CHAPTER NINE – HAYLEY
I just kissed Beckett Sand. I loved it.
I sat beside him in the car, mind whirling. My whole body shivered as if I had been plunged in a bath of ice, and yet I was not cold. I was catching fire, every inch of me filled with a delicious tingling, from my feet to the roots of my hair. I wanted him. I wanted to push that stunning body back onto the bed and like with him.
This is insane.
I glanced at him. He was looking out of the window, sitting quite formally as if I was the chief executive of a rival firm and we were discussing a merger. I sighed.
He probably doesn’t feel anything for me.
But yet…
But yet he had looked at me in the bedroom, when we were discussing the new dress. He had squeezed my hand and joked with me when I was scared. He looked at me so tenderly when we were drinking in the cafe. And then…
His lips on mine had been tender, gentle, probing. He might have been acting for the photographers, but it felt like a real kiss. It was a master-work. My whole body had turned to a melty mess under his tongue and I wished I could have kissed him endlessly.
I wish I knew what this was about, I thought sadly.
He had told me his company needed him to have stability; to look established and serious. I agreed that being married had these virtues. But was that really all there was to it? I thought there must be something more. The dress, the theater tickets, the accommodation…yes, he was rich. But surely he wouldn’t put such a huge outlay into just making himself look respectable.
“Hayley?”
“Yes?”
“You like Japanese food?”
“Sushi and that?” I asked. “Love it!”
He grinned. “Well, we can start with that. Personally, I always feel hungry after Japanese. So we might head off somewhere else after that.”
I smiled. “I sympathize. That sounds good.”
He chuckled. “We have a shared secret, then.”
“Yes.”
His green eyes sparkled. His hand was inches away from me and I wished, more than anything just then, that I could risk taking it in my own. Giving it a firm squeeze. We were conspirators. He was a friend.
We stopped at a stylish restaurant and I slid out, making a little swivel on the seat to stop my panties showing. I was glad my years on Broadway had taught me some useful things. He waited for me and we walked in together.
The restaurant proprietor led us to the best table, and we sat together, perusing the menu. I looked around, still lost in a haze of wonder. I dimly recognized some of the faces at the tables. Sure, I’d seen them on television sometime. I probably had.
“Hayley?”
“Mm?”
“Should we take the mixed platter? Always a good bet.”
“Yes!” I nodded enthusiastically. “It’s nice to share.”
He swallowed hard. “Yes,” he muttered.
I felt shy suddenly. I supposed I’d gone a bit far. We were only pretending, after all. Maybe he felt uncomfortable with that level of conversation.
“You liked the play?” I asked, changing the subject.
“I don’t know,” he said, grinning. “My neck froze in place halfway through the first half, and I kinda lost interest after that.”
I laughed loudly. I couldn’t help it. It was such a funny statement. “Oh, Beckett!”
He blushed. “What?”
“Nothing,” I said. I was still laughing, though. “If I wasn’t very sure you weren’t one, I’d say you’re a Philistine.”
It was his turn to laugh. “How do you know I’m not?” he challenged.
“I’ve seen your garden. And your house. I know you’re not.”
He blushed. “Thank you,” he said.
He ordered our food and some tea and we sat silently, waiting for it to arrive.
“Hayley?”
“Yes?”
“You’re okay, right? The press and everything…it’s not, well, too demanding?”
I swallowed, feeling my throat tighten up with emotion. “Thank you for thinking of that,” I whispered. “But no. I’m okay.”
“Of course I thought of it,” he said, sounding surprised.
He actually cares, I thought, surprised.
We were both silent for a moment, looking into each other’s eyes. The food arrived. I grinned and he eyed it suspiciously.
I had lifted my chopsticks, about to select a piece. He looked hesitant.
“I hate using those things,” he confessed. He was blushing when he said it, cheeks red. “I always make a fool of myself. I’ll use my fingers, if that’s okay?”
I laughed. “It’s not so hard. Let me show you.”
I reached over to his hand, guiding his fingers into the proper place. He had fingers thick with muscle, and touching their warm skin sent a flush of pleasure through me. I looked up at his eyes and he was looking at me, his own warm and watchful.
I gulped and took away my hand.
“You see?” I said, swallowing the rush of feeling that had gone through me. “It’s easy.”
He was still looking at me, a slow smile spreading across his face.
“I trust you,” he said, clicking them experimentally, “so if you say it’ll work, I’ll give it a try…”
He reached for a piece, managed to convey it to his mouth and took a bite. The other half slipped from the chopsticks and landed on his napkin in his lap.
I giggled. He swallowed and then burst out laughing, putting the chopsticks aside.
“Nope, I’m sorry, Hayley.” he was grinning, embarrassed. “I’ll resort to being rude.”
Having said that, he lifted a piece of sushi and quite elegantly popped it in his mouth.
I sighed. I’d never experienced someone so sexy before. Hell, everything he did aroused me. I looked away, selecting my own piece.
“You know what?” he said.
“What?”
“I’m quite jealous of how you just did that.”
I laughed. “You need practice, mister.”
“I’ll bet I do.”
“Well, then. We’ll have to come here every night for a week till you get it.”
He laughed. “It’s quite good, isn’t it?”
I nodded, swallowing my mouthful. It was wonderful.
“It is,” I agreed.
“Well, I think we should take you up on that, then,” he agreed.
“You’re on!”
“And then, if you like, we can try the new restaurant over by the theater,” he suggested. “Though you might want to come into that every night next week!”
We laughed.
“I probably will,” I agreed. “If it’s half as good as this one.”
He nodded. Then his phone made a message-tone and he grimaced. “Sorry,” he said. “I have to take that.” He dug it out of his jacket pocket and read whatever was written there. I saw his face fall and he went white.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing,” he said, his voice unnaturally light. “Nothing to worry about.”
“Oh,” I said mildly.
“I’d just better write a reply, and then we’ll be sorted. Want dessert?”
I frowned. We still had half a plate of sushi to try. He was distracted. And something was definitely not nothing to worry about.
“I’m okay,” I said. “I’m busy with this,” I added, indicating the plate.
“Oh, fine! Yes. Sorry,” he added, realizing his gaffe. “I’m also, um, still busy with it.”
He reached for the chopsticks, thought better of it, and put them down. Used his fingers instead.
“You need lessons, mister,” I reminded him. He laughed.
The evening ended on a merry note, though as we drove home, after yet another restaurant and the stir and odd photo or two coming out, I was still worried.
Something happened that upset him. I can feel it.
Even though he was relaxed and laughing, his friendly self, as we drove home I could feel the way he was tenser, stiffer than he had been. Something was up.
By the time we reached home, all sleepy from the long evening, the thought had more or less slipped from my mind.
“Goodnight,” he said softly on the gravel drive as we alighted from the car.
“Goodnight,” I whispered to him.
He stared at me and I stared back, but then he was turning, walking back into the house. His tall form moved briskly up the stairs ahead of me and before I could say anything, he had disappeared into the far reaches of that rambling house.
Goodnight, I thought as I disrobed and slipped into the shower. Sweet dreams.
I was asleep as soon as my head touched the soft, fluffy pillow.