Pitch Imperfect (15 page)

She caught his heated look and smiled. “To hell with Heaverlock.”

And to hell with Rob.
No more thinking about him or wondering about his business trip or if he was sleeping with Sarah. Rob had to remain part of her past, and Damien—well, he was a friend and maybe, just maybe, he would be the first of her short-term lovers. She leaned up and pressed her lips to his, surprising him with her kiss.

He lifted her strap. “No more alcohol for you, young lady.”

“I haven’t had anything more intoxicating than freedom, but if you take me home I’ll remedy that.”

Anjuli kissed him again and this time he responded. Maybe if she tried it enough times she’d start to feel something for him. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Rob leave the room.
Goodbye
. Two notes, F sharp and D flat. She laid her head on Damien’s broad chest, breathing in his light aftershave all the way through Toni Braxton’s “Un-break My Heart.”

“You’re not going to fall asleep on me are you?” Damien teased. “Because then I’d have to do something to wake you up.”

Anjuli glanced at Rob’s table. Sarah looked peeved, scanning the room with a small frown on her face. No doubt when she came to the manor to take her pictures the smug reporter would tell her what Rob had said at breakfast.

“You haven’t taken your eyes off Mrs. Scott’s table all night. Is she okay?” Damien said.

Mac’s plump arms were crossed over her chest. She’d worn a long black skirt that fell below her knees and a simple grey top, buttoned to her neck. Ugh, she looked like a Mother Superior, frowning at them as they danced. Guilt gnawed at Anjuli for her recent neglect, but she’d pretended she didn’t see Mac’s jaunty wave as they were walking in. She would feel like Judas if she kissed her cheek and made another excuse for not phoning her.

Damien sighed. “She’s been staring daggers at me since we got here. I think she disapproves.”

“She thinks you’ll corrupt me.”

A frown. “I didn’t know I was so evil.”

Anjuli lifted her face. “You should talk to her some time. Once she sees how charming you are she’ll forgive you for being the village man-whore.”

Damien stopped dancing. “Man-whore?”

Uh-oh
,
one must be careful when taking off the restraints
,
including those on one’s tongue.
“Mac didn’t say that,
I
did, after we met, but I’ve changed my mind. You’re not the village man-whore, you’re the village ‘oh-man-I-want-more.’”

“I’m going to hold you to that,” Damien said, twirling her again. “So, Mrs. Mackenzie Scott thinks I’m no good, huh? No doubt due to a few mistakes I made when I first moved here. Is she very religious?”

“Church every week and she teaches Sunday school, but she’s not a fanatic. She’s the only person I know who got married at eighteen and is still madly in love with her husband.”

Damien frowned. “And where is Craig tonight? Mrs. Scott has only danced with Rob and Councillor Hamish. The rest of the time she’s been staring at her phone.”

“Why don’t you go find out while I get some fresh air?”

“She doesn’t like me, remember?”

Anjuli lifted her brows mockingly. “A case of the cowardly lion?”

When Mac saw Damien approach and Anjuli change direction she beckoned effusively, making it impossible for her to bypass the table. Sarah was nowhere to be seen.

Mac greeted Damien politely but didn’t ask him to sit. With a roughish look, he pulled out a chair and sat next to her. Reluctantly, Anjuli took the seat on her other side.

Mac shifted away from Damien. “What’s been keeping you too busy to return my calls?”

My sister is having your husband’s child
. “Sanding door frames and stripping wallpaper.” True, but she now had another person for her tally of people she hated lying to.

Mac looked at her watch. “We need to have a proper catch up—soon. But I have to call a cab. Craig’s mum is babysitting and she won’t sleep properly until I get back.”

“Is your husband away?” Damien said.

Her expression iced over. “Craig is coming home on Monday morning.” She turned to Anjuli. “Via Castle Manor, in fact. He still has the paint samples I promised you in his boot so he can drop them off.”

“Please tell him not to bother. Really...don’t put yourselves out.”

“Nonsense, what are friends for? I’ll help you paint when the time comes, too. Rob told me you’re into DIY now, though he doesn’t seem to think you enjoy it.”

He talked about her to Mac? What else did he say? Did he suspect the truth about her bank balance? Anjuli fanned herself with her hand. She couldn’t ask Mac about Rob and she couldn’t continue talking to her as if Ash hadn’t slept with Craig. “I need some air, my face feels like an electric hob.”

“You look beautiful,” Mac said sincerely.

Damien lost his usual flirtatiousness. “So do you, Mrs. Scott.”

