“Wonder how much I’d get for it
on eBay,” he mused.
Erika laughed at the thought of
some buyer getting the worst bargain of the century. “Joking aside,
my returning to England will have major consequences for you and
Richard,” she said, serious again for a moment. “Would you like me
to stay a while longer?”
Ben kissed the top of her head.
“Get outta here! I’m relieved you’ve finally come to your senses.
You can’t let a hot man like that go completely off the boil.”
“So what will you do?”
Reassuringly, Ben had a ready
answer. “Richard and I have more than enough to retire on,” he
confided. “So I’ll finish filming, spend six months walking around
looking broken hearted, drown my sorrows in a couple of sexy
actresses and, before you know it, my present movie will be edited,
released and dropping lots of lovely dollars into my bank
account.”
“How will you handle your
relationship with Richard?” she asked, unable to bear the thought
of Ben being ostracised by an industry and a public who’d
previously idolised him.
“People can work it out for
themselves.” Ben had obviously put a great deal of thought into his
future. “A major TV network’s planning a series featuring a tough,
gay cop but they haven’t found anyone willing to play the lead.
Most Hollywood big hitters are scared it’ll ruin their reputations
but my agent put me forward and they’re seriously interested. We
could be looking at another NCIS or The Wire.” He gave a
self-satisfied smile. “A year from now, I’ll be the gay icon, not
you.”
Erika snuggled back into Ben.
“We should release a press statement. If I simply walk out the
paparazzi will be camped outside again.”
“Good idea. We’ll say you’re
homesick and want to be more hands on in the music schools you’re
setting up in the UK.” Ben figured it was the truth, if not all of
it. “And you miss the rain,” he added with a grin
“It’s not the rain I miss.”
Ben slapped her leg in mock
annoyance. “I know. But it won’t do my image much good to tell the
world you’re running away to someone else’s bed.”
Ben was right – Erika was
homesick, but she’d been missing England for so long she’d become
inured to the feeling.
She hadn’t realised how
ingrained the sensation had become until her plane touched down at
Heathrow and the unacknowledged tension left her body. Rather than
submit to the publicity fanfare Marty had always insisted upon –
scheduled flights, limousines, tipping off the press and prestige
hotels – Erika chose to slip back into London quietly through the
Windsor Suite again and took a cab to a discreet, boutique hotel in
Mayfair.
The temptation to pick up the
phone and call Aiden the moment she landed was strong but Erika
resisted, even though she couldn’t get him out of her head for more
than a few minutes at a time.
Instead, she took a week to
acclimatise herself; getting used to being back on home soil and
learning how to pass unnoticed around London again. Her lawyer had
recommended a cosy, furnished flat in Clerkenwell belonging to a
colleague; far enough away from the high profile locations in
London where the paparazzi might look for her and yet close to the
City where her advisors were based.
As Aiden had once told her, fans
expected to see her on a red carpet wearing a designer gown, not
window shopping in Seven Dials or sipping coffee in the park, so
she was able to walk to meetings largely unrecognised. Over the
next few days she covered dozens of miles on foot, learning the
streets and alleyways around her new home and getting to know the
local landmarks.
On her way to meet Catherine
Walker one day she made an unconscious detour to the other side of
the business district and found herself outside Thirstan Holdings’
head office. Terrified she might bump into Aiden, she hung back in
an alleyway on the opposite side of the road and stared up at the
building he’d designed himself; a spectacular steel and glass
structure that seemed too fragile to support its own weight.
“Amazingly beautiful but with
incredible inner strength,” Aiden had once said when he’d once
shown her a photograph of it. “The way I think of you.”
She wondered how much he’d
revised that opinion over the last year.
A thousand windows looked down
upon her, making her feel conspicuous. Aiden could be watching from
behind any one of them and the thought of being so close to him
made her want to act on impulse. It would be so easy to cross the
street, walk into reception and ask to see him. But she could never
catch him that unprepared – particularly when she wasn’t exactly
ready herself.
But then, when would she ever
be?
