Having a Ball (31 page)

Walking past the shops in Oxford, she'd seen the cutest cuddly toy bunny
and felt suddenly compelled to buy it for her unborn niece or nephew. She took the
floppy little thing in her hands and stared at it. It looked plaintively back at her.
Over the last few weeks, her ambivalence towards Marsh and Jane's baby had
begun to fade, not least because they'd shown her ultrasound pictures of the tiny
human being that was growing inside Jane's now rounded tummy.

She was going to be an aunty. The idea rather appealed, now that she'd
had time to process it. She could be the cool aunt who appeared at weekends and
played and took the child to interesting and fun places that its parents would never
dream of going to. She didn't know where yet, but she was sure she could be more
creative in her outings and games than her brother. Perhaps having a tiny person to
pour all her love into was the perfect antidote to her broken heart.

She went over to the noticeboard where the photo of her family and the
postcard of Indiana Jones were now happily side by side. "I'm going to be an aunty."
She waved the bunny at them.

For a moment she wondered if she still wanted a family of her own. That
normal family with the house, the pet, the white picket fence that she'd unwittingly
revealed to Tom all those weeks ago. The dream of it was still there, but now
instead of a nameless figure, the man who would have all that with her was Tom.
Somewhere along the line, she'd absorbed him into her dreams.

"It's not to be," she said to the bunny, with a sigh. "I'll just have to wait
until someone else comes along and pops himself into my perfect future." She took
a sip of wine. "I just hope I don't have to wait too long."

She was about to put the bunny safely back in its bag when the doorbell
rang. She wasn't expecting anyone.

"Perhaps it's Mr. Right?" She put her wine glass down and went to open
the door, bunny still in hand.

Tom was standing at the door, looking tanned and heart-stoppingly
handsome. He had one hand tucked behind his back. When he saw her, a huge grin
spread across his face.

Stevie was so surprised she shut the door again. She looked at the bunny,
then threw it in the direction of the sofa and quickly ran her fingers through her
hair. She opened the door again, half expecting to find she'd imagined him.

He was still there. No longer grinning. "Hi."

"Hi."

They stared at each other for a moment. Tom looked good. The desert
sun had turned him a lovely golden shade of brown. His hair was shorter, making
him look less mussed up, but still fabulous. His eyes shone deep blue against his
tan.

Stevie remembered her manners. "Come in." She opened the door wider.
"What are you doing here?"

He followed her in. "I had to come and talk to some people at work."

His reply deflated her spirits. So he was back on business. That figured.
But what was he doing here, in her flat?

He brought out his hidden hand and presented her with a bunch of red
roses. "For you." The grin returned.

"They're lovely." Stevie took them, a little hesitantly. The smell reminded
her of the night in the gazebo.

He looked too pleased with himself. It was almost as though he thought
that a bunch of flowers would make everything okay. A sudden thought popped
into her mind. Perhaps that was what he did with Vienna. A curl of anger added to
the mix of feelings churning inside her.

Tom was shifting his weight from one foot to another. "I got your
email."

So that was it. Her email, sent by mistake. He'd read it and thought that
she was pining after him. So he'd come over to try and seduce her. If he thought he
could get round her that easily with his roses and his tan and his lovely, muscly
arms... Well he had another think coming.

"I'm not Vienna," she blurted.

Tom stopped fidgeting. "What?"

"I'm not Vienna." She thrust the flowers back at him. "You can't just come
round here and give me flowers and expect me to just roll over and pick up where
we left off."

Tom seemed surprised to find himself holding the flowers again. "What
are you talking about?"

"You're here with work and you just thought you'd pop in and see if you
could get a nice night out and a shag while you were in town. Well, I'm not your
little slapper on call. If that's what you want, you may as well just leave now." She
opened the door.

"Stevie..." He moved fast, putting himself between her and the door and
pushing it shut.

"I mean it." Her eyes were full of tears. Something primal inside of her
was screaming that if another one night stand was what he wanted, then dammit
that was what he could have. It took all her willpower not to give in. She had to
remain strong. She wasn't going to be some businessman's mistress. That was a
sure way to end up as a mad cat lady.

He dropped the roses and put his hands on her upper arms. His touch
reminded her of so many nice things those hands could do. She wriggled and
started to protest.

He pulled her to him and kissed her. Not hard, just enough to stop her
talking.

Her mind emptied of all the arguments that had been queuing to get out.
She found herself melting and kissing him back. This wasn't getting her anywhere.
She couldn't just give in at the first delicious kiss. Calling up all her reserve will
power, she pushed him away. "I won't end up a mad cat lady."

He gaped. "What on earth...?"

"Just go, Tom. Please."

"Not until I've said what I came to say."

"But--"

He put a finger to her lips. "Will you just shut up and let me finish."

Caught between his firm hold on her arms and the disturbingly pleasant
sensation of his finger brushing her lips, she nodded.

"I didn't come to London on a business trip. I came to London to tell my
employers I was resigning. I'm leaving Doha and coming back to London."

Stevie stared, unable to comprehend what he was telling her. "But the
dream job--"

"Wasn't such a dream job without you there with me."

"But your job is so important to you."

"It is. And that's why I've accepted another one, with a smaller firm. It's
not as high flying, but it's doing what I love doing and I'll be able to spend time with
you." He looked into her eyes. "I love you."

For the first time in a long time, Stevie was speechless. A bubble of
something she hadn't been aware of carrying burst in her chest.

He had given up his dream job for her. He was coming back. For her.
Tears filled her eyes.

"Tom."

"See," he said, "I came to tell you I love you. Not to seduce you." He
glanced at the flowers lying on the floor. "Well, maybe to seduce you eventually."
He looked back to her. "Okay?"

She nodded.

"Is there anything more you want to ask?"

She shook her head.

"Any more objections?"

She shook her head again and rested her hands against his chest.

He grinned. "Well shut up and kiss me then." He pulled her close and
kissed her. Properly. Stevie slid her arms around his neck and kissed him back.
With his arms around her again, it seemed like all was right with the world. How
could she ever have thought she could live a life without him?

Eventually she led him away to her room, leaving the roses, forgotten, on
the floor.

* * * *

From: Tom Blackwood

To: Dr. Evelyn Blackwood

Dear Mum
Stevie
and I would like to book the house next June. For a whole weekend. As
the venue for a wedding reception.
;-)
Love
Tom

##

From: Dr. Evelyn Blackwood

To: Tom Blackwood
, Stevie Winfield

Tom darling, that is
fantastic news! I am so very proud of you. Of course you can have the
house next June.
I shall have to buy a new
hat.
Evelyn

The End

Rhoda Baxter lives in the north of England with her husband and two children. She lived in Sri
Lanka for many years, and is a big fan of the charity work done there by Project Peds (part of the
World Children's Initiative).

A long time ago, she studied Biochemistry and lived in a house in Oxford that was very similar to
the one described in
Having a Ball
. She shared it with about 25 other students and some nuns,
but that's a whole other story.

Rhoda is a member of the UK Romantic Novelists' Association and her first novel was shortlisted
for their New Writing award in 2012.

You can find out more about Rhoda and her other books on www.rhodabaxter.com. You can also
find her on Facebook or follow her on twitter (@rhodabaxter).

* * * *

Uncial Press brings you extraordinary fiction, non-fiction and poetry. Put a world of
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