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Hadn’t it?
She moistened her lips. ‘We’d better go in,’ she said, barely registering the dog gambolling beside them. ‘Freya might be awake.’
‘Yes,’ said Lex, ‘perhaps we better had.’
What chance had he had of working after that? Lex switched off the light and climbed into bed beside Romy. It had been madness to kiss her out there in the snow, but he hadn’t been able to stop himself. She had been so close, so perfect, and it had felt so right. The feel of her, the taste of her had set tremors going in his heart. He could almost hear it cracking.
It had been his own fault. He should have stayed inside and worked, the way he had intended to do. But when they came back to the house, and Romy went off to find Freya, instead of sitting down at his computer and emailing Summer, Lex had wandered around, eventually finding himself in a room that was empty of all but a few chairs and a piano.
And not just any piano. A Bösendorfer, no less. Lex had a grand in his penthouse apartment, but it wasn’t as big as this one. To Lex, it seemed to exert a pull that drew him across the room, to run his hand over its gleaming mahogany top and then lift the lid to press a key, then another and another. Without quite knowing how it had happened, Lex found himself sitting on the stool and letting his fingers run over the keys and then he was playing.
He played out the tumult of feeling inside him that had gripped him ever since Romy had ducked her head and stepped into the cabin. He played out the memory of her touch, the way she made him feel, and then, so gradually he hardly noticed that he was doing it, he started to play the strange feeling of liberation that morning, that sense of being dropped into a different world, isolated by the snow, where all the usual rules were suspended.
And after a while, the tune changed again, to echo old Scottish folk songs that he had once learnt, and to play out the glittering morning and the air and the hills and the water, and Romy, laughing in the snow.
Lex played on, absorbed in the music, unaware of anyone else until a movement from doorway made him look up. Willie was there, listening, and the grief in his eyes made Lex’s fingers still.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I should have asked if I could use the piano.’
Willie waved the apology aside. ‘I’m glad you did. I haven’t heard it since Moira died, but I can’t bring myself to get rid it.’
He asked if Lex would play again that evening, and Lex was glad to. He didn’t normally like performing for an audience, but playing was better than sitting next to Romy and feeling his hands itch with the need to touch her. Better than having to pretend to her that he didn’t want her, while pretending to Willie that he did.
He found some music in the piano stool, and played the most battered scores, which he guessed would have been Moira Grant’s favourites. Romy sat next to Willie and held his hand while the tears rolled down his face.
‘Thank you,’ he said simply when Lex had finished. ‘I’m glad you came. I’m glad my store’s going to be run by a man who can play like that.’
The thaw had set in already. By lunchtime, the glittering morning had vanished beneath the cloud cover, and the temperature had risen with remarkable speed. Tomorrow, it was clear, they would be able to leave. Lex lay in the dark and listened to the steady drip, drip, drip of melting snow outside the window.
Get through tonight, he told himself. That’s all you have to do.
Beside him, Romy was concentrating on breathing very quietly. The curtains hanging round the bed smelt musty, but the sheets were clean and faintly scented. The mattress was comfortable. It was dark. She had hardly slept the night before and now she was very tired.
There was no reason why she shouldn’t be able to sleep.
Except the memory of that kiss that had been thrumming beneath her skin all day. And then Lex’s playing had stirred up emotions Romy had rather left buried. She hadn’t been able to take her eyes off his hands while he was playing, hadn’t been able to stop remembering those long, dextrous fingers smoothing and stroking, exploring her, unlocking her.
Stop thinking about it, she told herself. Get through tonight. That’s all you have to do.
CHAPTER SEVEN
AFRAID to move in case she disturbed Lex, Romy stared into the darkness and told herself to be sensible while the silence lengthened, stretched, and at last grew so painful that she couldn’t bear it any more.
‘Lex?’ she asked quietly, just in case he was asleep after all.
There was a tiny pause, and then he let out a breath. ‘Yes?’
‘You’re not asleep?’
‘No.’
‘Neither am I.’
‘I gathered that.’ Lex sounded resigned. Or amused. Or exasperated. Or maybe all three.
