Buying Thyme (13 page)

I wait for
almost three hours in the hope that Tom might still come down, but there’s still no sight of him amongst the various fit bodies arriving and leaving the outdoor gym. Luckily, basking in the glory of the morning sun has meant my morning at the beach has not been a complete waste of time. The music now playing again in my headphones has been nothing but some background noise. White noise against the rolling waves stroking the shoreline. I contemplate getting up to leave then
that
song starts. The unmistakable guitar riff at the start of Maroon 5’s
She Will Be Loved
starts up. I’m instantly propelled back to dancing poolside with Tench after our moonlight skinny dip. I close my eyes and listen to the words again, reminding myself that Tench told me he thinks of me whenever he hears it…
‘She always belongs to someone else… I’ve had you so many times but somehow I want more.’
 Is this what Tench meant? I had practically convinced myself that Tench no longer wanted to see me, until my necklace brought things into perspective. The ridiculously expensive necklace that I am
still
tormented with! And he has been calling the Agency after me? Could I give myself to someone like Tench? I remind myself of how much fun I had in his company. There’s still a difficulty in completely exposing myself to Tench that I can’t quite put my finger on. He has changed so much though. I find myself missing his company again now as I relish in the memories of our surreal weekend together. I pick myself up and meander back towards my route home. With pleasant memories of Tench drifting around my head, I no longer feel poignant in the absence of seeing Tom.

After a long
hot shower back at home, I once again recognise the usual satisfaction of being alone. I find comfort back in my own skin once again. I’m grateful for my morning’s physical activity. Knowing the cooler months are now upon Sydney, I am not deceived by the clear skies or sunshine outside, so I throw on some jeans and a white long sleeve top. I pull my hair back in a full flowing ponytail again and head back out to get some much-needed groceries. I make my way up to The Five Ways. I can’t help but notice the beautiful hues of yellow and red in the leaves on all the deciduous trees lining the surrounding streets. The air smells clean and fresh, and brings a welcome start to the new months and changing seasons. Sydney’s splendid weather patterns are like a much needed cleansing to the mind, body and soul. I inhale the crisp autumn air and close my eyes as my thoughts are finally at peace for the day and my troubles feel like they are all but a distant memory. This is exactly why I needed the time off. I reach The Five Ways and pick up a basket as I enter Thomas Dux, a gourmet grocer store and much loved favourite of the area. I wander around and take in the sumptuous colours of the fresh produce stacked around and enjoy the smells of the deli section as I decide on what to get for my dinner this eve.  I lose myself amongst the beautifully presented packages of Corn-fed Spatchcocks and perfectly marbled scotch fillets flooding my vision, I
salivate as I peruse over the meats section. Then I hear a voice nearby that makes my knees buckle and I prickle all over. I briskly escape the meat section and find safety in the condiment isle back behind me, to get a look and see if it is
him
. I peer between the tin cans and jars in front of me.
How does he do this to me?
I can see the perfect vision of Tom Smythe standing at the deli counter, asking as politely as only he can, for some Italian sausages.
The giddy young female attendant behind the glass is grinning wildly as he smiles his incredible smile at the end of his request and then thanks her.
Oh my god.
He’s here!
He turns to make his way towards the front of the store and I suddenly feel lost. I have no idea what I should do next. Here I was this morning, finding myself desperate in anticipation to see him again and now I’m at a loss as to what to do.
This is too close to home.
This is my neighbourhood.
My heart is now a lump in my throat, so big that I can’t swallow. I quickly grab some random items on the shelf in front of me and spontaneously throw them into my basket. I do my best attempt to casually stroll back over to the meats section, and into the oncoming path of Tom.

“Miranda.” My working name utters from his lips like the crisp air outside.
 

His jaw-dropping smile carries me away and I can hear my pulse drumming in my ears. Words always seem to evade me in his presence. I search the basket in his hands, frantically hoping to come up with some form of dialect, now that I have him… here… in front of me… at my local grocer.

“I’m beginning to think you’re stalking me Tom.” I bomb in my attempt at humour. 

Damn you stupid wit… work with me now!
Tom puts my feelings of stupidity to rest and genuinely laughs at my comment.

“I could say the same about you!” He looks down at my basket and I can tell he’s assessing my random selection of condiments within it, “Tinned Pinapple, Strawberry Sauce and pickles?”
I purse my lips and ignore the pounding in my ears.

“Ah… secret ingredients for something amazing for myself tonight!” Begging desperately inside that he has been fooled by my terrible justification, I smile and wink to add an air of cheekiness to my statement.
 

That’s it girl…
I can do this
… I
can
be this girl! “What’s on the menu for you tonight Mr Smythe? I didn’t picture you to be the home cook?” I start to actually wonder why someone like him even shops for his own groceries. Not when he can just get someone to buy anything he wants with his seemingly endless bank account.

