To Love, Honour and Disobey (8 page)

Seb felt anger ripple through his body. He was angry about having to leave her here. And even angrier
about feeling angry about it. He should be relieved. He should be over it. He’d had more sex in the last few days than he’d had all year. And the best sex of his life, if he stopped to think about it. Which he didn’t want to do, because now it was over. He stood. Time to go.

Phil and Jack were unusually silent, unusually observant as Seb waited for Ana to walk out to the hallway ahead of him.

She opened the front door and waited. He looked at her but she looked through him. All the intimacy was gone. She didn’t lean towards him, didn’t smile, just stood stiffer than a starched collar. It really was over for her, wasn’t it? She couldn’t wait for him to leave.

So he didn’t kiss her. Held back with more muscle control than he needed in the last leg of a triathlon. Angry with everything. Because it was what they’d agreed—Africa and that was it. Cut and dried, and damned if he was going to mess it up any more.

But the sharp edge of loneliness dug deep in the drive to his apartment. Cold, he tossed his bag by the door. He’d deal with it tomorrow. Better still get his laundry service to deal with it. He switched on his stereo to try to block the silence. Felt wrong inside. As if his stomach and his lungs had swapped places or something devastatingly uncomfortable.

Jet lag. That’d be it. Tiredness from the long flight. There was work to get on with and plenty of it, he noted as he skimmed his emails. There were details from his Dad as well on the next wedding of the century. Hell, if he had to work on another divorce for either of his folks that was it, he was charging them full fees. He shut down the computer, turned off the
stereo too and cranked up the heating. He passed his bag in the hall, bent and pulled out the wooden bao set he’d bought on a whim on that last day. He held it in his hands, remembered the hours of frisky entertainment the game had spawned. Irritated, he put it high on the overcrowded bookcase and turned his back on it.

It. Was. Over.

‘S
PILL
it, Ana.’ Phil was sitting next to Jack on the sofa and together they were acting like an incompetent good-cop-bad-cop interview team.

‘Phil, she’ll talk if she wants to.’

‘I’m her oldest and dearest friend. I have the right to know.’

‘Only what she—’

‘I don’t need all the details, just—’

‘
When
she’s ready to tell you.’

‘Why don’t you go do the dishes? She’ll open up to me.’

‘Maybe she’d rather speak to someone who actually
has
ears, not ones that are just painted on.’

Ana watched them digging at each other with the teasing glint so evident in their eyes. Their banter was never serious and always cute. But tonight it grated. ‘Can I say something?’

‘Sure.’ They simultaneously turned their heads towards her with synchronised Abba-esque speed.

‘I’m going to get an early night.’ She stood.

‘Oh, yeah, you must be worn out from all those hot
nights in Africa,’ Phil said, more sarcastic than sympathetic.

‘The flight was long.’ She aimed to quell.

‘And cosy. Bet you went business class.’

‘First class. It was very spacious, actually.’ Liar. She’d been too close to him for her nerves. Now they were beyond frayed and almost at break point.

‘Come on, Ana. The guy follows you halfway round the world. You can’t have
nothing
to say.’

‘Look,’ Ana said tiredly. ‘It
was
nothing.’

Phil pounced. ‘So there was an “it”? Define the “it”.’

‘Why do you want to know?’

‘Because I’m worried about you!’ He walked and put his hands on her shoulders. ‘You looked washed out.’

‘I told you the flight was long.’

‘It’s more than the flight.’

‘Well, what little there was is finished now.’ Ana sidestepped and moved to the door. ‘Sorry, Phil, but I really am tired.’

‘But—’

‘Leave it,’ Jack said to Phil.

But Phil didn’t leave it. ‘I thought you’d come home happier than this.’

‘What do you mean?’ She looked at him.

‘I thought…’ He frowned. ‘Ana, there’s so obviously something between you and Seb.’

‘Something. Yes. We slept together again, Phil—is that what you wanted to know?’

‘So now what?’ He looked confused.

‘Now nothing.’ She shrugged, not wanting to feel confusion herself. ‘It’s over.’

But Phil frowned, followed her to the door. ‘Last time you hooked up with him you went away together
for a week and when you got back you then disappeared for
months
. Now you’ve had another week or so away with him—can you blame me for wondering what is going to happen next?’

‘Nothing’s going to happen, Phil. We’ve just…scratched the itch. Finished off the unfinished business,’ she said, unable to find a better cliché.

‘Can women do that?’

‘What?’

‘Well, you know, be so casual? I always thought it was harder for you to take the emotion out of sex.’

‘It’s hard for anyone to divorce emotion from the act of love,’ Jack chimed in.

‘Oh, please.’ Ana rolled her eyes. ‘It wasn’t an act of love. It was lust. Pleasure. Physical need. Nothing more.’

Phil and Jack stared. Silent. Sceptical.

Ana sighed. ‘Goodnight, guys.’ She strode to her room, focusing on one thing only: sleep—blankness of mind,
nothing
.

