As Weekends Go (Choc Lit) (11 page)

Nick watched the three of them teeter off down the paseo, before rounding on Gary. ‘And you can stop smirking! Waving your fucking phone around!’

Gary let out another howl of laughter. ‘Calm down, Nico. Just a few pics for the boys album, that’s all. I’ve said it a thousand times over, buddy, what goes on tour, stays on tour. Serves you right for getting engaged, you doughnut!’

Not quite, thought Nick. I need to propose first.

Rebecca knew she’d drunk enough champagne, because she’d reached that giggly ‘could either laugh any minute or start blubbing’ phase that came with having such a nice time that she didn’t want it to end, because it momentarily blocked out all the shit going on in her life.

She hadn’t lost control, and wasn’t slurring, thank goodness, just talking too much, and probably flirting a tiny bit, which she really shouldn’t be doing, but given that it was Alex Heath and that he was so fantastic looking and charismatic, and in a few short hours had lifted her spirits no end, she’d forgive herself this once.

In any case, he’d neither said nor done anything ungentlemanly.

Not that she wanted him to. She had a husband at home.

Tears sprung to her eyes.

Husband at home
. She couldn’t remember when she’d last felt relaxed around either.

She blinked several times and pasted on a smile. Alex was on his way back over, having briefly left her alone to go and speak to Liam Tyler again. The last thing she wanted was for him to see her upset. Hooray for the candlelight! And for the relative privacy of their booth. Initially they’d been stared at, yes, but she certainly sensed less curiosity up here; the whole purpose and attraction, for some people, of a designated lounge, she supposed. Abi definitely approved, she’d wandered off with Kenny for a guided tour.

Blimey! First class train tickets. Room upgrades. VIP area.

Was someone trying to tell Rebecca something?

Bloomin’ champagne.

She shuffled along the booth as Alex reclaimed his seat. ‘Everything okay?’ she asked, seeing the slight look of frustration on his face.

‘Just Liam being Liam again. I know we’re officially on our holidays but one of the downsides of seeing teammates out socially is feeling like you have to keep one eye on them.’

‘Yes, I had noticed he seems to be a bit of a loose cannon,’ said Rebecca, still shuddering from being hoisted upward by him. Similar to your mate Kenny, she wanted to add, given how quickly he’d ‘lost it’ downstairs with dancing dinosaur and co, although she’d reserve judgement awhile on that one. She could hardly say she knew Kenny well.

Alex looked as if he wanted to comment further but then thought better of it and instead took a sip of his water.

‘I think it’s nice that you look out for them,’ said Rebecca, hoping he didn’t feel as though he’d broken any loyalties. It wasn’t as if Liam Tyler’s overindulgences hadn’t already been well documented in the press, and Rebecca certainly wouldn’t be repeating anything.

Alex stared at her long enough to trigger that warm internal glow of hers once more, and then smiled at her. ‘Let’s talk about you,’ he said, the tenderness in his voice giving her goosebumps. ‘Have you been to York before?’

‘No, but my husband has,’ said Rebecca, inadvertently weaving Greg into the conversation. ‘I haven’t seen much of it yet, to be honest, but we’re hitting the shops tomorrow, so that should be fun.’

‘Sounds serious.’

‘Mmm … best take the plastic, I think.’

‘Oh, right. Well, if I fall over a big pile of carrier bags in reception, I’ll know whose they are.’

He picked up the champagne bottle, shook it to check the contents, and topped up Rebecca’s glass, allowing her to study him more closely. She noticed a small ridge of scar tissue under his chin, the tiniest flaw in an otherwise gorgeous face. So gorgeous it made her taste buds dance, which in turn made her gasp out loud, startling him completely.

‘Oh, my word, we owe you some money,’ she said, scrabbling in her bag for her purse.

Alex frowned at her.

‘For the food bill downstairs in the restaurant,’ she said, ignorant of the cost. ‘And what about all this champagne?’

‘No way!’ He held up his hand in protest. ‘Considering what’s gone on tonight, it’s the least we can do.’

Somehow, Rebecca didn’t feel patronised.

‘Thank you,’ she said, putting away her purse. ‘That’s very kind of you both.’

‘It’s a pleasure.’

Gulp!

Rebecca crossed then uncrossed her legs, fiddled with her hemline a bit then her neckline, forced a couple of coughs, anything to obtain a minute’s composure time.

‘Clubs like this are everywhere in London,’ said Alex, having to lean so close to be heard above the latest dance anthem, that he could have brushed noses with Rebecca, Eskimo-style. ‘Much like Leeds and Manchester.’

