Once A Bad Girl (17 page)

‘Hot running water?’

He nodded.

‘A bed?’

‘With white cotton sheets.’

‘Hmm.’ Lottie pretended to think about it. Then she spun round, opened the passenger door and jumped in. She stuck her head out. ‘What are you waiting for?’

The next morning, Josh awoke to the sounds of running water and singing. Loud, happy singing. A gentle sense of peace settled over him. It was as if everything that had been wrong in his life didn’t matter anymore. His mother was still a drunk, yes, and the press would still hound him whenever they didn’t have anything better to do, but it all seemed bearable, somehow.

Because Lottie was here, and he could lie in bed and think about nothing and know that she’d keep all his secrets locked up tight. Even if she was using up all the hot water.

And the soap. Hot water. And soap. And that curvaceous body, and those luscious breasts. The bed creaked as he rolled off it. Lottie had squealed when she’d seen the bed, a baroque monstrosity that he’d kept only because it was massive and he liked plenty of room to stretch out.

At least, he had liked plenty of room, before he’d discovered what it was like to have her curled up against him, warm and soft with her hair smelling faintly of coconut. She was so firmly in his life now he was having a hard time imagining her out of it.

Imagining her naked wasn’t so difficult. Seeing her naked, well, that was as good as it got. Josh strolled over to the door that led into the ensuite and pushed it open.

Steam billowed around him, dampening his skin. Lottie stood in the middle of the floor, a towel draped over her head. She was singing something about a man called Rico and a diamond as she rubbed her legs dry.

Josh watched her for a moment. She was happy, he thought. And so was he. He liked it. He liked it a lot. ‘Morning,’ he said. He turned on the shower, and wondered if he could persuade her back under the spray. ‘You should have woken me up.’

‘Nah. You looked too pretty asleep.’

‘One thing I am not is pretty.’

She flicked back her hair. ‘Beautiful, then. Stunning. Gorgeous.’

Josh rubbed a hand through his hair. She’d got him blushing like a schoolgirl with a few silly words. He walked right up against her, kissed her shoulder. ‘You’re in a good mood.’

‘Of course I’m in a good mood!’ She bounced on her toes, squishing those luscious breasts up against him. ‘The auction was amazing, and I’m here with you.’

‘What do you really want, Lottie?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I know…you said the auction house was your brother’s thing. It was always supposed to be his. What about you? What do you want?’

‘I want a bit of you,’ she smiled up at him, grinding her hips against his. The softness of her belly rubbed against his groin. It was first thing in the morning. He didn’t need any more encouragement.

But now he’d started down this path, he couldn’t stop. ‘You can’t get out of it that easily,’ he said, glancing across at the shower. No steam. He backed her towards it. Tiny droplets flew out and tickled his forearms, his hands, each one a little touch of icy cold. ‘So come on, confess. What was the dream?’

‘The auction house.’

‘You already told me you never wanted to work there. Tell me the truth.’

‘Or what?’

Josh moved her back another couple of inches.

Her legs stiffened, and she shrieked. ‘I had the crazy idea that it could be reinvented as some sort of jazz hall. You know, with tables set up in the main auction room, a stage in the corner with a singer and a band. Music lessons in the offices. An instrument shop in the storage area. I drew up a whole set of plans for it when I was 12. With colour and everything.’ She laughed, but her eyes crinkled in that way they did when she was sad. ‘You probably think that’s hilarious.’

‘I think it’s brilliant,’ Josh said. How could he have been so blind? He ran nightclubs, for god’s sake. And as a venue, it would be stunning. ‘Now, where were we?’

‘You were about to take a cold shower?’

‘I’ve got a better idea.’

She slipped a hand between them and stroked him, base to tip. ‘So do I.’

‘I like the way your mind works, Miss Spencer.’

They tumbled back into bed and spent the next hour making a lot of noise. And then Josh started to plan.

Lottie kicked the pedal round, planted her left foot on top of it, and tried to remember how it went. She gripped the handlebars hard, teeth clenched. If a five year old could ride a bike, she could. Though how many five year olds had a bike as yummy as this, with its’ glittery purple paint, coloured spokes and flowery saddle? Just looking at it made the back of her throat feel strange. The skirt of her little cotton dress fluttered up in the breeze, but she was too busy trying to convince herself she wouldn’t end up in hospital to worry about a bit of thigh flashing. The sun warmed her back as she took her first wobbly ride across the garden and crashed straight into a bush. She couldn’t see Josh at the kitchen window, but she blushed anyway.

