Emergency at Bayside (12 page)

‘I’m serious, Meg.’

So was she. Incredible as his words were, as much as they had taken her completely by surprise, it was as clear to Meg as crystal that she loved him. ‘We hardly know each other.’

‘I know that I love you.’ He put down his glass and crossed the room. ‘Don’t ask me to tell you when it happened, because I can’t be sure. But looking down at you in resus that morning, yours eyes like a wary kitten, bits of glass strewn through your hair, I wanted to pick you up and take you home. If there’s such a thing as love at first sight then it happened to me.’

He ran a finger along her cheek. ‘Meg, I never thought I’d be saying this again, but being with you just feels so right.’

‘I know it does—but marriage?’ She looked up at him. ‘Flynn, we haven’t even slept together.’

He gave a low, throaty laugh, his tongue tracing the length of her neck, making her toes curl as he nuzzled deeper. ‘We can soon put that right.’

One hand was stealing along her waist, searching fingers locating her zip and sliding it down as his warm hand slid inside. With a low moan she felt his hand on the soft mound of her breast, his finger and thumb massaging her nipple. His other hand was brushing her strappy dress down over her shoulders
and, moving back slightly, he watched with unmasked admiration as it fluttered to the floor. His tie, already undone, was easily removed, and with almost indecent haste they both attacked his shirt. The need to feel him naked against her was an instinct as natural as breathing. The heavy buckle of his trousers and the tiny silver zip were teasing obstacles for her long nails. Tugging at his trousers, she ran her hand along the solid dusky-haired thighs, the taut, muscular buttocks.

There was nothing now to stop them—no physical obstacle anyway. Just one big question that Meg needed the answer to.

‘Are you sure?’

He nodded, the same affirmative nod she had grown so used to, but it had bigger ramifications now. ‘Are you?’

Oh, she was sure. Never had she been more so. ‘I don’t want you to regret…’

‘Shh.’ Pulling her up, he held her close for a moment. She could hear his heart pounding in his chest, and his fingers were lost in her long dark curls as she closed her eyes and let his words wash over her, soothe yet simultaneously excite her. ‘I know how I feel, Meg, and I know how you make me feel. And as long as it’s right for you then there’s nothing for either of us to regret.’ He wrapped his arms tighter around her, pulled her closer if that was possible. ‘Is it, Meg? Is it right for you too?’

She nodded into his chest, salty tears of love and joy slipping down her cheeks, moistening his glistening skin beneath her. He laid her down on the floor
gently, slowly. Each kiss, each touch, was measured, calculated to bring her to the very edge of reason, the very edge of oblivion. He parted her soft thighs, his fingers tracing the yielding flesh of her womanhood until she groaned for mercy, quivering with desire, almost begging him to enter her welcoming warmth. As he entered her a strangled gasp was forced from her lips, muffled by the weight of his kiss. Then her hips were rising to meet his, grinding in unison, pulling him deeper. He was taking her further than she had ever been in her life, the throbbing intensity of her sweet surrender causing her to cry out his name.

She knew she shouldn’t compare—Vince and Flynn were two different entities entirely. And in truth there was no comparison. The exquisite tenderness of Flynn’s lovemaking, the adoration in his eyes, should have washed away all the pain of her past. But when Flynn scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bedroom, gently laying her down and pulling the sheet over her, she felt a surge of panic as he smiled down at her and moved for the door. This was the point when Vince had left. When he’d suddenly remembered an early client, or the car service, when he had kissed her goodbye and said that he’d ring her in the morning.

‘Where are you going?’ Her voice was tentative, the tiniest note of panic creeping in, and Flynn turned with a quizzical look in his eyes.

‘To get some water. Do you want some?’

Relief washed over her. ‘Please.’

‘Where did you think I was going?’ He stood there,
naked and gorgeous. Evading the question, attempting a diversion, Meg stretched seductively on the bed.

But he didn’t respond and, looking up, she could see the hurt in his eyes.

‘Meg, where did you think I was going?’ His voice was slightly louder, more insistent.

‘Home,’ she admitted finally.

‘You think I’d just get up and leave? We just made love, for heaven’s sake. Didn’t anything I said count?’

Meg rolled on her side, facing the wall. Anything other than see the pained look in his eyes. ‘Of course it did.’

‘Then why did you think I was going home?’

