Her Sweet Surrender: The First Crush Is the Deepest

Her face was in shadow but there was no mistaking the expression of joy which seemed to shine from inside outwards, illuminating her skin and making it glow.

She was happy. Beautiful. And content. And he yearned to be part of that happiness and share that little window of joy with this amazing woman.

This was the Amber he had fallen in love with ten years ago and then fallen in love all over again in the first ten seconds when she’d walked into his dad’s garage and knocked his world off its axis.

And the fact that he had been in denial until this moment was so mind-boggling that all he could do was stand there and watch as she sang along to the music, all alone in the light of the full moon and the soft glow streaming out from the conservatory where the last guests were mingling in the hallway.

He stood in the shadows, watching her for minutes until the music changed to a new track and she dropped her hands onto her lap and clasped hold of her knees and blinked open her eyes.

And saw him.

‘Hi, Sam,’ she said, and her eyes met his without hesitation or reluctance. Almost as if she was pleased to see him there. ‘Are we on our own?’

Sam swallowed down the lump in his throat and strolled over to the bench in the soft light and lifted up her feet and sat down, her legs on his knees, well aware that he probably had a huge man crush grin all over his face.

‘More or less. The girls are seeing the last of the guests out. It was a great party. Did you have a good time?’

Amber sighed and snuggled sideways on the arm rest. ‘The best. Even though I am now completely exhausted. How about you?’

Sam half turned to face her and as she shuffled higher, her legs resting on his thighs and her arm on her lap, he inhaled a wonderful spicy, sweet perfume that competed with the full musk roses and lavender which Saskia had planted behind the bench. It was a heady, exotic aroma that seemed to fill his senses and make him want to stay there for as long as Amber was close by.

He wanted to tell her that she looked beautiful.

But that would be too close to the truth. So he covered up his answer and turned it into something she would be expecting him to say.

‘I had an interesting evening. Your guest list was inspired. I suspect the birthday present swag will be excellent.’

‘Birthday presents? Oh. No, I only had a few. I asked people to make a donation to Parvita’s charity instead.’

She looked at him. Really looked at him. Her gaze moved so slowly from his feet upwards that by the time it reached his face Sam knew that his ears were flaming red.

‘Nice suit. You look positively dangerous. Was it safe to let you out on your own? I’m sorry I didn’t have much time to talk. Did you get all of the shots Saskia needs?’

‘I can usually be trusted to behave myself if the occasion demands. And yes, I think I can do something creative for a website and make the most of the venue.’

‘Really? That almost sounds professional. Then things truly have changed. And not just the suit.’

‘Oh, no compliments, please; you’ll have me blushing.’

‘I noticed you working the room with your camera. Hasn’t Saskia done a lovely job?’

‘I have been to this house so many times with my dad but I’d forgotten how stunning it is. Judging from some of the comments from your guests, I think she might be on to a winner.’

Amber hunched up her shoulders. ‘I hope so. She’s had a rough time since her aunt Margot died. This is why it’s important to me that you do a good job and help Saskia out. Elwood House is her home but it’s also her business. She needs a decent marketing and promotional campaign to get it off the ground.’

‘There are expert companies out there who could make it happen.’

‘Yes, there are. And they cost serious amounts of money. And Saskia won’t accept my help. I have plenty of colleagues and casual friends in my life. You met some of them this evening. But nobody comes close to real friends like Kate, Saskia and her aunt Margot. They made me believe that, despite everything that happened with my mother, I could make a real home in London and create something close to a normal school life for myself. And that was new.’

‘I know, I was there. Remember?’

Then she laughed out loud. ‘Oh, yes, I remember very well indeed. But I refuse to be angry with you on my birthday. Life really is too short. I have had enough of all of that. And yes, you can record that little snippet on your handy pocket tape recorder and do what you like with it.’

He patted his pockets. ‘Oh, shame. I seem to have left it at the office. Fancy that. The last time I came to your birthday party I had to climb over the garden fence. It makes a nice change to come in through the front door.’

