Текст книги "This Man"
Автор книги: Jodi Ellen Malpas
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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 32 страниц)
‘I know, darling. How’s Kate?’ she asks. Mum still loves Kate. She was as devastated as I was when she and Dan called it quits.
‘She’s great.’
‘Good. Have you heard from Matt?’ she asks tentatively. I know she’s hoping it’s a big resounding NO. She wasn’t as devastated when Matt and I split up. He wasn’t Mum’s favourite person. Come to think of it, Matt wasn’t many peoples favourite person. We’ve talked since we split, but Mum doesn’t need to know that.
‘No, I’m just getting on with things.’ I inform her, hearing her sigh in relief. I won’t volunteer exactly what I have been getting on with. I’m too ashamed of myself.
‘Okay. Joseph, get the door, will you? Ava, I’ve got to go. Sue’s here to pick me up for yoga.’
‘Okay, Mum. I’ll ring next week.’
‘Okay. Good luck for your launch and have some fun!’ she orders. I know she thinks I’ve wasted seven years on two worthwhile relationships. She’s right. I have.
‘Bye, Mum.’
I hang up. Dan’s coming home. Well, that’s cheered me up a little. And I always feel better when I’ve spoken to my Mum. They’re miles away and I miss them like crazy, but I’m comforted by the fact that they’ve escaped the rat race of London, taking early retirement in Newquay after Dad’s heart attack scare.
My phone starts ringing and I look at the screen, expecting to see my Mothers number – she’s probably forgot to lock the keypad and sat on it – but it’s not. It’s Jesse Ward.
Ughhhhhhhhh! ‘Reject.’ I huff as I red button him and throw my phone on my bed. I leave my bedroom to go and join Kate on the sofa, hearing it ring again as I walk down the hall. I ignore it. The man is relentless. At least I don’t have to see him again. He’s given me the perfect reason to flatly refuse designing anything for him.
Chapter 6
‘Morning,’ I sing to Tom as I sashay past his desk on Thursday.
He looks up at me over his thick framed spectacles – a blatant fashion statement and Tom’s effort to be taken more seriously. I should tell him to lose the canary yellow dress shirt and grey trousers that are verging on leggings. That would do the trick.
‘Did someone get laid?’ He smirks. ‘Join the club, I’m exhausted!’
‘No! Tom, you’re such a tart.’ I feign a disgusted look as I throw my bag down by my desk. ‘Anything to report?’ I ask to divert the conversation from Tom’s sexcapades.
‘Nope, I’m just going over to Mrs Baines to give her a cuddle. You know, she rang me at eleven last night to ask if she could expect the electricians in this morning. Interrupted me right in the middle of…’
‘Enough!’ I hold my hands up. ‘I don’t want to know.’ I sit down, swinging my chair around to face him.
‘Apologies, darling. It was really good though!’ He winks. ‘Anyway, she’s in a panic because her summer ball is scheduled for July and she wants all the works completed in time. There’s not a hope, darling! If she would just stop changing her bloody mind, then we might get somewhere.’ He springs up from his chair and air kisses me from ten feet away. ‘Au Revoir, darling!’
‘Bye. Oh, where’s Victoria?’ I shout after him.
‘Appointments.’ he calls, shutting the door behind him.
I turn to face my desk as Sally places a coffee in front of me. I pick it up immediately, taking a sip while she hovers at my desk nervously.
‘Patrick called to remind you that he’s not in today.’ she says.
‘Thank you, Sally. Did you have a good weekend?’
She smiles, nodding enthusiastically as she pushes her glasses up her nose. ‘I did, thank you for asking. I finished my cross-stitch and cleaned all the windows, inside and out. It was wonderful.’ she says dreamily as she scurries off to file some invoices.
Cleaning windows? Wonderful? The girl is sweet, but good Lord, she’s as dull as dish water.
I spend a few hours working through my email to clear my inbox. I check the final clean-up of Lusso is complete and grab my phone when it starts dancing across my desk. I roll my eyes when I see who’s illuminating my screen. He just will not give up. Yesterday was a relentless bombardment of calls – all of which I rejected – and he’s still at it. I’ve got to speak to the man eventually. He has something that I need…my car.
At one o’clock, I leave the office to meet Kate for lunch.
‘Are there any decent men left in the world?’ she asks thoughtfully, dabbing her mouth with a napkin. ‘I’m losing the will to live.’
