His Perfect Bride? (16 page)

It was getting awkward. Already.

Lula grimaced her way through the afternoon, determined more than ever that she was right to keep her distance from Olly.

* * *

The casserole was simmering nicely, and rich, meaty smells filled the James household. Patrick had opened a bottle of red and prepared a selection
of soft drinks for Lula, who was on call that evening.

She arrived about fifteen minutes late and drifted into Olly’s kitchen wearing her belly-dancing paraphernalia. Once again he was treated to the sight of her trim waist, with her belly button jewel twinkling in the firelight. Her bangles clinked and jingled, giving off a musical noise every time she moved, and she wore the most amazing skirt, that appeared to be made of some sort of wafting fabric that floated about her body as she walked.

He tried not to stare, but it was difficult.

‘You’re going to be on call wearing
that
?’

He could just imagine the reactions of some of the elderly male patients when she turned up wearing a skirt with a huge split up the side. He remembered what it had felt like to slide his fingers up the length of her legs and had to swallow hard and pretend he was checking the roast potatoes in the oven.

Since last night he’d not been able to think straight. She was in his head no matter which way he turned. She was at work, she was in his home, but always just out of reach. And he was sensing she really wanted to keep him there. Out of reach. And here she was again, looking all petite and beautiful and alluring, and all he could think of was sweeping her up into his arms and
whisking her away up the stairs. Leaving his dad to eat the casserole alone whilst he and Lula enjoyed each other once more.

And it wasn’t just the sex, he kept telling himself. It was Lula herself. She had no idea how amazing she was—the type of person she was. Her quirky traits, her unique look. They were all things he would never have normally been attracted to, but with Lula it was different. He
was
attracted to her—there was no denying that. There were strong feelings—he couldn’t help those, either—but she was keeping him at a distance and he wasn’t sure why.

There were the obvious reasons, of course. They were work colleagues. They were in a small village where gossip ran rife, and neither of them needed to be the main topic on the Atlee Wold grapevine.

But he sensed there was something more and he couldn’t quite grasp it.

Was she being the sensible one? Last night had been amazing, and even though he felt guilty about taking advantage it hadn’t stopped him craving her touch once again. They’d shared a lingering kiss, but she’d been quick to say they were both adults, that she wasn’t his type, that she would never marry, and that he was after some sort of traditional wife.

Why did she always bring it back to that? As if
a woman being a wife and mother were the only things that mattered to him?

Because it wasn’t just that. Maybe he’d once thought so, but Rachel had changed all that. Having an abortion without telling him she’d even been pregnant, and then walking out on him without giving him a chance to say goodbye or even discuss why they were breaking up.

It had caused him to rethink life. And, yes, he’d been playing it safe—because by doing that he’d thought he could control the outcome. If he went out with someone who was a safe option then he wouldn’t get hurt.

That was the basics of it.

He didn’t want the pain he’d experienced before. He didn’t want the agony of that.

And Lula wasn’t a safe option. She was her own person—bright, funny, a risk-taker, a challenger of the norms, someone who’d made no promises to stay.

But Lula also had a way of changing the world. Even his dad had said so.

She looked down at herself, removing the coin-edged skirt that had been moulding the soft curve of her bottom, letting loose the floaty fabric that caressed the length of her legs.

‘No—sorry. Can I pop upstairs to get changed? I didn’t get time at the hall.’

‘Of course.’

Patrick led her upstairs to show her where to get changed and Olly watched them go, jealous of how his dad’s hand rested so easily—unthinkingly—in the small of Lula’s back.

Jealous?
He blinked the feeling away and concentrated on preparing the gravy for the meal. Why was he jealous? That was his
father
, for crying out loud! Lula hadn’t committed to Olly, had she? It was her quintessential spirit of being free and life-affirming that intrigued him. She had no roots. Well, not yet. She might find some tomorrow, if Elizabeth Love was the woman she was looking for.

And what then? Surely if Elizabeth
was
Lula’s mother then Lula would stay in Atlee Wold? And if she stayed there’d be a chance for him to be with her?

But what if Elizabeth
wasn’t
her mother? Would Lula stay?

