Chapter 12 #3
Someone she didn’t know and would probably never again meet slapped her on the shoulders.
“That was great. Amazing.”
She could feel their delight and approval. It was like a drug. It made her whole body buzz. “They liked what I played.”
“Why so surprised?”
“People don’t usually—I’m not used to—” It was dizzying, hearing people applaud and whoop loudly as a gesture of appreciation
for something she’d done.
“Is that your first time playing in public?”
“No. I played in concert halls when I was younger.”
“And nobody clapped?”
“Yes, they clapped, but in that setting everything is more restrained, even the applause.” And that summed up her life, didn’t it? Restrained. Careful. No excess. No wild moments of passion. “It’s my first time playing in a pub. They’re easy to please.”
“Don’t kid yourself. This is the toughest audience you could ever have.” He was smiling at her but that was because he didn’t
understand. He didn’t understand that praise and approval were so rare in her life that when it came she didn’t even believe
it.
She glanced around and realised the place was packed, to the point that there was barely space between people. “Is it always
this busy?”
“No. People heard you playing and came in from the street. We’ve made more money since you started playing than we have for
the whole of the last month. People are dancing and dancing makes them thirsty. When they’re thirsty, they drink. What do
I owe you?”
“Owe me?” She frowned. “Nothing. I was doing a favour for a friend.” And she was wondering if he wasn’t the one who had done
her a favour.
When had she last enjoyed an evening this much?
She was having fun. So much fun that she was wondering why she’d stopped playing the piano. Why wasn’t she doing this every
day?
And she realised that the reason she hardly ever touched the piano now was because there was no purpose. No concert to rehearse
for. No reason to play it. She never thought to play for her own enjoyment. To please herself.
There was something in his eyes. Something warmer. Something unsettling.
Something that made her think he could read her mind.
“I don’t know what’s happening to you,” he said, “but I like it. And the friend thanks you. Drink your wine. I brought you
a fresh glass when you were playing.”
She’d forgotten about the wine. “I don’t usually—”
“I know. But you’ve already broken your one-glass rule, so a third one won’t count. Billy is going to take a turn on the piano so you can dance. He’s not in your league when it comes to playing, but he’ll do.”
“Dance? I don’t—”
“If you’re about to tell me you don’t usually dance don’t bother.” He dragged her to her feet and it was so unexpected that
she couldn’t find her balance and had to grab him to steady herself.
She was dimly aware of Billy taking her place at the piano with a happy grin and then Tristan slipped his arm around her waist,
told the crowd to move aside and proceeded to twirl her to the rhythm of the music.
The rest of the evening was a blur of music, more piano playing and probably another glass of wine although at some point
she’d lost track.
When Tristan suggested they step outside for a breath of fresh air she was reluctant. She wanted the evening to last forever.
She felt like a different person. A better person. The person she was supposed to be?
“Let’s go to the beach!” She grabbed Tristan’s hand and tugged him along. It was late now and the narrow labyrinth of streets
that wound their way to the harbour was quiet and mostly free of tourists.
“Er—now? It’s dark.”
“All the better for what I have in mind.”
“Now I’m intrigued.”
She followed the path that led from the harbour and then fell away gently down to a small local beach. During the day at low
tide it was crowded with families with toddlers but now it was empty and the only sounds were the gentle rush of the ocean
as it hit the sand.
“Is the tide going to come in and drown us?”
“Not for another few hours.”
“That gives us time.”
She tugged off her shoes and felt the cool sand under her feet.
“Time for what? You haven’t told me what you have in mind, but if it’s swimming I’m going to stop you.”
“It’s not swimming.” Everything was a little hazy. A little blurry. His face, her feelings, their surroundings. “I’m going
to kiss you. Because that’s another thing I don’t do.”
“You don’t kiss men?”
“I don’t kiss men I don’t know well. I definitely don’t kiss men who don’t like me.”
“Who said I didn’t like you?”
She undid the shirt that she’d knotted at her waist when she’d started playing. “You took a dislike to me the moment I walked
through the door.”
“I’m liking you a lot more after this evening.”
“Because I’m drunk?”
“No. Because you’re finally human. I’m seeing the real you. No more robot girl.”
“Robot girl?”
“No emotions.”
Was that what he thought? Well, she probably couldn’t blame him for that. It was how she felt a lot of the time. She was someone
who behaved the way she was expected to. The way she was programmed to.
Except not tonight.
