Guess Who I Pulled Last Night? (26 page)

“Please take a seat.”  Niall broke her thoughts and
ushered Charlotte to the round oak table at the far end of the room.

Charlotte moved to the table and sat down, watching Niall
carefully as he went through to the kitchen in the back of the cottage. 
As she sat, Charlotte craned her neck to see through the open door, catching
occasional glances of Niall as he moved around the kitchen preparing
lunch.  Within a few minutes, he returned with a tray, carrying two huge
mugs of tea and two plates of beans on toast.  He placed one of each in
front of Charlotte.

“Thank you,” she said.  “That looks lovely.”

“No problem,” he replied, sitting down next to her. 
“Tuck in.”

After lunch, eaten between bouts of discussion about the
cottage, Niall invited Charlotte to take a comfier seat on one of the huge
sofas.

“I must say you certainly have an eye for decorating,” said
Charlotte, plonking herself down heavily.  “Well someone does,” she added
in almost a whisper.

“I enjoy it.”  Niall sat on the opposite sofa. 
“Much more so than soliciting, if you know what I mean?”  They both smiled
at his choice of words.

“So why carry on then, being a solicitor, if you are not
happy?” Charlotte asked, while she carefully scanned the room for a sign of
Ingrid.  She had noticed that there was not one picture of Ingrid around
the place, plenty of what she assumed were Niall’s family, but none of his
fiancée; in fact, there was no sign of her whatsoever.

“Money, plain and simple,” replied Niall.  “I’m afraid
that painter and decorators don’t get the sort of money that I have
unfortunately become used to.”

“So, what time is Ingrid due back?”  Charlotte changed
the subject dramatically, desperate to confirm her thoughts.

“She won’t.”  Niall looked at her quizzically, confused
by her sudden question as they had not mentioned Ingrid at all. 

“Oh, why is that, is she working away from home?” 
Charlotte was not going to give up.

Niall shook his head.  “Charlotte stop worrying. She
won’t be arriving.  This is Ingrid’s night for playing Bridge, anyway she
doesn’t live here.”

“She doesn’t?” Charlotte attempted to hide the smile that
was moving across her lips.

“God no, I put my foot down there.  This may sound a
little sexist or selfish, or maybe both, but she doesn’t even have a
key.”  He smiled at the look of astonishment on Charlotte’s face.  “I
told her that it was on the grounds of religion.”  Niall laughed, but it
was an empty laugh, with a shadow crossing his face.

Charlotte felt a little guilty about pushing the subject of
Ingrid’s habitat, but had needed to know.  She decided to change the
subject, but the first thing that came into her head was Grant.  

“So, remind me how you know Grant.”  Charlotte’s
stomach lurched as his name escaped her lips, confounded at why she would even
think about him after their last meeting. 

“As I told you in Paul’s office, he’s a friend of my
Managing Director, or should I say Ingrid.”  Niall dropped his head at the
mention of Ingrid’s name.  “I wouldn’t say that he and I are friends, more
associates, although I do see a lot of him.  He’s also a good friend of
Ingrid’s brother, Richard, whom I play Sunday football with, so we tend to
socialise with the same people.”  As he spoke Niall noticed Charlotte turn
her face away.  “Was it a bad relationship?” he asked tenderly.

Charlotte’s brow became etched with deep furrows. 
“What do you think?  Is your relationship with Ingrid good?” Now it was
Niall’s turn to look away.  “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to pry. It's just
that I get rather bitchy when I think about him.  I don’t know why I
mentioned him; the tosser!”

Niall smiled broadly.  “Now that’s the Charlotte I have
got to know.”  His voice was almost a whisper as he continued. “You’re
okay. I pried first.  However, to answer your question, no, not
particularly,” he said glumly.

Charlotte watched him playing with the arm of the sofa,
realising how sad he looked.  “You really aren’t happy at all are you?”
she asked; Niall shook his head.

“Nope, but don’t think that’s why you and I are sitting here
today, or why we kissed.”  Niall ran a hand across his head.  “I know
it sounds ridiculous, but I didn’t realise that I was unhappy, not until that
day that we went for lunch.  I enjoyed your company so much; you have been
like a blast of sunlight in my life.”

Charlotte was aghast at what she was hearing; she hadn’t
imagined that he would feel this strongly.  “But you don’t know me Niall,
all we’ve ever done is argue, except for a drunken Christmas snog.”

“I know it’s crazy isn’t it?  I don’t know how to
explain it.  When I first met you, I was angry at myself for fancying you
when I had Ingrid, but I excused it by putting it down to male hormones. 
In fact, I congratulated myself on still being a bit of a lad, but the more I
thought about you the more confused I became.  I was so angry with myself
that I’m afraid that I took it out on you.”

