IN BED WITH THE BOSS

With Scott it had never been more than what they had today. And while that made her appreciate what she had got, it also made her long for what she had not. Commitment-and that was one thing she would never get from him.

“I’ll sleep next door for the time being. I think you need a little space,” she said lightly.

And so did she.

He pulled a face of objection, but he was too tired to object too much. He lay down on the bed and it felt like heaven.

“Okay,” he yawned. “If you say so.”

But within a couple of weeks he began to show very definite signs of improvement-physically, at least. The sleep showed in the renewed brightening of his eyes and the familiar healthy glow of his skin. Often they took him outside, to sit in the restorative sunshine and to sit quietly in the haven which Felicia’s garden provided. He was eating proper meals, too-the freshest, most delicious food that Felicia and sometimes Vivian could conjure up.

She put two plates of salmon down on the table one evening and a dish of new potatoes, and crunchy, bright green mangetout.

Scott smiled. “Mmm. Who cooked this?” he asked.

“I did.”

“It’s delicious,” he said slowly.

She looked up from spooning a potato onto her plate. “You flatter me, but thank you” she said calmly.

“But I’m not flattering you. I do like it. Did you use to cook for me… you know… before the accident?”

“That’s right. I liked to, actually.”

She knew and he knew that they weren’t in the remotest bit interested in her culinary conversion. This was a scent on the trail to recall. A trail that she yearned to complete and yet dreaded at the same time.

“You did?”

“Uh-huh.”

He stared at her, thinking how exquisitely pure the black dress she was wearing made her look.

“We were very… close….”

She nodded her head. “Yes, we were. I guess I was grateful. You… Urmmm…you contributed a lot to my life. Gave me a chance to work at your company even when you didn’t have to.”

He nodded, digesting this. “Vivian” he said suddenly, and something in his voice made her go very still.

“Yes, Scott?”

“Just how do I know you?”

————

Vivian put the spoon down with a hand which had suddenly began to tremble and stared at Scott .

“How do I know you?” he repeated.

The doctor had told her this might happen; she was only surprised that it hadn’t happened sooner. He had said that Scott’s mind might naturally fill in some or all of the gaps by itself. Or that he might require assistance to do so.

The challenge was going to be telling him the truth.

In confronting reality, however painful. For she was astute enough to recognise that by telling him this particular story, she would automatically give away a lot of her own feelings, if she was going to be brutally honest. And that might frighten him.

“We met in a hotel room. Yours to be precise. I was a waitress at a party you attended” she said succinctly.

“How long ago?” he shot out.

She frowned. “Almost nine months ago,” she said.

Heavens above-was it really that long? And how ironic. It was longer than she had realized and yet it also seemed a ridiculously short time. But a human embryo could grow into a full and sustainable life in exactly that time.

Now it was his turn to frown. “Go on”

“I was working at a cheesecake shop then and I needed a better job.” she explained slowly. “I found out about you, so I found a way to get a job as a waitress at that party because I knew you’d be attending.”

She stopped talking. ‘Keep nothing back,’ the doctor had urged.

‘But what if it’s painful?’ had been her response.

‘The past often is, Miss Sanchez. So is life. Protect against pain and there is no growth. And without growth, we die.’

So she went on. “After the party, I snuck into your room and you found me there. I told you what I wanted, but there was no opening at your office so you couldn’t help me. But you called me back some days ago after your assistant quit and you gave me the job.”

“So I was inappropriate with you in the workplace?” he asked.

Vivian’s eyes widened, “What?”

“Well, if you were my assistant, how did we become a couple? I was an asshole, right?”

“No, you weren’t Scott. You never forced me to do anything. Everything that happened, happened because I wanted it to…. Al… Although… we’re…”

“What?”

“We ended things, Scott.”

Scott stared at her in silence. The felt curtain which was blocking recall now blew gently as a dark wind began to whisper across his mind. He was taken back to the day of that call…. When she told him she couldn’t be with him anymore…. She wasn’t coming back. She was gone. Gone and taken something with her.

Scott flinched and stared at her, his eyes dark with pain. “I remember,” he said slowly. “I remember. I was hurt. I felt empty.” There was a long, raw pause. “Like I’d lost a part of me”

She heard the finality in his voice and moved so that she was close enough to touch him, close enough to grip his forearm as if willing him to bring it all back to mind. “You remember? But what else do you remember, Scott? What else?”

He shook his head. It was like swimming in cloudy water. Sometimes the light appeared on the surface, but then once again the mud obscured it. He stared into her eyes and let his gaze travel down to lips as soft and as luscious as ripe strawberries.

And suddenly he did not want the past-he wanted the present, with all its infinitely more pleasurable associations. Why elect for pain when this beautiful woman was touching him, reminding him with dizzying recall just how wonderful pleasure could be? And just why had he ended his relationship with such a beautiful, amazingly woman?

“Kiss me, Vivian,” he said softly.

She shook her head. “Not now. It’s too soon.”

“Kiss me,” he repeated, and something of his old mastery returned.

She moved her face closer, frozen in that position for one breathtaking moment, their eyes locked in glittering question. At that moment she had never felt closer to him.

“Now,” he murmured.

She lowered her lips onto his. A tender brush which became a tiny kiss. She felt his sigh warm against her and their lips parted by a fraction, melding in a sweet, exploratory kiss which felt like two teenagers trying one out for the first time.

It felt as if she had never really kissed him before, Vivian thought with a jolt, and her breath quickened.

He reached his hand up to touch her neck, wonderingly, as if he had never felt skin before, but in a way he hadn’t. His senses had needed to die in that coma to spring to life as never before. The heavy throb of desire beat its silken heat in his blood, but for once there was no urgency to consummate. He wanted to make this last all night.

He drew his mouth away. “Let’s go to bed.”

She shook her head, her heart thundering. “We can’t… Your mother.”

“I’m an adult, Vivian. I don’t think she’d mind”

“You aren’t well enough.” she insisted.

“Says who?”

“I don’t know what the doctor would say-”

“Damn the doctor!” He scraped his chair back and took her hand.

“Scott, we mustn’t.”

“Vivian,” he said simply.

“We can’t not.” She felt her cheeks flame, for the words seemed like an avowal of something she had long hoped for, until she reminded herself that they weren’t. They were a declaration of fact. And of intent. His body and his mind had been very nearly lifeless, and now they wanted to celebrate life itself in the most basic way possible. Just as his hunger had returned to help him heal, so too had another, different kind of hunger.

“Okay,” she agreed softly. “Bed it is.”

She felt as shy as a virgin bride on her wedding night as he took her by the hand and led her upstairs, walking like a man who had never known a day’s sickness in his life, let alone one whose life had, just a few weeks earlier, been hanging on by a thread.

The bedroom door closed behind them, Scott took her into his arms, bending his head so that his mouth was very close to hers. “What do you like me to do best?” he asked softly.

“Kiss me,” she murmured.

He needed no second bidding, groaning as he sweetly plundered her lips, on and on and on, as if the kiss were a fountain of life and he were drinking greedily from it.

And only when she felt as if he had sucked her dry did he draw down the zip of her dress, letting it fall into a pool of rich, dark velvet onto the ground.