Shadows (3 page)

There, surely that sounded disinterested.

Rory picked up his wine glass, twirled it and watched the wine catch the light.  A long moment later, his somber glance lifted.  “You’re right.  That was most unfair.  I cannot ask you to make my decisions.”  Polishing off the remaining wine in one gulp, he put the glass down, reached for her hand and dropped a kiss on her knuckles.

Melissa pulled her hand back as if burnt, and then wished she hadn't.

With a glance, he summoned the waiter and turned back to her.  “May I call you tomorrow?”  His mouth pulled to one side.  “If you’ll trust me with your phone number.”

Melissa had no idea what to say.  She wasn't used to handing out her phone number.  The pleasure had gone out of the evening, and she wished it were over.  Oh Lord, the next few minutes were going to be so difficult.  Yet he seemed to take it for granted that if he ditched his girlfriend, Melissa would take the unfortunate woman’s place.  Did she want to see him again?  She wasn't sure she dared ask herself that question.

“If you refuse, I’ll have to talk with Jonny.”  There was a twinkle in his eye, but Melissa sensed he would do exactly as he said.

“Why do you want it?”

“So I can telephone you tomorrow, of course.”

Melissa tamped down the flicker of joy and scowled at him.  He was taking her for granted, and she ought to resent it.  “Men who have girlfriends should not telephone other women.”

“I won’t have a girlfriend by the time I call you.”

“But…”  Should she believe him?  She ought to feel compassion for the unknown girlfriend, who could have no idea of what was to come.

In the end, it seemed easier to give him the number.

