Saint Kate of the Cupcake: The Dangers of Lust and Baking (2 page)

“That’s London for you!” He laughed with forced enthusiasm.

“Yup.” Usually this was the part of the conversation where he stopped talking and walked off. He wasn’t bad looking, but he didn’t have any outstanding features that caused one to immediately notice him. He was pale and blondish with glasses and was slightly shorter than me. I’m quite tall at five foot ten, so I tend to either intimidate or attract shorter men. Most women like to date taller men, but it’s not so easy and tends to restrict the dating pool somewhat when one is six foot in moderate heels.

I looked up at him because he still hadn’t left my desk. He cleared his throat a few times, and I watched, fascinated. I had never seen someone so uncomfortable. I could have been inserting wooden splinters under his fingernails, and he couldn’t have looked more tortured.

“A friend of mine is having a party this weekend. Would you like to go? If you’ve nothing on, of course.” He looked around the room, anywhere but at me. This was by far the most overt he had ever been, actually coming out and asking me somewhere directly, and the strain of it caused him to nervously clear his throat again and fidget with his tie. I had no better offers at the moment, so I decided to take a chance on him. He seemed quite nice, and sometimes it pays to give the quiet ones a go.

“Sure. That would be lovely,” I said. He looked at me, genuinely surprised and even more anxious, if possible. My estimation of the night declined slightly from its already low position. I think I just agreed to put both of us through many hours of awkwardness, though with music and alcohol, it might be easier.

“Perhaps you could write down the details for me?” I prompted, pushing a notepad and pen toward him, trying to be helpful.

“Yes. Shall I pick you up? It’s a longish drive, and we’ll stay overnight. Separate rooms, of course.”

“Where are we going?” I tried to keep the slight panic from my voice.
Oh, God!
I thought.
It’s not even in London! What if it’s really dire? There’ll be no escape
. I really should have asked for more information before saying yes.

“Pool party at a friend’s country house. If we leave Saturday morning, we should get there by lunch.”

“Lovely,” I repeated for lack of a better response and forced a smile and tried to inject some cheer into my voice. I wasn’t worried about being alone with Andrew for the weekend on a physical level. He was the harmless type and hardly likely to force himself on anyone. I wasn’t exactly sure what we’d talk about on a long drive there and back, but I should let myself be open to the experience. He seemed nice enough, and getting to know him better wouldn’t be a hardship, though I had a feeling that this “pool party” wouldn’t be exactly the same as the ones back home which were usually very casual and involved blackening meat of various types and throwing together a few salads while everyone drank a lot and tried to keep cool.

Chapter Two

H
OW
R
IGHT
I W
AS
! The “country house” was a spectacular and famous Grade 11-listed mansion in Gloucestershire and by far the largest house I had ever seen that wasn’t operated by the National Trust. It was vast, with pale creamy yellow stone and a gray roof. From this approach, I couldn’t see if it was a square or three-sided. Either way, it was something straight out of Austen.
It could have been Pemberley,
I thought, my brain slightly addled.

“My God! It’s beautiful!” I gasped, unable to contain myself.

“Yes, Clouston Hall is one of the finest examples of the period still in private hands,” said Andrew. “It’s been in the family since the seventeenth century, though this house was mostly built in the eighteenth. It’s perfectly symmetrical. There are even false windows built in to maintain the lines.” The wide stone steps leading up to the large columned pediment over the central bay added to its already impressive grandeur. If it had been a person, it would have been a supermodel. I had never seen something so glorious, and it seemed to bask in the dusty summer sunshine surrounded by its blanket of checkered green lawns.

“Wow!” I said as we drove past the front entrance. “This is your friend’s place?” I was awestruck. I couldn’t believe people actually lived in something this magnificent.

“Well, it’s his parents but will eventually be his. We were at school together, so I used to come here for holidays sometimes. Jack throws a great party when his parents go away on their annual summer holiday. I think they know about it, but everyone pretends they don’t.” That sounded slightly odd to me, but what did I know? It’s not like I hadn’t thrown the odd party at my parents’ place in Vaucluse when they went away, but they had known about it and even helped organize on occasion. Mind you, they didn’t live in a house like
this
.

