Chapter Sixteen
They took the shortcut through the cricket ground. The sky was dark now, filling up with stars. Walking beside Tom as he carried his little dog, Vicky knew that her heart was lost. To both of them.
“He’s a cute little thing,” she remarked for something to say. “How long have you had him?”
“Since he was around two weeks old. He and the rest of his litter were dumped in a sack in one of the bins at the recycling centre in town. He was the only one who survived.”
“Oh, that’s awful!” A sharp tear stung the corner of her eye. “Why do people do that? They could have just handed them in to a vet or the RSPCA or something.”
“Quite.” There was a grim note in his voice. She suspected that if he had ever found out who’d done it, they would have lived to regret it.
“It must have been a lot of work, rearing such a tiny thing.”
“It was.” He rubbed his cheek against the dog’s head. “Bottle-feeding for the first couple of weeks, getting him to pee and poo. Good job I’m used to that sort of thing, looking after a couple of hundred cows.”
And it would have cemented them closer than most owners and their dogs, she reflected. “He was lucky to have found you.”
He smiled down at her, all the tension eased from his face. “I was the lucky one.” He nuzzled the top of the little dog’s head again. “He’s my best buddy.”
They reached the lane and turned in through her gate, their footsteps crunching on the gravel path. Vicky felt a little flutter in the region of her heart. She had invited him into her house...
Of course it was just because of Rufus — to warm him up, give him something to eat. But even so, could this be a chance for a reset... ?
She opened the door and flicked on the light. “Come on in.”
He stepped inside and glanced around. “Ah, your new kitchen. I like it.”
“Dan did a really good job.” She hoped he wouldn’t notice the slight tremor in her voice. “Thank you for recommending him.”
“And the rest of the place?”
“Just as good. He sanded and sealed the floorboards, and they look fabulous. And my new sofa came this morning — it’s one of those really big old-fashioned-style ones, with huge squashy cushions. It looks perfect in the sitting room, in front of the fire.”
She knew that she was babbling, but she couldn’t help it. Her heart was beating so loudly she thought he must be able to hear it.
“You can wash the mud off him in the sink while I do his scrambled egg.” She lifted the washing-up bowl out of the big Belfast sink and put it to one side. “I’ll get some towels for you to dry him with.”
“Thanks.”
She hurried upstairs to fetch the towels from the linen cupboard, glad of the excuse to escape for a moment to try to compose herself. The sight of him in her kitchen, so big, so... male, really wasn’t good for her sanity.
She returned to find that he had put Rufus in the sink and was gently splashing him with warm water. A little to her surprise the little dog didn’t seem to mind at all. She laughed as Tom took the towels from her.
“You’re almost as muddy as he is.”
He glanced down at his T-shirt, laughing too, then in a move she hadn’t anticipated he tugged it off over his head.
So much for composure. The sight of his powerful body — the smooth sun-bronzed skin, the swell and dip of hard muscle, the smattering of dark curling hair across his wide chest...
Quickly she turned away. “I’ll... get that scrambled egg going — he can have it as soon as he’s had his bath.”
Her hands were shaking so much she was afraid she’d drop the eggs. But she managed to whip up the mix and pop it in the microwave without any disasters.
“Coffee?”
“That would be good.”
He lifted Rufus out of the sink and wrapped him up in one of the towels to scrub him dry. “He’s exhausted — he usually fights like mad when I try to give him a bath. Unfortunately he likes to roll in stinky things, so it’s a frequent necessity.”
Vicky filled a dish with water and set it down on the floor. “Here — he’ll probably want this.”
“Thanks.”
Tom put the pup down beside the bowl and he lapped it up thirstily. The microwave pinged and she took out the scrambled egg, and tipped it onto a plate. It disappeared as swiftly as the water, and then with a huge sigh he just lay down, his head on his paws, and immediately fell asleep.
“Here.” She folded a spare towel and laid it on the floor of the inglenook, close to the warmth of the range cooker. “He’ll be more comfortable on this.”
Rufus didn’t even open his eyes as Tom lifted him onto the towel. He just curled round in a tight ball, snuffling, and slept on.