Romy sighed and rolled onto her side to face him through the darkness. ‘I can’t sleep. I keep thinking about that kiss this morning.’
‘That was a mistake,’ he said after a moment.
‘Was it?’
She could just make out his profile. He
wasn’t looking at her. He was looking up at the ceiling. ‘I’ve spent twelve years trying to forget Paris,’ he said. ‘Trying to forget you. One kiss, and I might as well not have bothered.’
He sounded bitter, and Romy bit her lip.
‘I think about that time too,’ she said quietly. ‘I think the reason I can’t forget it is because we never ended it properly. You just…left. We never talked about it, never had a chance to say goodbye.’
‘What was the point of talking?’ asked Lex. ‘You didn’t want to be with me. You wanted to make a life on your own, and you were right. There was no point in me staying. It was over.’
‘It didn’t feel over,’ said Romy. ‘It didn’t feel over this morning when we kissed.’
There was a silence, loud with memories. Then Lex turned and lay on his side so that they faced each other at last. ‘Do you remember what you said out there in the snow? You said that I wasn’t afraid of anything.’
‘I remember,’ she said softly.
‘I’m afraid of how I felt about you. I’m afraid of feeling that way again.’ The words came out stiffly, forced through tight lips as if against his will. ‘I don’t want to fall in love with you again, Romy,’ he said.
Romy drew a breath, heart cracking at the suppressed pain in his voice. ‘I don’t want to fall in love with you either,’ she told him. ‘I don’t want to need you. I don’t want to need anybody.’ She swallowed. ‘I’m not suggesting we try again. It didn’t work twelve years ago, and it’s not going to work now. We both know that.’
She could feel Lex’s eyes on her face through the darkness, sense the tautness of his body. ‘What are you suggesting?’ he asked.
‘That we have one more night,’ said Romy. ‘One last time together and, this time, we’ll end it properly. Tomorrow, we’ll say goodbye and draw a line under everything we’ve had together. We can get on with our lives without wondering how it would have been.’
Hardly able to believe how calm she sounded when her pulse was booming and thumping, she edged towards the middle of the bed. ‘We could think of it as closure.’
Lex shifted over the mattress and laid his palm against her cheek in the darkness, feeling her quiver at his touch. ‘Closure,’ he repeated, as if trying out the word.
He liked the idea. One last night. No more wondering, no more regretting. Just accepting at long last that it was over.
‘It’s just been such a strange day,’ said Romy, lifting her hand to his wrist, unable to stop herself touching him in return. ‘I’ve felt unreal all day, as if I’ve stepped into a different world.’
‘I know what you mean.’ They were very close now. Lex let his fingers slide under her hair, curl around the soft nape of her neck, and her hand was drifting up to his shoulder. ‘As if the normal rules don’t apply today.’
‘Exactly,’ she said unevenly.
‘Tomorrow, we’re going back to the real world.’ Already he was unwinding her sarong, his hand warm and sure, curving now around her breast, dipping into her waist, over her hip and then slipping possessively to the base of her spine to pull her closer. ‘Tomorrow, we go back to normal.’
‘I know.’
Romy’s senses were reeling. She had a vague sense that they should be talking this through properly, but how could she talk when he was smoothing possessively down her thigh to the back of her knee and up again, gentling up her spine, making her gasp with the warmth of his hand? When he was rolling her onto her back, when she was pulling him over her? When he was pressing his mouth to the curve of her neck so that she sucked in a breath and arched beneath him.
‘It’s just tonight,’ she managed, barely aware of what she was saying, loving his warm, sleek weight on her, loving the feel of his back beneath her hands, the flex of response when she trailed her fingers up his flank. It felt so right to touch him again that her heart squeezed and she could hardly breathe with it.
‘Just tonight,’ Lex murmured agreement against her throat.
Beneath his hands, beneath the wicked pleasure of his lips, Romy felt all thought evaporate. There was only Lex and the heat and the rush and the wild joy, so she didn’t even hear when he said it again. ‘Tomorrow, it’ll be over.’
