Читать книгу A Kiss To Remember - Miranda Lee - Страница 8

GO TO bed, Angie willed desperately. Please go to bed. He’s going home tomorrow. Don’t you understand? I need to be alone with him!

Angie got the shock of her life when her mother immediately rose and announced her intention to retire for the night. When her father quickly followed, then Bud five minutes later, Angie thanked the Lord for His mercy. She swiftly moved from where she’d been perched up on the veranda railing to sit down next to Lance on the steps, her heart thudding at her boldness.

Lance was dressed in shorts and a singlet top, Angie in similar garb. The day had been hot and the night air was only just beginning to cool. Not that Angie felt cold. Sitting this close to Lance was a highly warming experience.

She stared down at her long brown legs, then over at his, tanned to a golden bronze by the long summer days. Her left thigh was barely an inch from his. If she moved it slightly, their skin would touch. She kept perfectly still, knowing her boldness did not extend that far.

‘You don’t get night skies like this down in Sydney,’ he mused, sighing and leaning back a little, the movement making his thigh brush against hers.

Angle jerked her feet up on to a higher step, her knees pressed together to stop them from trembling. So much for her boldness! ‘I…I wouldn’t know,’ she said shakily.

‘Your mum tells me you’re going to come to Sydney to university when you finish school,’ he said.

‘I hope to. If Dad can afford it. Let’s hope we don’t have a drought or a flood during the next three years.’

Lance frowned, as though it would never have occurred to him that one’s fortunes could depend on the weather. ‘If that happens, I’ll pay for you myself.’

‘Oh, I couldn’t let you do that!’ she exclaimed, despite being thrilled that he had offered. ‘The Browns always pay for themselves.’

Lance sighed. ‘So I’ve gathered from Bud. Damn it all, Angie, you must come to Sydney.’

‘Must I?’ she croaked. Her eyes locked with his and her heart filled to overflowing. He feels the same as me, she thought dazedly. He just thinks I’m too young for him to say anything. This is his way of saying he’ll wait for me.

‘Not that I’m sure I’d like you going to Sydney Uni,’ he muttered, but Angie wasn’t really listening any more. She was drowning in his beautiful blue eyes, thinking how wonderful he was and that she wanted him to kiss her more than anything else in the world. She would just die if he went back to Sydney without kissing her.

‘What course do you want to do?’ he asked.

‘What? Oh…er…an arts degree, majoring in psychology, if I get a high enough mark. If not, I’ll do a degree in Social Welfare. I want to work with people, you see. I want to help solve some of the social problems of the world.’

‘That’s a tall order, Angie—solving the world’s social problems. But I think it’s fantastic that you want to try. So, tell me, what do you see as the world’s main social problem?’

‘That’s a hard one. There are so many problems. Look, this is probably a simplistic approach but I think if people made their lives simpler they’d be happier. The Western world is moving too far away from the family unit and family values. I’d like to encourage people to be more serious about marriage and their commitment to raising children, to appreciate how much time it takes to do both well.’

‘And do you want marriage and children for yourself? Or will you settle for a career?’

‘I don’t see why I can’t have both. Of course, my career would always play second fiddle to my family. My husband and children would always come first with me.’

‘Mmm, I see I’ll have to keep a close eye on you when you get to Sydney, or some smart bastard will whisk you off to the altar before you can say licketysplit!’

‘You…you won’t have to worry about that happening, Lance. There’ll only ever be one man for me.’ Having gone this far, she turned her head and stared him straight in the eye.

Those eyes flared briefly wide with surprise, before narrowing to an expression he’d never bestowed on her before. His darkened gaze moved slowly over her face, dropping at last to her softly parted lips then down to where her breasts were clearly outlined against the thin material of her top. Suddenly, she knew what it was like to be the target of a man’s desire. A man’s, not a boy’s. She felt her body respond, everything all at once hot and tight and tingling. Her face flamed along with the rest of her.

‘You’re only fifteen,’ he said abruptly, as though reminding himself.

‘I won’t be fifteen forever,’ she returned breathlessly.

‘True…But when you grow up, you might change your ideas about who and what you want.’

‘No, I won’t,’ she said, her voice firming. ‘Mum says I’m as stubborn as old Wally Robinson’s bull. I’ll feel the same way about you in three years as I feel now.’

She shook his head, obviously still troubled by the situation.

‘Wait here,’ she whispered, and, jumping up, raced inside to her bedroom, returning within no time.

‘I wrote this the first week you came,’ she said, and pressed the piece of paper into his hands.

He read the poem in dead silence before folding the page and putting it down on the step, shaking his head all the while. For a long moment Angie thought she’d made an utter fool of herself. But then he looked up at her and she knew…She just knew she’d been right. He did feel the same.

