Fast Friends (26 page)

‘
I’m
really
not,’ she repeated
anxiously, and saw Mac nod, believing her.

‘
That’s all
right, then.’

‘
And I’d like to go,
now. I’d like
us
to go now.’ Shyness
wasn’t going to get her where she wanted to be, as quickly as
she
wanted to be there. It was time to be brave, she realized.

‘Your place or mine?’

Mac laughed quietly. ‘You haven’t changed, Lou.’

‘Yes, I have,’ she promised him. ‘I’ve changed for the
better.’

‘In that case, let’s go inside and phone for a taxi.’

Her gaze slipped beyond him to the great black silhouettes
standing motionless on the grass. ‘Why don’t
we take a
helicopter?’

‘Lou, you’re quite mad,’ he told her affectionately. ‘You
don’t even know how to fly one.’

She laughed out loud and took his arm, steering him back
towards the main entrance of Elm House. ‘You have no sense of
adventure, darling. But OK, if you’re going to be
stuffy about
it, we’ll just have to take the pilot along too.’

It was exactly like falling in love,
she thought, as the rotor
blades
whipped round at full speed, flattening the grass that surrounded them and
scattering frozen leaves like confetti. Everything happened so
quickly;
one
second they were on the
ground and then the
next, with a tremendous surge of power
and noise, they were airborne.

Loulou, strapped into her seat with
the pilot on her left and Mac on her right, peered out through the bubble of
perspex as
the
ground tilted sharply beneath them and the helicopter
wheeled round and suddenly upwards,
soaring into the black
sky. The sensation really was
just
like falling in love; exhilara
ting and alarming and quite, quite irresistible.

‘
We could have taken a
taxi,’ shouted Mac, above the
tremendous noise. Turning, she kissed his
smooth brown cheek.
‘Too slow, darling. And
besides, I’ve always wanted to sweep
you off your feet.’

Chapter 24

The moment Loulou awoke the following morning she slid carefully
out of bed, reached for her bag and slunk into the bathroom. She had to be
looking good when Mac woke up – the
fact
that he had seen her naked face hundreds of times when
they were married counted for nothing now. This was
starting
over and she needed the
security of freshly brushed teeth,
blusher, mascara and a comb through
her tangled curls to bolster her fragile ego.

But it wasn’t easy, applying rosy blusher to maximum
effect when her mouth kept breaking into a smile she couldn’t control.
Last night. What a truly incredible, brilliant,
unforgettable night
it had been.

And Mac, her very own darling Mac had been so . . .
vulnerable. Yes, that was the word, decided Loulou as she studied her
reflection in the mirror above the marbled basin and saw the unstoppable smile
widen once more like a flower in the sun.

He had been
vulnerable,
and she
found it unbelievably
touching. It was as if he had realized too late how severely he
had incriminated himself, how wide open he had left
himself to
scornful rejection, and when
Loulou had responded instead
with warmth and joy he had almost melted
with relief into her arms.

It had been an expert seduction, she
recalled now, almost
giddy with
happiness as she applied just a slick of petal-pink lipstick. Every caress,
every kiss, every sinuous movement of
her
body had been geared to giving him pleasure, and to showing
him how much
pleasure he gave her in return.

They had made love three times and
her body ached
exquisitely this
morning, to remind her of that fact. Dreamily, Loulou unstoppered the bottle of
Christian Dior aftershave and inhaled the scent which always reminded her of
him. How many
times in the last few years had
she paused beside the Dior stand
in Harrods or Selfridges and doused
herself with Eau Sauvage
because it brought
back memories of Mac? What a masochist
she had been.

But now he was back in her life and she really didn’t need
to stand naked in the bathroom with her nose in a bottle. The real thing was
lying in bed just a few yards away.

And everything was going to be all
right. Everything from
now on
would be absolutely 150 per cent perfect.

It wasn’t until they had finished
breakfast in bed – strong
French coffee, fresh orange juice and the still-effervescent
remains of last night’s celebratory champagne – and made
love
for the fourth time, that Loulou began
to experience her first
doubts.

Typically, she had removed the problem of Joshua from her
mind as easily as if he were no more awkward than an overdue phone bill. Last
night, following Mac’s astonishing appearance, Joshua had simply ceased to
exist in her thoughts.

But Loulou had to be back at Vampires
by twelve thirty in
order to host a
birthday party for a well-known Fleet Street
journalist
and Mac was showing every sign of wanting to
accompany her. And now, far
too late as usual, she realized that Joshua would be back at her flat ready for
a confrontation that would make the shoot-out in High Noon look like a chimps’
tea party. He simply wasn’t the type to sit back and accept the fact
that she had abandoned him in Gloucestershire and
run away
with another man, even if the
other man was one of her ex-
husbands.

Joshua was
going to be incredibly, unbelievably angry.

Mac, if he learnt that she had lied to
him, would be angrier
still. And while the prospect of Josh’s unleashed fury was
bearable, the idea that she might lose Mac so soon after
finding him again was impossible to even contemplate.

This, then,
was where her problem now lay.

