Too Charming (12 page)

Then, closing his eyes, he drifted back to sleep.

Chapter Twelve

‘You n
ever did tell me how your date with the attractive lawyer went,’ Megan’s mother remarked as she and her parents sat in the lounge the following evening.

The glow from the fire – not really necessary with the warm spring weather, but appreciated all the same – and the knowledge that Sally was a million times better tonight, thanks to sleeping most of the day, had relaxed Megan so much that the question took her off guard. ‘Really well,’ she replied unthinkingly before catching the dart of satisfaction in her mother’s eye. Damn. Now, if she wasn’t careful, Mum would be buying the hat and planning the wedding.

‘He seems pretty solid.’ That was praise indeed from her far more protective father.

Though in Megan’s eyes the jury was still out on the term solid, she had to admit that last night had gone a long way towards changing her opinion of Scott Armstrong. How many other men would have bothered to hang around when they knew there was nothing left in the evening for them? It had been almost four in the morning before the hospital had found Sally a private room and she’d been able to sleep on the put-up bed next to her. Only then had Scott, crumpled and stiff from dozing upright on the hard hospital seats, made his way home.

‘He certainly came up trumps last night,’ she agreed, though the cynical side of her, the side hardened by previous experience, still worried that Scott was simply skilfully manipulating her into his bed. Which didn’t mean to say she couldn’t enjoy that. As long as she did so with her eyes wide open. ‘I think I’m going to see him again.’

Her mother was trying hard not to look smug. ‘I’m glad,’ was all she said.

For some reason, Megan felt the need to justify her previous doubts. ‘Of course everything I said before is still true. Sally’s at a vulnerable age. One where she’ll be inclined to see a prospective father in any man she comes across. I don’t want her forming an attachment to a man who has no intention of being a permanent part of our lives. Frankly, it’s the last thing I need, too.’

‘But you still need to live,’ her mother added firmly. ‘If you don’t stick your neck out now and again and take a risk, it makes for a very dull life. One filled with
might have beens
.’

‘I agree it’s time for me to unbend a little,’ she conceded, picking at a piece of stray fluff on her jumper. ‘Plus, Sally’s already infatuated with Scott, so it seems stupid to keep fighting the inevitable. As long as I’m careful and have no higher expectations than having a good time, it should be possible to enjoy his company without me getting hurt.’

The sound of the phone ringing interrupted any further conversation, much to Megan’s relief. Talking about matters of the heart was always hard for her, whoever it was with. Even her darling mum. Putting her mug down on the coffee table, she went to answer it.

‘Ah, the delicious Detective.’

‘Scott.’ The sensible part of her knew he was merely being an outrageous flirt. Another side of her seemed to turn into a giant marshmallow at his words.

‘I was phoning to check up on Sally. How is she doing?’

His question took her by surprise, though it shouldn’t have; he’d spent the better part of last night in the hospital, waiting for news on her. ‘She’s much better thanks. Slept most of today, but she was almost back to her old self this evening.’

‘Good.’ There was a pause. ‘And how are you? Recovered from spending most of the night in my arms?’

That was more what she’d expected to hear from him. He could turn the charm on like a switch: a slightly lower voice, husky overtone, suggestive words. It all combined to cause an answering flash of heat deep within her. Worried that her parents might be able to read her reaction, she turned to face the wall. ‘I’m a bit tired, but grateful she’s okay,’ she replied, endeavouring to keep her reply neutral. ‘How about you? Did you manage to get some sleep?’

A deep chuckle drifted back down the phone to her. ‘No, I can’t say I did. I kept picturing you as you were in the car park, only this time with me properly inside you. An unbelievably hot image, but it didn’t do much to help me sleep.’

Oh God. Her breath caught in her throat. How was she supposed to reply to
that
? Especially with her parents in the same room. ‘I—well—umm.’ She gave up.

