Chapter Thirty-Six

They sat on either side of the taxi, not speaking, not touching. He'd let go of her hand when he helped her into the car and hadn't made a move to take it back. The journey lasted less than five minutes, but the whole time Libby stared out of the window, not daring to look at him. What could she say if she did? Why? It was the only word rattling around in her head. Why, why, why? Why be so nice and then so cold?

By the time, the taxi pulled into the Square, she wished they could drive for another five minutes, for another hour. What was Patrick expecting? A shag? Oh god, why did she say the fucking in the hallway wisecrack. As if she would. The taxi, with its vanilla air freshener, stifled her and her head swam from the wine she'd drunk. The second the car stopped, she threw open the door, sucking in a massive lungful of air.

Go home.

'Come on,' Patrick said, nodding towards his house. 'I've got a surprise to show you.'

'I'm not sure-' She glanced at Maggie's cottage, needing the security of familiar surroundings.

'It's fine.' He took her hand. 'It's a nice surprise.'

'Why?'

He glanced around the empty square. 'Why is it a nice surprise?'

'No, why did you get me to see Jane? You were waiting for me, weren't you?'

'Can we go inside?' His fingers linked with hers again, his thumb brushing the back of her hand.

'But you were, weren't you? Were you at the coffee shop?'

He nodded.

'Why?' She stared into those perfectly non-brown eyes. Did he really care? If he kissed her now, showed her that he cared, she could forget about London. She could settle here, she really could.

Kiss me.

He didn't. Instead, he tugged the shawl. The cold, winter air, ripped at her skin, but she didn't shiver. Instead, she held her breath as Patrick looked her over. He didn't share Robbie's blatant desire to bend her over the sofa. No, Patrick looked her over with awe, as if he'd never seen a girl in a dress before.

Finally, a huge smile took over his face. 'I was there because you always smell of roses and sweet peas.'

She laughed. 'I smell of what?'

'Come on, princess, I have something to show you.' Still clutching her hand, he led her unprotesting to his front door.

Her heart hammered in her chest, surely loud enough for him to hear, as he unlocked the door. This was it. What would he do, talk first or fuck her up against the wall? Neither suggestion would get a complaint from her. Okay, he hadn't said he cared, but he did, didn't he? Actually, maybe they'd be better talking afterwards, she wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything other than shagging him. No, she should play hard to get, earn some respect.

'What's the surprise?' she asked.

'A cute little redhead I've had my eye on.'

Excuse me? Well, that ruled out the hallway idea, but trusting him to be joking, she followed him down the corridor to a closed door. A strange whimpering came from the other side.

'You keep a cute little redhead locked in the kitchen? Should I run away, screaming for my life?'

He smile grew as he opened the door and a bundle of brown and white fur scurried around his feet, its tail a wagging blur.

'Ohmigod, you've got a puppy.'

'This is Isla.' He kissed the Springer Spaniel's head before sending her off to say hello to Libby. 'And she's a very clever girl who hasn't weed everywhere. Well done, Isles.'

Still smiling, Libby knelt on the kitchen floor showering the puppy with love while Patrick put the kettle on. Was Isla the dog Patrick so desperately wanted when he was eleven?

'How old is she?'

'Twelve weeks. She's the runt no one wanted because she has odd ears.'

Libby examined them. One was almost half the size of the other. 'She's adorable.'

'Want to see her party trick? She's better at spinning around than you.' He held Isla's tail near her mouth and they both laughed watching her whizz in circles trying to catch it. 'She's why I was so late tonight. I didn't want to leave her on her own for too long.'

'And there's me thinking you didn't like mangy mongrels.'

'Of course I do. Not that she's mangy.'

Libby sat on the slate-tiled floor, laughing as Isla scampered over her legs and turned the hold-ups into a mass of snags and tiny ladders.

'Thank you, Isla. Now I look like a St Trinian's sixth former. It's a great look but I was going for classy tonight.' She kissed the beautiful puppy. 'If it's not the cats and dogs you hate, why don't you like Monday afternoons?'

He pottered around, shedding his jacket, opening a fresh pack of coffee, spooning it into a cafetiere. Notably, he didn't answer her question.

'You'll never be happy,' she said, throwing his words back at him, 'if you don't tell people about yourself.'

He sucked in one cheek, before shaking his head in defeat. 'I prefer dealing with the large animals. The farmers and horse owners around here are a pretty decent bunch, but at the Haverton surgery the people are... Well, the cats and dogs aren't always the best cared for, mostly through ignorance, but I hate it.'

