Cathy Kelly 6-Book Collection: Someone Like You, What She Wants, Just Between Us, Best of Friends, Always and Forever, Past Secrets

‘I’d love to,’ Hannah said, weak with a combination of longing and sheer delight that he’d phoned. ‘What time?’

‘I’ll meet you in the pub across the road from the Gate at seven. Can’t wait.’ And he was gone.

Her stomach was a mass of butterflies as she thought about Felix actually phoning her. Then the butterflies turned to knots as she realized she had greasy hair, was wearing completely the wrong outfit and wouldn’t have time to go home and change before the theatre.

And she hadn’t even asked what play they were going to see. Talk about the strong feminist type who thought marriage was for wimps. ‘I’ll make him suffer! Yeah, right. She was like an affectionate cat – rolling over so that someone, anyone could rub her tummy. Still, the faintest glimmer of a smile lit up her face. If it was Felix rubbing her tummy, she wouldn’t mind.

Determined that thinking about him wouldn’t put the kibosh on yet another working day, Hannah did her best to work steadily. She decided to tell David she had to leave early: that way, she could race home, do her hair and find something drop-dead gorgeous to wear.

But Cupid was having none of it. When five o’clock came, David called the senior staff into his office for a meeting. While he discussed sales targets, his master plan, and talked about how well everyone had been doing, Hannah wriggled in her seat. She wasn’t listening to a word he was saying. She was mentally running through the contents of her wardrobe, trying to remember if she’d ironed her new silky red shirt from Principles, the one with the tie-waist. And what about underwear…? If the beige lace bra was in the laundry basket, she’d shoot herself. It was the sexiest bra imaginable and looked wonderful with the rich red shirt with a couple of buttons left open so her cleavage could peek out. Hannah didn’t usually leave any buttons open, but she’d practised at home in front of the mirror and that particular look was very sexy. She’d even left her glasses off and was wearing contacts for a change.

‘I know we’re running a bit late,’ David said, with a glance towards a fidgety Hannah, ‘but an old colleague from the States is here and she’s kindly agreed to give us a talk about the real estate business in the USA and what’s going on there. Her advice could be useful because of all the clients we’re getting from the States who are relocating here. Can I introduce you to Martha Parker…’

Normally, Hannah would have been fascinated by the elegant and beautifully groomed Ms Parker, with her bobbed, frosted hair, exquisite fitted cream suit and a shimmering air of self-confidence. Tonight, she wanted Martha to get off the stage so she could race home and primp. Alas, Ms Parker had a lot to say and it took her half an hour to say it. As the staff filed out of David’s office, it was five past six. There was no way Hannah had time to go home now. She’d have to do wonderful things with make-up and deodorant, and pray the lights were dim in the theatre. What was that thing she’d read about in women’s magazines about talcum powder hiding greasy hair? You shook a bit on your parting, let it get rid of the shine and then brushed it out. Couldn’t be easier. She’d buy some en route.

What with asphyxiating herself with deodorant in the ladies’ loo and having to spend five minutes shaking talcum powder off her dress when she applied it too liberally, Hannah ended up ten minutes late. She was sure she was sweating as she reached the bar, despite all the deodorant and a generous spray of Donna’s Opium.

Even in the pre-theatre crowd that thronged the small bar, Felix stood out. His blond, noble head was visible from the door and Hannah could see he was talking to someone. In profile, he was even better looking: the straight nose could have been lifted from a medieval portrait of some arrogant young king, and the strong jaw jutted out in a gloriously masculine way. He threw back his leonine head and laughed. She felt herself smiling in sympathy as she crossed the room. Then he turned and saw her and the velvety mahogany eyes creased up in an appreciative smile.

Hannah felt her insides melt. She reached the group. Instead of taking her hand or kissing her on the cheek, Felix pulled her to him with strong, lean arms. When she was standing in the circle of his embrace, he lowered his golden head to hers and kissed her full on the lips. Utterly unexpected, it was utterly incredible. Forgotten bits of her body moulded against his in excitement. His lips were hard against her full mouth and their tongues entwined in passion.

‘Why don’t you see if they rent rooms by the hour?’ enquired a dry voice.

They broke apart, Hannah red-faced and Felix laughing. ‘She’s beautiful, can you blame me?’ he demanded of the group, keeping one arm round Hannah.

‘How are you, my love?’ he asked her in a low voice. ‘I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.’

Some demon in Hannah’s head made her say: ‘Really? You took long enough phoning me, then.’

‘Ouch,’ he grinned, pinching her waist with one hand. ‘She bites. I deserved that, I guess.’

Hannah cringed at what she’d said. Talk about clingy and insecure. Why hadn’t she just told him she’d spent two days moping by the phone while she was at it.

‘I had a couple of hectic days filming,’ Felix was explaining. ‘That’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it. Now, what do you want to drink?’

She was already high and didn’t need alcohol, so she asked for mineral water.

‘Have a real drink,’ said Felix. ‘I’d have thought you were the type of tough girl who’d kick-start her vibrator, roll her own tampons and drink straight Scotch.’

The crowd guffawed again.

‘I’m only tough with men,’ Hannah retorted sweetly, thinking that two could play that game. ‘The rest of the time, I’m all woman.’

‘Oh, baybee,’ growled Felix. ‘You’re my kind of girl, all right. Mineral water it is.’

He didn’t introduce her to the group, which was just as well, Hannah felt, as he seemed different with an audience than he had alone in the office. She preferred having him to herself.