She chuckled before answering. ‘How could I forget?’ She laughed out loud. ‘You strode into my eighteenth birthday party as though you were the guest of honour and hadn’t just climbed over the fence to avoid the security on the front entrance. And then you kidnapped me when my mother was in the salon with all of the stuffy, important guests she had invited who I had never met, and you whisked me away in your dad’s sports car. It was magical and you were the magician who made it possible. It was like some happy dream.’

She shook her head, making her chandelier earrings sparkle, and brought her knees up to her chest. ‘My mother still hasn’t forgiven you for the fact that I missed my own birthday cake, eighteen candles and all. Heath had to blow them out for me.’

‘Your mother is a remarkable lady. As far as she is concerned, I will always be the chauffeur’s son, but do you know what? I am proud of the fact that my dad used to drive limos for a living before he moved into property. I always have been. No matter what you and your family think.’

Amber inhaled sharply and tugged her hand away from his.

‘Wait a minute. Don’t you dare accuse me of treating you differently because your dad was our driver. Because I didn’t. I never did, and you know that. You were the one who was always defending yourself. Not me.’

‘Your mother...’

‘I’m not talking about my mother. I’m talking about you and me. I would never, ever have looked down on you because of the job you did. And maybe it’s about time to get over that stupid inferiority complex of yours so that you can see all of the amazing things you have achieved in your life.’

‘You mean like being an international concert pianist who is able to perform in front of thousands of people? Or my wonderful career as a fashion model and cosmetics guru? Is that what you mean?’

‘I was in the right place at the right time and I got lucky. And you are insufferable.’

‘And you are deluded.’

Amber glared at him for several seconds before she took a slow breath and shook her head slowly from side to side, before flicking her long hair back over her left shoulder.

‘Parents. They have a lot to answer for. And that includes mine as well as yours. It’s a good thing that we have both been able to rise above them to become so independent and calm and even-tempered.’

‘Isn’t it just.’

Amber slowly lowered her legs to the floor and shuffled closer to him on the bench so that there were inches and ten years of lost time between them. So close that he could hear her breathing increase in speed with his.

‘Which reminds me...’ Sam smiled and released her to dive inside his jacket pocket and pull out a long slim envelope which he passed to her. ‘Happy birthday, Amber.’

And, without waiting for her to reply, he leant forwards and kissed her tenderly but swiftly on the cheek. Lingering just long enough to inhale her scent and feel her waist under his fingertips before he drew back.

She looked at him with wide, startled eyes. ‘Thank you. I mean, I wasn’t expecting anything. Can I... Can I open it now?’

‘Please. Go ahead.’

Sam looked around the garden for the few seconds it took for her to slide a manicured fingernail under the flap of the envelope and draw out a slim piece of faded paper.

‘Sam? What is this? It looks like...’ And then she understood what she was holding and her breath caught at the back of her throat.

‘Is this what I think it is?’

Then she shook her head and sat back away from him, head down, reading the letters in the dim light before speaking again. And this time her voice came out in one long breath.

‘This is the cheque my mother gave you to leave me alone.’

She looked up at him and her gaze darted from the cheque to his face and then back to the cheque again. ‘I don’t understand. She told me that she had offered you enough cash to take you through journalism school.’

Amber dropped the cheque into her lap and took hold of his hand, her eyes brimming with tears. ‘Why? Why didn’t you use this money, Sam? The damage had already been done.’

Sam raised his hand and stroked her cheek with his fingertips, until they were on her temple, forcing her to look into his eyes.

‘Your mother knew the real thing when she saw it. I was dazzled by you, Amber. Dazzled and scared about how deep I was getting into a relationship I never saw coming. She took one look at me and saw a terrified young man who had barely survived his parents’ divorce and was determined not to make the same mistake myself. She knew that we cared about each other very much. Too much. You were so beautiful and talented and for some crazy reason you wanted to be my friend and were even willing to sacrifice your music scholarship to stay in London with me. She couldn’t let that happen.’

Sam made a slicing motion with the flat of his hand through the air.

‘So she did the only thing she knew. She used my feelings for you to break us up.’

