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She was standing there, awkward and uncomfortable, when the blonde with the clipboard came towards her. Her eyes were glittering with malice.
‘So who might you be?’ she asked haughtily. A feat considering she was also chewing gum.
‘Sky.’
‘Sky what?’ she asked rudely.
‘Why? Why do you need my last name?’
‘Because we need to know who the winner will be.’
‘The winner?’
‘Yeah, Queen Freak.’
The blood drained from Sky’s face.
The girl was watching her avidly. The way a snake would watch the rat it has sunk its fangs into to die of its poison. ‘You do want your escort to win, don’t you?’
Sky focused her eyes on the beautiful face in front of her. Don’t let her get the better of you, Sky. Don’t let them win. She took a deep breath and opened her mouth. ‘Johnson. My name is Sky Johnson,’ she said slowly. Her voice sounded far away or as if she was hearing it from underwater.
‘Cool. Good luck,’ the blonde said and flounced away.
Sky pushed herself away from the corner. There was a door close to her. She opened it. It gave out to a conservatory full of beautiful flowering plants. She stumbled toward the glass door at the end of it. Out in the garden she began to run with the blood pounding in her ears and the tears running down her face and falling onto her beautiful blue dress.
She ran and she ran.
~~~~~
Seven years later…
~~~~~
One
I turned away from the cashier’s counter and slammed into a hard wall—well, it felt like it, but in fact, it was a man’s solid chest. Large, powerful hands came around and gripped my upper arms to steady me.
For a second it was all right. I had the apologetic, slightly flirtatious smile and appropriate words that passed for polite regret in England ready—I’m ever so sorry. But when my eyes flew past the broad shoulders up to his face my whole world tilted crazily. I felt the blood drain away from my head. A part of my brain screamed, No. No. No. No fucking way. Not halfway across the world. Not after all this time.
I opened my mouth and… Closed it like some dumb goldfish in a bowl. Stupidly, I stared at the savagely beautiful face, the firmly etched mouth, the jet-black eyes, the straight eyebrows and the hard, hard jaw line—my God, the boy had become a man: a devastatingly sexy man.
A still functioning, rational part of my brain hissed urgently, say I’m ever so sorry, like now, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t do a fucking thing.
I was like a deer in headlights. I just stared and gaped and stared some more while his eyes remained strangely impassive. My palms pressed against his chest and encountered the stone-like slabs of the muscles of his pecs. His nearness was like some sort of drug that dazed me. I scrambled to pull myself together.
Often with time a childhood crush becomes endearing in a silly sort of way, but obviously I had never let him go. I tore my gaze away from his magnetic eyes and roved, dazed and shocked over the snowy white shirt, down the perfectly tailored charcoal suit. Expensive. Impressive. Sexy. I had never seen him in anything but a black leather jacket and jeans. Hazily, my mind made a note of his scent. Cologne probably. Sinfully dry and spicy in a way that citrus was not.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked.
God! His voice. It was far more impressive than I remembered. Then it had been full of bravado and the arrogance of youth and privilege. He had exchanged that in favor of tone and timbre and depth. It flowed with charm. Magnetic. Truly.
I nodded vigorously.
His hands were still gripping my upper arms to steady me. And to be perfectly honest I was glad, because my knees were pure jelly. My eyes darted back to his face. The rest of that outrageously handsome face remained unfathomably impassive, but the shrewd black eyes narrowed. ‘Do I know you?’
Shit.
It was now or never. I took a deep breath, and thank God, my brain kicked in. I shook my head quickly. ‘I don’t think so,’ I croaked.
Something shifted in the air between us. And it was all to do with the odd way I was behaving. His gaze bored steadily into mine. Purely on instinct I took a step back and he let go of my arms. Big mistake. My knees were still pure jelly. I was sliding downwards. He caught me, a strange expression on his face. My pulse leapt about like a frightened fish.
‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ he asked again, his eyes registering concern.
I nodded and aware that my behavior was extremely bizarre to say the least I blurted out the first explanation that came into my head for my strange behavior. ‘It’s OK. I’m just…pregnant.’
A veil came over his eyes.
I inhaled shakily, my face heating up with the lie.
Strong arms guided me over to a tall stool by the shop window. I sat down and spread my right palm on the cold glass. I bowed my head and like a fool looked at his shoes. Black leather polished to a high shine. What the hell was he doing here in my local? I lifted my head and stretched out my mouth. ‘I’m fine now. Thank you for your help.’
He frowned. ‘No, I will wait until you have recovered fully.’ This time his voice had an edge to it.
I swallowed the rock in my throat. ‘No, really. You can go. Thank you. I’m fine. Honestly.’
He hesitated. ‘Would you like me to call someone? Your…husband, perhaps?’
I shook my head so vigorously I felt a little dizzy. Saved by the bell. My mobile phone rang. I could have kissed it. I tore open my bag with shaking fingers and rooted
around desperately for it. I located it and accepted the call without looking at the screen. It was my sister calling from New York.
‘Hey you,’ she said.
‘Yeah, I’m on my way back,’ I said, and terminated the call. I looked at him with a smile. He was still frowning and looming over me like some impossibly handsome Greek thunder god. ‘It’s the office. The girls are wanting their coffee. I guess I better get going. Thanks for all your help.’
I jumped off the stool, balanced for a moment on my own two feet. Yup, all good. With a bright, false smile I waved and, skirting him, quickly walked to the end of the counter. My order was already in a cardboard holder and ready to go. I grabbed it and without turning to look at him left the coffee shop. Outside, I walked quickly and purposefully.
At the end of the block I turned into the little side street and leaned against the wall. Carefully, I put the coffees on the ground. My hands were shaking so badly I had to clasp them hard to stop them. Against the red brick side of the adjacent building there was an old sign—‘Barrick & Sons, Certified Chartered Accountants’. Black on cream with a black border: so old-fashioned, so dependable.
They say childhood memories are never fully lost. I could still remember the smell of bread baking, beeswax floor polish on the old wooden floors, drinking warm milk straight from the cow. And Miko.
I felt the tears that were longing to burst forth burning at the backs of my eyes and as I stood there watching the sign they began to well into my eyes and run down my face.
‘Fuck it,’ I cursed, and opening my purse found a Kleenex to blow my nose. Leaning my head back against the wall I closed my eyes. Emotionally, I felt totally spent.
‘What now?’
~~~~~