He laughed into the silence. ‘Hey, at last I’ve rendered you speechless. I didn’t
realise all it took was some dirty talk. I’ll have to try that again. So, while the platform’s mine, so to speak, I’ll take the opportunity to ask if you’re doing anything tomorrow.’

‘Evening?’

‘Well, no, I had the daytime in mind, but we can include the evening too, if you’re free.’

‘I …’ Irritatingly, she was floundering again. Was she now on the verge of spending all of Saturday with him?
Day and evening? Lawyers. They tied a person up in knots, getting them to agree to things before they had a chance to work out what it was.

‘Excellent. I figured a trip to the seaside might work. Forecast says it’s going to be a lovely day. A bit of sea air should finish Sally’s rehabilitation off nicely.’

‘You’re asking
both
of us?’

‘Sure. I thought Sally might enjoy a trip to the pier. I presume, knowing her mother, that she’s not afraid of the rides.’

The man really did leave her tongue-tied. He was calmly planning a whole day with them by the sea, as if taking a child on fairground rides was a perfectly normal way for him to spend his weekend. ‘Are you certain this is what you want to do?’ she asked bluntly.

‘Why wouldn’t it be?’ Now his smooth voice carried an edge of irritation.

‘Look, Scott, it’s a really kind offer, but really, you don’t have to plan a day for Sally. You and I can see each other in the evening, if you like.’

There was a long pause, during which she heard his deep sigh. ‘Megan, I enjoy Sally’s company. And yours. What’s wrong with wanting to spend some time with both of you, together?’

‘Well, nothing, but …’

‘You still think I’m a heartless bastard who’s only interested in your daughter so that I can get to you.’ Over the last minute his voice had gone from irritated to downright
annoyed. ‘In your view of the world I’m going to toy with you both and then ditch you as soon as I’ve had what I want.’

Ouch, when he put it like that, it sounded cruel. Whatever else he might be, he wasn’t that. ‘No, I don’t think you’re after me through Sally.’ She really didn’t. Not now. Any man with half a brain could see he didn’t need to befriend her daughter to get her into bed. She was there already. It was no longer a matter of if, but when.

‘Good. I’ll pick you up around eleven.’

Slowly Scott put down the phone and reached for his bottle of beer, gulping the rest down in one go. When he’d finished he wiped a hand across his mouth and swore eloquently. The woman was driving him nuts. Oh, to be attracted to an easy-to-read woman who was soft and pliable, not opinionated and stubborn. One who actually thought he was a decent bloke, not some slimy lowlife who got kicks from manipulating women. Sure, she’d denied she thought he was using Sally to get to her. At least he might have convinced her on that one. She hadn’t refuted the rest though. The words
of course I don’t think you’re a heartless bastard
definitely hadn’t been uttered. Running a hand through his hair in frustration, he was forced to concede it didn’t seem to matter. Whatever she thought of him, there was no getting away from the fact that he couldn’t get her out of his head.

Irritated with her and with himself, he yanked another beer out of the fridge and flipped off the top. Maybe, if he drank a few more of these, her opinion wouldn’t hurt so much.

The phone rang as he was tackling his third bottle. Snatching it up, he barked into the receiver. ‘Armstrong.’

There was silence.
Just the faintest sound of someone breathing.

‘Hello?’

Then he heard it. The soft, heartbreaking sound of crying. ‘Mum? Is that you?’

The sobs continued and he fought his instincts to throw the phone against the wall. God, he was already feeling good and sorry for himself as it was. He didn’t need a call from his mother to ice that particular cake. Then again, he reminded himself as he clutched the receiver tightly in his hands, at least now he knew she was alive. It was a step up from yesterday. And at least she was trying to contact him. What he needed to do now was tread cautiously. Coax her into talking to him, not yell and scare her off.

‘Mum, please, are you okay?’ he asked with what he thought was pretty admirable control. ‘Where are you?’ His questions were met with silence. ‘Can I come and get you?’

‘No, I’m fine,’ she finally replied, her voice croaky and slightly slurred.

‘Let me know where you are, please.’ He’d beg, if that’s what it took.

