A Life Less Lonely (13 page)

“Let’s be very decadent and eat dessert,” said Keir. “You’re right. We should enjoy our last evening in Montreal without feelings of guilt.”

This time she met his gaze. She moved her hands so they were clasped loosely in front of her on the table and not too many inches from his. She waited for him to look away. It wasn’t going to happen.

“We’ll take a few minutes, Nicholas,” said Keir, still holding her gaze.

As the waiter moved away she felt
Keir close one of his hands over hers. His thumb stroked her fingers and moved to her palm, before lightly pressing its centre. Longing blazed inside her. How could she sit there like that, allowing her carefully constructed defences to disintegrate? How could she sit there, enjoying his touch and wanting it to continue?

Gently she withdrew her hands and picked up her menu. “We should choose our very decadent desserts,” she said, not allowing herself to meet his gaze.

He broke the silence but not until he’d taken a few moments. “Andrea?”

“You first,” she said.

“OK. I’m going for the miniature crêpe with ice cream and raspberry coulis and a rain check on the guilt.”

She chuckled. “For me, it has to be pear and ginger ice cream.
Chocolate sauce, please, and no self-reproach on the side.”

Their drinks arrived and
Keir ordered the puddings, requesting Nicholas to give them a fifteen-minute respite between courses. Andrea picked up her fresh glass and sipped the cool, fragrant liquid. Why shouldn’t she stay relaxed after such a tough workout? She was enjoying herself and maybe she’d read too much into Keir’s body language. He’d been under more pressure than she had, as the consultant fronting the UK trial.

“Andrea, do you recall our bumping into one another that day when I was coming to see Richard. Remember? We met at the lift though neither of us has mentioned it.”

Immediately she pictured the scene. “It didn’t seem important,” she said. Except for being the most significant wake-up call to the love-starved woman hiding away inside she’d ever experienced.

“I disagree,” he said. “Your face, your whole demeanour attracted me right from that unimportant moment, as you call it. I didn’t notice your wedding and engagement rings at that point. Shall we say that when you turned up in my office and I recognised you and later noticed the rings, it was a defining
moment. I had to tell myself to back off.”

“You’d no way of knowing your assumption wasn’t correct.” Andrea’s fingers pleated her starched pink linen napkin.

“Yes, thanks to your very poignant explanation on the flight over.” His hand moved towards hers, slowing their movements, calming her, beguiling her with his touch. This time she didn’t pull back.

“You were very frank with me on the flight over,” he continued. “I didn’t think it was the right time to explain my own situation. It would have seemed too corny.”

“Keir, before you say another word, I don’t know where this going, but I want you to know you don’t have to tell me anything that might prove painful. We haven’t known each other very long. I decided to tell you about my immediate past because I thought it needed saying.”

“Was this down to me drawing the wrong conclusion about your friendship with Richard?”

“Partly,” she said, her gaze focused on the hand still covering hers.

“I can’t apologise enough for that. It was entirely stupid and thoughtless. I admit to having had feelings of, well, unease, for all sorts of reasons. And of course, you’d arrived at the wrong conclusion about me,” he said softly. “I know that because Pierre has told me you were convinced I was married.”

“You’ve been discussing me with your friends?” She pulled both hands back sharply.

“Of course not,” said
Keir, shaking his head. “It’s only that Pierre gave me a ticking off before he left the hotel - accused me of being a buttoned-up Englishman among other things. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about my divorce. Most people around me know. It just didn’t occur to me to say anything.” He sat back again. “But now we both know we’re two single people.”

Wistfulness tinged her smile. “Single maybe, but still attached.”

“We all have baggage, Andrea.”

“How I feel is probably too complicated to explain.”

“I didn’t mean to sound insensitive. Please don’t think I don’t respect your feelings. It’s just -”

Nicholas arrived with their desserts. The scrumptious puddings weren’t intended to induce serious conversation and
Keir and Andrea ate in silence.

