Out of The Blue (6 page)

I waited till she had opened her front door before I prepared to leave, returning her wave before she disappeared from sight.   

Arriving on-site the following day, I was greeted with more evil glares from Lucy. She had obviously heard about my night walk with Jamie. I really couldn’t understand her problem. She had never shown any interest in me before and I certainly didn’t feel I’d encouraged her in any way. After her outburst the other day I had already decided that if it continued I’d reluctantly have to discuss it with James. I really didn’t want to as it made me feel like I couldn’t cope, but I had a feeling it was only going to get worse if it wasn’t dealt with. James would obviously be in a better position to iron out this problem, as I was the target for her anger at the moment.

Taking a seat at the table in the main tent, I planned to update our satellite maps with the data we had collected so far. My arrival made the stragglers decide it was time to be out in the field, except Lucy, who chose to tidy the makeshift kitchen that was set up on one side of the tent. I listened to her thrash about with the crockery and cutlery while I set up my computer. It felt like she was revving herself up before she could speak to me.       

“So, did you spot any
wildlife
on your night walk?” Her tone was tense and angry as she almost spat out the words in my direction. Her emphasis on ‘wildlife’ baffled me a little, unless she considered Jamie wildlife. I turned slightly to face her, deciding to keep my tone even.

“Umm, we saw a group of roe dear at the bottom of the meadow, that’s about it.”  

“I’d like to have gone with you if I’d known.”

“You could ask Mike; he knows the best places to go.”

“I would rather go with you. I’m sure you could teach me a thing or two.” Her tone was suggestive.

I turned to face her; it was time to take the bull by the horns. “Lucy, I have worked with you for some time now; I see you as a colleague and friend, but nothing more than that. I’m sorry.”        

Lucy was just about to launch into another tirade as Mike appeared around the side of the tent. 

“Hey, Robin. I …” He stopped midsentence, taking in the scene. “Is everything okay?”

“Sure.” I hoped my firm eye contact told him not to dash off. “What can I do for you?”

“Er … I just wanted to check the plant routes you’ve decided on across the site.”

Thankfully that was Lucy’s cue to split, leaving me in peace to work. I looked up from my laptop at the sound of tyres crushing over the gravel on the drive. A few minutes later, I heard movement around the side of the tent as Jamie appeared.          

“Morning.”

Is that all it was? I checked my watch for confirmation. 11.48 a.m., just. “Morning.” It felt so much later in the day considering what I had already dealt with in the last few hours.   

“So, have you recovered from the other night?”

“I think so. I took most of the day off to sleep.”

“It’s alright for some,” I replied a little jealously. I hadn’t managed to get any sleep before starting work the previous day, mainly due to the fact that I couldn’t shut down my brain long enough to drop off. My continued replaying of conversations with Jamie had prevented that. I couldn’t work out why she affected me so much. I had, of course, been attracted to women before but never to the extent that it prevented me from sleeping. I was generally in control of the situation, with the ability to keep people at arm’s length, able to walk away without looking back. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to do that if anything did develop with Jamie. Every time I shut my eyes all I could see was Jamie’s warm smile. I dreamt of touching her face, tracing the outline of her lips with my fingers. Now she was right in front of me and my mind was contemplating just how soft her lips were.         

“Anyway, I wondered if you’d like to come around for that dinner I promised, tonight if you’re free.”

“Ah, yeah, that would be lovely.”

“Great! Is there anything you can’t eat or don’t like?”

“Tripe and liver,” I replied quickly. “I’m not keen on eating someone else’s internal organs.”   

Her laughter was loud confined in the tent. “Okay, not a fan of Hannibal Lecter, good to know.”

“Did Mike ask about us being up here the other night?”

Her conspiratorial tone and brisk change of subject made me turn, giving her my full attention. “He, umm, asked me in passing yesterday afternoon when we were having lunch if we’d seen anything.”

“What did you say? We heard some funny grunting but couldn’t work out where it was coming from?”

I chuckled at her words before speaking. “I managed to refrain from saying those exact words. Instead, I decided to tell him about the roe deer eating the brambles.”

“Chicken!”

Her words ended with a wide smile. I liked the fact we had shared inside information, shared experience. It made me feel closer to her and I liked the thought of that.

“Really? And did you speak to Pete lately about our night visit out here?”

“I might have mentioned it in passing, just to see his reaction.”

“And?” I asked with a little too much glee.

“He looked a little freaked to say the least, so I left it at that.”

“So, I’m not the only chicken then.”

“I guess not.”  

“So, what time shall I come round?”

“About seven.”

“Okay, I’ll pick up some wine.”

“Great.”

“See you later.” I watched her walk off towards her car while I continued to contemplate exactly where this was going. There was definitely a mutual attraction there, but where this was heading I really couldn’t say.                  

