C5 5

Before long it was the day of the dance and despite being in town a lot beforehand, she never ran into Rob Munro again. Seeing him again, dressed in Black tie and in his own opulent setting made Rose shiver in anticipation; a dread overtaking her already stretched nerves. He would be on his home turf surrounded by his own friends and belongings and she would be like a fish out of water. Facing him again was not really something she was looking forward to. He had a knack for making her feel awkward and out of her depth and she wasn’t entirely sure if she even liked him.

Abby had promised to wait on her out at the front entrance, so she would walk her in and they had agreed on eight pm to meet. At least that way she did not have to look around nervously, trying to find a friendly face. She could walk confidently with her friend’s arm and smile and look radiant instead.

Rose had woken that morning with a very strange churning feeling that followed her through the hours. Excitement and dread at the same time. She was looking forward to a proper night of wine and dancing, good music. But her heart was thumping every time she thought about that handsome face and his cold steel grey glare that did crazy things to her insides.

Now she had made more friends in the town and had Abby, she felt more confident about going, but that feeling of nervous anticipation in the back of her mind followed her. She was so restless, she could barely concentrate on anything.

She tried to sketch some ideas in her art room, tried walking Muffin to town and back to get rid of some of the pent-up energy and only felt more restless. She took a bath at lunch and slathered herself in every expensive product she owned. Shaving and moisturising, pruning and preening and throwing on a light sundress to go sit in the garden. She felt like her nerves were on edge and kept checking her watch every five minutes. Listlessly aware that she was counting the minutes until the ball began.

She had cooked a full breakfast and lunch, trying to kill time through the morning, but only picked at both, her appetite had deserted her. She had the cottage looking spotless and neat and nothing on TV held any interest for her.

Abby was helping with the big house today, so no morning visits from her either.

Maybe that’s why she felt so agitated?

Maybe she needed some company that was not furry with four legs. Maybe she just needed human interaction to distract her and jumped in her car for the second trip to town that day. Poor Muffin was exhausted from their walk, so she left him asleep on the rug in the living room, snoring and dreaming of chasing some poor cat. His little legs twitching as he lay stretched on his side and small whimpers and growls as he snorted through a closed mouth.

The short car journey was pleasant as the sun still shone brightly in the sky, the weather had been glorious these past few weeks and had given her such a deep tan and healthy colour in her face.

She spent half an hour in Bella’s bakery and finally reunited with the woman after all these years when she popped in to check on things. Lots of laughs and cuddles and reminiscing. The large round woman was exactly as she remembered, only with a few greyer hairs and laughter lines. The conversation pulled towards Olivia and Bella gave her many condolences and a bag of cream confectionaries.

From there she found the church was having an outdoor stall in the town center and selling jumble and books. That killed a lot of time and lots of small talk with the knitting club who loved nothing more than to shower Rose in affection. They called her their ‘adopted grandchild.’ They gave her a free crochet mug mat for her desk and a bag of dog cookies for the now famous Muffin.

Everyone in town loved Muffin, her small furry friend. Always happy to see him and shower him with smooches and hugs, treats under the table. They liked to think Rose couldn’t see, but she chose to turn a blind eye. Although of late his little pot belly was starting to become obvious and she would soon have to curb all these extra day time treats.

Rose wandered around for a bit, window shopping and killing time. Lost in her own thoughts. Not really paying attention but trying to stretch out her day a little longer rather than going back to clock watching at home and pacing her rugs until they were threadbare.

She was carrying a large beach bag with a rainbow stripe print, which held all her purchases and gifts; her long lemon sundress touched the ground as she walked, flowing loosely around her legs. It had a fitted strappy bodice showing off her tanned shoulders and arms and her slim figure well. It was doing a great job of making her feel cool in the baking heat too. Her long brown hair hung around her shoulders in soft gentle waves, thanks to her new curling iron and her face, as usual, with minimal makeup and her favourite cherry lip balm which stained her full pout to a slight rosy tint.

