Bad Boy (Invertary 5)

“Yeah,” Abby said.

His hands clenched on her hips and he kissed her hard.

33

“Actually, I never make a mistake, because it

takes a huge effort for me to be wrong.”

Johan Cruyff, Dutch national player

She was a coward. Victoria would have laughed at herself, only she’d forgotten how to laugh a long time ago. Of course she was a coward. She’d always been a coward. This idea was just the latest incarnation of an inborn trait.

She eyed the phone in her hand, then the door in front of her. She resisted the urge to chew her bottom lip. Ladies did not do such things. Instead she placed one perfectly manicured hand on her roiling stomach and focused on breathing in and out.

Everything was crumbling. It was all falling down around her. She felt as though she was in an earthquake zone. The ground beneath her feet wasn’t stable any longer. The walls she’d built were cracked. Each day brought more aftershocks. Her world was coming down.

And this was the proof—she wanted to lean on someone.

Not someone—Lawrence. Victoria counted her breaths as her blood thundered through her veins. It had been almost thirty years since she’d last let someone close to her. Since she’d last trusted anyone. Thirty long years since she’d had anyone to give her strength. And now there was Lawrence. Offering everything she’d never dared hope to have. Making her dream again.

She let out a long, silent breath. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t knock on the door. She couldn’t ask him to stand with her while she spoke to her mother. It was cowardly. What kind of woman needed support to talk to her own mother? Coward. She was a coward.

And yet...

Was it so wrong to need someone? So wrong to ask for help? Was it a sign of weakness to need support? Lawrence didn’t think so. Abby had no problem asking for help. And they were two of the strongest people she knew.

Before she could stop herself, she reached out and knocked on the door. The urge to run almost won her over. She clenched the phone in her hand as she stared at the door. It felt like an eternity before it opened.

“Vicki.” Lawrence’s whole face lit up at the sight of her.

His obvious pleasure at her appearance almost eased her fear.

“I...” The words dried up in her mouth. How foolish. She should never have bothered him.

“What is it?” He took a step towards her. The frown lines between his brows deepened.

She loved the lines on his face. The crinkles around his eyes that said he knew how to laugh. The grooves that appeared when he was concentrating. The wrinkles on his brow that spoke of experience. She watched as his eyes took in everything about her. He smiled with realisation when he saw the phone in her hand.

“Have you called yet, or are you about to? Do you want to talk about it, or do you want company to make the call?” There was only genuine affection in his eyes. No censure. No judgment.

She felt her shoulders relax as she swallowed, her throat painfully dry.

“I was hoping for company while I made the call.” It was a relief to hear her voice was as solid as usual.

“Come on in.” He stepped out of the doorway and motioned her into the room. “How about a drink first? I asked Dougal to send up a bottle of scotch at the start of the week and there’s plenty left.” His eyes crinkled at her. “The Scots do whisky very well indeed. It’s another plus for moving here.”

“Thank you.” Victoria stood stiff inside the doorway.

“Sit.” Lawrence pointed at the chair in front of the desk. His confident stride took him over to the small fridge. He grabbed two glasses from the shelf above it, filled them with ice from the fridge, then topped them up from the bottle of single malt on the counter.

Victoria perched nervously on the edge of the chair as she looked around the room. It was a mirror image of hers, decorated in creams with a touch of red tartan to accent it. A lovely room. Comforting. And neat. For some reason it reassured Victoria to discover Lawrence was neat.

“Here you are.” He handed her the glass.

They sipped as they watched each other. Lawrence seemed to be considering something. “Do you want to put the call on speaker, or would you rather I didn’t listen to both ends of the conversation?” He pointed at his laptop. “I can busy myself with work, if you’d rather I didn’t hear the whole thing. I can even pretend I’m not listening, if you think it will help.” His mouth quirked up into a charming smile. The sight of it disarmed her.