“Good?”

“Much more than good, thank you.” She picked up her glass. “We probably need to get back.”

“No coffee?”

She hesitated. “Are you having coffee?’

“I could be persuaded if it means more time alone with you.”

She managed to keep the conversation in still waters, questioning him about Pierre and Lisa and how long he’d known them, wanting to hear about his first trip to Canada. They fell silent when the cups stood empty. Keir called for the bill.

They walked into the cool Canadian evening.

“Aren’t you cold?” He glanced at her flimsy dress.

“I’m fine,” she said, wondering how she’d been so stupid as to forget a wrap.

He took off his suit jacket and draped it around her shoulders. She felt the warmth of his body transfer to hers and caught a whiff of his aftershave as he leaned in. Her longing to be kissed transcended her resolve. The quiet street, in which they stood, remained free of passers-by.

“You know how much I’m attracted to you, don’t you?” He watched her face.

“I …”

“That first day when we barged into each other at the elevator, I couldn’t get you out of my mind afterwards, couldn’t stop wondering what caused that hurt, frightened expression in your eyes. I wanted to scoop you up and take you somewhere calm and safe. Do I have to spell it out to you, Andrea? That feeling hasn’t gone away. I tried to fight it because I thought you were married.” He took her in his arms. “I love you. You don’t have to say a word. Just let me hold you, please.” The last word was a whisper.

He wrapped his arms around her body, beneath his sober grey jacket. She closed her eyes and tilted her face towards his. At that moment she forgot everything else in the world – where they were, who she was, their professional status – nothing could stop that moment of joy.

This kiss didn’t
flare as their first had. It began cautiously, gently, tentatively. Andrea gave a little moan of pleasure, involuntary, the sort of purr a woman makes when she sinks into a warm, scented tub or snuggles between freshly laundered sheets. Keir pulled her even more tightly to him, binding them together as if he couldn’t get close enough. His lips were more insistent now, demanding a response, which she gave readily.

At last they released their hold on one another. “Let’s go back,” he said, gently pushing her arms inside sleeves that dangled, concealing her fingertips. He took her hand. “Don’t think too hard, darling. Please don’t worry about a thing.”

She walked beside him, temporarily inhabiting the masculine guise of crisply tailored pinstripe suit jacket. They walked purposefully but he didn’t try to hurry her along. It was as if each accepted their destination and trusted the other to remain focused.

Inside the hotel foyer,
Keir still held on to her hand. They headed towards the lifts and he pressed the call button. She watched the floor numbers flash in descending order – five, four, three, two, ground and lower ground where they waited. The car stopped and two people stepped out. Keir placed his hand lightly on her back and they entered. He pressed the button for the sixth floor.

The gates slid across and she felt him kiss the top of her head, a butterfly touch before he squeezed her hand.

She nestled against him, trusting, anticipating. It was as if she’d shrugged on a fluffy cloud of longing the moment he draped his sensible jacket over her shoulders. When the lift eased to a halt at their floor, they got out and she removed her hand from his to find her key card in her handbag. Still he said nothing.

They walked down the carpeted corridor to Number 622. His room was located on the same floor but a few doors further along. Andrea hesitated then operated the card key system. She stared as the green light shone. How symbolic was that? He pushed open the door for her and waited for her to enter. She didn’t hesitate to step inside before holding out her hand to him.

Chapter Eight

Lizzie Dean awoke to an unusual alarm call, a tuneful vocal of a number she recognised as a Perry Como hit, probably from the fifties and definitely a tad too enthusiastic for the time of day. She squinted at her clock and uttered a good-humoured Okay as she realised it was six a.m.

“Rosemary,” she called on her way down the hallway. “What are you doing up so early?”

“I’m making Andrea’s lunch. She’s going on a school trip today.”

