Rumor Has It (9 page)

    And now dinner was going tits up too.

    Was somebody up there trying to tell her something?

    No, she mustn't think like that. Fergus had left his marriage six months ago; she wasn't doing anything wrong. And he was worth it. What were a few cuts and burns compared with the chance to impress the man of your dreams?

    Erin collected herself; it was ten to eight and Fergus would be here soon. All she had to do now was concentrate, baste the chicken, and slice up the zucchini, preferably without chopping her fingers off.

    The doorbell rang at eight on the dot. As she let him into the flat, her heart was hammering against her ribs.

    Between kisses, Erin said, 'You didn't stand me up.'

    'I'd never stand you up.' Fergus enveloped her in a hug.

    And that was the brilliant thing; she knew he wouldn't. God knew, she'd had her share of relationships with tricky, mercurial, hard-to-keep men during her university years; she was over that now. Fergus was someone you could trust and rely on. He was utterly dependable. Maybe when she'd been eighteen it was a quality she might have laughed at, but at twenty-eight, dependability had turned into something of an aphrodisiac.

    'Come on in.' Erin led him into the flat, still super-aware of her heart hammering away. Did Fergus know that tonight was
the
night? Did the fact that she'd invited him round for the evening and was cooking him a proper dinner imply that the rest would follow? Was he wondering if it might happen or did he know for sure? It was one of those questions you couldn't just blurt out, just as she hadn't been able to say casually to Fergus, 'Oh, and by the way, when you come over for dinner on Thursday we'll have sex afterwards, if that's all right with you.'

    
If
he wanted to.

    Yerk,
that
hadn't occurred to her before now. What if it wasn't all right with him? What if he looked horrified and said, 'Actually, would you mind awfully if we didn't?'

    Erin swallowed. God, something else to worry about. Although let's face it, she'd never yet met a man who'd said no.

    'Fantastic smell.'

    'It's roast chicken.'

    He shook his head. 'Nope.'

    'Oh. Red wine sauce.'

    'Not that either. It's you.' Fergus flashed his lopsided boyish smile. 'You're the one who smells fantastic.'

    She was wearing her favorite perfume. Jo Malone's Pomegranate Noir. Erin felt all warm inside; wait until she got him into bed and he discovered she'd sprayed it on the sheets.

'That was brilliant.' Finishing his dinner, Fergus pushed his plate to one side and gave her hand a squeeze. 'Clever girl. Thank you.'

    'It's a miracle we could eat any of it, the way you kept putting me off.' Erin loved his hearty appetite; it had been hard to concentrate on cooking with Fergus in the kitchen. Distracted, she'd sprinkled sugar instead of salt into the red wine sauce but by happy accident this hadn't done it any harm. And if Gordon Ramsay had been here, he might complain that the zucchini had been fried in butter for too long, but… well, that was why she'd invited Fergus for dinner and not the ultra-picky celebrity chef.

    'I like putting you off.' Fergus grinned, then pulled a face as his phone burst into life.

    'You'd better answer it,' said Erin. 'Might be work.'

    'I'm not being dragged out this evening. Not for any client.' Leaning back on his chair and reaching behind him for his discarded jacket, Fergus located the still-ringing mobile. When he saw who was calling, he grimaced again and glanced across at Erin. But he didn't answer it and the next moment the ringing stopped.

    'Work?'

    'No. No one important.'

    'Pudding?' Relieved, Erin collected the plates.

    Fergus relaxed. 'Now that's what I call important.'

    'Let's hope I didn't put salt in it.' Bee-eep went the phone in Fergus's hand, indicating that a message had been left. He put it down on the table.

    'Aren't you going to listen to your message?'

    'Nope.' He broke into a smile. 'I told you, it's my evening off. Let me give you a hand with those plates.'

    As they were eating their lemon syrup pudding, the phone rang again. This time Fergus switched it off before calmly helping himself to more cream.

    'One of your other girlfriends?' Erin meant it jokily but regret ted it the moment the words were out of her mouth; not only might Fergus think she was revealing a jealous, possessive side, but she was actually implying that
she
was his girlfriend. Presumptuous or what? She waved her fork apologetically. 'Sorry. Just ignore me.'