‘Just leave it, Flynn. Please,’ she added. But Flynn was having none of it. In two short steps he crossed the room. Sitting on the bed, he raked his fingers through his hair, hardly making a mark in his jet black hair.

‘I’m not leaving it, Meg. I went to get a glass of water and you—’

‘I made a mistake,’ she interrupted. ‘Vince—’

It was Flynn that interrupted now, his voice angry, trembling with fury, but Meg knew that it wasn’t aimed at her.

‘I’m not Vince. Don’t ever compare me to him.’ His eyes flashed to her and in a second the anger evaporated. Seeing her lying there on the bed, confused, he felt his heart melt. ‘I’d never hurt you, Meg. Don’t let that excuse for a man ruin it for us.’

‘He won’t,’ she said, her voice trembling. ‘He won’t,’ she said again with more conviction.

He pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her
hair, breathing in her sweet perfumed scent and feeling her fragile and vulnerable beneath his touch. Nothing else but that moment mattered. All he wanted to do was love her, adore her, and all she wanted was him.

Their lovemaking was slower this time, gentler, but the passion, the breathtaking rollercoaster ride of discovering each other, was just as enthralling. And afterwards, as they lay spent in each other’s arms, there was no shame in her tears, no turning away and pretending to sleep. Just the gentle peace of acceptance, the utter joy of a new love born.

I
T SHOULD
have been perfect.

It almost was.

Meg awoke slowly, lying on her stomach, feeling the heavy weight of his leg over her, an arm draped over her back and the soft kiss of his breath on her shoulder. Wriggling slightly, she turned her head, watching Flynn sleep. Watching the sun on his face, the full sensual mouth, the dark hair, his eyelashes short jet spikes, and she waited.

Waited for the pang of guilt, the shame of the morning after, the desire to pull the sheet over her head and groan with embarrassment.

It didn’t come.

Instead Meg realised she was actually smiling. Smiling as she watched him wake—the way his eyes screwed up and his lips curled, the restless movements of a body coming out of a deep long sleep. One lazy eye opened, immediately closing as a shaft of sun hit it.

‘Morning.’ Meg grinned.

He ran a lazy hand over her bottom and despite his grumbling as he awoke Meg knew he was delighted to feel her there from the way he luxuriously touched her. ‘Is it morning already?’

‘Has been for ages.’

He ran a tongue over his lips. ‘I shouldn’t have had that liqueur.’

Meg laughed. ‘Tell me about it! Do you want some coffee?’

He nodded gratefully. ‘And a gallon of water.’

Slipping on a robe, Meg padded out to the kitchen. It was only when she was alone, watching the water spurt through the filter machine, that the demons crept in. What if he thought less of her? What if he was lying there across the hall right this minute regretting every moment? What if that dig about drinking a liqueur was his way of saying that he’d never have slept with her if he hadn’t had too much too drink?

Stop it.

Pulling the ice tray out of the fridge, she broke some on the bench and filled a long glass. His intentions had been clear long before they had even arrived back at her flat. He had told her he loved her, practically proposed to her! Meg ran the glass under the tap, mentally shaking herself. She was being an idiot.

And anyway, the grin that greeted her when she padded back into the bedroom, balancing a tray and a mountain of Sunday papers, was more than enough to suspend any doubts.

‘God, I love Sundays.’

‘Me too.’

He read every last piece of the papers, his hand running over her body now and then and taking breaks to kiss her, to laugh with her. Somewhere between the business page and the colour supplement he made love to her all over again, and for a while there Meg thought she had died and gone to heaven.

For a while.

‘Hey, sleepy head.’ Flynn broke into her postcoital doze.

Sitting on the bed, his unkempt hair and the dark stubble on his chin emphasizing the crumpled white shirt of his dinner suit, Meg thought she had never seen a man more beautiful.

‘I have to go.’ He watched her force a smile, attempt to mask the disappointment in her eyes.

‘Sure.’

‘There’s a few things I need to take care of.’

Meg glanced at the bedside clock; it was two p.m. after all. ‘Okay.’ She hesitated a moment before continuing, not sure if she was pushing things too hard. ‘I’m on a late tomorrow. Will I see you?’

‘I certainly hope so.’ He picked up her hair and gently moved it off her face. ‘But do we have to wait until tomorrow?’

Hope surged in her and Meg’s smile finally caught up with her eyes.

