Orphan Under the Christmas Tree. Meredith Webber
or so before we have to leave.’
He turned her and gave her a little push towards the washrooms, catching up with her to hand over her big tote, which she’d left beside her chair, passing it to her with such a warm smile her stomach turned over.
Was she stupid to be doing this? Stupider than she usually was over men?
Was he stupid to be doing this?
Tom took himself off to the men’s washrooms and splashed cold water over his face.
He’d been attracted to Lauren from the first time he’d seen her. Then working with her on the board of the refuge, he’d got to know her as a person and become, he thought, a good friend. So her refusal to go out with him had worked out for the best, he’d decided, because Lauren Cooper was a woman who deserved the whole deal as far as love was concerned and he didn’t do love.
Oh, he understood it existed. It even worked for a lot of people, but to him it was the most destructive force on earth and he’d decided at an early age that he would avoid it at all cost. The women with whom he’d enjoyed affairs over the years had always understood there’d be no ‘happy ever after’ scenario ahead of them. He was always honest, explaining right at the beginning that he enjoyed women and their company, enjoyed the physical pleasure of affairs, and hoped the enjoyment was mutual, but that he wasn’t looking for anything long term, particularly not marriage.
A few had asked why, and a few more had thought they’d change his mind, but on the whole they’d parted amicably enough and he remained on friendly terms with many of the women.
Lauren, however, was different …
‘Are you having second thoughts in there?’
An edge in her voice told him she’d recovered a little of her composure, but he wouldn’t have been human if he wasn’t wondering what had rattled her so much.
He emerged from the washroom, wanting to ask, but the Lauren who was waiting there was so far from the tense and tearful woman he’d left that any words he might have had dried to ashes on his tongue.
Which, he hoped, wasn’t hanging out.
She’d swept her shoulder-length blonde hair into a pleat at the back of her head, making her neck look longer, elegant. Mascara darkened her eyelashes, emphasising her fascinating eyes with their dashes of brown, green and gold, but it was her mouth that drew—and held—his attention.
He tried to remember if he’d ever seen Lauren wearing lipstick and decided, if he had, it must have been a pale, neutral shade, because one thing was for sure, he’d never seen those full, lush, pouting lips covered in a glossy, vibrant, fire-engine red.
A red that yelled danger, and beware, but at the same time tempted and seduced!
‘Much better,’ he managed to mutter, because wasn’t he Mr Cool where all women were concerned?
Inside he wasn’t cool at all, not even close.
Inside he was wired—his mind playing tricks on him, showing him flashing images of those lips while his body ached to feel them on his skin—just once—no, more than once—just once would never be enough …
‘So, shall we go,’ she said, Ms Cool definitely, whatever angst she’d been suffering, possibly was still suffering, hidden behind her war paint.
And it was war paint!
Those red lips would challenge every man who saw her, distract them from the tree raising, make them think things most of them shouldn’t think about a woman they maybe didn’t know.
She’d linked her arm through his elbow while his mind was rioting, and now walked him back along the corridor, and out of the hospital, her tote slung across her other shoulder, so her body was pressed to his, all down one side.
At least walking beside her he couldn’t see her lips, although he did keep sneaking glances at them—at her …
Tom was obviously regretting saying yes, Lauren decided as they left the hospital building. His usual rattle of cheery conversation had dried up, perhaps because he was trying to think of some way to extricate himself from this situation.
And was the lipstick too bright?
From the day she’d heard Nat Williams was coming back to town she’d searched the internet for red lipsticks, wanting bright and vibrant red, not orangy red or pinkish red, but fire-engine red.
Challenge red!
And it had to last, not disappear the moment she sipped a drink or ate a sandwich …
She knew it was pathetic, still to be hung up over something that had happened to her teenage self, although the psychologist in her accepted that the damage Nat had done to her would probably never go away.
Well, some of it wouldn’t—that was for sure …
‘You usually chat,’ she said to Tom as they crossed the car park, heading for the esplanade.
She’d spoken mainly to divert her thoughts, but also because it was weird, walking in total silence with the usually loquacious Tom.
He was regretting it!
‘Struck dumb by your red lips,’ he said, and something in his voice told her there might be an element of truth in what he’d said.
‘You struck dumb by lipstick?’ she teased, hoping they could reach some comfortably light-hearted plane before they joined the crush by the beach. ‘Hardly!’
‘You’d be surprised,’ he muttered, then he seemed to collect himself, taking her hand in his and drawing her towards the area where the road had been blocked off, and seating erected to one side of where the big tree lay. ‘Come on, we’re in the good seats,’ he said. ‘I can see Jo and Cam among the crowd milling near the platform—we can sit with them.’
He pointed out the two doctors. Jo Harris was Lauren’s best friend, Fraser Cameron Jo’s new fiancé. But he didn’t think Lauren was listening to anything he said, and was it because he was holding her hand that he felt her stiffen?
He turned towards her but her attention was on the stands, where a platform marked the place where the guest of honour would press the button to raise the tree. Tom checked out the people on the platform. Helene Youngman, the local mayor, four councillors, the managers of a few local businesses who donated funds towards the Christmas tree decorations, a youngish bloke in casual gear—was he the new dentist? Cam had heard someone had bought the practice but hadn’t met the man.
Whoever he was, he had a woman and a couple of kids with him. And everyone seemed to know him so maybe he wasn’t the new dentist …
Tom had been so engrossed in checking out the dignitaries on the platform, he hadn’t realised that Lauren had dropped his hand. She had also stopped moving, standing there, a yard or so behind him, seemingly frozen on the spot.
She couldn’t do it! Seeing Nat there with the woman who must be his wife had made Lauren’s stomach turn over—not with remembered love but with remembered fear, and apprehension for the woman she didn’t know. And most of all regret!
She should have spoken out—told someone—anyone …
Got him the help he must have needed, although at seventeen she’d had no idea help existed for men like Nat …
No idea that there were other men like Nat …
Back then she’d blamed herself …
Tom had turned back, taking her hand again, easing her towards the steps, and Jo materialised beside her, grabbing her other hand, the fingers of Jo’s left hand squeezing hers, Jo’s soft voice telling her she could do this, giving her a quick shoulder-to-shoulder hug, although Lauren was usually the hugger.
They climbed the steps to the platform and before Lauren could catch a strengthening breath, Nat was there in front