At half seven, they made their way to the theatre. It was the first night of a new production of Lady Windermere’s Fan, Hannah realized as she saw the posters. She wasn’t much of a theatre-goer and felt nervous in case she let this fact slip out. As an actor, Felix obviously went to the theatre all the time. She hated the thought of her lack of culture being made public. Hannah’s efforts at improving herself hadn’t stretched to the theatre yet. In the Campbell house when she’d been growing up culture was something found in yoghurt. Well, it was with Stuart and her father, anyway, who both felt that reading anything more taxing than the racing results was a waste of time.

Almost as soon as they’d made it inside, Felix said he had to disappear for a moment. ‘I see someone I must say hello to. I won’t be long,’ he said, leaving her in the throng of the foyer.

Feeling a little lost, Hannah looked around her, hoping she could adopt the air of one who fitted in perfectly but was gazing about her with interest instead of nerves. Two women beside her were talking volubly about the arts, braceleted arms jangling as they knocked back white wine.

‘…I hear the Lubarte Players are thinking of putting on a performance of Vera,’ one said.

‘Really, how terrible,’ the other replied. ‘What a dreadful play. You’d hardly believe it was Wilde, I always say.’ They laughed.

When Felix returned, they made their way to their seats. ‘I love Wilde,’ Hannah sighed. ‘I’m sure I remember hearing somewhere that some theatre group are trying to put on Vera,’ she added. ‘I’ve never liked that play; always felt it wasn’t really classic Wilde.’

Felix shot her an impressed look. ‘I had no idea you were an aficionado of the theatre, my love,’ he said.

Hannah smiled serenely. ‘Never underestimate me,’ she said in a mock severe voice.

The play was wonderfully clever and Hannah wasn’t sure if it was her heightened sense of pleasure that made it so thrilling for her, or the fact that Felix sat silently beside her, one hand wedged against her thigh, stroking her knee through the fabric of her long dress.

In the interval, they mingled with the other theatregoers, Felix leading her by the hand as they drifted from group to group, all comers hugging and kissing him delightedly. He was quite the star, she realized, as the fifth person threw their arms around Felix and congratulated him on the wonderful reviews he’d received for his last role. From the comments, she’d established that he’d had a small part in a British/Canadian production set in the 1800s. He was now filming a small-budget British film that was being made in Ireland and it appeared that at least half of the Irish acting fraternity were involved in some way.

‘Terrible tosh, but it pays the mortgage,’ sighed one elegant man in a velvet suit, who had a small role in the film.

‘Wouldn’t touch that sort of brainless rubbish!’ sniffed an actress, whom Felix whispered had been sent off after her first audition.

After lots of air-kissing and cries of ‘You must come to supper with us sometime soon, dear boy,’ Hannah and Felix made their way back to their seats for the second half.

‘Let’s make a speedy getaway when it’s over,’ he murmured into her ear, his breath caressing. ‘I want you all to myself and, if we hang around, we’ll have an entourage.’

After the third curtain call, Felix whisked Hannah out of the theatre, into a taxi and across the river to the Trocadero, the traditional after-theatre restaurant and a famous haunt of actors.

Annexing a small table at the back, Felix ordered smoked salmon and champagne for both of them without even looking at the menu.

Hannah wasn’t sure what excited her more: the way this fabulous man was gazing at her hungrily, or the way he’d taken charge of everything. There was something so masterful about him, it gave her a frisson of erotic excitement to think about being in bed with him. Imagine how utterly in control he’d be then, that hard golden body driving into hers, naked skin on skin…

Soft bread rolls came. Felix buttered one thickly for her and fed her small bits, letting her savour the taste of butter melting into the feather-light roll. ‘It’s soft, liquid and delicious,’ he said. ‘That’s what it’s going to feel like when I make love to you, Hannah. Delicious, but – ’ he grinned wickedly – ‘not soft.’

Hannah gulped. This was all moving too fast, yet she couldn’t help herself: she wanted him too.

The champagne arrived. Felix never took his eyes off her as he drank from his glass. The liquid exploded in Hannah’s mouth, like exquisite pins and needles dancing across her tongue.

‘You’re beautiful,’ he said softly, reaching out with long fingers to touch her face. He traced the high cheekbones, trailed his fingers across her full, quivering lips, letting one finger slide languorously into her mouth. Instinctively, she sucked on it, holding him prisoner while her tongue ran over it, tasting the saltiness of his skin. As moments went, it was more erotic than any she’d ever shared with a man before, and they were in a restaurant! Lord only knew what it’d be like to be alone with him, without a phalanx of waiters and other diners as chaperones.

Felix’s wide mouth curved into a wicked smile, one that ignited something deep inside Hannah. Desire surged through her like a bursting dam. He pulled his finger out, then slid it into his own mouth as if tasting her. He put his head to one side consideringly. ‘Sweet,’ he pronounced. ‘Like you. Sweet…’ his voice lowered an octave until it was the consistency of honey-covered gravel, ‘and ripe.’

Hannah breathed out raggedly.

A waiter appeared with two plates of smoked salmon.

Hannah wanted to grab Felix, tell the waiters to forget about the fish, and hightail it back to her flat where she’d show him exactly how sweet she was.

But Felix attacked his plate with the same fascination he’d shown when caressing her. I’m so hungry,’ he growled, squeezing lemon on to his food with one hand and forking up slivers of smoked salmon with the other. She watched him eat for a while, not hungry herself because desire had elbowed all other primary urges out of the way. She loved the way his blond hair flopped over those hypnotic eyes and the way his huge mouth opened wide, white teeth gleaming as he consumed his meal. He was a man of passion, she thought wistfully, passionate about food, about love, about life and about sex.