Follow a Star (15 page)

Actually, when he sat there like that, decorating one of her dining tables so beautifully, you couldn’t tell that Mr Cavanagh was vertically challenged at all. Small but perfectly formed, she decided. And probably a very hard dog to keep on the porch, she was willing to bet, unsure whether to feel envious of or sorry for the girlfriend he was expecting.

‘So may I order some breakfast?’ he asked, that mellifluous brogue snapping her out of her trance. Fiona felt the blush spreading over her face and picked at an imaginary bit of fluff on her skirt to hide her embarrassment.

‘Yes, of course. Sorry, I was …’ She gave an apologetic shake of her head, but she could see from the gleam in his eye that he was well used to the effect he had on women. Looking round to see who else was waiting, she caught sight of Paul glaring at her from the door to the kitchen and couldn’t resist a bit of sport at his expense.

‘Now, what can I get you?’ she said, leaning forwards seductively. There was a pause, whilst Mr Cavanagh held her in his dark gaze and considered the matter with a slow smile.
Phwoar!
He certainly knew how to make a girl’s legs shake, didn’t he? Not that Paul really needed to worry, she decided, as she took the order back to the kitchen. Oh, their guest was gorgeous to look at and very well mannered, but there was something about him she didn’t quite trust. Still feeling quite light-headed, she was trying to decide what it was about him that didn’t quite add up as she walked into the kitchen where the heat hit her like a blast furnace.

‘About time,’ said her husband from a very long way off. ‘I thought I was going to have to drag you off him. Any closer and you’d have been sitting in his lap!’

Paul’s features were blurred as he turned towards her, adding to her sense of confusion. And just as the room started to spin and her legs buckled under her, Paul raced forwards and caught her just in time.

Reaching the concrete sea defences that guarded the lane down to Watling’s, Bill slowed the van to a crawl and turned off the Foo Fighters. It had been a long worrying night at the hospital, but Cecil had surprised them all. His temperature was back to normal for the first time in days and the chest infection, which had come so close to overwhelming the old man, had suddenly responded to antibiotics.

‘We thought we were losing him,’ one of the nurses told him afterwards, ‘and then you arrived and it was as if he made up his mind to carry on. I think you saved him.’

Choking back his own grief, Bill had sat there holding his uncle’s hand and telling him all about the boat. And when he’d finished talking about
Lucille
and there was still no response, he told Cecil all about the wonderful girl he’d met, even though he was certain the old man couldn’t hear him. Then, just as the dark night gave way to the pale light of dawn, and he had drifted into a half waking, half sleeping dream, he felt his hand being squeezed and looked up to find Cecil’s blue eyes twinkling at him above his oxygen mask.

The old man was struggling to tell him something, so Bill got up and gently lifted the mask from his face.

‘Now, young Bill, I hope you’ve taken good care of that boat of mine, because I’ll be checking on her in a few days when I get out of here.’

In the light of his remarkable recovery, the hospital was hopeful that Cecil was fit once more for surgery. But Cecil had one last request to make before Bill went home to snatch a couple of hours’ sleep.

‘That crew I hired to bring the boat round. May someone. I’d like to meet her to thank her. Will you sort that out for me?’

No problem, thought Bill, grinning to himself as he surveyed the boatyard in front of him. It was going to be a memorable day; he could feel it in the air. Seabird-song danced on the warm wind blowing through the open windows, the indignation of bickering oystercatchers squabbling along the shore, gull ululations spinning in an azure sky and the plaintive piping of a lone curlew. Ahead of him the fresh morning sunshine bathed the boatyard in lemon light and the cluster of small boats herded in their berths jangled and frapped, straining to be set free as they caught the stirrings of the tide. On board one of them was May, waiting for his return.

Glancing towards the neat weatherboard buildings standing black, solid and timeless on one side of the yard, a glitter of sea-green glass revealed that one of the buildings was not as industrial as first glance would suggest. Harry had, as a very young woman fighting hard to keep the boatyard business started by her father, converted one of the boatsheds into living accommodation. Being Harry, she’d carried out most of the work herself, not least because George, her old assistant, was probably more of a hindrance than a help. It was also typical of Harry to stick at a task however daunting, so the boatshed, with its lofty proportions and amazing views, was now an enviable home.

And across the creek was Samphire
,
its great glass façade elegantly reflecting the natural beauty of its setting. Funny to think that this was the same place that had caused so much controversy in Little Spitmarsh. Some people, like the guys who ran the florist business in town, spotted a business opportunity whilst others, Harry most of all, resisted anything that would threaten the unique character of the sleepy resort. Did anyone seeing Harry and Matthew so at loggerheads then think they would wind up together?

