Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Pippa pushed through the crowd, weaving between clusters of whispering spectators. The air was thick with murmurs, some people gushing about Horace’s interview, others gleefully rehashing Sebastian’s dramatic interruption like it was the juiciest soap-opera twist in years.
Theo disappeared into a room at the back of the stage and, before she could change her mind, Pippa followed him.
He spun around, his eyes thunderous, cheeks flushed as he pulled at his tie to loosen it, then raked his hand through his hair.
‘How could you do that to me? To Horace?’ His voice was low, shaking with the effort to stay controlled, which somehow made it worse than shouting.
‘What did you think that was going to achieve?’
Pippa held her hands up, palms open. ‘Okay, first of all, I didn’t do anything. You’ve got to believe me when I say this had nothing to do with me. I didn’t know Sebastian was going to pull … whatever that was.’
Theo let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh. ‘And I’m supposed to believe that? He even had his arm around you.’
‘He had his arm around my chair,’ she shot back.
‘Trust me, I didn’t choose to sit next to him.
’ Pippa’s heart hammered. She took a breath and hoped she sounded steadier than she felt.
‘I did see him pass a note to one of the journalists this morning, but I couldn’t tell you what that was about so I didn’t mention it.
’ She continued, softer now, ‘I didn’t know he was going to ambush the interview.
I didn’t know he was going to deliver … that dramatic villain monologue he gave. ’
Theo’s face reddened. ‘He humiliated Horace.’
‘I know.’ Her voice wobbled, but she didn’t look away. ‘I would never, ever willingly be part of something like that. I couldn’t do that to you, and I couldn’t do that to Horace. The man is my hero, Theo!’
His eyes held her gaze and for a moment, neither of them spoke. Finally, Pippa broke the silence. ‘Please, Theo. If you’re going to be furious with someone, let it be with him. Not me.’
His gaze softened just a fraction.
‘For what it’s worth, you handled it well.’
‘I didn’t expect him to go for the jugular like that. Not here. Why would he do that?’
‘I’ve no idea, but there’s definitely more to this.’
‘I need to get out of here before the press swarm in with questions. I need a breather.’ He pointed to the window. ‘Are you coming?’
‘Are you suggesting we climb through the window?’
‘That’s exactly what I’m suggesting.’
There was a moment where Pippa simply stared at him – the famous, sensible, buttoned-up doctor of horology – and then she burst out laughing.
‘We can’t climb out of the window. Have you lost the plot?’
‘We can,’ he said, already dragging a nearby chair across the floor. ‘Door equals questions and microphones. Window equals freedom and a cup of tea back at the cottage. The choice is obvious.’
‘You’re deranged,’ she said, shaking her head but smiling. ‘It’s absolutely chucking it down and right underneath this window is a soggy flower bed and what looks like a prickly bush.’
Theo positioned the chair beneath the wide sash window and tested its wobbliness with the seriousness of a man conducting a scientific experiment. ‘Right. After you.’
‘Me?’ she squeaked. ‘Why me first?’
‘Because if I go first you’ll chicken out and I’ll have to drag you through it.’ His eyes flickered, teasing. ‘And I know the last thing you’d want is to be wrapped in my arms.’
Oh. That made her heart do an entirely unreasonable little cartwheel.
‘Fine. But if I break my ankle, I’m suing.’
‘Noted.’
She rolled her eyes and hoisted herself onto the chair.
It wobbled, and she grabbed his shoulder for balance.
His hands came up instinctively, steadying her waist. Warm, firm, strong.
Too strong. Why did his hands have to feel like that?
This was a crisis! There should be rules about men having unnecessarily good forearms during times of emotional vulnerability.
She lifted the window and rain sprayed through the opening almost immediately. ‘We are going to get soaked.’
‘Ready?’ he asked, voice lower, closer.
No. Absolutely not. But she nodded anyway. She shoved her bag out of the window, rain immediately plastering her hair to her face, and then swung one leg out, then the other. She hadn’t put her raincoat back on after the interview, a decision she regretted instantly.
Instead of stepping gracefully down, she half-slipped, half-launched herself through the window, and gravity, aided enthusiastically by the universe, did the rest. She landed squarely in the flower bed, feet sinking straight into cold, sucking mud that splattered up her jeans, making a very clear case for never doing anything that Theo Blake suggested ever again.
She gave a muffled whumpf and then – silence.
She fell backwards.
‘Pippa?’ came Theo’s strangled voice from above, his tone somewhere in between concern and possibly amusement. ‘Are you alive?’
She flailed an arm dramatically. ‘I think I’m okay.
