Conditional Love (42 page)

I cast my eyes down at the page. Could I do it? Could I spend the next six months standing so close to him, knowing that I could look but not touch?

‘Sophie.’ He rested his hands gently on my arms.

He was touching me. In front of my dad.

I might faint.

I raised my head and peered at him over my scarf.

Once he had my attention, he continued, ‘I’ve done and thought and said all the wrong things ever since we met. But have I got this right?’

Dad coughed, deposited his empty mug in the sink noisily and informed us that he was going for a stroll round the village. Norman leapt to his paws and trotted after him.

‘I don’t understand,’ I said quietly. ‘Why have you gone to all this trouble? I’m not even officially a client anymore.’

He sighed. ‘Because I can’t stop thinking about you, because I know I’ve been a total idiot, because I didn’t know what else to do to prove to you…’

What I did next was a bit forward, but it felt right. I stepped a tiny bit closer until the toes of my Ugg boots (not real Uggs, but the ones that flop down after five minutes and ruin your instep) touched the toes of his super-shiny, smart shoes. We were so close that I wouldn’t have been surprised if he could hear my heartbeat.

‘Prove what?’ Well, why not make him work for it?

‘That my intentions towards you are not entirely professional.’

I burst out laughing. That was such a Nick way of putting it.

‘I must inform you,’ I said, regarding him earnestly, ‘that I fully intend to take that as a compliment.’

Nick visibly sagged with relief and relaxed his grip on my arms.

‘How did you get my Dad roped into all this? And more to the point, why?’

Nick cleared his throat and looked sheepish. ‘I Googled you. Found you on Facebook. Saw your brother on your friends’ list. Brodie put me in touch with Terry.’

‘Ooh, a cyber-stalker! Very clever. It wouldn’t even occur to me to do that.’

I am such a liar.

Nick leaned back against the worktop and looked up at the ceiling before gazing at me with such intensity that I could hardly breathe.

‘And the reason I did it was because of the story you told me about him in Starbucks. I knew that once he had been reacquainted with his daughter, he would jump at the chance to help her out. That’s what dads do.’

Was this a guilty conscience talking? My heart pounded. Should I admit overhearing his conversation with Phil Strong? I had to say something, give him the opportunity to explain himself. But was I ready to hear the truth, even if the truth was ugly?

‘Is that how it is for you?’ I nibbled on my lip and waited for his reaction.

‘Sorry?’

‘Would you do anything for your child? Joanna’s child?’

I regretted my words instantly. Nick’s face turned to stone. Very pale stone. He stared off into the distance, shaking his head. When he spoke, his voice was gruff and low.

‘Joanna is the ‘ex’ I told you about. The relationship that nearly ruined my career. She was a client.’

I knew that. I’d Googled her, obviously. I nodded at him to go on.

‘What I didn’t tell you was that she broke my heart.’ He gave a harsh laugh. ‘Smashed it into a million pieces, actually.’

‘We’d been together a year when she announced she was pregnant. It took me some getting used to, but I was delighted and asked her to marry me. She asked for time to think about it and disappeared for forty-eight hours.’

He rubbed a hand over his face and his eyes met mine. ‘When she came back, she’d had a termination. I had no say in the matter.’

I could have cried for him. It all made sense now: the pain in his eyes when I told him about Jess; his interest in my own family saga.

‘Apparently, she is now ready to be a mother,’ he raised an unimpressed eyebrow, ‘but she’s having problems conceiving. And in an attempt to lay the blame elsewhere, decided to tell her new boyfriend that I’d persuaded her to get rid of our baby. Anyway.’ He stood up, gave himself a shake and smiled. ‘I’ve been to Manchester and had it out with her. It’s sorted now.’

I knew it! I knew he wouldn’t have behaved badly. What a relief! I was ashamed to have even contemplated it.

A feeling of euphoria and anticipation crept over me. It was that smile of his. A smile that lit up his face, and carved a dimple in his cheek. A smile that hinted at unprofessional intentions. I smiled back.

He was in front of me again. ‘I’ve got an overwhelming urge to kiss you,’ he whispered, his eyes boring into mine.

Time seemed to slow right down and I was glad because I wanted this moment to go on forever, the moment when he slid his arms around my waist and pulled me in close. Then his lips dipped down towards mine, my body melted into his and I gave myself up to his kiss.

The relief at being in his arms was so sweet, I could hardly breathe.

I looked up at him and grinned. ‘What about your “hands-off-clients” rule?’

‘I’ve changed my mind.’ He unwound the scarf from my neck. It took him about three circuits of my head. It was a very long scarf. He rolled his eyes as he dropped it to the floor. ‘I can see definite advantages to this type of working relationship.’

He moved his lips to my neck and placed a row of hot kisses down to my collar bone. I shivered and felt my knees go weak with desire.

‘Good,’ I said, pulling his face back to mine, ‘because otherwise I’d have to sack you again.’

We kissed once more, clinging to each other as if we were afraid one of us would change our minds. The intensity of my feelings for him was almost scary. But at the same time, nothing, no one had ever felt so right.

‘So you like the extension idea, then?’ he said finally, pulling away from me to look deep into my eyes. I missed him already and reached out to touch his dimple. I nodded.

‘You really don’t mind not being able to build your dream home?’

I thought about it for a moment. ‘What you’ve designed
is
my dream home and I think Great Aunt Jane would approve too. Besides…’

I took each of his arms and tucked them round my waist until our bodies were pressed tightly against each other.

‘I feel perfectly at home exactly where I am.’

About the author

Cathy Bramley lives in a small village in rural Nottinghamshire with her husband, two daughters and a very bouncy dog. She has spent most of her career in PR and marketing, running her own agency.

Cathy is a fan of Masterchef, strong coffee, chocolate brazils and Marian Keyes books. She is addicted to her Kindle and has an irrational fear of bananas.

Conditional Love is Cathy’s first novel. She hopes you like it enough to connect with her online…

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