The air was broken by the sound of Amber’s ragged breathing but Sam kept going. If ever there was a time and a place for the truth to come out, this was as good as any.

‘All she had to do was put the idea in my head that you were looking for a ring on your finger and a house and two kids and that was it. She didn’t need to spell it out. Staying with me would mean the end of your career as a concert pianist and my grandiose fantasy scheme to be an intrepid international reporter.’

Sam turned to face the garden so that he could rest his elbows on his knees, only too well aware that Amber’s gaze would still be fixed on his face.

‘That was the weird thing. I didn’t believe her at first. I kept telling myself that she simply wanted me to leave you alone because she didn’t think that I was good enough or ambitious enough for you.

‘The problem was, when I went back into the party, you were talking to your rich friends from the private school who were all in designer gear and real jewels, chatting away about yacht holidays, and the more I thought about it, the more I realised that maybe she had a point. What future did we have together? If you stayed with me, I would be holding you back. You would be better taking the scholarship and spending the next three years in Paris with people who could further your career. People who sat in the back of limos. Not in the driver’s seat.’

‘Sam—no!’ Amber exploded. ‘How could you even think that? Why didn’t you come and talk to me about what she had said? I would have put that idea out of your head right then and there.’

He shook his head. ‘Clever woman, your mother. She knew that my dad was on his own because my mum had walked out on us. All she had to do was plant the idea in my head that if I wasn’t good enough for my own mother—then how could I possibly be good enough for her beautiful and talented daughter who deserved the very best in life? The big chip on my shoulder did the rest.’

Amber took his hand in hers and squeezed but he dared not look at her. Not yet. ‘It was all too much; my head was thumping with the champagne and I couldn’t deal with everything with the sound of the party going on around me. So I slipped out of the kitchen door and into the car park to get some air.’

Sam looked up into the sky, where the stars were already bright. ‘And you know who was there, waiting for me in the convertible?’

‘Petra,’ she replied in a shaky voice.

He nodded. ‘She had a bottle of champagne and two glasses and my mind was so racing with all the possibilities and problems and options that it never even occurred to me to wonder why she was outside in the first place. It was only later that I found out—Petra knew that I was going to be coming outside.’

‘My mother sent Petra out to wait for you? Is that what you’re saying?’

Sam nodded. ‘Petra called a few days later to tell me that her folks were taking her to their villa in Tuscany for the whole of the summer before finishing school in Switzerland. I think she was genuinely sorry that she had been used the way she was, but by then it was too late. You had already left for Paris. It was too late. She had done it. She had broken us up.’

Amber pushed off the bench and walked across the patio to the flower beds and stood with her back to Sam, her shoulders heaving up and down with emotion.

Every word that Sam had said echoed around inside her head, making it impossible for her to reply to him.

Her good arm wrapped tight around her waist, trying to hold in the explosion of confusion and regret that was threatening to burst out of her at any moment.

And not just about what had happened on her eighteenth birthday.

She had been so totally trusting and gullible! But the more she thought about it, the more she recognised that Sam was right. She was still dancing to her family’s tune eleven years later—and the worst thing was, she was the one who was allowing them to do it.

So much for her great plans to make a new life for herself!

She was still too afraid to make her own decisions and follow her heart.

No longer.

That ended tonight.

From now on, she chose what to do and where. And who with.

Starting with Parvita. She wanted to see her friend get married so very much and that was precisely what she was going to do. Risk be damned.

Before Amber could calm her beating heart, she sensed his presence and seconds later a strong hand slid onto each side of her waist, holding her firm. Secure. She breathed in his aftershave, but did not resist as he moved closer behind her until she could feel the length of his body from chest to groin pressed against her back.

She had not even realised that she was shivering until she felt the delicious warmth and weight of Sam’s dinner jacket as he dropped it over her shoulders.

Sam’s arms wrapped tighter around her waist, the fingers pressing oh so gently into her ribcage and Amber closed her eyes, her pulse racing. It had been a long time. And he smelt fabulous. Felt. Fabulous.