The front wheel came free with a good yank on the handlebars. She picked the leaves out of the spokes and turned the bike around, hoping that this time she’d remember to use the brakes before she ended up with plasters on her knees.

Memories of the last time she’d ridden a bike rose up, rich and vivid. Sunday lunches, arguing over who got to finish the pudding. Ice creams on the beach at Brighton. David waiting for her at the school gates, because his school tipped out 10 minutes earlier than hers did and they always walked home together. Good memories. Good times.

For the first time in forever, she could think about David without guilt making her sick, and it was all down to Josh and his magic charm. Or the magic sex. Or the magic something, anyway. He’d even had her confessing her silly childhood plan to turn the auction house into a jazz club.

She took a couple more turns around the garden, less wobbly, more confident now. She even remembered to use the brakes. Maybe…maybe she could tell him the rest of it, tell him the things about David’s accident that he didn’t know. Tell him what had really happened that night.

Yes. She’d tell him. Right now. Taking one last spin around the garden to prove to herself that she wasn’t going to fall off, she propped the bike up against the wall and went inside.

Josh was in the kitchen, wearing a tight white t-shirt that said ‘Mae, Barcelona’ and battered cargo shorts, relaxing back against the scarred wooden dresser with a coffee in his hand.

‘What?’ he asked, all innocence and charm.

‘Don’t you “what” me, I know you were watching.’

‘I had to check if your knickers show when you’re riding.’

Lottie tugged on the hem of her dress. ‘And do they?’

‘No, of course not.’ He drained his cup, put it in the sink. ‘Ready to risk life and limb and ride into the village?’

‘Josh, I…’ This was the right moment to tell him. She knew it was. ‘I…I love the bike.’

A huge grin split his face. He grabbed her waist, lifted her high and twirled her round until her head spun. And the moment was gone.

It was 10 minutes’ ride to the village, though it turned into half an hour as she stopped to admire every bird, every plant, and Josh with his dark hair and big shoulders and eyes that matched the sky.

He looked happy, relaxed in a way that he never had in London. But who wouldn’t be? The village came into view as they rounded a gentle corner, postcard perfect with rows of houses built from the same grey stone as Josh’s farmhouse. A church spire stretched up into the sky, and she could see a row of pretty shop fronts. She zoned straight in on the pâtisserie.

‘We’ll stop at the café first,’ Josh said, riding up alongside her. ‘I know the owner. He’s probably heard we’re here. I don’t want to get in his bad books by not saying hello. Then we’ll stock up. We’ll probably have to come every day though, I know how much you eat.’

Lottie took a swipe at him. ‘About half as much as you do. Race you!’

And she set off at a reckless speed, freewheeling her way down the hill. Josh caught up with her as she skidded to a halt outside the church, using a combination of the brakes and her red canvas pumps to slow herself down.

‘You’re insane,’ he said, but laughter creased the corners of his eyes, and he was grinning like an idiot.

‘You’re just jealous that you didn’t think of it first.’

‘I don’t think there’s anything you could do on a bike that I didn’t think of first,’ he pointed out.

‘Sometimes,’ Lottie said, ‘I worry about what goes on inside your head.’

A strange look crossed his face. ‘There is nothing going on inside my head.’

‘Uh-huh.’ Lottie dismounted and checked her dress for decency. ‘Can we have a look inside the church?’

‘Sure.’ Josh slowed his bike to a halt and got off it, leaning it against the wall. ‘Any particular reason?’

‘Nope,’ Lottie said. ‘Let’s just hope your head stays full of nothing while we’re in there.’

She skipped up the rough-cut stone steps that led to the side of the church. To the left she could see a small graveyard, the headstones weather-beaten and crusted with lichen. The angle of the building cut off her view of the front, but she could imagine it. All tall and imposing, with a huge arched entrance way and wide steps perfect for a just-married photo. There’d be more stained glass, maybe a big circular window. And then there was the tower. And the carved stone knights. And the gargoyles. Her skin tingled.

Lottie reached the top of the steps and went straight to the wooden door set deep in the stone. She reached for the handle, but Josh got there first.