Mac sniffed and rolled her eyes at Anjuli as if to say “see what I mean?” “Kissing the Blarney stone, Dr. Mitchell?”

“I meant what I said,” he insisted. “And as for kissing...” Damien waggled his brows at Anjuli. “There’s other things I’d rather kiss.”

Mac drew her brows down, her expression so much like Rob’s that Anjuli had to look away. The only thing more unnerving would be if Ben showed up. She hadn’t seen him since her return to Heaverlock and she dreaded bumping into him. Not that he would be rude. No, never that. It would be worse. He would be perfectly polite and all the while she’d feel those ice-blue eyes mentally ripping her to shreds.

Councillor Hamish tapped the microphone and Anjuli noticed Mrs. P. standing next to him, staring straight at her. Anxiety twisted Anjuli’s gut. How could she have forgotten? A ceilidh in Heaverlock always included local talent, like the high school student walking up to the stage with his fiddle. Unfortunately, people at the surrounding tables weren’t looking at the teenager. They were looking at
her
, murmuring expectantly. An excited buzz worked its way around the room like a Mexican wave and when it reached Anjuli, she jumped up.

“I really do need some air. No, don’t get up, Damien. I’ll only be a few minutes. Stay and talk to Mac.”

“I’ll give Mrs. Scott a ride home and come back for you,” he said, insisting when Mac declined.

Anjuli kissed his cheek and whispered, “Tell her about the charity marathon you did for Save the Children and the homeless bunny you adopted.”

“It was a spider, and my cat tortured it to death.”

* * *

The May night was moonless, with nothing other than the stars to guide Anjuli around the back of the Town Hall except her memory. Five, six, ten paces and then a left turn and she found the dirt path that led to a pine copse. A narrow track cut a line through the trees to the fence that separated the wood from the moors beyond. The hills looked empty, dark, and as endless as sky. Anjuli leaned against the fence and looked into the Milky Way, vast and distant.

Hypnotic.

The smell of pine and heather settled her roiling stomach and the faint breeze eased the heat from her face. Silence amplified her conflicted thoughts. Would she ever feel a part of Heaverlock again or would she always feel like an outsider? Could she find joy in her life in spite of what she had done?

Guilt and hope circled like eternity rings in her thoughts, forever entwined. Anjuli rubbed her arms, regretting she hadn’t thought to bring a wrap. A twig snapped and a tall figure detached itself from the trees behind her.

“Can you find Orion?” Rob asked, walking up to her.

He joined her at the fence and gazed at the sky. His body was silhouetted only by distant stars outlining his profile, half man, half shadow.

Anjuli searched the sky. “Up to the left, ready to strike.”

“A confident hunter.”

“Too bad Virgo’s out of reach.”

His low chuckle rolled over her skin. Anjuli shivered and rubbed her arms, and Rob took off his jacket.

“Thanks, but I’d better get back.”

“To Damien?” he asked sharply. “Do you know what it does to me to see you kiss him?”

A rush of exhilaration swept Anjuli’s heart out of her chest and into space. She dragged herself back to earth. “I think Sarah is looking for you.”

“Jealous?” he said, an indefinable tone in his voice.

“Of course not. I’m just letting you know, being a friend.”

“Friend.”

Rob seemed to taste the word slowly, suggestively, as if he was savouring the texture of each consonant and vowel, melting them on his tongue before sliding them down his throat. Anjuli held her breath. He wasn’t supposed to react like that, as if she’d just handed him a slice of double chocolate gateau oozing rich, succulent caramel.

She cleared her throat. “That’s right, I’d like to think we’re friends, a man and a woman who communicate amiably without bump and grind or hanky-panky. Surely you know what that is?”

“Bump and grind or hanky-panky?”

“I’m not interested in either.”

“Are you sure?” he asked quietly.

Whether it was her reckless mood or Rob’s nearness that rooted her to the spot she didn’t know. She was tired of second-guessing his behaviour, sick of wondering if he was biding his time; watching, waiting, playing with her until he was ready to strike. Exhausted by trying to erase him from her heart.

“I don’t understand you,” she said. “One minute you’re all about having sex, telling me it’s inevitable I’ll fall into bed with you, and the next you barely acknowledge me. You never stay long at Castle Manor, you don’t talk to me at the pub and you communicate only via email. I didn’t even know you were going out of town until Connor told me this morning.”

Rob contemplated her as fixedly as he had the sky and—hold on a bloody minute, was that a
smile
on his face?

