Instruction in Seduction (17 page)

She smiled, but it felt hollow. He was pushing too hard again. He had a life. So did she.

She couldn’t keep up this charade that they were just an ordinary pair of lovers. She was playing someone she wasn’t. Her heart was still iced over and tender and scared to trust in tomorrows.

She wasn’t a ‘Sex List’ person. She was living a lie and so was he. Nick was as in denial as she was.

“This weekend. You, me. Alone somewhere special.” He kissed her mouth but there was catch in her throat.

“Okay, but let’s take it as it comes,” she answered.

She didn’t need a lover who was destined to go from her life. She couldn’t bear to need someone and risk the loss. Or know he’d jeopardise his son’s welfare too readily.

She had to send him home for his own good.

Nick flipped her over. Recovered in very little time and clearly ready to make his point, and himself, felt. He pressed his taut hardness to the entrance to her molten centre. Ailsa was again all sensation. She felt herself melt and drown in the fulfilment of her own extreme need and longing for this man’s attentions. He buried himself in pleasuring her, unconcerned for his own need in his slavish attentions.

How could she stand to lose this connection?

“Can’t get enough of you,” he told her in a deep whisper.

Ailsa shut her eyes. Knowing things were escalating and she wasn’t dealing with this well; he was confusing things. Attaching himself to Edinburgh; getting in too deep and throwing grenades like expectations and promises into the room to cause maximum emotional carnage.

The man did for her sanity what icebergs did for the Titanic’s maiden voyage. Nick’s pushy, Alpha attitude was the lethal iceberg.

And Ailsa knew she was already sinking fast; wanting him so badly her mind wouldn’t fathom what she intended to do about it.

***

“Jump in,” Nick instructed, opening the car door after stowing Ailsa’s bag in the boot. “Game for two blissful nights by the sea?”

“A secret hideaway?”

“It’ll be worth it when we get there.” Worth it didn’t cover it. He’d pulled out every whistle and bell he knew. And right now he had a Right Honourable Lady to thank for their elite weekend venue.

Since their last meeting his thoughts had been a mad jumble. He’d thought seriously about calling off, right to the last minute; he’d considered claiming illness. But he’d known damn well that wasn’t the way to go. Because he wanted her as badly as ever and if Ailsa was still going to finish with him, he still wanted that last piece of her.

If they were going to talk, to confess to real feelings, to admit that now was the time to either draw things to a close or go the extra mile it had to be done face to face. Yet he sensed the darkening clouds in Ailsa.

He wanted to cut the engine and quiz her right there and then but he held himself in check.
Don’t spook her, you’ve enough surprises.

The beach house, when they got there, had been well hyped by Lady Howby. It sat in a sandy cove overlooking the lapping waves of the Forth – a gated country house at one side with a private jetty and beach at the rear. This was Scotland’s secret cognoscenti coastline. Old money abounded in the splendid isolation of Fife’s secret Riviera.

It had it all. The sea view. Bed the size of a highland glen. Isolation and a Jacuzzi tub.

“Perfect retreat for uninterrupted hedonistic pleasure?” Nick ventured.

“Perfect,” she answered with a tight smile.

But the mood had shifted even with the perfect tableau and the champagne on ice as arranged. An extra large bouquet of roses and scented lilies centre stage in the vast picture window and a single rose on the pillow to match his requests. He watched her gulp and immediately he knew his actions were too hopeful.

Ailsa gazed out at the sea. She removed her jacket.

Then he took the bottle from its ice bucket. “Want one?”

Nick saw the serious look in her eyes and could tell she didn’t intend to stay. “I don’t think we should.”

“Lady Howby doesn’t just let this out to anybody. The strings I pulled were major.”

Ailsa open palmed the air, “Huge thanks. But I can’t do it.” He watched her expression darken. “Please Nick. Don’t make this harder.”

He took her hand, “Tell me, why?”

“Me,” she gulped. “This. Our voyage has to end. Your ship is anchored. Mine’s been adrift so long it’s never coming back. Don’t take this and turn it into a new course for either of us.”

“What about salvage, S.O.S? Will nothing work?” He unwired the popper and uncorked the bottle with his thumbs then poured them both a glass anyway. But he knew they wouldn’t taste it.