Sam pressed his head into the side of her neck, his light stubble grazing against her skin, and her head dropped back slightly so that it was resting on his.

Bad head.

Bad need for contact with this man.

Bad full stop.

One of his hands slid up the side of her neck and smoothed her hair away from her face so that he could press his lips against the back of her neck.

‘It was all my fault,’ he said, and his low, soft voice sounded different. Strained. Hesitant. ‘I was trying to do the right thing and in the end I caused you pain. I’m so sorry.’

Amber sighed and looked up at the twinkling stars in the night sky, but sensed her shoulders lift with tension.

‘There’s nothing for you to be sorry about. It was eleven years ago and we were both so young and trying to find our way. It’s just...it never crossed my mind that you were trying to do the noble thing by walking out on me. I wasted a lot of angry tears. And that is just sad, Sam.’

Sam continued to breathe into her neck, and one of his hands slid up from her waist to move in small circles on her shoulders under his jacket, and Amber suddenly began to heat up at a remarkably rapid rate.

‘I know you’re tired. No wonder. I’ve watched you dance the night away and I’m glad that I was here to see that. So thank you again for inviting me. Although Kate was watching me like a hawk to make sure that I wasn’t making any moves on you.’

And that did make Amber grin. ‘Kate the virtue keeper. I like that.’

Sam said nothing, but the hand tracing circles slid down her arm from shoulder to wrist, and he moved impossibly closer, his hand moving slowly up and down her arm.

‘And necessary. You look very beautiful tonight.’

Amber smiled wide enough for Sam to sense her movement. ‘Thank you. And thank you for finally telling me the truth about what happened.’

She slowly lifted one of Sam’s hands from her waist and pushed gently away from him, instantly sorry that she had broken the touch, but turned back to face him.

‘It’s gone midnight. And I have had a very bad year, Sam. In so many ways. I don’t want to start the next year of my life with regrets and bitterness.’

The smile on his lips faded and his upper lip twitched a couple of times. Amber knew that move. He couldn’t be nervous. Could he?

She looked into his face and smiled a closed mouth smile. ‘We both made mistakes. And I’m the last person who should be judging anyone. So how about starting the next year of my life as we mean to go on? As old friends who have just met up again after a long break. Can you do that?’

‘Old friends,’ he replied and lifted her fingers to his lips, his eyes never leaving hers. ‘I’ll drink to that. How about...’

But, before Sam could finish speaking, a fat lounger cushion whacked him on the side of the head. And then a second time.

‘You can stop that right now, Sam Richards. I mean it. Stop or I’ll go and find the rolling pin and wrap it around your ears.’

‘It’s okay, Kate.’ Amber sighed and rolled her eyes. ‘Sam has just passed the audition. He’ll be coming to India to interview me next week. You can put the pillow down.’

Sam stopped ducking his head and whipped around. ‘What did you just say?’

‘I have changed my mind about going to Parvita’s wedding.’ Amber smiled, her eyebrows high. ‘Isn’t that exciting?’

TEN

From: Amber@AmberDuBois.net

To: Kate@LondonBespokeTailoring.com;

Saskia@ElwoodHouse.co.uk

Subject: Sam Report

Hey Goddesses

Greetings from another gorgeous day in Kerala. The girls are still trying to settle down after all of the excitement of Parvita’s wedding so lots to do, but my wrist is feeling a lot better today—despite all of the sitar playing!

Sam’s flight was an hour late leaving London so he won’t arrive until very late in the evening, which is probably a good thing considering this pre monsoon heatwave. No doubt he is bursting to get this interview over and done with so he can get back to his nice cool London office. Especially since I asked the janitor to pick Sam up at the airport in his rusty old motor, which is definitely on its last legs. Just for Kate.

Will report back tomorrow. Have fun. Amber

Sam Richards slid his rucksack off his shoulder and mopped the sweat from his brow and neck with one of his dad’s pocket handkerchiefs as he strolled up the few steps to the single storey white building. If it was this hot at dusk he was dreading the midday temperature. But he would find out soon enough.