He endeavoured to ask her at some point. Maybe when his father left later and they were alone together.

Lula came downstairs wearing gorgeous tight black jeans and an off-the-shoulder red top. He tried not to look at the delicate dip where her neck met her chest, or at the long, slow curve of her collarbone. She’d enjoyed him kissing her there…

He blinked and offered her a drink. She took an orange juice and sat at the table as he served up.

‘So, were there many at your class this evening?’ he asked.

She nodded. ‘Yes, I’m pleased to say. Three more people than last time.’

‘That’s good,’ Patrick interjected. ‘You’ve really aroused the spirit of the older generation in this village, Lula. You’re just what
some
people needed.’ He glanced at his son across the table. ‘A breath of fresh air.’

She smiled and thanked him for his compliment.

‘It’s true, my dear! Even my Oliver has perked up since your arrival. For a long time I thought the poor lad was going to end up just like me.’

Olly looked at his father. ‘What’s wrong with being like you?’

‘Nothing—if having a limited world is what you want. If Atlee Wold is to be the centre of your universe. There’s such a big world out there, son, and I’ve always wanted you to experience it.’

It was the first time he’d heard his father speak like this.

‘I know you felt a great sense of pressure about coming into the practice. Because of me and your grandad before you. If you wanted to do that, that’s fine. But I’d really like to think there’s more out there for you.’

‘Dad, I—’

‘It’s okay, son. You’ll never disappoint me.’

Olly looked stuck for something to say. His father’s comments had come out of the blue.

Patrick smiled, a twinkle in his eyes. ‘Can’t a father look out for his son? Well,
I
can. Especially when I can see what’s good for you.’ He turned to Lula. ‘Although I, for one, hope that
you
consider staying on in Atlee Wold, Lula.’

Lula didn’t appear to be blushing, but she did seem pleased at his father’s words.

‘I haven’t made any definite plans yet, Patrick.’

Olly pulled the casserole pot from the oven and set it in the centre of the table, removing the lid, allowing a plume of steam to swirl up to the ceiling and mouth-watering aromas to set them all salivating.

They set to the meal readily, all of them hungry, and pretty soon there were three empty plates and three full bellies. Patrick went into the living room whilst Olly and Lula cleared away the dishes. She scraped and rinsed the plates, and he set them in the dishwasher.

‘Thanks, but you’re meant to be my guest—not helping me do domestic duties.’

‘Oh, I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty.’

He agreed. She’d certainly not shirked any work since she’d been here. ‘How are you feeling about tomorrow? Nervous?’

Lula nodded. ‘A bit. Everything could change, couldn’t it?’

‘And if she
is
your mother? What then?’

Lula stood still, her hands dripping water, before drying them on a towel. ‘I don’t allow myself to think that far ahead.’

‘But you must have imagined it? Finding her?’

‘Yes, but I find if I try and imagine a conversation it never goes the way I heard it in my mind and I don’t want to be disappointed.’

No. He hated to think of her being upset. Devastated and crying. Just the idea of it set his stomach churning and had him fighting the urge to hold her. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and hold her close. Protect her from anything that could do her harm—emotionally or physically.

‘What time shall we go over there?’

‘Well, your dad has the morning surgery, so I thought about ten? We should be back for the afternoon surgery, then, with plenty of time.’

‘I hope you get what you want, Lula. I hope you find her.’

Lula looked at him steadily. He could see that her eyes were glazed, almost as if she might be about to cry. How easy it would be to take a step past the open dishwasher and hold her!

‘Thank you, Olly.’

They finished off in the kitchen and went into the living room to have coffee with Patrick. Then Patrick said goodnight to them both and went off to meet up with his friends down at the local pub.

When he was gone Lula sat next to Olly on the couch, staring into the open fire. There was something hypnotic about the flames. Something soothing. And somehow, without realising how it came to happen, he realised that he had his arm about her shoulders and she was leaning into his chest.

