A Whirlwind Marriage (11 page)

‘They…the Polinkskis might be watching,’ she stammered jerkily. ‘They know I’m separated and they might…might think—’

‘And they might think you’re a scarlet woman with a secret lover?’ he teased drily, but with a gentleness that made her sigh with relief that she hadn’t offended him.

‘You never know,’ she said with unintentional primness.

‘No, you never do,’ he responded with a quiet smile that made her want to leap on him. ‘I’ll be waiting at four, okay?’

‘Okay.’

And then he was gone, striding back down the street to where the BMW sat waiting, and she turned into the shop, her heart perfectly in tune with the joyous carols that met her ears from the supermarket’s speakers.

Zeke was back before four—just gone one, to be precise—and as she glanced up from serving another of the steady stream of customers that had filled the shop all day, Marianne felt her heart stop and then race on at express speed.

He looked cool and indifferent to the Christmas throng, the original ice-man, and she was so sure he was going to cancel their date that her mouth fell open in a little gape when he bent down and said, very quietly, in her ear, ‘Can I borrow your front door keys?’

‘What?’ She was aware of Mrs Polinkski and Kadia, who were manning the other two tills the small shop boasted, watching them interestedly, and she knew she was blushing a bright scarlet.

‘Your keys,’ Zeke repeated patiently. ‘I’ve bought a few things and I’d like to leave them in the bedsit if that’s all right?’

‘Oh, yes—yes, of course. I’ll just…’ She gazed round somewhat desperately. ‘My bag’s in the back.’

‘I can wait a while.’

She found it excruciatingly hard to concentrate on what she was doing, with every tiny sensor in her body aware of Zeke as he leant lazily against the far wall, his dark gaze trained on her hot face, but eventually she finished serving her customer, asked the next in the long queue to wait for a moment, and flew out to the back of the shop.

He levered himself upright as she reappeared, taking the keys with an enigmatic smile as his eyes lingered on her mouth long enough for her to feel hot all over.

‘I’ll see you later,’ she whispered feverishly, aware of their audience as Mrs Polinkski’s and Kadia’s eyes burnt a hole in her back.

He nodded. ‘Till four.’

It was typical of Zeke that he didn’t waste any words.
When he spoke it was brief, concise and succinct, she thought ruefully as she watched the big dark figure walk out of the shop without a glance at anyone, regal and autocratic to the last. And then she caught at the wayward feeling of tenderness the thought evoked, forcing it under lock and key before it could run riot.

She loved him, but nothing had changed, not really, she told herself firmly. They might be sharing a Christmas meal tonight but they were separated still, and it didn’t look as though Zeke was any nearer to dealing with his personal demons.

But he
had
come to see her, the reckless, more abandoned Marianne breathed radiantly. He could have spent Christmas with any one of a number of besotted females, but he had sought her out. That meant something, didn’t it?

Pity? A feeling of responsibility? Guilt? the sensible little voice in her head said nastily. It could mean any one of those or all of them.

Or it could mean he hadn’t been able to stay away. But the radiance was dimming as the sensible part of her came to the fore.

She took a deep, steadying breath and turned back to the next customer, who had been watching events with some interest.

‘Your young man, is he, love?’ the little old lady with bright round button eyes and rosy-red apple cheeks asked in a stage whisper. ‘Bit of all right, ain’t he? Reminds me of my ’arry, he does.’

Marianne glanced at the pitifully meagre items in the basket, which included a roast turkey dinner for one, and as though the little woman guessed what she was thinking, she added quietly, ‘Lost ’im in the War, love. We’d only bin married six months. Over fifty years ago now, but I
never married again—although I had offers. Oh, yes, I did an’ all.’ She nodded her head like a bright-eyed robin. ‘But no one measured up to my ’arry, if you know what I mean.’

‘Yes, I know exactly what you mean,’ Marianne said softly.

‘You make the most of each day, love. That way you won’t ’ave nothin’ to reproach yourself for. Me an’ my ’arry, we packed a lifetime of lovin’ into a few short months, an’ I’ve no regrets. There’s not many as can say that, eh?’ the tiny old lady said with a cheeky grin.

Marianne smiled back, although she felt more like howling, but one thing had clarified in her head. She was right to let Zeke come tonight, however things turned out. Like the little old lady’s beloved Harry, no one could measure up to Zeke. He was a one-off, and if they didn’t get back together again she would have to face living life alone for the rest of her days.