Bill smiled to himself; much as he admired Harry, he wasn’t sure
he
would have been brave enough to take her on! For a tiny woman she could certainly throw her weight around, although she had mellowed somewhat since becoming a mother and she was tigerish in her defence of Matthew when she thought he was taking on too much work. Strange what love could do … Never had he imagined when he’d picked up the woman he’d supposed was a gold-digger at the start of his voyage that he would end up falling in love with her.

The van stopped abruptly as Bill stalled the engine. Wait a minute – fall in love? What was the matter with him? Had he forgotten his own warning about false intimacy, the heightening of emotions that pitting your wits against the elements could bring? Just because his loins ached at the thought of her, or that his lips longed to rain kisses on every part of her, or because the warm feminine smell of her would haunt him for as long as he lived, didn’t mean he was in love with her. The only way to trust his feelings, he decided, starting the engine, was by testing them on dry land where he had an invalid uncle to nurse, and a build that needed serious attention before the client threw him off the site. And what chance was there for any relationship that started with so many competing demands? But what was the alternative?

It was only a short roll downhill into the boatyard, but it was enough time for him to work out that it was too soon to give up. Leaping out of the van, he strode purposefully towards
Lucille
, only to find Harry, hands on hips, scowling at a spot further along the creek.

‘Everything okay?’

‘You tell me.’ Harry looked up at him with troubled grey eyes. ‘I think your first mate just found herself a new skipper.’

May tensed as her lover and mentor, the man she’d once thought was so perfect, Aiden Cavanagh, reached towards her. ‘Why did you think I’d simply let you go like that? Hmm?’ he said, twisting her hair back from her face so that she was unable to hide behind it. ‘You must have known I’d come looking for you.’

At first, she couldn’t believe her luck when charismatic Aiden Cavanagh told her he could take her places. He had, too: dinner at The Ivy, tickets at the best gigs in town, a fairy-tale five-star trip to Paris. Anxious about her talent and ability, she felt as if she’d been sprinkled with stardust when he promised to take her all the way to the top.

Knowing that it would be crazy to complicate a professional relationship with personal feelings, she’d hidden her attraction to him by feigning indifference. But Aiden, with his bedroom eyes and low, lilting voice had worn her down. With hindsight, she realised that holding out on him had made her irresistible. It was typical of the man to want what he hadn’t got. All his success hadn’t been achieved without a very great deal of determination behind the relaxed façade. Once she’d lived for his praise; now she was wary and afraid of enraging him.

In this secluded coil of the creek, they were quite out of sight of anyone watching from the boatyard, but she still found herself crouching lower in the long grass in case Bill came looking for her. Worrying about the possible consequences for both of them if he was to find her now, she was very conscious of the thudding of her heart. She was anxious too about her dry throat which was bound to make her voice breathy just when she needed to demonstrate that she was relaxed and in control.

If only she’d checked before automatically answering her phone. The first person she’d thought of was Bill, calling her with news from the hospital. But Aiden
?
Her initial instinct was to wonder if she could cast off in
Lucille
and hide in the backwaters until she’d taken in the fact that he was there, just a mile or two away from her. She dismissed the idea because it would have been unfair to Bill to add a missing boat to his worries. Besides, it was only postponing the inevitable. She wasn’t surprised that Aiden had tracked her down, only that he managed to find her so quickly.

‘Listen, I understand that you’re embarrassed because a lot of people think you’ve let them down, but you can’t just run away from everything, because the word will get out that you’re flaky too. If you’d left it to me, we could have limited the damage, but you’re going to have to pull out all the stops if you want to save your reputation. You really should have trusted me, May. Am I so much of a monster that you couldn’t even face me?’

May closed her eyes, trying to harden her heart against the soft Irish lilt that was trying to carve its way back in.

‘Am I, May?’ he insisted in a low voice. ‘A monster? With no feelings? Is that why you thought it was fine to pack your bags when I was away on business? Did you think, somehow, that I wouldn’t notice you had left? Or perhaps you thought I wouldn’t care?’

She gave herself time to answer, keeping her face turned away from him, determined not to be won over, and focusing instead on the soothing rhythm of rippling glassy-green wavelets, their foamy crests being held up by the breeze. If she looked at him, saw the mischief and menace in his dark eyes, or the amusement playing across his handsome face, she’d be lost. He could dissect her at a stroke; chief tormentor in one breath, tearfully, tenderly apologetic the next.

Every time she’d tried to end their relationship, he promised not to hurt her again, promised to change, simultaneously implying she was the one at fault. Sometimes, like after her failed gig, she even blamed herself for making him angry. No wonder it had taken her so long to leave. When he reached across and tried stroking her hair again, she shrugged him off and edged away as far as she dared.