She looked at her reflection in a boutique mirror and admired the change in her since coming here. It wasn’t just the tan. It was her whole being. She looked happier, healthier, more relaxed; she fitted with this country living more than she ever fitted with the busy city streets and clogged air. Her mood had generally been lighter and more carefree. The smog free air, making her feel like she could really breathe living here.

She was unaware of how carefree and elegant she looked as she wandered about, unaware that eyes had been watching her from afar and as she drew ever closer to them, they did not dare to interrupt her. She looked so lost in thought and stunningly beautiful.

She became aware of the museum looming above her as she wandered aimlessly about. Raising her eyes up, she took in the large ancient building with its grey stone walls and gothic arched entranceway. The way it stretched above her like a massive foreboding castle, so dark against the bright surroundings.

Huge banners gently flapped in the breeze, announcing the current exhibition and she felt inclined to go in. Something pulling her towards the dark, shadowy entrance. The museum mainly held a lot of Scottish artefacts and history, but the side hall changed every few months to bring in new visitors. Today the banner displayed a modern art-themed exhibition from some aspiring artist who had been a local once. The artwork hinted at abstract, but she still felt the intrigue enough to venture on. She hesitated about going in, then took the plunge and walked forward.

‘Penelope.’ the warm tones in his voice had an instant impact and she stopped. That familiar lurch in her breastbone. Swinging round to see where it came from. He was perched on a stone planter by the door in the shade. She had not seen him sitting there.

God knows how long he had been watching her?

He had on another white shirt, unbuttoned at the collar and sleeves pushed up, exposing those rather hunky arms, a pair of faded jeans and white trainers. Practically every time she saw him, he was in varying degrees of formal meets casual, which somehow only added to his charm and he had on sunglasses shielding those stormy grey eyes from sight. She felt a nudge of disappointment that his best feature was shielded from view. His short black hair was ruffled on top carelessly, casually styled. Unlike those London men with their shiny puffed hair do’s and manicured hands. He looked relaxed and smiled. Thousand-watt voltage sprang from that smile and all Rose could do was dive into her bag to fake look for something so very important she instantly needed it. She was aware that it had become instantly difficult to breathe normally.

‘Rob.’ She kept her tone even and eyes down, intent on her hands and there rummaging. Trying to keep herself calm and sane with such a mundane task as sorting through, looking for a plausible item to drag out. ‘And my name is Rose!’ She was keeping the irritation out of her voice. Trying to sound, light and nonchalant. Of course, she did not want him to know how much he annoyed her using that stupid pet name, hadn’t she already made it clear that it was not her name. Her heart was pounding through her chest, which annoyed her immensely. Stupid reactions to this man!

‘I know!’ a voice deep and smooth, sexy. She heard him slide off the planter and her heart beat upped a gear; her fingers began trembling as she sensed him moving closer. Aware that she was fumbling.

‘I just think Penelope suits you.’

She ignored him. Well tried to. Cursing inwardly as she still fumbled in her bag. Finally locating her sunglasses, she pulled them out and pushed them on, shielding her eyes and sweeping her hair back from her face in a bid to look relaxed and unaffected. Throwing on a sarcastic smile, she marched away from him into the museum, annoyed with how juvenile he made her feel.

‘Well have a wonderful day, Mr Munro. Would love to stay and chat but I want to see this exhibit before I need to head home.’ She smiled and made for the Museum doors quickly. Unaware that he was grinning at her sudden need for eyewear when entering a building away from the sun. Or the way he was looking her up and down. She heard him call out a goodbye as she practically hoofed away from him and in return threw up a hand in a wave that implied indifference; she would be damned if she let him see how much he got to her. Her heart rate was competing in the Olympics and she felt slightly faint.

Oh my god, why did this guy invoke such trauma to her just by being near?

