City Girl (5 page)

‘Dev, Mr Cantrell-King is here to see you for a minute.’

Behind her she could see Colin’s broad outline and her heart gave a crazy lurch. Maybe he was going to tell her not to bother coming back. Defiantly she stood up.

‘Sorry to disturb you, Devlin,’ he was saying smoothly. ‘Could I speak to you for a moment?’

‘I have some packing to finish. Excuse me.’ Caroline, always courteous, disappeared. Colin shut the door and stood before her. ‘I’m sorry, Devlin,’ he gave a smile.
‘I guess I’m behaving like a love-sick teenager. Forgive me?’

A burden was lifted; Devlin’s heart danced.

‘I’m sorry too.’ She touched his face lightly with her fingertips. ‘A lot of what you say is true.’ For a brief moment she thought she saw a flicker of triumph in
his eyes but she dismissed it as he bent his head and kissed her long and lingeringly and sensually. She returned his embrace ardently, utterly happy.

‘I’ll be mad with jealousy while you’re gone,’ he murmured against her earlobe. ‘Promise you won’t lose your heart to any romantic Alfredo.’

‘I promise,’ she whispered, burrowing her face against his chest and wishing she could hold the moment for ever, loving the male musky scent of him.

He drew an envelope out of his pocket and smiled down at her. ‘I think you forgot this!’

Devlin laughed. ‘I was so mad . . .’

‘I know you were, my hot tempered little witch,’ he murmured, as he drew her close to slide the envelope into her dressing gown pocket, his hand lingering against the softness of her
body through her robe. She trembled.

‘I’d better go before I forget myself. This is not how I plan to seduce you,’ he smiled warmly at her. ‘Be good! I’ll see you in two weeks, Devlin.’

Her face, innocent of make up, freshly scrubbed and pink after her bath, lit up like a Christmas tree. Impulsively she threw her arms around his neck and whispered, ‘I’ll miss you,
Colin.’

‘I’ll miss you too, you little baggage. I wish I could chuck up everything and come with you.’ He grinned at her. ‘I’ll tell you one thing: if I was with you,
you’d never get a tan; I’d have you in bed all day.’ The doorbell rang, saving Devlin’s blushes and, laughing, Colin walked out into the hall just as Richard was walking in.
Hastily Devlin made the introductions.

She couldn’t put a finger on it but she just couldn’t take to Caroline’s boyfriend and she felt the feeling was mutual. Not that he was ever anything but suavely charming and
polite to her. The two men talked casually for a minute or two as it seemed they were already acquainted and then Colin was gone. Richard and Caroline were in the lounge so Devlin was alone,
hugging her happiness to herself.

He had actually come and apologized . . . and at such a late hour! And what’s more, the cheque in the envelope was for a hundred pounds! He had to care as much as she did. In one way she
wished the holiday was over. Still, now that her mind was at ease she decided that she was going to have the best holiday of her life.

Devlin raised her face to the warm evening sun, blind to the people strolling along the seawall and only vaguely conscious of the seagulls circling, screeching and bawling raucously above her.
It had been a great holiday, she thought sadly, and now all the good was gone from it. Now that she was almost sure she was pregnant. Never again would she be so carefree and happy as she had been
for two weeks in the Moorish heaven where time stood still and nothing was more pressing than deciding whether to drink by the pool or by the sea, or selecting which outfit to wear and who to date.
Oh it had been a fantastic holiday all right! In spite of herself she grinned.

Two

Oohhh . . .OOHHH! Melinda groaned in ecstasy as her body flamed with violent passion. Ramon’s hands were caressing her intimately where she had never been touched
before and again she cried aloud in pleasure as her insides turned to liquid fire . . .

‘It gets better, girls. Listen!’ The four of them lay shrieking with laughter beneath a scorching sun, on a golden beach lapped by soothing whitecrested waves, as
Ailish read aloud from a stack of bodice-rippers she had brought on holidays. Noeleen, the fourth member of the party, turned over on her stomach and gave a muffled exclamation.

‘My Gawd girls! Look at that . . . what a bunch of grapes!’

Noeleen had an exquisitely vulgar turn of mind and kept them highly amused by her running commentaries on the daily parade of male sun-worshippers up and down the beach. The rest of them snorted
and giggled as two young Portuguese men, wearing only the briefest of G-strings, strutted past, parading their wares.

‘Oh crikey! Here comes Big Wobbliers! I’m going for a swim. Anyone else coming?’

