Time After Time (8 page)

Hayley gulped and took a few steps back into the wardrobe.

Ian’s short hair looked quite grey at the sides but his body didn’t seem to have aged much; he still had a broad chest and a trim waist. His grey suit and a black shirt fitted him perfectly, and his shoes were so shiny she reckoned he could use them to see right up her skimpy nightgown.

He looked her up and down. ‘Have you put on weight?’

‘I … well …
what
?’

He shrugged. ‘Time to cut out the carbs again. That or get Justin to give you one of his
special
workouts.’ When he smiled it reminded Hayley of a hungry crocodile eyeing a wounded zebra. ‘Come on, let’s get this reception over with. You can wear the Gucci dress I bought you in Milan.’ He let out a small laugh and it left her cold. ‘I’m feeling generous,’ he said out, sliding past her and into the walk-in wardrobe. ‘I’ll get your outfit. I’ll even choose your underwear.’

Hayley heard clothes hangers sliding and drawers being opened, so she walked across the bedroom, still unable to speak.

‘This is perfect.’ Ian emerged holding a long black dress with sparkling diamanté straps and a slit up the left side that Hayley thought would easily reach the middle of her thigh. He’d chosen a clutch bag and a pair of strappy black heels with red soles that would normally have made Hayley salivate and, arms outstretched, shout, ‘Mine, mine, mine, mine!’

He handed her a strapless lace bra and the tiniest thong she’d ever seen. Images of dental floss disappearing between her bum cheeks flashed through her mind.

‘There,’ he said, laying the dress down on the bed and walking to the door that Hayley hadn’t yet opened. ‘I’m going to have coffee in the study. Be ready by eleven. You know I hate waiting.’

‘Hang on,’ Hayley said urgently and Ian turned around. ‘When did I come here?’

‘To this bedroom?’

‘Y-yes.’

‘Having memory lapses again? Don’t you remember suggesting separate bedrooms, dear? We both sleep better … alone.’ He smiled again. ‘Although I see your bed’s unmade. Don’t tell me you passed out again.’

‘Agai–? Uh, no,’ Hayley said quickly.

Ian looked her up and down for the second time, smirked slightly and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Hayley remained motionless for what seemed like a hundred years as she stared at the door.

As she’d lain down on Chris’ bed the day before she’d
almost
been prepared to believe she’d somehow slipped into an odd parallel world in which she’d married Chris. She hadn’t been prepared to
accept
it, but she’d been prepared to
almost
believe it.

Not really knowing what to do next, she walked back to the bed where the Financial Times that Ian had brought caught her eye. She scanned over the headline and main article – more information about Boots Borrello’s arrest – and focused on the date.

Hang on, it’s the Saturday edition. But that was yesterday. He said it was today’s paper.

Spotting a phone on one of the bedside tables she picked up the receiver and dialled her home number.

The Fireman Sam sound-alike answered. ‘Anthony Jones.’

With a sinking feeling in her stomach she said, ‘Is that Rick and Hayley Cooper’s number?’

‘Sorry, love, no.’

She shivered. ‘Can you tell me what day it is?’

‘Ye-
es
. It’s Saturday, love.’

‘But
yesterday
was Saturday,’ Hayley spluttered. ‘Today’s Sunday.’

‘Sorry, love,’ he said. ‘Today’s definitely Saturday. Toodle-oo.’

She tried Rick’s mobile; invalid number, neither her mum nor Ellen answered their phone. She took a deep breath. Her instincts were telling her to do a runner, but where to? Hayley swallowed. Ian had lived in Edinburgh.

She ran to the window, pulled open the curtains and peered at the white stone and red brick buildings on the opposite side of the road, trying to make out the street sign on the corner, but it was too far away.

It kinds of looks like London.

Hayley let out a groan as she pushed the sash window upwards, then stuck her head out and took a deep breath through her nose like one of the Bisto kids.

It smells like London. And I know I didn’t leave Chris’ place last night. I know it.

She sat down on the bed with a springy plonk.

Calm down. Act as if everything is normal. Just … just pretend this is real.

After a few moments she headed for the bathroom, and her heart started beating faster again.

But what about Rick? The kids? Calm down. Think … think.

Standing in the large shower for a long time, she lathered her body. It felt toned, hard, as though it belonged to somebody else. She dried herself with one of the embroidered fluffy white towels and started looking through the dressing table. The drawers were filled with Dior, Chanel, La Prairie and Guerlain products. And two half-empty bottles – one whisky, the other vodka. Hayley eyed them. Was it too early to have a drink?

Fuck it. Who cares? It’s happy hour somewhere.

She picked up the bottle of Laphroaig, pulled out the cork and took a swig. It burned her throat and she coughed loudly, the sound bouncing around the bathroom. Hayley cleared her throat and took another sip. Then a third.