‘It wasn’t that bad, was it?’ I ask. Her date yesterday evening was a failure. When she walked into the apartment at nine thirty, I knew it couldn’t be good news.
She drops her napkin on her empty plate, pushing it away. ‘Ava, when a man gets a calculator out at the end of a meal to work out what you owe, it’s usually not a good sign.’
I laugh. No, this is not a good sign; it’s equality gone mad. The modern man needs to catch on to the fact that women want to be treated as equals, but only when it suits us. The modern woman’s fierce need for independence doesn’t mean we want to pay for our half of a meal, or that we don’t want a man to hold a door open for us. We still want to be looked after, but on our terms.
‘So, you won’t be seeing him again?’
She scoffs. ‘No, the bill saga was bad enough. When he dropped me home in the taxi and accepted the twenty I offered him, it finished me off.’
‘You were a cheap date.’ I giggle.
‘Yeah.’ She picks up her phone and starts tapping away at the screen, holding it up to show me. ‘One BLT and two waters, you owe twelve quid.’ We both have a little laugh at Kate’s failed date. I love that she can be so lighthearted about it. Kate maintains that it will happen when it happens. I’m with her on this.
‘When will your car be ready?’ she asks.
Crap! She’s supposed to be borrowing it to visit her Nan in Yorkshire on Saturday, and it’s Thursday already. I need to sort this out. ‘I’ll give the garage a ring later.’ I assure her.
‘I don’t mind taking the van.’
‘No, it’s fine. I don’t think Margo will get you there.’ She’s a twenty year old, hot pink VW camper van that spits and fires all over London on cake deliveries. Kate’s carbon footprint must be huge.
My phone shouts and Kate leans over to see who’s calling me. I whip it off the table, far too hastily. But it’s too late. I look at her nervously as I red button him again, before placing it back on the table as casually as I can. My jumpy reaction doesn’t get past Kate. Not much does.
‘Jesse,’ she says with an arched brow. ‘What would he want?’
I’ve not shared any of the hideous events of Tuesday with Kate. I’m too ashamed.
I shrug. ‘Who knows?’
‘Have there been any more suggestive texts?’
Oh, more than texts. There have been endless phone calls and the fact that he tricked me into going back to The Manor on the pretense that I was designing, only to have me trapped in one of his hotel suites so he could seduce me. Kate would thrive on my misfortune, which is exactly why I’ve not told her. If I don’t hear the words out loud, then I can almost pretend it didn’t happen…almost. I’m a fool. I’ve thought of little else, and he’s not helping me in my attempt to eradicate him from my mind with all his calls. I don’t need to be getting involved with anyone, especially someone who’s already involved with someone else. Besides, I’m just a mission for him to accomplish. The man’s a playboy and not the sort of man I need to be getting involved with. He quite obviously has commitment issues. I don’t like Sarah, but I do feel sorry for her.
‘No.’ I answer on a sigh.
She looks at me questioningly, making me feel like I’m under examination. I am. I’m twiddling my hair. I release it on a huff.
‘You deserve some fun.’ she says thoughtfully. Fun? I don’t call getting tied up with an involved man fun by any stretch of the imagination. I call it stupid! ‘After Matt, you definitely deserve some fun.’
I’m keen not to get into a conversation about Matt. Kate doesn’t know that he still calls me now and then. I don’t know why he does.
‘I’ve got to get back to work,’ I lean over, giving Kate a peck on the cheek. ‘Luv ya.’
‘Yeah, ditto. I’ll be late tonight. There’s a cake convention at The Hilton.’ She gets up, waving me away when I try to give her some money for lunch. ‘It’s my turn.’
I put my money back in my purse. ‘Okay, but it’s my shout next time.’
We leave each other outside the bar, Kate heading back to her workshop, me back to the office.
***
I collapse onto the sofa when I get home. I need an early night. Tomorrow will be a long day at Lusso and I need to be on form. My phone rings. I roll my eyes as I look at the screen, but it’s not who I expected it to be. It’s Matt. I groan to myself. When will my phone ring and it be someone that I actually want to speak to?
‘Hi,’ I all but groan.
‘All right?’ he greets, with his usual confident tone.
‘Yeah, and you?’ I know he’s fine. I’ve heard he’s out almost every night, catching up on lost time. Not that our relationship prevented him from living exactly how he wanted to anyway.
‘All good. I was ringing to wish you luck for tomorrow. It’s tomorrow, right?’
I’m surprised he remembered. He never really took an interest in my career. ‘Yeah, thanks. I was just thinking about getting an early night.’