He heard sniffing, then a deep breath. ‘I can’t. I don’t want you to find me. I don’t want you to see me like this.’

Slumping down on to the sofa, he shut his eyes, rubbing his free hand across his face. Christ. ‘Have you been drinking again?’

‘Yes.’ It was the faintest of replies, but enough to make his heart sink.

‘Mum, I thought this time you were going to really try.’ The last time he’d seen her, he’d checked her into a rehabilitation clinic. That had been two months ago.

‘I’m not strong like you,’ she mumbled. ‘I can’t do it.’

‘You are strong, Mum.’ God knows, she had been – until alcohol had sucked all that strength from her. ‘You’ve had a lot to put up with. Stuff that would have sunk most women.’ He took in a deep breath, tried another tactic. ‘I’ve met someone, Mum. Another strong lady. I think you’d like her.’ Not that the two would ever meet. He’d make sure of that. He loved his mother from the bottom of his heart, but she represented a part of his life that he wanted to keep hidden. At least until he could convince Megan that he wasn’t the man she thought him to be. Turning up with an alcoholic mother wasn’t going to help his case.

‘That’s good.’ A few more sniffles and then the sounds of fresh weeping. ‘You’re a good son, Scott. I’ll make sure I keep out of your way.’

‘No,’ he replied sharply. ‘That’s not what I want. I want you here, with me, so I can look after you. Please, come home.’

‘I can’t, Scott.’

The line went dead. Letting out a long, deep sigh of frustration Scott carefully put down the phone, his eyes resting on the half-drunk bottle of beer sitting on the coffee table in front of him. Suddenly the thought of it made him sick. Grabbing it, he marched to the kitchen and drained the rest down the sink.

When she’d put down the phone, Cathy Armstrong put her head in her arms and wept. She cried for the life she’d once had but could never get back. For the husband who was no longer with her. For the son she loved more than anything, but was too ashamed to go and see. Raising her head she scrutinised her face in the mirror. Haggard, pale, far older than her years. She was a wreck, and she knew it. She’d tried, God knows she’d tried, but she couldn’t seem to get beyond the thought of another drink. Nothing else in her life seemed to matter enough. Not even her son, which was an awful thing to have to admit to. Certainly not her self-respect. That was something she’d lost many years ago. Once she’d been a proud woman, married to a proud man. Now she was just pathetically grateful to have found a lover who not only didn’t knock her around, but who seemed to understand her need to drink. Better even than that, Reg had introduced her to tablets. The drink helped her to function, but the tablets actually deadened the pain. Sometimes they even made her want to smile.

As she continued to study her gaunt image in the mirror, Cathy acknowledged that if Scott could see her now, he would be distraught.
Distraught and utterly ashamed. And who could blame him? He was an important man. A barrister. There was no way he’d want his alcoholic mother to lurch back into his life, as she had been doing off and on over the last few years. Certainly he wouldn’t want anything to do with the woman that looked back at her now. She would be an embarrassment. The very last thing Cathy wanted was to shame her son any further.

‘Cathy, you up there?’

It was Reg. Reg with his expanding waistline, thinning hair and sometimes rather cold, hard eyes. Eyes that she managed to ignore when he was pouring her another drink.

‘Why don’t you come down here,’ he was shouting up at her. ‘I’ve got you something that’ll
perk you up, my darlin’.’

Cathy picked up a brush and straightened out her limp, dyed-blonde hair. Then she powdered her nose, rubbed some blusher into her too-pale cheeks and followed his voice downstairs, her mind already anticipating the buzz she might get from whatever it was he was going to give her. In her heart she knew that she was degrading herself even further by turning to drugs. They might only be soft drugs at the moment, but she had a feeling it was only a matter of time before she’d be begging for something harder. It didn’t seem to matter what her heart was saying though, her head needed the pick-me-up that only chemicals could provide. Cathy Armstrong was in a long, dark, deadly tunnel. One she’d lost the will to find her way out of.