When Lizzie reached the kitchen she realised the reason for the activity. Last night there’d been a documentary about academic excursions on television. Afterwards, Lizzie had reminisced about her first time away from home and also her first attempt at skiing. She’d enjoyed Austria but not by her own clumsy attempts on the snowy slopes. Rosemary had listened and laughed without once mentioning her daughter.

Rosemary proudly held out the sandwiches she’d made. “Look,” she said. “I wonder if that’ll be enough.”

“I think that’ll do fine, Rosemary. Why don’t you sit down now while I make some tea?”

“Lovely. It’s so kind of you to spend time with me. Can you stay for a while?’

“Yes, my dear. I can stay all day if you like. I don’t have to go to work today. It’s Sunday.”

Rosemary sank down on one of the kitchen chairs. “We could have our lunch outside.” Her face radiated happiness.

Lizzie patted the elderly woman’s shoulder. “Whatever you wish, my dear. I could drive you to the garden centre after breakfast if you like. You were after a few more bedding plants, weren’t you?”

Rosemary nodded at her carer and started humming Magic Moments again, her fragile body swaying in time to the tune.

While she waited for the tea to brew, Lizzie picked up the unbuttered slices of bread and placed them beside the toaster. She wondered where exactly Rosemary thought her daughter was at this moment. Did she imagine her to be still in bed, just down the corridor? Doubtless Andrea would be safely tucked up in her Montreal hotel room. Lizzie calculated it must be a quarter past one over there and Andrea’s flight back to Heathrow left at 10.00 a.m. local time. She’d need every single moment of her beauty sleep.

***

Keir
woke to feel the unfamiliar warmth of another body next to his. He opened his eyes, careful not to move for fear of disturbing his companion. Andrea slept peacefully, hair darkly contrasting with the whiteness of the pillow, one slender arm flung across his bare chest. She looked heartbreakingly young and untroubled. She looked beautiful. And he wanted to protect her. Already he felt aroused again but closed his eyes, telling himself not to break the spell. Neither of them had mentioned the word ‘tomorrow’ when they made love the night before. After Andrea invited him into her room, they’d kissed again and again until he whispered urgently to her. “I want to make love to you.”

Their clothing was probably scattered all over the place, abandoned in a mutual urgency that he found both unexpected and thrilling. He’d been frightened of going too fast, terrified of treading on her expectations.

“It’s all right,” she’d murmured as he stroked the delicate skin over her collarbone. “I don’t want you to hold back. I want us to make love properly.”

She’d kissed him passionately. He responded by kissing her breasts, lingering whenever she made a soft, purring sound revealing the pleasure created by his touch. There’d been the almost awkward moment when he paused to prepare himself but she was ready for him. Opened her arms to him, whispering little love words as he entered her body. Their lovemaking had been all he’d longed for it to be and more. No way was this the stuff of one-night-stands. After they’d pushed one another to unimagined heights, they lay quietly, Andrea cradled in his arms. She’d whispered “goodnight
Keir,” only to fall, he suspected, almost immediately asleep. Much later, he eased his position to retrieve his arm, yet wanting the night to go on forever. The morning might bring recriminations.

He realised she was awake.

“It’s still early,” he said, propping himself on one elbow. “I’ll get dressed in the bathroom if that’s OK. Why don’t you snuggle down a little longer?”

He planted a swift kiss on her forehead and got out of bed. She didn’t say a word. He began collecting socks, boxers, trousers - until he had an armful of clothes. She sat back against the pillows.

“I can sleep on the plane,” she said.

He looked at his watch. “We’ll need to have breakfast in just over two hours’ time.”

“So why don’t you snuggle down a little longer?” She drew back the covers.

Unwound with desire, he couldn’t think of anything else but loving her again. This time their sense of urgency was reflected in the way they reciprocated one another’s need. This
time she cried out as she soared with him. But when he dressed and slipped from the room, he was devastated to see the glow of not yet shed tears in her eyes. Her sadness tinged Keir’s joy as he recognised his unsaid goodbye.

