Absent in the Spring (The Shakespeare Sisters 3)

‘Oh my God, you’re there.’ She put a hand to her chest to try to calm herself, but the thump of her heart was incessant. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘That’s not quite the welcome I was hoping for.’ He sounded amused rather than annoyed at her response.

‘I’m…’ She had to take a breath to try to centre herself. ‘I wasn’t expecting company. I’m a mess. The apartment’s a mess. Give me five minutes.’ The thought of him seeing her like this, so unpolished and out of control, made her panic even more. Even in Paris – when they were both naked – she’d looked more sophisticated and elegant than this.

‘You could never be a mess. And no need to tidy on my account. I’ve come to see you, not your apartment. I’m just glad you’re home. I thought I might have to spend the night sitting on your doorstep, waiting for you to come back from a night out.’

‘And how do you know I don’t have a hot date up here with me?’ She kept her voice light, flirting with him. Interested to hear his response.

‘Because you weren’t expecting company,’ he said. And she thought she could see his grin from her window. ‘Isn’t that what you just told me?’

A car turned into the road, splashing water from the rain-soaked surface as it drove along. She could see a ghost of herself in the reflection of the glass. And yeah, she was a mess, but she was an excited mess.

‘Don’t go anywhere,’ she said, letting the curtain fall closed. ‘I’ll just put something nicer on and I’ll let you in.’

‘I wanna see you messy,’ he said. ‘Don’t make me wait. I’ve spent the past ten hours flying over to see you.’

Oh, to hell with it. She practically ran to the button by her door, pressing the buzzer to release the lock at the entrance way. Then she heard footsteps, and the banging of a case as it was being dragged up the flight of stairs. The next moment he was knocking at her door, and she was snatching it open, her grin wide, her mussed-up hair and pyjamas forgotten. Because he was there, on her front doorstep, and nothing else mattered.

She wasn’t sure who closed the gap between them, but one moment they were looking at each other, the next he was running his hand down her neck, angling her head until his lips touched hers. Then she was kissing him back like crazy, weeks’ worth of pent-up flirtation making her throw her arms around him, and meld her body to his without a single millimetre between them. She’d forgotten how well he could kiss, with that warm, demanding mouth, and those lips that made her whole body sing. She’d forgotten how he felt, his body thick and strong, his shoulders powerful enough to lift her up and carry her inside her apartment, as he kicked the door closed behind him.

And as it happened, it really didn’t matter what she was wearing, because within five minutes their clothes were scattered over her living-room floor, in a trail of destruction that led to her bedroom.

He lay her on the bed, brushing kisses across her neck, her chest, her stomach, murmuring how much he’d missed her, how he’d been dreaming about her, how he needed to be inside her right then. When he f

inally slid inside, her thighs wrapped around his demanding hips, his arms cradling her as though she was something precious, all thoughts of being a mess had disappeared completely.

All she could think about was him. Right then, nothing else mattered.

They spent the weekend holed up in her bed, only emerging to make the odd cup of tea, or to head to the bathroom to freshen up. The first time they actually left her flat was on Sunday morning, when her milk had finally run out, and their mutual need for a coffee had overridden their need to stay naked and entwined. So they walked up to the Royal Mile, buying coffee-to-go from a small bakery on the corner, then carrying their Styrofoam cups up to the castle. The sun had come out in full force – as though she’d heard Lachlan was visiting and wanted to show him what she could do – and the blue sky did wonders for the city. It made Lucy smile so much her cheeks ached.

‘Look at that,’ Lachlan said, peering in the window of a gift shop. There was a mannequin wearing a blue T-shirt in the centre, with I LOVE SCOTLAND written across the chest. ‘You think if I wear that shirt I might win the case?’ He grinned at her, and just like that her whole body heated up.

‘If you wear that,’ she said, taking a sip of her coffee, ‘I’ll buy your brother off myself.’

He slid his hand into hers, tucking them both into the pocket of his jacket as they made it to the Portcullis Gate. Above the entrance, flags were dancing in the wind atop their poles. People flowed through the gate, stopping to buy their tickets. Lucy and Lachlan leaned against the stone bridge, watching them come and go, his arm wrapped around her waist.

‘Come and visit me in New York,’ he said, turning to brush his lips across her forehead.

‘I can’t.’

‘Why not?’ She felt him stiffening beside her.

She closed her eyes for a moment, wishing that perfect moment could come back. But instead a flood of thoughts washed through her, making her want to sigh. ‘Because I’m your solicitor and you’re my client. If I fly over to New York then I’m pretty much saying we’re in a relationship, and I can’t do that and represent you on the case.’

‘You don’t think we’re in a relationship now?’ he asked her. There was a mixture of amusement and confusion in his voice.

‘I don’t know,’ she admitted. She’d not allowed herself to think about it. Fear had made her lock it away in a compartment deep inside of her. ‘Probably.’ She licked her lips, tasting the coffee on her tongue. ‘I guess I could dismiss Glencarraig as a one-off, and maybe even Paris. But after this, I don’t know.’ She shook her head, trying to think it through. He’d flown all this way just to see her. Not for business reasons. They hadn’t even mentioned his case once until now.

‘Lucy, look at me.’ His voice was strong. She turned her head, her face questioning. He reached out and cupped her cheek with his hand, the sweetest expression on his face. ‘As far as I’m concerned this isn’t a one-off, or a three-off or whatever you want to call it. I flew over because I wanted to see you, I wanted to spend time with you. And I want you to fly to New York to spend time with me.’

‘But the case —’

‘Fuck the case, I’ll fire you from it if I have to.’ He moved his hand back, fingers sliding through her hair. ‘Glencarraig can wait, but I can’t. I want you to visit me.’

‘Let me speak to my boss tomorrow,’ she said, her throat full of emotion. She couldn’t believe she was considering this. Her career had always been the most important thing in her life – along with her family – and admitting to Malcolm Dunvale that she was in a relationship with a client wasn’t going to win her any favours. ‘I’ll ask to be taken off the case.’

His eyes were soft as he stared at her. ‘You’d do that for me?’ He turned until they were face to face, still searching for her response.