Page 28 of Love in Tune

Hal listened to her leave and slid down to sit on the floor in his hallway.

He’d been relieved to hear her key in the lock last night, even though he’d never acknowledge that he’d noticed she was late home from work.

And then she’d stopped by his door and told him about her day, another sequence of unlikely events that made him hold his head in his hands and wonder how she, and those around her, made it through each day alive.

One day the heroine on the front of the local paper.

The next day dating random men because they happened to play the piano.

And then somehow cooking dinner for thirty OAPs even though she could barely cook for herself.

Honey seemed to get up each morning and approach life like a beautiful, haphazard firework; the distinct possibility of disaster balanced against the high probability of brightening someone’s day.

She’d brightened his day yesterday just by being in it, and he’d returned the favour by providing an idiot-proof way to cook the chicken.

It seemed like a deal weighted heavily his way.

‘Skinny Steve forgot to re-cover the chicken again after he’d checked it so it all went a bit dry, but on the whole, it wasn’t too bad.’

‘I’d have fired Skinny Steve on the spot,’ Hal said that evening, listening once more to Honey regale him about her day.

She’d come in around eight, late again, and this time when she’d come to his door he hadn’t ignored her.

She sounded tired, and his curiosity had got the better of him.

She was cooking, and he was a chef, after all.

‘You’re joking. Steve’s all that stands between me and starvation for the residents. He knows more than he thinks he does when he just relaxes and trusts his instincts,’ Honey said. ‘He needs a proper teacher, that’s all. He could probably become a good chef in the right kitchen.’

Hal suspected it was encouragement and support from Honey that had given Skinny Steve a boost; he’d seen it time after time in professional kitchens. Chefs made by praise and chefs broken by criticism.

‘You should trust your own instincts too, Honey,’ he said. ‘They’re good.’

She didn’t reply, no smart comeback. In fact, he couldn’t be sure, but it sounded as if she might be trying to hide the fact that she was crying. He couldn’t stop himself. He reached out and closed his fingers around the latch of his door, on the very edge of opening it.

‘Are you crying?’ he said, for want of something more tactful.

She definitely was. ‘It’s your fault. You said something nice to me and I’m bloody knackered and Skinny Steve almost ruined dinner.’

Hal processed the three bits of information, and then sighed and swung the door open. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’

He heard her snivel. ‘Yes.’

She followed him down the hall into his kitchen.

‘Should I make it?’ she asked, her voice small and laced with uncertainty.

‘Knob off. I can make tea. Go and sit down, I’ll bring it through.’

Hal made Honey a sandwich while he waited on the kettle, taking it all through and placing it on the coffee table when it was ready.

‘You didn’t have to …’ she said. At least it sounded as though she’d finished crying now.

‘Just eat,’ he said roughly, not especially proud of the chicken and brie salad sandwich he’d made her but glad to be able to offer something.

‘You make good sandwiches,’ she said after a while. ‘And nice tea.’

‘Feeling better now?’ he asked, even though her voice already told him the answer.

‘A bit. Thank you.’

‘Want some whisky?’

‘Best not,’ she laughed, and then she stopped laughing. ‘Know what I really would like, Hal?’

Danger. He could almost smell it; the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

‘Honey …’

Her hand moved to his knee, warm and firm, her fingers grazing the skin where the soft denim had split open.

‘I shouldn’t have asked you to come in,’ he said quietly.

‘And I shouldn’t have come to your door when you piss me off so much, but I did, so I guess we’re even. I can’t stay away from you, Hal.’

‘Try harder,’ he frowned, distracted by the slow stroke of her thumb over his kneecap.

She took a while to speak again. ‘I’ve been thinking about something. I have a proposition for you,’ she said, her voice brave and breathless.

He swallowed hard. ‘What kind of proposition?’

He heard her swallow even harder. Gather herself. ‘One night, Hal. No strings. No dates. One night, show me how good sex feels for everyone else.’

Fuck, fuck, fuck. How could you make your mouth say one thing when your brain really wanted to say something else? Hal couldn’t, so he said nothing at all.

‘I know you don’t want a relationship, and that’s okay because I don’t either.

In fact I think we’d be bloody terrible together.

I’m not asking you for romance, just sex.

God knows why, but when you touch me, I feel more.

More than I’ve ever felt with other men.

’ He felt her shrug, as if it was a mystery to her.

‘My body likes yours, Hal.’ The break in her voice cracked his resolve, reached into the nooks and crannies of him.

She’d moved nearer on the sofa, and he couldn’t move away because he wanted to move towards her instead.

Instinct took the driving seat when she touched his jaw; he turned his mouth and kissed the softness of her palm.

What kind of a man could refuse an offer like that?

One no-strings-attached night with a beautiful, pliant woman?

Especially a woman whose arms had slid around his neck, her lips a breath from his. He didn’t stand a chance.

‘Honey, we talked about this,’ he murmured, trying even as her lips brushed tentatively against his.

‘ You talked about it,’ she sighed, stroking his hair as she opened her mouth a little.

‘It’s a bad idea,’ he said, even as his tongue touched hers, barely there and slow.

He heard her low sigh, felt her body lean into his.

‘You said,’ she whispered, as he moved his arms around her and held her to him.

