Fast Friends (25 page)

I’ll go, he decided, praying that he could make his escape
undetected. It had been wrong to come here.
Now all he could
do was have the grace to admit that to himself and
leave.

Slowly and with extreme caution, Mac took first one step
backwards, then another. Just as he was about to
take his third
step towards retreat,
he heard Loulou’s voice again. And this
time he heard with astounding clarity exactly what it was that
she
was saying as she hammered her fist against a heavy wood-panelled door.

‘
You lousy son of a
bitch, have you told her you’ve got
herpes? I’d get out of there fast,
sweetheart, if I were you – he’ll only give to you what he gave to me. And I
may not have a gun this time, but I’m still deadly serious.’

For several seconds there was total silence, whilst both
Mac and the occupants of the room digested this thought-provoking statement.
Then Mac heard angry male voices inside the room, and footsteps heading
purposefully towards the door. Glimpsing another flash of silver as Loulou
moved backwards, he ran
unthinkingly towards
her, reaching out into the blackness until
his fingers encountered bare flesh. A shoulder. As Loulou
squealed
with fright and the door began to rattle he located her
arm and yanked her towards him so fiercely that she stumbled
on
her high heels.

‘
Get
off!
Who is it? Let
go
of me
. . .’ she protested, wrigglinglike an eel, but Mac knew from long practice how
to deal with that. Hoisting her expertly over his shoulder, and without saying
a word, he started down the corridor just as the
door began to open, heading back towards the noise and bright lights of the
ball.
It wasn’t, he thought ironically, quite how he had envisaged his reunion with
Loulou. But then when had anything ever gone according to plan where she was
concerned?

Loulou was thinking as fast as she
knew how, and she
was
thoroughly confused as a result. Was she being rescued
or kidnapped? And whilst it would seem
logical to assume
that the man over
whose shoulder she was unceremoniously
dangling
was Joshua, he didn’t
feel
like Joshua. Cautiously
raising her arm, she touched his hair. This
definitely wasn’t
Joshua, she thought,
realizing at the same time that the
champagne
she had consumed was battling against gravity in
her stomach.

‘
Stop!’ she hissed,
pounding his shoulder. ‘I feel sick, for
Christ’s sake. Put me down . .

But even as she spoke it became apparent that what her
subconscious had already realized was becoming an
inescap
able, unbelievable reality. The silky texture of the hair she had
touched, the grip of those hands around her thighs, that graceful, catlike
stride .. .

But how was it possible that Mac was
here, rescuing her
from
the clutches of two infuriated gay boys without even
uttering a single word? What was he
doing
here? Was it really
him?

They reached the end of the corridor,
and as they rounded
the
corner to emerge upon the balustraded gallery, Loulou
realized that she was being put down. But she kept her
eyes resolutely shut, as she put out her hands until they rested against
broad male shoulders. Adrenalin was hurtling
through her body
as if it were Brands Hatch and she was trembling
slightly, sick
now with anticipation and the
thundering rush of love which
she was quite unable to suppress.

‘
Lou, open your eyes and look at me.’

That voice. That melting, softly Scottish-accented voice
was
what got to her most of all, and she
felt the rush quicken,
electrifying
every nerve-ending in her body. Finally convinced
at last that he was
real, she dared to meet his gaze.

Oh, that dear face! Those beautiful
brown eyes with their
thick, dark lashes and the fine tracery of laughter lines fanning
out at the corners even though he wasn’t laughing. And
that
irresistible mouth . . . how could one
mouth be so exquisite, yet
as cruel as Mac’s had been when he had left
her?

‘
What are you doing here?’
she murmured, still mesmerized
by his face and fighting the urge to kiss him.

‘No, me
first. Do you really have a gun?’

‘Of course
I don’t have a gun!’

‘Do you
really have herpes?’

‘Mac!’ It
was a wail of protest, and his mouth betrayed the glimmer of a smile.

‘Well, I
had to ask, didn’t I? Who were you shouting at, back there . . . or who did you
think
you were shouting at?’

‘
Someone I’ve never even met,’ dismissed Loulou
with
impatience. ‘It’s not important. Oh Mac, can I give you a hug?’

She had said it a thousand times
before, and on most of
those
occasions it had irritated him. He had loved her, but her constant need for
affection, for
proof
of that love, had somehow cheapened it for him.
What did a hug or a kiss prove, after all? Nothing.

Now,
however, things were very different.

‘
Only if I can hug you as well,’ he said hesitantly, and
Loulou’s grey eyes promptly filled with tears. Reaching for
him,
sliding her arms around him, she gave herself up to the embrace she had been
missing so badly, for so long.

Nobody
could hug like Mac.

Wow
tell me
what you’re doing here?’ she pleaded when he
finally
released her. ‘In particular, what are you doing here in
those clothes?’

Not that he didn’t look adorable, of course, but it was
rather noticeable apparel amidst the formal black and white worn by every other
man present at the ball.

‘
I came to see you,’ he
said simply, and this time the tears
spilled
over, trickling unheeded down Loulou’s cheeks. Touching
each tear in
turn, he added: "This wasn’t supposed to happen.’

‘
I’m happy. You know I
always cry when I’m happy,’ she
said, sniffing inelegantly. ‘You
should
know that.’