*
**

Andrea looked out at the ground rushing past the aircraft. She felt the smack in her back as the powerful engines thrust them from the runway, the big bird reaching for the clouds, lifting them up and away from Canadian soil. The rush of emotion she felt startled her. How silly was that? Images of indigenous wild life, quirky frog memorabilia in the gift shops and flirtatious French-speaking waiters drifted in her mind’s eye. She pictured the conference audience clapping as one after she thanked them for listening, her eyes widening in disbelief at the warmth of their response.

She had an open invitation to go back one day and stay with Keir’s friends. Josh would adore such an adventure and she’d no doubt whatsoever that Pierre and Lisa would be perfect hosts and ensure they enjoyed their holiday.

She smiled, picturing her little boy’s face. Andrea longed to see him again, and her mother, of course. It would be interesting to learn how Rosemary had fared in her absence. Had her mother even noticed her daughter wasn’t around? Knowing Lizzie, there’d have been plenty to occupy Rosemary’s gently wandering mind. The woman was an absolute jewel and Andrea knew Mrs Dean was far more skilled at caring for her mother than she herself was. She wondered how her mum’s hospital appointments had gone.

And then there was Keir, sitting in silence beside her. When the next trial session took place on Tuesday, she and he would both be there. Back where they belonged. Already the last few days were taking on a dreamlike quality. It had been an amazing experience, every bit of which she’d enjoyed. Was she kidding? Her cheeks grew hot at the thought of the passion the two of them had shared but she reminded herself it belonged to the past now. Like the sightseeing together and the scrumptious meal eaten in those last precious leisure hours. Real life beckoned.

Beside her,
Keir rustled the pages of the Montreal Gazette as he focused on the newsprint. Maybe he too had filed their night of passion away under ‘Completed Business.’ Maybe she wouldn’t need to worry about excuses and explanations. He probably took his pleasure whenever the opportunity arose, whereas she had ached to be held in his arms, longing for a few hours of oblivion, responding to the needs of her body without neighbours tweaking curtains or colleagues looking the other way as she approached.

But was she being one hundred per cent truthful? She recognised herself as a woman who didn’t give herself lightly.
Keir had murmured words of love but didn’t men do that in order to get what they wanted? In her case that short, significant phrase had trembled on her lips, daring her to utter it. She hadn’t found the courage to do such a momentous thing. In the end, guilt inhibited her thinking, even though her body had throbbed like a tightly strung musical instrument under Keir’s dextrous fingers. There was something about this man that spoke to her in a way that transcended physical passion. A kind of empathy – yet discovered at a time when she still remained vulnerable. Once again, wearing her cloak of rationality, she knew it was too soon for another love affair - far too soon after a marriage that, sadly, proved to have been a synopsis, not a saga.

“Coffee, Dr Palmer?” The smiling cabin attendant broke Andrea’s reverie.

Keir glanced up too. “And for me, please,” he said.

The stewardess filled two cups. “Enjoy,” she said as she moved away. “I’ll be back to take your luncheon orders. You can ring if you need anything before that.”

Was it Andrea’s imagination or had the woman’s glance lingered a little too long upon Keir. She watched the svelte figure move down the cabin. Hair seal-sleek, her bottom pert in a just tight enough skirt, her legs lightly tanned. Was she or wasn’t she wearing tights? The flight attendant made Andrea feel like a pile of crumpled laundry, and after only twenty minutes in the air.

“So,” said
Keir. “Is it OK for me to have my turn now?”

“Your turn?”
Andrea nervously turned to face him. “Have I missed something?”

His lips twitched. “I’m offering to do what men hate doing, Andrea. Unburdening my soul is a very rare occurrence. But I’m not like other men, I suppose. And you’re not like other women.”

