Fast Friends (37 page)

Whereas in actual fact, she realized
sadly, the body was
there. It was the
spirit that was missing.

‘Hi, darling,’ she said, as if she had just entered the
room. If she didn’t always feel so stilted in his presence these days, she
would have burst into the room, struck a pose and
sung:
TaaRaaa! ‘

And then, of course, if she had, Nico
would have given her
that particular look, the one which made it seem as if for a
fraction of a second he didn’t recognize her, and Caroline
would have felt foolish and embarrasssed.

Nico looked up, and his smile suddenly seemed so warm and
loving that she couldn’t help it. Like a junkie
needed her fix,
she needed some sign of affection. Crossing the room,
Caroline
paused when she reached him, then
bent down and tenderly
kissed his mouth. As she prolonged the kiss, she allowed
her
stocking-clad legs to rub sensuously
against his thigh, while
her left hand gently played with the sensitive
skin at the back of his neck.

Slowly, slowly she sank down on to his lap, experiencing
the
thrill of achievement-against-the-odds
when she felt how
aroused he was.

‘
So what if we’re late for the party,’ she
murmured, reaching
to unzip his trousers and moving her hips against him. ‘Oh
darling,
everything’s going to be all right, isn’t it?’

‘
Mmm,’ said Nico,
breathing in the amber scent of her
perfume and touching with sensitive
fingers the soft tumbling waves of her tortoiseshell-shaded hair. He couldn’t
bring himself
to say yes – that would be too
blatant a lie – but neither could
he say no. ‘Mm,’ he sighed again as
she unzipped his fly with practised fingers. ‘Let’s go up to the bedroom.’

Smiling, triumphant, Caroline shook
her head, so that her
hair
brushed across his cheek.

‘
No, no, my darling. We
may be married, but we don’t
have
to do it in bed – it isn’t
compulsory. Just let me move across a
little...
there ... now slide down over here ... what’s wrong
with a little
lovemaking on a rug in front of the fire?’

‘We’re late,’ said Nico abruptly, moving away with such
suddenness that Caroline almost rolled over on to
her back.
Before she could even
understand what was happening Nico
was standing before her, buttoning
his shirt and zipping up his trousers. The grim expression on his face was
almost scary.

She can’t help it, he thought,
suppressing the anger inside
him. It isn’t her fault, she doesn’t
know.
Christ, how was it
possible that the memory of that one
night with Camilla could
still be so
fresh . . . and still hurt so much?

Burning tears in her eyes, humiliation
and resentment
vibrating through her
body, Caroline stared up at him.

‘What the bloody hell’s the
matter
with you?’ she
shouted
furiously, then sagged as the tears
began to fall. ‘What’s the
matter with me, then? Don’t I attract you?
Aren’t I pretty enough for you, Nico?’

He looked
away, embarrassed by her grief and by his own disinterest.

‘
I’m sorry. It’s me, not you. Come on,’ he reached out, took her hand and
helped her to her feet. Awkwardly, he dropped a
kiss on her forehead. ‘Let’s get ready. We really shouldn’t be
late for
this thing, should we?’

‘I don’t know what I’ve done wrong,’ said Caroline in a
low voice, wondering if she was prolonging the discord so that she
needn’t go to the charity gala. Her eye make-up
felt
smudged,
and she didn’t know if she had the motivation to repair it.

He sighed. ‘You’ve done nothing wrong.’

‘
Then it must be that I’m
just not attractive enough,’ she
pleaded helplessly.

‘
Don’t be silly,’ said
Nico, turning to leave the room. ‘You
look fine.’

Chapter
31

’Well?’
demanded Matt, ‘do I look irresistible or what?’

‘
Oh, very,’ Camilla reassured him, and Matt turned
his
attention to Marty, bouncing on her lap.

‘Am I
pretty?’ he glowered at the boy, who burst into fits of giggles and covered his
mouth with his fists.

‘You’re
pitty.’

Matt struck
a macho pose. ‘Stunning?’

‘Stung,’
Marty managed to say, squealing with laughter. ‘Handsome beyond belief?’

‘
Hands!’ Marty waved his fists, recognizing the word, and
slid off Camilla’s lap. ‘Kiss, Matt,’ he yelled, running to him,
and Matt lifted him easily into the air, covering the top of his
dark head with noisy kisses, while at the same time his eyes
locked with
Camilla’s.

‘
Kismet,’ he said,
smiling. "That’s exactly what I thought,
Marty. Although she had me worried for a moment when she
said she
had a date with someone else today. Boy, was I relieved when I found out it was
with you.’

‘
Mind he doesn’t
dribble on your jacket,’ said Camilla,
hoping she wasn’t as pink-cheeked
as she thought she was, and
pretending she
hadn’t understood what he was saying. ‘Marty
tends to drool when he gets
excited.’

‘
He’s not the only one.
Listen, I’m ready and you’re not.
Why
don’t I drive Marty back to the hospital, so that you can
have the place
to yourself and you don’t have to hurry? If we
leave now, I’ll be back in an hour and a half and we’ll be in
plenty of
time for the gala. Great idea?’

Camilla, to her horror, felt a lump form in her throat.
Matt’s easy charm, his thoughtfulness, his effortless good humour were almost
too much for her to handle and she thought for a minute that she might burst
into tears of relief. There
were
still some genuinely nice men around.