“You need to go back to Jake and we need to stop kidding ourselves. I’ve been living somebody else’s version of life and now I need to shake myself.”

He caught her eye. “But I want the real you. Not the vamp, the come-ons. The broken esteem and crazy sense of inadequacy needs fixing but I can help you with that because I love you enough. I’m not going to lie and say I’ve regrets.”

She gulped again. “It still has to stop.”

“Very final,” he said removing the box from his pocket. So unwise; so ill-timed but as life-vests went it was all he had. “Then I must be crazy to think you might just have wanted this.” He looked at the ring and tossed it on the sofa.

***

Ailsa was gobsmacked.

“But it doesn’t matter does it? We’re over,” he repeated. He laid the ring box on the table between them. “I should never have taken things so seriously.”

Ailsa reeled as she watched Nick pace. He looked at her; she could see hurt and anger there in the tight, hard planes of his jaw but there was also resignation.

“You’ve decided the list thing’s completed, that’s good,” the way he said it made it sound positively disreputable. “I guess I’ll be getting along like a good little man. I’ve serviced you sufficiently and my time as the favoured one is over.”

Ailsa felt her emotions cyclone. She palmed her temples.

“You know that’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” he yelled.

She knew she’d been caught, caged; fighting with her own mixed up logic.

She pleaded, “I had no idea you were thinking long term like this. I just thought getting things straight would be sensible. I can’t believe we’ve crossed wires so badly. It’s better to end it this way.”

“Better for who?” Nick pushed a large strong hand out to take her wrist. “Do you know I’ve been making excuses to stay here longer? Working out how Jake’s future can fit? How I can ensure you stay part of my life. Now you’re giving me the brush off like your list’s had the final tick.”

“One of us has to be sensible,” she breathed. He turned away from her as if he’d been scalded.

“Which saves me making a total fool of myself making stupid declarations.” Nick grabbed his coat and picked up his keys. They hadn’t unpacked; the only evidence of their brief sojourn was the opened but untouched champagne. The cleaner would be delighted. A portrait of it could’ve been titled, Premature Proposal.

“Don’t be this way.” But she didn’t want to approach him, didn’t want to touch him; way too dangerous. Touching Nick was like poking a riled badger with a stick; it had repercussions that jeopardised important parts of you. He might pull her into his arms and then how would she resist? They both needed this but she’d hoped it could be amicable. She’d fooled herself.

She stalled, seeing the ring in its leather box, placed right beside it was a glimmering, fluffy, perfect soft white feather. Pristine in form, just lying nearby like it had fallen there.

Ailsa gulped. “Where did that feather come from?” she whispered.

“A maid set the place up to my requirements. Maybe she has a feather duster. Or thinks they’re romantic?”

She felt her mouth dry.

Kirsty?
Nope, crazy talk.

Was she finally getting her call?

“Don’t do this Ailsa,” Nick whispered. “I love you. You don’t think I’d buy a ring on a whim? This means so much more than some overblown sex list.”

Ailsa shook her head. “I don’t know what else to say. I just know I can’t.”

He retaliated swiftly, “What have you to lose? You say you hate modelling. You have a business dream but you’re not pursuing it. What wonderful life am I missing? Why wouldn’t you live with me?”

“Maybe I wouldn’t be enough for you either.” A tear rolled down her cheek and she roughly wiped it away. “We’ve known each other a month. And you’re asking for life commitments. It’s too soon, Nick. Go home, Nick. Be a good Dad to your son.”

Silence hung. She saw in his face that her words had moved him.

“You know, I wanted this weekend to be special,” Nick said. “Not just spending time in bed, spending nights and days with you. I wanted to know you properly. You can’t do it; you’re not capable. You’re closed to getting close.”

She rose from her seat, picked up her jacket and retrieved her bag. “You finally understand me. When Mum died, part of me did too.”

Nick drew himself up, all strong, dark heat and mounting glaring hurt pride. “Then, you were right; the charade needs closure. I hope you find a new list and someone who’s happy with as little as that.”

***

Maybe he had lost his marbles even considering this a logical next step. Scouring the jewellers and antique shops of Edinburgh looking for something just right. The special ring, the candles, the mood music, when the timing had been kaput.

In Nick’s world, he’d fallen, from a height. Ailsa was the woman that mattered. Why wouldn’t he propose, suggest making things permanent in the only way he knew how?

