Melting Ms Frost (24 page)

‘Hi, Aidan.’

Glancing over his shoulder from the open locker in front of him, Aidan smiled as Donna came into Cluny’s small staff room set across the hall from Annabel’s office.

‘Donna, hello. How are you today?’

‘I, um, have something for you.’

‘For me?’ He closed the locker door and turned to face her, noticing the small pink polka-dot cake box in her hand.

‘What’s this?’ he asked, taking the box and opening it to reveal a cupcake decorated with tiny white and pink and red heart sprinkles. Oh, no. ‘Ah. You made this?’

Donna nodded shyly. ‘You said how much you like cake the night of your birthday.’

Had he? He remembered chatting to Donna in the Louche Lounge but in all honesty couldn’t recall much of what had been said. It had been a Saturday night after all and the volume of the music had been pumped right up to satisfy the weekend party crowd.

‘Well, thank you,’ he said, watching her head to the lockers and hoping his suspicions about the motivation behind the offering were wrong even though those bright edible hearts declared otherwise. ‘That’s very kind. It looks delicious.’

She fiddled with the lock in front of her for a moment before looking at him out of the corner of her eye. ‘Taste it now if you like.’

What could he do? Taking the cupcake from the box he took a hefty bite and swiped little hearts off his lips with his thumb. ‘Mmm. Tastes as good as it looks. You’re a great cook.’

‘I don’t know about that,’ she demurred at the same time as looking delighted by the compliment. ‘I just love to bake. Perhaps you’d like to come over some time and I could show you? I make brilliant croissants.’

Oh, dear. If she was offering breakfast food it was definitely a come-on. The bashful Donna had found the courage to flirt, but the last thing he wanted to do was lead her on. As uncomfortable as a rejection was going to be, especially to that budding newfound spirit, it was better to end this now, and to do it as kindly as possible.

‘Thank you for the invitation but I don’t think that’s such a good idea.’

‘Oh?’ She looked suddenly crestfallen.

‘Forgive me if I’m wrong, but I think our expectations might be a little different.’ He watched her expression drop further. ‘You’re very lovely, Donna. And I’m immensely honoured, but believe me, I’m not the man for you.’

She looked momentarily pole-axed but rushed to pull on a brave face. ‘Oh, I didn’t mean …’ she started to lie then nodded as her face crumpled. ‘Oh God, I’m sorry,’ she cried, turning her attention to getting her locker open and depositing her handbag inside.

‘Hey, now.’ He gave her an understanding smile. ‘There’s nothing to be sorry about. As I said, I’m honoured. I just know we’re not right for one another.’

At that, a tear escaped and ran down her cheek, making him feel like a total heel. Reaching across the distance between them, he gave her shoulder a fortifying squeeze. ‘Please don’t be upset.’

‘I – I’m just so embarrassed,’ she said, staring hard into the locker and not at him.

He gave her arm a bolstering rub. ‘You want to hear embarrassing?’ he confided. ‘I once crushed so hard on a colleague that I did everything to try and put myself in her path, up to and including arranging to “coincidentally” run into her one day at this yoga session I’d discovered she attended. There I was, posing in my gym kit thinking I was everything cool as I smooth-talked her into thinking I was an expert at this particular form of yoga when she called me out by asking how many weeks gone I was. Turns out it was a specialist class for strengthening the birth muscles in pregnant women.’

It worked: her own distress had been momentarily forgotten, wiped from Donna’s face by the look of fascinated horror that had replaced it as she turned to face him.

He nodded. ‘True story.’

‘Oh, no!’ she said, her hand covering her mouth in shock. ‘What happened after that?’

‘Not the happy ending I’d been hoping for, that was for sure. And to this day I can’t see anything to do with yoga without cringing.’ He popped the rest of the cake into his mouth.

That earned a giggle from behind her hand.

‘When you’re quite finished there, Donna,’ Annabel’s voice came from the doorway behind them, icy and clipped. ‘Perhaps you’d like to get on with what you’re paid to do?’

Donna jumped before he released her and turned.

Annabel looked right at him. ‘And if you’ve nothing better to do with your time then I’m sure the kitchen staff could use some help putting out the rubbish.’

She spun and stormed through the door into her office.

Donna rushed to close her locker and scurry off to the dining room while he gave the door opposite a thoughtful look before approaching it.