“Ah, I don’t have a cook at The Bondi, so this is quite new and foreign for me. I’ve made attempts to cook something for myself, but unfortunately my culinary skills have a lot to be desired. I do make a mean peanut butter sandwich though.” He rubs his hands through his fine hair, hiding behind his admittance. I can’t help but be enchanted by his vulnerability.

“Maybe you need to just hire a chef to come and run you through a few of the basics?” I tease. 

His steely blue eyes are glued on mine as he pauses in thoughts that are all too hidden. We both break into a laugh at the same time, breaking the awkward silence between us. Tom steps towards the fresh fruit and pulls a small plastic bag from the roll, directly behind me. I try my best to pay little attention to his hand briefly brushing past me, but my sudden spike in temperature is quite on the contrary.

“So did you run or exercise this morning?” I try and keep the conversation flowing.

I’m hoping the question will also alleviate my curious mind.

“Yes I did. Did you?” He answers as he grabs the pink lady apples one at a time and places them in the bag. 

So he did exercise? I must have missed him. I avoid asking further questions in case I’m forced to confess my attempts to see him this morning.

“Yes I ran this morning.” But I purposely leave where I ran, out of the reply.

“We will have to meet up one morning and go for a run together? Maybe do the Bondi to Bronte path?” As wrong as it is right now… this is music to my ears.

“Yeah why not?” I smile back. 

It’s
just
running! Nothing remotely sexual! This is acceptable surley? 

“Well I had better keep rolling with my supplies for myself.” I try to end our conversation but really I don’t want this moment to end, “It was really great to see you
again
Tom.”

“And it’s always a pleasure seeing you Miranda. Will you be at the gym equipment on the beach front again tomorrow?” He asks, and suddenly I feel like my secret obsession this morning has been exposed.

“Yeah. Sure. Why not.” I give my best performance of nonchalance in my reply. 

Tom remains standing in front of me, so I side step around him and walk towards the refrigerated meat section to grab a packet of the butterflied Corn-fed Spatchcock from the cooled shelving and make a beeline for the cash register.

“Do you have a member rewards card miss?” The female cashier asks.

“Yes… here somewhere.” I reply as I fish around in my purse for my black Thomas Dux rewards card. I glance back at Tom who is still wandering around the fresh fruit. I smile awkwardly when I realise he is staring back at me. The pretty young cashier smiles her friendly smile as she hands my card back to me. I pay for my items and wave goodbye to Tom as casually as I can conjure up. Throwing my change in my bag, I exit the store as quickly as I can. I’m still not really sure what I have actually purchased from the store.

I gleefully dance
around my kitchen in my singlet and underwear to The Black Keys
Lonely Boy
, singing along as I prepare a delicious dinner of roasted Spatchcock for myself. Flossy is sitting on her usual stool by the door of my black and white kitchen. Charlie helped me lovingly renovate it a few years ago with a modern/vintage twist. Flossy’s usual stare of contempt makes me feel all the more routine as my feet spin and swirl around on the black and white checked tiles, glass of Pinot Gris in hand. I thoroughly enjoy the feeling of delightful satisfaction, knowing that I’ll see Tom at the gym equipment tomorrow morning. The smells and sounds that sweep around me make being at home right now, nothing but pure bliss. A knock at my front door interrupts the best rendition of flashdance that I’m currently doing in the kitchen. I laugh to myself as I head towards the door to see who it is. Guessing already that it is most probably Mrs Mapleson from upstairs. No doubt with some of my mail. I peak through the peephole. Suddenly the oxygen is viciously punched out of me. My knees almost give out from underneath me when I see that it’s Tom Smythe standing on the other side of
my
door.
Shit! What? How?
What do I do? I’m in my underwear! I realise I can’t pretend I’m not at home with the music loudly playing throughout my apartment.

“Just a minute.” I call out as I struggle to retain any rational thoughts.

CHAPTER
11

I peel myself
from the back of the door to peek
back through the peephole again, double-checking that it is Tom. The fish-eyed figure that’s curved in front of the door is definitely cutting the fine sight that is Tom Smythe. How on earth does he know where I live? I feel both electrified and unnerved that he’s here right now. Racing back to my bedroom, I quickly grab some denim shorts from the pile of folded clothes on my bed. A throbbing current of electricity is pulsating throughout me as I approach the front door again. Drawing a deep breath, I open the door. The instant flash of Tom Smythe’s breathtaking blue eyes meet mine. His head slowly raises and tilts to the side and he smirks a cheeky, yet nervous smile. With his left hand the front pocket of his well-cut jeans and right hand clasping a bottle of red wine, he shuffles slightly on his feet, shifting his weight to his left as he holds out the bottle of wine.