I left the work site a little early to get scrubbed up ready for dinner, picking up bottles of red and white wine on my way back to the hotel. Standing in the shower, I considered the various scenarios for the evening ahead. There was obviously a mutual attraction between us; it felt like she was doing all the running right now and as weird as it was, I quite liked the feeling of being chased. The fact that we had to work together obviously could be an issue; I had never got involved with a work colleague before. Most of our clients, whether corporate or private, were male with more male co-workers. Unfortunately, it was still pretty rare to meet women clients or women in decision-making management roles. Most of the women I had dated so far didn’t move in those circles anyway; meat-market nightclubs and bars tended to be filled with women with slightly less business acumen.

I arrived at Jamie’s a little after 7.00 p.m., not wanting to seem too eager. The aroma that wafted over me as she opened the door was mouth-watering after a long day on-site.

“Hey, perfect timing!”

“I aim to please. I brought wine,” I said, lifting up both bottles for inspection. “I wasn’t sure which one so I bought both.”       

“Great.” Taking both bottles, she scanned the labels before continuing, “Red for tonight I think.”

I followed her down the tiled hallway towards the kitchen. She had changed into casual jeans and a long-sleeved, red t-shirt. She stopped me before I reached the kitchen, handing me back the bottle of red wine.

“Would you open this? The glasses are on the table.” She indicated to the doorway on our right with the bottle.

“Sure.”

The dining room was bright from the large window facing the garden. The walls were painted a light mocha colour and an oblong table was covered with a complementary, dark-brown tablecloth, neatly laid. Undoing the wine, I poured myself a small glass and Jamie a generous one.     

Jamie joined me a few moments later carrying two large white bowls, one brimming with lettuce the other filled with slices of crusty bread.

“I hope you’re hungry.”

“Starved. What are we having?”       

“Spaghetti bolognaise. I hope that’s okay.” She picked up her glass, taking a small drink.

Could she have made anything messier to eat? All I could think about was pasta sauce dripping off my chin. I scanned the table again. Thank God there were serviettes on hand.

“Perfect. Can I do anything to help?” I replied.

I saw a small smile appear at my words. “Nope, nothing except making yourself comfortable.”

I took a seat on the opposite side of the table away from the doorway. The dining room was in keeping with the hallway. I admired a large cast-iron fireplace on the party wall; the alcoves either side had built-in glass-fronted cupboards stripped back to their natural wood. A picture rail circled the top of the room, supporting a number of framed prints.     

She returned with a cast-iron pot of bolognaise in one hand and a bowl of spaghetti in the other, placing them both on large cork mats. She sat at the end of the table facing out into the garden.   

“Please, help yourself,” she said, indicating the food with her hands.    

I went to work, quickly covering my plate with a large pile of spaghetti. Using my fork, I made a hole in the middle for the sauce. It was good, very good. I was engrossed in the enjoyment of the food when she spoke.   

“I was thinking about that conversation we had about dead celebrities the other night.”

I wiped my mouth with the nearest serviette, which I’m sure was framed with orange sauce by now. “Yeah,” I replied, even though, as I recalled, it was a one-sided conversation she had instigated.

“It’s weird how some people have really distinctive voices; you know who they are without even seeing them. You just need to hear them speak to know who they are.”

Okay, I’ll bite. “Like who?” I asked.

“Well, the other day I was working on my laptop while watching
Seven Psychopaths
. Have you seen it?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“I was facing away from the screen, but I knew instantly when Christopher Walken started talking compared to the other actors. He’s got such a characteristic voice and the way he talks is very distinctive.”     

I smiled at her obvious love of film. “Umm, what about James Mason?” I said, trying to join in.

“Ohh!
North by Northwest
. I love Hitchcock films.” Her eyes seemed to light up at my words.

“Really? Me too.” Something else we had in common. “So how come you didn’t study film at university rather than history?”

“Umm, well I guess at the time I wasn’t as interested in film as I am now. If I were to go to uni now I might be tempted, but …”

I watched her take a drink of wine before she continued.

“I really like my job and I can’t imagine doing anything else, and this way I still get to enjoy all the films I want without having to think too much.”        

I could totally understand where she was coming from. I wondered how rare it was for two people in the same room to enjoy their jobs to the extent that we obviously both did. 

“I can’t think of any foreign actors that have distinctive voices when they talk in their own native languages,” Jamie said.

“Uh, no, me neither,” I replied, trying to sound contemplative as I concentrated on twisting the last of my pasta around my fork. Definitely one to mull over; I made a promise to myself to try and think of at least one distinctively voiced foreign actor to impress her with.    

“That was lovely. Just what the doctor ordered,” I said, as I wiped the last of the sauce from my lips. I looked up to see her wide-eyed expression and scanned her plate; it was still half full. 

“Wow! You must have been hungry.” 

“Sorry,” I said meekly at my own embarrassment once again.  

“Don’t apologise. It’s a compliment … I think.”

“I did say it was lovely,” I repeated. Hearing her giggle at my words made me suitably relieved. I plucked a piece of bread from the bowl to bide my time, ripping off pieces to wipe up the leftover sauce on my plate. “Lauren Bacall!” I said after dredging the depths of my brain for a name, confident she would know what I was talking about.

