The Forbidden, Page 6

  Quiet.

  I poke the sheets, where I expect her head to be.

  No movement.

  Rolling my eyes, I grab the blanket and yank it back, exposing Lizzy…who is stark naked.

  “Hey!” she yells, reclaiming the blanket and pulling it back.

  “Sorry!” I chuckle. “But it’s nothing I haven’t seen before, and now it’s nothing Micky hasn’t seen before.”

  She arranges the material beneath her chin, peeking at me out of the corner of her eye as she faffs and fiddles, making a long-arse job of it. “Are you mad at me?” she pouts.

  I shake my head, reclining back. How can I be? She’s grieving. “You’re a silly twat.”

  “I know.” Her agreement is easy. “So.” She cocks her head. “What happened?”

  I don’t look at her, afraid she might see the entire illicit encounter in my eyes. “I had a drink with him.”

  “Potential?”

  “No.” I laugh, but it fades as I fall into thought.

  Micky walks in and hands me my giant mug, giving me a look. I shrug and take my coffee as he hands Lizzy hers.

  “Ladies,” he says, trotting back off to the kitchen. I fear the worst when Lizzy’s eyes follow his arse all the way. I can’t blame her. He has a great arse. And back. And stomach. And legs.

  “Then why the tears?” she asks, returning her attention to me.

  “I’m tired,” I mumble. “Hung over, hungry, and in need of caffeine.” I slurp my coffee ravenously, hearing my phone ringing from my room. The thought of engaging my muscles to get up from the couch is enough of a reason to stay put. So I let it ring off. Ten seconds later, Lizzy’s fishing through her purse to find hers. She looks at the screen and tosses it across the couch to me, and I catch Nat’s name glowing threateningly up at me. I look at Lizzy. She looks smug. “I might have mentioned a man when we dropped her home in the cab.”

  Great. “Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask moodily. “Don’t you think she’s gonna want your dirt?” I point to the kitchen and Lizzy dives beneath the blankets again.

  “Hello.” I sound bright and chirpy.

  “Spill it, Ryan. And where the fuck is Lizzy?”

  “Nothing to spill,” I reply robotically, deciding that I’m never going to speak of it again. Never. “I had a drink with him.” That’s it, and when Micky looks through to me and smiles, I know my secret will be safe with him. “And Lizzy stayed on my couch.”

  “With?”

  “No one.” I lie again. I can’t drop Micky in it now. Nat won’t be impressed.

  “Where’s Micky?”

  “Home, I guess.” I’m on a roll, but just when I think I might have got him off the hook and saved him lectures from Nat, he trips on nothing and sends his coffee flying.

  “Bastard!” he yells, jumping around the kitchen. “Motherfucker, that’s fucking hot!”

  I slump on the couch. “Home, you guess?” Nat asks tiredly. “I’m on my way over. Seriously! What the fuck have you lot been up to?”

  “Bring Starbucks!” I yell, just as she hangs up.

  * * *

  We slob out all day. Spread all over my lounge, we watch trash television and eat hangover food. It’s a clean sweep of hurting heads. As I sit on the couch, wedged at the end, my feet dangling over Micky’s shoulders where he’s sitting on the floor below me, I become more and more frustrated by my inability to empty my head of the events from last night. I don’t know how many times I go over it. Over and over, again and again, until I decide I need some air.

  I slip out of my apartment quietly into my courtyard garden, breathing some sense into myself. Or at least trying to. I ponder what time he might have woken up. I wonder what he might have thought. I wonder if he was relieved that I was gone, or whether he was disappointed. The questions drive me positively mad.

  A one-night stand. That’s all. I know how they work. But with a man I’d talked to for half an hour? And in a hotel? And without protection? I must have lost my mind. But something about Jack made it easy to lose. He stripped me of sense. Had me surrendering to him. It’s so unlike me, and what’s more, all this fucking picking things to pieces is unlike me, too.

  I look up to the sky. I left that hotel room for a reason. Problem is, I don’t know what that reason was. I was out of there like a shot, my instinct kicking in and backing me up. It would be easy to accept if there was nothing there for me—no spark, no connection, no chemistry. But there was a spark. There was chemistry. There was a deep, inexplicable connection. And it scared me. It’s the only explanation for me running.

  “Get…a…fucking…grip…woman,” I say slowly, slapping the ball of my palm into my forehead. Leaving before he woke was the best decision. No morning awkwardness. No wondering what comes next. Simple. So why my mind is trying to make this a tattered mess of complication is beyond me.

  I need to stop with this silly obsessing, because no man that gifted and gorgeous can be good for a woman. That’s why I ran.

  I make my way back into my apartment and nip to the loo to check my face, brushing at my cheeks. I still look flushed. Fucked, even. Shaking my head, I go to grab my bag from the bed to get my phone, my searching fingers faltering when I lay my hand on something else. I pull out my hand and stare at the Budweiser bottle top lying in the center of my palm.