She immediately dashed behind a pillar at the open wooden door and turned to peek out. He was walking away. That manly walk that real guys have when it’s not really a swagger but not really a weak girly trot. Just a typical guy walk, all wide shoulders and strong legs and going about his day, unaware of the crazy woman peeking out at him from the darkness of the building.

What was he doing here anyway? Did he not have a dance to organise? to oversee? To lord over?

She pulled herself away as he turned out of sight, leaning back against the wall behind her to gather herself and take some deep breaths. Sighing as she tried to push the picture of his tight, jean clad butt, out of her mind’s eye. Cursing herself at the lack of ability to do so. The coldness of the stone in this dark corner, tucked behind the pillar, made her feel instantly calmer. Hidden from his view. Somehow sobering and grounding her. She really hated the way he caused her to self-implode like this at every meeting. If he knew how much he affected her he would probably enjoy it. He seemed like the kind of guy who would get a kick out of it. She pulled her glasses back off her face and threw them in her bag.

Excellent choice Rose! Sunglasses in a dark building! Could you be any more obvious?

She smoothed down her dress and bravely walked back into the light of the room. Acting as though nothing had happened. Hiding in the shadows was completely normal. She looked around the vast hall, deserted on such a sweltering day and tried to find some poster or sign with information or at least directions to the art exhibit.

While in Rome!

There were large wooden doors to the left and right, but both firmly shut with No entry signs screwed in place. She figured she would kill some time surrounded by art, which always had such a soothing effect, and try and forget what that smooth voice and dazzling smile had done to her. Not that it had been an effect in a good way. Hell no! It rattled her in a really, really bad way. In a ‘he’s so annoying and irritating’ way. Such a jerk.

A jerk with a nice ass in a pair of jeans, though.

Damn him!

Her heart beat was finally trying to regain its previous calm rhythm, but her hands were still trembling. She pushed it away and focused ahead. The large hall echoed as her sandals clip-clopped across to a wall mounted glass case at the far end with huge welcome signs hanging from the ceiling. Inside all the information she had been seeking and an array of small artefacts surrounded the posters and brass etched signs on glass floating shelves. There was a door off to her left with an ‘Office’ plaque above and a red rope stretched across, preventing her from venturing further. There was a glass sliding window beside the glass case, with a large etched sign reading ‘Admissions’ above it and a clearly placed bell to ring for assistance. The entry fees were printed on a laminated A4 card, propped up in the sliding window and a cheery old lady with curly grey hair was sitting inside with her nose stuck in some trashy novel. Rather than ring the bell Rose instead gently knocked on the glass smiling.

Once She had purchased her entry ticket the lady came out and moved the rope for her to pass and pointed her in the direction she had been seeking. The museum was much like most she had been in. Large, old world, airy buildings with polished floors, old wood stairs and beams, glass cabinets and that distinct musty smell of old things. Large gothic windows kept the place bright and were draped with heavy red curtains with gold tassels. The windows, however, were frosted so she could not see out into the surroundings. That familiar echoed noise that caused people to whisper as she moved around the polished floors slowly.

The halls she passed through had the odd browsing tourist, peering into the lines of cases and displays. She could hear some sort of documentary film playing somewhere in another room, the noise faintly echoing throughout and the sounds of a battle thrashing to some bagpipe music. Overall the place was deserted.

The art exhibit was in one of the rear halls, at the furthest part of the museum, a huge white walled room with soft floaty music gently pouring over you as you entered. There was a table set up with pictures and information about the artist, and a pile of brochures. She browsed the pamphlet quickly, taking in the man’s mature face and grey hair, his background history and the basis behind his work before turning and strolling eagerly into the room. There were huge abstract paintings on the walls and large sculptures stood on plinths dotted around. Nothing she could identify as a real object just more abstract design made from various mediums in a flowing graduation of colour. It was almost as though someone had melted a wax rainbow and frozen it mid-pour. He seemed to like working through colour graduations, sometimes sticking to one colour and working through tones and sometimes the entire spectrum running from one blended colour to another. She found herself captivated by all the colours and fluidity in his work, like being pulled into a colourful dream in a magical wonderland made of melted things. She could see why a lot of his words related to flowing and freedom in the descriptive plaques. Standing to ponder a large, almost sunset like pieces on a stand in the corner and lost in thought when a voice interrupted her.