Charlotte grinned, recollecting some of their run-ins. 
“So, what are we to do Mr Devine?”

Niall moved across to sit next to Charlotte, taking her
small hand in his large one.  “I don’t know Miss Price, what are we to
do?”

“It’s your call Niall, you’re the one with the
fiancée.  However, whatever you decide you have to be sure it’s what you
really want, don’t forget that you work for her company.  That’s going to
be a problem in itself,” Charlotte answered as sensibly as she could, forcing
herself not to suggest that they have a wild passionate affair.

Niall let go of her hand; he stood up and leaned against the
large stone fireplace, his back to Charlotte.  “Yeah, don’t I know it, but
if the worst happens, I can always do some painting and decorating.”  He
laughed, but Charlotte could sense that he wasn’t smiling.

She wanted to go to him, and put her arms around him, but
she knew that they shouldn’t risk doing anything to cloud either of their
judgments.

Niall turned back to face her, running a hand through his hair
leaving it standing in boyish spikes.  “I’m going to tell her.  Even
if, God forbid, things don’t work out between me and you, I still need to
finish things with her.  Yer right, I’m not happy with her, whether I’ve
got you in my life or not.  So,” he asked, “are you willing to give you
and me a go then?” He crouched down, taking hold of her hand once more.

“Niall this is mad, you hardly know me,” she cried, pulling
their hands to her chest.  “In fact, fact we don’t know each other at all;
we could hate each other within a week.  We’ve had one kiss, well a few
kisses, and yes they were fantastic, but you can hardly base your future on
it.”

Niall was smiling widely now; he reached up cupping
Charlotte’s face in his hand, his silver thumb ring cold on her cheek.

“It doesn’t matter what you say, I know how I feel in this
moment and how I’ve felt since that day, at lunch, probably since I met
you.  I’ve told you I can’t get you out of my head, so why should I keep
trying?  If fate means us to be happy, we will be if it doesn’t then so be
it, but I for one am not ready to spend the rest of my life regretting not
giving it a try.  So Miss Price, are yer willing to give it a go?” he
asked insistently.

Charlotte almost melted, as she looked into his flashing,
expectant eyes.  “I’ve got nothing to lose, except my heart again, so I
suppose it wouldn’t hurt would it?”

“Grand girl, I knew that I could persuade you.”  Niall
once more sat beside Charlotte, leaning forward in order to kiss her.

Charlotte put her hand up to stop him getting any
closer.  “No Niall, not until things are sorted.  I don’t want to
hold you to ransom, but I can’t risk feeling crap again, like I did all
Christmas."  Niall looked at her questioningly.  “Yes you’ve
battered my head as well.  I was plastered all Christmas, just to blot out
any thoughts of you and Ingrid.  You see I was absolutely hooked too,
probably from that first day, so I’m sorry, but I can’t take the risk in case
it doesn’t happen.”  Tears pricked her eyes, as Charlotte remembered the
ache within her heart over Christmas.

“I’m sorry I didn’t realise.  I understand how you
feel, but I promise that by the end of the week, I will have told
Ingrid.”  He leaned across and gently kissed the end of Charlotte’s
nose.  “That will have to do until then.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.  “I think that I should go
before I break resolve.”  Charlotte stood up, and smoothed down her
jumper.  Every part of her body wanted to stay and spend the night with
him, longing to wake up in his arms the next day, but she had to be strong; the
awkwardness of Grant’s last visit still haunting her.

“Okay, can I call you tomorrow,” he asked questioningly.

Charlotte shook her head.  “No, call me when it’s all
over.” She clutched her head with both her hands.  “Urgh, this is
horrible, why can’t life be simple?”

Niall forced a smile.  “Because it isn’t; not where
matters of the heart are concerned.  Like my ma says, 'hearts would be
made of iron if they weren’t meant to be broken,' no, not very comforting is
she?”

As Charlotte walked into the cold evening air, Niall caught
hold of her elbow, slowly turning her around to face him.  “Are yer sure
that I can’t give you a little kiss?” he asked, gazing deeply into her eyes.

“Nope, I’m not sure, but I reckon it’s best if you
don’t.  Bye then and hopefully I’ll see you soon,” she answered, walking
away.

“You will, and be careful driving home. I don’t want
anything to happen to you, and I will call you soon; I promise.”

Charlotte grinned widely and blew him a kiss, then getting
into her car she sped off before she gave in and ran back into the cottage.

