Melting Ms Frost (42 page)

‘Well. I wanted to thank you for sorting out my flat. And for everything you’ve done. You’ve been really kind. You must tell me what I owe you for the cleaning company.’

That was greeted by silence, although she was aware of a fair bit of background noise. Was he at work?

‘And I also wanted to apologise for walking out the way I did. After everything you’ve done for me it was incredibly rude.’

She heard him sigh. ‘But not entirely unexpected.’

He expected her to be rude? Well of course he did, because she was. But the thought of him thinking ill of her bothered her.

‘I was hoping maybe I could take you for a coffee or something, say thanks.’

‘You’ve said it.’ He paused and she could hear muffled voices in the background. ‘Nothing else is needed, Annabel.’

Boy, he wasn’t making this easy. ‘I’d like to see you anyway.’

There was a short silence and then another sigh. ‘I don’t think that would be a good idea.’

‘Oh.’ That place in her chest ached again. ‘Well, I’m back at work tomorrow,’ she said, hoping the little twinge of excitement at the prospect of seeing him didn’t make her sound too desperate.

‘That’s good.’ His voice faded a bit as though he’d turned his attention away from the phone. ‘I’m glad you’re feeling better.’

God, this distant politeness from him was horrible.

Before she could think of what to say that might reach across that distance, he said, ‘Listen, Annabel. I have to go.’

‘Oh, OK. I’ll see you—’

‘Take care,’ he muttered as though he wasn’t listening and then the phone went dead.

He’d shut her off, quite literally. And just because she knew it was no more than she deserved, didn’t make it hurt any less.

She stared at the phone in dismay, realising that she’d been relying on him to forgive her with his usual equanimity, been counting on him to have read and understood her fears in the way he seemed to be able to do. But although he’d been civil and calm, there’d been none of his usual warmth – just a coldness she hadn’t experienced from him before. Even when he’d been annoyed and frustrated he’d always remained engaged.

Trying to look at things objectively, she should take his withdrawal as a good sign. He obviously just saw what they’d had as a fling. At least one of them had kept their head. This distance would make things easier between them at work until such time as he left.

So why didn’t the idea feel as good as it should?

On Tuesday, just over a week after the attack, Annabel applied a covering of make-up to the rapidly healing injuries on her face and went to the hairdresser. She arrived at work in her cast but otherwise looking like Ms Frost. Inside she felt like someone else entirely. Who, she hadn’t a clue. She pushed through the doors, her eyes already sweeping behind the bar to spot Aidan’s mop of black hair.

Instead, she saw a head of cropped brown hair. ‘Who the hell are you?’ she demanded.

From across the room Tim answered. ‘Ms Frost! This is Stu Price. Cluny’s new head barman.’

Her head spun, but she fought to keep her thoughts and her voice straight. ‘Where’s Aidan?’

Tim looked at her worriedly. ‘Uh, Aidan’s gone. Back home to Ireland. I thought you knew? Richard Landon’s been about for the past couple of days to deal with it all.’ He stepped in closer, hands rising as though to reach out and catch her. ‘Are you all right? You look a bit crook. Are you sure you should be back yet?’

‘Yes.’ Annabel pulled herself together, put on her brave face. Aidan hadn’t wasted any time in getting away from her. ‘Yes, I’m fine.’ She smiled at Tim to show him she meant it. From the way he hastily backed up a step, she knew she hadn’t managed to get the expression quite right. If it reflected anything close to what she was feeling – a crushing vice-like grip squeezing her chest – it probably looked like she was having a heart attack.

Annabel folded another of her mother’s freshly washed nightgowns ready to take along on her regular Monday afternoon visit to the hospital. For the past several weeks, Ellen had been insisting on having her own sleepwear rather than wear the unsightly surgical gowns – mostly for the sake of presenting an attractive package to the doctors and male physiotherapist. Her recovery from the emotional – if not yet the physical – trauma of her relationship with Tony Maplin had been remarkably quick, and she’d wasted no time in using her flirty tricks and playing the helpless female in the hopes of catching the attention of any man who wandered too near her bed.