He picked up Isla, laughing as he avoided her doggy kisses and Libby's walls tumbled. Patrick had the tall, dark and handsome boxes firmly ticked, and although the speed he completed his A to Z appalled her, he wasn't an indulgent egotist, not really. He adored animals and he'd gone out of his way to rebuild her life. He had to be her Somebody.

The kettle boiled, its click bringing her to reality. She had to stop thinking about romantic outcomes; she had to stay focused. With the cafeti\u00e8re filled, Patrick grabbed two mugs, a carton of milk and sat on the floor beside her, their backs against the wall. Isla curled up on his knee.

'Is this how you pull all the girls? Lure them in with a puppy then have coffee on the kitchen floor?'

'This would be a first.'

They weren't even flirting. They were beyond it. There was no doubt that they'd end up in bed. It's what happened before Libby wasn't sure of.

'Do you want to get that apology out of the way?' she asked.

He stroked Isla, before taking a deep breath. 'Okay, sod it. I'm sorry for the hot and cold. I'm sorry for walking out of the pub and I'm sorry for not talking to you when you came to say thank you. That was bloody rude. And Halloween? Unbelievably sorry.'

'I'll forgive you.' She struggled not to grin.

'But I'm not sorry for kissing you, ever.'

'Are you some schizo stalker?'

'No.' He laughed, cringing. 'But I'll admit it's kind of weird behaviour.'

She nodded. 'So why?'

'Did I kiss you?' He rested his head against the wall, smiling towards the ceiling. 'Because you looked too cute not to.'

She elbowed him. 'You know what I mean.'

Denying her an answer, he pushed the plunger then poured the coffee into two mugs. He handed the first to her.

'A real cup. Not that yours is as bad as Lisa's.'

Libby swatted his arm. 'If I have coffee now I'll be awake half the night.'

He didn't hide his smile. 'That's the plan.'

Libby blushed redder than Isla's wonky ears. 'You're not getting off that easily. Why?'

'After the Miss Haverton story in the paper, Mum and Dad sent me to Spain. I had to disappear for a couple of months and when I came back there was to be no more trouble. I'm on a year's probation, six months left to go.'

'Okay.'

'There are ground rules. No more drinking on a school night-'

'That explains the whisky being against the rules.'

'No hard drugs, including random drugs tests-'

'Oh my god, and there's me, waltzing in, tempting you to come to party where there's more coke being inhaled than oxygen.'

He laughed and gently nudged her. 'Tempting me. You certainly did that.'

'I'm glad you kicked me out.' No wonder he'd been so cross. 'Sorry, sorry, sorry.'

'Don't be.'

'So I get why you didn't want to come to the party, but why avoid me and not talk to me? And why say you can't be a distraction?' She didn't like the deep breath he took, or the ever lengthening pause. 'Patrick?'

'Because I've been a fucking awful son for the last couple of years and I want to make it up to my mum and dad.' He sipped his coffee. 'The other rules are no more scandals and no more newspaper articles.'

Exactly what I've become. Libby stared at the ceiling. I'm a newspaper scandal waiting to happen. I need to stand up and walk out.

'You're already thinking about leaving, aren't you?'

She nodded, still unable to look at him.

'But don't.'

'There's a thousand pound bounty on our heads.'

'I know.'

She picked at one of the snags in her holdups, making it ladder. Why had she slept with Andy? Why had she had an affair with Robbie? This was her fault. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

'Look, Libs, I've tried to stay away from you, but I think I've proved, I can't.'

'What are you going to do?' she asked.

He sipped his coffee. 'I have no idea. Do we have to worry about it now?'

Hot Patrick. This was Hot Patrick. Would he be cold again tomorrow? Surely not, not after tonight. She picked at another snag, making it run all the way down her leg.

'I've spent the last seven days vowing not to get dragged into you again,' she said.

'Really? Who were you wearing this dress for?'

She couldn't help her blushes. 'It's just a dress.'

'That's not just a dress.' He picked at one of the snags and laughed as it laddered all the way down to her ankle.

'Why did you even turn up tonight? No CSI on TV?'

'I knew you'd be there in a killer dress.'

'You know you can't lie to me.'

'I knew you'd be there in a killer dress and a bad mood, I couldn't resist that.' He toyed with another snag, but slowly, making the contact last longer. 'I wanted to prove I could behave in black tie, but I wouldn't have stayed an hour if you hadn't been there. Even if you were sulking and pretending you hate me.'

'I don't hate you.'

His hand rested on her knee. 'I've missed you.'