‘Oh, Angie,’ he said softly. ‘Sweet…sweet Angie.’ And he reached out to touch her face lightly.

His fingertips were like flicks of fire against her already heated cheek, at the same time igniting other flames throughout her body. The words fell out of her mouth—reckless, breathless words.

‘Kiss me, Lance. Kiss me…’

‘You can’t stop there!’ Vanessa wailed when Angie suddenly fell silent. By this time they’d reached the block of units in North Sydney where they lived, parked in the underground garage and were making their way up the internal staircase to their neat little second floor unit.

‘What happened?’ she persisted.

Once she recovered her composure, Angie smiled wryly at Vanessa’s enthusiasm for her story. Underneath her hard-boiled exterior, she was a romantic—like most females.

‘Nothing much. He kissed me, just once. It was quite brief, really.’

‘It couldn’t have been that brief if you still remember it. And if it’s totally turned you off all other men ever since.’

‘I didn’t say I was totally turned off other men,’ Angie explained. ‘It’s just that I’ve been waiting for their kisses to do for me what Lance’s kiss did. I guess it’s a matter of a standard of chemistry never being reached again.’

‘So what was so special about the way this Lance kissed?’

‘I don’t think there was anything really special about his technique. I think it was the way the kiss made me feel that was so special.’

‘And how did it make you feel?’

Angie stopped at their door, her heart squeezing tight again at the memory. She inserted the key in the lock but didn’t turn it, her hand freezing as the words were wrenched from deep within her. ‘Like the world had tipped on its axis,’ she choked out. ‘Like I’d died and gone to heaven…’

It was crazy, but even after all these years she could still remember the feel of his steely arms winding tight around her, the heady, intoxicating effect of his lips possessing hers, the blindingly electric shock that had charged along her veins when his tongue had momentarily dipped past her eagerly parted lips.

But it was what he’d said to her afterwards which had caused the lasting damage.

‘I’ll write,’ he had said thickly, when he’d put her from him. ‘And when you’re old enough, we’ll be together properly. I promise…’

Perhaps he’d almost meant it at the time. She could give him the benefit of the doubt after all these years. But that didn’t change the inevitable outcome of his thoughtless arrogance in making a promise he must have suspected he would not keep, in condemning her to years of hopeless longing. In a way, that kiss had ruined her life.

‘Wow, Angie! You really were in love with him, weren’t you? So what became of him? Where is he now?’

Angie snapped back to reality, firmly pushing the still upsetting memories of Lance to the back of her mind. ‘Happily married to a very rich, very beautiful woman,’ she said with seeming calm. ‘They live in Melbourne.’

‘What did the poem say? Can you remember?’

Of course she could remember. Every heartbreaking, humiliating word.

‘Not really,’ she hedged. ‘It was just a lot of sentimental twaddle, much better forgotten.’ Which was true.

‘I presume he didn’t keep in contact after he left,’ Vanessa said drily. ‘No letters or anything.’

Angie threw her a cynical look as she turned the key and pushed open the door. ‘Only a polite note to my parents, thanking them for having him to stay.’

‘Bastard. There again, Angie, it was only to be expected. He was way out of your league.’

Five minutes later both girls were sitting at the small kitchen table, sipping a reviving cup of coffee. Angie was off in another world—worrying about Debbie—when Vanessa returned to the subject of Lance.

‘Did you see him again after that summer?’

‘Yes. A few times.’

‘No kidding. Where? When?’

‘The first time was a few months later at his and Bud’s graduation ceremony. The whole family travelled down to Sydney to celebrate the occasion.’

‘And?’

‘He was polite to me, but distant. And of course there was this very sexy-looking redhead hanging off his arm all the time.’

‘You must have been awfully upset.’

‘Crushed. I’d still been making excuses for him in my mind, telling myself that he was like so many males when it came to writing letters. I thought once we saw each other again everything would be all right. He would see I was quickly growing up—having turned a whole sixteen by then. He would tell me he was still waiting for me.’

Angie’s rueful smile hid a wealth of remembered misery. ‘Silly me. But it was Bud who finally put the nail in the coffin of my one-sided love that day, when he told me that Lance had been voted Superstud of the Year at the party his faculty had held the previous night. Seems he’d had more girlfriends in the past three years than porcupines have prickles. The redhead was the latest—acquired at that very same party. Bud was already taking bets with his mates on how long she would last.’

‘Hmm. Maybe you had a lucky escape, Angie—getting out with only being kissed. He could have screwed you and your life good and proper if he’d wanted to. You have to give him some credit for not taking advantage of your youthful hormones.’

