Читать книгу The By Request Collection - Kate Hardy - Страница 85

CHAPTER FIVE

THIS WHOLE WEEK was doomed. Alex had known it from the minute he’d got Lola’s email. Camilla Lusso liked to work with people she could show off. Extroverted, larger than life, Lola had fitted the bill perfectly. Flora? Not so much. But she did have the training, after all. It wasn’t as if he had thrown her in unprepared; she’d been brought up with camera crews, journalists and interviewers traipsing through the house, had been expected to converse intelligently at dinner parties and receptions since she’d hit double figures.

Of course, that didn’t mean she enjoyed any of it. Alex knew all too well that if he’d been completely honest with her at the start she’d have run a mile.

Maybe that would have been for the best. No Flora, no kiss, no sleepless night.

Because, try as he might, he just couldn’t shake the memory of the warmth of her mouth, the sweetness of her lips, the way his hands had held her as if she were made just for him, every curve slotting so perfectly against him.

There had been far too many kisses from far more women than Alex cared to remember. Not one had stayed with him, not for a second. This one he could still taste. He had a feeling he would still feel it imprinted on his lips in fifty years’ time.

And it was all he could do not to put his hands on her shoulders, turn her around and kiss her once again. And this time there would be no stepping back. Not ever.

But he couldn’t. She deserved better than him. She needed someone who wasn’t dead inside, someone who could match her sweetness and generous spirit. Sometimes Alex thought that Flora could be the saving of him—but he’d be the damning of her. His father’s last words echoed around his brain yet again.

You taint everything you touch. You were born bad and grew up worse.

And his father was right.

But he wouldn’t taint Flora, never Flora.

‘I haven’t been ice skating in years.’ She worried away at her lower lip as they walked through the twisty streets. ‘Not since we used to go to the ice discos on a Friday night. Not that you did much skating. You were usually in a corner snogging some random girl.’

He had been. A different girl each week. The worse he’d behaved, the more they’d seemed to find him irresistible. He had hated himself every single Friday night as he’d smiled across at yet another hopeful—but it hadn’t stopped him moving in while last week’s conquest had watched from a corner.

Had anything changed? He went in for relationships now, not kisses in a booth by an ice rink, but he didn’t commit as much as a toothbrush to them—and Flora had a point when she said that each of his girlfriends was interchangeable. A warm body to lose himself in, a talisman against the dark.

Could he change that—did he even want to? Or would it be just as lonely with one woman by his side as it was with dozens?

He shook off the thought. ‘It’ll be just like riding a bike—the skating, not the snogging.’ Why had he said that? He was pretty sure that the red in her cheeks had nothing to do with the cold and she ducked her head so that he couldn’t see her expression.

It’ll get easier, he told himself. But he hoped it was soon. He couldn’t imagine being this awkward in front of her parents. He knew Flora thought they favoured him but there was no contest—she was their little girl and if he hurt her they’d take her side. As they should.

It made him aware just how alone he was in the world. Was there anyone who would be on his side no matter what?

There were lots of ice rinks in and around Innsbruck, the prettiest on naturally frozen lakes, but the one Alex had chosen had a charm all of its own. It was a temporary rink right in the centre of town, just a short walk from the bustling Christmas markets. The early afternoon sun was too bright for the Christmas lights hanging overhead and bedecking every tree to make any impact but Alex knew that once dusk fell the whole town would light up, a dazzling, golden winter wonderland of crystal and light.

The rink was busy and it took a while before they could pay and order their skates. The boots were tight and stiff, unfamiliar on his feet, a reminder as he awkwardly stood up just how long it was since he had last been skating. Judging by Flora’s awkward gait, she felt the same way. Gingerly they walked, stiff-legged and heavy-footed, to the wide entrance and peered at the whirling crowd. Even the toddlers seemed to have a professional air as they flew round and round, their mittened hands clasped behind their backs.

Alex grimaced. ‘I’m not sure about that backward race; right now just going forwards feels like it might be a struggle.’

Flora slid her foot forward, wobbling like a fawn who had only just found her feet, her arms windmilling madly as she found her balance. ‘Come on, we just need to find our feet. It’ll be fine. I used to be able to dance on the ice.’

‘Synchronised moves to pop. It wasn’t exactly figure skating,’ he pointed out as he put a tentative toe on the white surface, his eyes following a slight figure who did seem to be practising figure skating as she looped elegant circles round and round. ‘I don’t think we ever got to Austrian standards.’