He was prepared to risk his parents' disapproval for her, to put his reasons to one side for her. He was her Somebody. He had to be. She put her half-drunk coffee down, her heart thumping as she leaned up to kiss him. Her lips had barely touched his when Isla growled.

Patrick laughed softly before reprimanding Isla, sending her to her basket. 'Think she's jealous?'

Libby smiled at the puppy. 'I was here first, sweetheart.'

Okay, if this was happening, it wasn't happening on the kitchen floor. Libby stood up, not missing Patrick's frown at the laddered holdups.

'You don't like the St Trinian's look?'

He shook his head.

'You prefer angelic don't you?'

When he nodded, she put a foot on the dining chair next to him and peeled off one of the hold ups. He raised his eyebrows and as she switched legs, his smile grew. Slowly, she slid the second stocking down and he stood, running his hand up her leg.

'Do you think it's too early to tell you I'm in love your perfect legs?' he asked.

Libby laughed, unable to stop gazing at his fabulous lips - utterly kissable and just a few inches from hers. She tipped her head up. No growling puppy would stop her this time. The kiss in the garden, the night Baxter died, had been full of nerves on both sides but showed how quickly things would hot up. There were no nerves this time.

She wound her arms around his neck as he pulled her closer, one hand toying with her hair, just like he had over dinner. An involuntary shiver ran through her body as his hand brushed her bare shoulders.

'We still should've done this on Halloween,' she said.

Patrick tried to smile mid-kiss. 'Are you ever going to let me forget that?'

She shook her head and he paused, pushing her fringe out of her eyes. With their bodies so close, she could feel his heart beating, or was it hers? His breathing was as erratic as her own and this time, when he kissed her, his tongue gently toyed with hers. Play hard to get? Not a chance.

Without taking his lips from hers, he guided her out of the kitchen and they staggered through to the living room. The light from the fire in the wood burner and the fairy lights on the Christmas tree created the perfect setting - as if he'd planned it. Maybe he had. Seeing little point in acting coy, Libby began unbuttoning his shirt, adoring the pleased groan he gave. She eased his shirt off his shoulders and used the pause in kissing to check him out. How many times had she imagined him like this, shirtless and horny as hell? The reality was a lot sexier than her dreams. The mountain biking clearly did one hell of a job keeping him fit. She ran a finger over his perfectly toned abs, gazing up at him with a cheeky smile.

'Enjoying yourself?' he asked, grinning.

'Definitely.'

Her nails raking over his chest and flicking a nipple soon wiped the smile of his face. He flinched and laughed, but flipped her around so she faced the wall and he stood behind her.

'Two can play at that game,' he whispered, his breath tickling her ear.

Libby stood helpless, loving the cool wall against her burning cheek. He pushed her hair to one side and scattered tiny kisses up her spine and neck. Shivers flew down her body as one of his hands snuck around her waist, the other to the zip at her side.

'This dress might look sexy as, but it feels like a cheese grater.'

'Better take it off them.'

His fingers tugged at the zip. It didn't budge.

'What the hell?' He moved back a little, using two hands to check the fastening.

Libby giggled, turning to face him. 'It's vintage. You might have to tug it. Tristan-'

'I don't want to hear about Tristan, thank you.' Patrick scowled before focussing on the zip.

Libby held her arms up, giving him easier access. 'As sweet as your jealousy is-'

'I'm not jealous. He's a wanker who dropped you.'

'Whatever. Tristan always said I was an idiot to waste eighty pounds on a second-hand dress. But you're right. He is a wanker. Well?'

The zip hadn't moved.

Patrick straightened, sucking a nick on his thumb. 'It's stuck.'

'Oh my god, I'm wearing a bloody chastity dress.'

He pushed his curls back with both hands, laughing.

'It's not funny.' She tried the zip herself, trying not to giggle. 'Can't you just rip it off or something?'

He studied the dress for a moment, then ran out of the room. She leant against the wall, close to the warmth of the fire, listening to him rummaging in drawers. They were going to have sex. Would it be in here, or upstairs? It could be on the bloody dining table for all she cared. She crossed her legs. Hurry up.

Oh god, what if he found her flat chest a disappointment and her ugly feet repulsive. He'd slept with that beauty queen and Grace. Both had boobs she could only dream of. She straightened her back as he returned with a pair of scissors, but her butterflies worsened when he stopped and looked her over.

'What?' she whispered, panicking.

Slowly he walked over, taking his time to put another log on the fire, and she stared down at him, trying to breathe. What? He didn't look up, but gently stroked her calf and dropped a kiss behind her knee. Tingles shot up her leg.

