Say hello kiss goodbye, p.11
Say Hello, Kiss Goodbye, page 11
She cocked her head, her mitts meeting her hips. “Tarquin—is this your first time?”
I can’t lie to her face. Just be cheeky and hope she laughs. A glint sparkled in his eyes. “Ah, you’ve got me sussed. Yep, I’m a virgin.”
Leia chuckled and playfully swatted his arm, barely making contact. “You are such a guy! Why didn’t you just tell me?”
I love that little giggle she does. Smiling with delight, his dimples deepened. “You seemed so excited. And I thought, hey, I can skateboard—how much harder can it be to skate on ice?” He bit his lip, stifling a laugh. “The answer is: a lot!”
She wrinkled her nose, her glance breezing over a hand-holding couple skating past. “C’mon, ice virgin. I’ll show you the ropes.”
Ah, bless. A tingling sensation swelled in his chest. Leia bent over, giving her right leg a rub. What’s up with that? “You okay?”
Waving away his concern, she straightened up. “I pulled something landing that jump. Told you I was out of practice.” She looked over her shoulder then met his smile again, her ponytail slicing through the air. “So, skating tips. See how I’m standing? Copy what I’m doing. Avoid hunching forward or leaning back, keep your weight on the balls of your feet. Your toes should be slightly pointed out—like this.”
Tarquin peered at her skates and adjusted his accordingly.
“And bend your knees a bit. It’ll help with balance.”
“Soft knees, just like skateboarding,” he said.
“Exactly! Your arms, though—relax them by your sides and keep your head up. You’ll be tempted to watch your feet, but don’t. You need to be aware of where you’re going so you don’t crash.”
“Been there, got several t-shirts.” He groaned and rubbed his hip.
Leia grimaced. “Well, tell me if I’m going too fast or if you want to stop. I promise, I won’t let you fall.” A swoop of red, white, and black—her left mitt—curled tight around his right glove.
Yes! Get in! He softly squeezed her hand as the nasally whine of Oasis gave way to the frisky sixties nostalgia of “Help Yourself” by Tom Jones, all beckoning brass and toe-tapping tempo. Ah! If Leia listens to the lyrics, tries them on for size, I’ll be one happy bloke.
She tilted her head with a squint. “You okay?”
“Oh, yeah. Brilliant! It’s just this song, it’s a classic…” He bit back his grin and swung her hand. “So, left skate first?”
“Sure. Let’s push off with the left, then right. But just small strokes to start.” She blinked up at him. “You ready?”
“Are you?” Tarquin exhaled into a laugh, sending a warm cloud of breath into the air. “This isn’t what you signed up for. I really should’ve told you I can’t skate.” But I really wanted to see you again.
“And I shouldn’t have assumed you could.” She scraped a toe pick along the ice. “But we’re all laced up and ready to rock, so let’s make Ava proud of Uncle Talk, ’kay?”
Aw, she’d love you. He grinned. “Let’s smash it.”
Hand in hand, they moved forward together. Leia’s strokes were slow and graceful while Tarquin’s drifted toward choppy and impatient. She encouraged him along the way, but a full-on conversation was put on ice as he concentrated. Left foot glide, right foot glide, left foot glide…
Halfway around the large rink, Leia beamed. “You’re doing great! How does it feel?”
“Uh, good.” Actually, these boots are rubbing my toes all to hell. It’s blister city down there. He kept his chin up, fighting the impulse to eyeball his skates.
“Great!” She squeezed his hand. “Try to glide more than step. See what I’m doing?”
He studied her feet, easily stroking beneath her. Coping her movements, he looked up, gawking at the blue and pink spotlights washing over Somerset House’s majestic white façade.
A few wobbles, desperate hand squeezes, and one lesson in stopping later, and Tarquin’s strokes were becoming less jerky and more fluid, his confidence growing with each completed lap.
This is fun! He grinned at the slightly brown but still sparkly Christmas tree, at little kids zooming past at twice his speed, but most of all, he grinned at Leia by his side, hand in hand. She’s so patient. And she’s athletic as fuck—such a turn-on.
Leia ogled Somerset House and bobbed her head to an Adele track, her smile in no hurry to leave. “This place is so pretty. The website doesn’t do it justice.”