‘Yes, I did think of that. Eventually. I also believed I’d finally forgiven and forgotten, or at least gotten over him…till I literally ran into him in Sydney one day during my second year at university. I had a mid-morning lecture and my train had been late. I dashed out of Wynard Station, and was racing along the street for a bus when I collided with this man. You can imagine my surprise when I realised who belonged to the strong hands which reached out to steady me. I think Lance was just as surprised.’

‘My God!’ he gasped. ‘Angie…’

Angie tried not to stare at him. But he looked so handsome, dressed in dark trousers and a cream sports jacket. And so sophisticated. Only twenty-seven, but the university graduate was gone forever, replaced by the elegant man-about-town he had always promised to be.

She hated her tongue-tiedness; she hated the way she couldn’t stop staring at him; she hated the way her heart was instantly yearning and hoping once more. She hadn’t gotten over him at all. Not for a moment.

His blue gaze swept over her, taking in her typical student dress of jeans and T-shirt, a canvas backpack slung over one shoulder, battered trainers on her feet. ‘I see you made it to uni,’ he said. ‘Did you get into the course you wanted?’

‘Yes,’ was all she could manage. She’d pictured such a chance encounter happening ever since coming to Sydney, had run over in her mind how she would act. So cool, so casually indifferent.

But there was nothing cool or casually indifferent in the way she was gobbling him up with her eyes. Or the way her heart was pounding behind her ribs. God, what a fool she was!

‘You’re looking well, Angie,’ he said. ‘I was sorry I couldn’t make it to Bud’s wedding last month. I’ve been overseas on business. And I’m sorry I can’t stay and talk. I’m on my way to meet someone.’

‘Oh, that’s all right. I can’t stay either. I’m late too. Look after yourself. Bye.’ And she was off, almost running.

‘Where are you staying?’ he called after her.

Her heart leapt as she ground to a halt and turned around. Oh, God, he wasn’t going to ask her out, was he? Please, God, let him ask me out, she prayed.

‘I need to know your address so that I can send you an invitation,’ he elaborated.

‘Invitation?’ she repeated weakly.

‘For my wedding. I’m getting married in October.’

‘Oh…’ Did she look as stricken as she felt? She must have, for suddenly he looked awfully apologetic.

His obvious pity was the saving of her.

Somewhere she found a smile, a bright, breezy smile to hide her inner weeping. ‘Fancy that! Married! Well, congratulations. Look, why don’t you send the invitation to Bud’s place? I keep changing my digs. Must go, Lance. See you on your big day!’

* * *

‘Surely you didn’t go!’ Vanessa exclaimed in appalled tones, glaring at her over the table.

Angie shrugged her admission.

‘Gees, girl, you’re a glutton for punishment!’

‘You can say that again. What Lance can do for a dinner suit is criminal.’

‘Why on earth did you go?’

Angie expelled a weary sigh. ‘Curiosity, I guess. I wanted to see the woman who’d snared him. Besides, the whole family had been invited, including Mum and Dad. I really couldn’t get out of it without having to answer some darned awkward questions.’

‘And?’

‘Sheer perfection, the bride was. Like a Dresden doll and just as expensive. I hated her on sight and worshipped Lance all the more. It was the worst day of my life.’

‘What about your family in all this? Didn’t they notice anything? Didn’t they see you’d broken your heart over this heartless Don Juan?’

‘I’m sure Mum was beginning to wonder. And I think Bud had guessed some time back. Perhaps as far back as the night of his and Lance’s graduation. He’d made such a point of letting me know about Lance’s reputation where the opposite sex was concerned. Even at the wedding he said he’d make a fortune if he took bets on Lance’s marriage lasting. He said Lance was a great guy but that he wasn’t cut out for monogamy. He added, rather pointedly, I thought, that it wasn’t always his fault. That a lot of the times silly girls—this said looking straight at me—threw themselves at him.’

‘Pretty lame excuse, if you ask me. Hard to rape a guy, I say. Did you speak to lover-boy himself at the wedding?’

‘I tried not to, but Lance seemed to deliberately seek me out. Lord knows why. Maybe he was finally suffering from a guilty conscience. He gave me this ghastly kiss on the cheek, then told me rather stiffly that he hoped life would bring me everything I’d ever hoped for, that he thought I was the nicest girl he’d ever met and that he wished the world could be full of people like the Browns.’

‘Oh, dear,’ Vanessa sighed. ‘Hardly the thing to say to turn you off him, was it?’

Angie swallowed the lump that had suddenly filled her throat. ‘No,’ she confessed. ‘Not quite…’

Vanessa was frowning at her. ‘You’re not still in love with him, are you?’

