Barely Yours (10 page)

I can’t believe I’m in a
limo
. It’s black and sleek and gorgeous. I love it. Of course, I’ve been in a limo before. Everyone hired one for our high school graduation. But those were enormous tacky pink hummers with leopard print seats and disco lights. So tacky. Just a glorified bus. But this? This is how you travel in style.

And of course, I’m not on my own. Will is sitting right here next to me. Just the two of us. And we’re out, together. Without Tabby. Not as employee and employer, but as a man and a woman, on a date.

I’ve had the craziest month. It’s been so heavenly, I even got a text from Brian the other day because I’d been so incommunicado he wanted to check that I hadn’t died.

Ever since that afternoon in his study, we’ve spent every possible minute together. Sure, lots of that time has been with Tabby. The three of us, hanging out, in that precious hour snatched between him coming back from work and Tabby’s bedtime; making dinner, watching TV, just spending time, just
being together.
Normal stuff. And it’s been wonderful.

And then later, when Tabby goes to bed ...

I’ll spare you the details, but that tiny lonely attic bedroom of mine has sure seen some action over the past month. Practically every night, we sneak into each other’s rooms. Twenty-two years without a man bringing me to orgasm and now one (or more!) every night?! No wonder I’ve been too distracted even to send a simple text message to my best friend. And the whole thing’s just been so wonderful that I hadn’t even thought about even leaving the house together until he suggested it the other night.

And now here we are. In the limo. On the way to this hot new Italian restaurant that’s opened up just around the corner. And when I say ‘just around the corner’ I
mean
just around the corner. We totally could have walked. In fact, because of London traffic, it would have been quicker, too.

But never mind. I’m just glad I’m here, in the back of this limo, with this wonderful man who’s asking with real interest all about my day as we slowly make our way towards the restaurant.

I turn to him and smile.

“You know, this isn’t my first real time in a limo?”

“No?” he says, a quizzical eyebrow raised.

“Sure, in my high school prom, back in Chicago,
everybody
rolled up in limos.”

“Oh yeah?” he says, eager to learn more about my childhood.

“Oh
yeah
,” I laugh. “You should have seen it! No joke, prom was insane. People saved up for months
,
the whole
year
even,
to arrive in style. It was like the Oscars or something. So much money. All the girls in their custom made bright pink Diamante ball gowns, arriving arm in arm with their boyfriends decked out in ill-fitting tuxes. But of course, in the end, we were just seventeen year olds and all that happened was that we drank too much fruit punch, rolled our eyes at the prom queen, danced awkwardly to Usher, and then went home wondering
is that it
...”

“Okay,” Will laughs, “that doesn’t sound like much, but in all honesty, it was better than my end of year school party. I was at an all boys boarding school, you see, so there weren’t even any
girls
to talk to, let alone dance with. I think that after a speech from our headmaster, we all went to the rugby field and tried to get drunk from the few tins of beer that we’d managed to smuggle in.”

When he brings up beer, I remember all over again that he doesn’t drink.

I never thought I’d be going on a sober date with an English guy. I thought it was supposed to be the other way round – that they are all practically alcoholics and think American’s are straight-laced about booze.

Personally? A nice glass of red wine would be just the thing for tonight. But I don’t want to make him feel uncomfortable, so I make a resolution to stick to sparkling water.

§

We’re inside the restaurant. And
OMG
. The food is incredible. Even the sparkling water we’ve been served tastes
amazing
, like no water I’ve ever had before. And truth be told, I don’t even miss the wine.

“So,” I say, “boarding school, huh? You must have missed your mom and dad an awful lot.”

He looks at me with a strange expression. “I don’t want you to feel sorry for me,” he says, “but I was first sent away to school at eight years old. And when your parents send you away that young, you learn how not to miss them. Don’t get me wrong, I hated it at times, especially at first. The first year? I spent all my free time plotting my escape, working out how to run away. But I never had the guts. I suppose I was always too much of a goody-goody. Still am.”

He pauses, casting a glance around the busy restaurant with those big dark eyes of his before meeting my gaze once again.

“It’s not like I
never
saw my parents. We were together plenty on vac, sorry, on holiday. We always called it ‘vac’ – boarding school is full of these weird terms and phrases. Forgive me if I slip into the lingo.”

“I can’t understand why a parent would want to send their child way like that,” I say.

“To be honest?” he replies with a tender smile. “Neither can I. That’s why I’ve vowed never to send Tabitha away to school. I want her
here
with me. With her family, where she belongs. In fact,” he adds, and at this I swear he blushes slightly, shifting in his seat and looking uncomfortable, “I didn’t even approve of the idea of having a
nanny
until a certain someone came into my life.”

Now it’s my turn to blush. For some reason, I’ve never been good at receiving compliments, and even though he’s told me before how much Tabby liked me from the get go, I’d always just assumed that he’d hired me on a whim, out of the blue, without thinking too much about it. I never actually thought it was because I was ... special.

