Limerence (4 page)

It’s getting late by the time that Oliver calls me. Mr Breckt's designers have kept him there going over all the plans until long after everyone else has left the site.

“They just went on and on, Mia. ‘Can you change this? Can you do that?’ Honestly, I don’t know why they even need me, since they have such clear ideas on what they want,” he sighs.

“Yes, but they don’t have the skill to put it in place like you do, Ollie. You know you’re a genius when it comes to these things.” I massage his ego.

He’s silent for a moment. “I guess so. Nice flattery, by the way.” I hear him smile. “I’m so glad that Bill’s given me the opportunity to finally showcase what I’m all about on this project, but I still thought that we were a team. I can’t believe he didn’t bother coming back to help me. I mean, there are some huge changes…” he pauses and then carries on, “what with the little blue garden part.”

I can feel him trying to come to terms with this new development. Neither of us knows how to deal with it—with him, Mr Breckt. He’s arrogant and obnoxious, yet deeply captivating, demanding my attention even when I refuse to give it.

“I know, baby. It’ll be all right though.” I say with doubt in my voice.

“He’s named it…had a plaque made and everything.”

I groan. I can sense where this is going. “Named what?”

“The garden—your garden.”

“Yeah. It’s going to be called
Mia’s Blue
.” He snorts out a laugh, and then goes silent whilst he waits for my response.

What can I say? I look across at Rachael on the opposite sofa; she raises a questioning eyebrow at me.

I decide to make no comment on it and move the conversation on. “What does Bill have to say about it all?” I ask instead.

“I couldn’t get hold of him,” he says. “I’m pretty sure he would think it was funny though. You know what he’s like.”

Bill is a great guy, and a great boss to Oliver. He’s been single for as long as I’ve known him; his heavy weight and pockmarked skin from bad acne in his teen years do nothing to gain his affections with women. It’s such a shame because he’s a great guy.

“Anyway, I’m just letting you know that I’ll be home soon, but I’ve got to start early in the morning. We’ve had to order extra flowers in, to go with the new colour scheme.” He says bitterly. “They’re being flown in from a specialist supplier, but they’re going to arrive early, and someone has to be here to collect them. Since I can’t get hold of Bill, I guess it’s my job now.”

I can tell Oliver doesn’t like being over there anymore; all of his earlier excitement has been lost. Although he will never admit it to me, I know that he feels threatened by his new employer, and I know that I’m partly to blame for that.

Mr Breckt is strikingly handsome, wealthy beyond words, and has the confidence and swagger to pull it all off. But there is something else there—something I can tell both Oliver and I feel. He feels dangerous, a sense of something inexplicable coming from him.

My stomach rolls at the thought of him, although in excitement or panic I’m not sure. He has frequently crossed my thoughts all day. His eyes, his smell, the way he kissed my hand. I shake my head in shame. No matter how much I try to put him from my mind, he is still there, niggling away like an addiction.

“Mia? You still there?”

I’ve been quiet for too long, lost on my own reverie of Mr Breckt again. It’s ridiculous, really; I’ve only met him once, and I’m acting like a lovesick schoolgirl. My stomach lurches again. Oh God, is that what this is? Love? Is this what books mean when they talk about love at first sight? No, this doesn’t feel the same as what I feel for Oliver.

Now
that
is love. Without question.

I look across at Rachael again, and she feigns a yawn and waves her hands at me to hurry up. I smile at her and mouth ‘
shut up’
.

“Yes, baby. I’m still here, just thinking.”

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Hurry home though, okay? I miss you.”

“Will do.”

I blow him a kiss down the phone, and we say our goodbyes. Rachael pours us both another drink.

“So? How’s lover boy?” she asks.

I roll my eyes at her. “He’s fine. Tired, I guess.” I look down at my glass, deep in thought.

“Well then, tell me about this Mr Breckt character. He sounds delicious, Mia.” She takes another sip of her wine, not realising that something is bothering me. “I mean, he sounds like I would want to eat him up. It’s probably best I don’t meet him,” she laughs.

