The Patterson Girls (38 page)

‘What do you do for a living, then?' asked the blonde.

Liane answered for her. ‘She's a music teacher. A brilliant one.'

‘Really,' said another woman. ‘What instrument do you teach?'

‘The violin, although I could do piano as well,' Abigail replied, imagining what everyone was thinking. That old saying ‘Those who can, do, and those who can't, teach,' popped into her head. But the women surprised her. Instead of looking at her with pity or distaste, they rushed to express their interest. In less than half an hour, she'd lined up five potential new students.

‘And do you enjoy teaching?' they wanted to know.

Abigail found she didn't need to think about the answer. ‘Yes. I love it.'

The realisation made her giddy. She thought back over the last couple of months. Besides the stress of wondering how she'd pay the next bill, her life was less pressured than ever before. She'd always gotten a buzz from striving to achieve, but she was learning that taking each day slower, appreciating the little moments rather than rush, rush, rushing to get stuff done, also had a special kind of appeal. Then there were the kids. They were much more fun than her stuffy old colleagues in the orchestra had been. They reminded her that music was supposed to be enjoyable. They reminded her why she'd wanted to play in the first place.

‘How you going?' Nigel whispered, squeezing the hand he'd been holding since they sat. Although he'd been talking shop with his colleagues, she'd felt his glance on her every few seconds.

‘Great.' She leaned over and kissed his cheek, inhaling the subtle but intoxicating scent of his cologne. It smelt a little like the herbal teas Charlie always drank. ‘This is fun.'

‘I thought that night would never end,' Nigel said as he slipped the room card into the slot and pushed open their door.

‘I thought you were—' She'd been going to say ‘enjoying yourself' but the words died on her tongue as she clocked eyes on the massive bed. She could tell how soft the sheets were without even touching them and in all the corners of the room vintage-looking lamps added a sensual glow. ‘Wow,' she breathed.

‘I know.' Nigel kicked the door shut behind them, tore her evening bag from her clutches and dumped it on an old-fashioned writing bureau. He put his hands on her waist and then spun her round. She gasped with glee as he all but ripped the zipper down the back of her dress and slipped his hands under the shoulder straps so the garment slithered to the floor. The gown hadn't warranted a bra and she closed her eyes, moaning in ecstasy as Nigel reached up and cupped her breasts. As his fingers toyed with her already hard nipples, his lips landed on the side of her neck and the burning desire she'd fought in the limo returned with a vengeance.

She spun around, yanked off his jacket and then started on his shirt. He kicked off his shoes as she worked the buckle of his belt. She couldn't get his trousers off quickly enough. Foreplay was overrated—simply sitting next to him all night had been enough. And to think she'd once thought playing the violin was better than sex; she hadn't known how good sex could be.

‘You've turned me into a hussy,' she hissed as he lifted her up, her butt resting on the writing thingy. He rolled her knickers down her legs, but left her Manolo Blahnik heels on.

He thrust into her. ‘And that's a problem how?'

‘Christ!' she yelped as her body accommodated him. She bit down on his shoulder to stop from making more noise. They were in a posh hotel but who knew how thin the walls were.

‘You know, we really should use condoms,' Nigel panted as he took them both closer and closer to release.

Abigail heart's slammed into her chest and she raised her eyebrow.
Really?
He wanted to talk about that now? In the middle of, ahem … things? ‘Do you like using condoms? Do they give you a better experience?'

‘Hell, no,' he scoffed, gripping her buttocks as he drove harder and further.

‘Well, then,' she shrugged as she looked into his eyes. They were such a beautiful piercing blue tonight, and she could easily get lost in them. She was already halfway to losing her heart. ‘Don't you think it's a little late to be sensible?'

Chuckling, Nigel thrust again, dipping his head and kissing her deliciously on the lips.

Abigail couldn't think about condoms or anything serious as they came together in a hot, messy, breath-stealing climax, but afterwards while they were relaxing in the giant claw-footed bathtub and later, when they took things slower—but equally as pleasurably—in bed, she started to worry. Why had he raised the issue of contraception now? They'd been sleeping together for a few months. Did it mean she wasn't his only fuck buddy? Her stomach lurched at the thought. All of a sudden she didn't find the term as amusing as she did when he'd first propositioned her.