The same rapid recovery certainly couldn’t be said of Annabel’s emotions where Aidan Flynn was concerned. The month and a half since he’d left had been long and bleak. With the bright lights and colourful cheer of the festive season packed away for another year, all that was left were the dark days of deep winter – the gloom of which reflected her mood perfectly. Unlike her mother, who had a seemingly limitless capacity for affairs of the heart, Annabel’s one and only foray into that world had been more than enough to last her a lifetime.

And it
had
been an affair of the heart, she’d been forced to acknowledge against all her efforts to pretend otherwise, because that was the precise location where a dull, constant ache had set up permanent residence since – an unremitting, unpleasant reminder that she’d been right all along in her decision not to let anyone get too close. Well, once was all it took to learn her lesson. She wouldn’t be making the same mistake again.

As she packed the nightgown into the holdall sitting open beside her on the dining table, the buzz of the intercom sounded, announcing the arrival of her grocery delivery. With only one good arm, the usually simple weekly routine of a trip to the supermarket had become something of an ordeal of heavy bags and unwieldy trolleys. Discovering the convenience of online shopping and home delivery had made one aspect of her life that much easier.

Now if she could only get things like her sleep sorted out, she thought, giving her tired eyes a rub as she moved into the hallway. She pressed the answer button on the intercom panel. ‘Hello?’

There was a moment’s pause. ‘Hello, Annabel.’

Her heart leapt into her mouth. Even though Aidan had never been far from her thoughts over the past weeks, his rich Irish brogue was the last thing she’d expected to hear. Ever again. Had she imagined it?

‘Can I come up?’ That unmistakable voice sounded again, filling the stunned silence and rasping over her senses like a physical touch. Not her imagination, then. Real. What was he doing here?

A tiny spark of something that felt like hope flared, escaping with worrying ease from the shadowy corner in the back of her mind into which she’d been determinedly trying to cram every feeling and memory associated with Aidan Flynn. ‘Why?’

‘We need to talk.’ His tone was enough to extinguish that futile glimmer. Although he didn’t sound as cold and remote as he had during that last, stilted conversation on the phone, his voice didn’t carry its usual warm notes either.

‘About what?’ she asked guardedly.

She heard an impatient exhalation. ‘What do you think? About the way you finished things between us.’

His accusatory tone put her straight on the defensive. ‘I already tried explaining that to you. You didn’t want to know.’

‘I told you I was busy, I had a lot of things to organise.’

‘That was six weeks ago,’ she tried to keep control of her voice but she could feel the sound level rising. ‘And you’ve only just found time to get around to it now? Sorry, but I don’t know why you’re bothering if it’s that unimportant to you.’

There was a slight pause during which she heard another exhalation. ‘Do you really want to do this over the intercom?’ he asked. ‘Or are you going to let me in? Your choice, but I’m not leaving until we’ve got this squared.’

Did she want to do ‘this’ over the intercom? No, she didn’t. Did she want to let him in and do it face to face? Hell no, she wanted that even less – seeing him would risk having a light shined in that dusty corner and exposing all the things she wanted to keep hidden from herself. Really, she didn’t want to be doing ‘this’ at all. And a few short months ago she wouldn’t have hesitated to say no, to tell him to go away and leave her alone. But since then something had changed –
she’d
changed. After the way she’d thrown his kindness and generosity back in his face, he deserved better than more of the same sort of treatment from her. He deserved another attempt at an explanation at least. She’d give him that much, if that’s what he wanted. No matter how angry he tried to make her.

Without a word she pushed the button to let him into the building, then went straight to the door and braced her good hand against it as she closed her eyes and breathed deeply to compose herself. Even though she was expecting it, the knock on the other side a minute later made her jump.

She put her eye to the spy hole and there he was – tall, dark and devastating, those pale eyes staring directly at the little bubble of glass as though they could see right through it. Could see right through her – to pierce that dull, empty ache into a pain so sharp it made her breath catch. His handsome features were set hard. He looked all business, and all of it serious.

