The Patterson Girls (45 page)

He stepped inside and they kissed in the manner of lovers who hadn't seen each other all week.

‘It was a crap day at work,' he said when they finally pulled apart, ‘and I had an urge to hear you playing the violin.'

Which really meant he needed some sex therapy and she was cool with that. He enjoyed listening to her play, but she guessed he liked what it usually led to even better. Her insides were already flaring with desire at the thought. She smiled and grabbed his hand, closing the door behind him with her foot because she still had the big bowl of popcorn in her other hand.

‘I think I can manage that.' She led Nigel past her flatmates and couldn't help a smug smile as they looked him up and down, obvious surprise and appreciation in their gazes.
Eyes off girls, he's all mine. Officially.

She still had to pinch herself sometimes when she thought about it—how just when she'd almost hit rock bottom, he'd come unexpectedly into her life and taught her to embrace her passions again. If it hadn't been for him she'd likely be pouring pints in some seedy bar, but instead she was blessed to work with enthusiastic children every day.

‘So those are your roomies,' Nigel said, when they'd barricaded themselves in her bedroom.

‘Yep. Total nannas both of them. I'll probably get a lecture later about having a man in my room with the door closed.'

He chuckled, dumped his laptop bag onto the floor and then pulled her roughly towards him. She dropped the bowl of popcorn and it spilled all over the floor but neither of them cared about the mess. ‘In that case, we should really give them something to frown about.'

Their lips came together in a hungry clash and hands went everywhere as they tore at each other's clothes, making up for the time they'd lost over the last week. When they were naked, Nigel pushed her down onto the bed and licked his way up her body, starting with her toes and driving her to the brink of ecstasy as he travelled up her legs and inner thighs.

‘I. Haven't. Even. Played. One. Tune. For. You. Yet,' she panted as his mouth landed on her most intimate part.

‘Later,' he mumbled before doing something with his tongue that made her unable to think anymore.

Much later, when they'd sated each other's hunger for the time being, Abigail slipped out of bed and tiptoed across the floor to her violin case. As she removed the instrument, Nigel propped himself up in bed with the multitude of cushions she owned and linked his hands behind his head as he sat back to watch. He looked so damn sexy, sitting there like that—his impressive package hidden beneath the bed covers but his chest with its perfect smattering of blond hair visible for her to admire.

Smiling at him, Abigail took her position at the end of the bed and lifted her violin to her chin. Her breasts thrust upwards as she did so and she felt Nigel's appreciative gaze on her naked body as she began to play. If she told anyone about this thing they did, it might sound seedy but playing for him made her feel more beautiful and talented that she'd ever felt performing in one of the world's finest orchestras. She loved the way he listened intently, his head cocked to one side and an expression of awe on his face as her fingers moved across the strings.

He was the best damn audience she'd ever had and the most appreciative too. Usually she got applause, but Nigel gave her so much more. Although she'd just had one of the best orgasms of her life, having him watch her as she played always turned her on. By the time she'd finished a couple of pieces, she was hot and needy for him again. Nigel clapped and roared his praise and Abigail laughed, imagining the looks on Sam and Pamela's faces right now as she put her violin to bed and then crawled back in beside this incredible man. They made love with less urgency than they had earlier, but without sacrificing passion or pleasure.

Afterwards, feeling thoroughly sated, Abigail lay in Nigel's gorgeous arms—she'd always had a thing for nice arms and his were perfect—and they talked. The lovers she'd had in the past had never been interested in post-coital conversation, but Nigel liked talking with her every bit as much as he enjoyed sleeping with her. He stroked her hair and her fingers played idly across his chest as they caught up on what they'd both been up to the last few days.

‘Are you making progress on the campaign?' Abigail asked, rubbing her toes teasingly up and down his calf.

‘God, I hope so,' he said. ‘I'm not sure I can take another week of this. I don't think we've had a client as difficult as this one in years. Just when we think we're close to what they're after, they change their
vision
.'