He’d tried being sensible but sometimes sense didn’t count.

He’d still be there for Jake and for Amanda; that wouldn’t change. But he’d be so much stronger with Ailsa by his side. Yet she just couldn’t see it.

Stupid fool. Heart on sleeve idiot. She only wanted you for sex.

How mad was he? Banking on tomorrows when they’d had no real todays to start with. For her it had just been physical. For him it had developed into so much more. But hey, he’d live. Nick drove her back in strained silence. Dropped her at Sally’s flat and told her he’d find somewhere else. She tried to refuse, of course, but he zoomed off before he could listen to more draining objections.

Nick drove away, his gut twisting like car-wreckage steel. He even managed to let the radio’s wounding strains of Hall and Oates’ “Kiss On My List” wash over him without inducing ironic strained humour or anger.

It was over and time to go home. Not worth breaking a sweat for, he lied and pretended his world hadn’t bottomed. Pretended Ailsa hadn’t gone and notched up another tick on her List. And broken his heart into tiny, smashed shards.

***

Ailsa didn’t ever want to speak to anyone again.

She wanted to hide. Wear pyjamas for weeks. Call in sick from work, have a good cry, get over that she’d probably never, ever have sex that good in her entire life again. Her private parts may well shrivel up and die and she could devote her life to chanting anti man mantras.

“Oh God,” Lisa’s tone from the kitchen told it was some bad news just to round off the day. Yes she was at Andy’s tiny flat with Lisa and she felt like she was getting in the way of their happy coupledom while she searched for somewhere of her own to stay.

“That’s terrible,” her tone said it was serious. “He’s okay? Will she be alright? What about his son?”

The word son had Ailsa on her feet beside her yanking at her sleeve.

“I’ll tell her,” Lisa concluded. “Send him our wishes, will you?”

Lisa replaced the receiver and bit her lip. “Sally says there’s been an accident. Amanda.”

“Jake’s Mum?”

Lisa ran on, “Car crash on a country lane. She’s used to American side driving. And because she’s famous it’s been on the news and we must have missed it. Look let’s fire up the laptop for the full gossip and look on teletext. The car wreck’s horrific but she and her man escaped okayish.”

“What about Jake?” Ailsa pushed.

“He wasn’t there. Thank heavens.”

Lisa flicked with the remote and searched for an item she quickly found.

The article told how Amanda MacGuire had been in a head on collision on her way back from a weekend at a country retreat. Her young son had not been in the car but her partner, actor Mark Brodie, had escaped with minor injuries. Tonight Mark was at her bedside at the Royal Lister Hospital in London. Her son, earlier reported to have been involved, was safely at home with family.

“Nick’s gone south, Amanda’s had a close call. He needs to care for Jake.”

“How terrible.” Ailsa could feel herself shaking.

“Terrible for Nick,” said Lisa. “An earlier report said Jake was involved. He’d been supposed to go away for the weekend with them but at the last minute stayed home; it probably saved his life. But must’ve scared Nick to death. Imagine?”

Ailsa almost went to pieces at the revelation about what Nick had just been through. And he hadn’t called, hadn’t needed her support. Why would he after her let downs and selfishness?

“You okay?” Lisa checked.

Ailsa nodded. “Fine.”

Her memory drifted to the still boxed ring in her handbag. The one Nick must’ve purposefully put there like a painful reminder of how disposable she’d made him feel. Did he really expect her to keep it, or weaken? Now he was gone.

“I’ll make drinks. Maybe Nick’ll phone when things settle,” said Lisa.

“Doubt it.”

But in her heart she was aching, wishing she could undo her actions. He’d gone and would never return. Nick’s world needed him back. She’d got her wish.

His brief diversion to her bed was over. And Ailsa would just have to live with the guilt that she’d thrown it all in his face.

Chapter Twelve

Amanda McGuire had lived with Nick Palmer on and off for years before she’d moved out to The States. Even now she often stayed in his London abode when UK acting work came up; in a separate annexe of a palatial Fulham home.

This Ailsa read in black and white for herself in “Hot Celebs Magazine”. It boasted glossy photos of Amanda reclining against her Provencal lace pillow shams in a splint, neck brace and with a glam smile.