I frown at her. I know that she doesn’t mean to come across insensitive but… well, she does come across that way.

I nod in agreement, shrugging it off. “Well, Rach, if I couldn’t stop staring at him…you would have most definitely dropped your knickers before he’d even said hello.”

Rachael feigns offense and we both burst out laughing. I’m feeling a little tipsy already.

“Seriously though, what’s he like? I mean, you’ve said he’s good looking but . . . well, I don’t know. What’s he even doing here?” Rachael looks quizzical.

Our town isn’t known for its high-end attractions, so to speak. We are a small town best known for the fishing and sightseeing up in the mountains. We don’t attract a lot of attention.

I shrug. “I’ve no idea what he’s doing here, honey. He doesn’t seem the sort to blend in. I mean, he’s gorgeous, Rachael. Drop-dead gorgeous. If I’m honest though, he was cocky, really cocky, and not in a good way. And he is far too self-assured for my liking. There is something about him though. I don’t know what it is, but,” I’m groping around for the right word, and coming across every one but the one I am searching for.

“Wow, Mia. Self-assured, cocky, attractive? Sounds like our old head teacher!”

We laugh again at the joke. Rachael had the biggest crush on our high school head teacher, and had purposefully gotten herself into trouble just so she would end up in his office for his stern telling-offs. He had been a younger man from out of town—well, younger than our previous head teacher, who had been ancient to our small minds.

“Honestly though, I’ve no idea what he’s doing here,” I shrug again. If I carry on like this, I’m going to end up with spasms in my shoulders.

She drinks the last of her wine. “Well, as long as he’s paying the wages, I guess it doesn’t matter what he’s doing here then, eh? Although I’m still hoping he’ll be coming over to the mainland at some point. I reckon I could be in with a chance of a date, or more. Especially since Kate from the math department has gone travelling.” She grins.

“Really? So she finally did it, then?” I ask.

“Seems so. She didn’t turn up for work this morning, and nobody has heard from her for a couple of days. I’d be worried, but to be fair, she’s said for weeks now that she was just going to up and go one day. Well, looks like she finally plucked up the courage to do it.”

*

It’s over half an hour later when Oliver turns the handle to the apartment. I jump up when I see him, padding over with a warm smile on my face, and throw my arms around his neck.

“Oliver, baby,” I whisper into his ear. My long hair brushes his fingertips, and he holds me close.

“Hey.” He holds me at arm’s length, examining my face as if seeing me for the first time, a little
V
forming between his eyes when he speaks.

“It’s been such a long day,” he kisses the top of my head tenderly, “and it all starts over again tomorrow.” A weak smile crosses his face as he tries to pass off his words as a joke. “I’m sorry about tonight. I know you were looking forward to it, Mia. It’s like I said, I’ve got to go over there really early tomorrow morning.” He seems more exhausted by the thought of going back into work tomorrow than the actual work he has to do.

I tilt my mouth up to meet his, and our lips touch briefly. “Don’t worry, baby, I understand.”

The truth is I feel guilty. He’s had to work late because of me, and now he has to go in early because of me. I hadn’t asked for the flower garden, or the courtyard, but regardless, it’s being put there because of me. I release him and he trudges over to the sofa, slumping into it as he rubs his hands down his face with a sigh.

I feel his eyes watch me move to the kitchen as I get him a cold beer from the fridge. Rachael has thoughtfully made herself scarce.

“Did Mr Breckt say anything else to you today?” I ask as I hand him the beer. Sitting down next to him, I reach for my wine glass. I don’t know what I expect Oliver to say. My brain wants him to say no, he didn’t say anything to him—in fact, he didn’t even see him all day. However, something else—something buried deep down—is waiting anxiously for any news on ‘him’.

Oliver looks into my face as he searches for his words. “No, I didn’t see him after you left.” He looks away. “I’m tired, Mia. Like I said, it’s been a long day. And I don’t want to talk about what happened today, before you start.” I raise my eyebrows. Clearly he knows where my line of questioning might have been leading, and I blush.

