The Boss's Virgin(17)

'You're moving too fast,' she guessed aloud without real conviction,  pushing at his shoulders and taking a step back. 'We only met again less  than twelve hours ago and a lot has happened since then. My marriage is  off, I'm leaving my job and selling my home-the last few hours have  been an emotional avalanche. I'm still reeling. The last thing I need is  you trying to force the pace.'                       
       
           



       

He let go of her slowly, frowning. 'Maybe that's it. But I'm afraid  you'll run away again. It's a habit of yours. And you're deceitful,  Pippa. I left you getting ready to have lunch with me earlier today and  what did you do? You ran away here, to Maldon. Why did you do that?  Maybe that's what you're intending to do again. Maybe tomorrow morning  I'll find you've skipped the hotel and gone before I get up for  breakfast'

Soberly, she said, 'I promise I won't. I give you my word.'

He studied her face intently. 'You'll meet me downstairs for breakfast? You swear?'

'I swear. What time?'

'Eight-thirty?'

She nodded. 'Eight-thirty. I'll be there. Then I'm checking out and going home to write letters and make phone calls.'

He moved towards the door. 'Okay, see you at breakfast, then.'

She followed so that she could bolt the door as soon as he had left and Randal looked down at her mockingly.

'Goodnight.' Bending briefly, he dropped a light kiss on the tip of her  nose, then he was gone, and Pippa bolted the door after him. That tiny,  intimate caress left a warm feeling inside her, though, while she was  undressing, taking off her make-up, washing, getting into bed.

There was something special between them; there had been from the  beginning. She had never felt anything like that for anyone else. Oh,  she liked Tom, but ruefully she had to admit that if she had married him  it would have been a disastrous mistake. She would never have loved  him, really loved him.

Switching off her bedside lamp, she lay in the darkness listening to the  slow lap-lap of water on the quayside, an occasional footfall out there  in the damp grey mist. Above her the ancient floors creaked as someone  walked across another bedroom. Pipes hummed as water ran. But otherwise  the hotel was quiet, nobody seemed to be listening to television or  talking, and it didn't take her long to get to sleep.

The room was full of sunlight when she woke up; the mist had obviously  cleared. Slipping out of bed, she parted the curtains to peer out. The  quay bristled with masts; brightly painted little boats moored in rows,  bobbing against each other as the water rose and fell.

She read their names, smiling. The True Love; Scrumpy Joe; Heggarty  Peggarty; Sue-Anne. Some of them had men working on them, unpacking  sails, scrubbing decks, painting, coiling ropes. Along the quay sat men  drinking mugs of tea or coffee. After the grey damp silence of  yesterday, the quay had come alive and was full of people.

Sunshine made you feel happier. Smiling, Pippa walked into the bathroom  and took a shower before getting dressed to go down to breakfast.  Although she had eaten that large dinner last night, she was now hungry  again, perhaps because the sunshine had lifted her spirits and she felt  more positive.

She put on jeans and a bright turquoise sweater, did her make-up, then  quickly packed her case before leaving the room. As she came down the  ancient stairs she saw Randal sitting in a chair below, reading a  newspaper and looking up every so often to check if she was on her way.

'Why are you waiting there? Why not in the dining room?' she asked him as he stood up to greet her.

'To make sure you didn't creep away without breakfast,' he coolly  admitted, flicking a glance over her from head to foot before following  her into the dining room.

'I promised I wouldn't!' A little flush flowed into her face at the way  he had looked at her. He didn't miss a thing, from the peaks of her  breasts inside the sweater to her trim waist and long legs in the tight  jeans. And that look, the glitter of desire in his grey eyes, made her  pulses leap and race.

He shrugged. 'I wasn't entirely sure I could trust you.'

She couldn't honestly resent that; she knew she deserved it.

They were shown to the same table they had occupied last night, and  given menus. 'Tea or coffee?' asked a young waitress. 'White or brown  toast?'

'Coffee,' they both chose.

'And mixed toast?' suggested Pippa. Randal nodded, and the waitress vanished to fill their order.