“Tomorrow morning I’m going to London. I’ve got a few meetings to attend, and then I’m flying to the States on Monday night,” he said, and when her eyes widened, he shifted his gaze to the moors. “It’s for business. I emailed you about it last Wednesday, underneath the list of supplies being delivered this morning.”

Oh. She’d skimmed the list and run out, late for her shift.

“Connor’s more than capable of finishing the walls and conservatory while I’m away. He can also show the Planning Officer around, as I mentioned. But I can tell you what my movements are in the next few weeks...if you want.”

“What do
you
want?” she asked heatedly. “You haven’t taken your eyes off me all night, but you haven’t spoken to me either. You came to the ceilidh with Sarah, yet you don’t want me to kiss Damien.”

No response.

“Oh, I get it,” she said sarcastically. “You’re sleeping with the lovely Sarah Brunel and you want to mess with my head, not my body, is that it? Sex with the ex is off the menu because you’ve got a new screw.”

Oh God, had she really said that? Alone with him under a starry sky and she turned into a jealous shrew? The words hovered between them. She couldn’t take them back and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to.

Rob pushed his hands off the fence so hard it shook. “Damn it, lass, of course I want sex. I want it the second I see you walk into a room, the minute you open your mouth and every time you look at me like you are now.”

Chapter Twelve

Rob grabbed her shoulders and turned her to face him. “That night in London is branded into my mind,” he said raggedly. “As is every other time we’ve made love. When I go to bed I shut my eyes and see your face, your lips, your body. Do you know how angry that makes me? How hard it is to know you used me?”

“So you want revenge?” she cried. “You want to treat me like a sex toy because that’s what I did to you and then we’re even? Okay, fine, go ahead and do it.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. You won’t stop tormenting me until you prove your manhood and I—what was it you said? Until I begged for it. So c’mon, let’s
fuck.
See? I’m begging just like you wanted. Right here, right now. Let’s do it. There’s a bunch of trees between us and the village and nothing around for miles. Get your revenge. Fuck me and dump me and then for God’s sake. Leave. Me. Alone.”

Rob’s voice vibrated like a piano string, pulled too tightly. “I don’t want revenge. And I don’t want to fuck you and dump you.”

“Well, what else then?” she said.

Silence.

“D-don’t look at me like that.”

His voice deepened with frustration. “You don’t want me to look at you? Well, I can’t stop. I’ve wanted to take you into my arms the minute you arrived, but if I said your casual attitude toward sex doesn’t bother me or your callousness doesn’t boil my blood, I’d be lying.

“But every time I remember who you used to be, every time I see flashes of the Anjuli I fell in love with—determined and enthusiastic, loving and compassionate, a woman who never stopped sending roses to Jamie’s fort because she won’t forget a friend—it wipes those angry, bitter thoughts from my mind.”

“Mac shouldn’t have told you that was me.”

“She didn’t have to. I found them every year, sitting right where Jamie used to write his poems. One year I caught the courier and he told me the order had come from New York. Another time it was from Tokyo.” Rob’s tone became contemplative. Probing. “I ask myself why someone who would remember Jamie even while she was busy touring the world would turn into the selfish, destructive woman I saw in London. Cruelty used to be as foreign to you as arrogance.

“Something changed you and it wasn’t fame and fortune. What happened? Why did you disappear for so long and suddenly move back to Heaverlock? Is your ex-husband the reason you lost yourself, the reason your eyes are so lifeless?”

She had dead eyes?

Anjuli hoped it was too dark for Rob to see her face. The desire to confide in him, to tell him everything that had happened to her was almost overpowering. Almost. She couldn’t do that, but at least she could tell him the truth about London.

“I lied to you that night,” she said quietly. “I could never think of another man while you made love to me. I wanted you, badly, and then I wanted you to leave me alone. I still do.”

“Why?”

Why
,
why
,
why.
The words wouldn’t let her be. Anjuli’s throat dried painfully and she couldn’t speak, eyes shut and head bowed.

Because I killed my daughter.

What would Rob say if he knew that? Would he condemn her, or parrot meaningless platitudes?
It wasn’t your fault.
You couldn’t foresee what happened.
There was nothing you could have done.
Oh, she may not have lifted a hand to hurt her baby, but Chloe was dead because of her all the same.

How many times would she relive that terrible night, knowing that one selfish decision had sealed her daughter’s fate? Chloe would never learn to read, play games or sing. She would never have friends or travel the world; never love a man or have his children. All because of her. Anjuli backed away. She couldn’t allow herself another minute, another second in Rob’s company.