Erika pondered the point further
over lunch with Catherine and took the bold step of confiding in
her. “Aiden and I were involved a long time ago,” she explained,
“but it ended before I got mixed up with Marty.”
“Did you keep in touch?”
“No.” This one word managed to
convey how painful a break up it had been. “When Aiden found me in
Yorkshire I hadn’t seen him for five years. But it didn’t take
either of us very long to work out there was still something
between us.”
“I guessed he was more than an
old family friend.” The lawyer smiled to herself. “Although you
were engaged to Ben by that time.”
“Yes. And no matter what I felt
for Aiden, I couldn’t walk out on Ben.” Some secrets were just too
big to share, even under cover of lawyer/client privilege and Erika
trotted out the agreed response. “But we’ve now decided to split.
All very amicable. Ben and I are two people clinging together in
Hollywood’s shark tank. We love each other, but it’s a relationship
born out of necessity, not…”
She scrambled to finish the
sentence but it was impossible to find one word that described
everything she felt for Aiden, and she gave up.
“So Aiden’s your real reason for
coming back?” Catherine guessed, topping up their wine glasses but
watching Erika out of the corner of her eye.
Erika could have lied about
missing England too much, or talked about her newly-founded music
schools in deprived areas, but she felt it was time she started
owning the truth.
“I want to know if he’ll have me
back. Trouble is, I can’t quite pluck up the courage to go and ask
him.”
“Well don’t leave it too long,”
Catherine advised. “He flies to Zurich after the weekend to
finalise some huge project he’s starting over there. He’ll be gone
around two months.”
“Two months!” Erika repeated,
horrified that she’d come so far only to have Aiden swept away from
her. “Is he seeing anyone?”
Catherine shook her head.
“Haven’t a clue. But there’s one sure way to find out.”
With Aiden scheduled to leave in
only three days time, Erika realised she couldn’t afford to delay a
moment longer. As soon as Catherine mentioned Zurich, Erika was
ready to leap up from the table and go straight to Aiden’s offices
but the lawyer told her not to bother.
“He’s taking a few days off at
his house in the country.”
“Where’s that?” Erika frowned.
She had his London address but not this one.
“Not sure. We didn’t act when he
bought it but I’ve a feeling it’s in Sussex somewhere.”
Erika remembered the photographs
of the derelict mill Aiden had shown her that day beside the pool
in Yorkshire and the way he’d talked her through his vision for
every room.
“Is it an old watermill?” she
asked, taking a stab in the dark. “I once saw pictures of a
dilapidated place he was converting.”
“Rings a bell. He certainly
mentioned having finished renovation works quite recently.”
Although Erika couldn’t remember
the name of the village where the mill stood, she recalled enough
details about the location to narrow it down to within a few square
miles and drove to Sussex later that evening. She booked herself
into a pub and was up early the next morning to begin her search
but unexpectedly hit lucky in the second village she visited. The
shopkeeper could not only direct her to the mill but also confirmed
she’d seen Aiden the day before.
Erika’s first instinct was to
return to the pub to do her hair and change into smarter clothes
but she realised it would only give her space to worry. Ben had
warned her not to over-think her return to England, and to allow
her heart to rule her head for once.
“This is make or break,” he’d
said. “You’re putting your love on the line for this guy. Think
about it too much and you’ll only lose your nerve.”
Not giving herself time to
reflect therefore, she followed directions away from the village
and down a lane shaded by high hedges and overhanging trees. She
bypassed the locked iron gates to the mill, not wanting to announce
her arrival over the entry-phone, and carried on until she came to
a bridge across the mill stream, where she left her car.
The shopkeeper had told her
about a fisherman’s path and then a shortcut across the field that
would take her to the edge of Aiden’s garden, and she followed it,
her heart hammering louder in her chest with every step.
A break in the trees gave Erika
her first glimpse of Aiden’s home and she caught her breath at its
beauty, stopping for a moment to absorb a timeless view that could
have been painted by Constable. No photograph could ever capture
the harmonious blend of building and landscape; the mill seeming to
have grown organically out of its surroundings instead of being
placed there by man, and she understood instantly why Aiden had
been so drawn to it.