‘I wouldn’t know. This is the first one I’ve been in for ages,’ she said, catching another glorious waft of his aftershave as he shifted position. ‘I mean, I do go out, but not without my husband that much. Not that he’s out of the Dark Ages or anything, I just don’t make a habit of sitting in nightclubs with other men. It was only that you and I had already met, and … oh lord, I’m making a real hash of this, aren’t I?’
Waffle, waffle, waffle, Rebecca.

‘No, you’re not. I know exactly what you mean,’ said Alex, putting her at ease.

She let out a sigh, urged herself to slow down a bit. She’d end up with hiccups otherwise.

‘Well, as long as you don’t think I’ve made an exception because it’s you,’ she finally said, feeling more relaxed again. ‘As in taking advantage of that fact, I mean.’

He shook his head, as if what she’d said was the most ludicrous thing he’d ever heard in his life.

‘Rebecca, you don’t have to justify yourself to me at all.’

It felt strange hearing him say her name.
Nicely
strange.

He leaned forward to pick up his glass, giving Rebecca the perfect view over his shoulder.

Uh, oh!

Abi and Kenny were sitting on two of the white leather swivel stools at the champagne bar, feeding each other peanuts. Or were they olives? Either way, the two of them were getting very chummy indeed. Kenny kept nuzzling Abi’s neck. What would Nick say if he could see her?

Come to think of it, what would Greg say if he could see his wife fraternising with a hunky footballer?

Rebecca wasn’t sure she knew the answer to that one right now.

She peeped at her watch. It was far too late to text him, let alone call him. Poor signal on his phone or not, if she woke him up now he’d have the right hump.

‘Past your bedtime, is it?’ said Alex, bumping elbows with her.

She laughed as he pretended to duck. ‘Of course not. Some of Greg’s work events go on forever, I’ll have you know.’

‘Greg’s your husband, right?’

Rebecca nodded.
Oh, God!

‘So, what does he sell? Only Abi said something downstairs about him being at a sales conference.’

‘Printers, photocopiers, that sort of thing, mainly for business use,’ said Rebecca, using the cocktail list to fan her face. ‘Most of the equipment’s leased. Not by Greg, personally; his firm are the finance company between supplier and client. Greg could sell anything to anyone. Tried to trade me in once. Threatened to swap me for three camels.’

‘That many?’ said Alex, ducking again. ‘I’m sure he loves you, really.’

‘I’m sure you’re right,’ Rebecca replied, the rawness of her emotions heightened once more.

‘How long have you been together?’

‘I met him nine years ago, but we didn’t really get together properly until a while after that. Long story! We’ve been married four years.’

He took a moment to digest this. ‘Kids?’

‘Not yet,’ said Rebecca, digging her fingernails into her palms. ‘You?’

‘Nope! I split up with my last girlfriend about a year ago,’ he said, volunteering no further specifics.

‘And you’re sitting here with me when you could be chatting to all these lovely hostesses?’

Whoah! Where did that come from, Rebecca. You are never drinking again. EVER!

Alex didn’t even flinch, just smiled down at her and said, ‘Because rightly or wrongly, I’d rather talk to you, Mrs …?’

‘Stafford,’ she squeaked.

‘Stafford,’ he repeated. ‘Nice name. Nice perfume too. What is it?’

‘Organza.’

‘ORG –
what?
’

‘OR-GAN-ZA!’

‘Sorry, I thought you said something else,’ he said, stifling a grin.

Rebecca fought the compulsion to giggle. He’d looked so taken aback and now hurriedly had to switch back to professional mode as a couple passing by with their arms around each other, doubled back to greet him.

She focused on the booth in front whilst he spoke to them. A young black man with cornrows, sitting side on, looked vaguely familiar. Possibly in
EastEnders
? Or was it
Emmerdale
? She’d drunk so much she was getting her soaps confused. Maybe if she heard him speak it would help.

Which reminded her. Alex’s accent. Perhaps she could ask him about it.

Good. The couple talking to him had ambled off.

Oh, maybe not. Abi and Kenny were now coming over.

‘Hello, you two,’ cried Abi, beaming down at them. ‘Had a good chinwag? Kenny’s popping outside for a ciggie, if you fancy one, Bex? I told him you occasionally partake. He said we can use the fire escape. I’ll come with you, if you like. I could do with some air.’

‘
Er
 … you’re all right, thanks.’

‘What? I thought you’d be desperate for one after tonight’s carry-ons. We could try and get some Silk Cut from somewhere if you like?’

‘Honestly, I don’t fancy one,’ said Rebecca.

She did. She just didn’t want Alex assuming she was on twenty a day.

Although, why his approval mattered?