    'Hey, don't worry. As if I could ignore you anyway.' Fergus shook his head. 'I've loved these last few weeks. You have no idea how much.' He paused, mentally replayed what he'd just said, then blurted out, 'Oh God, now it's my turn. That sounds as if I'm telling you it's all over. I'm not, I promise. In fact, quite the opposite. I think you're fantastic… Shit, look at me, getting all flustered and tongue-tied. This never happens at work. Ask me to sell a house and I can do it, no problem. But here with you, trying to tell you how I feel… well, I suppose I'm out of practice.'

    Erin couldn't eat anymore. 'It doesn't matter.'

    'It
does
. I really like you.' Fergus hesitated, the tips of his ears going pink. 'A lot.'

    For a mad moment Erin wanted to burst into tears of happiness. But that would definitely be enough to scare him off. Gazing into his eyes—bluish grey and fringed with blond-tipped lashes—she said breathlessly, 'Have you finished?'

    He looked startled. 'You want me to say more?'

    'Actually, I meant the pudding.'

    'Oh right, sorry, yes, yes…' Fergus shook his head. 'God, sorry, completely losing it now.'

    'OK, here's an idea.' Feeling brave by comparison, Erin said, 'How about we both stop saying sorry to each other?'

'Good thinking. Yup. Definitely do that.'

'And how about we make some coffee and go and sit on the sofa?'

Fergus nodded, relieved. 'Coffee. Sofa. Sounds great.'

    But when he followed her out to the kitchen seconds later, he stood behind Erin and slid his arms around her. All the little hairs on the back of her neck leapt to attention as he kissed her on the shoulder. And then he carried on dropping a tantalizing trail of kisses along her collarbone until she was squirming with desire. Finally swiveling round in the circle of his arms, Erin said breathlessly, 'Or we could give the whole coffee and sofa thing a miss.'

    Fergus stroked her face. 'You know what? That's an even better idea.'

And it was.

Phew, no disasters, what a relief.

'What are you thinking?' Fergus murmured in her ear.

    Erin lay in his arms, smiling uncontrollably into the darkness as she slid her left foot lazily up and down his leg. 'I'm thinking I'm so glad I didn't fall out of bed or do anything wrong or say anything stupid. I'm thinking it went… very well, considering how nervous we both were beforehand.'

    'Ha, you think you were nervous. Trust me, it's fifty times scarier for men.' Fergus paused, then said, 'Unless it isn't, and it's only me who worries about… you know, the kind of thing a man might worry about.'

    'I bet they all do.'

    'Hmm, I'm not so sure. I can't imagine it troubling some people. Like Jack Lucas.' His tone was dry. 'Then again, Jack's had more practice. I've been out of the loop for the last twelve years.'

    'It was lovely.' Erin hesitated, wondering if it was too personal a question. 'Am I…?'

'Lovely too? Oh yes.' He hugged her more tightly.

'I didn't mean that.'

    'Right, so you were wanting to know if you're the first since Stella?' He'd been teasing her, had known what she was trying to ask. 'That would be another yes.'

    Erin's heart expanded; she was glad he wasn't the kind of man who just slept with any woman who happened to cross his path. This way she felt special.

    'I'm flattered.' She wiggled her toes playfully against his ankle.

    'And seeing as we're being honest, that was Stella trying to call me earlier.'

    Oh. Erin's foot stopped wiggling. That put a bit of a dampener on proceedings.

    'Sorry. I just thought you should know. She rings me sometimes, asks me to go round to the house for a chat.'

    A chat. Right. Erin said, 'Is that a euphemism for something else?'

    'No, no! God, no.' Fergus shook his head emphatically. 'And that's the truth. No way. She's just called me up a couple of times to get me over there so she can have a go at trying to change my mind. But that's not going to happen.'

    OK, better. Erin breathed more easily. 'Shouldn't you call her back, then? At least let her know you won't be turning up?'