‘Oh, okay, I won’t keep you then,’ He sounds disappointed. ‘I’ve boxed up the rest of your things.’
‘Oh, right,’
‘There’s no rush,’ he adds. ‘If you’re free sometime, it would be nice to catch up.’
It would? Catch up on what? How many women he’s slept with since I left? It’s nice that we’re still on talking terms, I did spend four years with the guy, but he’s taking the whole “let’s be friends” role a bit too far, treating me like one of his mates and filling me in on all of his latest conquests. I don’t care, but I also don’t want to hear about it.
‘Sure, I’ll ring you.’ I suggest.
‘Make sure you do, I miss you.’
WHOA! Where did that come from? Is he drunk? ‘You do?’ I ask. The shock in my voice is quite clear.
He laughs. ‘I do. Good luck tomorrow.’
I hang up and sit wondering if it’s time to collect my things and sever all ties. I’m not so sure the friend’s scenario is going to work with us. Does it ever work? My phone rings again, but it’s a number that I don’t recognise.
‘Ava O’Shea.’ I announce down the line, but there’s no reply. ‘Hello?’
‘Are you alone?’
The voice hits me like a sledgehammer to the gut. Oh, fucking hell. I stand up and sit back down again. Visions of him stood half naked before me, pleading to me with his eyes, start to assault my mind’s eye. This is exactly why I’ve been avoiding his calls. The affect he has on me is unsettling and most unwelcome.
Why didn’t his name come up on my phone? ‘No.’ I lie, a sweat breaking out across my brow.
I hear him sigh. It’s a loud sigh. ‘Why are you lying to me?’
I jump back up from the sofa. How does he know? Darting across the lounge, my wine swishing out of my glass, I look out of the window to the road, but I can’t see his car. How does he know I’m alone? In a panic and with a lump in my throat, I hang up. It rings again immediately. I chuck my phone onto the couch and let it ring off. And then it rings again.
‘Go away!’
I pace the lounge, biting my nails and swigging my wine. Tuesday’s events flood back into my mind, but not the bad stuff. Oh, no…it’s all the bloody good stuff. How he made me feel, how his hands felt on me. Everything before I heard the shrill, cold voice of his girlfriend. I slam a lid on my thoughts immediately. I’m a pawn in his sexual exploits, and he’s probably feeling hard done by after I pulled the plug on his charade. My phone declares a text message. I creep cautiously towards the sofa, like my phone might launch itself upwards and bite me.
For God’s sake, I’m being pathetic. I grab my phone and open the text.
Answer your phone!
It rings again in my hand, making me jump, even though I completely expected it. He’s relentless. I let it ring off again and, quite childishly, text back,
No
I pace some more, up and down, swigging wine and clutching my phone. It’s not long before another text arrives.
Fine, I’m coming in.
‘What? Oh no!’ I shout at my phone. It is one thing ignoring the phone, but it’s a whole other level of resistance trying to repel him when he’s flesh and blood and looking right at me.
Shit, shit, shit! I frantically pull up my call log to call him. It rings once.
‘Too late, Ava.’ he drawls down the line. I stare at my phone in uncertainty, and then the banging starts.
I run onto the landing, leaning over the banister as he hammers on the door.
‘Open the door, Ava.’ He bangs again.
What’s he thinking? Is he that desperate?
Bang, bang, bang!
‘Ava, I’m not going anywhere until you talk to me, please.’
Bang, bang, bang!
‘I’ve got your keys, Ava. I’ll let myself in.’
Oh shit. He would as well. Okay, I’ll let him in, listen to what he has to say, and then he can leave. Anyway, I need my car back. I’ll just have to keep as far away from him as possible, keep my eyes closed and hold my breath so I can’t smell him. I must not let him breach my defences. I put my glass down on the console table at the top of the stairs and look at myself in the mirror. My hairs piled up on top of my head, but at least I haven’t taken my make up off yet. It could be worse. Wait…why am I worried, anyway? The worse I look the better, surely? He needs telling to back off.
Bang, bang, bang!
I storm down the stairs in confident and determined strides, opening the door in a huff. I’m doomed. I keep underestimating – or forgetting – the affect this man has on me. I’m trembling already.
His hands are braced on the door frame as he looks up at me through hooded lids, panting and looking really quite pissed. His blonde hair is all disheveled, he has his stubble back and his pale pink shirt is undone at the collar, tucked into grey trousers. He looks delicious.