She dried her hair and put on her make-up, which, with the selection available to her, wasn’t a difficult task. Once finished, she went back into the bedroom and put on the clothes Ian had selected for her, with the exception of the thong, thinking it would slice her in half like a piece of cheddar. She exchanged the micro-undies for a less revealing and more comfortable pair, wishing she had some granny knickers à la Bridget Jones instead, whether she needed them or not.

Hayley looked at her reflection in the bathroom mirror and half smiled. The black dress hugged her breasts and waist without being revealing, and the slit showed off her toned, tanned legs. Any woman half her age would envy her body.

I wish … I wish Rick could see me like this. When did I last make an effort for him?

It was ten minutes to eleven and Hayley could have gone downstairs, but she dug her heels, quite literally, into the plush carpet. There was no question of her seeing Ian any earlier than she needed to. Instead, she headed over to the desk and rummaged through the drawers. The first thing she pulled out was a solid silver picture frame from underneath a stack of stationery. When she picked it up for a closer look she almost dropped it. It was a photo of Ian and her at a wedding.

Not
any
wedding.

Their
wedding.

Ronald and Tony did most of the talking during the meeting, which was a bloody good job as Hayley spent her time staring at Ian on an express train to Fantasyland.

She guessed him to be somewhere in his early thirties, judging by his fine laughter lines. He had strong features, a straight nose and dark green eyes, and a tiny half-moon shaped scar under his chin that Hayley wanted to reach out and touch. His clothes looked tailor-made and his gold cufflinks were engraved with his initials.

‘Your firm comes highly recommended, Ronald, as do you, Tony. Perhaps you can tell me about similar clients and how you’ve assisted them?’ His smooth and silky voice carried a hint of a Scottish accent, which, Hayley speculated, had probably been softened over years at a posh boarding school.

She watched and listened in awe as he asked intelligent questions and looked people directly in the eyes when he spoke. When his gaze met Hayley’s she felt a distinct twinge in her groin, so she crossed her legs and squeezed once, not daring to do it again, but allowing her mind to wander, imagining …

He’s come to the office when I’m working late and it’s just the two of us. He’ll push me back on the table, lift up my skirt, and … and …

‘And what do you think, Miss Adams?’ Ian said as he dragged her out of her fantasy.

Hayley blushed, mumbled, ‘I agree,’ and crossed her fingers.

Ian smiled and picked up his shiny Mont Blanc fountain pen with his manicured fingers. Just the other week she’d agreed with Mark that blokes who had their nails done were poncey. Not anymore.

‘Thank you, Ian,’ Ronald said at the end of the meeting. ‘It’s been a pleasure making your acquaintance. I look forward to hearing from you when you’ve made your decision.’ He turned to Hayley. ‘Would you please show Mr. Graham out?’

Hayley nodded and hoped her legs would be steady enough to carry her to reception. ‘Follow me, please.’ She gestured to Ian, leading him of the boardroom.

As she pushed the button for the lift Ian leaned in towards her. ‘I liked your dress on Saturday night.’

Hayley felt her face turn a deep shade of crimson. ‘I wasn’t sure you recognised me.’

‘Well I knew you recognised me,’ he said. ‘I want to see you again.’

Hayley noticed Sharon the receptionist looking at them with a frown so she cleared her throat. ‘As agreed, I’ll summarise what we discussed and have it ready for you by Thursday, Mr. Graham. I’ll see you for the review meeting next week.’

The lift opened and Ian stepped inside. Then he turned around and faced Hayley. Once again she felt like he was undressing her with his eyes.

‘Lunch,’ he said. ‘Tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at twelve sharp.’ He didn’t take his eyes of her as the lift doors closed, leaving her standing there with her mouth open.

*

‘So let me get this straight,’ Ellen said while she laid the table that evening. ‘You really fancied this Ian bloke at the club?’

‘Yes.’ Hayley passed her the jug of water and a pack of paper napkins.

‘And when you saw him today all you could think about was shagging him on the boardroom table?’

‘Um,’ Hayley scratched her head and crinkled up her nose, ‘Well, yes.’

Ellen set the jug on the table, tore open the pack of napkins and looked at Hayley. ‘And he’s asked you out to lunch tomorrow?’

‘He didn’t ask. It was a command,’ Hayley said in protest, as she tried to toss the salad with the oversized wooden spoons, and dropped it all over the kitchen floor instead. ‘He assumed I was willing and free. That’s a bit arrogant, isn’t it?’

‘And are you? Willing and free, I mean?’ Mark said, leaning against the fridge with his arms crossed and a cheeky grin. Hayley knew he enjoyed these conversations. He’d once said listening to her and Ellen gab helped him better understand the workings of the female brain. Ellen had giggled and instructed him to sack his translator.

