Modern Romance October 2018 Books 5-8. Trish Morey
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generosity and by the time and effort he’d put into sourcing this place for them. God only knew how he’d managed to wangle a table but she had seen, in his interactions with the people on the site, that he could charm the birds from the trees.
‘And you were telling me why it is that you care about what people think...’
Rose looked at him. He’d shaved but still managed to look darkly dangerous. There was a stillness about him that made her nerves race and brought a fine prickle of perspiration to her skin. Something about the lazy intensity of his eyes when they focused on her.
‘And how long did your mother go away for?’
‘Two years,’ Rose admitted, flattered at his interest.
‘Two years?’
‘I know in the big scheme of things it doesn’t seem like a lifetime but, believe me, when you’re a kid and you’re waiting by the window it feels never-ending.’
‘In the big scheme of things it bloody is never-ending, Rose, and to a kid... How old were you?’
‘Eight.’
* * *
‘Eight.’ Art was shocked. His father had lost the plot for very similar reasons, which pretty much said everything there was to say on the subject of love, but abandonment had not been an issue. ‘Where did you stay...at the age of eight...while your mother vanished on her soul-seeking mission?’
‘You shouldn’t be too hard on her. She was screwed up at the time. I stayed in the village, of course. Where else? I lived with the neighbours. I’m not sure whether they thought that they’d be hanging onto me for as long as they had to but they were wonderful. That said, I knew there was gossip and that hurt. I was saved from a much harsher fate when my mother started acting up because I happened to live where I did. In a small village that protected its own. I owe them.’
‘You owe them...the entire village...a sizeable debt. So...’ this half to himself ‘...that’s why this fight is so personal to you.’
‘Something like that. But you must be bored stiff listening to me rattle on.’
‘The opposite.’ Art forced himself to relax. All problems had solutions and he was solution-orientated. ‘I’ve wandered through the village,’ he said, adroitly changing the subject as he perused the menu without looking at her. ‘I’m surprised you haven’t thought to use a little bribery and blackmail with the developers who want the land you’re occupying...’
‘Sorry?’ Rose’s head shot up and she stared at him with a frown.
‘You recall I asked Phil to have a look at the paperwork? Not because I’m any kind of expert, but I wanted to see for myself what the legal position was with the land. Some of the protesters out there have been asking questions...’
‘You never mentioned that to me.’
‘Should I have? Passing interest. Nothing more.’ Art paused. ‘The land is sold and there’s nothing anyone can do about that.’
‘You’d be surprised how public opinion can alter the outcome of something unpleasant.’ Rose’s lips firmed. She wasn’t sure whether to fume at his intrusion or be pleased at his intelligent interest in the situation.
‘People might be open to alternative lines of approach,’ he implied, shutting his menu and sitting back.
‘You’re very optimistic if you think that a company the size of DC Logistics would be interested in anything other than steamrollering over us. We’re fighting fire with fire and if we lose...then we can make sure that life isn’t easy for them as they go ahead with their conscienceless development.’
‘Or you could try another tack. Apparently the local school could do with a lot of refurbishment. The sports ground is in dire need of repair. One section of the building that was damaged by fire last year is still out of bounds. Frankly, that’s a lawsuit waiting to happen. Ever thought that instead of threatening a company that has deeds to the land, you could always coerce them into doing their bit for the community?’
‘You’ve certainly been digging deep.’ Rose sat back and looked at Art. ‘Have you been discussing this alternative with my protestors?’
‘They’re not your protestors,’ he fielded coolly, meeting her gaze without blinking. ‘If you have deeper, more personal reasons for your fight, then they don’t necessarily share those reasons. They might be open to other ways of dealing with the situation.’
Wine was being brought to the table. He waited until the waiter had poured them both a glass then he raised his.
‘But enough of this. We’re not here to talk about the land, are we? That said...it’s just something you might want to think about.’
IT WAS THE best meal she had ever had in her life although, as she reluctantly left a morsel of the crème brulée in its dish because she physically couldn’t manage another mouthful, Rose had to admit that it was much more than the quality of the food that had made the evening quite perfect.
It was the fact that she was here with Arturo.
They had not had an opportunity to talk, to really talk, since he had moved in and for four hours they more than made up for that. He was fascinating. He knew so much. He could converse with ease on any topic and he had a wonderful knack of drawing her out of herself, making her open up in a way that revealed to her just how private she had become over the years.
He could be self-deprecating one minute and, almost without pausing to draw breath, ruin the illusion by being astoundingly arrogant—but arrogant in a way that somehow didn’t manage to get on her nerves. She couldn’t understand how that was in any way, shape or form possible...but it clearly was.
And he’d made her think—about the protest and other ways that might be found to bring about a positive outcome. He had touched only once more on the subject and the notion of inevitability had been aired—yes, it was inevitable that the land would be developed, but that suggestion he had planted in her head was beginning to look quite promising. She had certain trump cards and there was much that could be done to improve the village.
She was tipsy and happy as they stepped out into the velvety black night.
‘I haven’t had such a lovely time in ages,’ she confided as a taxi pulled to a stop as soon as they were outside. She waited until he was in the back seat with her before turning to him. The darkness turned his face into a mosaic of hard shadows and angles and, just for a few seconds, she felt a tingle of apprehension that warred with the warm, melting feeling making her limbs heavy and pleasantly blurring her thoughts.
She was smiling—grinning like a Cheshire cat—but he was quite serious as he looked at her.
‘You look as though you can’t wait for the evening to end,’ she said lightly, sobering up, smile wavering. ‘Don’t blame you. You must be accustomed to far more exciting company than me.’
* * *
Looking back at her, Art thought that she couldn’t have been further from the truth. He hadn’t sat and talked with any woman for that length of time for years. In the normal course of events, an expensive meal would have included some light conversation but the evening would have been overlaid with the assumption of sex and the conversation would have been geared towards that.
‘What makes you say that?’
‘Something about you,’ Rose admitted truthfully. ‘You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met before and if I can see that, then so can everyone else. You strike me as the sort of guy who’s never short of female company. Is that why you steer clear of involvement? Because you don’t see the point of settling down when there are so