Lucy King - The Best Man for the Job

‘Nor is it your fault your father’s stuck in the Dark Ages.’

‘No, but that doesn’t make it any easier to bear.’

They reached the kitchen garden and he held open the gate. Celia brushed past him, making all the nerve endings in his body fizz and his pulse race as her scent slammed into him.

‘Where does it come from?’ he asked, just about resisting the urge to take advantage of her proximity and pulling her into his arms because that was not what this was about.

‘His attitude?’

He nodded and followed her down the path that bisected the garden, watching the sway of her body that was exaggerated by the flimsy fabric of her dress and ignoring the punch of lust that hit him square in the stomach.

Celia shrugged and sighed, then bent to look at the label stuck in the earth in front of a row of something leafy and green. Her hair tumbled down in long golden waves and Marcus found himself scanning the garden for a soft piece of ground he could pull her down to.

‘Who knows?’ she said, and he dragged his attention back to what she was saying. ‘The fact that he was a doted-on only child? That he had a stereotypical fifties mother? Or was he simply born a chauvinist?’

‘Why do you put up with it?’ he said, clearing his throat and determinedly shoving aside the images of Celia writhing and panting beneath him, her dress ruched up around her hips and her body arching against him.

She straightened, swept her hair back with a twist and looked at him. ‘I don’t have any choice. He’s still my father even though I’m never going to be what he thinks I should be.’

‘Which is no bad thing,’ he said, briefly trying to imagine Celia as a housewife and failing.

‘I agree. I can’t cook. I don’t have a clue where my iron is and I haven’t used a Hoover since my last day at university.’

‘Yet you still want his approval?’

She nodded. ‘Stupidly. I always have. Although I really don’t know why I still bother. I mean, he barely knows you yet he admires you in a way he’s never admired me even though he’s known me for thirty-one years. We work in similar fields, for goodness’ sake, yet he’s never offered me help. Whatever I achieve he’ll never think it amounts to as much as marriage and a family would. Which is ironic, really, when you think about how badly he screwed his up.’

‘Is his attitude to women why your parents divorced?’

She shook her head. ‘I think that was mainly because of his many, many affairs. But the attitude couldn’t have helped.’

‘So what did you mean when you said your ambition was his fault?’

‘Exactly that. The divorce hit me hard. Despite what he’d done I adored him. When he moved out I spent quite a lot of my time at school pathetically crying in the bathrooms. As a result I was bullied.’

That odd protective streak surged up inside him again and he frowned. ‘Badly?’ he asked, pushing it back.

‘Not really. Small-scale stuff. But one day I’d had enough and decided to channel my energies into studying instead of blubbing my eyes out.’

‘Is it a coincidence you’re a lawyer?’

She arched an eyebrow and shot him a quick smile. ‘What do you think?’

‘I think Freud would have a field day.’

‘Very probably.’

‘But why corporate law? Why not divorce law?’

‘Experiencing it once—even though sort of vicariously—was quite enough,’ she said with a shudder.

Marcus watched her as she began to walk further along the path and thought that, while he did think she had a problem with her work-life balance, her drive and focus when it came to her career were admirable. She’d worked hard and deserved everything she had. ‘What you’ve achieved is impressive,’ he said, reaching her with a couple of long, quick strides. ‘Especially with so little encouragement.’

She glanced over at him, surprised. ‘Thanks.’

‘You deserve everything you have.’

‘Wow,’ she said slowly. ‘I never thought I’d hear you say that.’

‘Neither did I.’

They continued in silence for a moment. Celia brushed her hand over a planter full of lavender and a faint smile curved her lips, presumably at the scent released.

‘Anyway, you haven’t always had it easy, have you?’ she said.

‘No,’ he said, although he’d got over the death of his parents and the trouble he’d subsequently had years ago.

‘So you’ve done pretty impressively too.’

Funny how the compliment warmed him. The novelty of a sign of approval after so many years of the opposite. Or maybe it was just the sun beating down on the thick fabric of his coat. ‘Thanks,’ he muttered.

She turned to look at him and her expression was questioning. ‘Why am I telling you all this anyway?’

‘I have no idea.’

‘Must be the brandy.’

‘Must be.’

‘I don’t need sorting out, you know.’

‘Of course you don’t.’

‘I don’t need rescuing.’

‘I know.’

She shot him a quick smile. ‘I definitely don’t need to see my father for at least a decade.’

‘A century, I should think.’

At the fountain that sat in the middle of the garden they turned left and carried on strolling down the path, passing raspberry nets and then runner-bean vines that wound up tall, narrow bamboo teepees before stopping at a bench that sat at the end of the path amidst the runner beans.

‘I’m sorry, Marcus,’ she said eventually.

He frowned, not needing her continued apology and not really liking it because, honestly, he preferred her fighting. ‘So you said.’

‘No, not about that,’ she said with a wave of her hand. ‘I mean about the things I implied you were going to do with your time now you’d sold your business. It was totally childish of me to suggest that you’d be partying with floozies. Your plans sound great. Different. Interesting.’

‘I hope they will be.’

‘I was wrong about that and I was probably wrong about why you were late getting here too, wasn’t I?’

‘Yup.’

‘No trio of clingy lovers?’

‘Not even one.’

‘Shame.’

‘It was.’

‘So what happened?’

‘I was in Switzerland tying up a few last details surrounding the sale of my company but was due to fly back yesterday morning. I should have had plenty of time, but because of the ash cloud my flight was cancelled, as were hundreds of others. By the time I got round to checking, all the trains were fully booked and there wasn’t a car left to rent for all the cash in Switzerland.’

‘What did you do?’

‘Found a taxi driver who drove me to Calais. From there I got on the train to cross the Channel, rented a car in Dover and drove straight here.’

‘Oh.’ Celia frowned. ‘When did you sleep?’

‘I didn’t.’

‘You must be tired.’

Oddly enough he wasn’t in the least bit tired. Right now he was about as awake and alert as he’d ever been. ‘It’s not the first time I’ve gone twenty-four hours and I doubt it’ll be the last.’

‘You’re very loyal.’

‘Dan’s my best friend. Why wouldn’t I be?’

She shrugged and carried on looking at a point in the distance so that, he assumed, she didn’t have to look at him. ‘Well, you know...’

Something that felt a bit like hurt stabbed him in the chest but he dismissed it because he didn’t do hurt. ‘Maybe I’m not everything you think I am,’ he said quietly.

She swivelled her gaze back to his and sighed. ‘Maybe you aren’t.’

‘Just what did I do, Celia?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Why the hatred?’

‘I don’t hate you.’

He lifted an eyebrow. ‘No? Seems that way to me. You never pass up an opportunity to have a go at me. You judge me and find me lacking. Every time we meet. Every single time. So what I want to know is, what did I ever do to earn your disdain?’