Chapter 12
12
Monica’s kitchen intimidates me, which was probably her brief to the designer. It’s a smooth sea of gleaming white perfection, untainted by handles. Opening cupboards is like hunting for a secret passage, pressing and tapping until something springs open. And you can guarantee, whatever it is, it won’t be what you were hoping for. After spending forever trying to put away glassware and finding refrigerated drawers, which I didn’t even know were a thing, and failing to find the recycling and the dishwasher, I give up. So, as I wash, wet champagne flutes are stacking up around me into a fragile prison.
I hear the door swing closed and then it’s Tony’s voice I hear. ‘How’s this your job?’
I twist round, hands still in the sink. ‘I don’t mind. Better than small talk anyway.’
Tony leans against the marble breakfast bar and looks up at the ceiling, eyelids droopy in a play of exhaustion. ‘Yeah, I know what you mean. I slunk in here for a bit of a break from putting on the Tony Garratt show.’
I like that he can see the split between who he is and the public persona. But it’s not my business so I make my voice jokey. ‘I got the impression collectibles weren’t quite your thing.’
He grimaces. ‘I’m an adult man, so yeah, that’s a reasonable assumption. I notice you made a pretty quick exit and all.’
I smile. ‘I can’t say I’ve ever seen their appeal, but then, I’m an adult woman.’
He nods and begins to lounge over. ‘Exactly. Why would I wanna stand around looking at old junk? ’Specially when there’s a woman like you next door.’
I don’t know what to say to that. He sounds like he does when it’s banter to fritter away a few minutes after training, but his face is different. He’s looking at me the way he studies the set-up before he takes a free kick, weighing up his options. I can still hear the chatter from the party, but it seems a long way off. For a split second, I think he’s planning to kiss me. My heart starts bounding like Roudie after a rabbit. But realistically, a kiss is unlikely, and the last thing I want is to look like I’m expecting one. So, I just stand there, waiting, and when he’s a step or two away, Tony stops. There’s the same frustrated smile as when he realizes there’s nothing on and he’ll have to make a back pass, just to retain possession. Instead of coming any closer, he turns and begins prodding at the kitchen cupboards.
‘Is there no way to open these?’ There’s an edge to his voice. It’s understandable, the kitchen does seem deliberately infuriating.
‘You have to tap the top right corner then push up.’ I sound artificial, I’m so keen to hide my disappointment about the lack of a kiss, even though I know I’m being ridiculous.
‘Surprised they don’t need a password or nothing.’ When Tony turns round, holding a pile of tea towels, he’s at least back to smiling. ‘It’s all right. Found ’em.’
He rolls his sleeves a little higher. I doubt that’s good for what is obviously an extremely expensive shirt, any more than it’s going to help me hold back from ogling him. Because now I’m dying to run my fingers along the vein cutting across the crook of his elbow, prominent against the muscle of his forearm.
He walks across to me, reaches for a glass and begins to dry. And I have got to get rid of him. There’s no way I can keep pretending, with Tony half a step away, that I’m not dangerously close to hyperventilating, I’m so desperate for him. I try, ‘I think this is a bit beneath your paygrade.’
He shrugs. ‘And yours. Or it should be, anyhow.’
‘Sadly, it’s not. And Tony, seriously, please leave it. You’re here for the sponsors, not to help out in Hospitality.’
‘Like I said, I’m bored with that.’ He looks at me, his eyes as hard as his voice has become. Then he smiles, closed-lipped and not particularly friendly. ‘Look, Genie, I can take no for an answer, all right. So, if you want to, just tell me to fuck off and I’ll leave you alone, OK?’
Before I can stop myself, I hear my voice saying, ‘That’s not what I want.’
‘Yeah, I’d been thinking maybe it weren’t.’ I’m expecting him to look amused or self-satisfied, but his face is puzzled. Then there’s one of his click-of-your-fingers quick changes in expression and he’s grinning at me. ‘Which is good, cos I get you was only playing along in there, but when I was saying how fine you looked, I meant it.’
Obviously, that’s nice to hear. Except, I know if I looked at his contacts, at least half the numbers would belong to gorgeous women ready to drop everything any time Tony calls. But honestly, that’s not what’s holding me back from grabbing Tony’s hand and running off to find the nearest room with a lockable door. It’s that I don’t look remotely like those women, and I couldn’t bear to see his face when he realizes just how big the difference is. Because there’s no use pretending that wouldn’t happen the minute he got my clothes off.
But it’s not like I can say that to him, or not without sounding tediously insecure, so I opt for shrugging off the compliment. ‘You should tell Skylar and Katia, they’re responsible for the outfit.’
His smile is very cat who got the cream. ‘Felt the boss had someone to dress up for, did they?’
He’s right about Sky, but I’m not going to admit it. And he wouldn’t understand how badly it would hurt Katia’s heart to leave this dress trapped in the wardrobe. So, I settle for, ‘No, Skylar’s always nagging me about dressing too old. She caught me at a weak moment tonight. This is the result.’
‘And very nice it is too.’ Tony pauses, seemingly pondering something of vital importance to world peace, then shakes his head. ‘But she’s wrong. It’s not that your clothes are too old normally, it’s that they’re too dressed up. Like you’re all look don’t touch?’
I bite my lip. It’s a recurring theme in this conversation, me not knowing what to say.
Tony’s still earnestly intense when he adds, ‘Like you go for a lot of stuff that’s fitted, so it does show off your body. But the fabric, it’s like holding you in– not letting you relax.’ I’m just about to say something huffily offended when he laughs. ‘You know what, though? I’m an idiot for telling you that, cos I’m dead into the whole sexy-teacher thing.’