‘Afternoon Ma’am, you like that one?’ It was an easy American drawl, southern sounding and male. She was slightly startled, but smiled, covering her reactions and keeping her focus on the art piece.

‘Yes, there’s something about it, like you’re standing on a tropical beach watching the sun come up.’ She kept her gaze on the painting as the voice came closer and moved to her side.

He was a very tall, a very muscular blonde American. Classically handsome in that chiseled American way, with piercing blue eyes. His hair was tied back in a ponytail and immediately made her think of the movie Thor. She had to admit, he was pretty hot. All women loved a bit of hunky eye candy and this one was appreciated.

‘The artist is my uncle’ He smiled, showing some overly pearly whites and a dazzling cheeky smile. She smiled back, blushing slightly. Aware that all good-looking men had the ability to make her feel awkward. Maybe it was the ugly duckling syndrome from being a none too attractive child in puberty.

‘So, is that why you’re here? Are you the muscle to make sure people admire his work?’ she laughed and turned more towards this handsome stranger, feeling truly geeky in mentioning his muscles in such a lame line.

‘Something like that.’ He was standing with his hands behind his back, his chest straining behind a grey t-shirt with a designer logo and a pair of jeans straining at his footballer’s thighs. ‘I came with him for the trip when they asked him to show his work here’

‘He stays in the USA now then?’

‘Yeah, he moved out there a few years ago, he married my aunt when she came over for a little Scottish holiday and they spent a long time living here before heading back to the states’ He smiled Rose’s way, his eyes skimming her appreciatively and Rose ignored the slight feeling of uneasiness.

‘I guess you’re close then, seeing as you came with him?’ She tried to ignore the way he was fixated on the tight bodice of her dress and crossed her arms over her waist in a bid to cover up a little.

‘Yeah, we are. He’s a good guy and I needed a break. I have an injury that’s healing. ‘He pointed down to his knee in a manner which suggested he probably was someone who played football, the build on him suggested American football.

‘I couldn’t resist a trip to Scotland to see some castles and haggis.’ his winning smile again had her smiling too, putting her back at ease and forgiving the way he had been ogling her; there was something about his easy manner and a quick smile that made Rose feel a little at ease. Maybe it was just a pretty face had the ability to make you relax, although that seemed to be the opposite for Rob Munro, that handsome face most certainly didn’t make her feel at ease.

He walked with her to the next painting, explaining his injury more and his sabbatical. He was from Arizona, hence the southern drawl and was a career sportsman. He seemed to have a celebrity status back home and was enjoying the peace and quiet of being a no one in this country. He also seemed to enjoy talking about himself without coaxing, somehow Rose found it a little arrogant.

They admired the next work of art briefly, pointing out the colours and flow of the piece before moving on quickly, Rose was starting to feel listless again and wanted him to let her browse alone again.

He seemed like a decent guy, if not a little bit too self-absorbed. He made all the right noises and acted like an adult anyway. His name was Matt... Very American! and he was twenty-nine, single and owned his own ranch. Rose could not help but think of a ton of Mills and Boon romance books that reeked of romantic heroes like him, and the very thought made her blush a little more. It was so stupid.

He was hanging out at the museum while his uncle was upstairs in one of the curator’s offices, discussing some minute details over a painting that had been offered for sale. He was his driver and bodyguard, not that he needed it, but the pretense of his needing his nephew stopped Matt feeling like a third wheel.