’ Then she realised she was lying perfectly flat, arms and legs spread out like a starfish, and she started laughing.
Soft at first, then uncontrollably. Rain soaked straight through her T-shirt, yet she didn’t move.
She felt ridiculous and joyful and very much alive.
Theo leaned out of the window, hair flopping messily, his expression somewhere between horrified and desperately trying not to laugh. ‘You look like you’ve been dropped from a great height.’
‘I’m making a mud angel,’ she corrected, dragging her arms and legs exaggeratedly through the flower bed. ‘It’s artistic.’
He tried to suppress a smile. ‘Move over.’
‘What?’
He was already climbing out, far less gracefully than expected, his tie flapping, his jacket catching on the window frame.
He rolled out of the window like Mr Blobby trying to play James Bond in a school nativity play, and landed next to her with a wet thud, sinking straight into the churned-up mud with a grunt.
‘Oh, brilliant,’ he muttered. ‘Very dignified. Exactly the professional image I strive for.’
She giggled. ‘Now you have to make one.’
‘Are you for real? In this suit? Absolutely not.’ He sat up.
She wiggled again, sending flecks of mud flying. ‘Come on. Enjoy the moment. When did you ever think you’d be lying in a muddy flower bed next to me after running from the paparazzi?’ She flicked a bit of mud at him.
‘Never!’
‘There you go. You never know what’s around the corner.’
He let out a defeated breath, then, with great reluctance and a dramatic sigh, flopped back into the wet flower bed beside her, limbs sticking out stiffly.
Pippa snorted. ‘You look like a terrified starfish.’
‘I feel like a terrified starfish.’
‘Now move your arms and legs.’
‘I refuse.’
‘The press could come out any second,’ she whispered. ‘Imagine the headlines.’
Theo groaned, but he moved his arms and legs in tiny, deeply unenthusiastic motions.
‘There,’ he said, deadpan. ‘I’ve ruined my academic reputation forever.’
She turned her head. Their noses were inches apart.
‘Look at the state of me,’ he muttered as Pippa’s eyes swept over his body. Then their eyes locked.
‘I’m looking,’ she replied, biting her lip with a glint in her eye.
Theo looked down at his shirt, then his gaze swept down her T-shirt, her wet top clinging to her breasts. As their eyes met again, they just stared at each other. Everything about him was so damn perfect.
‘You know,’ she murmured, ‘escaping through windows suits you.’
‘I blame you entirely,’ he said softly.
‘It was your idea.’
Neither of them moved, and for a suspended, fragile second, she wondered if he might lean in for a kiss…
Which was ridiculous, of course! He was a married man, and she was here to re-evaluate her life, not cause further complications.
But still, for that one moment, she found herself actually wondering what it would be like to kiss Theo Blake.
Then they heard voices from around the side of the building.
‘Theo must have slipped out without anyone noticing.’ It was Dr Miriam’s voice, and it was getting closer. ‘The press want to speak to him.’
‘Quick,’ Theo urged, shooting upright and pulling Pippa to her feet. ‘We need to go!’
His hand wrapped around hers without hesitation, and before she could formulate any more forbidden thoughts about almost-kisses and doctors with inconveniently soft eyes, he tugged her into a half-run round the front of the building.
‘Slow down!’ she laughed, splashing in every puddle as she tried to keep up.
‘We can’t!’
Pippa tripped and wobbled, and Theo tightened his grip, pulling her closer. They stumbled again, laughter bubbling up between them in ragged, breathless bursts. It shouldn’t have been funny. It should have been awkward and stressful and undignified. But she couldn’t stop grinning.
They reached the top of Lighthouse Lane and slowed by a rain-soaked hedge outside the prettiest row of rainbow cottages that Pippa had ever seen. Her chest was heaving as she glanced behind her.
‘Do you think they saw us?’ Theo murmured.
Pippa shook her head. ‘Unless Miriam’s suddenly developed heat-vision eyes like Superman, I think we’re safe.’
Theo let out a breath and leaned his forehead briefly against hers, not thinking, not planning, just …
doing. He was so close she could see rain caught in his lashes.
So close she could feel his breath warm her cheek despite the damp air.
Her heart pounded and she quickly moved away.
He blinked, realised what he’d done, and straightened so fast he nearly fell backwards into the hedge.
‘Good! We escaped. Mission accomplished.’
‘Minimal chaos,’ she replied, though her pulse was doing gymnastics. ‘Just a dignified exit through a window into a rain-soaked flower bed.’
‘Very dignified,’ he agreed. ‘I especially enjoyed the part where you fell backwards like a startled puffin.’