Sighing, he lay back on the grass considering his next move before rolling on his side. She could sense him studying her. ‘I’d forgotten how beautiful you are,’ he said wistfully.

‘Oh, you forget every time you go away!’ she said, unable to stop herself boiling over. ‘Every time some star-struck girl thinks you can give her a leg-up with her career. Or a leg-over.’

Oh, the irony of it! Once upon time, she’d been one of them.

He laughed softly and moved closer to her. Ran his fingers down her spine. ‘Ah. So this is what all the fuss is about. You wanted to teach me a lesson.’

He pulled himself up and leaned in to touch his hand to her chin, but she pushed him away.

‘May, please,’ he coaxed, catching hold of her fingers before she could stop him. ‘Okay, I admit that I haven’t been a saint, but there’s nothing like coming home to find that the woman you love has packed her bags and left to make you take a long, hard look at yourself. We can sort this out, can’t we?’

Her head swam as he traced a circle in her palm and a great surge of remembered desire rose through her at his nearness. The heat of his taut body, the familiar sandalwood and spice scent of his aftershave. She recalled how beautiful he’d seemed to her at the height of her infatuation, his dark hair against white sheets, his dark eyes flashing as he whispered a new trick to her, how willing she’d been to do anything to please him. Even now, she was ashamed to discover, he could still evoke a treacherous need within her.

‘I’ve a king-sized bed waiting back at my hotel, so just stop this nonsense and come back with me, will you?’ he murmured against her throat, fuelling her arousal.

Don’t do this,
she warned herself, lifting her head anyway and giving herself away with a sharp intake of breath as he nuzzled against her. How could she help it when he was the one who’d trained her? The man knew where to touch her, how to make her respond.

‘There’s a fine big bath there too,’ he added, as the heat spread through her. ‘If you don’t mind me saying, you look as if you could do with it.’

May stiffened, suddenly conscious that she’d let herself go faster than you could say man – or in her case, woman – overboard. Along with her designer dresses, her high heels and highlights, she’d ditched everything that gave a girl bounce and shine in the right places. What about her hands? She looked as if she hadn’t had a manicure in weeks. Aiden liked her to look understatedly sexy and well groomed and, even though he had a weakness for red, she doubted whether he would be impressed by her torn cuticles and chapped fingers. Only a week ago she would have felt ashamed of the way she must look to him, apologetic even. But something had changed and now she astounded herself.

‘No,’ she was staggered to hear herself say. ‘It’s over.’

Aiden gave a short laugh of disbelief as if, without warning, she’d turned round and slapped him.

‘Just listen to yourself, will you?’ he mocked, shaking his head as if he couldn’t comprehend what he’d heard. ‘What’s happened to my sweet girl? When did you learn to answer back?’ He fell silent, watching her with a feline intensity that made her afraid of what was coming. Somehow she managed to stay calm and not rush into a garbled reply.

He sighed, apparently exasperated and threw up his hands in a gesture of defeat. ‘All right. All right, if you want a confession, I’ll give you a confession. I work all the hours the good Lord sends and when I stop all I want to do is sleep. Sleep. With you in my arms. I’m only human, May. Sometimes the loneliness got too much to bear and, yes, I strayed. But if I ever had another woman, it was you I missed, you I wanted.’

He took her by the shoulders and held her gaze. ‘I promise you,’ he said, his voice dropping almost to a whisper, ‘not one of those other women meant a thing to me. Not one. Say you believe me, will you, May?’

Still the same Aiden; a look of sorrow in his dark eyes and his mouth lifting with a contrite, wicked smile as he waited for her to acquiesce.

A solemn and dutiful child, May had learned to take her place as the quiet one in the family whilst her parents, Cathy and Rick, and her little sister, Stevie, made exhibitions of themselves at every opportunity. Under Aiden’s intense gaze, she had blossomed. He’d made her feel wanted and important for the first time in her life. He’d made her throw away all the outfits he said were boring and unflattering and insisted on buying her clothes to reflect the woman he said she was. He’d changed the way she wore her hair and make-up, told her she was sexy, encouraged her to lose her inhibitions. And whenever Cathy or Rick made a nuisance of themselves, pestering her and turning up unannounced, he’d tell them where to get off.

‘May?’ he said with a hint of impatience, leaning forwards and cupping her face in his hands.

‘No, Aiden. Not this time. You mean it now, but it won’t last. I won’t let you do that to me again.’

He squeezed her face a little tighter, until the pressure became uncomfortable, but she returned his gaze, unblinking until he groaned and leaned his forehead heavily against hers. ‘You need me, May. You owe me, remember? You can’t just walk away from me.’