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Authors: Jill Mansell

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BOOK: Thinking of You
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Chapter 47

Gavin didn't mind having his bottom pinched. In fact he positively welcomed it. He just hadn't been expecting it to happen as he threaded his way along a crowded street in Padstow.

“Hello, stranger!” He threw out his arms and gave Bev a kiss, delighted to see her. “I was hoping it'd be someone young, female, and dazzlingly gorgeous.”

Bev, her smile lopsided, said, “Oh well, one out of three isn't bad.”

“Don't give me that. You wouldn't want to be twenty-one again. And for an older woman you're looking great.” Gavin admired her shiny dark hair, scarlet dress, and voluptuous figure.

“And you still haven't signed up for those How to be a Diplomat evening classes.”

He beamed. “I'm set in my ways. There's no hope for me. Anyway, fancy bumping into you here. We've missed you at the club.”

Bev shrugged. “I gave up waiting for George Clooney to join. He must have had problems getting his visa. Anyway, you're looking well.” She admired Gavin's suit. “Who'd have thought you could look so smart? I almost didn't recognize you without one of your loud shirts on.”

“Business. Long boring meeting with a short boring client. How about you?”

“Much more fun. A very unboring meeting with a rather exciting new friend.” Bev's eyes sparkled as she moved back to the table she'd been sitting at when she'd jumped up to surprise him.

“Excellent. Can I meet her?”

“Very funny. It's a male friend.” Indicating with pride the empty beer bottle on the table next to her almost finished glass of wine, Bev said, “But you're more than welcome to stay and say hello. We're having a couple of drinks here before going on to dinner at the Blue Moon. He's just gone inside to buy the next round.”

“So you've found someone you like at last.” It was pretty obvious from the way her whole face was lit up that she was smitten.

“I know! Can you believe it? I stopped going to the club and told myself that from now on, if it was going to happen, it'd happen.” Bev clicked her fingers and beamed at him. “And bam, a few weeks down the line, it did happen. Which just goes to show: you don't have to schlep along to singles evenings or join a gym or buy a dog and take it for walks so you can get chatting to other people with dogs. Guess how we met!”

“You took a job as a stripper.”

“Gavin, you philistine, how did I ever fancy you? I was weeding my front garden! On my hands and knees with my big bum in the air, pulling up dandelions.”

Gavin the Philistine wisely kept his thoughts to himself. But it was undeniably an enticing mental image.

“When this guy who was walking past stopped at my gate.”

Of course he did, thought Gavin the Philistine.

“He was lost,” Bev went on. “He asked me for directions to Lancaster Road.”

Oh yes, classic maneuver.

“Which was back the way he'd just come from, so we had a laugh about that.”

Naturally.

“And then somehow we just clicked.” Bev clicked her fingers to demonstrate. “It was incredible; we just carried on talking and didn't stop. There was this incredible… God,
chemistry
.”

Total pro.

“After about an hour, he asked me if I'd like to meet him for a drink that evening. And that was it. I said yes, of course. We went out and had the most amazing time. It was as if we'd known each other forever,” Bev said dreamily. “At last, I'd found my perfect man. He's so kind and such a gentleman, so interested in
me
. It's almost too good to be true. This is only our third date—I can't believe it's only our third date!—but I've just got this
feeling
about Perry, I really think this could be—”

“Whoa,” Gavin abruptly halted her. “What did you say?”

“It's only our third date. We met last Sunday.”

“Never mind that. Is his name Perry Kennedy?”

“Oh my God, yes it
is
!” Bev clapped her hands in delight. “Do you know him?”

Up until that moment Gavin had simply recognized Bev's new chap as a fellow womanizer, a man after his own heart, and where was the harm in that? Now, like plunging into the sea in diving boots, it struck him that there
was
harm in it. He hoped he wasn't as bad as Perry Kennedy. He did it because he had the attention span of a gnat, but he'd never deliberately set out to deceive a woman. He'd never been cold and calculating in his life.