‘No, of course not,’ she returned impatiently, standing up abruptly to carry her empty mug over to the sink. ‘That was donkey’s years ago. Don’t be silly.’

Vanessa joined her at the sink. ‘I hope you’re telling the truth, for it would be silly of you to still be in love with him. It’s also silly for you to keep knocking back other men because of the way some rich creep once made you feel. Get your head out of the clouds, Angie, and get real. You’re not getting any younger, you know. One day you’ll wake up and you won’t see a cross between Elle MacPherson and Sophia Loren in the mirror, and then it’ll all be too late!’

Angie had to laugh. Vanessa had a turn of phrase which could be highly amusing. A cross between Elle MacPherson and Sophia Loren, indeed!

‘You’re going to your brother’s birthday party tonight, aren’t you?’ Vanessa went on, with a devious gleam in her eye.

‘Yes…’

‘Is it a big party or just a small gathering?’

‘Bud’s parties are always huge.’

‘What’s your brother do for a crust?’

‘Well, he did a business degree, majoring in computer studies and marketing. But he went into advertising and he’s been surprisingly successful.’

‘Then his party should be full of eminently suitable candidates, shouldn’t it?’

‘Candidates for what?’

‘Your first lover.’

Angie was about to protest when she stopped herself, all those maudlin memories of Lance sparking an uncharacteristic surge of recklessness. Maybe Vanessa was right. Maybe even Debbie had been right this afternoon. Life was meant to be lived. To remain ignorant and inexperienced just because she was clinging to a crazy dream was indeed silly.

‘At least go with an open mind,’ Vanessa urged. ‘Promise me that if a suitable candidate shows up, whom you’re genuinely attracted to, you’ll think about giving him a chance.’

‘All right,’ she said, suddenly making up her mind to do just that. ‘I promise.’

‘Now you’re being sensible.’

Which was what Lance had said about her more than once that summer. How sensible she was.

Well, she was sick of sensible! Her resolve to follow Vanessa’s suggestion deepened. She would find herself a real lover as opposed to a fantasy one. It was time. Yes, it was definitely time!

‘I’m going to make sure I look smashing tonight,’ she said through clenched teeth.

‘Attagirl!’ Vanessa crowed. ‘Go for it, sweetheart. You only live once!’

Ten o’clock that evening found Angie regretting the trouble she had gone to over her appearance. She received enough male attention at parties at the best of times. Done up as she was tonight, and smothered in perfume, she seemed to have reduced potential candidates to panting pursuers, thereby ensuring her revulsion. She hated men who came on too strong, who delivered obvious lines then expected her to melt instantly at their feet. If one more intoxicated fool said ‘your place or mine’, she was going to scream.

There again, she supposed it was her own stupid fault if they all thought she was on the make. She should never have curled her long auburn hair and worn it provocatively over one shoulder. Or let Vanessa talk her into borrowing her outrageous gold and crystal earrings, which were five inches long and looked incredibly sexy.

On top of that, she hadn’t been able to wear a bra under the petticoat-style party dress she’d bought specially for the occasion, and her naked nipples were patently obvious under the silky material. She should have bought the black one she’d first tried on, but the salesgirl had talked her into the green, saying it matched her eyes and complemented her auburn hair.

If she’d tried the dress on instead of just holding it up against her, she’d have known that the green didn’t camouflage her body as well as the black. Angie began to worry that from the back she might look totally naked under the dress, despite wearing tights with built-in knickers.

Spotting a glassy-eyed chap making a beeline straight for her across Bud’s crowded living-room, Angie whirled and made a dash for safety, gripping her glass of wine firmly in both hands lest she spill it all down her front. She found a temporary sanctuary in the kitchen, where Bud’s wife, Loretta, was happily refilling serving dishes with all sorts of party snacks.

‘Oh, hi, Angie. My, but you do look slinkily glamorous tonight. Bud said you had all his workmates drooling. Now I can see why. You had a jacket on when you first arrived, didn’t you? Darn, there goes the front doorbell again. Could you get it for me, love?’

‘Sure.’ Angie didn’t mind at all. It was better than going back into that room with all those heavy-breathing yuppies.

She sipped her wine as she made her way along the downstairs hall towards the front door, thinking as she went that Bud had really done very well for himself for a country boy from Wilga. A thriving career as an advertising executive, a lovely home in the leafy North Shore suburb of Turramurra, a very pretty wife and a delightful little boy, named Morris after their father. All this, and only thirty today. Remarkable.

Angie opened the door and promptly froze.

The man standing on the front porch, with his hands deep in his trouser pockets and an overnight bag at his feet, had his back to her. But she knew immediately who that well-shaped fair head belonged to. She’d have known him from any angle.

It was Lance.