Rory must have sensed her unease, for he did not prolong the meal.  Skipping coffee, he insisted on seeing her into a taxi outside the door of the restaurant.  She sank back against the cold shiny leather seat.  The evening had promised an adventure, but it had all fizzled out like a damp squib.  He wouldn’t call back.  His sort never did.  Dating was all a game to men like him.

~~~

The phone woke her early next morning.  She blinked at it sleepily, and then her stomach clenched.  Surely it wouldn’t be Rory calling?  She snatched up the phone.

“Oh, Jonny.”  Melissa sank back onto the pillow with a vast sense of relief.  “It’s lovely to hear you,” she croaked, and then realized Jonny had called to discuss—no, dissect would be a better word—last night’s encounter with Rory Hepburn.  “Thanks for the wonderful party, but I have a headache.  Can I call you back?”

“Aha.  A late night, I presume?”

“Not too late.”  That was the truth.  Her flatmate, Amy, had been out on a date and Melissa had been in her bed by ten.

“What do you think of him?”

“He’s absolutely charming.  Too charming.”  She hesitated.  Jonny might report the conversation to Rory, since he claimed Rory was his best friend, so she'd better not say too much.  But the temptation to talk about Rory, find out all she could about him, was huge.  “Probably too good to be true.”

Hoots of laughter came down the phone.  Melissa grimaced, and held the receiver several inches from her ear.

“He already has a girlfriend.”  Melissa clamped the phone to her ear and struggled to a sitting position in bed.  Discussing boyfriends like this made her feel as if she were fourteen again.

“No one special, so don’t worry.”

The words sounded good in her ears.  But could she believe Jonny?  Would Rory confide in Jonny?  “Do you know her?”

“She’s like all the others.  Well dressed, beautiful and a credit to a man in any situation.”

She groaned.  “No one special then.”  Melissa buried her face in her free hand.  He wouldn’t ditch such a wonderful girlfriend for her.  Her eyes prickled with tears.  Part of her had been hoping he would.

Jonny yawned down the phone.  “Sorry.  In all the years I’ve known Rory, he’s never been head over heels about a girl.  Never.”

Surely Jonny would know.  She bit her lip, stared at the ceiling and sent up a small, prayer.  Let him fall for me, please.

Jonny's voice floated softly down the telephone wire.  “It’s possible you’ll be the one.  I saw the way he reacted to you, and you to him.  Breathtaking.  I could feel the sparks flying.”

A silly grin covered her face and for a second she reveled in the comforting glow his words produced.  “Really?  A pity you didn’t get singed,” she muttered.  “Don’t be silly, Jonny.  I have to be sensible about this.  We’re hardly a good match.  He sounds rich, for a start.”

“I’ve always thought that when he does fall,” Jonny said dreamily, “he’ll fall hard.”

She pleaded the headache again, promised to phone him later and, one hand to her brow, flopped back on her pillow.  Now she really did have a headache.

If he never called her, she would soon forget him.

Melissa scoffed at the ceiling.  That was a lie, and a biggie.  She would remember Rory Hepburn on her deathbed.

The day passed slowly, and she spent it seesawing from hope to hopelessness and avoiding her colleagues’ quizzical glances across the research desks.  Old hurts resurfaced.  Even if by some remote chance Rory called, was she ready for another romance?

Adrian's desertion had given her months of misery and she had no wish to go through such pain ever again.  Two years together, plans for marriage and then he decided that they were not suited and he and the new girlfriend were planning emigration.  Australia had been mentioned.

If Rory was to be believed, he was about to do to some unknown female exactly what Adrian had done to Melissa.

People did not fall in love in a couple of hours.  In lust, perhaps, but not love.  If Rory never called, which he probably wouldn't, she could go back to her nice quiet life devoid of romantic upsets.  The idea appalled her.  Tiny flickers of hope surprised her and burst through her defenses when she least expected them.  Her stomach churned queasily long before the working day was over.

Ten minutes after her shift ended, she walked down the steps and into the London streets.  A heavy body crashed around the corner and cannoned into her.  “Melissa.”

She righted herself, looked up into Rory’s happy face and her stomach turned over.  Oh God, he was gorgeous.

“I thought I’d missed you.  Shall we go for a pizza?  I’m starving.”  He managed a breathless, happy grin and bundled her into a cheerful pizzeria across the road.  Choosing a table by the window, he ordered two large glasses of red wine and then sat and stared at her.

She must stay calm, not get upset.  Observe and listen, as her mother drummed into her all through childhood.

“What is it?  What’s happened?”  She couldn't hold back the questions any longer.

Rory linked his fingers together on the checked tablecloth.  “I was trying to find the right tone.  I couldn’t wait until tonight.  I talked to Tara over lunch and now I’m a free man.”  He grinned, reached across and took hold of Melissa’s hand.  “I’m all yours.”  He ducked his head, glanced up from beneath his brows.  “If you’ll have me, that is.”

Shocked and delighted, Melissa could only grin at him.  Somewhere deep in her heart she'd hoped, but hadn't really believed he would make the break with Tara.  Now she didn't know what to say.  Get up and dance around the restaurant, or feel sorry for Tara?  Congratulate or commiserate?  “What about…Tara?”

“No problem.  She’s been wondering how to tell me she’d found someone else a week ago.  We’ll stay friends, which is good.”

Melissa wrinkled her nose.  Hard to believe in girlfriends who accepted dismissal so easily.  “Didn’t she make a fuss?”

“Only if you count rushing off into Richard Harvey’s arms.”  Rory grinned.  “We hadn’t been together long, and we both knew it wasn’t the real thing.”

Melissa raised her brows and fiddled with her fork.  She’d been braced for bad news, and now there was no cause for it.  Blood seeped into her face, sang around her veins and filled her with energy.

“Don’t cry.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.  Look.”  His hand darted to her face and came away with a tiny drop of water on one fingertip.

She stared at his finger.  She wasn't surprised, but was afraid she might burst with the happiness roaring around her bloodstream and filled the world with dazzling light.  Fighting for calm and composure, she grinned and spoke lightly.  “How embarrassing.”

His cheerful grin had vanished.

Commonsense filtered through the heady joy, and steadied her.  She hardly knew this man.  What chance of happiness did they have?

Still he said nothing.  Anxiety gripped her stomach in iron fingers.  “What is it?  There’s something else, isn’t there?”

Rory’s gaze came back to her, studied her for several seconds.  “I might as well tell you now.”

The fingers squeezing her stomach tightened.  She forced a small, tight smile.  “Tell me.”

He shifted restlessly in his chair, spread his elbows on the table and leaned forward.  “Remember this was all set in motion some time ago.”

“What was?”  Melissa’s imagination ran riot.  Was he about to admit to a wife, probably mad, hidden away in the attic?  A child locked in a cupboard under the stairs?  He was an undercover agent about to go abroad…

The waiter brought their pizzas.  The overpowering pungency of the cheese and chorizo caught in Melissa’s nostrils, but she sat back and smiled politely as the man ensured she had everything she might need to enjoy her meal.  Meanwhile, Rory cut busily into his own pizza, forked up a huge chunk and start chewing.

“Well?”  She had to know the worst.  Immediately.

Her sharp tone brought his head up.  “Um, sorry.”  Still chewing, he reached for her hand, and managed to capture it without knocking over either wine glass.  Melissa’s pulse leapt in response to the dry warmth of his skin.  She curled her fingers around his and took comfort from the contact.  Instinct, against every ounce of logic she possessed, told her to wait and trust him.  At the same time she sent up a small wordless prayer that this was not going to hurt.

“A holiday,” he said.

“What?”  The words made no sense.

He swallowed the huge mouthful of pizza.  “Tara and I arranged to go to France.  Jonny’s cottage.”

Melissa freed her hand, picked up her cutlery and plunged the knife into her pizza.  She forked up a morsel and then laid it back on her plate.  He had detached a girlfriend for her, but now he was going to disappear for weeks on end.

“I wonder…would you like to come?”

The word “instead” vibrated in the air between them.  Break with Tara, take Melissa to France.  Easy-peasy.  She lifted her fork, closed her mouth around the chunk of pizza and chewed slowly so she did not have to speak.  A neon sign at the bar flashed on and off, spattering Rory’s face and shirt with alternate red and green splashes of light.

She couldn't decide if she was insulted or not.  But at least he'd asked her to go with him.  He could have gone alone.

“It’s already booked and paid for,” Rory added.  “No cost to you, of course.  It would be a shame to waste the opportunity to get to know each other.  It’s the old mill Jonny’s uncle left him a couple of years ago.  He must have told you about it?”

“I didn’t take much notice because I never expected to go there.  We hardly know each other.  We might not get on.”

“I’m sure.  So it is up to you.”

“How can you be so certain?”

“I don’t know, but I am.  Don’t worry about it.”

He seemed so confident, but Melissa could not share it.  How could two people who'd only just met survive two weeks alone?  It took so long to get to know the simplest of a person's likes and dislikes.  Tea or coffee first thing in a morning?  Pop music or Beethoven?  If he were a jazz fiend, she'd hate him every time he indulged his hobby.  “When are you going?”

“The car’s booked on the shuttle on Sunday afternoon.”

“What?”  Shock speared through her like forked lightning, and her fork clattered to the plate as her grip loosened.  “But it’s Friday now.”  So they didn't have time, not even a week or a fortnight, to get to know each other.