“Just because I don’t show my emotions doesn’t mean I don’t feel them.”
“Is that right?”
“It is right—” she might have slurred her words a little “—and I’m going to prove it to you.”
“Okay.” He stood still, legs spread, solid and strong which was a good thing because she needed someone to lean on. “Prove it.”
She put her hands on his shoulders. Felt the hard swell of muscle under her fingers and the slow heat spread through her body.
“I have never kissed someone after three glasses of wine before.”
“It’s here—” he pointed to his mouth “—in case you need help orientating yourself.”
“I don’t need any help.” She rose on her toes and brushed her lips against his, gently at first, exploring the shape and taste
of him. Then he slanted his mouth over hers and excitement rushed over her.
She felt his hands slide down her back and wrap around her, hauling her close. Desire slammed into her, the intensity of it
almost knocking her off her feet, but he held her firmly, his hands steadying her against the force they created together.
Her mind emptied and all she could do was feel. The gentle skim of his fingers over her skin, the erotic slide of his tongue,
the heat of her own body.
When she finally eased her mouth from his her breathing was shallow and so was his.
They stared at each other for a long moment, both acknowledging the unexpected.
The next step seemed entirely natural to her and she stripped off her shirt and let it drop to the sand.
His gaze slid from her face to the swell of her breasts pressing against her lace bra.
“Abby—”
“I’ve never done a striptease on a beach before.” She dropped her hands to the button at the front of her jeans. “And I’ve
never had a one-night stand.”
“That’s a lot of first times for one evening, maybe we should—”
“You have far too many clothes on.” She started to unbutton his shirt, but his hands closed over hers.
“No.” His voice was roughened. “Not now. Not like this.”
“You prefer to go back to the pub?” She wasn’t sure she could make it that far. Her whole body was alive and on fire. She
was pretty sure his was, too. “Is it the sand?”
“No, it’s being in a public place. I’d rather not be arrested. I’d never hear the last of it. And also having sex with a woman
who has had three large glasses of wine and feeling the effects would be a first for me, and it isn’t happening.”
“You think I’m feeling the effects?”
“Could you stand up if I wasn’t holding you?”
“Let’s find out—” She eased away from him and swayed a little. “That’s because I’m being blown by the breeze.”
“There is no breeze. It’s a still night.”
It certainly wasn’t still inside her head. It felt as if there was a party going on. Every brain cell was dancing.
“Maybe a swim would sober me up.”
“I think it’s more likely that you’d drown.”
The world was going in and out of focus. “I’m a good swimmer. When I do something, I do it really well.”
“I can believe that.” He sighed. “You should get dressed, before we both do something really well and then regret it afterwards.”
Jaw clenched, he retrieved her shirt and helped her to put it back on, his movements unsteady and uncoordinated.
She’d imagined him undressing her, not dressing her. She’d imagined his hands on her skin, stroking and seeking, not fumbling
with buttons.
She couldn’t understand why he was rejecting her but it all felt frustrating and unfair.
“I know exactly what I’m doing.”
“Yeah, right, well we can talk about that another time.”
“I’ll have you know I’m a very controlled person. And careful about my choices.” She peered at him. “You look tense. Are you tense?”
“Could you button your shirt please?”
She frowned. “Why? Is that another of your tests? If I can stand on one leg, close one eye and button my shirt I’m sober enough
for you to have sex with me?”
“No test. I think it would be a good idea, that’s all.” With a rough curse he reached out and buttoned her shirt himself and
when he’d finished he snatched his hands away as if he’d scalded the tips of his fingers.
She was hurt and a little humiliated and even the wine couldn’t entirely numb those feelings.
“Okay, I get it. You don’t want me. But I’m not ready to go back yet. It’s beautiful out here. You go if you like. I want
to stay here for a while.” She stared out at the inky blackness of the ocean. “It’s beautiful. Isn’t it beautiful?”
“Yes, it’s a picture. I think we should go back now.”
“Why?”
“I think maybe you should go to bed and prepare yourself for your first hangover.” He gave a faint smile. “It’s not going
to be pretty.”
“I don’t care. That’s future me’s problem.”
“Future you had better have strong painkillers ready for the morning.”
The morning. A new day. “What time is it in Boston?”
“Now? I have no idea. Why?”
“I’m going to call my mother.”
“Is that a good idea?” He frowned. “Not that it’s my place to dictate what you do, but in my experience phone calls after