Just Desserts. Ashley Lister
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to be disappointed. She supposed, in some ways, that it would be a kindness to introduce a date to disappointment so early on in a relationship. It saved making them wait until the word ‘love’ had been bandied around before teaching them that disappointment could have the power to crush a person’s heart or tear it, still beating, from their chest.
She shook her head, tousling the loose curls into shape, before heading down the stairs. Daryl and Beatrice had already retired to the basement so Trudy busied herself with working on an article about carrot cakes. She was just beginning to enjoy the writing when a polite fist knocked on the door.
She saved the document, closed the laptop and went out to greet him.
Mark turned out to be attractive and fun. He had dark hair and blue eyes and a rugby player’s nose. He recognised Trudy from a picture that Daryl had shared. Although it was obvious Daryl had mentioned Trudy’s role as a judge on Master Baker it was clear that he had never seen the show. Over dinner, at an unassuming town centre bistro called the Chekov, he asked her briefly about the programme and her investment in cookery. But mainly he talked about his work. He made her laugh with stories about some of the funnier things that had occurred in the A&E ward where he was currently stationed and Trudy felt a surge of gratitude to Daryl for organising such a perfect date.
The bistro was a clean family-run establishment. The shabby-chic furnishings were a mixture of tired aquamarine colours and weary woodwork that could have looked scruffy but somehow looked charming. Studying Mark’s jeans and jacket combination, as well as his polished smile and his untidy hair, Trudy thought she could say the same for him: scruffy but somehow charming.
Trudy ordered a stroganoff and she was pleased with its delightful blend of soured cream and beefiness that worked with the mushrooms and onions. When they were eating desserts, she sampled a portion of his sirniki, which had been served with blueberries and fresh cream. The pancake was golden and crisp on the outside but fluffy and deceptively insubstantial inside.
Trudy vowed to visit the Chekov again.
The only thing that cast a shadow on the evening was when she caught an unwanted glimpse of Donny. They had a window seat that overlooked the night. Trudy was staring out into the darkness of the rain-slicked roads and the neon colour of the passing traffic. Mark had left her alone for a moment whilst he visited the men’s room and Trudy was entertaining herself by looking at the animated movement of the night.
At first she didn’t notice the tall, handsome figure staring in at her.
When she finally registered the brooding intensity of his frown she recoiled.
It was Donny, glaring at her. He glowered through the window. His upper lip was curled with contempt. He shook his head as though unable to believe what he was seeing. She tried to tear her gaze away but he seemed to be holding her under some sort of mesmerism.
She’d heard people talk about rabbits being caught in the stare of oncoming headlights. Trudy had never appreciated what that meant before but now she thought she did.
When Mark returned, Donny stepped back into the shadows and then disappeared into the night. Mark asked if she was OK and said she looked pale. Trudy shook her head and pushed Donny from her thoughts. She’d had enough of him spoiling things that were good in her life. She was damned if she would let the coincidence of him walking past the Chekov be another reason to spoil something she was enjoying.
‘You’re sure you’re OK?’ he pressed.
She promised that she was and then declined the invitation to share a bottle of wine. It was enough to be in the company of someone who was attractive and attentive. She didn’t want to run the risk of drinking herself into another mistake so soon after the last one.
Once they’d talked about their shared interpretations of university experiences the conversation moved on to tastes in music, books and films. He was a rock aficionado and suggested a handful of tracks she could use to extend the musical accompaniment she had for her morning workout routine. Trudy downloaded the tracks and added them to her playlist whilst they sat in the bistro.
The tears came out of nowhere.
They were walking back to Eldorado through the town centre. They had just passed Melville’s and the radio station, when a wave of sadness rippled through her. It struck her that Mark would be an easy man to fall in love with. He was good, handsome and seemed kind. He was interesting and witty and considerate and…
…and he wasn’t Bill.
‘Shit,’ Mark gasped when he saw she was crying. He had an arm around her waist and a hand on her shoulder. ‘Is this something I’ve said or done? Or are you just overwhelmed by how wonderful I am?’
The words surprised a laugh from her throat. Combined with the tears she figured the noise would be horrific enough to give most people nightmares.
‘Not only am I good-looking and fun to be with but also, did I mention, I’m a doctor?’
She nodded and laughed again. This time her amusement sounded softer.
‘I think you did mention that once or twice.’
When he touched her elbow she thought his concern seemed genuine and sympathetic.
‘Let’s get you home,’ he suggested. ‘You’ve clearly had a long day and you need some rest.’
She wanted to protest but he spoke with commanding authority. He hailed a passing taxi, took her to the front door of Eldorado and then kissed her chastely on the cheek.
‘Will you call me when you feel a little less vulnerable?’
‘I don’t have your number,’ she told him.
‘Daryl has my number,’ he reminded her. ‘Now get yourself off to bed and get rested and call me if you fancy doing something like this again.’
She thanked him and promised him she would call.
Daryl and Beatrice either had gone out or were asleep in their basement room. Trudy took another sullen stab at the article she was writing about carrot cake but her enthusiasm for the subject had declined after the embarrassment of crying in front of Mark. She was in the process of pouring herself a warm milky drink when her mobile received a text message. She could see it came from Donny. She opened it knowing it would not be pleasant.
You’re dating another bloke already? Fuck me, Gertrude. You seem to be collecting more DNA samples than a CSI team.
An hour later she was back in his arms.
There was no sensation to compare with the thrill of naked skin touching naked skin. When she stood in his embrace, she felt the perfect balance of being protected and being vulnerable.
Her breasts were pressed against his chest. The stiffness of her nipples jutted hard against his pectoral muscles. His strong hands, the fingers as sensitive as a surgeon’s, the palms callused and hard, held her tight against him.
Because he was taller she could feel the stirring of his arousal against her belly. He was long to begin with. As excitement flooded through him, the warm flesh pressing on her bare stomach grew longer.
She had wanted him before.
Now, she needed him.
Their kiss was a sweet exchange of exploration and excitement. He made no demands on her flesh. He didn’t tease her lips with his teeth. He didn’t plunder her mouth with his tongue. It was one of those intimacies she had experienced so rarely. It was a kiss of gentle affection.
Her heartbeat raced.
The muscles inside her sex thrilled with a liquid rush of delight. In that moment she knew, whatever he asked of her, she would be happy to endure.
He broke the kiss to guide her on to