Rob’s quick reflexes stopped her flight. He grabbed her hand, raised her calloused palm and pressed a kiss into the centre—a single touch that spread through her body like a balm. The ache inside her eased a little, then dug deeper, more so when he folded her fingers over the lambent spot, encasing her hand in his.

“Talk to me, lass. Tell me why you turned me away in London. Why did you disappear for so long and why don’t you sing anymore?”

Anjuli pulled her hand away. “There’s nothing to tell.”

“You’re lying.”

“And you know that how, exactly?”

“Because I think you’re still the woman I used to love.”

She hardened her voice. “I’m the woman who was a complete bitch to you in London, the one who humiliated you eight years ago, remember? I left you at the altar and didn’t come back until now. But I guess that didn’t hurt enough for you to leave me alone.”

A deep breath he let out slowly. “It hurt more than you’ll ever know,” he said, without the rancour she expected. “But I was partly to blame. I’ve had a lot of time to think since you left, and to reflect on where I went wrong. If I could I would go back and do things differently, and if you so much as tried to leave me I would chain you to my bed and fuck you senseless. Just like I should’ve done in London.”

Anjuli’s jaw dropped. She didn’t have time to snap it shut because Rob did it for her, covering her mouth with his. If there had been any violence in him, any arrogance or domination, she would have fought him tooth and nail. But he stroked her tongue with slow, deliberate sensuality and oh, God, he was good at that. His kiss was filled with a longing to match hers and responding to it was as instinctive as breathing.

She couldn’t move or protest. The irresistible pressure of his lips, the tantalising stroke of his tongue. The taste of his mouth. They all combined to create a kiss that sighed its way through her barriers. A kiss that claimed her, heart and soul.

His mouth left hers for the madly pumping vein at her neck and his jaw scraped her skin. Her thighs flooded with heat and trembled, and when she gripped his arms to steady herself she realised that he was trembling also, that the heart underneath her palm was in tune with hers.

Anjuli’s mind trilled with guilt, but her body thrummed its own song, coming alive under the hands sliding up her torso. Her flimsy strap proved no match for Rob’s swift tug. It slipped down her shoulder, followed by the slide of silky fabric against her rigid nipple and cold breeze on her skin. Rob’s breath caught as her firm, heavy breast filled his hand, and his careful control gave way to a carnal caress. She tried to tell him to stop, to let her go because she didn’t want this, and moaned into his mouth. He answered her, pressing her into the fence with his hips.

Slightly calloused fingers circled the taut flesh around her nipple until it puckered and strained for his touch. She sank into him, wanting more. He gave it to her, blanketing her aching breast with his hot, wet mouth. He tasted her hungrily. Possessively. Grazing her with his teeth and leaving her in no doubt of what he wanted.

Anjuli’s back arched and her pussy swelled with wet, pulsing need. Her head went back and when she opened her eyes Orion looked down at her, aiming for his target. Rob’s hand stroked her naked thigh, slender fingers reaching under the thin strip of her thong and then she just stopped thinking.

* * *

God
,
she’s gorgeous
. Rob cupped Anjuli’s head and drew her lips back to his, not wanting to give her the chance to ask him to stop. She belonged in his arms, trembling with need and desire. Giving herself to him and taking everything he had in return. She was gasping into him. Responsive. Her nipples rigid and hot as he licked and kissed and sucked. Her sounds of delight sent an answering thrill straight to his groin.

As always when he wore a kilt, he was commando. Her moan showed she could feel how much he wanted her, her gyrating hips that she was far from indifferent. The knowledge spiked his hunger, pumping more blood to his stone-hard shaft. He wanted to make love to her like she had dared him to. Here. Now. He was so aroused he didn’t care where he was or who happened by. Lust pumped through his veins, but it was joy that fed his desire, fanning it until he felt like he would burst.

Anjuli had lied to him in London! He’d suspected—no, known—it but hearing her say she hadn’t fantasised about her ex while he made love to her released the last of his doubts about her need for him. She didn’t want Brendan and she didn’t want Damien, either. He would know if she had given her heart away.
He
was the man she was kissing with abandon. She might not love him anymore, but she still had feelings for him that went beyond casual sex. He could hear it in her voice and feel it in her kiss.

He’d tried to stay away. God, how he’d struggled to quash his yearning for her, to tell himself he wanted only to get her back into bed. But convincing himself he didn’t love her had become impossible the second she had kissed Damien.

Watching Anjuli dance with the womanising vet had been torture, but seeing them kiss had split his chest open like a chunk of wood on the block. Then she’d laughed and her eyes had sparkled—sparkled, God damn it—as Damien whirled her around the floor.
He
wanted to be the man bringing out her smile and making her happy.