“He’ll be okay.” He covered the little dog with another warm towel. “Dogs have incredible powers of recovery.” A dark shadow crossed his face. “Though I don’t know how much longer he would have survived if we hadn’t found him.”
“But we did find him.” Without conscious intent, Vicky laid her hand on his shoulder.
“Yes . . .”
He put his hand over hers as if to keep it there, his eyes dark as they gazed down into hers — so dark she felt as if she could drown in them. His forehead tipped against hers, resting there for a long moment as their breathing fell into the same slow rhythm.
She closed her eyes, letting herself absorb the emotions that were swirling through her brain, all the reasons why she shouldn’t be allowing this to happen.
It was far too soon. If she had a fling with him her heart would be far too vulnerable, and if she stayed she would have to go on living next door to him.
And that actress. Yes, she’d been a masochist — looked her up online, read all about her and watched several episodes of the detective series Debbie had mentioned.
But none of that weighed against the surge of temptation sweeping aside all rational thought. Nothing mattered but this moment — she couldn’t remember that she had ever felt this way. Out of control.
And then he was kissing her, his lips warm and enticing, coaxing hers apart, his languorous tongue plundering deep into her mouth. And she was kissing him back, her tongue sparring with his, her hands tangling into the crisp curls at the nape of his neck.
Her heart was racing so fast she felt dizzy. Pinned against the kitchen table by his hard body, she was made devastatingly aware of the rising tension of male arousal in him.
And she felt the same urgency. She slid her hands up over his chest, tracing through that smattering of rough, dark, curling hair, moaning softly as she felt the warmth of his skin and the ripple of hard muscle.
With little finesse he tugged her sweater off over her head. His work-roughened hands stroked up her back and round over her midriff, rising to encompass the ripe curve of her breasts, constrained in the tight lace cups of her bra, and she gasped as his thumbs teased over the taut buds of her nipples.
He laughed, low and husky. “Are you going to show me the rest of the cottage?”
“Uh . . . ?”
A glint of pure sensuous promise lit his eyes. “Let’s start with the bedroom.”
Vicky drew in the breath that had been trapped in her throat. Her legs felt so wobbly she wasn’t sure that she would be able to climb the stairs. But Tom solved that problem for her by scooping her up in his arms as if she weighed nothing at all.
She laughed a little unsteadily. “Tough guy, huh?”
“You’d better believe it. Wrangling a ten-stone calf who wants to go one way when you want it to go the other is better than hours in the gym.”
She smiled up at him, tipping her head against his shoulder. “I’m not complaining.”
He nudged open the bedroom door. Vicky was glad that all those roses had gone — this didn’t feel like a moment for pretty roses. The walls and carpet were a soft, rich plum that matched the satin bedcover, creating a sensuous atmosphere, enhanced by the scent of the fresh potpourri in the crackled-glass bowl on the dressing table.
As Tom laid her on the bed she wrapped her arms around him and drew him down to her. He reached over to switch on the bedside light, bathing the room in a warm golden glow. Propping himself up on his elbow he smiled down at her.
“Looks like we’re postponing the tour of the cottage.”
“Looks like it.”
“Maybe later...” He let his gaze wander down over her body. “Mmm — delicious.”
A bubble of laughter rose to her lips. “You make me sound like one of Debbie’s cupcakes.”
He shook his head, laughing softly. “No comparison.”
With slow deliberation he traced one fingertip along the lacy edge of her bra. Anticipation was sizzling through her veins. As she gazed up into his dark eyes it seemed as if all her wild fantasies had sprung to life.
With a deft movement he unfastened the clasp of her bra and tossed the lacy scrap aside, and began to trace lazy circles over her bare skin. His touch was slow and sure, lingering over every contour, and she moaned softly, aching for more.
He laughed, warm and husky, and lowered his head, his mouth claiming hers, hard and urgent. She slid her hands over his shoulders, savouring the smooth movement of those powerful muscles.
Then his hot kisses moved on, tracing a scalding path over her trembling eyelids, across her temple and around the delicate shell of her ear, then on down the slender column of her throat.