The car was packed. Freya, strapped firmly in, was kicking her heels petulantly against the car seat, her face screwed up in sullen protest. When Willie waved through the window, she refused to smile back at him.
The crispness of the day before had vanished under thick grey cloud. There was still snow, but it was slumped and saggy now. Great clumps kept slipping off the branches in a shower of white.
Romy kissed Willie affectionately as she said goodbye, and even managed a brief pat for Magnus.
Lex shook Willie’s hand. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Thank you for everything. It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.’
‘Likewise,’ said Willie, wringing his hand in return. ‘I’m glad to know my stores will be in good hands.’
‘We’ll let the lawyers draw up the contract, then, when we’re both happy with it, we’ll arrange a formal signing.’ Lex was all business this morning. ‘I presume that you would like that to take place here?’
‘Well, I’ve been thinking about that,’ said Willie, ‘and I’ve decided that I should come to London.’
‘To London?’ Lex repeated, not quite succeeding in keeping the consternation from his voice. ‘I wouldn’t ask you to do that, Willie. I’m very happy to come back here, honestly.’
‘No, I’d like to,’ Willie said. He looked from Romy to Lex, who were carefully not looking at each other. ‘Seeing you two together, hearing you play piano. I’m not sure how to explain, but you’ve made me realise that it’s time to start living again,’ he told them.
‘Ever since Moira died, I’ve been hiding away here, but she wouldn’t have wanted that. She used to like to go to London. We always stayed at Claridges.’ He nodded firmly, mind made up. ‘I’ll stay there. I’ll sign the contract. I’ll see you both again, and Freya, I hope. It’ll be good for me.’
There was a pause. Afraid that Willie would hear the dismay in it, Romy rushed to fill the silence. ‘Well…that’s great, Willie. You must come to dinner. I don’t think Claridges is quite ready for Freya yet.’
Willie beamed. ‘That would be very nice.’
Lex was left with little choice. ‘We’ll look forward to it,’ he said.
There was silence in the car as they bumped carefully down the track. Willie was lost to sight and they were turning onto the single track road before Romy spoke.
‘Now what?’ she asked.
‘Now we go back to London.’
‘You know what I mean. Willie’s coming to London. He’s going to expect to see us together.’
‘He is,’ Lex agreed grimly. ‘Especially now you’ve invited him to dinner.’
‘I had to! It would have looked really odd if neither of us said anything, when we’ve been staying with him and drinking all his whisky.’
‘I suppose so.’ Lex’s mouth was pulled down at the corners, his brows drawn together in an irritable line. ‘But now we’re going to have to stay a couple until this bloody contract is signed, and who knows how long it will be before we can do that. Once the lawyers get their hands on it, it could be months!’
‘Months?’ Romy was dismayed.
‘Weeks, anyway.’
‘Whatever happened to “tomorrow it’ll be over”?’ She sighed.
It was the first time either of them had referred to the night before. When Romy stirred that morning, Lex had already showered and shaved. His face was set, his eyes shuttered, and she could see that it was over, just as they had agreed.
Romy told herself that she was glad that he was sticking to their agreement. Closure, wasn’t that what she had called it? Easy to say before his mouth was hot and wicked against her, before the heat and the wildness drove them into a different place where there was nothing but touching and feeling and the heart-stopping joy of now.
If Lex had woken her with a kiss, if he had touched her at all and suggested that they made love one more time… Romy wanted to think that she would have been strong enough and sensible enough to resist, but she wasn’t sure.
‘It is over,’ said Lex, without taking his eyes from the road. ‘Last night was about us. This is about business. We’ve started on a pretence and now we’re going to have to keep it going. It would have been fine if Willie had stayed at Duncardie like he was supposed to, but too many people in London will be able to tell him we’re nothing to do with each other.’
‘We told him we were keeping it a secret,’ Romy pointed out.
‘No relationship is that secret. Even Willie is going to wonder why no one at all has any inkling that we’ve even met, let alone are engaged. I’m not prepared to take that risk,’ said Lex. ‘If Willie even suspects that we’ve been pretending, it would be even worse than if we’d told him the truth about my lack of family man credentials in the first place.’