Abi’s eyes flitted between them. ‘You don’t mind if we steal her for five minutes, do you, Alex?’

Ah … she’d been rumbled.

‘Not at all,’ he said, looking bemused as to what all the fuss was about. ‘As long as you bring her back.’

Wow! Greg would go ballistic if Rebecca ever said she was popping outside for a fag. Especially in front of his work crowd, even though it was acceptable for him to chomp on the occasional ‘social’ Havana, she noticed.

Abi was staring at her, all misty-eyed.

‘Come on, woman!’ said Kenny, shattering the moment. ‘I’m getting withdrawal symptoms.’

‘You’d never believe he was a personal trainer, would you?’ said Abi, watching him tap a cigarette out of his packet and shove it behind his ear. ‘What an advert, eh? Twenty Rothmans and a shedload of beer and bubbly.’

All four of them laughed.

Still, as much as Rebecca would have liked a ciggie, the thought of breathing smoke fumes over Alex when she came back inside didn’t seem right. She had his health and fitness to consider. Nothing at all to do with the fact that it would deaden the smell of her lovely perfume.

Abi ducked round the back of the booth. ‘Is that the old sparkle I see back, Mrs Stafford?’ She pressed her lips to Rebecca’s ear. ‘Must be all this wanton chemistry flying around.’ She turned to go. ‘Where’s Kenny?’

‘Already gone outside,’ said Alex, pointing towards the fire escape. ‘With Liam!’

Rebecca glanced at Alex who looked less than impressed.

‘Well, then I shall stay here with you two instead,’ said Abi. She poured herself a flute of fizz, and motioned for Alex and Rebecca to budge up. ‘Have a little chatty-poos with Mr Heath here.’

With more than a glint of mischief in her eyes, Abi started mock-interviewing him.

‘Twenty-nine?’ she cried, upon discovering Alex’s age. ‘I thought you were older than that. Did you hear that, Bex?’

‘I knew you were twenty-something,’ Rebecca admitted, addressing him personally.

Poor man. Must be like being sandwiched between two vipers.

Yet Abi was doing her a favour. In spite of what she’d already learned about him tonight, and also knew from the sports pages, Rebecca was eager to know more about Alex Heath, the person.

She watched him field Abi’s questions, most of them about the glitzy side of football, none of which he shirked. She’d almost forgotten who he was, he seemed so normal.

Unlike Kenny, who, upon returning from wherever he’d been hanging out with Liam, started buzzing round the booth like a demented bumble bee.

‘Long fag break,’ said Alex, a little curtly, Rebecca thought.

Kenny winked at him and turned the attention on Abi. ‘Fancy another dance, treacle?’

‘Yeah, why not,’ she said, her annoyance that he’d buggered off without her fading.

Kenny gestured her forward.

Rebecca braced herself as Liam and his gang approached their booth.

‘Later, Skipper,’ said Liam, slapping Alex on the shoulder, whilst eyeing Rebecca’s legs.

Alex didn’t even bother looking up at him. ‘See you Thursday, Liam.’

‘Yeah, Thursday, man.’ Liam shunted his girlfriend, clutching her pink stilettoes to her bosoms, towards the exit.

‘What’s happening Thursday?’ asked Rebecca, realising too late how nosy she sounded.

‘Pre-season training,’ Alex replied. ‘Some of the squad are already back, but those of us who had extra international games over the summer were given a few more days off.’

In spite of her tipsiness, Rebecca pondered the connotations of this.

Another reason he’d been able to extend his stay at Hawksley Manor this weekend.

Fate or coincidence?

They fell silent as the lights dimmed. The DJ had started gradually winding down the tempo. Rebecca imagined if it was Greg sitting beside her now and not Alex; all the excuses he’d be making not to dance. One hint of a ballad these days and he fled to the bar or toilets. They hadn’t slow-danced together in ages.

She snuck a sideways glance at Alex, her eyes drawn to the clutch of chest hair just visible above the opening of his pale blue and white shirt.

What would it feel like to slow-dance with him?

‘What are you thinking about?’ he asked, soft in her ear. She closed her eyes at the feel of his breath on her face. ‘
Rebecca?
’

She opened them.

‘Tell me,’ he said, the depth of his stare leaving her in no doubt of his attraction to her.

Ashamed at how easily he’d aroused her, she shied away from him. ‘Nothing,’ she said, looking anywhere but back at him.

Alex took his phone out of his pocket and started checking it, giving her time to compose herself, she suspected. Or himself, perhaps? She might have had one too many, but that was desire she’d seen in his eyes. And every nerve ending in her body screamed acknowledgement.