He punches holes into me with his sludgy eyes. ‘Why did you stop it?’ His breathing is laboured.
‘What?’ I ask impatiently. He’s here to ask me that? Isn’t it obvious?
He grits his teeth. ‘Why did you run out on me?’
‘Because it was a mistake,’ I grate, through equally gritted teeth. My irritation at his audacity is overpowering the other more unwelcome affect he’s having on me.
‘It wasn’t a mistake, and you know it,’ he grinds. ‘The only mistake was me letting you go.’
What? Oh, I can’t do this. I go to push the door shut, but his hand slams against the other side to stop it.
‘Oh, no you don’t.’ He pushes against me, easily overpowering me, and steps into the hallway, slamming the door behind him. ‘You’re not running this time. You’ve done it to me twice already, not again. You’re going to face the music.’
With bare feet, I’m almost a foot shorter than him. I feel small and weak as he towers over me, still breathing hard. I back away, but he walks forward, keeping the distance between us minimal. My plan to maintain space is failing fast, and he smells divine in all his minty, fresh water magnificence.
‘You need to leave. Kate will be home in a minute.’
He stops his approach, scowling at me. ‘Stop lying,’ he snaps, slapping my hand away from my hair. ‘Quit the bullshit, Ava.’
I have no idea what to say to him. Defence isn’t working – maybe disinterest. He’s incredibly thick skinned and obviously use to getting what he wants.
I turn away to walk back up the stairs. ‘Why are you here?’ I ask, but before I make it very far, he’s behind me and grabbing at my wrist. I’m spun around to face him, the contact putting me on instant red alert. I know I’m on dangerous ground here. Just being near this man turns me into a reckless, irrational fool. This is plain kamikaze territory. Why did I let him in?
‘You know why.’ he spits.
‘Do I?’ I ask incredulously. I do, actually. Well, I think I do. He wants to pick up where we left off. He wants mission accomplished.
‘Yes, you do.’ he says simply.
I yank my wrist from his grip, backing up until my butt hits the wall behind me. ‘Because you want to hear how loud I’ll scream?’
‘No!’
‘You are, undeniably, the most arrogant arsehole I’ve ever met. I’m not interested in becoming a sexual conquest.’
‘Conquest?’ he snorts, turning away and commencing pointless pacing. ‘What fucking planet are you on, woman?’
I stand there in utter shock. How dare he come here and start shouting the odds at me. I feel my unease disappear and my earlier irritation convert into boiling rage. The urgent need to defend myself, to put him straight, has my jaw clenched to aching point. His opinion of me is very low if he thinks I’ll just jump into bed with any man I meet. But then, I don’t have to answer to him. The fact that he has a girlfriend is immaterial at this point. He thinks he can just take what he wants or throw a wobbly if he meets some resistance.
‘Get out!’
He stops pacing and looks at me. ‘No!’ he yells, recommencing his marching.
I start thinking of how to get him out of the house. I’m never going to be able to manhandle him and touching him would be a massive mistake. ‘I’m not fucking interested! Now, get out.’ My shaky voice lets down my cool front, but I stand firm.
‘Watch your fucking mouth!’
Oh, the cheek. ‘Get out!’
‘Okay,’ he says simply, quitting the marching to hammer me with his stare. ‘Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t want to see me again, and I’ll go. You’ll never have to lay eyes on me again.’
Okay, that should be relatively easy, but to my utter shock, the thought of not seeing him again actually sends a nasty ache to my stomach, which is, of course, completely ridiculous. He’s a virtual stranger to me, but God does he spark a reaction in me. He makes me feel... I’m not sure exactly what it is. But even now, when I’m raging at his damn nerve, I’m fighting to control the unwanted reactions he sparks in me.
When I say nothing, he starts advancing towards me, his long, even strides having him directly in front of me in just a few paces. There’s barely an inch between us.
‘Say it.’ he breathes.
I can’t get my mouth to function. I’m aware of my shallow breathing, pounding heart and a dull throb in my groin. I’m alert to similar reactions emanating from him. I can see his heart hammering under his pale pink shirt. I can feel his heavy, minty breath on my face. I can’t vouch for the throb, but I suspect it’s there. The sexual tension ricocheting between our close bodies is tangible.
‘You can’t, can you?’ he whispers.
I can’t! I’m trying. I’m trying really hard, but the bloody words won’t come out. The proximity of our bodies and him breathing on me is re-establishing all of those incredible feelings. I’ve been catapulted back to our previous encounter, except this time there’s no risk of being interrupted by unfriendly girlfriends. Nothing to stop me, apart from my conscience, but that’s drowning in desire right now, so it’s of no help to me, whatsoever.