‘Do you want to come over to mine tonight? I’ll ring for a takeaway.’ He was pleating the sheet, his eyes not quite meeting hers, and Meg realised he was nervous too. ‘You could bring your uniform—if you want to, that is?’

She did want to; there was nothing Meg wanted more. And this time when he got up to go there was nothing playing on her mind, nothing but all the thrill and promise tonight held.

He hadn’t left her much hot water—Meg’s tiny flat wasn’t exactly designed for two—but it didn’t stop her singing or rubbing conditioner into every strand
of her hair and body oil into every crevice of her body. Tonight was going to be perfect. She walked back into the bedroom, surveying the tousled bed and the newspapers littered everywhere, and was hard pushed to wipe the grin off her face as she set about tidying up. The place looked as if a bomb had gone off, and when the phone rang it took a moment to locate it under the pile of her hastily discarded clothes.

‘Has he gone?’ Kathy’s voice was a loud whisper, bubbling with excitement.

‘Kathy!’ Meg exclaimed indignantly. ‘We shared a taxi.’

‘You might be able to fool Mum…’ Kathy let out a low chuckle. ‘Actually, you can’t. She was out first thing for Mass, and now she’s upstairs doing the Rosary. Praying for your sins, no doubt.’

‘Well, there’s no need.’

‘Not feeling guilty, then?’

‘Not a bit,’ Meg said firmly.

‘Good. Well, hold that thought and I’m on my way.’

Meg’s stomach let out a huge rumble, and before Kathy could hang up she called her back. ‘Stop at the bakers on Beach Road, would you? Bring some croissants.’

‘Hungry, are you?’

‘Starving,’ Meg admitted without thinking, and Kathy started laughing. ‘Just bring the pastries.’

Hanging up, Meg dressed quickly and put on the coffee pot for the second time that day. Just as the jug was filling and the flat was taking on a semblance
of normality her doorbell rang loudly, and with a wide grin Meg opened the door.

Her grin didn’t last long.

‘Vince?’ He was the last person on earth Meg had been expecting to see, and the shock was evident in her voice.

‘I only just heard. I came as soon as I found out.’ He ran a hand through his blond hair—straggly hair, Meg noted. And he looked thinner now, with dark rings under his eyes.

Meg gave him a bemused look. ‘What on earth are you talking about?’

‘Your accident.’

‘But that was ages ago.’

‘What you must have been through.’ He stared at her with sorrowful eyes. ‘And I wasn’t there to help.’

‘Of course you weren’t,’ Meg said stiffly. ‘You were with your wife. How is she, by the way?’

‘Meg don’t bring Rhonda into it…’

‘She’s your wife, Vince. I know you seem to find that little fact rather easy to forget, but I for one can’t.’

‘Please, Meg.’ There was a note of desperation in his voice. ‘Can I just come inside?’

Her instinct was to scream no, to slam the door in his face and retreat to the safety of her flat. But what would that solve? A slanging match in the hallway she could do without. ‘Just for a moment, then,’ Meg mumbled, standing back stiffly to let him in.

‘Hell, Meg,’ he said once the door was closed and the only sound was Meg’s pounding heart. ‘I’ve missed you.’ When she didn’t respond his voice took
on a slightly pleading note. ‘Please, Meg, when I heard about the accident…’

‘Does your wife know you’re here?’

‘Meg, just listen, will you…’

She swung around then, her eyes blazing with fury. ‘What were you expecting, Vince? That we’d fall into bed? That we’d carry on as before?’

‘Of course not,’ he spluttered.

‘Then what?’

‘I just wanted to see for myself that you were okay.’

‘Well, you’ve seen.’ She held her hands up and slapped them quickly down to her thighs. ‘I’m fine. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m expecting company.’ Undoing the latch, she went to wrench open the door—but his hand got there first.

‘Please, Meg.’ His hand was over hers, and in a reflex action Meg pulled it away. But not quickly enough. The door flew open at that moment, and as Kathy burst in, her arms full of greasy paper bags, the happy smile on her face died in an instant.

‘Oh,’ she said her eyes turning questioningly from Vince to Meg. ‘The adulterer’s here.’

‘Kathy.’ Meg’s voice had a warning ring to it, but Kathy hadn’t finished.

‘He looks like a duck.’ She walked over to the bench and put the bags down as Vince stood there, a muscle pounding in his cheek. ‘Walks like a duck.’

‘I don’t need this from you!’ Vince had finally found his voice.