Anything but Vanilla(63)

‘No doubt, but it’s not about your mother, is it?’ The remains of the pizza were congealing in the box. ‘It’s about all the men in your life abandoning you.’

‘No...’ She swallowed. Yes... ‘Maybe. I’d never thought of it like that.’

‘So was the plan to become the Virgin Queen of ice cream?’ he asked, lightly enough, but it felt as if her life, her future, her choices were suddenly being questioned.

‘No. Of course not,’ she protested. ‘I was simply waiting for the perfect man to come along.’

‘Oh, right.’ He grinned. ‘Well, I can see why it’s been six years.’

‘No...’ She had to tell him. ‘I found him a long time ago. Graeme ticked all the boxes.’

‘Graeme Laing?’ He didn’t look particularly surprised.

‘He’s been my mentor since he gave a lecture at college and I stalked him for advice.’

‘Classic. I bet he didn’t know what had hit him.’

‘Maybe not, but he was kind.’ Flattered, amused even. ‘We go to parties, business dinners, I get to mix with high-fliers...’ Not that they ever treated her ‘little’ business as anything more than something amusing to keep the wife or girlfriend of someone as important as Graeme occupied when he had better things to do. But she watched them, listened to them, learned...

‘Does he know that he’s the chosen one?’

‘We have—had—a kind of unspoken agreement that we’ll get married eventually.’

‘When you’re grown up.’

‘What is that supposed to mean?’ she demanded, defending her choice.

‘He’s very nearly old enough to be your father, Sorrel, which is no doubt why he spoke to you as if you were a child.’

‘I can see that it must look as I was searching for a father figure. Maybe I was. But he’s not a man to kiss and run.’

‘Not a man to do more than kiss, apparently. And he let me walk away with you without lifting a finger to stop me.’

‘He didn’t know—’ She broke off. Of course he did. The sexual tension had been coming off them in waves when he’d turned up this afternoon. Jane had been embarrassed it was so obvious, and, while Graeme’s emotional antenna was at half mast, he wasn’t stupid.

If there had been a flicker of the heat that had consumed her from the moment she’d set eyes on Alexander, they would have fallen into bed a long time ago. She’d pushed him yesterday and he had grabbed Basil’s interruption with both hands.

‘You’re right,’ she admitted. ‘He ticks all the boxes but one. There is no chemistry between us. No fizz.’ It was as if he wanted her as his wife, but couldn’t quite bring himself to make the commitment. Step over a line that he’d drawn when she was a new graduate and he was her mentor. And now it was too late. ‘The moment I set eyes on you...’ She tried to think of some way to describe how she’d felt. ‘Did you ever have popping candy?’

‘The stuff that explodes on your tongue?’

‘Well, that’s how I felt when I saw you. As if I had popping candy under my skin.’





THIRTEEN



A little ice cream is like a love affair—an occasional sweet release that lightens the spirit.

—from Rosie’s ‘Little Book of Ice Cream’

Sorrel heard the words leaving her mouth and was aware that she was totally exposed. Emotionally naked. She’d told Alexander that she had her perfect man picked out, her life sorted, but, overwhelmed by some primitive rush, the kind of atavistic need that had driven women to destruction throughout the centuries, she’d thrown all that away because of him.

His hand was still on her cheek, his expression intense, searching. ‘I can’t be your perfect man, Sorrel.’

‘I know.’ She lay back on the grass, looking up at a clear sky that was more pink than blue. ‘You don’t tick a single box on the perfect-man chart, especially not the big one.’ She glanced across at him. ‘You’re a wanderer. You’ll leave in a few days but I always knew that. I put myself in a straightjacket when I was seventeen years old and thanks to you I’ve broken free.’

‘That’s a heck of a responsibility to lay on me.’

‘No!’ She put out her hand, reaching blindly for his. He mustn’t think that. He must never think that. ‘I’m not Ria, Alexander. You don’t ever have to feel responsible for me.’ She rolled onto her side to look at him, so that he could see her face as she drew a cross over her heart and said, ‘I promise I will never call you across the world to rescue me. You’ve already done that.’ She looked at him, golden and beautiful, propped on his elbow, a ripple of concern creasing his forehead, and she reached up to smooth it away. ‘It’s as if some great weight has been lifted from me and I feel light-headed, dizzy...’