During the day she got busy with work. Went window-shopping. Immersed herself in the smells and sounds and sights of the big city—filling her senses with so much stuff that thoughts of the beach, the sand, the silence and the sex were banished from her mind.

But at night she tossed and turned and told herself again and again that the itch was all gone.

Friday she walked into the kitchen where Phil and Jack were opening a bottle of wine for their post-work snifter. ‘Let’s go out to dinner. My treat.’

‘Yeah?’ They looked delighted.

‘Yeah.’ She held up a pair of shoes she’d once
thought she’d never wear. ‘But if you see me talking to a tall, dark, handsome stranger, come and smack some sense into me, OK?’

‘Deal.’ Phil laughed.

Ana grinned. ‘I need to get out.’

‘Yeah, you need to show off that tan.’

Seb knew the minute she arrived. Of course he’d had his eyes glued to the door so it wasn’t as if she was going to be able to sneak in without him knowing.

Even so his body seemed to sense it was her the second before she stepped into the bar. Adrenalin zinged along every vein. And unerringly she saw him too—in that first instant. Her brows lifted, something flashed in her eyes but he didn’t have the chance to read it—too soon she’d veiled them, too soon she’d looked away.

But she sidestepped her way through the other patrons and came over to him. Smile in place. ‘I didn’t expect to see you here. I thought you said you’d forsaken this kind of lifestyle. Aren’t you all about mountain biking and marathons now?’

He eyed her over the rim of his glass. ‘And I thought you’d be too busy setting up the business to have time to socialise.’

‘No. I can do social as well. I feel quite refreshed after Africa.’

She looked it too, damn her. Whereas he felt like death warmed up. Hadn’t slept properly since he’d got back. Cold. Lonely. Grumpy.

‘I’m getting the drinks.’ She looked at his halfempty one. ‘You need another?’

He shook his head. Phil took her place as she moved over to the bar to order.

Seb glanced at him. ‘Thanks for your message.’

Phil didn’t smile. ‘Make no mistake, Seb. I’m Ana’s friend.’

Seb smiled faintly. Was this Phil attempting some sort of overprotective attitude towards Ana? The guy didn’t know it but she was totally capable of taking care of herself. ‘So am I.’ Sort of. They had some kind of connection that counted, didn’t they?

He’d been going to come here anyway—whether he’d had the message or not he knew full well it was Phil and Jack’s favourite haunt and that if they were going to take her anywhere, it’d be here. He’d just wanted to see her. Now he had.

‘Are you going to join us for dinner?’ Phil asked. ‘We’re just waiting on a table at the Thai place across the road.’

Seb couldn’t stop staring after Ana. ‘I’m not sure it’s such a good idea.’

‘Thought you said you were friends. I’m sure Ana won’t mind.’

Yeah. That was what he was afraid of. That she didn’t care enough to mind. But he couldn’t resist staying, could he? ‘OK.’

Fairy Godfather Phil—that was what he wanted to be. Ana glared at her friend. It was better than having to spend any more time looking across the table at Seb. Because seeing him made something twist inside her. For once it wasn’t his gorgeousness heating her belly. If anything he looked less than his usual immaculate male-model self. He looked tired around the eyes, maybe even thinner. And it was that causing the discomfort inside her.

She abandoned her dinner. Noticed he’d stopped eating too. She couldn’t resist prying just a little. ‘You’re not with your dad tonight?’

‘He’s not having a stag do if that’s what you mean.’

‘What time is the wedding?’

He shrugged, his brow wrinkling. She wanted to smooth it. His eyes, in just that second, looked so unhappy. Sure he was laughing with Phil and Jack, sure he was making the effort. But that was what she sensed—the effort it was taking him. Clearly the whole wedding thing was cutting him up. The ridiculous urge to comfort him flooded her—she wanted to hold him and make him laugh. Make him carefree again.

Careless.

Where had the fun-loving Seb gone?

As the evening progressed the urge to reach out to him only grew. She’d thought she could handle it. She really had. At last they headed back to Phil and Jack’s—running the few streets in the drizzle. Phil and Jack took the mickey about her shoes and Seb’s smile flashed in the dark as she ran faster than all of them just to prove herself.

The guys insisted Seb stop for another drink before going on to his apartment. Phil opened his whisky and the three parked in the lounge. Ana tried to join in—fixed herself a hot chocolate and acted as if none of it were a problem. But in the end all she could do was run away.

She lay in bed and listened to the deep voices. The laughter resonated up the wooden stairs. But in her mind’s eye she saw him with that pain in his expression. It had been a mere flash but she knew it went deep. She sighed. What was she doing
caring
?

She finally slept—waking to hear Jack remonstrating with Phil, telling him to hurry up. She glanced at her watch—after ten already. The boys were off to Manchester for a couple of days to see Jack’s family and they had a long drive ahead of them.

She pulled on jeans and a tee. Wandered down and grinned at Phil’s greenish tinge and dark glasses. ‘Late night?’