She was a comforting weight against him and he looked down at her, staring at her amazing hair and at how all the colours blended so beautifully into one another, and how the firelight flickered and played off them. He could inhale the scent of her shampoo…

I could take her face in my hand and turn her to kiss me…

She turned and looked at him, startling him with the intensity in her eyes. It was almost magical, as if she’d heard his thoughts and granted his wishes. They said no words. They didn’t have to. He could read everything he needed to in her beautiful large brown eyes. Pools of molten chocolate he would happily swim in…

He couldn’t help himself… His gaze dropped to her lips. Her beautiful lips. Full and sensuously curved. Bubblegum pink and innately kissable…

He lowered his face to hers and saw her eyes close as she welcomed his mouth on hers. Their kiss was of exquisite beauty. Her lips melted against his and he felt her fingers in his hair. He
heard her soft sigh as she turned to press herself against him.

Heat fired instantly in his groin and he fought its desire for instant gratification. He told himself that this time he would take it slowly and enjoy each delicious moment they were together. He’d sensed her trying to put distance between them. Sensed her stepping away. Well, if this was the last time he’d get to be with her then he was going to treasure every moment…

His arms held her tightly against him and her breathing became heavy. Their kisses deepened and he found himself stroking her skin, allowing his hands to roam her body. Their clothes were in the way. He wanted to touch her skin.

He wanted
her
. Not just in a physical sense. It was more than just sex. It was almost about consuming her. Touching, tasting, feeling everything that she was. Absorbing her into his very being.

Lula leaned back and pulled off her top, then began to tackle his shirt buttons. His mouth dropped to the gentle swell of her breasts, to the pert, taut nipples peaking beneath the lace of her bra.

How easy it would be just to rip it away…

Olly restrained himself, however. His fingers found the clip at the back and released it. The bra hit the floor and his hands cupped her, brought her to his mouth. His tongue teased and licked
and his teeth nibbled gently, causing pain and pleasure at the same time, and her groans were like music to his ears. He filled his mouth with her.

She pulled off his shirt and began tackling his trousers. He tried to undo her jeans, but they were so tight they both stopped to laugh as she helped him undo them, and then they, too, were off and discarded upon the floor.

Olly gazed at the beautiful length of her. At her sex obscured by a small piece of flimsy red lace. She was amazing. Gorgeous. If he had an artistic bone in his body he would want to draw her, paint her as she lay in repose. Each brushstroke an imagined caress. That way he could look at her like that for as long as he wanted.

But she held out her arms, drawing him to her, and he fell upon her like a rabid wolf, his mouth consuming her, ravishing her, tasting her flesh and her scent as he peeled away the wisp of lacy underwear.

And there she lay. His beautiful Lula. Naked in his living room before the open fire. His mouth met hers once again. Her groaning almost sent him over the edge. He wanted her so badly.

He felt her flesh slip and slide beneath his touch, her nipples hardening as she ground herself against him, and then she gasped, arching her back, clutching herself against him, and he just
knew in his heart that he wanted to experience that with her again and again and again.

She’d got beneath his skin…there was no denying it.

She was his beautiful, amazing Lula Chance, and if he got to be with her every day and know that she was his every night then he would be a very happy man.

Was it love? He didn’t know. Maybe. It had happened quickly, if it was. He’d only ever committed himself like that to someone once before, and that had been a long time ago. So he wasn’t sure, but he thought that maybe it did feel that way.

The last time he’d fallen in love it had been a disaster. He’d convinced himself that Rachel was the woman for him—perfect in every way, the perfect partner for a country village GP—but she hadn’t been. He’d imposed his own expectations on to her and thought she would be what he wanted her to be. But she’d had other ideas. She’d been a free spirit, very much a city girl who didn’t want to be tied down, the way he’d expected.

And wasn’t Lula the same? A free spirit who might leave him?

Dismissing the doubt, he slid into her all the way, feeling her heat along the length of him, the taste of her still on his tongue, her soft skin beneath his fingers. He moved gently. Slowly at
first, then quicker and harder, until the breath was escaping from him in bursts. He came in a shattering gasp, collapsing on top of her, his breath at her neck—her delicious neck, with that gentle dip and the collarbone that had intrigued him so much earlier.