She was glad that she hadn’t rung Tom and tempted fate,
because if she had she may not have been feeling as happy as she was now. 
She oozed confidence as she walked to the bar to meet her brother and his
friends, turning the heads of the early evening revellers.  She wouldn’t
tell anybody about today, not until it was official, then she would shout it
out to anyone who would listen.  This was going to happen. She could feel
it; it had to happen.  She hadn’t felt like this when she first met
Grant.  Niall was all she could think of, these last few days, since
Christmas, she’d put a show on for Bets and everyone else.  All the
business with Kerry had kept her mind off him in the daylight hours, but when
night came she had been going to bed early, closing her eyes tight shut
reliving every moment, every conversation, and every look that passed between,
forcing dreams of Niall into her sleep.  Now though she didn’t have to
dream, unless fate dealt them a heavy blow, she would be living her every
fantasy with Niall.  That was as long as fate, and Ingrid, played by the
rules.

It was a very cold, damp Wednesday evening, and Bets was not
happy.  She was going to a local hotel to do a make-up demonstration,
specifically for brides to be.  Bets just wanted to curl up in front of
the fire and watch T.V., not spend hours discussing which eye shadow would
match the bride’s bouquet; at least, Tom would be keeping her company. It was
payback time.   The Bridal Fair organiser asked that she do a session
on bridegroom facials, and Tom was going to be her Guinea pig.  Tom wasn’t
very happy about it; he’d had a chance of a date with a girl whom he’d met in
the pub.  She had been anxious to repeat their drunken fumbling of the
previous evening, and Tom was most put out that he would have to put her on
hold.

“Look, you offered, so don’t blame me!” Bets blasted at him,
sick and tired of hearing him moaning for the last ten minutes.

“Offered, offered is that what you call it.  I was
forced into this?”  Tom trailed behind her, as Bets strode through the
hotel reception.

“Yes, like I was forced into dressing and making up a bunch
of jumped-up  models, and like I was forced into spending a nightmare
evening with Des the prat, or like I was forced into spending a night in
something reminiscent of the iceberg that sank the titanic, no, I didn’t think
so Thomas!”  Bets frowned as Tom looked petulantly at her.

He really was a spoilt brat at times, and Bets could see now
why Charlotte used to press hot tea spoons on the back of his legs.  So a
sulky silence fell, and remained that way, while Tom helped Bets set up her
display and demonstration area.  He did perk up slightly when the bridal
gown models arrived, flashing his most enigmatic smile as they wandered past.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” he asked, breaking the
silence.

“If you are hoping to catch a glimpse of the models, then
you’d best get me a white wine from the bar? I think they all went in
there.”  Bets didn’t look at him.

“Okay, I won’t be long,” he called over his shoulder. 
The words were barely out of Bets' mouth before he started to make his way to
the bar.

Tom had been gone for at least ten minutes, when the hotel
manager came over.  He was very handsome and about Bets age, and the
feeling that he created in the pit of Bet’s stomach surprised her. 

“Hello Miss Dobbs, I hope that you’ve got everything that
you need.”  He smiled warmly at Bets.

“Yes thank you.  How many people are you expecting?” 
She licked her lips, and shook her hair back, her automatic flirting actions
returning voluntarily.

“Ooh about fifty.  If everything goes well we’re going
to run a bigger all-day event in the summer months.  Anyway, I must get on
perhaps we could have a drink later; once it’s all over by way of celebration
for a job well done.”  He smiled again, this time placing a hand beneath
her elbow; Bets shivered in delight.

“Definitely, I look forward to it.”  At that moment Tom
returned, shoving a glass in Bets face.  “Oh hi Tom, Tom this is…” She
glanced at the lapel badge on his jacket.  “Michael, the hotel manager,
Michael this is Tom my assistant.”

Tom opened his mouth to protest, but noticed the warning
look on Bet’s face and thought better of it.  “Nice to meet you Michael,”
he said thrusting out a hand; Michael took it and pumped it up and down with
strength.

“Nice to meet you Tom, I must say that you have a very
charming beautiful lady boss there.” He turned to Bets. “Well we’ll meet later
then, bye for now.”

Toms gasped in amazement.  “Bloody hell, I’ve only been
gone for a few minutes, and you’ve already sorted out your next conquest!” He
handed Bets her drink, tutting loudly.

“So I take it you weren’t so lucky then?” Bets asked,
caustically.

Tom, choosing to ignore her, preferred instead to look
through the nail varnishes on display.