“Yeah, they do a grand job.” Oh, shit—yeah. She had a job thing yesterday. “Hey, speaking of, how’d the interview go?”
“Good—I think. It was hard to tell.”
I hope it went well, but I also hope it didn’t. A tightness clenched his chest. Maybe she’d stay here if there’s bugger all to go home to? He cleared his throat. “Yeah, especially over Skype.”
Leia nodded. “My boss was wonderful, but the HR person frowned the entire time. He knows of me, but—” She cut herself off. “I just hope I gave good interview. A coworker texted me last night and said the daughter of the editor of Vogue applied. I don’t know, it might be too steep a hill for someone like me to climb.”
“What’s with the ‘someone like you’?” Rounding a corner, Tarquin dipped his chin, checking out his skates, then looked up again. “Leia, you’re an amazing candidate. You’re friendly and smart, good on paper, too—your master’s and experience scream ‘Hire me!’. I know I would.”
A grin met her blush. “Aw, thanks.”
“Your designs are brilliant. What more proof of your creativity and resourcefulness do they need? I bet this Vogue sprog doesn’t get a look in.”
“If only.” She let out a heavy breath. “A position like this has come up twice, and twice it went to someone else. I was promised the next one, but…”
“Well, that’s bollocks, but I have a feeling your luck is about to change.”
Glancing at him, a warm smile lifted the corners of Leia’s mouth. “Like yours? Look at you, Scott Moir, ice dancer extraordinaire! I knew you’d get the hang of it. Ready to let go?”
She wants her hand back. Dammit. “But don’t ice dancers, you know…hold hands all the time?”
“Not all the time, but they do have to skate as close together as possible and in unison.” She squeezed his hand. “Look, if you feel unsteady—”
“No, it’s not that…” Actually, it’s exactly that. I like holding your hand. Christ, needy much, Tarq? He gulped and looked straight ahead. Don’t be a wuss. “Okay, let’s give it a go.”
Leia released his hand and scrutinized his strokes. The choppy strides and wavy arms of earlier were long gone. “See? You’re a natural! We could go all night.”
We could definitely go all night, no skates required. Tarquin shot her a slow smile that grew with each glide. I mean it, Leia. Just say the word. He grinned at the thought of an intimate soak for two in his large tub, followed by deep massages and even deeper kisses, her hands exploring, skimming down his abs and curling around him tight… He gasped, his pulse hammering in his chest and a scorching heat hardening in his jeans. Someone is eager. He smoothed his free hand down his long coat, keeping his predicament secret. I can’t come on too strong. I can’t fuck this up. He pushed harder, faster, sweeping around a corner with Leia matching his speed. Coming out of the turn, his skates dug in, and his left blade clipped the back of his right boot. “Jesus!” He stumbled, knocking Leia off-kilter.
“Shit!” Her sharp retort shot a burst of warm breath into the chilly breeze. Stabbing a toe pick into the ice, she swerved and cut him off. Knees clashing, blades tangling, Leia clutched his coat and shoved his shoulders back, halting his plunge. “You okay?” She swallowed a gulp of frosty air.
Tarquin pulled her in, her rapid puffs of breath skating across his cheek. Bloody hell! “You saved me.” He chuckled, his chest rising and falling, the scent of her perfume making him deliriously dizzy. “You sure you’re not a Jedi?”
A burst of awkward laughter split her smile. She loosened her death grip on his coat and stepped back, pulling off her mitts.
Shit. Nice one. She hates Star Wars and you blurt out a film-related compliment? Idiot. Tarquin followed her lead, straightening up and releasing her from his bear hug. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
But Leia leaned in again, plucking a piece of fluff from his shoulder. “Well, I told you I wouldn’t let you fall, didn’t I?” Her soft gaze felt warm and playfully confident.
Wait—what? She’s not annoyed? Tarquin’s heart pounded in his chest, the giddy ache for her conspiring into a single purpose. I’m dying to kiss you. He swallowed thickly, refusing to let the moment fizzle—unless Leia wasn’t keen—but her shallow breaths and her fixed stare, curious and wanting, hinted otherwise. “Leia…?” His raspy question hung between them as he tilted his head and dragged his eyes down to her pout…beckoning, waiting.
“CAREFUL!” A booming command cut through the air as someone rammed between them, a human bowling ball knocking Tarquin straight onto his ass.