Rose was trying to wander off and put space between them unsuccessfully when Matt’s uncle appeared with a tall woman at the door. Rose was immediately captivated by the woman’s tailored perfection, cream and black Chanel suit on her tall supermodel body, her dark red curls falling like a tumbling brook from the top of her head and her glittering green almond eyes. Black expertly applied winged eyeliner set in a pale flawless skin with peachy tones and a spattering of freckles. Her pouty mouth was stained with dark red lipstick giving her a seductive yet dominating appeal. She was stunning in a very magical fairy-like way meets American vogue, business woman of the year. How you would imagine a wood nymph or a naughty sexy pixie to look if she was from New York.

She had on black high stiletto heels, peeking under her cream slacks and killer French manicured nails in deadly points, tipped with black. She oozed class and sophistication and immediately drew you under a spell at her presence. She gushed over Matt in an insincere tone, exposing ample cleavage under her suit jacket and a hint of black lace and a satin camisole as she spread her arms to kiss his cheeks in a very French debutante manner; almost enveloping them all in her expensive perfume. Her accent was only subtly Scottish, with an air of upper class and silky smooth like honey. She screamed sex and allure with every word, breath and movement. It was almost impossible not to be drawn in by her.

Matt did not seem overly susceptible to her charms, wary almost, and kept his distance once she released him from her embrace. He almost seemed hostile towards her.

She introduced herself to Rose as Morag Spencer, the curator of the museum, then dismissed her with a smile before turning her attentions to the men. It was obvious Rose was in the way and the patron was sending her every female signal that it was time to go.

Maybe not so alluring after all.

Rose excused herself, feeling a wave of unwelcome warmth as Matt placed his large hand on her arm, pulling her over to kiss her cheek rather surprisingly before saying goodbye. It felt strange to have a stranger’s touch on her skin. She was not sure she liked it. She figured back home that was a normal action to part ways, but it had knocked her for six. His aftershave still lingered around her face, slightly catching in her throat as she left the building in a weird mood. Unsure why the handsome man’s brief kiss had unsettled her. It seemed an innocent enough gesture. Common maybe where he was from.

She could not remember finding her car or driving home that afternoon, lost somewhere in daydreams and thoughts of large American men running around the football field, except it was not Matts’ face she was envisioning. Instead someone with decidedly darker looks and greyer eyes.

* * *

Muffin was thrilled to see her, acting as though they had been separated for months and throwing his tiny furry self all over her like a hyper-rodent on heat. His small pink tongue attacking her hands and face ferociously when she tried to sit down on her bed. She barely had time to rustle up something to eat before she needed to start getting ready and realised her answer machine was flashing with a ton of messages.

Every single one of them was from Abby. Checking in. Sharing excitement. Confirming eight pm at the front car park. Describing her final choice of dress and finally wishing her luck. Every call ended with ‘Don’t need to call me back. I’ll see you there’. Rose laughed.

She figured Abby was as restless as her and lack of physical contact today was turning her into a phone stalker. Rose pulled out her mobile, realising it was switched off with a dead battery and threw it on her bed.

Ok, so she had to get herself together.

She had plenty of time to relax and do her hair and makeup, pull out her new dress which had arrived a few days ago. Locals had told her that the dance was very formal, evening gowns and black bow tie. It was all rather exciting.

She had chosen a long, pale dress, in ivory with layers of puffy chiffon in an over the knee length skirt, giving it an almost fairytale princess feel. It puffed out just enough to look beautiful, but not so much she looked like a cloud. The bodice was fitted and studded with pearls, crystals and embroidery, rather subtly along the sweetheart neckline in matching ivory. Its straps were wide forming little cap sleeves but leaving her shoulders bare. When she had tried it on for the very first time, Abby had gasped in awe. She had worried it was a little too bride to be, but Abby assured her that her tanned skin and dark hair tumbling down from a romantic up style would make it look perfect. She had pale shoes in a darker shade with high heels and peep toes, made from a similar satin to the bodice on her feet that made her long legs look amazing. Matching clutch bag and her newly polished pearl coloured toenails and manicure finished the look.

