Promoted: to Wife and Mother Page 9

  ‘Sorry?’ she said awkwardly, a slight flush staining her cheeks.

  ‘I was just wondering if you knew of anyone who might like a part-time job.’

  ‘I might,’ said Perdita, thinking of Millie, who had been struggling to make ends meet since her divorce. ‘Would the hours be flexible?’

  ‘I don’t see why not, but it would be up to Grace. Get them to contact her if they’re interested.’

  Ed wiped his hands on the tea towel still draped over his shoulder and pulled open a drawer in search of cutlery. ‘Supper’s nearly ready. I’ll just lay the table.’

  ‘Let me do that.’ Perdita pushed back her chair and stood up. ‘I’ve just been sitting here doing nothing,’ she said guiltily.

  ‘You’re a guest. That’s your job,’ said Ed, but he let her come round to take the spoons and forks from him.

  Perdita’s hands brushed his as she reached for the cutlery and a small, sharp thrill jolted through her at the touch so that she drew a breath that was dangerously close to a gasp. His skin was warm and she was acutely aware of how close he was. Afraid that he would read her response in her eyes, she didn’t look at his face but found herself fixing on the rough cotton weave of his shirt, the way one of his buttons was chipped and how his neck rose in a strong column from his casual open collar. She could see the pulse beating in his throat and had a sudden, shocking impulse to press her lips to it.

  Aghast at herself, Perdita turned sharply away, fumbling with the cutlery in her hands. Her heart was thumping so hard that she was finding it hard to breathe.

  Ed evidently hadn’t even registered that brief graze of their hands, or if he had it certainly hadn’t bothered him. He had found some mats and was slinging them carelessly around the table.

  ‘I usually insist that one of the kids lays the table,’ he said as Perdita concentrated fiercely on setting a spoon and fork on either side of each mat, ‘but as it tends to lead to a fight about whose turn it is and why I treat them as slaves I thought I’d spare you the aggro tonight. Sometimes it’s easier just to do it yourself.’

  Although her head was bent, Perdita could see his hands as he set everything else on the table. They were strong and square and capable, and every time they caught at the corner of her vision she felt hollow. God, she must pull herself together!

  ‘This music is lovely,’ she croaked, hating the breathless crack in her voice. ‘What is it? Bach?’

  ‘That’s right.’ She felt him glance at her. ‘Do you like classical music?’

  ‘I like it when I hear it, but I don’t know anything about it at all. My father used to say I was a complete philistine.’

  ‘That’s what I say about Cassie, so perhaps there’s hope for her yet.’

  ‘There are masses of classical concerts in Ellsborough and I always say I’ll go, but of course I never get round to it.’

  Perdita could feel herself babbling and wished she had something else to do with her hands. There were only so many times one could straighten a fork. She sat back down instead and picked up her wine. ‘I do enjoy it when I listen to it like now, though.’

  ‘Well, make the most of it as it will probably end up being turned off when the kids come down,’ said Ed wryly. He went to the door and bellowed, ‘Supper’s ready!’ up the stairs.

  ‘I’m surprised,’ said Perdita, who had recovered a little. ‘I’d have had you down as a man who listened to what he wanted in his own house.’

  ‘I was before I came up against the immovable will of a teenager,’ Ed said with grim humour. ‘I could insist, I suppose, but there are so many fights with adolescents in the house that you end up choosing the ones you think are really important and letting all the others go.’

  Sure enough, when Cassie clattered down the stairs the first thing she did as she swirled into the kitchen was to head for the CD player. ‘Oh, Dad, not this boring old stuff again,’ she said, ejecting the CD. ‘You are so sad!’

  ‘Perdita was enjoying that,’ Ed pointed out mildly, but Cassie only tossed her head.

  ‘She was probably just saying that to be polite. Can I put on some real music?’

  ‘No,’ said Ed as he drained the spaghetti. ‘It’s Bach or nothing.’

  Rolling her eyes, Cassie plonked herself down next to Perdita as Tom drifted into the room, followed by Lauren, who was a slighter, quieter version of her big sister.