Flora slid out another cautious foot and then another, a smile playing around her mouth as she began to pick up speed. ‘Speak for yourself! You should have spent more time skating, less time being the local Casanova,’ she yelled over her shoulder as she struck out for the centre of the rectangular rink.

Alex took a quick look around. On the far side the tented café was open to the rink and filled with cheerful onlookers clutching hot drinks and waving at family members as they skated close. At both ends spectators paused in their shopping to watch the sport. Christmas music blared from speakers and a giant, lit-up Christmas tree occupied the very centre of the rink.

He could stay here, clinging to the handrail, or he could venture out. Come on, he used to spend every weekend doing this. His body must remember the moves. Grimly he let go and began to move.

That was it, knees bent, body weight forward, letting the blades cut at an angle and propel him forward. The air chilled on his face as he got up some speed, the rest of his body warming with the exertion. Where was Flora? Squinting through a gang of teens, arms locked as they swung round in matching step, he saw her, weaving nimbly in and out of the other skaters. He’d always liked to watch her on the ice. She lost all self-consciousness, graceful as she pirouetted around.

She saw him and skated an elegant figure of eight, the ice swishing under her skates as she pulled up alongside him.

‘Hey.’ She smiled at him, any trace of reserve gone in the wide beam. ‘This is brilliant. Why don’t we do this any more?’

‘Because we’re not sixteen?’

‘That’s a rubbish reason. Look, there are plenty of people here way older than us.’

‘And way younger.’ Alex nodded towards one of the toddler prodigies and Flora laughed.

‘He must have been born with skates on. Come on, let’s go faster...’

She grabbed his hand and struck out and with a shout of alarm mixed with exultation he joined her, their gloved hands entwined, their bodies moving in swift, perfect synchronicity as they whirled faster and faster and faster round and round and round. All he could hear was his blood pumping in his ears, the roar of the wind and the beat of the music; colours swirled together as they moved past, through and round other groups until someone’s foot, he wasn’t sure whose, slipped and they crashed together, a sliding, flailing, unbalancing. Somehow he managed to grab hold of Flora and steady her before she fell completely onto the ice and they backed carefully to the side, holding onto each other, laughing.

‘That was brilliant.’ Her eyes shone, her cheeks were pink with exertion and her breath came in pants. She had never looked more magnificent, like some winter naiad glorying in the ice.

‘Yes.’ He wanted to say more but all the words had gone. All he could see were her long lashes, tipped with snow, her wide laughing mouth, a mouth made for kissing. All he could feel was her softness, nestled in next to him.

He had held her before, stood this close to her before. If he was honest he had wanted her before. But he’d hidden it, even from himself, every single time before. It was as if yesterday’s kiss had opened the gates, shown him the forbidden fruit concealed behind them and now that he had tasted he wasn’t sure he could ever stop craving.

It was a bad idea. But God help him he’d forgotten why. And when she looked at him like that, tentative, hopeful, naked desire blazing from those dark, dark eyes, he was utterly undone.

It was a bad idea. But Alex pushed that thought away as the air stilled, as the beat of the music faded away replaced with the thrum of need beating its own time through his veins, through his blood. He stood, drinking her in like a dying man at an oasis. All he had to do was bend his head...

He paused, allowing the intoxicating possibility to fill him—and then he stood back. ‘Come on.’ His voice was rough, rasping like yesterday’s beard. ‘We need to get back.’

It was a bad idea. If only it didn’t feel so wickedly, seductively good. If only doing the right thing didn’t rip his heart right out of his chest.

He turned and skated away. And didn’t look back once.

* * *

He’d nearly kissed her. She knew it completely. She’d seen it as his eyes had darkened to a stormy grey, as his breath had hitched and a muscle had pulsed on his cheek. She’d felt it as his arm had tightened around her shoulders, as her body had swayed into his. She hadn’t thrown herself at him; she couldn’t blame the schnapps, not this time.

No, Alex Fitzgerald had looked at her as if she were his last hope.

Of course, then he had turned and skated away as if all the Furies were chasing him down, but still. They had had a definite moment.

Which was pretty inconvenient because hadn’t she vowed that this was it and she was going to Get Over Him no matter what? And then he had to go and look at her like that and all her good intentions were trampled into the ground like yesterday’s snowfall.

Because that look went beyond mere lust. It did. It wasn’t just wishful thinking. No, she had felt it penetrate right through to the core of her.

Flora sighed and nudged the hot tap with her foot and let another fall of steaming water into the tub. It felt decadently wrong to lie naked in the middle of such a big room, wearing just hot water and scented oils. The view from the bathtub might be incredible but it seemed, a little disconcertingly, as if she were bathing right outside in the middle of a mountain glade.