He places the tip of his finger on my shoulder, his touch sending an inferno racing through me, and slowly, lightly, he drags his finger up the column of my neck until it rests at the sensitive pressure point under my ear.
My heart goes into overdrive.
‘Boom…boom…boom,’ he breathes. ‘I can feel it, Ava.’
I go rigid, pushing myself further into the wall. ‘Please, leave.’ I barely get the words out.
‘Put your hand over my heart.’ he whispers, grabbing my hand and placing it on his chest. He needn’t have done that. I can see his heart going ten to the dozen under his shirt. I didn’t need to feel it.
‘What’s your point?’ I ask quietly. I know exactly what his point is. He’s just as affected by me as I am by him.
‘You are one stubborn woman. Let me ask you the same question.’
‘What do you mean?’ I ask quietly, still not looking at him.
‘I mean, why are you trying to stop the inevitable? What’s your point, Ava?’ Wrapping his fingers around my neck, he tilts my face up so I meet his eyes.
I’m immediately consumed by them. His lips are parted and moist, his minty breath invading my nose, his blazing eyes staring down at me. His long lashes are fanning his cheek bones as he leans down so his lips brush my ear. I release a quiet gasp.
‘There it is,’ he murmurs as he trails feathery light kisses down the side of my throat. ‘You feel it.’
I do. I’m incapable of stopping this. Any rational thinking has been besieged. I’m completely immobilised. My brain has shut down and my body is taking over. As his mouth works its way across my jaw, I reside myself to the fact that I’m lost – to him, I am lost. But then I hear the sound of a mobile phone ringing. It’s not mine, but the interruption is enough to snap me out of the trance he sends me into. Oh God, it’s probably Sarah.
I raise my hands to his firm chest and shove him away. ‘Stop, please!’
He pulls away, yanking his phone from his pocket. ‘Fuck!’ He rejects the call and looks at me. ‘You still haven’t said it.’
I’m staggered at my inability to utter some very simple words. ‘I’m not interested.’ I whisper. I sound desperate, and I know it. ‘You have to stop this. Whatever you think you felt, what you think I felt, you’re mistaken.’ I don’t mention Sarah because that would be admitting that I can feel something, that she’s the only reason I’m stopping this. It’s not, of course. There’s the obvious age gap, the fact that he has heartbreaker written all over him, and the even more important part…he’s a cheater.
He laughs a proper amused laugh. ‘Think? Ava, don’t you dare try and pass this off as a figment of my imagination. Did I imagine that? Just then, was that my imagination? Give me some credit.’
‘You give me some fucking credit!’
‘Mouth!’ he shouts.
‘I told you to leave.’ I say calmly.
‘And I told you, look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t want me.’ He stares at me expectantly, like he knows I can’t say it.
‘I don’t want you.’ I murmur, looking straight into his green pools. It actually causes me physical pain. I’m shocked.
He inhales sharply, looking wounded. ‘I don’t believe you.’ he says softly, flicking his eyes to my twiddling fingers.
I remove them instantly. ‘You should.’ I define the words clearly, and it takes every bit of strength I have.
We stare at each other for what seems like an eternity, but I’m the first to look away. I can think of nothing more to say, and I silently implore him to leave before I take the dangerous path I know he’ll be. He runs his hands through his hair in frustration, curses and stalks out. When the front door slams behind him, I allow air to rush into my lungs as I sag against the wall.
That was, irrefutably, the most difficult thing I’ve ever done, which is crazy, because by reason, it should have been the easiest. I can’t even begin to understand the whys and wherefores of it. His wounded expression when I conformed to his demands to deny that I wanted him had nearly crippled me. I wanted to scream, “I felt it too!” but where would that have got me? I know exactly where – against the wall with Jesse buried deep inside me. And while the thought of that makes me shiver with pleasure, it would be a gargantuan mistake. I feel riddled with guilt already at my deplorable behavior. The man is a cheating arse. An Adonis to boot, but a cheating arse, nonetheless. Everything about this man screams trouble. And he’s still got my fucking keys.
I shudder and head for a shower, content that I’ve done the right thing. I’ve put Jesse Ward in his place and saved myself another boat load of guilt. I shall ignore the painful ache in my gut because acknowledging it would be as good as admitting out loud, to myself and Jesse, that…yes, I felt it too.