Abby had helped her practice a few simple up dos on her hair and her makeup was pure nineteen fifties glam tonight. Black-winged eyeliner, subtle blush and rose coloured almost nude lips, pouting at full capacity. Her hair, although mostly loose curls, was pinned up at the nape of her neck with a small vintage crystal clasp and had let small tendrils fall and hang prettily around her face and ears. She looked every bit the princess from a romantic fairy-tale. She suited romantic vintage clothes, somehow, they made her look even more beautiful.

Pulling on a cream cashmere coat her mother had given her for her last birthday in London, she looked every bit Audrey Hepburn.

She took a few deep breaths, checking the time and putting both her purse and invitation into her bag. She had decided to drive to the dance, but Abby had promised her a taxi to return; leaving her free tonight to get merry and dance the night into drunken oblivion. Her stomach was doing a crazy Rhumba and churning with nerves by the time she pulled into the long manor road. Other cars were coming and going, lots of hustle and bustle both on the road and the huge wide car park at the doors. Ushers were signaling for cars to park and deposit guests and others were driving cars off the wide space onto a sectioned off lawn as a makeshift car park.

Fairy lights were hung in all the surrounding trees and the fountain in the center had floating candles and magical lights draped all over. A small orchestra was set up at the entrance, welcoming people with soothing music. It was so opulent and classy that it was breath-taking, and she had not even ventured inside. Rose parked off to the side of the house in the area, Abby had described to her, that way her car would be out of the way for an overnight stay and close enough to the house to leave her coat for later.

As soon as she exited her car, Abby was by her side screaming with delight and twirling her around, swarming her with compliments on how beautiful she looked. When she slid her coat off and dropped it into her car seat Abby began wolf whistling and again the spinning and turning while she admired her dress. She was caught up in her enthusiasm and started giggling with excitement.

‘You my beauty, are going to knock men’s eyes out tonight.’ Abby giggled and once again twirled Rose under her arm.

Abby was dressed in a long satin gown in a gorgeous emerald green. It was slinky and clingy in all the right places and swept the floor as she walked, opening a slit from floor to thigh on her left leg. It had a draped neckline revealing her modest cleavage and thin straps on her dainty shoulders. It made the girls pale skin and raven hair even more stunning. And she complimented her friend with the same enthusiasm she had received. It made her look so much older than her nineteen years and it tugged at Rose’s heart a little to see the woman before her. Rob had been accurate with his ‘revealing or outrageous’ prediction; this was certainly revealing, but still classy and Abby looked stunning.

‘Talk about me...Look at you Ab’s. You are the belle of the ball.’ Rose beamed, looping arms and excitedly toddling on heels towards the bustling entranceway.

‘Aww shucks, you make me blush’ Abby jested and squeezed Rose’s arm a little tighter. ‘All ready for a night of schmoozing and boozing Miss Turner?’ Abby’s eyes twinkled merrily.

‘Definitely, I need a good night more than anything.’ Rose was swept up in the excitement now and her nerves were tingling.

As they entered the grand stone stairs past the orchestra Rose could see even the green of Abby’s eyes seemed to have darkened to the colour of the dress, and her peachy, almost natural lipstick, made her seem so much more seductive. She could not tell her enough how beautiful she looked and how every young man’s head turned as they walked through the hall into the main ballroom. Unaware the glances were not just for Abby.

The air was buzzing with excitement and chatter. Groups of over excited happy people at every turn, a huge turnout already. Grand chandeliers hung low, illuminating the room with a magical glow, tables set up with crisp linens at one end and extravagant lily and rose centerpieces. A vast dance floor with glittery lights and floral arrangements dotted all over on stands and a wide sweeping buffet table full of delicious looking hors d’oeuvres. It was the most elegant room she had ever seen, and she mentally tried to work out how much money could they surely raise for the charity when spending so much on the decor, music and food.

