Her Improper Affair. Shea McMaster
portion of the nuptials to attend before the newlyweds head off to their new life. It’s going to be a busy week, and tonight is my one night to get some real sleep. And I do mean sleep. Something that usually doesn’t happen when you stay over, love.”
Deirdre’s laugh was throaty, and her hand slipped down to hold him by the waistband of his jeans. Obviously she thought she still had a hold over him. Something he’d let her believe for the last eighteen months. A hold that had been slipping from the moment he’d met Courtney. A fact that would have repercussions the moment Deirdre figured out his attraction had shifted. Not that he’d ever had the illusion of a long-term relationship with Deirdre. He was a diversion for her when everyone else was tied up, and he’d known it from day one. Since she wasn’t the type who’d ever marry him, he’d been happy to accommodate her when she got the itch to see him. But he wasn’t going down that road again. He just had to be careful how he broke it to her.
“All right.” The smile was conciliatory, if a little brittle. “I’ll forgive you this once if you include me as your plus-one for the celebrations. I haven’t seen Drew in ages, and I’d like to meet his bride. I’ve heard she’s a beauty.”
“That she is.” Oswald gently removed Deirdre’s hand from his jeans. “She’s also gentle and kind on the surface, with a steel backbone beneath. Anyhow, you’ll love her. She’s wonderful and good for Drew.”
“I look forward to it. Call me!”
With that she leaned forward and placed a brief kiss on his chin before turning and sauntering toward the sidewalk with an over exaggerated sway of her hips. Oswald heaved a sigh of relief, and gently closed the door, double checking the locks. Now he had to figure out how to not invite Deirdre to the reception on Sunday celebrating the newlyweds. Courtney would be there and Deirdre would have no issue with letting Courtney know about their relationship. As it had been. The one that no longer existed. The one he had to tell Deirdre was over.
* * * *
Oswald managed to stick to his plan of digging into work until late Saturday afternoon. His vow to stop thinking of Courtney, not so much. He was just considering a short break for dinner when his cell phone rang. Since Court’s number showed, he answered.
“There you are,” Court said. “Tried your flat and couldn’t get through the office switchboard, have to fix that on the weekends. Hate calling your cell because of what I might be interrupting.”
“You aren’t interrupting a thing. I’m at the office and just considering a break for dinner.”
“Perfect. We’re at the flat, got in yesterday, and spent today getting people sorted. Randi’s rustled up something involving pasta, seafood, and some of that San Francisco sourdough she smuggled over. It’s just family, which includes Larry, so haul yourself over here. By the size of the salad and the pasta pot, I do believe Randi means to feed half of London.”
“Who can resist an offer like that? Shall I pick up some wine on the way? A cake for dessert?”
“We’re set. Just bring yourself and your appetite.”
And maybe somewhere along the way he’d find his courage. How would Courtney greet him? As for him, he planned to act as he always did. Reserved. Removed. One step back from the inner circle. Larry being there would help. He loved to tease Courtney, and Oswald could watch from the sidelines.
With the flat not far from the offices, Oswald managed to make it there in fifteen minutes, and that was dragging his feet. Easy commute for Court. Probably where Courtney would stay while her parents traveled. Not that they needed a house sitter, but Court would probably insist because of the building security and the vicinity. At least there were few gangbangers in this section of well-lit and patrolled streets. Although the temptation of her living so close to the office could be harder to ignore. A brisk walk for a midday break, if one could wait long enough to avoid scandal at the office.
The doorman let him in, and the security man at the desk gave him a nod. They knew him well, and Court had probably called down to expect him. The elevator ride to the top floor was fast, and he found the flat door open when he approached. The level of trust and acceptance extended by the Robinsons never failed to impress him. It humbled him. Gave him ideas of grandeur above his accepted station in life. The only Robinsons to ever look down their noses at him had been Drew’s mother, Beatrice, and his grandmother, old Mrs. Robinson. But then again, both women looked down on everyone. Mrs. Robinson had been kinder about it, more along the line of not wanting to be bothered with little boys, rather than seeing him as low class trash. That had come from Beatrice. As far as he could tell, no one missed that woman.
“Oswald!” Larry greeted him at the door with a glass of aged liquor. “Good to see you, m’boy.”
Before he could get a word out, the distinctive opening of Osborne’s “Crazy Train” screeched out from the speakers, then the volume dropped. Courtney looked up from the stereo set and gave him a snarky smile. One he couldn’t resist returning despite his resolve to distance himself from her. Something that was going to be harder to accomplish than he’d originally thought. Especially if they continued to invite him to intimate family events like this one.
“Oswald’s here,” Randi sang out from the kitchen where delicious smells emanated.
“Evening, everyone.” He shrugged off his jacket and hung it on the coat tree near the door. Larry handed him the drink, and they made their way deeper into the flat. The music volume was now at background level, and it was easy to let the heavy metal tune roll off his shoulders. Maybe one day he’d confess to Courtney he liked heavy metal as much as baroque, whatever the setting called for. Then again, it was a bit of fun to watch her try to rile him with her musical introductions. It was even more fun to watch her dance to the tunes rocking the sound system. The tight stretchy leggings she wore called to mind the dancers from videos made in the eighties. All she needed was big hair instead of her sleek ponytail. Still, a bloke had to admire the curve of her bottom and the long legs on display. The T-shirt she wore wasn’t so loose he couldn’t make out other curves. He’d probably shock her into a faint if he danced over to her playing air guitar. The very fantasy was almost too rich to ignore before he reminded himself of his plan to back away.
* * * *
Birdie wasn’t quite sure how she felt seeing Ozzie again. Well, she wanted to rush to his arms and kiss him silly. Her mouth actually watered at the thought of kissing him. His taste, the feel of him was like a ghost feeling in her mouth. Oh, God, what if he could see that on her face? Cheeks flaming, she turned toward the stereo and fiddled with the play list while waiting for her face to cool.
He looked good. He also looked tired, and she guessed that was to be expected. She was pretty wiped out herself. The wedding, the travel, the dreams. Oh Lord had she had dreams. Every night since the wedding she’d dreamed of Ozzie in full color. And much to her embarrassment, she’d even dreamed of him while curled up in her seat on the plane. She still wasn’t sure if it was a good thing she’d been sitting next to a stranger, who was no longer a stranger, but he hadn’t said anything, not that once they’d been formally introduced she’d had a chance to talk with him. Dad had spent most of the last two hours of the flight sitting with Mom’s favorite rock star, catching up on family business. Mostly she was thankful Ozzie hadn’t been her seatmate as originally planned.
“Dinner’s on the table,” her mom called out. What was supposed to have been a small dinner party had become a dozen people. Her parents. Drew and Meilin, of course. Meilin’s parents. Paul and Larry. Both her grandfather and grandmother. Ozzie. And her. Chairs shuffled as people found their seats. Corks popped as her father and Drew opened half a dozen bottles of white wine and passed them down the table. Two large bowls on each end of the table held a mountain of tossed green salad and steaming vats of seafood Alfredo. Four bread baskets held the also steaming slices of sourdough bread. Everyone had carried at least one loaf in their carry-on luggage. Birdie herself had carried two.
As she approached the table with two pitchers of water, she found the only chair left was between Ozzie and Paul. Ozzie stood holding the chair for her.