Making her come.

There was only one woman for him and there always had been. Other men might scoff at his single-mindedness. Tell him he belonged on another planet for not taking what both Sarah Brunel and Penny Jameson had offered him tonight. They could go right ahead. What he and Anjuli could have again—both of them changed, yet the same in ways that mattered—was worth fighting for.

He would swallow his pride and tell Anjuli why he hadn’t answered her letters. Tell her how much he’d missed her and how no other woman had been able to fill the void she’d left behind. And then he would convince her to give them another chance and make love to her.

He would
listen
to her and give her whatever she needed to be happy. Pleasure her and love her until she was lax and satiated against him. And if they didn’t stop, it would happen right here under the stars.

“Come home with me,” Rob said thickly.

His voice seemed to break the spell. Anjuli’s body became rigid. With an anguished cry, she thrust him away and adjusted her dress, her hands shaking. Rob reached for her and she jumped back, stumbling in her haste to avoid his touch.

“Don’t touch me.”

Bloody hell, was she afraid of him? What the
fuck
had that bastard of a husband done to her? Impotent rage fisted his hands as he imagined the rock star abusing her. By all accounts B. R. Kavon was a violent man, regardless of what Anjuli had told him. Rob made his voice calm and quiet.

“I’ll drive you home. We can talk, get to know each other again and take all the time we need. God knows I want you, lass, but I’ll wait until you’re ready.”

Anjuli made a garbled sound. “Can you wait forever? Because I’m not free to love you and I never will be, don’t you understand? I can’t. I just...can’t.”

“Tell me what’s wrong and I’ll—”

“You can’t fix it! Nobody can. That’s the reason—”

“Anjuli!”

Viking came crashing out of the trees like a wild boar, heading straight for Anjuli. Worry made his Polish accent thicker.

“Ambulance take Ash to hospital.”

“I’ll get my handbag,” she said, pivoting so quickly her heel caught in the grass. She toppled away from Rob and he reached for her, but Viking was quicker. He threw her over his massive shoulders as if she were a dishtowel.

“We go now.”

Anjuli squeaked, pulling her dress down over her bottom as Viking raced back through the trees. A small crowd had gathered in front of the Town Hall, and they watched as Viking ran across the village green with a bouncing Anjuli over his shoulders.

“That’s what I should have done,” Rob muttered.

* * *

“I never thought Viking would be the one to get your knickers in a twist, Babes.”

Anjuli looked at Ash’s hospital room doorway, where Viking stood, sentry-like. “The entire village now knows I wear thongs,” she whispered. “He’s ruined my mystique.”

Ash’s wan smile filled her with overwhelming relief. She checked the monitor next to the bed and tucked the sheet around her frame. No longer showing only a bump, her sister was in the third-trimester growth spurt. “Don’t you dare start fussing over me,” Ash warned. “I’ve already got an overprotective watchdog sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“Doesn’t it?” Anjuli asked, lifting her brows. On the way to the hospital Viking had been polite but stern, laying out the guidelines for her behaviour once they arrived: no frantic questions or panicked overreacting. As if she would! Well, maybe a little. But Viking was right, she had to hold it together and rein in her fears. And, she’d added silently, she had to remember that Ash wasn’t Chloe. She studied Viking’s tense back.

“He’s got it bad,” she said.

Ash followed her gaze and pursed her lips. “Well, he can take it back to Krakow and feed it borscht, because I’m not giving him what he wants.”

“Are you sure you can’t fancy him?”

“Hello? Is your brain frozen as well as your voice? I’m pregnant with another man’s child.”

“I don’t think it matters to Viking. What’s his real name, anyway?”

“Andrzej Weicwn...domsky...kowsky, or something. It ends in ‘sky,’ and won’t double-barrel with Ashton Pelham Carver.”

“I think he’d like it to.”

“Not after what I did with Craig.”

Anjuli glanced at the blood pressure monitor again. “You should tell Craig you’ve got pre-eclampsia. He may want to be at the birth in case—” she forced herself to continue, “—anything happens.”

“I don’t give a rat’s arse what Craig wants. He’s never expressed an interest and I don’t want him to. If anything happens to me you said you’d be there for the baby.”

“But—”

Ash clutched her arm. “You promised! Don’t you dare renege, because I’ll haunt you from the grave.”

“I won’t,” Anjuli assured her, pushing down her panic. She had to act like the older sister she was and not the frightened, fragile woman she usually felt like. The thought of being responsible for another child filled her with dread but that was for her to know and Ash to stay tranquilly unaware of.