“Oh, shi—” Leia held her balance and bent down. “Are you okay?”
Without a whine or tears, a spritely little girl dusted ice from her coat. “He’s rubbish!” Blonde braids swinging, she stuck out her tongue and sprung back onto her blades, rejoining her mother, who mouthed “Sorry” through her horrified wince.
Leia snorted, fighting back laughter.
Hit and run over by a six-year-old, for fuck’s sake! Can we talk emasculating? Tarquin groaned and sat up, holding his ribs. I surf huge waves, crawl through caves, and kite ski down mountains, all without a scratch—and here I get bowled over by a hostile Cindy Lou Who in front of the woman I’m trying to impress. Bloody figures. Waving off Leia’s help, he slowly returned to his feet, the blisters inside his socks searing and tingly. This is such a boner-killer—for her and me.
Leia raised her eyebrows. “You sure you’re okay?” She swept snow and ice from his sleeve.
She’s cringing. Great. Yeah, not the manliest of moments, was it? Kiss goodbye to a second date. He lifted his chin. “Never been better.” I can’t wait to tear these flippin’ skates off. My feet are gonna be a horror show. Reaching inside his coat, he pulled out his flask, offering it to her.
“Uh, no—thanks.” A passing frown dipped her lips as she cleared her throat. “I don’t drink, remember?”
He unscrewed the cap. “I know. It’s orange and lemonade. For you.” Not that it matters a jot. After this, I’ll probably never see her again.
Leia’s expression softened. “Oh”—she tucked her mittens under her arm—“that’s sweet, thanks.” She accepted the flask, taking a quick sip. She licked her lips and shivered. “Our session’s almost over…”
And so is our date. Tarquin nodded. It’s for the best. She lives in New York. This was never going to work. “Yeah. Just in time too.” He shrugged. “At least you’ve got the rest of your night—”
“What?” She glanced up, her brows furrowed as she handed back the flask. “No, it’s too early to go home.” Clutching her mittens in one hand, she released her ponytail with the other and fluffed her hair, letting it pool around her shoulders. “I was going to suggest heading somewhere together to warm up.”
She doesn’t want to cut and run? “Actually, it would be nice to feel my toes again.” He half-laughed, screwing on the flask’s cap. Okay, here’s my chance to say goodbye properly. “I know a place across the river with an amazing view. The OXO Tower on the South Bank?”
“It sounds wonderful and…classy.” Leia snapped her hair tie over her wrist and pointed at her skates. “Bet they’d love me showing up with these over my shoulder.” She tugged on her mitts.
Bugger. “Ah, right. You brought them with you.” So much for taking her somewhere special. He tucked the flask in his coat’s inside pocket. “Well, we could go for noodles or sushi? Head to a pub? What do you fancy?”
She stroked closer, curling her mitts around his coat’s lapels. “It’s not a question of what I fancy…but who,” she whispered, her breath sweet with orange. The unwavering stare of her blue eyes urged his surrender.
Fuck. Me. A rocket of heat pulsed through Tarquin’s body. He dipped his chin toward their skates. “How quick can we get out of these things?”
Nine
LEIA
Padding into Tarquin’s dark living room in her stocking feet, Leia glanced over her shoulder. Can he see me from his coat closet? No? Be quick! She stooped and tugged her hosiery taut while she kept an eye on the doorway. Stupid things, always falling down. Mid-pull, an image of Tarquin doing the opposite flashed through her mind, his strong hands peeling the tights down her thighs…past her knees, past her pedicured toes…
A feverish rush frolicked in her chest, tussling with nerves she fought to squash. Sleeping with someone new is always a bit… argh! Being naked for the first time… Will he still be attracted to me? Will he like what I like? God, I hope he’s not hairy in weird places! She chuckled to herself. I think I’ve chosen wisely. Tarquin’s not a dick. He’s friendly, respectful—we have amazing sexual chemistry. She smoothed her dress as the lights came on. And he’s fit! I can’t wait to explore his muscles, his happy trail…
She bit back her smile and stood up, a low-pitched mechanical hum rising behind her. I know that sound. Playfully, she rolled her eyes. Boys and their toys. She spun toward the whirr of the rising wall of electric blinds disappearing into the ceiling. I bet he—holy shit! Her eyes bulged. It’s… that old bridge! She gasped, marveling at the massive neo-Gothic towers dramatically lit against the cold, dark sky. There’s crazy rich—and then there’s THIS. A heavy swallow bobbed her throat. He said he lived near Tower Bridge—he didn’t say he lived on TOP of it!