  ‘I can’t do my stupid French homework,’ she complained, slumping into a chair when she had been introduced to Perdita. ‘I hate my teacher here. Everybody does.’

  ‘Be nice to Perdita and maybe she’ll help you afterwards,’ said Ed. ‘She speaks French.’

  The three of them turned to look at her as if she had sprouted three heads. ‘I spent a year working in Paris,’ Perdita excused herself.

  She expected Cassie to sneer at this but instead she seemed to be impressed and talked animatedly about a school trip to Paris the previous year. ‘I wanted Dad to take us to France this summer but he wouldn’t,’ she told Perdita.

  ‘I took you to France a couple of years ago and you complained the whole time,’ said Ed mildly as he handed out plates of spaghetti.

  ‘That’s because you hired a stupid house out in the middle of the country and made us walk everywhere and Lauren kept throwing up in our bedroom.’

  ‘Only once,’ protested Lauren.

  ‘It was at least three times!’

  ‘It wasn’t!’

  In no time at all the minor squabble had degenerated into a bitter argument about who had been sick when, where and with what degree of inconvenience to the rest of the family.

  ‘Do we have to have this discussion when we’re eating?’ Ed demanded at last and forcibly changed the conversation by asking Perdita about her time in France.

  ‘Well, I did have food poisoning once,’ she said, and the girls laughed when Ed pretended to glower.

  ‘I’ve heard enough about throwing up this evening, thank you!’

  It was just the evening Perdita needed, and she was amazed at how quickly she felt at home with Ed’s children. Tom was quieter than the girls, but more than capable of holding his own. Cassie was clearly the dominant personality, but when she forgot her pose of tortured teenager she could be very funny. She and Lauren chattered engagingly about their friends and school, which they claimed to loathe in spite of the fact that they appeared to have settled in with remarkable ease. They were already vilifying their poor teachers as if they had known them for years.

  Perdita countered with some of the more scurrilous stories from her own school days in Ellsborough, and they were soon comparing their experiences of being young, particularly the trials of having a strict parent always wanting to know where you were going, what you were doing and, more importantly, who you were doing it with.

  ‘It was like living with the FBI,’ Perdita remembered and, sensing an ally, Cassie shot her father a look.

  ‘I know exactly what you mean,’ she said meaningfully.

  ‘You know, you’re supposed to be on my side,’ Ed complained to Perdita with a grin. ‘I only invited you because I thought you were a responsible adult!’

  By the time she time left, Perdita was feeling brighter and more relaxed than she had done for a long time. The tension that had gripped her when she’d left her mother’s house had been swept away by an evening of animated conversation. Supper had been simple but tasty, and although spaghetti wasn’t the easiest of dishes to eat elegantly there was something incredibly comforting about sitting around a kitchen table.

  Cassie and Tom were made to clear away while Lauren went to get her French homework. Ed watched, resigned, as Perdita did it all for her. Lauren was absolutely delighted to discover that Perdita didn’t intend to explain everything to her, but simply wrote out the answers for her to copy.

  ‘I think the idea is that you try and help them to understand,’ he tried to point out, but Perdita made a face.

  ‘That’s the teacher’s job. I’m
sure Lauren would much rather I just did it for her.’

  Lauren nodded eagerly. ‘And now I’ve done my homework, I can go and watch television!’

  ‘Can Perdita come over when I’m doing my French homework?’ asked Cassie resentfully as a gloating Lauren gathered up her books and skipped out. ‘That’s so not fair! Lauren didn’t have to do anything!’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Perdita to Ed when Cassie had grumbled off. ‘Did I cause trouble?’

  He laughed. ‘Cassie’s just jealous. She hates not being the centre of attention.’

  ‘Now, I wonder…’ Perdita put a finger to her cheek and pretended to think deeply. ‘Is it possible that Cassie is a bit of a fellow peacock?’

  ‘Oh, there’s no doubt about that!’

  ‘Poor you, not only having to work with a peacock, but actually living with one too,’ she teased and Ed grinned.