‘
But you
must have work to do, baby,’ she said hopefully,
snuggling against his chest. ‘And this birthday bash is going to
be the most awful bore. Why don’t I just shoot back
in a cab,
get it over with, tidy up the flat and meet you back here at
about
six. We can have dinner at Ma Maison
– is it still your favourite?
– and then maybe go on to Annabel’s for .
.

‘
You aren’t getting rid
of me that easily,’ Mac interrupted
her, tracing the curve of her left
breast with a slow, tantalizing
finger. ‘I’m
coming back with you now. Unless there’s a
problem?’ he added jokingly. ‘You’re not hiding some new
husband
away in that flat, are you? I warn you, I shall look in every wardrobe when I
get there –’

‘
No new husband,’ said
Loulou unhappily. There was no-
one,
absolutely no-one as determined as Mac when he wanted
to be. If Joshua
was there she was doomed, but maybe by some miracle he wouldn’t be. ‘Come on
then, darling, we’d better get dressed if we’re going. Let’s hope this
afternoon won’t be too boring, hmm?’

Boring wasn’t the word for it. Loulou’s
hopes soared when,
having entered her
flat as cautiously as a burglar, she saw that every trace of Joshua had
vanished. He had been back and
removed every
incriminating item. Even his toothbrush and
razor were gone, she discovered when she crept into the
bathroom.
And her own possessions, to her surprise and relief, were intact.

The tight knot of anxiety in her stomach relaxed with a
great whoosh of relief as she realized that there was not going to be a
problem, after all. Joshua had behaved in a decent, honourable fashion and,
realizing that he was no longer needed, had quietly removed his possessions and
himself from her life.

Loulou was both amazed and overwhelmingly grateful. There
was no longer any need to worry. Everything was
going to be
all right.

‘
The flat looks just the same,’ said Mac, standing with his
hands on his hips in the centre of the sitting-room and
surveying the home he had shared with Loulou for only four short weeks.
He sounded vaguely surprised and she smiled. She
knew what
he meant. Her very own personalized brand of clutter was
unchanged; her messiness was still what dominated the highly desirable
residence, and it was particularly noticeable to Mac because his own penthouse
apartment overlooking the Thames was one of those stark monstrosities so
beloved of men and so bereft of clutter that it made Loulou cringe. In Mac’s
sterile, immaculate flat practically the only sign of life had been the
photographs lining most of the walls, photographs
which he
had taken and which
portrayed the different, spiralling stages
of his now hugely successful career. And even they were all
black
and white.

‘
It looks nice.’ He
nodded his approval, his dark eyebrows
still signalling faint surprise. ‘Friendly.’

‘
I’m a very friendly
person,’ said Loulou lightly. ‘Stick
around, and you’ll find out just how
friendly . .

She hesitated and realized to her astonishment that she
was
blushing. It was the first reference
either of them had made to
‘the future’.
So far, by unspoken mutual consent, they had
avoided the subject
entirely, Loulou because she was far too worried about the problem of Joshua to
dare consider such an
enthralling prospect.
And Mac had done likewise, she presumed,
because he was naturally far
more cautious where relationships and futures were concerned.

Disconcertingly, he watched with
interest as the colour
suffused
Loulou’s cheeks. Even more disconcertingly, he said,
in a
thoughtful manner, and didn’t elaborate further.
Another annoying trait of Mac’s, she remembered, was his way
of
keeping his private thoughts private. She had never quite mastered the art of
reading his mind.

It was bizarre, thought Loulou, that
they had once been
married
to each other and that they had just made love four
times in indecently rapid succession, yet there still
existed an almost palpable constraint between them that prevented any
discussion about what was surely the most important
subject of
all.

‘Do sit down ... help yourself to a drink . . .’ she
urged, still
flustered. Christ, she had
almost said: Make yourself at home! ‘I’ll just take a quick shower and change.
Can’t very well wear
this, can I?’ And
plucking futilely at her ball gown, she turned
and fled to the safety of the bathroom before Mac’s watchful
silence
unnerved her completely.

The party downstairs was in full swing by the time Loulou
and
Mac finally made their entrance; Loulou
in an electric blue
creation and Mac in a black jacket worn over a crisp
white shirt and yet another pair of his beloved and authentically faded 501s. ‘I’m
a photographer,’ he had explained with a shrug when
Loulou had reminded him that everyone else would be wearing
a suit
— at least to begin with. ‘I can get away with it.’

And why should she mind? Loulou asked
herself with a
naughty
smile. She adored 501s. Those tantalizingly slow-to
undo button flies only served to heighten the anticipation
. . .

‘Lou, my angel!’ roared Terry Howard, spotting her from
his position at the bar where a great deal of money was changing hands at a
frenzied rate. ‘Come over here and let me give you a massive birthday kiss.
’

‘
It’s
your
birthday,’ Loulou
yelled back above the considerable noise of the bar crowd. ‘I’m supposed to
give
you
one!’ Terry rolled his eyes. ‘Promises, promises.’

‘
I’m not at all sure I want to kiss you, anyway,’ she
complained
when she finally reached him. ‘You’re far too old, ugly and lecherous.’