  Something to remember him by.

  Last night really will go down in history. My history. It was a night to remember, and I’m sad that that’s now all I have to remember him by. Memories. And a bottle cap.

  Chapter 5

  The week has flown by, work swallowing up all my time, but I’ve managed to catch up with Micky for lunch, and Lizzy for dinner. Micky was how I expected him to be: blasé about the weekend’s events between him and Lizzy. I met Lizzy the next day hoping to find the same reaction. She rolled her eyes at the mention of it, her regret clear. “Trust me, it was a mindless screw with a mate,” she’d said. “I’ve already forgotten about it.”

  I wish I could convince myself to do the same about Jack. Forget about it. But his damn face just keeps popping into my mind, along with every other gorgeous piece of him. It’s like he’s branded himself on my brain. I’m being tormented daily by him and memories of that night—a night that I have no hope of forgetting. Reliving it all is both frustrating and thrilling. My body still aches, now more deliciously, rather than the initial deep wince-worthy ache. Soon, all physical evidence of my encounter with Jack will be gone. Yet I know the memories will still be as fresh as they were the next morning. It’s Friday, for God’s sake! Nearly a whole week. When will he fuck off out of my head?

  “I love this,” Colin Pine says, looking over the revised drawing of the front elevation of his new gallery. He’s a studious man, his life revolving around art, creating it, and filling his creative mind with as much information as he can get. His nose is constantly buried in some kind of textbook, magazine, or cultural article. “And you think the planning department will pass it?” he asks, looking at me as he pushes his spectacles up his nose.

  I put my coffee down and smile. “The regulations stipulate the frontage being in keeping with the street and area.” I point to the drawing and to the sash windows. “We’re not really changing all that much on the front, and given the building is currently derelict, anything is an improvement.”

  Colin laughs. “You’d think the council would be thankful someone is finally renovating the place, instead of enforcing their red tape. It’s an eyesore.”

  “I agree, and that’s probably why they’ve passed these plans.”

  He looks at me, shocked. “They’ve passed them?”

  I smile. “After the two rejected submissions, I went to the offices to pin down the planning officer. These right here are a yes.”

  “Finally!” he chants, clapping his hands.

  “And this roof in the back will be what sets it apart from all the other galleries.”

  “I agree.” He sighs, shaking his
head in despair. “But the cost, Annie.”

  I smile to myself. I knew the potential cost would be an issue. Which is why I’ve been digging. “I have a proposal.”

  “Which is what?”

  “I know of these guys based in France, and I made a quick call. They have estimated roughly half the price of the British manufacturer, keeping us right on track with the budget.” My excitement is hardly containable. “My only concern is getting it from France to Dover intact.”

  “A good haulage firm will do the job, right?”

  “I hope so, because if it’s damaged when it arrives on site, the schedule will go down the pan and your contractors won’t be happy about it. Neither will you, I expect, since we’re working to a tight schedule for your launch evening.”

  “But half the price?”

  “Subject to final measurements, which I’m sure are quite accurate. So yes.”

  “Then it’s a no-brainer.”

  “Fabulous!”

  Colin stands and collects his briefcase. “I’ll leave it in your capable hands, Annie. Just let me know what you need and when. And I could do with a copy of those drawings to send to my contractors so they can give me a final quote. It’ll be helpful if you give me the details of this French company, too, so they can liaise with them.”

  “I’ll sort it this evening.”

  “Or you could just bring them along to the meeting on Monday morning? I’m due at the auction house at ten, so what do you say we meet at the bistro around the corner at nine-thirty?”

  “Sure.” Gathering up my things, I offer my hand and receive a solid shake. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, then?”

  Colin frowns. “What’s happening tomorrow night?”

  “I invited you to my housewarming?” I smile, throwing my bag over my shoulder. “But don’t worry if you’ve forgotten.”

  “Damn, I have a dinner arrangement with the contractor who’ll be undertaking the works here.” He thumbs over his shoulder. “Something informal before we kick things off on Monday at the meeting. I’ll sneak away as soon as I can.”

  “Hey, bring them along. I can do informal before Monday, too.”

  “Yes, that’s a great idea!”

  “That’s sorted, then. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I smile and get on my way.

  * * *

  Bringing the tablespoon to my lips, I slurp the concoction loudly and roll the liquid around my mouth. “More rum,” I declare to myself, tipping the bottle over the bowl and stirring it up as it glugs out. I lift the spoon and slurp again, this time wincing. Strong. Perfect! I transfer the bowl of punch onto the big table and lick at my sticky fingers before collecting glasses from the cupboard and lining them up for easy access. I want everything in sight so I don’t have to be running around all night playing hostess at my housewarming. I want to enjoy myself and get drunk enough to stamp out the lingering memories of Jack. I need tonight—my friends, alcohol, and some laughs. There’s a knock on the door and I run to let the gang in, but when I swing it open, I find only Lizzy. No one else, just Lizzy. “Where’s everyone?”

