‘We do. We will.’
‘Not here though.’ He gestured with his hand around the room, most of it still chattering away but some of it silent, and watching the two of them. Marion and Lynne now had joined forces and were standing rather close, both grinning like lunatics. Oh God, she was embarrassed. And, oh shit, Hugo and the camera seemed to be heading towards Harmony. That couldn’t be allowed to happen. She signalled frantically at Lynne, hoping she could interpret her desperate ‘stop them’ semaphore.
Matt arched an eyebrow as she launched into charades across the room but he seemed determined that this was one conversation they would finish. She was pretty much in agreement with such a sentiment.
‘No, not here, but tonight. I promise to turn up this time. I’ll come to you. We’ll talk.’
‘OK, and I’ll make it special.’
‘Umm… argh… hmmm…’ Rosy lost the power of speech at the thought of that. ‘Right now I need to head that off at the pass.’ She gestured to Harmony and Matt grinned; he had heard enough stories to know why that was necessary and understood the arm-waving now.
‘Oh, Rosy Winter, go! I’ll mingle and I’ll see you later. Meet me at mine this evening. I should be there anytime on from six-ish, no, make that seven. Oh and, Rosy, we’re going to get to the bottom of a few things tonight, and do you know what, I think it’s all going to be OK.’
The stupid grin was still stuck to her face as she managed to insert herself in between the cameraman and Harmony as she started to answer Hugo’s question about the impact the project had had on her, the TV presenter’s face glazing over with perplexity as the teacher started to talk about moon cycles and planting.
Suddenly the door of the hall slammed loudly. Being old and heavy it had a habit of doing that and Rosy spun around to see who had walked in. She wasn’t alone; several others turned in natural response to the noise.
‘Blimey, would ya look at the legs on that!’ James from Class Three could be heard to say very loudly and the room suddenly fell silent, with the exception of the odd titter from James’s friends, unable to cope with the wanton sexuality of the woman who stood in front of them. A woman with a dark, sleek Cleopatra bob, legs up to her ears, wearing a scrap of red silk and a very predatory smile. Rosy started to head over to welcome their late guest, but the newcomer didn’t seem to need to wait for a welcome, slinking across the hall towards Matt and delivering a very public, not-suitable-for-children, X-rated kiss on his lips.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Rosy arrived home after all the fuss in the hall had died down. Matt had sped out of there as fast as fast can be. In his defence he did not have the look on his face of a man racing home to satisfy raging desire. Rather that of a man who was so completely done with the bullshit that he may hurl himself off a cliff.
Being up close to him again, and especially since the support offered by Chase and Katie, made her realize how desperately she wanted to give this man a chance, how he encapsulated all the qualities she deemed important and how, with his twinkly eyes and beautifully formed upper arms, it had been ages since she’d last had sex. Certainly the melty feeling that zoomed through her when the two of them were together was a very strong reminder of this fact. And she knew the way her body responded to him, the memory of their kiss, was making her puddle with lust.
All this postponing until tomorrow had been cowardice and the arrival of that woman was a reminder that he was not the sort of man that would be available for long. The expression on the faces of most of the mothers had been enough of an indicator.
Bizarrely, although she had felt a little pang of panic when the strange woman walked in and molested him in front of the entire school, she had also been full of a kind of zen calm. She really wasn’t used to zen calm. But she was pretty sure that’s what it was. It was as if someone had taken her brain and freed it of all its toing and froing and filled it up with unicorns and lilac and lullabies instead. Lullabies that said she was safe and secure with Matt. That it was fact that he had no interest in anyone but her and that he was going to understand why she had acted the way she had, and they were going to make babies and nest build…
Woah! All this surety was fabulous but maybe she needed to hold fire on the babies thing. And whilst it was great that she was now new zen-calm Rosy, the one thing that was fairly definite was that she needed to stop messing him about, tell him the truth and get this great romance started properly.
The clock binged in her hall. It was six now; she should go and see if he was ready yet, and if not, she could knock again later. There were going to be no more mixed messages from Rosy today, she was going to make it clear as could be.
She knew that he knew that what he needed was not a shiny showbiz love but a down-to-earth country girl, a girl who liked to bake, a girl who knew when to step up and apologize. A girl who would shoulder the blame and not make excuses. A girl who happened to live next door.
She put the cake tin down, twitched and twirled her green dress one more time and headed towards the door. She, Rosy Winter, was off to get her man!
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Bloody hell! He couldn’t believe his bad luck. He was not the type of man to be rude to anyone – he could see no merit in hurting a person’s feelings, as there would always be a way to get what you needed done without recourse to that – but he thought today he may have just hit his limit.
Siobhan was currently sitting in his kitchen making ridiculous demands, driving him mad and embarrassing him to a point of no return whilst he escaped to the bathroom for some thinking time. His poxy sister, the author of this particular little play, no doubt still swilling champagne at Chase’s house, should be taking responsibility for this. He had no interest in scary scantily clad women in his home, unless they were Rosy, and this one very clearly wasn’t.
It had been a funny kind of day. He had been unsure what to expect at the school. Rosy had been absent of late, failing to get in touch as she’d promised, and prior to that she had blown hot and cold and he hadn’t known what the hell was going on in her mind. Chase had been helpful in his encouragement and his words seemed to have a ring of truth today when Rosy had said she had been an idiot. He was relieved she had thought so and been bold enough to say it; it meant that the two of them had a chance at resolving all miscommunication between them, and both understood that a bit of straight-talking and a lot less supposing was the way forward.
Today had definitely looked like it was going to end on a high; her scowling from previous weeks had been replaced with smiles and whispered asides. That high had lessened when he was launched upon by the scary, possibly drug-addled woman currently sitting in his kitchen with next to nothing on. He hadn’t dared make eye contact with Rosy as he had whisked Siobhan out of the school hall filled with children and TV cameras. He was going to kill Angelina! However, once he had got rid of her, and that was going to happen any minute now, he was going to make sure tonight went without so much as a ripple. He had big plans, and he needed to get rid of Siobhan so he could do clever things with candles, jam jars and a projector. He would show Rosy that he wasn’t interested in anyone else, that they had undeniable chemistry, enjoyed the same things and that it made sense to give it a go. He was going to make it so romantic, an honest gesture of intent. Something to make her see that he was serious. Somewhere that got her as far away from the doubts she had as possible. And bloody Siobhan.
So, bloody Siobhan was the first thing he was going to have to sort out, way before organizing candles, making a romantic declaration, or even the gifting of the Valentine’s orchid could occur. He needed that woman back in London very soon, preferably in the next five minutes.
He breathed in deep, unlocked the loo door and headed downstairs to be polite but firm. Very firm. Maybe not so polite.
He approached the kitchen, her coat lifted from the banister in his hand. There – a physical sign of intent. And an aimed shot at the whole ‘but I don’t know where I put my things’ line that she was likely to use.
‘Right!’ He swung the door open and announced his arrival. ‘Now whilst I appreciate… oh, you are joking me! Please put your clothes back on.’
‘Yah, but don’t you like me like this?’ purred Siobhan, who, for whatever reason (OK, he knew the reason) was crawling around the kitchen floor on all fours in her underwear and a pair of uncomfortable-looking heels.
‘No, I’m sure lots of men find you very charming but I would prefer you got dressed.’