‘Just one thing before we go in,’ he said, slipping three fingers through the twisted iron loop.

‘What?’

He winked. Then, quick as lightning, fit his mouth to hers and set about kissing her in a way that was nothing short of indecent. His tongue tangled with hers as his free hand worked some sort of magic on her left breast, making it ache and tingle. She touched his just-shaven jaw, traced the strong column of his neck, dug her hands into the soft mess of his hair. He felt like he’d been made for her.

By the time he set her free, her head was spinning. ‘We should get inside,’ she managed, ‘because I’m fairly certain having sex in church grounds is illegal.’

‘I just hope there’s nothing inappropriate going on inside your head, because we’re about to go into a church.’

Lottie narrowed her eyes at him, but decided not to retort. The man was already smug enough. She lifted one hand and gestured to the door. He gave her a conciliatory peck on the lips, twisted the handle and pushed it open. It scraped a little over the stone floor, but the hinges stayed quiet, and she felt a twinge of relief. There was something wrong about making noise in a church, even an empty church on a quiet Tuesday morning.

She walked into a tidy entranceway, with coat hooks and a super-neat noticeboard. Muffled voices caught her attention. A couple of other people were inside, but they wouldn’t mind her looking round, would they? Josh stepped in behind her, pulled the door closed and pinched her bum, and she barely held in a squeak. ‘Will you stop that!’

‘No,’ he said with a grin. ‘It’s too much fun watching you suffer.’

‘We’re in a church. Show some respect.’

‘I think you missed your calling. You should have been a school teacher.’

She ignored that. ‘I’m going to have a look around. Are you going to behave yourself, or are you going to wait outside?’

He held up his hands. ‘I’ll be good. I promise. Come on.’ He took her hand and pulled her forwards into the empty church. Or the not-so-empty church.

‘Oh, no,’ Lottie stepped back as at least a hundred pairs of eyes swivelled in their direction. From somewhere inside the church, an organ started to sing. Everyone stood. The main doors to their left swung open and in trotted the cutest little girls she’d ever seen, dressed up like angels in baby-pink tulle. The smaller of the two tipped up the basket she was carrying and dumped a pile of rose petals on the floor. Then she burst into tears.

Josh pulled Lottie forwards. Not back, not out the door, but forwards. Her heart jumped into her throat. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Shush,’ he said, shoving her towards the end of a half empty pew.

Lottie narrowed her shoulders and ducked her head in a pathetic attempt to make herself invisible. She sunk her elbow into his ribs. ‘We’re gatecrashing a wedding!’

‘Not exactly.’ Josh waved to someone at the front of the church. ‘Anyway, the bride is about to make her entrance.’ He elbowed her back. ‘Show some respect.’

A million protestations got stuck on the tip of her tongue as the whole congregation gave a collective sigh and she found herself joining in. The bride was tall and willowy with a sleek Louise Brooks haircut, her dress a stunning silk creation that skimmed her body. Little cap sleeves weighed down with beads caught the light and tossed it out again as she floated up the aisle with breathtaking grace.

Josh took her hand as the bride reached the front and everyone sat down. ‘I know the groom,’ he whispered. ‘François. He runs the café I told you about. Didn’t know he was getting married, though. Last time I saw him he was signing his commitment to bachelorhood with his own blood.’

‘And now he’s married.’

‘Hmm,’ replied Josh. His gaze caught hers, and they sat there and stared at each other for a long, long moment.

‘You’re a closet romantic.’ Lottie blinked. ‘How did I not notice that?’

He winked. ‘I distracted you with great sex.’

‘Shhhh!’ said the woman sat next to Lottie, her feathered fascinator bobbing on top of her head like a crazy tropical bird. She shook her head and tutted.

Lottie bit her lip and forced down the giggle, but only just. She felt totally overwhelmed. She watched the two strangers make their vows to each other, felt her throat go tight and dry. Breathing was a nightmare, the silence so loud that she almost didn’t dare. Because if she breathed, she might cry. And if she cried, Josh would look at her, and he would know.

He would know just how into him she was. How badly, all of a sudden, she wanted to be the one in the white dress. How she wanted Josh to look at her the way the tall, blond-haired man at the front of the church was looking at his bride. She wanted to be Josh’s special one. She wanted to be his everything.