She’d do it—she gave a grim mental nod to the silent declaration—but she didn’t want to. Oh,
how
she didn’t want to.

‘Mrs Perry?’ Mrs Polinkski had come bustling across to Marianne’s till as her other daughter came to take over the lunch-time stint. ‘You won the raffle, dear. Did you know?’

‘Did I?’ The rosy red cheeks expanded further as the little woman beamed at Mrs Polinkski. ‘Well, I never. First time I’ve won a raffle in me life.’

Mrs Polinkski glanced at the giant hamper on display at the front of the supermarket and then back to the diminutive elfin figure in front of her, and said kindly, ‘I’ll call Wilmer and he can take you home in the van, Mrs Perry. There’s a nice fresh turkey to go with it, you know.’

Marianne glanced at Mrs Polinkski—the turkey hadn’t
been part of the prize but was typical of the generosity of the other woman; Mrs Perry was a favorite among the Polinkskis—and smiled. People could be so
nice
.

‘A turkey?’ Mrs Perry was clearly enchanted. ‘By, this’ll be a Christmas to remember all right. I’ll call in an’ ask me friend, Ada, to come for Christmas dinner, an’ we can make a party of it.’

‘You do that,’ Mrs Polinkski said cheerily, ‘and a very merry Christmas and happy New Year, Mrs Perry.’

The warm glow Mrs Perry’s good fortune gave Marianne continued for the rest of the afternoon, and when—at just gone three—Mrs Polinkski gave her a very generous Christmas box in the form of a cheque, and told her she could leave early, she didn’t need telling twice.

She could put the bedsit to rights before Zeke came, she told herself as she hurried along the frosty pavement, although no amount of tidying or titivating could make it other than what it was. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Because she was going to see him tonight!

She knew she ought to curb the fierce surge of pleasure and excitement that had been mounting all afternoon but she couldn’t, she just couldn’t, and anyway—it was Christmas. Everyone was allowed to hope and dream at Christmas, after all, and even though she knew she might be building her hopes on shifting sand, it couldn’t quell her happiness.

This would be the first Christmas Eve they had spent with just the two of them, she realised as she neared the house. And it also might be their last. She didn’t like the cold little voice of reason that seemed determined to pop up at the oddest moments that day, and she was frowning as she dived into her handbag for her keys.

And then she remembered. Zeke had them.

Oh, great. She glanced at the shutter window of the
charity shop and sighed. Wonderful start. She hadn’t given the keys a thought, not even when she had asked Mrs Polinkski to keep an eye open for Zeke and to send him along.

There was just the merest chance someone from the charity shop might be sorting stock in the spare room on the landing, although she doubted it. Nevertheless, she rang the bell on the off chance, and then gasped out loud a moment later when Zeke’s voice said, ‘Yes, who is it?’

‘Me.’ And then she added hastily, ‘Marianne. It’s Marianne, Zeke. But what are you doing here at this time?’

‘I could say the same to you,’ the rich dark voice said back. ‘It isn’t four yet, is it? Not by my watch anyway.’

‘I left early.’

This was ridiculous—standing in the freezing cold on her own doorstep talking to the occupant of
her
bedsit!

The same thought must have occurred to Zeke, because in the next moment the door whirred and clicked open and then she was running up the stairs, quite unaware of the brightness of her eyes.

He was standing in the bedsit doorway as she reached the landing and she noticed he was dressed casually in an open-necked charcoal-grey shirt and trousers. She would have liked to pretend she was oblivious to the dark, virile masculinity, but the wild racing of her blood said otherwise. Nevertheless, she managed a fairly composed, ‘Hallo, Zeke,’ as he smiled at her.

The surprise of finding him there coupled with the excitement she was trying to hide made her work on automatic as he waved her past him into the room beyond, but she had taken no more than two or three steps when she came to an abrupt halt, her eyes widening and a sense of unreality taking hold.

The dingy little room was transformed. A small Christ
mas tree complete with tinsel and baubles and twinkling lights stood on the table, the battered tabletop hidden by the gaily wrapped parcels covering it. And that wasn’t the least of it.

In one corner of the room a TV was relaying an afternoon carol concert at some cathedral or other, the strains of ‘While Shepherds Watched their Flocks by Night’ filling the air waves. Marianne stared at it incredulously, too amazed to speak or move.