He can obviously sense that I’m awkward, because out of nowhere he reaches across he table and grabs my hand in both of his, looking imploringly into my eyes as he says, “I mean it, Chrissie. You’re so special to me, to both of us. As soon as Tabby first met you, I simply couldn’t deny the connection between you and her. It was just so strong. You see, she’s usually so shy, so reticent with strangers. But with you? It was like she’d known you all her life! And after she fell for you, it didn’t take long for her silly old father to follow suit.”

Now I’m
definitely
blushing.

I want to reach over and grab him. Just throw caution to the wind and jump into his lap, smothering him with kisses. But at that exact same moment, the waitress arrives with our entrees, as if to remind me that the two of us are out together in a public place – and of course we can’t just do whatever the hell we like.

Luckily, the food is delicious enough to take my mind off my frustration. Until tonight, I guess I just thought pasta was pasta. You know, spaghetti noodles with marinara sauce, but holy cow, this is something
else
. The flavors hit me all at once, dancing on my tongue. The pasta is cooked beautifully al dente and when we finish off the meal with coffee and tiramisu it’s all just perfect.

As we linger and talk happily over coffee and desert, the feeling comes back to me, sweeping over me again in a heady rush:
I just want to jump on him and rip his damn clothes off!

I guess I’m not used to being in public with him like this. When we’re out and about, our focus is always Tabitha. And when we’re together in the house at night, just the two of us, we’re usually free to explore each other as much as our hearts desire.

As I gaze at him across the table – so tall and dark and handsome – I start to feel agitated. He’s
perfect
, and what’s more, he’s sitting just inches away from me. I cross and uncross my legs, feeling that sweet ache inside me as my agitation grows physical. Damn. I’ve never felt quite like this before. It’s like my body craves him now, beyond my control.

Guys I’ve dated in the past? My high school boyfriends? Sure they were nice. And I guess the sex was kinda nice too, not that I’m super experienced in things like that. I always made sure to go out with nice, respectful guys; guys who waited until I was ready and made sure it was what I wanted. And I
did
want it, but not like this – not in the way I’m feeling right now, like I might just have to drag him into the ladies bathroom and make him take me right there and then, to satisfy this deep gnawing hunger that’s growing inside me and only getting stronger and stronger with each second.

Just then, Will leans over the table towards me, eyes flashing with glee as he whispers, “I think you might be thinking what I’m thinking. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

His words are music to my ears. I’m already half crazy with desire for him, and if it had gone on any longer, I might have caused a scene!

I nod at him eagerly and in a matter of seconds he’s signalled to the waiter, received and paid for the check, and then just like that, we’re outta there.

“That was an exquisite meal,” he says, as we step into the coolness of the sidewalk outside, “but the highlight of the evening was the view.”

“What are you talking about?” I say, fighting back a smile.

“Simply being able to sit across from you and look at you for two hours. I feel sorry for every man in the world who doesn’t have that privilege.”

I take his arm, pulling him closer to me. “You charmer,” I giggle.

“But of course,” he says, playing up the English gent role even more as he leads me towards the waiting limo at the curb, opening the door for me and helping me inside.

As soon as we’re seated in the rich leather interior, the car quickly pulls away, speeding us off into the crisp London night. We’re holding hands but I want so much more. I want to jump him, right here. And I console myself with the fact that I’ve only got a few more minutes before we’re home and in private and we can disappear into the upstairs sanctuary of my apartment and carry on exploring each other, as if we hadn’t already gotten enough of each other over the past month. But damn. I don’t feel like I’ll
ever
get quite enough of that body.

Sitting here, we’re both silent – just the purr of the limo’s engine – and I can tell we’re both only thinking of sex now, of exactly what we want to do to each other. Then, all of a sudden it dawns on me.

Wait a moment
, I think. The journey home is taking
way
longer than the journey there. Which makes absolutely no sense, because we were in traffic on the way there. I can remember how the car was crawling through the streets. But now? Now we’re really moving, speeding along, but somehow we’re still not home.
What the hell?

I break my hand away from Will’s in order to shift around and look out of the tinted window in an attempt to see where the heck we are. I gaze out and I don’t recognise anything at all. Weird. The streets are wider, and it’s much less busy. I glace back at Will, totally confused.

“Um, where are
we?” I say.

“You mean, you don’t
know
?” he says, a playful question mark on his lips.

“No, of course I don’t know!” I reply. “Where
are
we?”

He sighs as if the jig is up.

“Okay, okay,” he says, holding his hands up. “You got me. I thought you’d seen enough of the house lately. And I wanted to take you out, give you a chance to see a little scenery. You’ve worked hard, and you deserve it.”

“But what about Tabby?” I say. “We can’t leave her on her own in the house. The staff will be clocking off about now ...”

“Don’t worry,” he says in a soothing tone. “Her grandmother picked her up from the sitter just after we left. She’s probably being spoilt rotten as we speak – ice cream for dinner, staying up way past her bedtime. I think they’re probably trying to make up for everything they never gave me.”

With my worry about Tabby out of the way, I’m suddenly wracked with a whole new bunch of excited questions.