Great! Not.

The school janitor, who had picked him up at the airport, had pointed him towards the main entrance to the girls’ home but Sam had barely been able to hear what he said since he kept the wreck of a car engine going just in case it broke down before he made it home.

The last hour had been spent in a bone-shaking car from the nineteen-sixties driven by a friendly janitor who seemed oblivious to the fact that he was hitting every pothole on the dirt road between the local airport and the girls’ home in a car with bald tyres and no suspension.

Sam was amazed that the patched up, barely intact motor had lasted the journey without breaking down in a coconut grove or rice paddy. But it had got him here and for that he was grateful.

Slipping his sunglasses into his shirt breast pocket, Sam stretched his arms tall and tried to take in the sensory overload that was the Kerala coastline at sunset.

And failed.

The sea breeze from the shockingly beautiful crescent shaped bay was blocked by the low brick wall which formed the boundary of the property, creating a breathless oasis of fruit trees, a vegetable garden and exotic flowering plants which spilled out in an explosion of startlingly bright colours from wooden tubs and planters.

The immaculately kept gardens stretched down to the ocean and a wide strip of stunning white sand which glowed in the reflected shades of deep rich apricot, scarlet and gold from the setting sun. His view of the lapping waves was broken only by the thin trunks of tall coconut palms, banana plants and fruit trees.

It was like a poster of a dream beach from the cover of a holiday brochure. Complete with a long wooden fishing boat on the shore and umbrellas made from coconut palm fronds to protect the fishermen and occasional tourists who were out on the beach this late in the evening.

Coconuts. He was looking at real coconut palm trees. Compared to the grey, drizzly London Sam had left the previous afternoon the warm breeze was luxuriously dry and scented with the salty tang from the sea blended with spice and a tropical sweet floral scent.

A great garland of bougainvillea with stunning bright purple and hot pink flowers wound its way up the side of the school entrance and onto the coconut fibre roof, intertwined with a wonderful frangipani which spilled out from a blue ceramic pot, attracting bees and other nectar-seeking insects to the intensely fragrant blossoms. The perfume almost balanced out the heavy red dust from the dirt road and the bio odours from the cows and chickens who roamed freely on the other side of a low coconut matting fence.

He loved writing and his life as a journalist. He always had, but it was only when he came to villages like this one that it really struck home how much of his life was spent in open plan offices under fluorescent light tubes.

Even the air tasted different on his tongue. Traffic from the coast road roared past. Trucks in all colours, painted auto rickshaws and bright yellow buses competed with birdsong and the chatter of people and motor scooters. Everywhere he looked his eyes and ears were assaulted by a cacophony of life.

But as he relaxed into the scene, hands on his hips, the sound of piano music drifted out through the partly open door of what looked like a school building to his left and Sam smiled and wandered over, his shirt sticking to his back in the oppressive heat and humidity.

Amber was sitting on a very frail looking low wooden bench in front of an upright piano which had definitely seen better days. The polish was flaking off, the lid was warped and, from where he was standing, it looked as if some of the black keys were missing at the bottom of the scale.

But it didn’t matter. Because Amber DuBois was running the fingers of her left hand across the keyboard and suddenly the old neglected instrument was singing like a nightingale.

She was dressed in a blue and pink long-sleeved cotton tunic and what looked like pyjama bottoms, her hair was held back by a covered elastic band and, as her feet moved across the pedals, he caught a glimpse of a plastic flip-flop.

And, for the first time in his professional life, Sam Richards did not know what to say.

Amber DuBois had never looked more beautiful in her life.

Exotic. Enchanting. But at that moment there was something else—she was totally and completely relaxed and content. Her eyes were closed and, as she played, she was humming along gently to the music as it soared into flights of soft and then dramatic sections of what sounded to Sam’s uneducated ears as some great romantic composer’s finest work.

Her shoulders lifted and fell, her left arm flowing from side to side in brilliant technique while her plastered hand moved stiffly from octave to octave. But that did not matter—the music was so magical and captivating that it reverberated around this tiny school room and into every bone of his body.