Oh, no. This shouldn’t be happening. Their return flight was something entirely different from the outward-bound Montreal trip. A few days ago, they’d been colleagues fast becoming friends. Telling Keir about Greg had seemed the natural thing to do. Having stepped over the boundary and become lovers so quickly, she feared learning too much about him. Surely he knew how the script went? What was going on here? Her mouth dried and still he looked expectantly at her.

It was easier to say nothing.
Easier to give a swift nod.

“If I still look married, I can’t think why that should be,” he said. “And I want you to know my failed marriage was mainly down to my own stupidity. Connie and I met through friends. We were each invited to their wedding and weirdly, were seated next to one another at the
lunch, wedding breakfast or whatever these things are called.” He hesitated. “There was an instant attraction. We established neither of us was really attached to our respective plus ones. My then girlfriend and I were fast realising we were going nowhere. Connie’s escort was a cousin of hers dragged along when her boyfriend decided he didn’t do weddings. Even as a guest.”

“Somehow I’d assumed you met your former wife at work.”

“No, and with hindsight, it was my work that drove us apart.” He folded his arms. “That sounds like a convenient excuse but at the time, it seemed like the right thing to do. Work hard, work harder, and turn round and do it all again next day, I mean.” He grunted. “She got pregnant very quickly. I still don’t know how that happened!”

“You don’t? Did you miss the lecture on reproduction while you were at med school?”

“Sounds unbelievable, doesn’t it? Seriously - I’d thought we would wait a few years before starting a family. My daughter’s arrival somehow made me even more determined to climb the ladder. Eventually we moved to a house with personality but I didn’t want to take the kind of holidays Connie coveted. It was all part of a package, in her book. Bigger and better.” He sighed. “I don’t think she was ever unfaithful to me. I just think when she and Naomi went on holiday and I stayed at home, it rang alarm bells. Made her receptive to another man’s advances.”

He had a daughter and he didn’t live with her. Andrea turned to face him. “You didn’t sit down together and try and work out a compromise?”

He shook his head. “It sounds pathetic but no, we didn’t. Fate had arranged for a single father to be on holiday with his two sons and staying at the same hotel. Connie returned and told me she’d decided to move away.” His flippant tone didn’t match his grim expression. “How about that for speed?”

“I’m sorry,” said Andrea. “I can only imagine how you must have felt. I don’t honestly know what to say.”

“There’s nothing to say, Andrea. I’m not looking for sympathy. I obviously wasn’t husband material. Now I regret not being around to see my daughter grow up but I’ve no one to blame but myself.”

“It’s usually six of one and half a dozen of the other, surely?” said Andrea softly. “When a marriage falls apart, I mean.”

“I don’t think it was ever really a marriage.” He sounded wistful. “There was a huge physical attraction in the early days. Not a lot more than that, except for our daughter of course. I’m sure I don’t need to spell it out.”

No, he didn’t. Andrea realised with a pang dismaying in its intensity, he was spelling out his intention never to make another mistake like that one. But what was she thinking about? That meant good news for her, didn’t it? They could each draw a line under the conference and everything that went with it. Of course
Keir Harrison was every hostess’ dream – unattached eye candy. It was the stuff of Jane Austen. It was manna for a society where people changed partners and where, even with so many women competing in the workplace and achieving success in their own right, that magical state of coupledom still beckoned like a traditional end of the rainbow image. Everyone wanted to believe in the happy ever after even if they knew it didn’t always happen.

She realised
Keir was watching her, his expression tender, loving, even. Her longing to be touched by him, kissed by him, held by him, was overwhelming to her, disturbing her beyond belief. This just had to be a rebound thing – after Greg’s death she’d been hit by shock. Anger followed numbness and grief - anger at the sheer waste of a life she’d built. While realising the futility of doing so, she’d fretted and fumed over her widowed state and about Josh’s loss. She kept the tears mainly to herself, grinding her way through the days and weeks and months until, now having a break from domestic responsibilities, she’d behaved like someone let loose from a nunnery. Love should not and could not be brought into the equation.