Still, it was pretty relaxing—as long as Alex stuck to his timetable and didn’t walk back in.

What if he did? Would he look like that again or would he back away terrified again?

Something was going on. I need answers, she decided, allowing herself to slip deep into the hot, almost to the point of discomfort, luxuriantly smelling water. She couldn’t go on like this.

It was one thing thinking he was indifferent; horrid to think he was repulsed. But now? She had no idea. It was as if she were sixteen again. His face had that same remote, shuttered look it had worn all that long, hot summer.

She couldn’t let him slip back to that place, wherever it was. She had been too shy, too unsure to ask questions then, to demand answers.

But maybe he needed her to ask them? Maybe by letting whatever had happened lie festering all these years she had done him a disservice. It didn’t mean he would end up declaring his undying love for her, she knew that. It might change things for ever. But if she loved him then she needed to be strong, for once in her life. No matter what the personal cost.

And she wouldn’t get anywhere lying in this bath, tempting as it was to stay in here all night long.

Although she wanted to try out one of the dresses she had bought that day, the prospect of a potential sledge ride made her think again and in the end Flora opted for her smartest black skinny jeans and a long, soft grey jumper with a snowflake motif. She started to automatically twist her hair into a ponytail but instead she let it flow freely across her shoulders, thankful that the wave had held and it hadn’t been too flattened by the hat.

She stood before the mirror and looked down at the last purchase of the day, an impulse buy urged upon her by the shop assistants in the vintage shop. There was no way, they told her, that she could team her formal dress with her usual, insipid shade of lipstick.

She untwisted the top and stared down at the deep, dark red. A colour like that would only draw attention to her mouth and Flora had done her best to disguise its width since the day she had bought her first make-up. It had been the first thing she had been teased about—the kids at school had called her the wide-mouthed frog until she’d started to develop. The names after that had been cruder and even less original.

A sigh escaped her. It was just a colour. And nobody here knew her, would think twice about what colour she chose to paint her mouth. That was it, no more thought. She raised the small stick and quickly dabbed it across her lips, blending in the deep, rich colour. Then before she could backtrack and wipe it off again she turned on her heel and walked away from the mirror. No more hiding.

* * *

‘This one seems to be ours.’ Alex reached out and helped Flora into the old-fashioned, wooden sleigh. She climbed up carefully and settled herself onto the padded bench, drawing the fleecy blankets closely round herself, her feet thankful for the hot bricks placed on the floor. ‘Four horses? They must have heard about the six cakes you put away during Kaffee and Kuchen.’

‘At least I stuck to single figures,’ she countered as he swung himself in beside her. Very close bedside her. Flora narrowed her eyes as she tried to make out the other sledges, already sliding away into the dark in a trample of hooves and a ringing of bells. Were they all so intimately small?

The driver shook the reins, causing a cascade of bells to ring out jauntily, and the sledge moved forward. She was all too aware of Alex’s knee jammed tight against hers, his shoulders, his arm. The smell of him; like trees in spring and freshly cut grass, the scent incongruous in the dark of winter.

‘Have you had a good time at the reception?’ He was as formal as a blind date. It was the first time they had spoken this evening, the first interaction since she had taken a long deep breath and walked into the buzzing lounge. To her surprised relief the reception had been a lot less terrifying than she had anticipated. It was informal, although waitresses circled with glasses of mulled wine, spiced hot-chocolate rum and small, spicy canapés, and most people were more than happy to introduce themselves. The vibe was very much anticipatory and relaxed—the whole hotel felt very different, felt alive now that it was filled. It was no longer their private domain.

‘You know, I actually have.’ She turned and smiled at him. ‘I had a lovely chat to Holly, she writes travel blogs and articles. Did you know her parents are journalists too? Her mum writes one of those family confessional weekly columns and Holly spent her whole childhood being mercilessly exposed in print as well!’

‘That’s great. I can see why you’re so thrilled for her.’

‘Obviously not great for her,’ Flora conceded. ‘But it was so nice to meet someone who understands just how mortifying it is. Her mum still writes about her—only now it’s all about how she wishes she would stop travelling, settle down and pop out grandkids. At least mine hasn’t gone there—yet.’

‘No, but leave it more than five years and she might do a whole show about women who leave it too late to have babies.’ His mouth quirked into a wicked smile.

‘If she does I’ll get her to do a companion show about aging sperm count and use you as her patient,’ Flora countered sweetly and was rewarded by an embarrassed cough.