I make my mouth prim. ‘I can’t imagine why. You must’ve been a terrible student.’
He grins. ‘Yeah, I weren’t the most attentive, but I’d have been well up for a bit of extra tuition from Miss Edwards, I can tell you.’
His face is so exaggeratedly lascivious, I can’t help laughing.
‘So, don’t you go chucking out them tight skirts, or the heels, cos I reckon I can find a use for ’em. Only your role-playing had better be more convincing than your good-girl act.’
I raise my eyebrows. ‘Who says it’s an act?’
There’s a snort of laughter. ‘Just like everything ’bout you. How you move, your smile, the way you laugh.’ He steps back and takes a long look at my stilettoes. ‘Plus, first afternoon we spent together, you let me in on where you like to wear them heels, and that’s been playing on my mind ever since.’ His face becomes mock-serious. ‘Not to worry, though. I’m up for a bit of role reversal, if you’re needing a few acting lessons.’
I almost break the glass in my hand, I’m gripping it so hard. But I manage to make my voice more teasing than breathily full of longing. ‘I wasn’t aware acting ability was high on your list of requirements.’
I might’ve gone too far. Tony’s extensive back catalogue of ex-girlfriends and one-night stands include several contenders for world’s least talented actress. Thankfully, he absolutely roars with laughter. ‘Yeah, only it might not’ve been their acting I was focused on. But my standards have gone up a fair bit lately.’
Angharad is certainly convincing when she’s telling us that this make-up or that supplement will solve all our problems, so perhaps that’s true. But I’m not sure that counts as acting, so I make ‘Really?’ coolly enquiring.
Tony softens his smile, so presumably, we’re not on the same page. ‘Yeah, really.’ He reaches for another glass, and it’s not until he’s done drying it that he asks, ‘Is that why you turned me down? All the stuff in the press?’
‘When?’
‘When what?’
‘When did I turn you down?’
‘Like pretty much every day.’
‘But that’s never serious.’ My hands are still in the sink but I’m looking at Tony directly and his face is every bit as confused as I feel.
He shakes his head. ‘Not all of it. But I asked you to dinner, remember?’
‘That was just a thank you.’
He shrugs. ‘Not from my perspective it weren’t. But if you didn’t see it that way, I’m asking you for real now. How ’bout coming out with me some time?’ He watches my face intently.
For half a second, I almost say yes, let’s go now, this minute. But then it floods back, that there’s no way I’ll live up to what he’s used to. That, and all the other things that make getting involved with Tony a spectacularly bad idea. So, even if my voice isn’t as firm as it should be, I manage, ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t.’
He sighs and takes a step away. ‘All right, I’ll leave it. ’Cept can you stop being polite and just tell me it’s not what you want? Not you can’t or you shouldn’t, or whatever. Cos I dunno, maybe I’ve got it all wrong, but I’m getting seriously mixed signals.’
I shouldn’t complain, Tony’s dog-with-a-bone impression is a big part of why he can single-handedly keep three defenders fully occupied. But it also means, for a man who claims he can take no for an answer, he’s remarkably hard to deflect.
I try looking not quite into his eyes because that’s too distracting, but close enough that it should mimic eye contact. ‘Except, Tony, I’m not being polite. I would like to. Very much, actually.’ That should sound convincing, because it’s one hundred per cent true. The next bit is true if incomplete, so hopefully he’ll accept that too. ‘But I’ve told you before, the staff contracts have a no fraternization clause, and I like my job.’
He smiles gently. ‘And you’re pretty good at it and all.’ The smile gets turned up several watts. ‘But someone’s got to find out, for that to be a problem, haven’t they?’
‘I suppose, but it’s not easy, keeping things quiet around here.’ I tilt my head at Monica’s discreet home security system.
Tony grins. ‘I dunno. Maybe you didn’t spend enough time snogging behind the bike sheds as a kid.’
‘I went to an all-girls school,’ I grin.
‘Then I wanna hear all about you snogging behind the bike sheds. Like, for starters, did the uniform involve knee-high socks?’
I hit him with a spare tea towel. ‘It did not, no.’
He grabs the towel with one hand and my wrist with the other. ‘Pity.’
His voice is close to a laugh, but both of us are leaning in, our faces close and the towel pulled taut between us. And that’s not the only connection. His eyes are locked with mine, and I think my smile is the same as his, lips parted, half jokey, half hungry. I can’t stop myself from waiting for the kiss that feels like it’s got to be coming. Instead, Tony glances at the tiny camera tucked above the door, then pulls my hand below the rim of the brushed steel sink. His fingers relax, just enough that his dry thumb can caress the soapy skin on the inside of my wrist.
‘You should be wearing gloves for this, beauty. You don’t wanna go spoiling them lovely hands.’
He doesn’t sound like he’s teasing any more. Suddenly, his closeness is so claustrophobic, I wrench my hand away.
Before either of us can say anything, Skylar’s voice comes from the doorway. ‘Sorry, Tony, Monica’s looking for you.’
Nothing in her face suggests she saw anything more than two people innocently washing up, but I’ve seen Sky play poker, so that doesn’t mean much. Tony must be just as good at cards. Because he turns to her, pulling a face and complaining about having to go back to the party. No one would believe a minute before, there’d been enough sexual tension fizzing to fill every one of the champagne glasses lined up on the snow-white countertop.