All thoughts of happy trail joy flittered away, replaced by the spectacular picture-postcard view. The bridge’s famous Victorian towers crowded his penthouse’s floor-to-ceiling windows, giving the impression that they were just another enviable trophy Tarquin had acquired along with his framed marathon medals, neon-flashing Guardians of the Galaxy pinball machine, and…
No way! It’s not! Is it? Leia’s jaw dropped.
A large framed silkscreen print stole her breath. This one’s always been my favorite. It must’ve set him back… well, I don’t even know how much. She loosely crossed her arms and stared wide-eyed, her fingers clutching the sleeves of her dress.
The sound of Tarquin clearing his throat turned her head. She smiled, pushing aside the stunned shock threatening to render her speechless. “Hey! Your view…my god. You can almost reach out and touch that bridge!”
“Yeah, it’s quite something, especially at sunrise.” Grinning sheepishly, he pulled off his beanie. Tufts of his auburn hair sprang to attention. “Sorry I took so long. There was a text I had to…” He scratched his temple, his gaze hopping to the bridge and back again. “So, can I get you a drink? I’ve got sparkling water, orange and lemonade. I might have some cola around somewhere…” He smoothed down his hair and fumbled his hat, dropping it on the hardwood floor.
I thought he seemed nervous on the way here. He didn’t even try to kiss me. “Orange and lemonade would be great.” She admired the view again. “Thanks.”
Scooping up his beanie, Tarquin’s mouth curved into a smile. “Oranges and lemons, says the bells of St. Clement’s. Be right back!” He tossed the beanie onto his gray sofa, long and wide enough for two adults to lie down and cuddle in front of his massive 85” television, and slipped into the kitchen.
I should text Saz. Leia pulled her phone from her dress’s pocket, typing ‘At Tarquin’s on Shad Thames, all good.’ She hit send and tucked it away, her eyes mimicking a pinball from Tarquin’s Guardians game, ricocheting from one surprise to another: a tall glass-windowed display case painted to look like one of those old British red telephone boxes and a life-size Star Wars Stormtrooper standing guard against a nearby wall. Just the John Williams’ theme, eh? She ran her fingers along the 6’5” tall figure, its white fiberglass dust-free and buffed to a shine. Wow, it’s the real deal. Dad would flip!
She wandered over to the red display case and patted its side. What? Nooo! It’s real, too?! Her pulse tripped in her chest and kept its stammering beat. Tarquin owns a telephone box! She peered through its windows. There are shelves inside—filled with books! Opening the heavy cast-iron door, she studied the titles holding court where a phone used to hang. Hardback business autobiographies, Bill Bryson paperbacks, and Star Wars encyclopedias stood spine against spine with cookbooks, travel guides, and several children’s favorites, including titles by Dr. Seuss and Maurice Sendak.
“I had to have that.”
Leia glanced over her shoulder. Tarquin strolled in, his hands occupied by two colorful beverages, ice cubes tinkling.
“You know me—savior of discarded things.” He laughed. “So many of these old boys are being sentenced to the scrap heap. I bought it at auction, had it restored. Looks good, doesn’t it?”
“I love it. So much.” She closed the weighty door and brushed her hand along its edge. “I had no idea you could buy them, though.” Taking her St. Clement’s from Tarquin, her smile swept the tidy living room, easily five times the size of her post-divorce studio apartment in New York. “Your home is incredible. The building is so huge and close to the Thames. Was it a warehouse before?”
“It was a brewery, dating back to 1871.” He sipped his raspberry soft drink. “They converted it into flats about thirty years ago. The views from my top floors are spectacular. Not Shard spectacular, but still nice.”
“Top floors—plural?” She stuttered, catching a familiar face smiling up from the hardwood—Ava’s fuzzy unicorn, awaiting its journey to Orkney.
“Yeah. There are five floors, outdoor terraces on every level.”
Leia gulped.
He chuckled as if fully aware of how crazy that sounded. “I know. It’s a lot for one person.” He scratched his chest through his black sweater. “And a cat.”