‘Oh, dear,’ Romy sighed again. ‘I wish now I’d been straight with him right at the start.’
‘It’s too late for wishing,’ Lex said. ‘We’re stuck with this pretence now, and we’ll have to see it through to the bitter end. It’s not as if I’m a monster. I may not be prepared to share my life with a kid, but that doesn’t mean I send little boys up chimneys. Gibson & Grieve have plenty of family-friendly policies, as you pointed out. It’s a good deal for Grant’s Supersavers as well as for us.’
Part of Romy marvelled that they were able to talk so dispassionately about the situation. It was bizarre to be having such a practical conversation when last night… But there was no point in thinking about last night, she caught herself up quickly. Much better to be talking about how they were going to handle the pretence than to sit here in silence, her body still thrumming, remembering, and reminding herself of all the reasons why it was sensible that they never made love again.
I don’t want to fall in love with you again, Lex had said. Until then, Romy hadn’t appreciated just how much she had hurt him. She couldn’t do that to him again.
And she couldn’t hurt herself. The need to protect herself was too deeply engrained for Romy to be able to contemplate loving Lex the way he deserved to be loved. To risk needing him. She would be too exposed when it ended, as end it would.
How could it last when they were so different, when they wanted such different things? Lex couldn’t have made it clearer. He wasn’t prepared to share his life with a child.
Romy glanced over her shoulder at Freya, who had fallen asleep before they got to the road. The sight of her daughter steadied her. Even if Lex changed his mind, even if she were brave enough to take the risk for herself, she still wouldn’t do it. If Freya spent too much time with Lex, she would learn to love him. That was what children did. And then, when he left, when he couldn’t bear the mess and the noise any longer, her heart would break. Romy knew what it felt like to be abandoned. She wouldn’t let that happen to her daughter.
She turned back to face the front, and glanced at Lex. ‘OK, we’re stuck with it,’ she said briskly. This is about business, he had said. Business it would be. ‘What do you suggest?’
‘I think you—and Freya—should move into my flat.’
‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea,’ said Romy.
‘Why not?’
‘People at work will realise. Someone’s bound to see us.’
‘That’s the whole point,’ he said irritably. ‘We want them to realise. Then when Willie turns up, nobody is going to act surprised if we’re together. And you and Freya are there when he comes to this dinner you’ve invited him to.’
Romy stuck out her bottom lip. ‘But that’s weeks away! Why can’t I stay in my flat, and just come and cook dinner that night?’
‘Because nobody is going to believe that we’re a real couple if you’re flogging back to your flat. When are we supposed to have this mad, passionate affair if you’re spending two hours every day on the Northern Line?’
‘Nobody needs to know where I’m going,’ she said stubbornly, and Lex threw her a disbelieving glance.
‘Want a bet?’
Romy folded her arms crossly. She could see it made sense, but living with Lex for weeks on end, trying not to think about touching him, trying not to remember… How was she going to bear it?
‘Are you sure you’ve thought this through?’ she said. ‘You think there’s a lot of Freya’s stuff in the back, but that’s what we needed for a night away. Imagine what we’ll need if we’re staying for weeks.’
‘I’m not expecting to enjoy the experience,’ said Lex, ‘but if it means the deal with Grant’s Supersavers goes through, then I’ll put up with it.’
‘And what about me?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘What do I get out of it?’
‘You get a fantastic reference, and the experience of working on a successful project,’ said Lex. ‘That’s worth a lot when you’re looking for a good job.’
Romy knew that it was true. She badly needed both. She had had a lovely time drifting around the world, but she was ill equipped when it came to supporting her daughter. Phin’s offer of a temporary job with Gibson & Grieve had been a godsend, but finding a well-paid permanent job would be more of a challenge.
And even if she hadn’t needed something impressive on her CV, there was Tim and the rest of the acquisitions team to think about. They had made her welcome, taught her all they knew. They needed the deal with Grant’s Supersavers to go through, too. She couldn’t let them down either.
‘All right,’ she said, turning her bracelets as she tried to think it through. ‘Freya and I move in with you. We let people think we’re living together. Fine. How long before our mothers get wind of it?’
