Billionaire Bosses Collection. Кэрол Мортимер
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seem to understand is the word no,’ she snapped. ‘I’ll say it as often as I have to.’
‘But you don’t mean it,’ he protested. ‘Come on, just one little kiss to seal our bargain.’
Before she could stop him, he’d pulled her close and brushed her lips with his own. Exerting all her strength, she wrenched free.
‘Try that again and I’ll slap you so hard you’ll bounce into next week,’ she said breathlessly.
What he might have done then she never found out, for a cough from the shadows made them both turn. Roscoe was standing there.
‘I came to fetch you, Vanlen,’ he said. ‘There’s a big deal going on and they want you to be part of it.’
‘On my way,’ the man replied and vanished without a backward glance at Pippa. The scene between them might never have happened.
‘Thank you,’ she said coolly. ‘He was becoming a bore.’
He made a wryly humorous face. ‘Don’t tell me I arrived in time to save a damsel in distress?’
‘Certainly not. Another moment and I’d have tossed him off the balcony, so you might say you spoilt my fun.’
‘My apologies.’
The feel of Vanlen’s mouth was still on hers, filling her with disgust and making her rub her mouth hard with tissues.
‘Yuck! ‘ she said.
‘It’s a pity he affects you like that. You could have been queen of London.’
‘Don’t you start. Did you hear what he said about you?’
‘Investigation? Sure. We each know enough to confront the other. Pippa, are you all right? ‘
She was still rubbing her mouth, and he caught himself up at once.
‘No, of course you’re not all right. Stupid of me. Don’t go at it so hard, you’ll hurt yourself.’
‘I can’t help it. He’s disgusting.’
‘Here, let me.’ Taking a clean handkerchief from his pocket, he began to rub gently.
‘It’s no use,’ she sighed. ‘I can still feel him. Perhaps another glass of champagne would wipe him away.’
‘I know something better,’ he said softly and laid his mouth against hers.
It was over in a second. His lips touched hers for a brief moment, just long enough to obliterate Vanlen, then they were gone.
Through the dim light, he saw the wild astonishment in her eyes and could just make out her lips shaping his name.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said stiffly. ‘I thought it might help.’
‘I—’
‘Come on.’ Taking her hand firmly, he led her back to where the crowd was beginning to disperse.
David was there, looking around, brightening when he saw her. ‘Ready to go?’ he asked cheerfully.
‘Yes…yes…’
‘I think she’s tired,’ Roscoe said. ‘The sooner she goes home, the better. Excuse me.’
He was gone.
In the car home Pippa pretended to be asleep so that she could avoid talking. But later, when she got into bed, she lay awake all night, staring into the darkness, trying to see what could not be seen and understand what could not be understood.
The following evening she went to have a family dinner at her beloved grandparents’ house on Crimea Street, and where she herself had lived for the last two years of their lives. These days Frank, his wife and children, lived there, with her other brother, Brian, just down the street. Now they returned her car with an air of triumph at having made it usable again.
Pippa hadn’t been back to the old home much recently, and for a while she could enjoy the company of her parents, nephews and nieces, most of whom lived no more than two streets away.
With so many children, it was inevitable that the Christmas decorations should go up early.
‘I keep telling them that it’s still too soon,’ Brian’s wife, Ruth, said in laughing despair. ‘But you might as well talk to the moon. As far as they’re concerned, it’s Christmas already. Hold that paper chain, would you?’
Pippa smiled mechanically. It was true, as David had suggested, that she had her own reasons for shying away from Christmas—for her, it had been a time of heartbreak. But this was no time to inflict her feelings on her family, so she spent a conventional evening climbing a stepladder and hanging up tinsel.
There was a moment of excitement when a box was brought down from the attic. Dust rose as it was unpacked, but the contents were disappointing.
‘A couple of tatty scarves,’ Ruth said disparagingly. ‘Gloves. Some old books. Let’s throw them out.’
‘No, give them to me,’ Pippa said quickly. She’d recognised the gloves as a pair Dee had worn, and it would be nice to keep them as a memento.
She wandered through the house, glancing into the bedroom where they had slept together until the end. Pippa’s mother Lilian crept in behind her and surveyed the double bed, which was still the same one where the old people had embraced each other as they’d drifted contentedly to the end of the road.
‘They were very happy together,’ she sighed. ‘And yet I can never see this room without feeling sad.’
‘I came in one morning to find that Gran had died in the night,’ Pippa remembered, ‘and Grandma was holding him. It wasn’t very long after they took that trip to Brighton, the honeymoon they never had.’
‘And they wouldn’t have had even that if you hadn’t taken them,’ Lilian recalled. ‘They told me it was the last thing that made everything perfect. Afterwards, they just slipped away.’
‘And that was what they both wanted,’ Pippa said. ‘Even missing them terribly, I couldn’t be unhappy for them. All they cared about was being together, and now they always will be.’
‘And one day that’s what you’ll have,’ Lilian said, regarding her tenderly. ‘Just be patient.’
‘Honestly, Mum, I don’t think like that any more. You start off telling yourself, “Never mind, there’s always next time”. But there isn’t really. There won’t be a next time for me, and it’s better if I face that now.’
‘Oh, darling, don’t say that,’ Lilian protested, almost tearful. ‘You can’t live your life without love.’
‘Why not? I have a great time, a successful job, a good social life—’
‘Oh, yes, every man falls at your feet in the first ten minutes,’ Lilian said with motherly disapproval.
‘Not quite every man,’ Pippa murmured.
‘Good. I’m glad some of them make you think.’
‘Mum, please stop. I did my thinking years ago when a certain person did his vanishing act. That’s it. The man who can change my mind hasn’t been born.’
‘You’re only talking like this because you’re always depressed at Christmas, but I just know that one day someone will make your heart beat faster.’
‘You mean like Dad does with you?’ Pippa asked mischievously.
‘I admit your father’s no romantic hero, but he’s a decent man with a sweet temper. If he’d only stop breeding ferrets I’d have no complaints.’
‘Is someone talking about me?’ came a voice from the stairs as Pippa’s plump, balding father appeared.
In the laughter that followed, the subject was allowed