Her breathing was ragged as she moved against him, his name a sigh on her lips as she begged incoherently for more. But he was making her wait, driving her out of her mind.
His hands and mouth roved over every contour of her body, stirring her blood. He was tracing a teasing path over the aching curve of her breasts, his tongue swirling languorously around each taut pink nipple, his lips and teeth teasing them and sparking fire along her taut-strung nerve fibres.
At some point they had both shed the rest of their clothes — she hadn’t even noticed until his hand smoothed down over her bare thighs, then slipped between to seek the most intimate caresses.
Heat was flooding her veins, pooling like molten gold in the pit of her stomach. Then as the pad of his thumb stroked over the tiny seed-pearl hidden deep in the velvet folds, a shaft of pure pleasure shot through her and she gasped convulsively, her fists clenching as she dragged in a breath.
Some part of her mind had registered that he had torn open a small foil packet. She took it from him and eased the gossamer sheath over his hard length. But now everything was swirling heat and darkness as she twined her legs around him, arching her spine and drawing him deep inside her.
He took her mouth with a raw hunger, fierce and possessive, and she slid her hands down his back, responding without constraint, moving beneath him in a dance as old as time.
Tension was coiling inside her like the warning sizzle before a lightning strike. Delirious, she clung to him as they soared together, higher and dizzily higher, in a vortex of flame, until at last it exploded around them, tipping them over the edge, and they tumbled together to collapse on the bed, breathless and sweating, in a tangle of arms and legs.
* * *
Time spun slowly back into its normal course. Vicky lay curled up in the crook of Tom’s arm, her eyes closed — if she could have her wish, she would stay there for ever.
Her fingers were trailing lightly through the smattering of dark hair across his chest.
“Do you always carry condoms in your back pocket?” Dammit, why had she asked that? She didn’t really want to know the answer.
He laughed softly and propped himself up on one elbow. “Not always. I was just kind of hoping you might change your mind about me. And if there was a chance...” He twirled one finger into a curl of her not-quite-blonde hair. “I’m not sure if that’s hopelessly optimistic or insufferably arrogant.”
“Hmm.” She pursed her lips, pretending to give the matter due consideration. “A tad arrogant, maybe — but not insufferably so.” She hesitated briefly. “Actually the reason I was so off with you that day was because I thought you were married.”
His eyebrows rose in surprise. “Married?”
“To Lisa.”
“Ollie’s Lisa?”
“Yes.” She managed a crooked smile. “I saw you with Noah — at the kid’s party, and... I thought he was your son.”
He looked faintly puzzled. “I was babysitting. Lisa was on a late shift and Ollie had got caught up with something at the surgery, so he rang me to pick him up.”
“Oh. Then at the cricket, I heard Debbie call her Mrs Cullen.”
“And like following your satnav instead of using your head you went off down the wrong track.” There was a lilt of mocking amusement in his voice.
“Well, you did too, didn’t you?” she retorted. “You assumed that I was just the grasping kind who was only interested in selling Molly’s cottage for as much as I could get, then scooting off back to London.”
He laughed, and kissed the tip of her nose. “Okay, we’re quits.”
His hand stroked down over her body again, stirring the still-smouldering embers. A warm sigh escaped her lips, and she curved against him, breathing in the subtle male scent of his skin.
“Will Rufus be all right on his own downstairs?” she murmured.
“He’ll be fine. After his adventure, he’ll sleep right through till morning.”
Which implied that Tom would be staying till morning, too. She had no argument with that.
* * *
The café was busy, as usual. Debbie was flitting about serving customers — there seemed to be a brighter light than usual in her eyes. She danced up to Vicky’s table.
“You’re looking like the cat that got the cream,” Vicky teased.
“Am I? Well, yes, I am. Bill asked me to marry him last night.” She did a little shimmy. “And I said yes!”
“Oh, that’s wonderful! Congratulations.”
“Thanks. I haven’t told Amy yet. We’re taking her to the zoo on Sunday, and we’re going to tell her then.”
“She’ll be thrilled,” Vicky assured her.
“I hope so. It’s just been the two of us, and Mum, for a while...”
