The place Adam suggested they meet was a bar in a commercial area of the city. While the area was considered by some to be an up-and-coming annex to the more fashionable business district, it appeared she was not required to dress up for the occasion. On the contrary, his instructions were to treat the booking as little more than a casual drink between friends.
She was confused. What was he expecting, that she turn up in jeans and a sweatshirt?
“He probably means leave the glitz and glamour at home,” Maddie had suggested, trying to be helpful.
“Hmm. Oh well. There’s always a new kink in this job,” Anna shot back. Surprisingly, she was already feeling better.
“Really?” Maddie was laughing. “You mean we haven’t heard them all yet?”
“No chance!”
She settled on tapered black pants and ankle boots. Admittedly they still had a heel, but unless he wanted to go tramping in the woods they should be fine.
She’d been sliding hangers from one side of the wardrobe to the other, searching for a suitable top. Tramping in the woods? At night? Where had that thought come from? They were meeting in the city, for God’s sake, and the nearest rural area was a good drive away.
Somewhat morbidly, her imagination refused to give up on the idea. She pictured being dragged through suffocatingly dank and dark undergrowth. Unnaturally shaped tree trunks loomed up ahead. Low-slung branches dangled across the path to catch her unawares. It was the stuff of nightmares and one too many horror films.
She gave herself a mental shake. Did she really believe he was out to do her harm after all this time? Of course not! She needed to relax, calm down. She had made the move towards him. He had replied to her invitation and booked her time, openly and above board.
She sat on the bed for a moment.
Okay, so maybe he had the right to be a little angry with her. After all, she had let him down. She hadn’t even had the decency to explain. She’d just been a no-show, and her behaviour certainly didn’t put her in a good light.
She hoped he’d put that all behind him. If he hadn’t, she might be in for a very uncomfortable evening.
Adam was at the bar, nursing a tall glass of beer when she arrived. Thankfully the place wasn’t overly full, leaving her to assume most of the after-work drinkers had gone home, while those looking for late night excitement hadn’t yet turned up.
As if sensing her presence, he glanced up and she caught her breath. Nearly a year, and it could have been yesterday.
To describe him as attractive was to do him a disservice. He was dangerous, compelling. Masculine rather than handsome. His eyes were still dark and fathomless, and his hair as short as ever. Even the evidence of a long ago broken nose continued to work in his favour, since it gave the impression he might have once relished unsafe pursuits.
He had. Not long after they’d met she asked about the injury. He told her it was a long time ago, when he was young and foolish. He’d become involved in an argument, that was all.
“A fight!” She had laughed and shook her head as if in disapproval. “Over money or a woman?”
“Both.”
“And the scar?” She had lightly touched the whitened line above his jaw.
“A sailing accident.”
Even now, she was not sure she believed him.
A table of young execs—ties undone, suit jackets hanging on the back of their chairs—looked up as she passed.
She hoped she appeared more confident than she felt. What was the etiquette for such a meeting? Would Adam welcome her by sliding an arm around her waist, or would that be too intimate? Perhaps he would place a hand lightly on her shoulder instead.
And what about her? Should she lean in, offer her cheek for a polite kiss? They had a history of intimacy, after all.
He solved the problem by smiling broadly and pulling out a tall stool for her.
“You look great,” he said admiringly.
“So do you.” She meant it. He’d always worn a lot of black, and the ebony cashmere sweater and long trench coat suited him.
“So, how are you?” She perched cautiously on the stool, crossing one leg over the other.
“Good. You?” He was still smiling and shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe she was there.
“Same.”
Any enthusiasm she might have had for the meeting was disappearing fast. She hoped this was not to be the way the evening went. Awkward conversation skirting the true purpose of their meeting.
He was indicating the rows of bottles displayed behind the bar. “What would you like?”
A stiff drink appealed, but he didn’t need to know that.
“A glass of white wine. Sauvignon blanc.”
“You surprise me.”
“Really?”
“I was expecting Champagne.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “Am I so predictable?”
The moment the words were out of her mouth she regretted them.
“I would say you are the least predictable person I know,” he said calmly.
She looked away. The barb was well deserved.
Waiting for the barman to complete their order, he asked what was new in her life.
“Not a lot,” she replied. Then asked the same of him.
The stilted talk continued. He wondered if she were hungry. She wasn’t. She asked about Europe, hoping he wouldn’t use it as a way to segue to the fact that she’d been supposed to go with him. He didn’t. Instead he talked knowledgeably about old-world towns and of deep-rooted conservatism meshing with cosmopolitan modernity. At any given moment, he suggested, it was hard to know where you were.
She found herself laughing in the right places and commiserating in others. She also knew she was hearing the sanitized version of the last ten months, but that was fine too.
Surprised how well they seemed to be getting along, she felt she could be upfront and remove any illusion they might rekindle their old relationship. That was simply not going to happen.
She began talking of finding her feet, of having a positive direction, and end goals. She was just getting into her stride when he interrupted her, asking if she played eight ball.
Stopped mid-flow, she felt her brow crease. “Eight ball? As in the game?”
He nodded towards the table at the back of the room.
She shrugged. “I have, but I can’t say I’m any good. Why?”
“Let’s play.”
It seemed a lifetime ago that Jake had taught her the rules. He’d been an accomplished player, and they’d often used the tables at the social club he and other members of the fire crew had called home. But that didn’t make her an expert.
Hoping she wouldn’t make too much a fool of herself, she picked up her drink and followed Adam over.
After removing his coat and setting up the balls, Adam walked round to the head of the table, chalking the tip of his cue as he went.