She smiled at my words. “Definitely!
The Big Sleep
.
Key Largo
,
great film noir.”   

“Film noir?” I asked. I knew roughly what it was but I wanted to hear her talk more about a subject she was obviously passionate about.

“Mostly American films of the forties and fifties. Dark, gloomy, pessimistic, hard-boiled detectives and gangsters, usually a bit bleak. It was the flipside to the big flashy musical comedies they were also making at the same time.” She took a drink from her wine after cleaning her plate. “Of course that brings up Humphrey Bogart. Bit nasally but he’ll have to go on the list.”

Her question about foreign actors had finally begun to percolate. “Do you think places like Germany or France have such characteristic regional accents like we do in the UK? I mean you can tell from the first few words if someone is from Liverpool, Cornwall or Newcastle. I’m guessing it must be like that for other countries,” I queried.     

“Good question. I know France can be quite regional, but as an outsider it’s quite hard to pick up on it.”

We continued to ponder this possibility over a slice of very tasty Mississippi Mud Pie.       

The scratch on my face had become incredibly itchy and my hand instinctively rubbed at it.  

“Leave it,” Jamie scolded. “Or you’ll make it scar.” Reaching across, she pulled my hand away.

“It’s really itchy, though.”

“That’s good. It means it’s healing up.”   

“Is that actually true or just an old wives tale?”

A smile stretched across her face. “I’m not sure. My mother always used to say it when I had scrapes on my knees.”

Her eyes locked with mine for several seconds before she turned her attention to the pudding in the middle of the table. “Would you like anymore?”

“No thanks. It was lovely, though. I’m as full as an egg,” I said as she stood, taking the dessert with her.

I picked up our empty plates, following her into the kitchen. “Well, that was one of the best meals I’ve had in ages.” 

“One of the best?”

She turned towards me, eyebrows raised almost into her hairline. Sucking the cream off her thumb from the remaining dessert she had just placed in the fridge, my eyes focused on the residue left on her top lip. Pulling the napkin from my pocket, I moved towards her.

“You have some …”

A slight look of confusion crossed her face until she saw the napkin coming towards her. Gently dabbing at the cream, I felt her eyes bore into me the whole time. My eyes moved up to meet hers and I saw the dark desire as I felt a hand move to my waist. Dropping the tissue, my thumb softly traced the shape of her lips. I lowered my head, bringing our lips together. But the brief excitement I felt at her soft lips was cut short by loud noises outside the kitchen window. “Aarr! Oohh!” followed by lots of loud kissing sounds.

“What the fu–?” I whispered as we both looked in unison out the small window to see several heads resting above the fence line as they continued to clap and whoop.

“My neighbours, the students. They’re meant to be moving out but as you can see they’re still here.”

I turned to her as she spoke. Her face was as red as mine felt.

“Well, might as well give them a show.” I pulled her towards me, quickly covering her lips with mine. Moving her back towards the work surface, I half-lifted her up. Pushing her thighs apart, our bodies melded together. 

“Is this real?” Jamie whispered in my ear.

“Very,” I whispered against her lips. Cupping the side of her face, I kissed her, running the tip of my tongue along her bottom lip, seeking entrance. She tasted of red wine and chocolate. The warmth of her touch was mind-blowing. I could feel the blood rushing from my brain in favour of other more important areas.    

Jamie pulled back briefly to whisper, “Would you like to stay over?”

Hearing those words spill from her mouth brought me back to reality. I so wanted to but the fear had set in – the ifs and buts. I knew from my short time with Jamie that I could very easily get lost in her.   

“I’d love to, but … I can’t … I need to finish off some work and email it off to James tonight. I’m sorry.”

I saw the look of hurt in her eyes. I felt awful. I’d led her on only to let her down. It wasn’t that I didn’t want her; I just needed to take a step back, think it through. She definitely didn’t seem the fling type; no one lays down this much ground work for a one-night stand. What did that mean for me, especially as we had to work together?

I stepped back, leaving her sat on the worktop. “Are you free for lunch tomorrow, say one o’clock?” I asked hopefully. I didn’t know what I wanted long-term, but I knew I didn’t want it to end like this.  

“I could be,” she finally said. She looked a little brighter at my invitation.

“I’ll pick you up,” I offered.

Stepping closer again, I noticed her hands were firmly gripping the worktop this time. I kissed her softly on the lips. “Good night and thank you for a lovely evening.”

I quietly closed the front door behind me before slipping into my car. Looking back at the neat cottage as the outside light flicked off, I hoped I’d be clearer in my intentions the next time I visited Jamie.

Arriving back at my hotel, I did a bit of surfing, looking for a good restaurant we could walk to from Jamie’s place. I figured Saturday lunchtime was going to be a pretty busy time. Luckily, I managed to call and make a reservation ready for our next meeting – or date, if that’s what it was. It felt like a date. We had never actually used that word but it was pretty clear to me what it was. And this would be our fourth meeting, if you count the burying of the hatchet, the night walk and tonight’s meal. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been on so many dates, especially with the same person. Now I just needed to figure out what I wanted from all this.