloyal to Edward didn't come into the equation; I had simply been seduced by Mark and thankfully, it hadn’t worked. Looking up, I smiled at Soreena.

'I think it's about time us girls got around to planning a night out, don't you? Think of all those men waiting for us to change their lives.’ We both giggled and got stuck into the huge seafood salads that were sitting untouched before us.

During lunch, I had learned all about Soreena's recent relationship and life in Dubai. Amongst the glitter and glamour of it all was a sad, touching side.

Soreena had been promised a life of diamonds and instead had been forced to endure Swarovski crystal. It was only nat
ural she'd leave him in the end; Soreena would never settle for less than perfection.

As the wine flowed, so too did further revelations. I learnt that Soreena had recently met a new prospective partner whom she was keeping under wraps. Furthermore, that Mark had once been caught by his mother in bed with another person.
  Unexpectedly, the other person was a man named Michael. After my astonishment subsided, I felt slightly sick that I’d allowed Mark's tongue to come anywhere near me.

Soreena excused herself to attend the restroom, as I finished eating the last remnants of my braised pears. Only as the waiter approached to clear our table, did I spot Mark walking towards me.
Unable to hide my awkwardness, especially after the stories that had been revealed, I averted my gaze. It wasn't enough to avoid the harsh stare that he fixed upon me as he got closer. 

Hoping to avoid a scene,
I focused my attention on the waiter and requested the bill. It worked. Mark carried on walking straight past me; without a word of recognition, he headed for the door. His mother, frail and elderly, followed closely behind him.

Soreena returned just as my pulse started to settle back to its regular pace.