In the limited kitchen area boxes of groceries stood waiting to be unpacked, along with several bottles of wine, a small turkey, two enormous one-inch thick steaks, and cartons of mushrooms, tomatoes and other fresh produce.

A large bowl of fruit and another of mixed nuts stood either side of the little gas fire, which was casting a warm glow into the room, and with the fading light outside the small bedsit had gained a cosy cheerfulness it could never aspire to in the harsh, searching light of day.

‘Zeke?’ She turned to face him, utterly bemused, and as her eyes met his she could find nothing to say, not even thank you. She just couldn’t believe that he had done all this for her; taken time away from his precious work schedule and the thousand and one things which claimed his attention to be here.

‘The TV’s your Christmas present, before you object,’ he said softly. ‘That’s not breaking any conditions of the separation, is it?’

His eyes were almost black in the dim light, with tiny dancing flames from the reflection of the fire, and his hard mouth was twisting in a smile that was very self-deprecating. He looked big and dark and all male, and the force of her desire frightened Marianne to death.

She dropped her lids and fought to gain control of her
feelings. ‘I don’t suppose so,’ she said carefully, her voice trembling a little. ‘But I haven’t got anything to give you.’

He didn’t reply, and then, as she lifted her gaze to his dark face and saw the look in his eyes, she knew the heat which had begun in the core of her was staining her cheeks deep pink.

It was Zeke who broke the moment, which had become electric, as he turned towards the food, saying, ‘I couldn’t get all I would have liked to without a fridge, but I dare say we can survive on that lot for a couple of days.’

‘A couple of days?’ she queried warily.

‘You wouldn’t deny a starving man Christmas lunch?’

‘You don’t look starving.’ He looked, well, he looked sensational, she thought weakly.

‘No?’ The hunger she had seen in his eyes a few moments before was even stronger as he turned to face her fully again. ‘Looks can be deceptive,’ he said with wry dark humour, a strange little smile playing about his hard mouth.

Their eyes met and held, and Marianne felt her heart begin to beat faster and faster. ‘Zeke—’

‘No, don’t say anything,’ he said softly, moving swiftly to her side as she stood looking at him uncertainly. His hands cupped her face gently before his fingers stroked some errant strands of silky curls back from her temples. ‘Don’t say a word, Marianne. Can’t we take the next two days as something apart from real life? We won’t talk about the past or the future, just live hour by hour in the present and pretend we’re the only two people in the world.’

She stared at him, her hands resting against his broad chest, and she could feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath her fingers. The twinkling lights from the little Christmas tree and the warm rosy glow from the fire brought the magic of Christmas into the room, and she knew she wasn’t going to resist him. Mrs Perry had said she’d made the most of each day with her Harry and that she had no
regrets, that she’d packed a lifetime of loving into just a few months.

She had two days, and she was going to make the most of them. It might be crazy—it was almost certainly crazy, considering he hadn’t made any promises and nothing between them was resolved—but she was going to do it anyway.

She drew a long, shaky breath, and then lifted her hand to his mouth, tracing the firm lines of his lips with one finger. ‘Kiss me, Zeke.’ It was an answer in itself.

‘The heart has its reasons which reason knows nothing of.’ She had read that somewhere recently, and as Zeke’s mouth took hers she embraced the thought. She loved him; nothing else mattered.

He was kissing her deeply and passionately, and as she wound her slim arms round his neck and kissed him back, fiercely, he growled low in his throat, causing her to arch further into the taut hardness of him.

They undressed each other with feverish, frantic haste, and then they were naked in the dim light of the shadowed room, her slender body pale against the darkness of his tanned male flesh. He was unashamedly aroused, and as his hands roamed her body she gloried in the power she had over this big, ruthless, powerful man. He wanted her and she wanted him, wanted to feel the silky hardness of him inside her and know that she was joined to him in an act as old as time itself.

He was breathing hard, his broad, hair-roughened chest rising and falling as he fought for control, and then he moved her to arm’s length, in order to drink in the sight of her. She stood in front of him proudly, her head uplifted to his gaze as his hungry eyes moved down the pure line of her throat, the full, rich ripeness of her breasts with their jutting peaks, the flatness of her smooth stomach and long shapely lines of her legs.