‘But what about your cocktails?’
He’s shaking his head. ‘Those can wait for another time. One of us needed to stay sober to get you home.’
As the words sink in, I let out a moan. ‘Oh crap. On the upside it tasted totally fant … fant … fant … fant … abulous.’ I’m not sure that’s even a word. As for standing on a see-through chair, I can’t recommend it. It’s like those glass floors you get in tall, expensive buildings that no one can walk on because they give you vertigo – only worse. When I look down past the toes of my boots I can see straight through to the floor below and it’s like when you paddle and the sea rushes past your feet and makes you dizzy. It’s so bad I do one of those awful lurches, the ones that you get when you’re dropping off to sleep and you feel like you’ve just fallen off a cliff.
I’ve almost found my balance point again when Nic yells. ‘Milla, watch out!’
‘Watch out? Forwhat?’ I spin round so fast to look, I might have been fine if the damned chair legs hadn’t been made of jelly. As it is, the wobbling goes bananas, and the next thing I know I’m doing one of my dream falls through the air. Except, as the polished concrete rushes towards me at a hundred miles an hour, it suddenly hits me – I’m not asleep, I’m awake. The last things I see are the see-through chair arm, hurtling towards me and Nic’s outstretched arms.
Then there’s a final flash of yellow and everything goes black.
Chapter 20
Later on Thursday.
Outside Brides by the Sea.
Singalongs and softplay.
‘Well, thanks for the lift back.’
I’m in the passenger seat, watching as Nic turns into the mews and comes to a halt in front of Brides by the Sea.
He pulls on the handbrake, leans forward and rests his forearms on the steering wheel. ‘And thank you for the in-car entertainment.’
Okay, I might have been singing along toUptown Girl. Probably at the top of my voice. Lucky for him there was only time for two repeats.
‘And I’m really sorry … for all of it.’ For landing in his arms when I fell off the damned chair. For knocking us off balance. As if getting accidentally off my face isn’t bad enough, falling on top of my client when he manfully puts his body in the way as he tries to stop me smashing my skull on the floor – well that’s unforgivable. Made all the worse by Casper diving in too. Don’t ask why he thought jumping in with a rugby tackle so we all ended up in a heap on the concrete would be helpful.
Nic swallows. ‘Given the successful outcome with the castle booking, I think we can overlook the rest.’
But I still want to make it clear. ‘However it looks, I don’t make a habit of getting wasted.’ Thanks to the wind blasting straight off the beach and into my face, I’m a lot less wooshy than I was. A lot more back in the room.
He gives me a sideways glance. ‘Only once every three weeks then.’
I roll my eyes. ‘At work I’m usually much more—’ I’m looking out at the mews, the stone washed in the yellow light from the street lamps, the shop window lit up and snowy with tulle, studded with tiny lights ‘—more careful. More … not drunk.’
‘I’ll take your word for it.’ Nic sniffs. ‘I was going to suggest you came down to the boat for pancakes.’
That’s not appropriate. For so many reasons. ‘Truly, however hungry I am, that’s never going to work. I doubt I’d make it onto the jetty without falling into the harbour.’ I give a little shiver as I think about it and reach for the door handle. Me throwing myself at him once is enough for today. ‘I’d better go up.’
As I bump my shoulder against the door to open it, his hand lands on my arm. ‘Hang on, we don’t want you in a heap on the cobbles. I’ll come and help you out.’
That’s the thing, people who haven’t drunk anything can move so much faster than people who have. A split second later I’m still where I was and he’s arrived at the open door. And even though I’m on the passenger side instead of in the driving seat, however much I’m trying for it not to be, it’s still like Valentine’s night revisited. You’d think after being crushed in a heap together I’d be over the scent of him, but another head-spinning waft blows over me.
‘Right, let’s do this.’ I’m peering down at the pavement and getting ready to leap, but mostly all I can see is the front of Nic’s shirt inside his open jacket. The denim of his jeans stretched tight across his thighs in the half light. The bulge of his Adams apple as he swallows.
‘It’s a long way down for someone who’d fall off the jetty.’ He sends me a grin. ‘Here, grab my hand.’
Even slightly drunk people know how to get out of a van – you put one arm on the dash handle and the other on the door post. If I’d done that, I’d have been fine. As it is, when I begin to lower myself and he grabs one of my hands, I’m done for. Again. This time my tumble is less spectacular but the result so much worse – I plummet downwards and he doesn’t step backwards. So I simply body slam into him and end up rammed between him and the van seat. Fully engulfed in the heat from inside his coat, all I can hear is the sound of my heart hammering against my chest wall and the distant roar of the waves crashing far below us on the beach.
I’m staring up at him, and for however long he’s staring down at me, it’s like our eyes are locked. I hear the clatter of two hearts banging really loudly. And then someone – it could be me – lets out a groan. ‘Oh frig.’
You don’t need to ask – thanks to all the gin, my lust-ometer went off-the-scale quite a few hours ago. Due to my huge breath in, my boobs are practically bursting the buttons off the front of my dress and my knee’s somehow rammed between his legs in a way that’s terrible news for everything everywhere that’s aching to be rubbed. It’s as if time’s standing still, my lungs feel like they’re going to explode. And his face is dipping down towards mine, I’m closing my eyes, parting my lips, standing on tiptoe to reach …
‘Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh!’ It takes a second to realise that squawk came from me.
Nic steps back, but now he’s staring at me even harder. ‘Everything okay, Milla?’