Breakfast didn't take up much of their time; Pippa just had a bowl of  fresh fruit followed by a boiled egg with toast. Randal had porridge and  a kipper. By nine o'clock they had finished, and left the dining room  together.

Pippa paid her bill and asked for her suitcase to be brought down. While  she was waiting for the porter Randal quietly asked, 'You're going  straight to your cottage now?'                       
       
           



       

'Yes.' She took a deep breath. 'And, please, don't come there too. I have a lot to do and I would rather be alone.'

His face impassive, he turned away. 'I'd better pay my own bill; I still  have to pack. You'll probably leave before I do. Drive safely.'

He hadn't promised he wouldn't come to the cottage. She looked crossly  at his back as he began paying his bill. Then the porter appeared with  her case. With him on her heels, Pippa walked out to the car park and a  few minutes later was driving away.

This morning the marsh looked quite different; with the mist gone the  horizon was bright and the fields shimmered under the sun. She drove  slowly, enjoying the landscape and the sound of birds. A heron flew low,  its grey profile memorable, legs trailing, fixedly gazing down at the  silvery estuary in search of prey.

It was twenty past ten when she arrived home, and as she parked she saw  with a jolt of shock that Tom's car was parked a few feet away. Dismay  filled her. He must be in the cottage; he still had a key. Questions  buzzed inside her-why was he here? At this time of day he should be at  work. What did he want? He had been surprisingly low-key yesterday in  his reaction, but he had had time to think about it. Had he come back to  make an angry scene?

Her teeth gritted. Whether she wanted to or not, she had to face Tom;  she wasn't running away, not any more. She had done too much of that  with Randal. So she lifted her chin and walked towards the front door,  which opened as she approached.

Tom confronted her in his dark city suit, like a grim avenging angel.

'Where have you been?' he asked with belligerence. 'It looks as if  you've been out all night. Your bed wasn't slept in and everything is  spotless.' He paused, then asked tersely, 'I suppose you've been with  him?'

She walked past into the cottage, sighing. 'No, I haven't!' It wasn't  exactly a lie, because Tom was really asking if she had slept with  Randal, and she hadn't had she? 'I don't want a row, Tom. No  inquisition, please. Why are you here?'

'I realised I had to see you to sort things out. We didn't talk properly  yesterday, did we? So I took a day off work.' He followed her into the  kitchen and watched her put on a kettle and start laying out cups and  saucers, put teabags into the teapot.

'I thought we'd said everything, Tom.'

'We were both in shock,' he said roughly. 'Now we've calmed down and  I've had time to think. Look, if you want to stay in your job, you can.  There's no need to feel you have to leave. People have broken off  engagements before. I'm big enough to cope with a few jokes and snide  remarks. You can take time to stay on, look for another job if you still  want to move, but walking out right now you wouldn't have a salary  until you started work elsewhere, and I don't want you to get into  financial difficulties because of me.'

She looked at him incredulously, her green eyes swimming in tears. 'Oh, Tom, that is so sweet!'

He shuffled his feet, very flushed. 'Just common sense. A broken  engagement isn't the end of the world. We'll get over it. So-do you want  to stay on?'

She shook her head. 'Thank you for offering, Tom, but, no, I would  rather leave. You're braver than I am. I don't think I could face those  jokes. I'm sure I shall get another job even if it isn't as well paid.'

'With him?'

Her eyes dropped to the floor. 'No.'

'You used to work for him, you said.'

'Yes, I did.'

With an angry bite, Tom demanded, 'But he didn't offer you a job? What a bastard. When it's his fault you need a job.'

Pippa groaned. 'Oh, Tom. Yes, he did, actually. He said I could have a job with his firm, but I'm not taking up the offer.'

Tom thought about that. 'But you and he are …  getting together?'

'No! I've no intention of …  No!'

He ran a hand through his hair, his face confused. 'I don't understand. I  thought that was the whole point? That you were in love with him, that  that was why you weren't going to marry me? If you aren't going to him,  then why is it off between us?'