The makeover session went well, and Bets had got the salon
three wedding day bookings and two pre wedding facials.  All the time that
Bets was doing the makeover on Julie, the volunteer bride, Michael the hotel
manager stood close by; watching her every move.  Bets was enjoying the
attention, enjoying having a man’s eyes on her again.  She began to feel
excited about the possibilities to come.  As she glanced at Michael,
thoughts of Stuart entered her head, and the usual dull ache came into her
stomach.   Bets shook her head. She couldn’t mourn him forever, but
she didn’t know whether she was ready just yet to move on; perhaps Michael
could be her guideline.

When it was Tom’s turn to sit in the chair Michael left to
deal with a bride and groom who wished to book a reception in the hotel. 
Bets was disappointed, but she knew that he would be back.

“Right ladies and gentlemen, with the help of my ASSISTANT
Tom, I’m going to show you how the groom can receive some pampering too. 
Tom if you’d like to take a seat.”  Bets pointed to the chair where Tom
was to sit.

She wasn’t asking, but was telling him.  Tom sat down
dutifully and waited for Bets to begin.  She started by massaging Tom’s
face; trying to smooth out the tension that he was obviously feeling at lying
back wearing a towel around his shoulders and a sweat band on his head. 
The sweatband wasn’t truly necessary, Tom didn’t have an awful lot of hair to
keep away from his face, but it looked stupid so Bets had rammed it hard onto
his head.  As she moved her fingers adeptly around his face, Bets realised
what wonderful bone structure he had.  He had classic high cheekbones and
a strong, square chin, and those eyes. Boy would she love to make up eyes like
those.  She was halfway through, explaining how important it was for men
to cleanse, tone and moisturise as well as women, when she started to be
drowned out by a loud snorting noise coming from Tom.  The gathered crowd
started to giggle, looking down at the ground with embarrassment for
Bets.  She looked over the top of Tom’s head to find him fast asleep and
snoring to his heart’s content.

“So now you can see exactly how relaxing this can be,” she
joked.

The crowd relaxed and started to laugh louder, glad that
Bets was now in on the joke.  Bets laughed too but didn’t let them see her
pinching Tom’s earlobe.  Tom, startled, shot up from his reclined
position, grabbing the arms on the chair.

“Wha’, where am I?” he gasped looking anxiously around the
room.  As he saw the crowd in front of him, he remembered where he
was.  He turned shame faced to Bets, pulling the sweat band from his head.

“I’m so sorry. I must have dozed off.  God it was very
relaxing, I didn’t realise what good fingers you had Bets.”

The brides and grooms laughed even louder now helping to
broaden the smile on Tom’s face.  Not one to miss out on an audience Tom
lay back in the chair and closed his eyes tightly.

“Wake me up at seven, would you?” he whispered, getting
himself comfy.

Bets tried not to smile, but she couldn’t help herself and
looking sullen could alienate her prospective customers.

“Well as Tom is bedding down for the night, I think we
should finish there, however, I’m sure you will all agree his skin is now
absolutely glowing.”  Not that there was much wrong with it before, she
thought, as she began to move away towards her appointment book on a nearby
table.

She thought that the response from the brides had been good,
but she was totally blown away when twelve grooms and one father to the bride,
booked in for facials at The Beauty Box.  She flashed Tom a look that
should have frightened him to death, but he just smiled brilliantly at her, his
eyes flashing brightly.  She smiled back and shook her head.

“Well they seemed to like that, didn’t they?” Tom said, once
the crowd had dispersed.

“Yes, no thanks to you.”  Bets thumped him on the arm,
not gently.

“Successful evening?” a voice behind them asked.  It
was Michael who had escaped from the fashion show.  Bets nodded. 
“Good, the hotel has done well too, so I think that drink is definitely called
for, if that’s okay with you?”

“Sure that would be lovely,” Bets sighed, gazing deeply into
his eyes.

Neither of them noticed Tom, who was standing next to
Bets.  “Excuse me Bets,” he coughed politely.  “Should I start
loading your car?”  Bets nodded silently and fished the keys out of her
pocket, all the time looking at Michael.  “Thanks.”  Tom took the keys
and walked off to start dismantling Bets display.

After twenty minutes of going in and out of the cold, rainy
evening, Tom went back to the couple, chatting animatedly.  He could see
from the look in Bets’ eyes that she was on the rampage again, but he knew that
by tomorrow Michael would probably turn out to be totally unsuitable, and she
would never want to see him again. 

“Here are your key's Bets.”  He dropped them into Bets'
open hand as she paused in her conversation with Michael.

“Oh thanks Tom, and thanks again for tonight.  Do you
want a lift home?” she asked, somewhat cautiously.