Abigail smiled at the way he said vision. If his arms weren't full of her, he'd likely have made inverted commas in the air with his fingers.

‘I'd love to help but I wouldn't know where to start. I'm not good at anything apart from music.'

‘I wouldn't say that,' he said, sliding his hand cheekily down her body.

She laughed and caught his hand with hers, bringing his fingers up to her lips and kissing his knuckles.

‘What about you?' he asked. ‘Any updates on your crazy family?'

‘Hey, they're no crazier than yours,' she said, feigning annoyance. His big clan were far more interesting than hers as far as Abigail was concerned, but he loved hearing about her family and her Aussie life as much as she enjoyed hearing about his. They both adored London but were happy to have found each other because it meant they could talk about things like Vegemite, the Adelaide Crows and backyard barbies without people looking at them weirdly.

‘True,' he said, ‘but I hope your dad doesn't sell the motel before I get the chance to see it. It sounds like such a fun place to grow up.'

‘I don't know how you got that idea.' Inwardly Abigail glowed at the thought of Nigel wanting to meet her family and see the place she used to call home. Her sisters would all fall in love with him and he liked AFL so her dad would approve.

‘How's Lucinda doing?' he asked.

Abigail sighed. ‘Not sure.' Her heart ached at the thought of Joe and Lucinda not being together. Lucinda herself hadn't said much apart from a quick email announcing that she'd moved home to help Dad and Charlie for a bit, but Charlie had sent a couple of updates. ‘Charlie says she's driving everyone wild with cleaning regimes and reorganisation of everything from Dad's filing cabinet to the linen cupboard, which is Mrs Sampson's domain.'

‘Mrs Sampson's the hotel housekeeper, right?'

‘Right.' Abigail nodded. ‘Although Charlie reckons she might be a little more than that to Dad.'

‘So you're not the only one in the family getting up to no good?' Nigel said, once again sneaking his talented fingers down her body, this time lingering on one breast.

‘Don't,' she squealed. Not because she didn't like his touch but because she was still getting used to the idea of Dad finding love again after Mum and she certainly wasn't ready to think about him and Mrs Sampson doing the horizontal mambo.

Nigel laughed and Abigail made a move to climb out of bed. ‘Bathroom calls, back in a second.'

She grabbed her dressing gown from the edge of her bed and slipped it on before opening the door and hurrying down the hall to the bathroom. The television in the living room was on louder than usual and Abigail grinned at the thought that Sam and Pamela had turned it up to cover the sounds of her and Nigel making love.

Jealous prudes
, she thought as she slipped into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. She did her business, freshened up a little and then checked her reflection in the mirror before heading back to Nigel.

‘Are you hungry?' she asked as she re-entered the bedroom all of three, maybe four, minutes later.

He met her question with a glare and she froze as the door banged shut behind her. Her stomach clenched as her eyes zoned in on her open bedside drawer. The ovulation prediction kit she'd bought months ago lay on the bed in front of Nigel.

‘What the hell is this?' he asked, gesturing to the box as if it were a rotting rodent.

She swallowed, her heart pounding so hard she swore he'd be able to hear it. ‘What were you doing going through my drawers?'

Nigel sighed. ‘Thinking about your dad and his new love gave me this great idea for a campaign for this client we're pitching to and I needed a pen and paper to write it down.'

She raised one eyebrow. ‘And you couldn't use your phone?' Lord knows he used it for everything else.

‘I always scrawl down my ideas on paper first, they just …' He halted mid-sentence and shook his head. ‘I don't think it's me that needs to be explaining myself right now. What have you got this for? Is it yours? You told me you were on the pill.'

She opened her mouth to tell him no, it was a friend's, but she found she couldn't look into the eyes of the man she loved and blatantly lie. And what kind of friend would leave that in her bedside drawer? Abigail didn't want to start their relationship with such deception, but what exactly should she tell him? That she was on destitution's doorstep when they met and having a baby seemed a good way to go home without having to tell her family about being sacked from the orchestra? Or that she and her sisters had uncovered a family curse and somewhere in the back of her mind, trying to get pregnant and prove it wrong had seemed like a good idea? Whichever way she tried to explain it, he wouldn't care. And could she blame him?

