Chapter 43
Matthew was in the middle of making a curry when the doorbell went. On his way back from walking Teddy this morning, he’d bumped into Faith Addis and she’d buttonholed him for a chat, in a panic about having been invited to a party over in Cirencester but not having anyone to go with.
Please don’t let it be Faith on his doorstep, plucking up the courage to ask him if he’d be her partner for the event.
Putting on his I’m-very-busy face and attempting to come up with a plausible excuse as to why he couldn’t go along to the party, whenever it might be, Matthew opened the door to find Lizzie on the doorstep instead.
‘Oh, hi . . . I thought you were going to be someone else.’ As he finished saying it, Teddy came hurtling past, greeting Lizzie with delight.
‘Sorry. If you’re busy, I can go.’ She crouched down to say hello to the little dog.
‘No, no.’ He shook his head. ‘Come on in.’
‘Ooh, got yourself a takeaway?’ She inhaled deeply. ‘Where’d you order it from?’
‘No takeaway. I’m making a curry.’ He led the way into the kitchen and gave the spices in the frying pan a brisk stir.
‘Oh my God, from actual scratch? Not even from a jar?’ Lizzie was gazing in fascination at the spices sizzling and the seeds popping like tiny firecrackers in the pan. ‘No wonder you’ve got so many women chasing after you. What’s it going to be?’
Matthew ignored the reference to the women; what had people been saying about him? Instead he indicated the ingredients lined up on the worktop. ‘Prawn pepper masala. I taught myself how to put together curries after Amanda died. I use fresh ground masala with fennel seeds, star anise and curry leaves, then add jaggery and tamarind. Loads of fried onions. King prawns. And black pepper. It’s really not that hard.’
‘You’d think an omelette wouldn’t be that hard.’ Lizzie was still breathing in, visibly swooning with delight. ‘But I’m sure Maeve told you what a state I ended up in when I tried to make one myself. Cooking isn’t one of my talents. Where is Maeve anyway? Upstairs?’
‘She’s in Cheltenham, having a night out with friends. We picked up everything she wanted and I brought it all home. She’ll be back tomorrow morning.’ He paused. ‘And I don’t have so many women after me.’
‘Maeve said you did.’ Gesturing at the cloves of garlic, the fresh tomatoes and the sizzling spices, Lizzie said, ‘This really does smell fantastic.’
While she was inhaling the cooking smells, he silently breathed in the scent she was wearing, a fresh blend of lemons and roses and something reminiscent of a summer garden. Her blond hair was loose, falling in waves around her shoulders, and her floaty sky-blue silk top and trousers showed off her curves. Teddy had now wandered off into the garden, disappointed by the absence of Boo; a long walk evidently wasn’t on the cards after all. Taking in the line of Lizzie’s neck and imagining the satiny softness of her tanned skin, Matthew wished he had the nerve to—
‘You haven’t asked me why I’m here.’ She swung round suddenly to look at him.
Damn, he hadn’t. He should have done that by now. Picking up the chopping knife and slicing recklessly into a tomato, he said, ‘I thought maybe the cooking smells had wafted across the village and you’d tracked them like a bloodhound.’
She laughed. ‘If they had, I probably would have done. But no, I wanted to tell you something.’
The way her mouth moved when she spoke was almost hypnotic. When she was laughing, her pink tongue was just visible behind her teeth, which were naturally white but not blindingly so, unlike those scary Hollywood-style veneers. He was glad about that. Anyway, stop thinking about her teeth. He gave himself a mental shake. ‘Tell me what?’
‘I called my friend Niall and told him all about the book.’
‘You did?’
Lizzie nodded. ‘I raved about it and said he had to read it because it would make the most incredible film. And he said OK, he’d download the e-book and give it a go.’
‘Well, that’s great news. I’m glad you changed your mind.’
‘But the e-book is poorly formatted and I know what Niall’s like – he’d just give up after the first page. So I told him I’d send him my copy. And I have. I FedExed it this afternoon, priority overnight delivery, so he’ll get it tomorrow and know I mean business. I also gave him Piers Sanders’ contact details . . . Why are you looking at my mouth?’