“I don’t like him—Mr Breckt or his…his guards?” he continues with a huff. “Who has security like that anyway? I mean who does he think he is? A pop star?” he snorts. “Well, whoever he is—or
they
are—for that matter, I don’t care. I don’t want you going back over there, Mia.” He looks at me again, his expression serious. “I’m going to get this job done as quickly as I can, and then we can get him out of our lives.”

He takes a deep gulp of his beer. I watch him, my eyes wide. “But Ollie, I was going to paint a mural of the garden, before it was torn up. Remember, for the college reception?” I try not to whine; nevertheless, it comes out like that.

He looks at me with frustration. “I know, but it looks like it’s not going to be torn up now anyway, doesn’t it.” He shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant, but I can see through his façade and his dig at me stings. “The guy is weird, babe, he just…I just…I don’t want you anywhere near him. I don’t trust him. Something happened today with you and him.” Oliver is struggling for something else to say without sounding like a jealous boyfriend.

He fancies the pants off you, and I’m not certain that the feeling isn’t mutual.
I can hear his unspoken words, and can’t argue with them. My heart sinks.

Something
did
happened today. Something had come over me and I can’t explain it. I don’t want to go back there, either; I don’t want to see Mr Breckt again.

Yes, you do
.

I don’t trust him.

Or yourself,
my subconscious screams out.

There is a battle of wills raging in my head, which is giving me a headache.

I move closer to Oliver. “Okay, baby,” I whisper into his neck, and snuggle in, resting my head on his shoulder. “He’s a jerk, his guard is a jerk, and his designers are jerks.” Oliver turns and smiles sheepishly at me as I continue. “Maybe you can take some photos for me or something? I dunno’ but we’ll figure it out somehow. Let’s forget about him now. Let me run you a bath, and I’ll get you something to eat.” I kiss his cheek tenderly.

He smiles again, closing his eyes as I saunter off to the bathroom. I turn the taps on, and as the bath begins to fill I pour in a bath oil. It’s musky and soothing, and the smell fills the room and makes me smile. Oliver loves it, although he would never admit it to anyone.

My thoughts drift back to earlier. I think about when Mr Breckt looked at me. The way he had stared, his green eyes had almost sparkled; he knew exactly what he was doing. And then having Ollie put in a flower garden for me. What did he think that was going to achieve with that? I scowl at the memory.

The arrogance of him.

Well, I’m not interested. No matter what he does.

Keep telling yourself that.

I grumble and turn off the taps to the now full bath, and make my way to where Oliver is dozing on the sofa.

I murmur in his ear from behind. “Baby.”

“Mmmmm.” He shifts uncomfortably in the chair, rousing himself from his five-minute nap.

“Baby, your bath’s ready.” My hand moves to his hair, and I pull my fingers through its unruliness. I kiss the side of his cheek as I lean over.

“Mmmmm.” His arms move round, pulling me in one swift movement on to his lap. Giggling, I push my face into his chest, breathing him in.

He cups the back of my head, kissing the top of it while his hands move to my hips and pull me closer to him, and I climb to straddle his lap. Our bodies squash together in the small confines of the sofa. His face moves to my neck, his nose trailing down it as his mouth leaves soft kisses in its wake.

I take in a deep lungful of him. He smells of sweat and body wash and Oliver—grass and flower trimmings. He’s sweet but musky, all wrapped up in the perfect package. The smell of him urges my desire on, and my hands move to his messy hair. I run my fingers through it, pulling his face to mine. I kiss his lips, stealing his tongue into the warmth of my mouth as the fire builds within me.

He groans, low in his throat, while his fingers trace up and down my back. It’s my favourite of all sounds. His hands are moving under my blouse, and he pulls his mouth from mine and kisses down to my chest. His fingers deftly undo the buttons down the front and then kiss the soft mounds of my breasts. His sandy blonde hair brushes at my skin, and I shiver from its delicate contact.