Bev, her smile wavering, said, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I know him. He's bad news. A fake.” Since there was no kind way to say it, Gavin didn't waste time wondering how to soften the blow. “He went out with Ginny, duped her, played her for a fool. She found out he was shagging her best friend. And it turned out he's done it a thousand times before.”

Poor old Bev, the smile had well and truly melted from her face. Shock radiated from her. And any minute now, Perry would emerge from the bar with their drinks.

“I hate him for what he did to Ginny,” Gavin went on. “He broke her heart”—OK, bit of an exaggeration—“and he'll break yours too.”

God, he hoped she wasn't about to burst into tears.

But Bev was made of sterner stuff. She exhaled slowly, sat back in her chair, and said, “Fuck, fuck,
fuck
it
.”

“Sorry, darling. I couldn't not tell you.”

“Story of my life. I suppose I should be used to it by now. If something seems too good to be true, it probably is. And there was me, thinking my luck had changed.” She exhaled. “Thinking I was irresistible.”

“Sweetheart, you are.” For an older woman anyway, Gavin allowed. “All the more reason not to get involved with a bastard like that. Trust me; he's all pain and no gain. You need to cut and run.”

Bev glanced down at her shoes. “Easier said than done in these heels.”

She was wearing red strappy four-inch stilettos adorned with butterflies, the shoes of a woman out to impress the new man in her life. Quite sexy, actually.

Gavin said, “You could always take them off.”

“Oh God, why does this have to happen to me?” Bev glanced over her shoulder to see if Perry was on his way out.

“It doesn't only happen to you. Men like him need teaching a lesson.”

“Pot.” Her tone was dry. “Kettle.”

“Ouch. That's me put in my place.” Gavin's eyes crinkled at the corners. “I'd better get off, leave you to it.”

“Where are you going?”

“To get something to eat. Probably not at the Blue Moon.” He paused, watching Bev make up her mind. “Why?”

She shrugged. “Could you do with some company?”

“Only if you promise not to keep nagging me about my terrible ways.”

Bev slipped her feet out of her stilettos, stood up, and drained her glass of wine. “And you aren't allowed to keep saying you could quite fancy me if only I wasn't so old. Just for once, try and be nice to me, OK? I'm a woman in crisis.”

Gavin winked and said, “My favorite kind.”

***

The queue at the bar had been ridiculous. Having finally been served, Perry emerged with a drink in each hand. Bev was nowhere to be seen.

What was this, a clip from
You've Been Framed
? He paused, peering around. The table at which he and Bev had been sitting was now occupied by a family of four. Approaching them, Perry learned that it had been free when they'd got here.

He scanned the rest of the drinkers gathered outside. No one else was wearing a red dress. Had Bev gone inside to the loo and somehow managed to slip past him unnoticed?

Yet more waiting. She didn't return. Feeling increasingly foolish, Perry finally approached the group of office workers at the table behind the one now occupied by the family of four. “Um… excuse me, did any of you notice what happened to the lady who was sitting over there? Dark hair, red dress…”

“She pulled.” A freckled, tufty-haired boy grinned at his friends.

“Warren.” The girl next to him gave him a nudge. “You can't say that.”

“Why not? It's true.”

“What do you mean?” Perry's shoulders stiffened.

“She was sitting there on her own. Then this guy walked past. The next moment she jumped up and launched herself at him. Pinched his bum and everything. They were all over each other.”

“They talked for a bit,” the girl at his side elaborated, “then walked off together down the road.”

“He was carrying her shoes,” a second girl chimed in. “Kind of like Cinderella, only the other way round.”

The freckled boy looked scornful. “So, not like Cinderella at all then. More like he's got some pervy fetish thing for shoes.”

“She just went off with him?” Perry blinked in disbelief. “What did he look like?”

“Forties. A bit overweight. Losing his hair at the front. Not exactly Pierce Brosnan.” The first girl shrugged then said thoughtfully, “He had a nice smile though. And sparkly eyes. He looked quite… fun.”

The boy sniggered. “She obviously thought he was fun.”