'You look incredible,' he said as he stood up. 'We don't... are you sure?'

That I want to have sex, or I want you to cut my dress off?

She nodded.

After taking a deep breath, he carefully cut down the zip. Sequins rained to the floor, but finally, the eighty pound mini-dress fell to her feet, leaving her standing in her purple silk underwear and heels. Libby nervously glanced up at him.

'Before,' he said, 'you looked incredible. Now, you look... beautiful.'

His kiss this time was deep and slow, lacking the urgency of earlier, but god did it increase the pulsing between her legs. She trailed her hands down, planning to unfasten his belt, but he stopped her, smiling as he shook his head. Now who was the spoilsport?

They fell onto the sofa and he lay beside her, propped on one elbow, his other hand drawing lazy patterns over her neck, skimming the top of her bra.

'You do realise this has nearly happened three times before now,' he said, his hand slipping around her back.

'It has not.' She tensed as he deftly removed her bra. Please, don't be disappointed.

His eyes softened. 'Christ, you're perfect.'

She started to disagree, but his thumb trailed around a nipple and her power of speech dissolved.

'The first time was the day we met,' he went on, 'after the ride down to the village. I was tempted to talk you into bed that morning. Probably would've done if you'd have said yes to help getting into the house.'

'You couldn't have talked me into anything.' The tingling radiating from her breast had her arching her back, desperate for more.

'Oh come on, an icepack on your ankle, bit of a massage... would you?'

As if, mister. She shook her head, but he replaced his thumb with his lips, and she closed her eyes, unsure how long she could cope.

'I'll take that as a yes.' His thumb took over again. 'But I'm glad that it wasn't then. The second time was Halloween. You've no idea how much I wanted you to stay. I don't know if I've ever wanted to fuck anyone so much in all my life. Aside from now.'

'You say the sweetest things.' Her leg curled around his, needing to get closer to him.

He swore under his breath before trailing his hand with agonising slowness down her body. 'But you were drunk so I'm glad it didn't happen then.'

Libby couldn't move, she had no control over her own body, only reactions to Patrick's touch. Mindlessly she raked her nails through his hair as he dropped gentle kisses on her stomach and slid the bought-for-the-occasion French knickers down her legs.

'The third time?' she asked, trying to stay focussed.

His fingers drew ever-decreasing circles, moving up the inside of her thigh and she held her breath, the anticipation of what he'd do next making her squirm.

'Your garden,' he said. 'Things would've got out of hand and you know it.'

The circles hit the spot and lightning bolts shot through her body. Instinctively, Libby tried to press her legs together, but his knee blocked hers. He was in control and his lazy smile confirmed it.

'If I hadn't stopped kissing you,' he said, 'it would've happened then.'

She couldn't believe what was happening. Her body was on fire and Patrick was making it happen. Oh god, this had to go a lot further, a lot quicker.

'No, it wouldn't.' She rolled over, ending his torturous games. 'And I stopped kissing you.'

His smile soon vanished when she pressed her naked body against his. She kissed and teased him until he was as breathless as he'd made her, then set to work removing the rest of his clothes, scattering kisses all over his fabulous body. She knelt over him as he fished a condom from his trouser pocket, but when she tried to take it, he shook his head.

'If you do it, this'll be over in no time,' he explained, grinning, and the second it was on, he flipped her onto her back.

'Control freak?'

'For now.' His leg encouraged hers apart. 'You know you'll have to update the A to Z. A vet should definitely outrank a voice coach.'

'There was no voice coach. I wrote it in so you didn't get any ideas.'

He stroked her fringe out of the way, smiling. 'With the amount of jobs you've had, you could fill my entire list.'

'Wow, does that mean I outrank everyone?' Her pleased giggle turned to a sharp breath as he officially took his place on her A-Z list.

He closed his eyes. 'A for Actress.'

'B for Ballerina?' She covered his neck in kisses.

'Of course. C for Clown.'

She bit him.

'Ow...' He smiled and kissed her. 'D for Dancer. E?'

'Estate Agent. Zoe actually fired me.' Libby arched up to him. 'F is Fitness Instructor, Pilates.'

'G's easy. Groom.' He gasped as her nails raked his chest. 'Horse- Jesus, Lib... Horse riding something. I?'

Love you. Why on earth were they going through the alphabet? She could barely remember her name, let alone her employment history. 'Can we use Instructor of Pilates?'

'J?' he asked quietly, his lips almost touching hers.

J is for... just shag me.