Pitch Imperfect(7)
“Shit.” The tremor in her voice was unfeigned. “I’m sorry, okay? It’s bad form to have sex with one man while thinking about another, but I couldn’t help it. Brendan’s the best I’ve ever had and I wanted to recapture how it felt to be with him.”
“You used me?”
“Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t think you’d mind getting laid.”
Rob unpeeled his condom, his movements short and jerky. “I’m glad I could be of service.”
Anjuli clutched the duvet, twisting it in her hands. “Service? You talked so much I had to block out your voice.”
If looks could kill she would be drawn, hung and quartered.
“You dragged me into your flat,” he reminded her. “You said you missed me and that you wanted me.”
Anjuli tried to shrug but her shoulder refused to obey. “I...I say a lot of things to get what I want, especially when I’ve had a few too many. I’m a celebrity, Rob. I constantly fake how I really feel. This time I faked that I wanted you.”
No response except a long, hard look.
“Oh, bloody hell. Did you think what just happened actually meant something? That it was a romantic prelude to happy-ever-after? You’re the one I left at the altar for something much better than marital boredom, remember?”
The air seemed to still and charge with fury as Rob digested her words. He backed away until he was at the opposite wall, his face a dark mask of rage. Anjuli’s scalp tingled and her hairs stood on end, and for a second she wished she’d allowed Ash to keep her informed about him. That way she would know whether Rob had turned into a serial killer.
He might be glowering as if he wanted to throttle her, but did he despise her yet? She had to make sure that he would.
“I’ve learned my lesson about one-night stands,” she said. “There’s no substituting the man I want with poor seconds.”
“You wanted me, don’t try to deny it.”
“I wanted a cock I could pretend was Brendan’s,” she said, hating her disgusting, insulting words. “And now I want that cock to leave.”
Anjuli got off the bed and pulled on her dressing gown. She had to get out of the bedroom before she told him she was lying, that her heart was bleeding because she was hurting him, losing him all over again. Guilt and self-loathing rose to the back of her throat, bile she gagged on and swallowed.
Rob followed her to the sitting room, a towering, naked man at her back, exuding wrath. He gathered his clothing and dressed swiftly. At the door he paused and regarded her silently. Hastily, Anjuli opened it and steeled herself to look at him.
“I never want to see you again,” she said.
Rob pushed his answer through gritted teeth. “Whatever you want.”
Chapter Three
Heaverlock, present
Rob turned his head, breaking eye contact and releasing Anjuli from memories of that bitter night. He cleared his throat and launched into a defence of the windmill proposal, as if they hadn’t just spent a lifetime staring at each other across the crowded pub. His words were fluid and measured, but she could see the tension in the angles of his body, the slight strain around his mouth and eyes.
Gradually, Anjuli became aware of the low hum of murmuring voices, of villagers dividing their attention between the man on the platform and the woman gaping at him like an idiot. Damn it! Nothing ever went smoothly where Rob was concerned. Crouching, she picked up the broken glass, careful of the sharp edges against her skin.
She could see the headlines now: Has-Been Singer Slits Wrists in Borders Village Pub After Encounter with Former Fiancé. Dies in Lumpy Mess on Flagstones.
Of course, that would be one way to avoid apologising to Rob.
Anjuli tried to calm herself with slow, regulated breaths, wishing like hell that the heat would drain from her face. Rob’s voice made a mockery of her efforts. His Scottish brogue, a musical lilt of lowlander words and rolling r’s, enveloped her like cashmere, wrapping her in unwanted memories. That is, until strident female tones she recognised from secondary school interrupted the onslaught.
Her old geography teacher, Maggie Drummond, was in battle mode. She gave the leaflet in her hand an irate look before she transferred her gaze to Rob. “Our moors are rich with native flora and fauna, like the hen harriers that nest and hunt in the Redesburn valley. These hawks are an important part of our environment and I refuse to see them eviscerated by wind turbines.”
Huh? Anjuli sprang to her feet. If Maggie was worried about the Redesburn valley then they must be thinking of siting the wind farm close to the village. But how close exactly? Those moors extended far and wide, backing onto Castle Manor to the south. She racked her brain, trying to dredge up what the land search had said. Surely she’d remember if a wind farm had been on the cards, wouldn’t she? From now on she would read every bit of paper that came through her door. And she was going to pay close attention to the village meeting instead of giving in to her nerves over Rob. Maybe.