She made herself open the door right then, before the seductive voice of cowardice could talk her out of it, noticing he was dressed in his black bike leathers before she forced herself look him in the eye.

Only, his gaze wasn’t directed at her face. Instead it was locked on the top of her head. It took her a moment to realise that he was looking at her hair. Of course he was – he hadn’t seen her since she’d given up her home dying because of her cast. For the first time in years her hair was almost back to its natural shade.

Self-consciously, she raised a hand and smoothed a bright strand behind her ear, holding her breath as she waited for him to comment. But after another moment, his gaze dropped to meet hers without a word. The rush of disappointment she felt left her to realise just how much value she’d placed on his opinion when she’d made the decision to go natural rather than pay salon prices instead.

‘I was told you’d gone back to Ireland,’ she covered the unexpected hurt with a cold, flat tone.

‘Not permanently. Not yet. I’m back and forth between here and there.’ Aidan’s voice was just as flat, and hard. As were his eyes. Used to seeing their striking beauty lit by a heated glint or gleam, she nearly flinched away from the flinty coolness with which he regarded her.

But there was no escaping now. May as well get it over with as quickly as possible. Stepping aside, she let him in, trying to ignore the way her body responded to his presence as he passed, his height and the width of his leather-encased shoulders filling her narrow hallway.

When she motioned him towards the sitting room, his attention caught on her cast. ‘How’s the arm?’ he asked with the polite indifference of a stranger as he moved ahead of her.

So, they were going to start off by observing the niceties.

‘Better.’ She followed him into the room. ‘The cast comes off this afternoon.’

She watched him cross to the table, trying not to notice how the soft leathers clung to his backside and long legs like a second skin. He placed his upturned helmet and gloves beside the open holdall and turned to face her as he unzipped his jacket. ‘And your mother?’

‘She’s all right. Coming out of traction and should hopefully be home next week.’ Annabel kept her eyes on his face rather than let them drop to admire the unveiling of what appeared to be a well-fitting cream jersey. She had no right to ogle him – she had given up any claim she may have had on that strong, lean body and every intimate pleasure it offered.

‘Would you like something to drink?’ she offered, less in accordance with the niceties and more because she could use one to moisten her suddenly dry throat.

‘No. I’m not going to stay long. The only thing I’ve come for is the truth.’ He took a couple of steps back in her direction, pinned her with those piercing eyes. ‘About what happened the day you left. I want to know why you acted the way you did. Why you ran out without a word, without a reason.’

Try as she might, she couldn’t help but take exception to his tone. She latched onto the hot spurt of indignation like it was a lifeline. Better to feel anger than hope. Or hurt.

‘As I said, I tried to. You were the one who wouldn’t give me a chance to explain.’

There was a pause before he said, ‘Like you gave me any such chance, Annabel? You made your choice that day without paying a moment’s consideration to me. And you think I owed you any more than the same in return? Your double standards astound me.’

She opened her mouth and then shut it when she realised there was nothing she could say to deny it. He was right of course, she knew he was. In her panicked state she’d jumped to conclusions and made decisions without letting him explain. By shutting her off the way he had, he’d only given her back a taste of what she’d dished out to him first.

She looked up at him, looming nearby. Although he was making a good show of outward control, the tension in his shoulders made it obvious that he was angry. And why wouldn’t he be after the appalling way she’d treated him?

All right. She could do this. Explain, apologise, file it under major life fails, move on. God, though, where to start? She swallowed and tried to get her thoughts straight. ‘Because I—’ she began only to be interrupted by the buzz of the intercom. She didn’t know if she was pleased or pissed off to find herself temporarily saved by the bell. ‘That’ll be my shopping,’ she said, turning back into the hallway to let the delivery driver in.

Rather than face Aidan again immediately, she went and opened the front door instead, using the wait to think what it was she needed to say. When the uniformed driver appeared, she directed him to place the bags in the kitchen before signing his delivery sheet and seeing him out again.

‘I’d better get the cold stuff into the fridge,’ she told Aidan, who sauntered after her and stood leaning against the kitchen doorway watching silently, expectantly.