Before he’d made it across the hallway, the door opened again, revealing a glinting-eyed Annabel. ‘What are you still doing here?’ she demanded, cuttingly cold.

He made sure to meet that daggered look. ‘I want to know what that was all about.’

‘How dare you! You don’t get to question me here. I was doing my job, which is more than could be said for you. This isn’t a social club – if you want to fraternise with your colleagues, do it in your free time, not on the company’s. Just get out there and do what you’re paid to do. I have nothing more to say to you.’

She looked about to charge past him so he stepped forward, filling the doorway.

‘Sorry, Annabel, but I think you’ve still got plenty to say. And I think you need to say it.’

‘And who cares what you think?’ Instead of trying to battle her way past, she let go of the door and turned and walked back inside the office.

Aidan followed her before it could swing closed. ‘I think
you
care about something here to be getting so worked up.’

She swung on him. ‘Oh, I care. I care that I get value for money out of my employees. I care that they respect that they’re here to work, not flirt with each other.’

‘Flirt? That’s what you think was going on with Donna? She was upset, Annabel. I was offering her some comfort.’

Annabel actually advanced a few steps towards him, seething. ‘You were
laughing
! Both of you. I heard it. I saw it. Laughing and touching. So I guess the joke’s on me, eh? I deserve it for being such a fool, for letting you try and fuck with my head with your twisted games when it’s obvious you’re capable of being entirely normal with women.’

‘This is about me touching Donna? It was a sympathetic hug nothing more. It didn’t mean anything beyond a casual act of kindness. I’m flattered by your jealousy but Donna is nothing to me but a colleague.’

‘I’m not jealous,’ she raged.

‘Oh, yes you are.’ And the idea delighted him to the extent that he couldn’t help the smile that stretched across his mouth even though it was likely to get him killed. ‘Those lovely eyes are flashing as green as emeralds.’

‘You can forget about this,’ she sneered before turning and walking towards her desk. ‘I’m finished with you. This is over.’

No, it wasn’t. He felt his fists clench at his sides. ‘It hasn’t even begun, Annabel.’

‘Exactly!’ She pirouetted to glare at him. ‘And I’m starting to doubt it ever will. You keep saying you’ll touch me but you never do. If you really wanted me then you’d show me. You’d stop this silly power game and touch me!’

Annabel’s angry taunt ignited the smouldering fuse of his own frustration. In a few strides he was across the room, bulldozing her back against the bank of filing cabinets.

He slammed his hands onto the metal cabinet either side of her, bent his face close. ‘Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep my hands
off
you?’ he all but shouted back. ‘Every fucking day I have to fight myself, Annabel. And every day it gets harder.’

She breathed hard as she looked up at him, grabbed his shirt front in an attempt to pull him closer. ‘Then don’t fight it, do it.’

For a split second all he was aware of was the feel of her touch. He wasn’t sure how, but he found the strength to resist. He hadn’t come this far to risk it all in a moment of weakness. ‘The moment you’re ready, so help me, I will.’

Her hands stopped pulling and shoved sharply against his chest instead. ‘That’s such bullshit. I’ve done everything you’ve asked.’ She was shaking with anger, but more importantly, with emotion. Whatever she might say otherwise, that was proof enough for him that Annabel Frost did care.

‘And this is your definition of ready?’ He ruthlessly pushed his advantage. ‘You think this little hissy fit is a demonstration of your trust?’ Her eyes widened at his insult but he didn’t give her time to get sidetracked by it. ‘Do you?’ he demanded, right in her face.

‘I don’t know,’ she yelled back in his.

‘Keep your voice down,’ he warned. ‘Someone will hear.’

‘I don’t care!’ she raged, her ire over-riding her common sense. ‘I don’t know what more you want from me.’

‘For fuck’s sake, Annabel.’ He slammed both his palms against the filing cabinet in frustration, making her flinch. ‘You do know. I just want you to say yes. Say yes and mean it.’

‘I’ve said yes.’

‘You’ve said the word, but you’re the one still fighting. Stop! Stop fighting and show me that you mean it right here, right now. Say yes to Vienna. Say yes to giving me everything. Say yes to it all.’

Her eyes were flashing, chest heaving, her lips parted so she could suck in air. Sexual tension was thick in the room. Their heated exchange had ignited more than her temper, it had fired her blood. His too. He felt every bit as aroused as she looked. Christ, he could only imagine the mess they’d make of each other, their clothes, the office if he let his control snap, if he wedged her roughly against the filing cabinet and claimed her mouth, her body, like he wanted to do.