Perry was in a state of disbelief. Bev had abandoned him for another man who wasn't even that good-looking. Gone off with him just like that, without so much as a good-bye.

How could she?

He'd never been so humiliated in his life.

***

Bev was smiling to herself.

“What?” said Gavin.

“I've just realized something.” She turned onto her side to face him. “I bet I'm the oldest person you've ever slept with.”

“By a mile. But you know what? It wasn't as scary as I thought.”

“Cheek!” Bev hooked one of her bare legs over his.

“It's a compliment. Seriously.” In return Gavin pulled her against him. “You know a lot of tricks.”

“Years of practice. Almost as many as you. And a man in his forties is past his sexual peak. Whereas
I
”—she trailed the tips of her fingernails in tantalizing circles along his inner thigh—“am a woman in my prime.”

“Past my peak? Now that's a slur I'm going to have to disprove.” He rolled her over, intent on making his point, but Bev wriggled away before he could pin her down.

“No time now. It's eight o'clock. I have to be at work by nine.”

This was frustrating but true. Neither of them had expected last night to end the way it had. Following dinner in Padstow, Gavin had invited Bev back to his house in Portsilver for a nightcap. At first they had talked about Perry Kennedy. Then they'd stopped talking about him, because that was just depressing, and had moved on to other subjects instead. It was at this point that Gavin had realized how refreshing it was to be able to hold a flirtatious conversation with someone who had a brain, intellectual curiosity, and a quick wit. Bev was terrific company; she made him laugh and she didn't look blank when he mentioned Nixon and Watergate. She knew who Siouxie Sioux was. She remembered a world before mobile phones. When it came to singing Duran Duran, she was word perfect.

OK, not everything they'd discussed had been intellectual.

After that, the rest had just happened. He'd been making coffee in the kitchen and Bev had been spooning sugar into his cup. His hand had accidentally brushed against hers and she'd jumped, spilling sugar all over the work surface. Amused, Gavin had said, “Do I really have that effect on you?”

“Yes,” said Bev. “You do.”

“When we were outside that wine bar, you said you used to fancy me. Was that a joke?”

She shook her head. “No, it was the truth.”

“You never said anything.” Gavin was enchanted by her honesty.

“No point. I couldn't turn myself into a twenty-two-year-old.”

The last twenty-two-year-old of Gavin's acquaintance had been talking about this summer's V Festival. When Gavin had proudly informed her that he'd been at the original Live Aid concert, she'd trilled excitedly, “Oh wicked, we learned all about that at school in history!”

The next thing he knew, he'd found himself kissing Bev. Sugar crystals had scrunched underfoot as they'd clung to each other. The coffee had been abandoned; the spilled sugar was still there. Last night had been a revelation, all the better for being so unexpected. Sex with Bev was a joy.

A repeat performance would have been nice but she was out of bed now, hurriedly dressing in order to shoot home and shower and change before heading off to work.

In no time at all she was ready to leave. Gavin realized he didn't want her to go. When she gave him a good-bye kiss, he said, “What are you doing tonight?”

“Me? Nothing. Watching
Last
of
the
Summer
Wine
. Polishing my walker. Looking through my Thora Hird scrapbook.” Bev shrugged. “How about you?”

“Well, if you could bear to give
Last
of
the
Summer
Wine
a miss, I could demonstrate that I'm not past my sexual peak.”

Her eyes searched his face. “Would that be to prove it to me, or to yourself?”

“Hey, I want to see you again. I wasn't expecting this to happen and neither were you. But it has.” He surveyed the tiny lines at the corners of her eyes and realized they gave her face character. Reaching up to touch the side of her jaw—at least she wasn't jowly; he
really
couldn't handle that—Gavin said, “And I'm glad it's happened.”

“You're not just saying that to be kind, to cheer me up?”

“I promise you, I'm not that unselfish. So, Moneypenny, are you coming over here at seven o'clock tonight or not?”

“Coming over here for what?”

Gavin did his best Sean Connery impression. “I thought maybe rampant sex and toasted cheese sandwiches.”

BOOK: Thinking of You
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ads

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