“No,” he cried.  “I’ve got a date at the pub down the
road, so no thanks.”

“Okay, well see you soon then.”

Tom waved his good-byes as he walked out into the cold night
air towards the bus stop to catch a bus home.

The next morning, Tom was proved right; Michael was deemed
to be totally unsuitable.  After having a drink with each other in the
bar, Bets and Michael made their way to his room within the hotel. They had made
polite conversation, the sort two people made before they were going to have
sex; name, age and marital status and then they went to bed.  The sex
hadn’t been the best that Bets had ever had, but it was fun, and it was great
to have some physical contact with someone else again.  Bets had thought
about Stuart briefly in the throes of passion, but it was a happy thought, not
sad or guilty.  She smiled with the memory of their time together and
realised how lucky she had been.   Bets and Michael had a good time,
but now that morning was here they were both anxious to get away.  The
fact that Michael felt the same way as Bets peeved her a little at first, she
was used to men wanting to spend the rest of their lives with her, but she soon
snapped out of it; glad that there were no awkward excuses to be made.  So
they left each other on good terms, with a peck on the cheek and thanks for a
good evening.

After a quick visit home to shower and check Alfred had been
okay with Charlie, Bets went to the salon.  She was surprised to see
Charlotte there.

“Hiya, what are you doing here, shouldn’t you be at
work?”  She walked past Charlotte to check the time of her first
appointment.

“I’m going in this afternoon. I'm working from home this
morning, but seeing as I managed to get all my work done last night, I thought
that I would visit you.  Have you got time for a quick chat?” Charlotte
looked worried about something, which in turn worried Bets.

“Sure, I haven’t got an appointment for half an hour.” 
Bets walked into her beauty room and flung the door open.  “I won’t be a
minute I just need to check that the girls are okay.” And apologise for being
late, she failed to add.

After a few minutes, Bets returned to find Charlotte pacing
up and down. “What’s the matter?” she asked, placing a comforting hand on
Charlotte’s shoulder.  “It’s not Kerry is it?”

Charlotte shook her head.  “No, it’s me.  I
promised myself that I wasn’t going to say anything, in case I tempted fate,
but I can’t hold out much longer.”  She attempted a smile, but her eyes
were watery and her mouth simply turned up at the ends.

“Well go on,” Bets urged.

“I met Niall for lunch on Tuesday, and he’s going to finish
his relationship with his fiancée and we are going to see how things go between
us,” she gushed, without pausing for breath.

“Oh my God!” Bets cried.  “Did you sleep with him?”

“Bets, is that all you think of?  If you must know, no
I didn’t.  It was hard not to though, we went back to his cottage to
talk.  Apparently, I’ve battered his head, and he can’t stop thinking
about me.”

Bets shrieked so shrilly that Charlotte feared for all the
mirrors in the salon.

“Oh Charlotte, that’s fantastic, so what are you going to
do, when is he going to tell her?”  Bets asked, pulling Charlotte onto a
chair next to her.

“I don’t know to both questions.  I just hope that he
tells her soon.  I said I didn’t want to have any contact with him, until
it was over, but not seeing him, or speaking to him...well it is driving me
mad.”

Bets placed a hand on Charlotte’s knee.  “Give him
chance Charlotte, don’t forget he works for her company as well as being her
fiancé. It's a big thing that he’s about to do.  He can’t just go in there
and say, “Oh, by the way, Ingrid.  I'm leaving you, because I fancy the
hell out of the woman we’ve done millions of pounds worth of business with.””

Charlotte sighed deeply and nodded her head.  She knew
that Bets was right, but it didn’t stop her having a bad feeling about it
all.  She had been sure that Niall would have at least telephoned her to
say hello, but she had heard nothing at all.

“I know what you are saying Bets, but a quick “hello, how
are you?” would have been nice.  Do you think it’s because I wouldn’t let
him kiss me, perhaps he’s changed his mind and thinks that I’m frigid?”

Bets stared at her open mouthed.  “What, not even a
little snog?”

Charlotte shook her head.  “I didn’t want to risk
falling into bed with him. It wouldn’t have been right, what with him having a
fiancée.”

“Exactly, he’s the one with the fiancée, so why should you
worry?  He won’t think that you are frigid you daft bint, what about
Christmas?  From what you told me, you needed a bucket of water throwing
over the pair of you to dampen your ardour.  No I’m sure that he
understands your reasons.  If he doesn’t, he isn’t worth it anyway. 
Be patient, he will be in touch when he can, give it until the end of the week,
and if he hasn’t called you could ring him on some business pretext.”