“She adores Bill.”
“Yes, she does.” She held up her hand, her fingers crossed. “I just hope Alan doesn’t make trouble.”
“Your ex?” Vicky shot her a startled look. “Why would he?”
Debbie bit her lip. “He can sometimes be a bit... awkward.”
Vicky shook her head. “You know what, I’ll bet he takes one look at Bill and decides to back off.”
“Oh, but Bill would never get into a fight,” Debbie protested quickly. “He isn’t the type.”
“I know that and you know that, but I bet Alan wouldn’t want to risk it.”
Debbie laughed. “You’re right. I’ve let him bully me long enough — I’m not going to let him do it anymore.”
“That’s the spirit!”
“Anyway, do you want some of Mum’s coffee cake?”
“Yes, please.”
Debbie went back to the counter, and Vicky fell into gazing out of the window, as she usually did. But her mind wasn’t on the view today. She was replaying every moment of last night, so vividly that she could almost feel the brush of Tom’s mouth over hers, the warmth of his body, the smooth movement of those hard muscles beneath his skin.
She’d woken this morning as he had slipped out of bed and pulled on his clothes.
“I was trying not to wake you.” He’d kissed the tip of her nose. “Go back to sleep.”
Of course — milking. She’d snuggled down under the covers and slept again.
She’d have liked to ask Debbie more about him — his other girlfriends before that Nyree, how many there had been, what they had been like. But she’d feel stupid, probing like that — like some love-struck teenager Bez’s age.
So, what now? Had last night been just a one-night stand, a brief fling? Or might there be a chance of something more?
* * *
The question still lingered in her mind into the evening, distracting her from the chapter she was trying to write. Memories of the night, wrapped up in those strong arms, their naked bodies hot against each other...
Curled up on her new sofa in the sitting room with her notebook, the French windows wide open to let in a soft evening breeze, she closed her eyes, trying to make herself focus on her heroine’s attempts to...
A flurry of excited barking startled her back to the twenty-first century. A small bundle of brown-and-white fur hurtled in through the French windows and scrabbled at her knees.
“Well, hello, you.” She scooped him up onto her lap, laughing as he bounced up to lick her chin. “Have you run away again?”
“No — he just wanted to come over and say thanks for the scrambled eggs.”
Vicky felt her heart thump as Tom came into the room. “Oh, he was more than welcome. He’s looking very well, in spite of his adventure.”
“Dogs usually recover very quickly. I just hope he’s learned his lesson.” Tom strolled over to the sofa and leaned over the back of it to kiss her ear. “What’s this?” he asked, glancing at the notebook.
“Oh . . . um . . . it’s just . . .” She laughed a little unsteadily. “I’m trying to write a book.”
“Oh? What about?”
“It’s... a novel. Set in the time of the Wars of the Roses. I did my degree at university on that period. It’s... kind of a bit of a romance, a bit of a thriller.”
“Sounds good.” He came round to sit beside her. “Can I read it?”
“I... um... it’s not finished yet.” She bent to tickle Rufus’s ear to hide the blush in her cheeks. She had felt as if her writing was a guilty secret. But he hadn’t mocked it, as Jeremy had — he seemed genuinely interested.
He dropped an arm around her shoulders and drew her close. “Bill’s on calf-watching duties tonight, so I’m free and clear. If you can take a break, fancy coming out for a drink?”
“That sounds like fun.”
“Although...” His eyes glinted with unmistakeable intent. “The pub will still be there in an hour or so.”
A mischievous smile spread across her face. “I like your thinking.”
He brushed his lips across hers, and, taking her hand, he drew her to her feet.
Rufus bounced along beside them to the stairs. Tom laughed, shaking his head. “We don’t need company,” he scolded gently, pointing back to the kitchen. “Stay.”
With a sigh of disdain the pup turned his back on them and strolled into the kitchen as if that had always been his plan, and settled himself on the towel that was still beside the range cooker, his head on his paws.
* * *
Vicky and Tom strolled along the beach, their feet crunching on the damp sand. And he was holding her hand. The moon was almost full, tracing a path of shimmering silver across the dark water of the bay. Rufus had been let off his lead and was chasing in and out of the waves, barking like a loon.