‘Well, yes, I am,’ said Hayley. ‘But –’

‘So what’s the problem?’ Ellen and Mark said in unison and reached over to high-five each other.

‘Come on, Hayley,’ Ellen continued. ‘Let him buy you lunch and see where it goes.’

‘But he’s a client. It’s against the rules.’

‘Bollocks to the rules and he’s not a client yet.’ Ellen wiped a fork on her jumper. ‘Careful. You’re becoming one of those uptight solicitors with a broom up your arse. Live a little. You don’t have to marry him, it’s only lunch. You know you want to.’

Of course she did. She fancied Ian like crazy. Her fantasies about him were some of the dirtiest thoughts she’d ever had, but she couldn’t make out if it was because of his good looks, his overt arrogance, or both.

The next morning Hayley spent twice as long in the shower, on her hair and her make-up, then agonised over what to wear. She finally decided on her ‘professional, savvy and smart’ outfit. A black knee-length skirt that had large buttons on the side, an emerald green, long-sleeved blouse and a pair of black high heels that gave her an extra boost of confidence.

She spent the morning attempting to work on the report for Ian but kept looking at the clock every few minutes instead. By five to twelve, Hayley’s stomach had twisted itself into a knot the size of a basketball, and she persuaded herself the entire conversation with Ian about lunch was as real as the Tooth Fairy. She started chastising herself for being so silly when her phone rang.

‘Hayley,’ said Sharon from reception, ‘Mr. Graham is here for you.’

Her stomach lurched. She decided to let him stew for a minute so she sat on her hands for exactly one minute and forty-five seconds, then grabbed her coat and bag and took purposely long strides to the reception area.

‘Miss Adams.’ Ian shook her hand. His eyes twinkled and his lips formed a hint of a smile. ‘I’m pleased you could join me for lunch.’

She took in his black suit, crisp blue shirt and long black coat. His whole demeanour screamed elegant sophistication. He looked like Kevin Costner in
The Bodyguard.
Hayley’s throat went dry.

‘Hello, Mr. Graham,’ she answered, her tone formal. ‘And thank you for the invitation.’

‘Call me Ian, please.’

They waited in silence for the lift to arrive. When they got in and the doors closed, Hayley could barely stop herself from tearing his clothes off.

‘I knew you’d come.’

Touch me and I’ll come right now. What am I like? Stop it. Business. It’s all business.

‘Well … it’s unprofessional to turn down a lunch invitation from a new client.’

He smiled and stepped closer. She felt his warm breath on her neck and, before she could stop it, a small sigh escaped her lips.

‘Potential new client,’ he whispered. ‘And I hoped it would be a more personal conversation.’ He took hold of her shoulders and turned her around to face him, moving even closer, their lips almost touching. ‘Because I wanted to send Ronald and Tony out of the room the moment you walked in.’ He ran a finger down her arm slowly.

Hayley swallowed. She closed her eyes and tilted her head towards him, ready to accept his kiss. The lift jolted, the doors opened and she took a quick step back. He chuckled.

As Ian guided her outside, she felt his hand on the small of her back and she wished he’d let it slide down lower. They walked along the Strand to the taxi stand and when their arms occasionally brushed, it sent an electrifying ripple of excitement through her body.

Take me to a hotel. Take me back to your place. Oh just take me. Do it. Do it.

‘I have a reservation at The Ivy, have you been?’ Ian said.

‘Oh … blimey, no. Don’t you have to book weeks in advance?’

He smiled but didn’t answer, and held open the taxi door. She wiped her clammy hands on her skirt as she tried to think of something remotely intelligent to say. Nothing popped into her head so she decided to stay quiet.

‘Mr. Graham. Such a pleasure to see you again.’ The Ivy’s hostess looked more like a supermodel with her high cheekbones and impeccable smile. She shook Ian’s hand and turned to Hayley. ‘Good afternoon, Madam.’

‘Good to see you again too, Naomi,’ Ian said and smiled back.

Hayley immediately noticed the familiarity between them so she stood up taller and sucked in her stomach a little further.

‘Please,’ Naomi gestured with her hand. ‘Your table’s ready.’

Hayley gulped as she followed Naomi to their designated booth. The soft lighting glowed gently and the tables were dressed with immaculate white linen and shiny silverware. As they passed a waitress carrying plates of daintily plated food, Hayley’s senses went into overdrive. The tantalising aromas of spices and red wine instantly made her mouth water. Their waiter arrived and handed them menus. Ian ordered two glasses of
Moët & Chandon
and smiled at her.

‘I trust that’s alright with you?’ he said.

She nodded, then wondered how far her five quid lunch budget would take her. When she opened her menu, she realised it would be about a half of a bowl of soup, and even then she’d have to stay all afternoon to wash the dishes.