How many, after all, would invite a woman out for the
first time and not be put out when she turned up with a thoroughly
excitable little boy in tow, furthermore a little
boy who
demanded kisses constantly,
slobbered freely and emptied a
box of fifty golf balls over the
dining-room floor during lunch?

Even now, as she watched the two of
them, Matt didn’t
appear
in the least concerned that Marty’s chocolatey fingers
were clutching at the immaculate
sleeve of his black dinner-
jacket.
Marty — to her, at least — was adorable, but he was also as exhausting as the
London marathon.

But if Matt really didn’t mind, it
would be blissful to sink
into a hot bath and take her time getting ready for the charity
gala later on this evening. She gave him a grateful smile.

‘If you’re sure it wouldn’t be too much trouble . .

‘
No problem. Give me
the address of the hospital and
between
Marty and me and your wonderful British policemen
we’ll find it in no time. I’ll be back by eight o’clock
at the
latest, OK?’

‘Wonderful,’ said Camilla, holding her arms out to Marty. ‘Come
and say goodbye, darling. Give me a big kiss and a hug before you go.’

‘
Mrs Stewart!’
exclaimed Matt, his dark eyebrows shooting
up, his tone deeply shocked. ‘You
brazen woman! I hardly even know you.’

* * *

 
It had been such a
happy
day,
Camilla reminisced as she tilted
her head in order to gauge the line of her eye pencil, gentian
violet merging with the shimmering
Prussian blue which
shaded
the sockets of her eyes and made them seem dramatic
ally larger.

It had been quite a time since she had
enjoyed herself this
much. Marty
had adored every moment too, understanding that the big outside-broadcast
cameras could ‘take his picture’, and
screaming
and waving ecstatically every time he spotted one.
The general good humour of the crowd had helped, of
course,
but Marty had won them over completely, endearing himself to
the camera crew, the caddies and the other
players. What a
normal child was sometimes not quite able to get away
with, a
grinning, riotously happy little
handicapped one still could.
Camilla, aware that everyone assumed she
was Marty’s mother, had scarcely been able to contain her pride and laughter
when
Matt had introduced him into the
conversation while he was
being interviewed on live TV. Marty had
promptly delivered an untidy kiss to the TV commentator’s cheek in full view of
the
cameras. Not many people had called this
particular com
mentator ‘pitty’ in front of eight million viewers.

Matt was unlike anyone she had ever met before in her
life. Only with Nico had she been able to relax to the same degree, some inner
confidence persuading her that her own personality was good enough, and not
something to be slightly ashamed of, which was how she had always felt with
Jack.

But Matt was more forceful than Nico;
an extrovert man
who
was supremely confident with himself and who quite
clearly felt that hiding his own
motives or feelings was an
appalling
waste of time. He wanted her, there was no question
of it, yet Camilla still remembered her past life too vividly not
to
have moments of doubt. Sometimes she forgot how she had
changed and imagined herself as the colourless creature who
had
been cowed by virtually everyone. She needed to see herself in a mirror to
remind herself that those days were past, that she was good enough to merit
such attentions.

But what
would
happen if Matt
continued his bombardment
of her
emotions? Should she go to bed with him or not?

Fresh, too, in her mind was the memory of that single
fateful night with Nico, when she had planned every move and realized only
later – too late – how catastrophic her mistake had been.

So, don’t go to bed with Matt, she silently informed her
reflection in the gold-tinted mirror. Sex hadn’t exactly done her past
relationships many favours; maybe she should learn from
those mistakes. Keep Matt at a safe distance. If he was really
keen,
he wouldn’t give up . . .

Pulling a face at her reflection as
she untwisted a creamy-pink Chanel lipstick, Camilla realized that she sounded
like
every teen-magazine
agony aunt she had ever read during those
long
and painful years of adolescence. The advice might be
good, and it was
all very well, but what nobody was able to take
into consideration was the fact that the man she was supposed
to
be keeping at arm’s length was the redoubtable, irrepressible and quite
irresistible Matt Lewis.

It was a glittering evening. Camilla, entering the vast
mirrored foyer of the hotel on Matt’s arm, was enormously glad that she had
taken the trouble to put her hair up; relieved too that she had
borrowed Loulou’s pre-pregnancy best dress – a
slippery
silk Benny Ong in midnight blue. The colour brought out the
brighter turquoise of her eyes and accentuated the creamy
softness of her skin, and when she glimpsed the reflection of Matt and
herself in the mirrors surrounding them, amidst the
noisy,
expectant crowds of beautifully dressed guests, she
realized with relief
that she looked as if she belonged. Tonight, she was letting no-one down. And
she was going to enjoy every single, special moment of it.

Dinner passed by in a flash. Memories
of her marriage,
during
which she had endured so many official functions
without enjoyment, came back to her
and she recalled them as
if they were misty, distant dreams. It had seemed then that she
had always chosen exactly the wrong thing to wear, had
been
forced to smile bravely at Jack’s barbed
comments when he
pointed out that fact in front of everyone, and had
always been
seated next to someone
dazzlingly witty, so much so that she
was instantly rendered both
speechless and invisible. Not worth talking to, or even noticing.