‘Big Wobbliers,’ so named by the irrepressible Noeleen because of his more than obvious attributes, had taken a fancy to Devlin from the first moment she had arrived on Oura beach
and because the feeling was not mutual, she spent her time trying to avoid him. Shrieking and giggling the girls dived into the foaming surf, leaving the lovesick Wobbliers testing the water with
his toes. Love would go far but diving into the Atlantic waters was too much to ask. Huffily he turned on his heel and walked further along the beach to try his luck elsewhere.

And so the days had passed in a haze of sun and fun, the nights bringing new adventures and experiences as they stuffed themselves at the beachside cafés under the stars, drinking bottles
of cool delicious Mateus Rose, discoing in the KISS, the biggest disco on the Algarve and tumbling into bed exhausted with the dawn . . .

It had been a great holiday, the best Devlin had ever had, and in spite of her woe she smiled at the memories. Restlessly she got up from where she had been sitting and began to walk back along
the seawall, her hands in her pockets, her head down, turning over and over in her mind the events of the past few weeks, her thoughts spinning crazily like a ferris wheel until she wanted to
scream. Never had a girl been so happy to come home from holidays as she had been on that Saturday, as she sat in the huge Aer Lingus Jumbo gliding through the skies with the towns and cities of
Spain passing beneath them. Her reunion with Colin was foremost in her mind. What would she wear to show off her deep golden tan? The sun had bleached her hair even blonder and she knew without
vanity that she was glowing and healthy-looking in spite of a dose of Spanish tummy. In her mind she discarded one outfit after another before deciding on a simple white broderie anglaise top and
matching skirt. Thank God she didn’t suffer any inhibitions about going topless, there was nothing worse than strap marks she thought, eying her partly revealed golden globes with
satisfaction.

Her parents had met her at the airport, Lydia offering her a cool reserved cheek for a kiss, Gerry enveloping her in a bear hug. She had practically danced into the office on Monday, only to
have her bubble of anticipation burst ever so slightly by a note from Colin saying he would be delayed. An emergency operation had come up and he wouldn’t be in the office until after lunch.
Nurse McGrath had a migraine and apart from a few polite comments about Devlin’s tan was in no mood to chat.

Restlessly Devlin organized her desk, noting that the temp had done a good job in her absence. At around eleven thirty Nurse McGrath announced that she was going home and with one hand clutching
the bottle of wine Devlin had presented her with and the other rather dramatically clutching her aching temple she gave a martyred sniff and made her exit. Devlin had been so absorbed in the latest
Jackie Collins novel that she didn’t noticed Colin’s arrival and it was only his low whistle of appreciation that alerted her to his presence.

Leaning over her desk he kissed her full on the mouth, long and lingeringly. Jackie Collins, eat your heart out, she thought happily, wrapping her arms around his neck, hungry for him.

‘Oh Devlin, I missed you like hell!’ Colin nuzzled her earlobe.

‘Aren’t you afraid Nurse might come in?’ Devlin murmured dreamily, forgetting that the martyred one had left.

‘The doorman told me she’s gone home. For God’s sake Devlin, come out from behind that desk before I go crazy!’ Roughly he pulled her into his arms and kissed her
passionately, his hands busy with the fastenings of her blouse.

Devlin felt a twinge of panic. ‘Colin, wait! What if someone comes in? No! . . . wait.’ His hands were inside the flimsy blouse caressing her breasts and the sensations he was
causing to ripple through her were delightful and new. She had never felt so melty and soft, her insides felt like warm marshmallow. Part of her wanted more, part of her was scared.

‘Devlin, Devlin!’ He raised his head. ‘I’ve thought about nothing else but wanting you since you started working for me.’ He grimaced. ‘Don’t ask me how
I’ve kept my hands off you until now . . .’

Swiftly he locked her office door and taking her hand led her in past his own surgery into the tastefully furnished cubicle where he examined his patients. His eyes were warm and full of desire
as he turned to her and said huskily, ‘You know you arouse me, don’t you? Make love to me darling, here, now, I need you.’

Later, when she reflected on the moment she lost her virginity she would wonder how she had ever let his ridiculous corny words impress her. But at the time his words, uttered in husky
passionate tones, had thrilled her and she wanted him to love her. She had felt a sense of power that she, Devlin Delaney, a twenty-year-old virgin, could inflame this suave experienced man so much
that he wanted her passionately, urgently.