He was doing it again. He put down the knife he shouldn’t be in charge of right now and heard himself utter the words currently uppermost in his mind. ‘Because I want to kiss you.’
There, he’d said it.
‘Oh!’ Lizzie’s eyes widened. ‘Hang on, wait. Is this a joke?’
His heart was pounding. He’d started, so now he had to finish. ‘Why would it be a joke?’
‘Because, I don’t know . . . you have a weird sense of humour?’
‘It’s not a joke. But we can pretend it was, if you want. You can just laugh and then I’ll laugh, and we can go back to talking about . . . I don’t know, tamarind.’
Lizzie blinked. Then her gaze dropped to his mouth, lingering there before moving back up again. She said, ‘I’m not laughing.’
‘Me neither.’
‘I’m glad it isn’t a joke.’
‘Me too.’ But his feet appeared to have glued themselves to the floor, so it was Lizzie who made the defining move, stepping forward and sliding her arms around his waist, then resting her cheek against his shoulder for a second before finally seeking his mouth with her own.
Oh God, it felt completely amazing. Matthew could feel his senses being reawakened, reminding him how all-encompassing and irresistible a kiss could be. The closeness, the intimacy . . . every nerve ending in his body was letting him know that this – exactly this – was what he’d been missing out on. Also, and most importantly of all, that it was OK to be doing it again. There was no need to feel guilty because this mouth wasn’t Amanda’s. It was fine. It was allowed.
Above all, because nothing could possibly ever come of a relationship between a nobody like himself and a famous Hollywood actress, it was safe. The ultimate practice run.
‘Mmmphh . . .’ Breaking away first, Lizzie switched off the gas ring beneath the pan of sizzling spices. ‘Don’t want to wreck the curry.’
‘Good thinking.’ A ridiculous smile spread across his face. ‘If you want, I could show you how to make it. Would you like that?’
‘I would.’ And now she was smiling too. ‘Very much. Maybe . . . not right now. Maybe later, though.’
Was this really happening? Matthew nodded and took her hands between his. ‘Oh yes. Sounds like a plan to me.’
Lizzie could feel her pulse jumping in her neck. She’d done it. They’d done it. They’d had sex. No, more than that; they’d had out-of-this-world sex. She and Matthew Morgan. Two whole times, in fact, and the second time had been even more out-of-this-world than the first.
Then they’d showered, dressed and made their way back downstairs, and he’d shown her how he made the curry, which was like watching a proper chef do it on TV, except she’d been able to wrap her arms around his torso from behind, trail kisses down the side of his neck and whisper naughty things in his ear while he was trying to concentrate.
‘Stop it.’ He squirmed now as she playfully slid her hands up inside his T-shirt. ‘If this curry isn’t a triumph, it’ll be your fault.’
Unrepentant, she said, ‘And if it is a triumph, you’ll have me to thank.’
‘Are you hungry?’
‘Always. How are you feeling? Still OK?’ It was the third time she’d asked, concerned that post-coital guilt might be kicking in.
‘Better than OK.’
‘No panic? No regrets?’
Matthew shook his head. ‘No.’
‘You’re sure? Because it would be normal if you did feel guilty. It happens.’
‘I know. I’ve read all about it.’
So had she. Lizzie said, ‘Just so you know, I wasn’t expecting anything like this to happen when I came over here tonight.’
‘Sure about that?’
‘I really wasn’t. But I did want to tell you about FedExing the book. So you’d think I was a nice person.’
‘And not just a princess who can’t cope with dog poo.’ He was teasing her, because she was still unable to handle that side of dog-walking. ‘Anyway, I already knew you were a nice person. You gave us the best present we could have wished for, remember?’
‘There you go. Once every twenty years I make a good thing happen. Imagine what I might do when I’m sixty.’
‘Who knows?’ Matthew turned to look at her, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth. ‘Maybe you’ll fly back here to pay us another visit.’
The future. It stretched ahead, an endless grey blur. Quelling a moment of panic and opting for the casual approach, Lizzie said, ‘You never know, maybe I will.’