‘Are you all right?' he asked, once again brushing away errant hair that had fallen across her eyes.

‘More than.' She hoped she sounded believable, as she didn't want to ruin this magical night with her silly insecurities.

Nigel lifted himself up onto his elbow and gazed down at her. ‘I'm just going to come right out and say this, and before you ask, no, it's not the alcohol speaking. I was too busy talking and networking to drink much anyway.'

She frowned. Was this his way of telling her he'd had enough? Thanks for a fun few months but I think it's time we ended this?

Her insides twisted—she'd thought things were great between them; they'd rarely spent a night apart lately and she loved the times they simply hung together chatting or watching TV. But maybe Nigel was bored with that.

‘You're scaring me,' she said, immediately wishing she could take it back. Maybe she was overacting. He wouldn't like it if she suddenly became all needy.

‘That is not my intention.' She watched his Adam's apple slowly move up and down before he finally spoke again. ‘When we met I told you I wasn't looking for a relationship …'

Oh God!

How awkward. How horrible. How heartbreaking. She couldn't bear to cry in front of him. ‘It's okay, Nigel.' She sat up straight, pulling the sheets up to cover herself. ‘You don't have to—'

He cut her off. ‘Yes, Abigail. I
do
. I know I said I didn't want commitment, but—' he blinked and took her hand ‘—that was before I found you. And now … Now everything has changed.'

A sound a little like a cat's mewling slipped from her lips. Her heart grew three sizes. ‘Oh?' she asked, not daring to say anything more.

But he nodded, his expression more serious than she'd ever seen it before. ‘I think I'm falling in love with you. In fact, I'm terrified I already have.'

‘Terrified?' Uncontrollable happiness bubbled within her.

‘Yes. Terrified that my admission will make you flee from the bed, snatch up your sexy stilettos, run from this room and never contact me again.'

She laughed, then grabbed his ears and pulled him towards her, kissing him in a way that hopefully indicated exactly how she felt. But just in case, when they came up for air, she added, ‘I'm not just a pretty face you know. I know a good thing when I'm shagging it and I've fallen in love with you as well.'

‘Praise the Lord!' Nigel drew her into his arms and she snuggled against him, resting her head on his chest. Beneath her ear, his heart beat, and it was the most beautiful sound in the world. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she realised then that she hadn't done any naked violin playing for him yet, but she set the thought aside. They'd have all the time in the world for stuff like that now.

Wearing a grin so big it almost hurt her face, she drifted towards sleep with the sound of Nigel breathing deeply beside her. She was almost there when suddenly she jolted awake.

What if I'm pregnant?

Tonight had been prime timing for conception. She tried to swallow the lump that had appeared from nowhere and threatened to hinder her breathing. Nigel thought she was on the pill, so how would she explain that one? She couldn't bear the thought of what he'd do if he found out what she'd been planning.

What the hell was I thinking?

The crazy curse, the lack of an income and her utter disappointment in herself had skewed her brain, but now that things were almost back on track, her get-out-of-London pregnancy plan seemed more than stupid. It had been irrational and immoral. She only hoped Nigel would never find out. First thing tomorrow, she'd head back to that doctor and request the morning after pill.

Chapter Thirty-one

At the sound of each car approaching, Charlie looked up from where she was yanking weeds in the front garden to check for Dad and Mrs Sampson. They'd gone to Port Augusta that morning for Dad's medical check-up and she'd expected them back by now.

‘You missed one.'

She jumped, her heart slamming into her chest cavity at the sound of Mitch coming up behind her. ‘Where did you come from?'

‘
Well
, Charles, when a man and a woman love each other—or at least lust strongly after each other …'

Pushing off her knees and into a stand, she shook her head at him. ‘Can you ever be serious?'

He pretended to think a moment, then shook his head. ‘Nope. That would be boring.'

She rolled her eyes, dusted the dirt from her hands and glanced at the motel car park. ‘Where's your ute?'