She could feel the physical evidence of her power as he pressed her against the couch and, feeling a quick flash of relief that she had shaved her legs and under her arms the night before and
that she was wearing her sexy lace panties, she lay back and waited for the earth to move. By now Colin was frantically removing her skirt, his breathing harsh and heavy, his body writhing urgently
against her. A moment later she gasped in surprise and pain as he undid his fly and penetrated her.

‘Christ! So you are a virgin!’ he groaned in surprise, pausing for a moment to stare at her lying beneath him. He felt her body stiffen as an expression of pain crossed her face.

‘Relax, relax,’ he said soothingly and started to move against her. The movements became faster, stronger and then with a final thrust he collapsed groaning on top of her, leaving
her sore, wet and utterly dismayed.

Was this what it was all about, this painful unpleasant heaving? Where were the waves of pleasure lifting her to heights of passionate fulfilment that she had read about so often in novels? Or
seen in films, as the heroine, her face contorted with pleasure, lay beneath her hero saying dreamily, ‘That was beautiful, lover.’ Was it all a big hoax? Nobody had ever told her about
the soreness, the messiness. She was sure her broderie anglaise skirt was ruined. Devlin knew the first few moments were supposed to be painful the first time it happened, but pain was supposed to
give way to pleasure. Maybe she was one of these frigid women she had heard about. Devlin felt strangely sad. She was afraid she was going to cry and disgrace herself completely. It must have been
a disaster for Colin . . . how could she face him? Colin, his breathing almost back to normal, was drawing away from her to give her room to move. To her surprise he was smiling.

‘That was fantastic, sweetheart. God, you were so tight I thought I was going to explode. The next time will be better for you, I promise.’ He pulled her up beside him. ‘Listen
darling, run into the toilet and fix yourself up. I have someone coming in at four and we don’t want them to see you in a state of undress, now do we?’

Mortified, Devlin realized that she was half naked. Laughing at her blush he kissed her tenderly on the mouth. ‘Oh Devlin, my little virgin, that was an added bonus. I’ll teach you
all about love, my pet, I have a share in a penthouse out in Dalkey.’ He gave her a wink. ‘Some of my colleagues and I maintain it to entertain visiting specialists.’ He winked
again conspiratorially and Devlin knew with a sinking sensation that specialists were not the only ones he entertained. She wondered had there been many before her.

Hastily pushing the thought to the back of her mind she drew her clothes around her with as much dignity as she could muster and walked out to the toilet. As she wiped the blood from between her
legs she could hear him whistling cheerfully in his own office. Would it be better for her the second time? He seemed to think so and he thought it had been fantastic. Maybe she wasn’t frigid
after all.

There hadn’t been a second time. Devlin had put her foot down when he tried to make love to her again in the office and he promised to take her to the place in Dalkey. They had been
kissing and cuddling once when Nurse McGrath had almost walked in on top of them, scaring the daylights out of Devlin. She was so nervous as a result that she would tense up if Colin came within a
foot of her. Then Colin’s mother-in-law died suddenly and after the funeral he told Devlin that he felt obliged to take his wife away for a few days.

It was while he was away that she sensed that she was pregnant. A slight dizziness that was gone in seconds was her first indication that life would never be the same. It brought with it a
strange heightened intensity of emotions that she had never before experienced. Walking along the South Wall, Devlin reflected wryly that this certainly didn’t happen in romantic novels or in
Dynasty
or
Dallas
either. She couldn’t imagine Alexis Carrington-Colby-Dexter missing her period.

Why did it have to happen to her? What in the name of God was she going to do? Lydia would freak altogether, she had no time for unmarried mothers.

‘There’s no excuse!’ she had said coldly, upon hearing of the unfortunate girl in Devlin’s class. ‘Haven’t these people ever heard of self control? And anyway
in this day and age people can prevent pregnancy occuring. She probably wanted to trap him into marrying her!’

‘Oh Mum! Who’d want to do anything like that?’ Devlin had responded heatedly.

‘It’s been done before, my girl,’ Lydia had snapped, her eyes bright and angry, her voice strangely bitter. Devlin, unwilling to risk an argument, had said no more, but she
often thought about her mother’s words and the sense of bitterness behind them. Maybe she knew someone that it had happened to. The thought horrified her. She couldn’t conceive of doing
that to someone. Marriages were supposed to be based on trust. How awful to be trapped into a lifetime of living with someone who had deliberately got pregnant.