‘I do. I remember you watching the Olympics on TV.’ Taking
a clean linen handkerchief from his shirt
pocket, he wiped her
wet cheeks,
taking care not to smudge her eye make-up. ‘You
burst into tears every time somebody won a medal. By the end
of
the Games you’d almost completely dissolved.’

Loulou smiled. ‘And you used to tell me that
        
‘

‘
Well hel-lo!’ said Poppy loudly,
appearing behind them with a huge and knowing smile all over her face. ‘Not
interrupting anything, am I?’

‘This is Poppy,’ explained Loulou, disentangling herself
with reluctance from Mac’s arms. ‘Poppy, meet Mac, my ex-husband. It was Poppy’s
boyfriend I was shouting at – or who I
thought
I
was shouting at – when you found me,’ she added rapidly,
hoping
that the girl would have enough presence of mind not to mention Joshua. ‘We
came down together as a threesome, but he decided to make up a fourth, the sod.’

‘
Loulou decided to pay
him back,’ Poppy continued, her
wink
scarcely visible to the naked eye. ‘But sadly she was
wasting her time. I’ve just found Jamie fast asleep
on a pile of
fur coats in the
downstairs cloakroom. He’s been there all the
time. Are you two quite
sure you are divorced?’ she added suspiciously, observing the rapturous
expression upon Loulou’s face.

‘
If we aren’t, it means
our solicitors ripped us off,’ said
Loulou, disguising the pain with
flippancy.

Poppy shrugged. ‘Oh, well, anyone can make a mistake.
Anyway, we’re going to abandon you, Loulou. Jamie and I are leaving.’
Delicately she added, ‘Will you be all right with Mac?’ and Loulou beamed.

‘
I’ll be very all
right. Thanks for everything, Poppy, and
come and see me soon at
Vampires. We mustn’t lose touch.’

Another infinitesimal wink from Poppy, and she was gone.
Mac reached for Loulou once more. Somehow he just couldn’t hug her enough now.

‘
I can’t believe you
came here without a partner,’ he said,
edging her towards the balcony as
a singing crowd of men and girls careered past them. Loulou swallowed and
shrugged, wondering where Josh was at that moment.

‘I’m a gay
divorcée,’
she told him lightly. ‘I’m
not afraid to
venture out on my own.’ Which
was a big lie, but what else
could
she say? She didn’t even dare risk a glance over the
balcony, in case she spotted Joshua. For both her
sake and
Mac’s she had to persuade him to leave with her now.

It occurred briefly to Loulou that she should feel guilty,
abandoning Joshua so far from home, in a
situation alien to
him, but somehow he no longer mattered. Mac had come all
this way to see her and she had never stopped adoring him for a moment. Joshua,
on the other hand, had never stopped adoring himself. And so what if he was
good in bed? Mac was better.

‘
You look wonderful,’
he told her now, amazed at the ease
with which he could say it since
endearments and flattery didn’t come easily to him.

Loulou’s heart turned over; Mac was
paying her a compli
ment
and she hadn’t had to prise it out of him with a crowbar –
it was purely voluntary! It made her want to cry all over
again.

‘I’m a bit tipsy,’ she admitted, swaying slightly and
using the excuse to steady herself against him. ‘Do you think we could go
outside for a while? I could do with some air.’

The gravel crunched beneath their feet as they walked past
the rows of gleaming cars parked closest to the house. To their left, like
great prehistoric birds, two helicopters stood in silence upon
the grass, their rotor blades wreathed in mist. A
girl in a
pale pink ball gown and a
man with his white tuxedo slung
carelessly over his shoulder walked
ahead of Loulou and Mac, then melted into the darkness beyond the towering elm
trees.

Loulou envied them; their arms had been around each other’s
waists and it had looked so easy and
comfortable that she
couldn’t understand
why she and Mac weren’t similarly
entwined.

But they were walking two feet apart and suddenly she was
overwhelmed with shyness. If she hadn’t known him better, she could have sworn
that Mac was feeling exactly the same way.
Since
blurting out that unexpected compliment, he hadn’t
uttered a single
word.

‘
I’ve missed you,’ she
ventured finally, because what the
hell,
someone
had to say
something.

He turned
to look at her, but the pearly light was behind him and she couldn’t see his
expression at all.

‘
I haven’t
missed you,’ he replied in a low voice. ‘I haven’t
allowed myself to miss you. But tonight,’ he paused and
shrugged
helplessly, ‘I couldn’t stop myself.’

‘I’m glad.’

‘
Are you . . . seeing
anyone else at the moment, Lou? I want
to know the truth.’

Damn, she thought, anxiety mingling with guilt. That he
had
asked was a good sign, maybe indicating
jealousy, but it
reminded her of how
moral Mac was. He demanded both truth
and
faithfulness, and whilst Loulou had always remained faithful
to him, she hadn’t always been able to resist
telling the
occasional, very
small,
white lie.

And now here she was, practically being forced to tell another
one.
Already.

‘
No, I’m
not,’ she said firmly, wondering whether the denial
sounded as false to his ears as it did to her own. Which was
doubly
ironic when you considered that she really wasn’t seeing anyone else, not since
two hours ago. It was just that the person she wasn’t seeing didn’t know it
yet.