He let his chin drop to his chest, closing his eyes, breathing deep. The exotic scent of her filled him, left its taste on the back of his tongue.

‘Annabel.’ His voice was a reedy scrape of sound but he didn’t try to hide it, or cover the depth of his yearning. She needed to know how much this meant. He opened his eyes and opened himself, letting her see just what it meant to him right there in his gaze. ‘Say yes.’

Her own eyes widened as they searched his and caught a glimpse of what he’d laid bare. Then she seemed to shrink in height as all the tension drained out of her body. She let out a sigh and when she answered him, her own voice wasn’t much better than a thready scratch either. ‘Yes.’

When Annabel tried to casually mention the news over Christmas breakfast the following morning, her mother’s reaction was everything she’d dreaded it being. Beside herself with excitement, Ellen all but started compiling lists of names for her future grandchildren.

As they sat there wearing paper crowns from the crackers her mother had insisted they pull as part of the only celebratory meal they’d share for the day, it was impossible for Annabel not to feel a stab of guilt over leaving her. ‘But are you sure you’ll be all right on your own?’

‘I’ll be fine.’ She brushed Annabel’s concern away in favour of apparently more important matters. ‘What are you wearing?’

‘Really? That?’ she asked critically once she’d harried Annabel into the bedroom and assessed the dress that was pulled from its protective dust cover.

‘Yes. Why not?’ It smelled slightly musty from neglect but, having only been worn once before, was as long, black and classically practical as the day she’d bought it. She couldn’t see anything wrong with it that a trip to the dry cleaners wouldn’t sort out.

‘You’re going to a Viennese ball to waltz in a skirt that tight?’

Waltz? Was she serious? Did anyone under retirement age waltz any more? Annabel eyed the slim column of silk. ‘Well I don’t have anything else.’ And as she’d already insisted on paying her share of the trip – including having a room of her own – she wasn’t wasting any money on getting something new. ‘It’s this or nothing.’

Although Ellen didn’t say anything further, the look she tried to hide by turning away said she considered ‘nothing’ to be the better option.

And that look haunted Annabel for days until a fit of doubt had her asking questions of Google that swiftly led to her seeking answers from one of Cluny’s regular customers, Ivy Lord, a local businesswoman who ran an exclusive dress hire company.

‘Oh, yes. Viennese balls are all about the dancing,’ the vibrantly dressed Ivy said, sizing Annabel up where she stood in the centre of an equally vibrant private Soho showroom lined with rails of clothing. ‘And they’re taken very seriously. There are over two hundred major balls crammed into their winter carnival season alone …’ she continued talking as she walked to the rear wall of the showroom and started skimming her fingers over the tops of the hangers ‘… most of which preserve and observe strict traditions that represent the height of civilised society.’ Fingers stopping suddenly, she grasped a hanger and unhooked it. ‘Now this Westwood would be perfect.’

Ivy spun to face her, holding a strapless but full-skirted gown in shades Annabel would describe as olive and khaki.

‘Not many people can carry the colour,’ Ivy said, her thoughts running in the same vein as Annabel’s. ‘But with your ethereal complexion …’ She pursed her lips in contemplation. ‘Try it on.’

Twenty minutes later, still doubtful about the entire adventure, let alone the dress, but having succumbed to Ivy’s firm assurances, as well as the special discounted deal she offered, Annabel stepped out onto the street with the roped silk handles of a large dress bag looped over her shoulder.

Annabel knew she’d been too rash in agreeing to this. Of the multitude of reasons she could list in support of this being the worst idea of her life, she was currently preoccupied with just one. She’d never been on a plane before. And as the engines roared to life and the force of the acceleration down the runway left the craft shuddering around her, she doubted she’d live to find herself on one ever again. Gripping the armrests of the window seat she was plastered to, she tried not to throw up as, with a sickening lurch, the plane left the earth – and her stomach – behind.

However, that sensation was nothing compared to the bottomless horror she felt when she glanced out of the small window a moment later and saw the ground drop away beneath her at an alarming rate. Nor did it come close to the sheer terror that gripped her when the frightening view was suddenly obscured by a dense grey blanket and the plane started bumping around in mid-air.