    Smiling, Fergus said, 'See? That's the difference between you and Stella. She'd never consider another woman's feelings.'

    'I've been out with my share of men who don't bother to return your call. There's nothing worse than sitting at home waiting for the phone to ring.' Magnanimous in victory, Erin ran her hand over his furry teddy-bear chest. 'Give her a quick ring, get it out of the way.'

    He leaned over and kissed her. 'You're a nice person.'

    Erin gave his chest hair a mischievous tweak. 'I'm not, I just think if you're getting up to fetch your phone, you can bring that bottle of wine back to bed.'

    She lay back against the pillows and watched Fergus wrestle with the inside-out arms of her terry cloth dressing gown. She loved it that he chose to cover himself up rather than strut around the flat naked.

    'Sorry.' Catching her watching him, Fergus said, 'You don't mind if I borrow it, do you?'

    'Feel free.'

    He managed to get it on and wrapped around him, tying the belt with a secure double knot. 'Wouldn't want the sight of my stomach to put you off me.'

    Oh, the relief. 'You pretend not to notice my spare tire,' said Erin happily, 'and I'll pretend not to notice yours.'

    Fergus leaned over the bed and gave her another lingering kiss. 'That's my kind of deal. You wouldn't believe the grief Stella used to give me about going to the gym.'

    He was lovely. Erin found herself beaming like an idiot when he left the room. Less than a minute later he was back with their two glasses and the half-full bottle of wine.

    'You've forgotten something,' said Erin. 'Phone.'

    'I'll call her tomorrow morning,' Fergus pleaded.

    'No. Do it now. Then we don't have to feel guilty.'

    He rolled his eyes good-naturedly. 'I wasn't planning on feeling guilty. OK, you win.'

    This time when he came back into the bedroom he was no longer smiling.

    'What's wrong?'

    'Seven messages.' Fergus stood in the doorway frowning and pressing buttons on his phone. 'In one hour. Hang on…'

NOT FOR THE FIRST time, Erin's pulse quickened. While she and Fergus had been romping in bed, had something terrible happened to one of his parents? Filled with fear, she held her breath and watched his face as he listened to the first message. Oh God, what if someone had died and no one had been able to contact him because his phone was switched off because he was busy having sex with—

    Fergus looked up, his expression grim. 'Bing's been sick and all the lights have fused in the house.'

    Who?
What?

    'Who's Bing?'

    'The cat.' Listening to the next message, Fergus said, 'Stella's in a panic. The fuse box must have blown.'

    At least no one was dead. Erin said, 'Can't she call out an electrician?'

    'You don't know what Stella's like. She's terrified of the dark. And Bing's the love of her life. You have no idea.'

    Erin wished she hadn't been quite so nice now. This was what happened; it came back to bite you on the bum. The happy, relaxed atmosphere had gone and Fergus was now visibly on edge. As he listened to the third message, they were both able to hear Stella's desperate voice spiraling upwards.

    'Call her.'

    Fergus nodded and switched off the message. Next second, the phone burst into life in his hand.

    'Hi… yes, no, I was just about to… OK, calm down, no I didn't do it on purpose. I turned it off because I was busy. With
work
, Stella.' As he said this, Fergus turned away slightly, too guilty to meet Erin's gaze. 'Look, have you checked the fuse box?'

    The high-pitched shriek at the other end of the phone reached new heights. Erin flinched.

    'All right, all right.' Fergus heaved a sigh. 'I'll come over.'

    Oh
fantastic.

    'Sorry, I couldn't say no. She's in a terrible state.' Off the phone now, Fergus was dressing hurriedly. 'Bing's thrown up twice now and it's all over the place. Probably only fur balls but she can't be sure. And it's too dark to clear up the mess.'

    He'd dressed at record speed. Lifting her face for a last kiss, Erin did her best not to feel resentful towards Stella's vomiting cat.

    Fergus stroked her cheek. 'This wasn't how I'd planned on ending this evening.'

    'I know. Me neither.' Bloody animal, buggering fuse box. Bravely Erin said, 'Never mind.'