There was no excuse for what she'd attempted to do.

‘I'm sorry, Nigel,' she pleaded. ‘When we met I was messed up and I thought having a baby might give me a renewed purpose in life. I didn't know what to do or how to
be
without the orchestra and I couldn't bring myself to tell my family the truth. I decided if I got pregnant, I'd go home and use that as an excuse for why I'd left.'

‘And what? I was just some pawn in this sick plan?' He was already out of bed, yanking on his jeans.

‘Yes. I mean, no!' She shook her head, tears prickling as she desperately searched for a way to make this right.

‘I take it you didn't succeed,' he spat.

‘No. I'm not pregnant.' She'd just finished her period, and after two months of hoping it wouldn't arrive, she'd never been so pleased to see it.

‘Thank fuck.' Yet despite his words, Nigel kept dressing. He was doing up his shirt now and she knew she didn't have long to beg his forgiveness.

‘Please don't leave. You need to understand, I gave up this idea a month ago. I think subconsciously it gave me a reason to keep on seeing you without admitting to myself it was love. The day after the hotel I went and got the morning after pill and I've been taking contraception pills ever since.'

‘How am I supposed to believe you?'

‘Because—' she swallowed, the words tripping on her tongue as tears threatened to barrel down her cheeks ‘—I love you. I may have been a mess when we met but I'm sure I'd never have done what we did in the plane if I hadn't felt an instant connection. I was fooling myself that it was just sex but all along it was more, you know it was.'

She reached out to grab his hand but he shook her off violently.

‘I don't know anything,' he said, looking at her in a way that made her feel like the smallest thing in the world. ‘My judgement is obviously totally skewed because as well as being the prettiest woman I'd ever laid eyes on, I also thought you were a good sort. But I can't love anyone who would go to such lengths to deceive someone. Did you ever think about the poor baby that might have been born from your irresponsibility?'

She opened her mouth to reply but he shouted over the top of her. ‘No! You only thought of yourself. You didn't think about how it might affect a child or me? When I have a baby, I want it to be conceived in love with someone who is ready and willing to give that baby the best family life possible. And I want to be part of the decision.'

Picking up his laptop bag and shoes as if he couldn't be bothered with the time it would take to sit down and put them on, he gave her one last scathing look. ‘Move aside, Abigail.'

In shock, she did so without thinking. He wrenched the door open but as he stormed down the hallway something snapped inside of her.

‘You might think yourself all high and mighty, Nigel,' she shouted, ‘but next time you fuck a stranger on an aeroplane, maybe think with your brain rather than your dick and bring condoms yourself!'

In reply, the front door of the house slammed shut. Abigail noticed that the sound on the television had been muted. No doubt her hideous flatmates found the dramas coming out of her bedroom far more exciting. She wanted to scream something at them too, but she started to shake instead as the realisation of what had just happened washed over her.

Stumbling backwards, she somehow found the strength to slam her bedroom door before she sank onto the floor and sobbed.

Why-oh-why hadn't she thrown away that kit? Truth was, since the desperation to get pregnant had gone, she'd not given one more thought to it languishing in her bedside drawer. Her heart burned as if it had been torched as she thought of the scathing way Nigel had looked at her while spitting his accusatory words.

How could she face even leaving her bedroom after Sam and Pamela had witnessed all that? She wasn't a bad person but he was right, she'd done a very bad thing. Shame washed away her anger at the things Nigel had said, leaving nothing but sadness and aching inside her.

‘I want my mum,' she whispered into the silent room as she curled up in the foetal position and cried. She felt so alone and her mind drifted to her sisters—to Charlie in particular, who wouldn't judge her stupidity but would find something to say to make her feel a little better. But it was early morning in Meadow Brook and if Charlie were awake, she'd be in the middle of the breakfast service.