We drove around to the back of the house, parking near the garages where there were already nearly forty cars abandoned in varying degrees of neatness. It would be chaos getting out again. Feeling uncommonly nervous, I smoothed the skirt of my yellow sundress and adjusted the straps on my white low-heeled sandals. It wasn’t like I was from an impoverished background, but this was another level.

“Let’s leave the bags here for the moment. We can get them later.” Andrew put a hand on my elbow, guiding me toward the house. Instead of going inside, though, we went past it, down the white stone path through the formal gardens to the pool, where festivities had clearly commenced. I could hear the babble of many people talking, the occasional louder bark of laughter, and the clink of glasses over the top. As we climbed the stone steps to the raised pool area, I could see roughly eighty people gathered around the light blue water.

A band was playing on the far side, and people were dancing with varying degrees of success. I’m not generally socially awkward, but walking into a party at a house like this, with that many people and knowing no one but my date, and him not particularly well, was incredibly nerve wracking. I had the insane notion to turn around and walk out, but not only would that have been a ridiculous thing to do, there was no way of getting back to London other than the car I came in, which wasn’t mine.
Suck it up
, I told myself sternly,
you might have fun
. Putting a smile on my face, I indicated to Andrew to lead on.

“There can’t possibly be enough rooms for everyone at the party?” I asked. The house was huge, but nearly eighty people? Andrew shook his head.

“We’re some of the lucky ones who are staying in the house. Everyone else will be camping on the lawn.” He pointed to the large lawn behind the pool, and I could see some tents already set up in the corner. I’d love to say I was a down-to-earth kind of girl who would be happy camping, but frankly, I was glad I had a room with a bathroom handy.

“Let’s go and say hello to Jack. I think he’s over by the table,” Andrew said loudly into my ear so he could be heard over the noise of the party. I looked over to the table with the drinks but could see only women standing there. Maybe I had misheard him and Jack was a Jacqueline? I couldn’t pick which person he was talking about.

As we reached the table, I was still puzzled as to the identity of our host, until Andrew excused his way past two of the women, and in the break I could see a man sitting down, his leg in plaster. Andrew reached back past the wall of women who had closed around him and guided me through. My first impression was of a foppish young man, more of a boy really. He was tall, or would have been if he was standing up, with broad shoulders but a slightness of build that indicated it would take a few more years yet for him to fill out completely. His leg was encased in a cast to the knee, which was propped awkwardly on a stool. His chestnut brown hair flopped into his eyes, and he pushed it away distractedly.

From his fresh face, I guessed his age at around twenty-one, probably two or three years younger than me. He had preppy, particularly English good looks, with rosy cheeks and soft hair. The amused expression in his eyes, though, was too old for his face and spoke of devilish deeds done in the name of “fun,” and the swarms of women around him screamed “spoiled and privileged.” It may have been wrong to take an instant dislike and assume all these things, but I did.

“Jack, this is Katherine Winters. Kate, Jack Preedy, our host.”

“Pleased to meet you,” I said politely, holding out my hand. He took it awkwardly and, instead of shaking it, planted a wet kiss on the back of my fingers. I swore I could feel a bit of tongue. I pulled away quickly, putting my hands behind my back so I could surreptitiously wipe my fingers on the back of my dress. If I hadn’t already decided within the first two seconds, this would have confirmed it. Even if someone was good-looking and had an amazing house, they could still be definitely not my type. Too young, too indulged, and with a weird hand-kissing thing. I generally liked my men a bit tougher as well as older (even Andrew was a bit of a departure for me, and he could have taken Jack with his eyes closed). I know it is a bit primitive to look for that in a man; besides, it’s not like I was living in a cave and surviving on my ability to forage either, but the body wants what it wants.