Ian must have seen her wince because he said, ‘I recommend the seared
foie gras
as a starter and the lamb for the main course. But we’ll skip dessert. And lunch is my treat to say thank you for your help.’

Hayley let her shoulders drop. ‘But I haven’t done anything for you yet.’

‘True. But I’m sure you’ll be excellent.’ He stared at her, one eyebrow arched slightly, an amused smile playing on his lips. ‘I bet you’re a good student.’

Hayley blushed again and let a few seconds pass, wondering how to start a conversation. She sipped on her glass of deliciously chilled champagne before finally saying, ‘So, uh, where are you from?’ Ian looked at her silently for a moment and she cleared her throat. ‘I … er … You don’t have to tell me if –’

He held up his hand. ‘I grew up in Edinburgh, the rougher part, that is. Studied economics.’

Hayley relaxed a little. ‘Did you work in Edinburgh?’

‘At a bank for a few years, then I convinced them to lend me the money to buy a small company that made high-performance industrial motors.’

Pretending to understand, she said, ‘Sounds … interesting.’

‘Indeed. The company was struggling but it had potential. I like potential. And a challenge.’ He smiled at her as he unfolded his napkin and set it on his lap. ‘Within three years we’d become the biggest exporter in the UK. Two years ago, the day before my thirtieth birthday, in fact, I sold the company.’

‘Oh, I see.’ He was only ten years older than her and yet Hayley felt he’d accomplished so much. ‘That’s an amazing story. And now you’re in London.’

‘Yes.’ He smiled again. ‘On the hunt for more potential.’

‘Did you move here with your wife or your girlfriend then?’ Hayley said as casually as she possibly could while playing with her fork.

Ian laughed. ‘No, Hayley. I did not. I’m currently single.’

She wanted to shout ‘Result!’ so she bit her lip for a second and instead said, ‘What about your family? They must be very proud.’

He shifted in his seat. ‘My parents and I don’t speak often. Now, what about you?’

‘Gosh, not much to say, really. Born and bred in Ealing. Studied law at City. Been working at Simpson and Partners since I qualified.’

‘What’s your speciality?’

‘Well, anything Ronald gives me.’

‘And what do you prefer?’

‘Mergers and acquisitions.’ She sat up straight. ‘I’m good at those.’

‘Boyfriend?’

‘No.’

‘Pity.’

Hayley looked at him quizzically and he shrugged. ‘I like challenges.’

The champagne on Hayley’s empty stomach started to take effect and she leaned forwards. ‘Do you always get what you want, Ian?’ She hoped she looked and sounded as sexy as she thought she did.

He shifted his body towards hers as the waiter arrived with their starters. ‘Always.’

They had a glass of
Château Margaux
to accompany the succulent lamb dish. Hayley watched the waiter walk by with a delicate puff-pastry dessert, and wished she had one in front of her too. She’d never had never had a more delicious, refined and expensive meal.

‘I’d better get you back to the office or Ronald will wonder what I’ve done with you,’ Ian said, waving his platinum credit card at the waiter.

Hayley giggled. She’s already been gone well over an hour. ‘Well … you could phone and tell him you need to borrow me for the rest of the day.’

Whoops. Better stay professional here … Ooh who cares?

She fluttered her eyelashes.
‘I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.’

‘I have a meeting to go to,’ Ian said as he put his napkin on the table. ‘I’m travelling over the next few days but I’ll be back on Saturday. I’ll see you that night. Dinner at eight o’clock. Write down your address and phone number here.’ He handed her his pen and a small pocket book. ‘I’ll pick you up. Don’t be late.’ He shook his head. ‘I hate waiting.’

So cocky and bossy. But I kind of like it. I bet he does it in bed too.

Hayley obediently scribbled her details into the pocket book and handed it back to Ian with the pen. He got up, so she followed him, and he took her back to the office in a taxi.

‘It’s been a pleasure,’ he said as he shook her hand outside the office building. Then he turned around and walked away before she could utter a reply.

Her phone rang two minutes after she’d arrived at her desk. ‘Hayley Adams speaking.’

‘I’m looking forward to Saturday.’ Ian’s silky smooth voice whispered in her ear and Hayley’s heart did a loop-the-loop. ‘I apologise for being so formal just now. I didn’t want to get you into any trouble. Perhaps I can be less …
restrained
on Saturday?’

‘I’d like that,’ Hayley said. ‘I’d like that very much.’ She looked up and saw Tony standing by her desk, one eyebrow raised. ‘I have to go,’ she said quickly into the phone. ‘Bye.’

‘I heard you had lunch with Ian Graham,’ Tony said quietly, his brown eyes sparkling fiercely. He crossed his arms and leaned towards her.