  ‘It’s certainly challenging…but then peacocks are always worth the extra effort!’

  It was at that point that Perdita made the mistake-the big mistake-of looking into his eyes and the light-hearted banter evaporated into a sizzling pause.

  Tom had slouched off earlier, and it was only now that she suddenly realised that she was alone with Ed again. While the other three had been there it had been possible to forget that mad moment of awareness when she had been laying the table. She had been able to pretend that her hand wasn’t tingling at all where her skin had grazed his, that the sight of his mouth didn’t make her feel boneless and that when she looked at his hands her stomach didn’t disappear into a dizzy void.

  But now all that was back with a vengeance. Perdita’s eyes skittered frantically away from his and around the room. ‘Goodness, look at the time!’ she said on a gasp, and her chair scraped across the tiles as she pushed it back with a sense of desperation. ‘I must go.’

  This wouldn’t do, she told herself, scrabbling for control. There was no way she was going to get hung up on Ed. That would be stupid. She had been through this so many times. Remember what it was like with Nick, she reminded herself. Remember how hurt you were? Remember how you vowed that you would never put yourself in that situation again?

  And yet here she was, her throat closed with desire at the mere thought of touching Ed, at the thought of what it would be like to lean against all that solid strength and rest her face against his throat. She had to put it out of her mind right now.

  Yes, now.

  Perdita made herself breathe slowly as Ed escorted her out to her car. She could do this. Mind over matter. And her mind was telling her that falling even a little bit in love with Ed was out of the question.

  There was absolutely no reason why she shouldn’t be a friend to him and his children, but anything more…? No, no, no.

  ‘Thank you so much,’ she said, carefully polite. ‘I really enjoyed myself.’

  ‘It was a pleasure,’ said Ed. ‘I’m the one who should thank you for coming. We don’t really know anyone here yet, and it’s nice for the kids to have some company other than their boring old dad!’

  ‘Why don’t you come round to lunch one Sunday?’ said Perdita on an impulse. It must be quite lonely for him in Ellsborough, and she had decided to be a friend, hadn’t she? ‘I’ll invite some friends, make it a party,’ she added, just in case he thought she was trying to set up a date. ‘Bring the kids too. My best friend has teenage children, and they can always sulk together.’

  Ed looked pleased. ‘That sounds great. Thank you.’

  ‘Well…goodnight.’ Perdita hesitated, fiddling with the car keys in her hand. The natural thing now would be to kiss him on the cheek, the way she wouldn’t hesitate to do with any other friend. But Ed wasn’t any other friend, and the situation suddenly seemed fraught with difficulty.

  But what could she do? It wasn’t a business meeting so she could hardly offer to shake hands, but getting into the car without a gesture of farewell would seem all wrong.

  There was a pause, which she guessed Ed found as awkward as she did, for the moment that she decided to risk a quick brush of the cheeks he leant forward stiffly at the same time. There wouldn’t have been a problem if one of them had kept their head still and let the other do the kissing, but as it was they made a complete botch of it and, instead of a demure brush of the cheeks, their lips collided and both instantly recoiled as if stung.

  ‘Sorry!’

  ‘Sorry…my fault.’

  For an excruciating moment Perdita couldn’t think of anything to say, but she was burningly aware of her mouth where it had touched his. Her whole body seemed to be jangling, and she was very glad of the dim light that hid the colour flooding her cheeks. It was silly to get in such a state about what wasn’t even a kiss. It had been an accident, no more than that.

  ‘The French are so much better at this kind of thing,’ she said feebly, trying to make a joke out of it. ‘You always know how many kisses you’re going to get and which side goes first.’

  Ed smiled. ‘I can’t turn myself into a Frenchman, unfortunately, but let’s try again anyway.’ Stepping closer, he bent his head and Perdita held hers very still as he dropped a kiss on her cheek, very close to the edge of her mouth.

  ‘Goodnight, Perdita.’