“Welcome! Please help yourself to a drink. I’d get you one myself, but I’m a bit incapacitated at the moment,” Jack said with what he probably thought was an endearingly self-deprecating grin and indicated his leg.

“Is it broken?” I asked, attempting to summon up some sympathy. Maybe he was on painkillers that were affecting his behavior and he didn’t usually lick people’s hands. I was a guest, after all, so I shouldn’t be bad mannered, no matter how tempting.

“Yes. Stupid pedestrian walked out onto the road without looking and made me crash my bicycle to avoid him. Maybe I should sue. Andrew tells me you’re a lawyer? You could take my case. It is a ridiculous place to have a crossing.” Wow, this guy just got better and better!

“I’m not that sort of lawyer,” I said, not sure what else to say. At that moment, a beautiful dark-haired waif model-type came up and threw her arms around him, giving him a big smacking kiss on the lips. I took that as a sign the conversation was over and made my escape, heading off toward the drinks table with Andrew following.

“What would you like?” he asked, catching up with me.

“Gin and tonic please.”

He ordered and collected our drinks from the bartender and introduced me to some people. The afternoon wore on, people getting more inebriated and consequently more guests ending up in the pool. Andrew kept us both well-supplied and very mellow.

“Fancy a swim?” Andrew asked.

“Sure.” I smiled, pleasantly buzzed. This party was far more fun than I had thought it would be. Despite the location, no one seemed pretentious, and all the people I spoke to were lovely.

“I’ll go get the bags and meet you in the pool house.”

I took the opportunity to use the bathroom before he returned, but the door was locked when I tried the handle. After waiting for ages, I was about to go and look for another one when the door opened and Jack hobbled out, followed by the waif, who was adjusting her clothing.
Classy
, I thought. Smiling at them both, I entered the bathroom and closed the door behind me. “With the entire house at your disposal,” I muttered, “why would you have sex in a bathroom?” I shrugged mentally.
Better than the bushes, maybe
. Bathrooms didn’t do much for me, but to each their own.

I met back up with Andrew, who was waiting outside when I came out, and we went into the change rooms provided. I wriggled into my white one-piece suit with a plunging V-neck and twisted my hair up into a knot, securing it with a bar clip. Grabbing the towel from my bag and draping it over one arm, I went to meet up with Andrew. His stunned expression at seeing me in my swimming costume was a reminder of how camouflaging work clothes can be. He clearly hadn’t expected the large breasts that were well-concealed in our ultra-conservative work environment and hadn’t been particularly obvious from the sundress I wore earlier. The swimming costume lifted and enhanced rather than hid, so they looked like something out of a men’s magazine. I’m not a hermit, though, and sometimes it’s fun to show off what you’ve got, and I hadn’t thought about it being in front of someone from work. Still, it’s not like Andrew was my boss or this was the office Christmas party. He recovered fairly quickly, though he struggled to raise his eyes from my chest as we returned to the party.
At least he’s definitely heterosexual
, I thought with a wince. (Every girl made that mistake at least once, and it was one particular university “experience” I was not planning on repeating. Unrequited love may fuel the creative process for the philosophers and poets, but it doesn’t help the law students. I nearly failed that semester.)

Andrew dove straight in and swam efficiently to the other end, showing off a good swimming style. Goose bumps raced up my leg from the first step into the water, so clearly I hadn’t had enough to drink. Everyone else was seemingly oblivious to the temperature and splashed about happily. Unwilling to seem the soft Antipodean unable to stand the cold, I forced myself to get into the water, clamping down on the high-pitched squeal wanting to escape as I went in up to my shoulders. I swam around for a while, hoping my body would adjust and it would no longer feel cold, but to no avail. After ten minutes, I was completely numb and gave up and raced for my towel, huddling gratefully in its warmth. I looked around for Andrew and saw him by the side of the pool, talking to Jack, who was sitting with his good leg dangling in the water. He looked comfortable, unlike me, and both of them held drinks in their hands, which Jack was topping up from the bottle of whisky sitting on the other side of him. Cold, I went inside for a shower to warm up and change back into my clothes.