The Night Of The Wedding. Kathryn RossЧитать онлайн книгу.
man as gorgeous as Nick on her arm. She could pretend that he was her lover, they could dance close together on the dance-floor, gaze into each other eyes. That would knock the arrogant smile off Stephen’s face. For a moment she felt a burst of happiness at the thought, then the daydream faded into reality. Stephen wouldn’t care if she were dating Prince William, and Nick wouldn’t want to pretend to be anything but her friend. It would be too embarrassing even to ask him.
Kate glanced at her watch and then got up to put the shopping away. She had better get a move on. She had invited Nick for dinner and he would be arriving in a little over an hour.
The lasagne safely in the oven and the table laid, she went to make herself presentable. She showered and changed into a pale blue skirt and matching top. Then she applied some make-up to hide the dark circles under her eyes and some brighter lipstick.
Not bad, she thought as she ran a smoothing hand over her long dark hair and stepped back to survey her appearance in the full-length mirror. She hadn’t seen Nick in a few days. He’d been to Paris on business and she had really missed him.
She didn’t think she would have been able to get through these last few weeks if it hadn’t been for Nick. Somehow being with him had made things feel better. He’d taken her out quite a bit, to the cinema and for drinks. Of course, she knew he was doing it to cheer her up, but she appreciated it…and it had worked. He had been very good company.
She felt excited at the prospect of spending the evening with him tonight; she glanced at the clock, counting the minutes until he’d arrive, and hoped his flight wasn’t delayed.
As Kate made to leave the bedroom she noticed a pile of Stephen’s books sitting on the top of a chest of drawers. She really needed to start sorting things out, putting his stuff into boxes and clearing out the debris. She took out an old suitcase from the top of one of the wardrobes and dropped the books inside. Then on impulse she started throwing a few other things in. It felt quite good tossing bits of Stephen into a box—his football kit, his magazines, his dreadful pictures of motor racing. She was starting to enjoy herself when the front doorbell rang.
Nick was standing on the front doorstep, a bouquet of flowers in his hand.
‘Hi.’ He smiled at her.
‘Hi, yourself.’ She grinned back at him, feeling happier than she had felt in a long time. ‘You’re just in time to help me carry a heavy suitcase down the hall.’
‘Am I? Whose suitcase is it?’
‘Guess?’ Kate reached to kiss him on the cheek and was overpowered by the scent of lilies and mimosa. His arms went around her, delaying her momentarily beside him.
‘So how are things with you?’ He looked deep into her eyes, his gaze moving over her face, noting the hollows beneath her cheeks, the slight shadows under her eyes.
She felt her body tingle with awareness at his closeness. Felt her heart starting to speed up, her pulses race. ‘I’m OK, but I’m glad you’re back.’ Did her voice sound as breathless as she suddenly felt? Perplexed by the rush of adrenalin, she pulled away from him and led the way into the apartment. ‘Thanks for the flowers,’ she said, burying her face into their sweet scent and breathing deeply.
‘It’s the least I could do when you’ve offered to cook me dinner.’ Nick grinned. ‘So, where’s this case you want me to carry out for you?’
‘It’s in the bedroom. You can do it later.’
As he followed Kate through the smart apartment to the dining room, he noticed that she had lost weight, the pale blue skirt that used to reveal the delightful curves of her hips now hung on her.
‘So, what’s the news?’ he asked. ‘Have you heard anything from Stephen?’
‘No, I’ve no news on that front. I just thought I’d make a start and pack up some of his stuff for him so it’s ready if he calls by.’
‘I’d throw it out if I were you,’ Nick muttered.
‘I couldn’t do that.’
Why not? Nick wondered as he watched her walk through to the kitchen to put the flowers in water. Surely she wasn’t still carrying a torch for Stephen after the way he’d treated her? The notion angered him. He wanted to tell her to just forget the guy.
‘Anyway, I’ve started to pack things up, because I’m going to have to move,’ she said as she returned to put the vase of flowers on the sideboard. ‘This apartment is too expensive for me to manage on my own, so I’ve had to give in my notice.’
‘Oh, Kate, I am sorry. I know how much you love this place.’
The gentleness of his tone made her insides twist with a painful kind of longing. She shrugged. ‘Maybe it’s for the best. There are a lot of memories here for me, and I’m better to move on, forget them.’
He nodded. ‘Have you seen anywhere you like yet?’
‘I’ve only looked through the papers. I’ll start in earnest next week.’
‘Well, if you’re stuck you can always stay in my spare room for a while.’
‘Thanks.’ She wondered what it would be like to stay at his place. For a moment her mind flicked back to the night she had slept there. She remembered the way she had felt when they had been alone in the bedroom, and how she had forgotten where she was the next morning and raced out into the landing to answer the phone, only to find Nick standing there with a towel around his waist, his hair and his body still glistening damply from the shower.
‘It’s for me,’ he had said calmly as he’d turned and met her eyes.
She had found herself gibbering something, her skin on fire, as she’d wrenched her gaze away from the powerful masculinity of his body.
Kate met his gaze now and felt herself heating up at the memory.
Maybe staying at Nick’s place wouldn’t be a good idea, she told herself.
She glanced at her watch and tried to bring her thoughts back to reality. ‘Help yourself to a drink, Nick. I’ll just check on the oven and then you can tell me all about Paris.’
When she came back, Nick had poured them both a glass of red wine.
‘How’s work?’ he asked as he handed her the drink.
‘Fine. I’m working with a new author. He writes horror stories with a difference.’
‘What’s different about them?’ He took off his jacket and slung it over the back of a chair.
‘The fact that I’m actually enjoying them.’ Kate turned and grinned at him, a return to her old good humour lurking in the bright green of her eyes. It had been a source of amusement between them when she had got a job editing horror stories, because she had always disliked the genre.
‘Trouble is, they’re keeping me up at night.’
‘They are so page-turning?’
‘No. Every time I hear a noise I have to put the lights on.’ She widened her eyes in mock fear. ‘They are scaring the hell out of me. If it carries on like this you are going to have to come and camp on my settee.’
‘I’ve heard some excuses in my time from women wanting me to stay the night, but never one as corny as that,’ Nick said with a shake of his head.
‘Spoilsport.’ Kate laughed.
She sipped the drink and surveyed him over the rim of the glass. He looked tanned and healthy. ‘The weather was obviously good in Paris.’
‘Not bad.’
‘Did you have a walk along the Seine?’
He nodded. ‘Only as far as a little restaurant on the Left Bank.’
‘That sounds nice.’ Kate frowned. Had he been dining on his own? she wondered