There was another orchestra set up in one corner on a stand, playing vaguely familiar songs with a classical twist. The entire atmosphere brought goose bumps of excitement to Rose as she explored the food table with Abby, admiring all the delicious morsels on offer. There was everything from seafood, delicious meats and cold pasta, to bowls of salads with dressing and chicken wings. There were rolled pastries and things on sticks she could not even identify and of course a huge mountain of champagne glasses beside an array of miniature desserts.

Abby nudged her as handsome men in black bow ties and crisp suits walked by, winking at the girls; giggling girls in puffy dresses and tightly pinned hair dos followed with friendly grins. There were more people here than Rose knew even lived in this area and half of them were completely new to her. Rose’s eyes wandered around the room, taking in the people, the beautiful clothes, sparkly accessories and the elegant setting. She was aware of the way her eyes were searching every dark-haired male face as they jumped from one to the other. No matter how much she told herself to stop it, it was like she had little control and the urge to seek him out carried on regardless.

When her eyes met with a tall straight back of a tailored black jacket over wide shoulders, a male with cropped black hair and a tanned strong neck, her stomach fluttered, and her heart skipped a beat. She would recognise him even from the back and at a distance and that only disturbed her more. Abby was chatting at hyper-speed in her ear and handing her a champagne glass filled with slightly pink bubbly liquid, unaware of her friend’s sudden silence. Rose kept glancing towards his back, unsure how to react.

To avoid? To go over? To pretend she had not seen him?

As she was contemplating what to do he turned away from the group of people he was with and Rose got to see his face properly. A slight change in her heartbeat. Unable to look away. He was looking out onto the sea of people with a smile on his face, someone was still talking to him and his attention was wherever they were pointing. His handsome face looked even more chiseled in the dim lights and his white shirt, black bow tie and jacket, made him more like James bond than Laird of the manor. He looked so effortlessly at ease. He suited the whole bow tie, dinner jacket, set up and Rose could barely feel her knees anymore. Her breath had caught in her chest and suddenly made her feel lightheaded.

God dammit.

How could she be so stupid? How could she not realise that every time she reacted to this man in this way her body was trying to tell her something apparently obvious.

She had a stinking huge crush on him!

Like a hormonal teenager who followed around the high school heartthrob. Suddenly aware of this resounding fact made her feel immediately vulnerable, confused and emotional all at the same time. Like a light being switched on in a dark room, only to find you’re naked on a stage in front of strangers! Completely shocked at her own discovery and then an inward groan at how incredibly dumb she was. She winced, turning herself to the buffet and trying to reel in the crazy thoughts that were spilling all over her dress and table like a severed artery.

Jesus!... What the hell?... How could she be so blind?

Abby was lost in conversation with an elderly woman to her side over crab sticks and was oblivious to her friend’s sudden life altering realisation, or the sheer crumpling effect it had had on her posture and state of mind. She glanced back, trying to catch sight of Rob again, just to be sure he did in fact cause these fluttering’s, lack of breath and insane light-headedness. This insane need to beat him round the head anytime he appeared charming and stopped her in her tracks.

That was her mind’s way of highlighting how irresistible he was to her, surely?

Rob was still in the same spot as he had been seconds ago, looking like he was bathed in angelic light. If it was possible to have rainbows indoors, she would have seen one arcing over him. She was pretty sure she was seeing stars already. Maybe that was just the lack of oxygen as breathing was near impossible at that moment.

He turned slightly and revealed that, latched most purposely to his arm, was a tall, curly haired redhead, with a supermodel body poured into a figure hugging cream dress. Slit in all the right places, leaving nothing to the imagination. Morag Spencer; overly sexed museum curator was possessively spilling over Rob in an obvious way!

Rose felt the last of her breath escape her. A sudden thud to the chest and prickling tingles ran the length of her body. Deer in the headlights sprang to mind. Rose dropped her glass of champagne, seemingly removed from the actions of her own limbs and it snapped her back to reality.