  Somehow Perdita got herself into her car, started the engine and fumbled with her seat belt. It took ages to get the car into gear, but at last she was reversing out of the drive, raising a hand in farewell and driving to the end of the road, where she had to stop and wait until her hands had stopped shaking enough to grip the steering wheel properly.

  Ed had waited until she was out of sight, but he would be back in that warm, slightly chaotic house by now, closing the door behind him, shutting the dark night-and her-out.

  It was stupid to feel excluded. Stupid to wish that she could have stayed. Stupid to envy Ed his family when she had never particularly wanted children of her own. Which was just as well now that she was forty, Perdita reminded herself.

  Since Nick’s rejection, she had accepted that she was probably going to grow old on her own, and she had told herself that there were much worse fates-being unhappily married but afraid to be on her own, for one-and usually she was more than happy to look on the bright side of being single and independent.

  So there was no reason at all to suddenly start feeling lonely because she had said that she had to leave, and that Ed Merrick had let her go, closing his front door after her and leaving her out in the cold.

  But he had kissed her…Perdita couldn’t get the feel of it out of her mind. It hadn’t been a real kiss, of course, just a brief graze of her cheek. Not what you’d call a kiss.

  His lips had been warm and firm and sure, though, and she had smelt clean laundry, clean male skin, so close that she was dizzy with it. Had it been deliberate, that kiss so close to her mouth? It would have taken so little for her to turn her head, for their lips to meet.

  What would that have been like? How would she have felt to let herself lean into him, to part her lips and kiss him back? To slide her arms around his back and feel his warm, solid strength? To be held tightly against him?

  It wouldn’t have been like being just good friends, now, would it? Perdita’s inner voice, the uncomfortably sarcastic one, pointed out, and she sighed as she pulled up outside her flat in a converted warehouse overlooking the river. It was no good, she was going to have to pull herself together about this.

  She wasn’t quite sure what signals Ed was giving off. Yes, he had indicated that he was ready to move on after his wife’s death, and yes, he seemed to like her, and that kiss might have been deliberate, but it could just have easily been an affectionate gesture to someone he considered a friend.

  And that was how she ought to take it. Because, even if he also had been wondering what a proper kiss would have been like, even if he had hoped that she would smile and turn her face instead of standing rigidly, it wouldn’t have taken much for him to realise what a bad idea it would have been. They had to work together, afte
r all. Much better for him to meet someone outside the office.

  Someone who hadn’t already discovered to her cost that falling in love with a father meant finding yourself a very long way down his list of priorities.

  She would be a friend and nothing more, Perdita decided yet again and, just to prove it, she would invite Millie to meet Ed. They were bound to get on. Millie had teenagers herself and understood the difficulties of being a single parent. And she was a lovely person, warm, friendly and motherly, completely the opposite of Perdita herself, with her ‘sharp edges’.

  Yes, she would introduce him to Millie, and she would invite Grace as well. He obviously liked her too. Grace didn’t have children, but she was widowed, so they would understand each other. Millie and Grace would both be perfect partners for Ed so, by inviting them, Perdita would make it clear that she had no interest in him herself. And, so as not to be too obvious about her matchmaking, she would invite another couple who were also struggling with teenagers, and Rick, who was gay, and excellent company. At least Ed wouldn’t feel overwhelmed by women then.

  Not that Perdita could imagine Ed feeling overwhelmed by anything. He was too self-contained for that.

  In the end, they were to be a party of fifteen. It was a squeeze in Perdita’s flat, but she pushed two tables together and spread over a huge cloth to make it look festive. The flat looked wonderful with the early October light pouring in and the sliding doors open on to the balcony.

  It was three weeks since she had shared spaghetti bolognaise with Ed and his family, and Perdita had been careful not to seem too eager about seeing him again. Because she was just going to be a friend, right?

  Once she had bumped into him when she’d parked in her mother’s drive just as he was getting out of his car. Ed had suggested that it might be a good opportunity to introduce him to her mother, and she had done that, which had gone quite well. Otherwise, Perdita had kept contact to work. She was scrupulous about being professional and only talked to him about business, although none of it had helped shake the memory of that brief, impersonal kiss on her cheek.