She fit him all too well, her curves melding into his chest. ‘But this feels too good to be a bad idea.’ Her breathing quickened in his mouth as she sank her teeth into his top lip, licking along it.

‘Just kissing you is better than sex with anyone else.’

‘Honey,’ he breathed, not sure if he was going to say something to stop her or just needed to say her name.

‘Name the night, Hal, and I’m yours. Tomorrow.

Tonight. Right now. Show me. Please?’ She spoke around his kisses, her lips soft and open for him, her tongue sliding over his between her words.

Oh, he wanted so much to say yes, to press her backwards on the sofa and slide her out of her clothes.

He could practically feel her naked beneath him, and she was right.

He could make her body need his so badly that she’d shiver with it, that she’d have no choice but to come for him.

She’d be transcend-fucking-ent, and it’d feel amazing, to be the man who gave her what no other man had ever given her. It was heady; intoxicating.

‘We can’t keep doing this, Honey,’ he managed, holding her face in his hands. ‘Because however much I want to say yes, and you have no fucking idea how much I want to say yes, the truth is that you’re lying to yourself. It wouldn’t be one night.’

‘It would,’ she pressed. ‘Hal, one night. No lies, no promises, no relationship. We don’t even like each other.’

Her words said one thing, and her tone of voice something else.

‘You’re not that kind of girl, Honey.’

‘I could be. With you.’

‘Liar.’

She thumped his leg out of frustration, then grabbed his hand and slammed it flat over her heart.

‘Can you feel my heart banging? You must be able to, because I feel as if I’m going to have a bloody heart attack here.

I haven’t just plucked this out of the air you know.

I’ve been thinking about this ever since the other night.

’ She gulped and carried on. ‘Hal, if you don’t do this one thing for me, I’ll go out there and find someone else who will and it’ll all be your fault.

I’m not even joking. My entire life is up in the air at the moment, and more than half of that is on you.

You’ve woken my body up, and it won’t go back to sleep again until someone sings it a goddamn lullaby!

’ Her voice rose in both volume and octave as she made her impassioned speech, the queen of her own debating society.

‘I want that person to be you, more than anything I want it to be you, but I swear to God, Hal, if not you then it’ll be someone else, and soon. ’

She stopped speaking, finally, and Hal found his hands had moved to grip her shaking shoulders.

‘Don’t do this,’ he said. ‘You don’t mean it.’ Even as he said it he thought that actually, she sounded as if she meant every word.

‘Oh, I do,’ she said hotly. ‘I’ve had a bloody epiphany these last few weeks. Pianists. Campaigns. And you, Hal, you shouting and swearing and kissing me like no one else ever has. Is it so bad that I want you?’

Hal was rarely speechless, but this was one of those times. She was actually serious. Strawberry Girl, his beautiful, crazy neighbour wanted him – or to be precise, she wanted him to teach her how to orgasm.

‘You know how crazy this sounds, right?’ he said, scrubbing his hand over his stubble after a few moments of contemplation.

‘Yes,’ she said. He could hear how much depended on what he said next, so he chose his words with care.

‘Let me think about it, okay? Just promise me you won’t go out there dragging strangers in off the street when you leave here.’

She sniffed. ‘You’re not making this easy on me.’

He was tempted. Of course he was. He missed sex, the intimacy of a warm body against his, the mindless release.

She’d woken his body from its slumber too, but unlike Honey it made him want to run a mile away rather than tumble into bed.

If he gave her what she wanted, he’d be giving himself a fast pass to a place he didn’t want to go.

A place he’d closed the door on, a door he’d had to brace his back against and fling the bolts across to keep it in place.

Opening it was a monumental mistake, but saying no to Honey felt like a mistake too.

He was caught between a rock and a hard place, or in this case a door and a soft, seductive, strawberry-scented place.

He’d come here counting on the hope of making peace with himself, of saving his sanity, of forgetting, of learning to be the man he needed to be. He just hadn’t counted on Honey.

Standing up, he held out his hand and pulled her to her feet. Leading her to his front door, he walked her across the lobby to her own threshold.

‘There. I walked you home. No strange men tonight, okay?’

Her hand still warmed his; she didn’t let go. He felt her body rub against his as she rose on her tip-toes, and tasted the subtle longing in the brush of her mouth against his.

‘You told me that every date should end with a goodnight kiss.’

‘That wasn’t a date.’

‘You made me dinner.’

‘You see? Back there you said no dates. No complications. I told you you couldn’t do it.’

‘I can so. I’m a woman of the world,’ she said, and he felt her small smile against his lips.

Hal had known many worldly women in his life, and Honey wasn’t one of them.

He’d even loved one of those worldly women, and she was one of the many reasons he’d needed to slam that door so tight.

Could he open the door just enough to let Honey in as a temporary guest without being crushed by the stuff that would try to force its way out of there?

The weight of rejection, the heartache, the crush of having it pushed down his throat that he was no longer man enough to be a husband or a father?

He was broken. Broken eyes, broken heart.

He pressed his lips against her forehead. ‘Go to bed, Honey.’

She nodded, a tiny movement. ‘You promise you’ll think about what I’ve said?’

He mirrored her actions, the same small nod. ‘Bed.’

It was only as he closed his door that he put his hand down and discovered his dark glasses lying on the hall table. They were his armour, yet he hadn’t given one single thought to them all evening.