“I really am a terrible cook.” He unashamedly admits, still holding the bottle out in a gesture for me to accept it.

“And what makes you think I’m any better?” I say without reservation.

“A gamble I’m willing to take.
” His smirk returns, as do the sexy dimples lining either side of his smile.

His answer defeats my quick response and I’m unable to maintain my cool for another second as a wide smile finally reaches my face. I look down and take the bottle of wine from his extended arm.

“Well I had better get some more potatoes on then…     and this wine was a wasted effort. I’m having spatchcock tonight. Red wine would just taste like crap with that.” I feel very impressed with my effort at convincing him that I’m not in a complete state of shock.

I lead Tom to the kitchen where I place the bottle of wine on the bench, and pour him a glass of my Pinot Gris. I turn to hand Tom the glass and notice that his eyes are bouncing about the room before they rest back onto me. I take my glass back off the bench and hold it out to him. He clinks his glass into mine before we both take a full mouthful of its contents. My eyes are unable to leave his face as I gulp down half of the wine inside the glass. I take a few moments to swallow the wine and contemplate what question I should ask him first. Floods of them currently swirl around inside my head.

“How… why… how do you know where I live?”
Damn it. I sound like a fool.

Tom raises his eyebrows and smiles that cheeky smirk at me again.

“Well… you see… it’s amazing what young female cashiers are willing to do with the prospect of a dinner for two.”

My mind races back to the pretty young cashier at the Thomas Dux cash register earlier. I frown in annoyance at my own female kind for being so ridiculously fickle, and useless in the presence of a good-looking man.

“My Thomas Dux rewards membership…” I shake my head, “My address is on the system I’m guessing… but why would she give you
my
address when you’d be taking
her
out on a date?” I still hold onto hope that she wasn’t that naïve, surely. Tom nods as I work it all out aloud.

“I told her you were a friend’s sister and you were just diagnosed with cancer, so I wanted to send you some flowers.” He shrugs.

I’m bewildered by what I’m hearing… very well played Tom.

“Tom Smythe! That’s terrible and downright deceitful! I never picked you for the type… not the type to… to… lie about…”

“Cancer? It was the best I could come up with at the time… What? Don’t judge! Trust me, I know what the mention of cancer does to people. I saw the look you gave me too… it was that same old look in your eyes too you know. No one is immune to the sympathy I get when I tell people that my wife died of cancer. Anyway, I’m here. I wanted to see you, and it worked like I knew it would. End. Of. Discussion.” Tom takes another sip of his wine and the attempt to justify his actions ceases.

But why? Why does he want to see me so badly?
I can’t bring myself to ask him why. I don’t even want to know the reason why? If he’s feeling the same as I regrettably do for him, then it’s only going to make my own feelings stronger. For the moment I’m just pleased he’s here, despite the fact that in a way, he used his wife’s death to see me. That bit feels weird.

“Dinner was amazing
Miranda. Your cooking skills are as suspected.” Tom wipes the corner of his mouth with my bright pink napkin and leans back in his chair as he compliments my cooking.

“The potatoes were a little over done, and there really was too much mint in the peas… far too overpowering for my liking. And well… let’s not even mention the fact that one little spatchcock
is never enough for two people.” I am pretty annoyed that I didn’t nail my first dinner for Tom Smythe. I wanted it to be so much better then it was… Not that I ever imagined cooking for him in the first place really. I have hardly cooked for myself lately, let alone another man… a man that is Tom Smythe… breathtakingly handsome billionaire and recent widower… who’s also a client of mine… and now sits with me… in my house… Tom Smythe.

“It’s almost cool enough to put the fire on isn’t it?” I ask as the cool autumn air outside reaches the interior of my apartment. The cold breeze is a reminder that winter is officially just weeks away. We’re both seated at the trestle table that lines the far wall of my eat-in kitchen. None of my antique dining chairs match each other, but I like that about them. They all have their own personality that way.

“Well we could open that bottle of grange hermitage that I brought with me and we could retire to your lounge room. I can’t cook, but fires I
can
do.” 

Tom finishes the last of his glass of wine, the fourth for the evening. He wants more wine? And he wants to stay longer with me? What about our run together tomorrow? Should I ask him to stay over? Maybe then he can have his way with me? No! Against the Agency rules! I’ve got to stop thinking like that! It’s bad enough that he’s even here with me now. But what can I do? I don’t want him to leave and I didn’t even instigate him coming here in the first place. So what transpires from here on in is not my fault right? God just drink your bloody drink girl… you’re over analysing again!

“I’ll pack these dishes in the dishwasher then shall I? Take the bottle with you if you like.” 