She had felt a little awkward walking into the pub with Tom. Maybe she should have thought of that before, and come up with some excuse, but her brain had seemed to seize up. She had been conscious of the interested gazes that had followed her, but everyone had been very friendly.
“My mum and dad are coming home on Monday.”
“Oh, that’ll be nice.” She smiled up at him, a hint of teasing in her eyes. “Have you missed them?”
“The farm’s missed them. I certainly didn’t begrudge them the trip — I’ve been on at them for years to go out for a visit, before they got too old for it to be comfortable, flying all that way. But it’ll be a big help to have him back — we need the extra hands with the girls. And I really need to balance out my time more with my other business.”
“The feed company?”
He glanced down at her, one dark eyebrow raised in question.
She laughed. “Jayde looked you up.”
“Did she then? What did she find out?”
“Not much.” She wasn’t going to tell him that she’d looked him up online herself — that seemed a bit too much like stalking. “There was a bit about you winning an award.”
“Oh yes — last year.” He grinned. “All dressed up in my penguin suit and playing the successful entrepreneur.”
“There was a picture. You looked very smart.”
“I felt like a prat.”
“Oh, go on — you must have been proud. It’s quite an achievement.”
“I suppose.” But the quirk of his lips betrayed that he really was.
“When did you set it up?”
“About six years ago. Our neighbour, Harry, died. His kids had moved away, neither of them were interested in the farm. His fields ran alongside ours and were organic too — we were concerned that if they were taken over by someone who’d convert them out of organic it could affect the quality of ours.”
He stooped and picked up a pebble and hurled it down the beach. Rufus raced after it, though he could have absolutely no idea where it had fallen among all the others. He ran around in circles for a bit, nose to the ground, then forgot about it and raced off into the sea again.
“So you bought them out?”
“It was the obvious thing to do. My grandmother had left me some money, and I got a business loan. It started out just selling the excess feed from Harry’s land, but the market for organic’s increasing. A few more farms wanted to convert too, so I did deals with them to buy their produce, and it just grew from there. Organically.”
Vicky rolled her eyes at the dreadful pun. “How have you been managing to run it and the farm while your dad was away?”
“Ah, the farm always comes first. But depot’s only up the road, on that old industrial estate just past Haytor Avenue. I’ve got a good bloke in charge there for the day-to-day stuff, and I’ve always done a lot of the trading online. But with Dad back it’ll definitely be easier.”
“Have they enjoyed the trip, your mum and dad?”
“It sounds like it.” He laughed dryly. “Dad was a bit envious of Uncle Frank’s spread — it’s measured in square miles, not acres. Makes ours look like a pocket handkerchief. Mind you, then he thought about managing a herd that size and changed his mind.”
“I bet.”
He glanced down at her. “Why don’t you come over to dinner next week?”
She hesitated, startled. “Oh, I . . .”
“Dad remembers you from when you were little. He’d love to see you again. Ollie and Lisa are coming too.”
What to make of that? Come to dinner and meet my family... Wasn’t it a bit too soon? And yet... it wasn’t really like that. She had known his parents when she was a child — and besides, Lisa and Ollie would be there.
“I’d like to see them.” She struggled for a casual tone. “But your mum’ll be tired from the long journey home — she won’t want to be cooking for guests.”
He laughed. “I thought you knew my mother.”
“Well . . . um . . . if you’re sure it’ll be okay . . . I’d like to come.”
“Good.” He slid his arm around her shoulders and turned her against him, and his mouth came down to hers in a long, lingering kiss. She closed her eyes, letting time drift away like the breeze from the sea...
A larger wave skimmed up the sand, soaking their ankles, and Rufus barked in protest, running up to scrabble at Tom’s knees to suggest that it was time to go home.
He bent and tickled the little dog in his favourite spot behind his ear. “Okay, okay — we’re going.” He smiled down at Vicky, that smile that sent her pulse into instant overdrive.
“Are you going to invite me in for coffee?”
Her mouth curved in a flirtatious smile. “Oh, I think so.”