Silence fell, a silence as dark and impenetrable as the night sky. They were both sitting as far apart as possible, almost clinging onto the side rails, but it was no good; every move of the sleigh slid them back along the narrow bench until they were touching again.

It was all too horribly, awkwardly, toe-curlingly romantic. From the sleigh bells tinkling as the proud-necked white horses trotted along the snowy tracks, to the lanterns the hotel had thoughtfully placed along the paths, the whole scenario was just begging for the lucky passengers to snuggle up under the thick blankets and indulge in some romance beneath the breathtakingly starry sky.

Or, alternatively, they could sit as far apart as possible and make the kind of stilted small talk that only two people who very much didn’t want to be romantic could make. Remarks like, ‘Look, aren’t the stars bright?’ and, ‘The mountains are pretty.’ Yep, Flora reflected after she had ventured a sentence about the height of the pine trees that stretched high up the mountainside, they were definitely reaching new depths of inanity.

If things were normal then they would be curled up laughing under the blankets. She would tease him about the women who had been clustered around him at the reception; he would try and cajole her to be a little more open-minded about her first ski lesson. They would probably refresh themselves from a hip flask. Completely at ease. But tonight the memory of that almost-kiss hung over them. It was in the clip clop of the horse’s hooves, in the gasp of the sharp, cold mountain air, in the tall ghostly shadows cast by the lantern-lit trees.

‘I feel like I should apologise,’ she said after a while. ‘And I am sorry for being drunk and silly, for putting you in a difficult position with Camilla. I am really sorry that you are having to sleep on the narrowest, most uncomfortable sofa I have ever had the misfortune to sit on in my life. And I’m sorry I kissed you.’ She swallowed. ‘I should have taken the hint when you stopped me all those years ago. But I’ve wanted to know what we’d be like most of my life. And when you told me I couldn’t live in fear of rejection I just had to try, one more time...’

‘And?’ His voice was husky, as if it hurt him to speak. ‘Was it worth it?’

‘You tell me.’ Flora shifted so she was sitting side on, so that she could see the inscrutable profile silhouetted against the dark night by the lantern light. ‘Because I think actually that you wanted to as well. Maybe you have always wanted to. Even back then.’

He didn’t answer for a long moment. Flora’s heart speeded up with every second of silence until she felt as if it might explode open with a bang.

‘You’re right. I did. And it was...it was incredible. But you and me, Flora. It would never work. You know that, right?’

Her heart had soared with the word incredible, only to plummet like an out-of-control ski jumper as he finished speaking.

She wasn’t good enough for him. Just as she had always known. ‘Because I don’t have aspirations?’ she whispered. ‘Because I mess up?’

‘No! It’s not you at all.’

The denial only served to irritate her. Did he think she was stupid? ‘Come on, Alex. I expected better from you of all people. You don’t have to want me, it’s okay, but please respect me enough not to fob me off with the whole “It’s not you, it’s me” line. Do you know how many times I’ve heard it? And I know you trot it out on a regular basis.’

‘But this time I mean it. Dammit, Flora. Do you really think I’m good enough for you? That there’s anything in my soulless, workaholic, shallow life that could make you happy?’

‘I...’ Was that really what he thought? ‘You do make me happy. You’re my best friend.’

‘And you’re mine and, believe me, Flora, I am more grateful for that than you will ever know. But you’ve been saving me since you were eight. Now it’s my turn to save you. From me. Don’t you think I haven’t thought about it? How easy it would be? You’re beautiful and funny and we fit. We fit so well. But you deserve someone whole. And I haven’t been whole for a long, long time.’

How could she answer that? How could she press further when his voice was bleak and the look in his eyes, when the lamp highlighted them, was desolate? She took in a deep breath, the cold air sharpening her focus, the icy breeze freezing the tears that threatened to fall.

‘I break everything I touch, Flora,’ Alex said after a while. ‘I can’t, I won’t break you. I won’t break us. Because if I didn’t have you in my life I wouldn’t have anything. And I’m just too selfish to risk that.’

What about me? she wanted to ask. Don’t I get a say? But she didn’t say anything. Instead she slipped her glove off and reached her hand across until she found his, looping her cold fingers through his, anchoring him tightly. ‘I’m not going anywhere,’ she whispered, her head on his shoulder, breathing him in. ‘I promise, you don’t get rid of me that easily.’

He didn’t answer but she felt the rigid shoulder relax, just a little, and his fingers clasped hers as if he would never let her go. Maybe this would be enough. It would have to be enough because it was all he was offering her.