He frowned. ‘Didn't your dad tell you? He borrowed it for his trip to Port Augusta today. Said he had something to pick up.'

‘No. He didn't.' She racked her brain for what it could possibly be and came up blank.

‘Maybe it's a—' But before he could speculate, they turned at the unmistakable sound of his ute coming up the road.

Charlie's mouth fell open and her eyes widened at the sight of a caravan being towed along behind it.

‘I was going to say “boat” but I think we have our answer,' Mitch finished.

Charlie was speechless. She knew Dad wanted to get a caravan eventually, but she'd thought he'd wait until he had the money from the motel. It wasn't like he could trek off on his big trip before then. Unless …

What if he decided he could? What if he leaves me in charge?

Her heart rate accelerated at the thought. Granted, things were going well here, and she was enjoying her work and the challenge each day brought, but she couldn't do it on her own.

‘Relax.' Mitch put his hand on her arm as Dad turned the ute and caravan into the car park. ‘Caravans don't bite.'

‘I just …'

Reading her mind, Mitch said, ‘This doesn't mean Brian's running away. It's just a step towards achieving a future dream. I think it's a great sign. It shows he wants to get on with life—find a new way of living.'

Charlie nodded. Silently telling herself to get a grip, she tried to smile as she went to greet them. ‘I thought you were going to the doctor's.' She raised her eyebrows at Dad as he climbed out of the ute.

He exchanged a sheepish look with Mrs Sampson as she emerged from the passenger side. ‘I did,' he said. ‘And good news is, I've been given a clean bill of health. My blood pressure is down and my cholesterol too. All those ghastly vegetable juices you've been making me for breakfast have obviously done me good.'

‘That's fabulous, Dad.' And it was, but right now Charlie was more interested in the caravan. Close up, it looked like he may have gotten it for a bargain. At least, she hoped so because there were a few dents in the side and it needed a new lick of paint. ‘Looks like you also went shopping.'

‘Oh. This?' Dad looked to the caravan as if he'd only just noticed it. Beside him Mrs Sampson laughed.

‘Can we have a squiz inside?' Mitch asked, his tone amused. ‘I've always loved the way these vans look so small yet fit so much.'

‘Sure. Come on in.' Mrs Sampson dug a key out of her pocket and started towards the door.

Mitch and Dad followed and climbed up into the caravan after her, but Charlie had questions.

‘Whose caravan is this exactly?' she asked, battling a queer feeling in her stomach as she hurried after them.

Mitch feigned interest in the fridge and the cupboards above the tiny kitchen, opening all the doors and closing them again as Dad and Mrs Sampson gave him the tour. Finally they met her gaze.

Dad spoke first. ‘When I told Mrs Sampson my dream of owning a caravan and travelling around Australia, she said she had the same dream, so we decided to pool our savings and buy one together.'

‘I see.' Did this mean they were
together
-together or were they going into this venture purely as friends? Charlie couldn't quite bring herself to ask, but was comforted by the fact that the van had two single beds instead of one double. Not that she didn't want Dad and Mrs Sampson to be an item—she'd all but given Mrs Sampson her blessing—but she wasn't quite ready to think about what that might actually entail.

‘But we have some work to do before we can hit the road.' Mrs Sampson beamed and gestured around the confined space.

‘And we wouldn't do that before the motel is sold,' Dad added.

‘No, of course not.' Mrs Sampson shook her head. ‘We'd never ask you to look after everything all on your own, but—'

‘The things you've been doing here inspired us,' Dad explained. They were already finishing each other's sentences. ‘Neither of us could justify spending so much money on our own, but then Sal found this old girl in
Caravans and Motorhomes
. We thought if you could orchestrate the redecoration of the whole motel, together we might be able to manage one measly caravan.'

‘This fold-out table is a little loose.' Mitch had moved on from the cupboards. ‘I'd be happy to fix it for you.'

‘Thanks, Mitch. That would be great,' Mrs Sampson said and then looked back to Charlie. ‘What colour scheme do you think we should go for in here?'