I stand and start to collect our empty plates and the cutlery from the table. I can’t believe I didn’t notice that the wine was a grange hermitage! And there I was acting all nonchalant about it. I can’t decide right now whether that is going to work in my favour or not with Tom Smythe? Tom also gets up from his chair. He walks towards the glass-front cupboard, and reaches up to get two clean wine glasses. Grabbing the bottle of wine from the bench, he walks out towards the lounge room. Not even a glance back at me. There’s a very comfortable and familiar manner about him tonight.

When I enter
the lounge area, I notice that Tom has set up some wood for the fire and has pulled my coffee table over in front of the open fireplace. He’s also laid out my fluffy rug and some cushions from the couch across the floor in front of the fire. It all looks very romantic. Where is this night going? I start to wonder whether this may be the night that Tom finally gives in to me? It’s taken him all of two nights after all.
Shit!
What undies am I wearing?
Bonds!
Plain cotton briefs… far from sexy in any way. Should I get changed into something a little sexier maybe? Tom looks up at me as I stand in the doorway of the lounge room. Grabbing the bottle of red wine, he holds the top of the bottle out towards me.

“Might need a bottle opener for this one.” He says.

“Oh… sure thing.” I exit back through to the kitchen. 

This is my chance to sex myself up a bit
.
I quickly dash into my bedroom on the way, and rush to my lingerie draw. Wildly pulling the draw open, I rifle through the various pairs of tiny knickers to find the perfect pair for the moment. On top of the dresser sits the box containing the diamond necklace from Tench. A brief shot of electricity shoots up my spine as the vivid images of Tench above me, around me, inside me, reignite the forgotten feelings for him once again. I pause for a moment while I catch my increasingly rapid breath. Closing my eyes, I try and imagine the image to be Tom Smythe instead, wondering what our first moment together is actually going to be like.
Please don’t let this be an anti climax. Please let Tom Smythe be as amazing as I imagine him to be.
When I finally open my eyes again, I notice that Tom is standing in the doorway to the right of me with a wicked smirk.

“Strange place to keep your bottle opener Miranda.”

“Ah… I just needed to…”
Shit!
My bottom lip hides its self under my top teeth as I try my best to come up with why I am here right now.

“Miranda. You seem nervous all of a sudden.” Tom steps closer and reaches out to touch the side of my right cheek, ever so gently.
 

My body struggles to maintain a moderate temperature. “Please. Understand. Once again… I don’t want anything from you. I need to take this slow. I enjoy you. More than I should admit right now… but I do. So let’s just enjoy some wine and each others company for the rest of the night hey?” Tom’s voice is like velvet and tugs at my lower region.
 

‘
This
’ slow! What is ‘
this
’? He likes me more than he should? What the fuck does that mean? The
rest
of the night? Is he going to stay I wonder? Okay… okay… enough with the inner commentary
again
. My eyes shut under his touch and I exhale loudly and smile at the embarrassment of my obvious intentions, which all seem to be a misunderstanding again. Tom reaches down and holds onto my hand and leads me back into the lounge room. When we’re at the little setting in front of the fire, Tom pulls me downwards to sit on the rug.

“Where is your bottle opener kept Miranda?” He asks very calmly.

“In the second draw. The one under the cutlery draw.” 

I feel my earlobes throb under their exploding heat. The blush spreads to my cheeks as I realise how desperate I must look right now.

The minutes tick
by like hours as I watch Tom light the fire and tend to the empty glass of wine in front of me. I seem to be completely useless in the presence of a man at my own house. A scene that I have played out in my mind so often, but now in reality, it feels so very foreign. Not what I imagined at all. I hear that Flossy has decided to make an appearance after her escape through the kitchen window earlier. Now scratching at the front door, I get up to let my little furry friend back in.

“I hope you like cats Tom Smythe, because this
thing
…” and I really emphasise the word
thing
to him because I don’t really know what
thing
meant when he said it to me earlier, “Will be well and truly over before it even begins!” With that, I leave the room briefly to the welcoming meow of my faithful little feline at the front door.

“Tell me more
about where you lived in
London.” I ask almost into the wine glass as I bring it up to my mouth for another sip. 

My eyelids are starting to feel heavier as the night draws on. I lean back down onto the cushions behind me and prepare for Tom to take the lead with the conversation. I feel myself slip away into a dark calmness and float towards an unwelcomed unconsciousness. Why now? Stay awake girly! I drift into a sleep as I sink into the rug below me. Tom’s voice ensures that I remain in a state of bliss and I can no longer fight the urge to sleep.

My body feels
weightless as I’m lifted off of the
ground.
Unable to establish whether it’s a dream or not, I decide to just sink into the warmth that is currently wrapped around my body.