‘Oh, God,’ said Lex. He hadn’t thought about his mother. Or Romy’s mother. The mothers together. ‘Oh, God,’ he said again.
‘We can’t tell them the truth.’
He actually blanched. ‘God, no!’
‘So that means they’re going to have to believe that we’re in love,’ Romy went on remorselessly.
‘Oh, no…’ He could see exactly where she was going with this.
‘And that will mean that there’ll be hell to pay when it turns out that we’re not getting married after all.’
Lex gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white as he imagined the scene in appalling detail. ‘We’ll just have to say that it didn’t work out,’ he said. ‘We’ll say it was a mutual decision.’
‘I could say that I wanted to take Freya to be near her father,’ Romy offered. ‘I’ve been thinking that’s what I should do anyway.’
There was a tiny pause. ‘That would work,’ Lex agreed tonelessly.
‘But your mother will be furious with me.’
‘I’ll tell her I don’t care,’ he said. ‘I’ll say that I couldn’t cope with living with a baby. She’ll believe that.’
It was Romy’s turn to pause. ‘There you are then.’
Lex shot her a swift penetrating look, then fixed his eyes on the road once more. Neither of them said anything about the night before.
‘Problem solved,’ he said.
‘Where would you like to sleep?’
It had been a long day. The drive to Inverness, the flight back to London, and then, deciding to get all the upheaval over with in one fell swoop, the limousine that picked them up from the airport had detoured via Romy’s flat so that she could pack up everything she would need for the next few weeks.
Now they stood in Lex’s penthouse flat, surrounded by a sea of bags and toys and bumper packs of nappies. Freya’s things looked even more incongruous here than they had done at Duncardie. Holding Freya in her arms, Romy looked around her, impressed and chilled in equal measure.
The living area was a huge open space with a whole wall of glass looking out over the Thames. There was a grand piano in one corner, a sleek leather sofa, a black-granite-topped table with striking chairs. No clutter, no mess, no softness or colour. Hard edges wherever she looked. It was hard to imagine anywhere less suitable for a crawling baby.
‘What’s the choice?’ she asked.
‘There are two spare rooms,’ said Lex. ‘So you can sleep with Freya, sleep on your own.’ He hesitated. ‘Or sleep with me.’
Romy stilled. ‘I thought it was over.’
‘It was. It is.’ He moved restlessly. ‘It should be.’
All the way home he had been wrestling with memories of the night before. Closure? Hah! How could there be closure when Romy was sitting beside him, when the feel of her, the taste of her, was imprinted on his body and on his mind?
‘I just thought…if we’re going to be living together…’ He dragged his fingers through his hair, not really knowing what he was trying to say. At least, he knew what, but not how to say it. ‘It was good, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes.’ Romy set Freya on the floor, where she immediately set about unpacking toys from one of the bags, throwing them all over Lex’s pristine carpet. ‘It was too good,’ she said.
Hugging her arms together, she stepped over the bags and wandered over to the huge window. ‘It would be so easy to spend the next few weeks together, Lex. It would be good again—it would be wonderful, probably—but how would we stop then?’
‘Maybe we wouldn’t want to.’
‘Look at all this stuff!’ Romy swung round and gestured at the sea of bags and baby gear. ‘We’ve only been here five minutes and already your flat looks like a bomb has hit it. How are you going to cope with this level of mess for weeks on end?’
Her eyes rested on her daughter, who had discovered a much-loved floppy rabbit and was sucking its already battered ear. ‘Freya isn’t always as happy as this,’ she told Lex. ‘Sometimes she wakes in the nights, and the screaming will sound like a drill in your head. There’ll be dirty nappies and sticky fingers all over your furniture… You’ll hate it!’
She tried to smile. ‘Remember how you said you would tell your mother that you couldn’t cope with living with a baby? I don’t think you’ll have any difficulty sounding convincing about that.’
‘Perhaps you’re right.’ Lex rubbed a hand over his face in a gesture of weary resignation. ‘I know you’re right, in fact.’
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