  “On their way.” She pushes her way in and heads for the kitchen. “I wanted to talk to you before they all get here.”

  “Why? What’s up?” Has something happened with Jason? I follow her and crack open a bottle of wine, pouring us both a glass.

  “You, Annie. You are what’s up! You’ve been weird this week. Quiet. What gives?”

  I clam up, my eyes darting. I can’t deny I’ve been off sorts. Even Micky passed comment at lunch, and when I responded to Nat’s text message with a one-word answer yesterday, she was on the phone asking me what’s up, too. “My head is full, that’s all,” I say lamely, taking some wine.

  “Of what?” Lizzy sounds suspicious and curious. I like neither.

  “Work. Things to do around this place.”

  “Bollocks,” she spits, insulted. “You’ve not been the same since Saturday night. What happened? And please don’t insult me by saying it was just a pleasant drink.”

  “It was a pleasant drink,” I mumble on a shrug.

  “Annie!”

  “Okay!” I slam my glass down in frustration. “I fucked him. Or he fucked me. It was unbelievably good. He was unbelievably good, but aside from his capabilities, there was…” I fade off, a string of shocked gasps coming from my friend. “Something.”

  “‘Something’?” she asks quietly. “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know,” I grate, reclaiming my wine and taking a long slug. “Chemistry. A connection. Something I haven’t experienced before.”

  “Oh shit,” she breathes.

  “That doesn’t help.”

  “I can’t believe you kept this from me, Annie!”

  “Well, with you and Jason—”

  “Bollocks to me and Jason. He’s a cheating dick. How was it left? Did you give him your number? Arrange a date?”

  I cringe all over my kitchen. “I snuck out when he was asleep.”

  “What?” Lizzy screeches, slamming her own glass down. “Are you fucking shitting me?”

  “No. I wish I was.” I surprise myself with my willing answer, and the fact that, yes, I regret walking out and leaving no line of possible contact. “I can’t stop thinking about him, Lizzy. It’s driving me fucking loopy!”

  “Wow. That good, huh?”

  I collapse to my arse on a chair, exhausted after my confession. “It’s crazy, isn’t it?” I wonder for the millionth time whether Jack has thought about me. I want to believe he’s as tummy-tied as I am, reliving the night, obsessing about the connection we had and what it might mean.

  “Have you looked him up?”

  I laugh. “I’ve hardly got much to go on. His name’s Jack and…well, his name’s Jack.”

  “Do you want to find him?”

  Now, that’s the operative question. Right now it’s all in my head. Safe and secure in my mind, where I can relive the perfection day and night forever…even if it’s slowly driving me mad. I shouldn’t do anything stupid, like risk ruining that. Like finding him and discovering that he’s actually a dick. Like realizing that drink clouded my judgment. Like discovering that he is nothing like I remember. But what if he is? What if the sparks fly again and the constant butterflies in my tummy erupt?

  Lizzy stands up and my eyes rise with her, until I find her face. She’s smiling knowingly. “Tonight we get pissed. Tomorrow we hit Google and see if we can find the man who’s knocked my mate’s knees bandy.”

  Screw it. He’s clearly not going to fuck off out of my head. “Fine.” I head for the door when I hear the doorbell ring, answering to Micky, Nat, and a scattering of more people behind them. They all wave bottles at me, their tickets for entry. I laugh, swing the door wide open, and let them all trample through my apartment as they sing their hellos. Just as Nat passes, I snatch her elbow. “Where’s John?” I ask, doing another quick check of the sea of heads to make sure I’ve not missed him.

  “He’s not here.”

  “Oh?” I release her arm when she shakes off her light blazer.

  “Annie, I’m just not made to deal with kids.” She rolls her eyes. “And bubble gum. I owe it to my hair to make a stand.”

  I give her a sympathetic face to hide my own eye roll. “There’s a bottle open in the fridge.”

  “Fab!” She’s off down the hall quickly. “Now we’re all single!” she sings, crashing into the kitchen and demanding alcohol. I smile and follow her, letting Lizzy kiss me on the cheek as I pass her.

  “Okay?” she asks tentatively, wiping away the pink lipstick she’s just smeared on my cheek.

  “Perfect.” I chink our glasses and throw back the first of many wines.

  * * *

  An hour later, Micky is playing DJ and everyone is shouting requests at him. The drink is flowing and the chatter is lively, laughter filling my new home. I smile as I stand in the courtyard watching all of my friends mingle and drink. Nat comes from the kitchen, h
er eyes scanning the crowd. She spots me and waves an arm in the air. “More guests at the door!” she calls, pointing through the kitchen to the hallway before she makes a beeline for Micky, delighted at the sight of shots.