Abby cursed and jumped away from the shattering glass, as both girls then swept down to start mopping the mess with napkins in a rather frantic manner. Rose felt her bottom lip start to tremble as her eyes welled up, but they were ushered aside by two waiting staff in uniforms and handed a new glass of champagne. She had lost control of her faculties in the most juvenile way, aware she was literally losing her calm facade and turning into a bowl of melting jelly.

‘I need to go to the bathroom and clean this.’ she couldn’t look Abby in the eye, afraid the tears would start tumbling, so kept her gaze fixed on the dampness on her floaty skirt and tried so hard to behave normally. Abby took her hand and dragged her off in the direction of the bathroom

‘Come on babe I’ll help!’. Abby smiled warmly, and Rose could do nothing but allow herself to be pulled along. She felt numb and distraught, all at the same time.

Rose began panicking as she realised their route took them directly into Rob’s path and as his eyes met hers, his expression changed, from a cheery guy at a party to sudden recognition and something else. Something she couldn’t fathom. An instant moment passing between them as eyes locked. She was fighting back every single emotion any hormonal woman had ever met, trying to keep a straight face while being dragged by an overzealous slightly tipsy teen. Trying to keep her face blank in an effort to get past a guy she had only just discovered she had a massive almighty longing for.

For the love of god!

Rob reached out and caught hold of her by the waist in a lightning flash move, halting her abruptly. Something he seemed to just love doing was putting hands on her. His halting them stopped Abby in her tracks, who almost ripped Rose’s arm off.

‘What happened?’ Rob’s eyes flitted across Roses dress, alarmingly close and still holding onto her. She could barely formulate a response.

‘We had a little spill, that’s all.’ Rose tried to sound, light and upbeat, but she could not bring her gaze to meet his. Her whole focus was on the hot hand placed across her abdomen through the thin satin material at her waist. No longer bringing fury to her body, but instead making her melt into a puddle and causing an inability to function. She liked it better when she thought his touch irritated her. He had moved close enough that she could feel his breath on her hair and his aftershave surrounded her senses. It was as if the whole room had ceased to exist and they were alone in a little-cocooned bubble.

‘Abby use one of the en-suites upstairs. You know how busy the ladies room will be right now.’ his voice was sliding over her like toffee sauce on hot apple pie, she did not want to move, speak. or even look up. She heard Abby reply in agreement before his voice turned back to her above her head.

‘You look really beautiful Rose...Really... Just amazing.’ He almost whispered those words in her ear as her brain manically realised it was the first time he had said her actual name.

‘Not Penelope?’ Were the only words she could formulate with him this close to her face. Almost brave enough to meet his gaze, she instead lifted her chin high enough to focus on his bow tie. Aware that now her forehead was almost touching his chin, the closeness sending goosebumps in every direction. It was almost impossible to breathe normally, her hands trembling once again. He really did turn her into a nervous wreck with very minimum effort.

‘Not tonight.’ There was something softer in his tone, he sounded breathy and he was seriously affecting her ability to breathe ‘Tonight, just Rose.’

As though sensing something unjust going on, the tall, slender Morag, appeared, pulling at his arm, thus releasing his hand on Rose and pulling him away from her.

‘Rooooobb baby, come dance with me. I want to be wrapped up in these beefy arms already.’ She crooned in a sickly-sweet baby voice and for a moment Rose thought she saw Rob grimace. It was so fleeting that she almost missed it and couldn’t be sure she even saw it at all.

Sudden chill where warmth had once been, Rose looked away and then back, catching his eye as he turned her way for a brief glimpse. Something translated between them instantly, in that mere second. His normally light grey eyes were dark and loaded, but she could not fathom the message or the look. Then he was turning and gone, and Abby was pulling her towards the hall; her emotion caught in her throat, threatening to choke her. Looking back at him as she was dragged away by Abby and he was dragged away by Morag, she watched him disappear into the crowd. Taking her heart with him.