“What about a little side bet?” he said casually.
“What did you have in mind?”
He reached into the pocket of his trousers and withdrew a neat fold of bills.
“Your fee?” he said, placing the money on the edge of the table. His eyes danced with amusement. “Don’t look so worried. We’ll keep it simple. You win and I’ll double your fee. You lose, and I keep it.”
“Double it again and you’ve got a deal.”
Although she knew it was highly unlikely she would turn out to be the better player, what did it matter? Even if the gamble was a million dollars, it was only going back into his pocket.
“Best of three?” Adam was leaning forward for the break shot.
As the evening progressed, Anna began to unwind. Adam was clearly the better player, but occasionally she surprised him by pocketing difficult balls or falling back on tactical solutions such as positioning the white ball in such a way that he couldn’t hit one of his without hitting hers first.
“Now that’s the Anna I remember.” He nodded in appreciation as he weighed up the table.
And while they played, they talked. The subject of her letting him down continued to be avoided, of course, but the conversation flowed a lot easier than it had at the bar. She even told him, somewhat shyly, that she had just bought her first investment property. About to take a shot, he’d stood back and offered his congratulations. He sounded truly pleased for her.
She still had three balls left on the table when he potted the last of his, and then in one smooth motion, sent the black neatly across the green baize and into a corner pocket.
“And here I was just getting into it,” she said archly.
He caught the attention of the barman, signaling for another round of drinks.
“Still think you’re in with a chance?”
Collecting the balls, he dropped them back into the wooden triangle.
She was not to be outdone.
“What was the title of that James Bond movie?” She looked up at the ceiling as if for inspiration. “Ah, that’s right. Never Say Never Again! My break, I think.”
Thirty minutes later the second game was over and the money safely back in his pocket.
“Another one? Or can I now tempt you with something to eat?” He had come to stand in front of her. Within touching distance, but still outside her personal space. Just.
“I think you’ve hustled me enough for one evening. Let’s eat. But nowhere too upmarket. I’m not really dressed for that.”
It was a small side-street restaurant with an Andalusian flavoured menu and kitschy Spanish-style décor. The ochre walls were plastered with posters advertising flamenco dancers and bullfighters, the furniture suitably rustic. Gypsy-style acoustic guitar music played softly in the background.
After mopping up the last of his paella, Adam pushed his plate aside and reached for his wine glass.
“That,” he said, raising his eyebrows, “was surprisingly good. Have you enjoyed this evening?”
Anna smiled in return.
“Strangely enough, I have.”
It was true, at least so far. She was still wondering about his intentions for later.
“In that case, we should do it again sometime.”
He was holding his glass to the light, as if judging the contents for clarity and richness of colour. Just when the tension was almost too much, he switched his attention back to her. His gaze didn’t waver.
“I don’t think either of us is ready to pick up where we left off. Do you?” he said.
“I’m not sure.” She bit her lip.
She thanked him quietly as he reached across to top up her glass with more of the plumy Rioja.
“Why did you agree to see me?” he wanted to know.
She couldn’t look at him. If it was true that the eyes were the windows to the soul, the last thing she wanted was to lay bare her most secret thoughts.
“Closure.”
He nodded, as if her answer was as expected.
“And now?”
“Now?” She fidgeted, twisting the stem of her glass.
“Do you feel the same?”
She felt hot and uncomfortable.
“If it’s any help, I’ve missed you,” he added.
He was clever, she thought. Had he reached over and taken her hand or touched her in any other way, she could have shaken him off and broken the spell.
Instead, he was being the perfect gentleman. But he was still playing with her. Messing with her mind.
“I think what you really missed is the control,” she said in a dull monotone.
“Not so. It is not hard to dominate a woman, not when it’s what she wants.”
“What she wants?” Anna reacted, then quickly dropped her voice. “Not once did I ask to be controlled.”
“Didn’t you?”
Her elbows were on the table and she had leaned forward to make her point. Now she pulled back, colouring. She knew exactly the occasion he was referring to.
She took a moment to gather her thoughts.
“You manipulated me,” she tried again.
“Yes.”
“You used me.”
“No.”
“How can you deny it?”
“I gave you what you needed.”
“You had no idea what I needed.”
Adam’s eyes were unfathomable, drawing her in. “I think I had more idea than you,” he said. “And let’s not forget, you could have said no at any time.”
“I did. I walked away.” The words were tinged with weariness.
“You did indeed,” Adam acknowledged. “And now, here we are.”
* * *
Adam was feeling surprisingly positive.
Three hours ago he’d thought the evening a failure. When she’d arrived at the bar she’d been on edge, a little stilted. Not surprising, since she’d no idea what he expected of her. She might have been pleasantly surprised had she known he’d simply wanted to see her again, but her determination to impress him with how she had changed, moved on even, quickly became tedious. Had he not had the idea to play eight ball, he might have ended the evening sooner.
Thankfully she had relaxed, had fun even, and at last he’d glimpsed the old Anna again. And then he had known beyond any doubt that his concern was unfounded. Her eyes, the grey-blue of metamorphic schist, might no longer be as innocent as they once were, and he had to accept some of the blame for that, but she was still the same woman who had captured his heart.
Not only that, but despite her attempts to convince him otherwise, he didn’t believe she was as emotionally detached as she insisted. They were two of a kind, drawn together by an inherent need. And that was what would eventually wear her down. It might take a while, but eventually she would reach the stage where she worried less that he wanted to return their relationship to what it had been, and more that he didn’t.