It was one of those late spring
days that believed it was already high summer and the sun scorched
Erika’s shoulders from a bright blue sky. She took off her
cardigan, glad now that she’d kept her sundress on, although
sandals are not the most practical footwear for crossing fields,
she thought ruefully. The swish of her bare legs through the long
grass, the hum of insects and the distant trickle of the stream
were the only sounds to break a silence that wrapped itself around
her like a comfort blanket.
Despite her anxiety about seeing
Aiden again, and the reaction she might face, the tension drained
from her and her limbs felt weightless as she approached the
house.
A locked gate separated the
garden from the field and she climbed over it, considering rather
belatedly that Aiden might have bought himself a couple of large
guard dogs to keep him company so far away from London. By the time
she reached the gravel driveway there was still no sign of them
however and she relaxed, doubly relieved to see Aiden’s car parked
beside the garages.
She used its mirror to check her
appearance, ignoring how flushed and anxious she looked, and
reasoning that, if Aiden truly wanted her back, he wouldn’t really
care about her rosy cheeks, or that wisps of hair had escaped from
her ponytail. Then, remembering Aiden’s fascination with her long
hair she pulled off the band and shook it loose around her
shoulders.
Satisfied, she smoothed down her
dress, took a deep breath and forced herself forward toward the
dark, forbidding front door. If buildings could be said to have
body language, this mill had folded its arms, braced itself and
made ready to repel all boarders. When converting it, Aiden had
retained the original, impregnable double doors that now loomed
imposingly in front of Erika. Heaven only knew what kind of welcome
awaited her on the other side of them.
Rather than stand for ever in
uncertainty therefore, she tugged at the heavy iron bell pull and
waited, wishing she’d had the sense to think up a witty opening
line to explain her sudden reappearance.
However, as soon as the door
swung open and she saw Aiden again, the power of speech deserted
her and she could only stare.
Put simply, he looked
gorgeous.
Sexy, strapping, handsome. And
every other raunchy adjective that had ever been invented.
Even though every erotic memory
of him remained vivid, his sheer height, power and virility sent a
thousand impure thoughts racing into Erika’s head and she blushed
uncontrollably.
From his tousled hair and
unshaven face Erika guessed Aiden hadn’t been out of bed too long
and she took a private moment to conjure up the remembered warm,
sleepy scent of his neck as he hovered between waking and sleep. He
wore an old T-shirt and heavy cotton joggers riding low on his
hips, raising the tantalising suspicion that he’d pulled them on
when he’d climbed out of bed and was naked underneath.
The temptation to confirm that
suspicion threatened to overpower Erika but she decided to be
polite and wait until she was asked. Instead, she smiled at him
tremulously.
“Hello,” she said. “You’re
looking good.”
Very good indeed.
Aiden immediately packaged away
his look of astonishment and replaced it with one of doubt,
bordering on outright suspicion.
“Hi. How did you get in?” His
eyes did a similar stock-take of Erika and were presently undecided
between resting on her long, bare legs or the way her breasts
strained the sundress’s straps. “Are the main gates open?”
“No. Someone in the village told
me about the fisherman’s path. I walked.”
“That explains it. I thought I
hadn’t heard a car.” He hesitated, struggling to find something to
say. “Have you just driven up from London?”
“No. I arrived last night. I’m
staying at the Black Horse in Welham.”
“Don’t know it, I’m afraid.”
“It’s very nice. Quaint.
Although not quite Claridges.” She smiled hesitantly, willing Aiden
to let her in.
But throughout this excruciating
small talk Aiden held hard onto one of the double doors and rested
against the other, blocking Erika’s entry into the house. For the
first time, it occurred to her that showing up unannounced on a
Saturday morning had been a reckless thing to do. There was every
chance Aiden had a weekend guest – it would certainly account for
his reluctance to let her even see inside – and Erika wished she
hadn’t left her car so far away.