‘Early morning,’ he grumbled.

She walked him to the door. Jack was wrestling with an oversize suitcase, trying to jam it, and the other twenty bags, into the boot of his car, muttering about the amount of stuff Phil insisted on taking with him.

Phil sighed. ‘He loves my high-maintenance tendencies, really.’

‘Of course he does.’ Phil was exceptionally high maintenance but he was also such fun. ‘Have a great time.’

Phil turned back and took her wrist. Usually his face was lit with laughter but now he was serious. ‘Don’t run away again.’

She hadn’t contacted him during the time she’d hidden away down south. He hadn’t told her off, had never pried—not about that. Just opened his door, taken one look and let her in. So she owed him now and gave a promise she was determined to keep. ‘I won’t.’

The sparkle in his eye rekindled—sly this time. ‘Are you going to go wake Sleeping Beauty?’

‘I suppose,’ she said darkly.

‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.’

Well, that gave her a hell of a lot of leeway, didn’t
it? He winked and she waved. She walked back into the apartment and glanced at the immobile log still sound asleep on the sofa, then at the empty bottles on the table. Clearly a very early morning for them all.

In the kitchen she got the espresso machine working. Made it so strong it was like thick brown goo dripping into the cup. She lifted the cup and wandered back through to the lounge. Held the steaming brew under his nose.

‘Wake up, Seb.’

One eye opened and quickly shut again. ‘I’m dreaming.’

‘No, you’re not.’

He peered at her again. ‘Ugh. You’re right. If I was, you’d be naked.’

‘Sebastian, you have to get up. Aren’t you due at your father’s wedding?’

‘Not going.’ His growl took her aback.

‘What?’

He sighed. ‘Look, I have no interest in seeing my dad get married again. Certainly not to a woman only a few years older than me.’

‘Seb.’ She shook her head. ‘Aren’t you the best man?’

‘Been there, done that. Twice already. Not gonna again.’

‘Seb, this is your father.’ He couldn’t skip this. He’d regret it. She knew he would.

‘So? I don’t know her family. There’s not a lot of mine. It’s not going to be fun, Ana, and it’ll all be over in a year or two at best. What’s the point?’

‘It’s not about having fun. It’s about being there for your family.’ She paused.

‘Not going.’ He lifted his head from the sofa and raised his voice too. ‘They’re too annoying.’

‘You should be grateful you have parents to be annoyed by.’

His head thudded back on the cushion. ‘Oh, you had to go low, didn’t you?’

‘Yeah. You can’t argue with me.’ She handed him the mug. ‘Drink up. I’ll take you back to yours and drive you to the wedding.’

‘I’m perfectly capable of driving.’

Like hell he was. ‘With the amount you obviously drank last night? So much you couldn’t walk the three blocks back to your place? It’s still got to be in your system.’

‘I didn’t have that much. Not enough anyway.’

‘Well, you smell like you’re over the limit.’

Seb grunted. Unable to deny his amusement. Yeah, he reeked. But that was because in the carousing with Phil he’d spilt a giant glass of Scotland’s finest over his clothes. Terrible waste. But it had got late and Phil had been keen to stay up later—sly dog. He’d known, hadn’t he, that the last thing Seb had wanted to do was leave? He’d tossed him a blanket, telling him it was too cold/wet/late to walk home—making it easy for him. And Seb had practically leapt at the offer. Hell, he’d slept better on this too small sofa than he had in his own right-sized bed. Just knowing she was near. That he was going to see her again soon—in only a few hours rather than the uncertain number of days he’d had to wait this week.

Hell. There was something seriously wrong with him.

‘I’ll walk home.’ He needed to get his head together.

‘I’m coming with you.’

His mood inexplicably lifted. ‘Why?’

‘Because I have the feeling you’re not going to show up at the wedding. And I think that would be a mistake.’

He eyed her lazily. He didn’t give a damn about the wedding. ‘What are you going to do about it?’

‘I’m going to take you there myself.’

‘You’re inviting yourself to my father’s wedding?’ His heart stopped beating.

‘Yeah.’ She tossed her head. ‘Why not?’

Why not? Hell, she had no idea how close he was to giving in to base urges and hauling her into his arms. His heart thumped again—a couple of uneven beats before picking up speed as his brain processed the idea of having the whole day with her. ‘You want to see what the craziness is like?’

‘Is it that crazy, Seb?’

‘It’s hell.’ He closed his eyes again as he thought of something far more wickedly exciting. ‘What are you going to wear?’

There was a bit of a pause. Then he heard her soft voice—heard the catch of shy laughter.

‘Actually I have the most amazing dress. A few, in fact. Want to help me choose?’

‘OK.’ Of course he did.

‘I’ll go get them.’

‘
No
to anything black,’ he called after her.

In a minute she was back, holding a hanger with a dress floating from it. ‘No black limits options. What about this?’

He stared, his whole body reacting, and was damn glad of the blanket he still had over him. ‘Have you ever worn it in public?’