She eased her way through the crowd. There was a respectful distance between the director’s party and everyone else, which resulted in even tighter bunching at the margins. Several times she lost sight of Richard altogether and by the time she got to the edge of the screen, he and his host and fellow guests had moved on. She hovered, not sure whether she was meant to follow them or not. But even as she stood there undecided, she saw Richard’s head turn and he was retracing his steps. He did not look up – he was frowning down at the catalogue – but he made a gesture which just might have been a signal to retreat behind the screen
Oh, hell, thought Bella. Still, what have I got to lose?
She backed round it, and found herself in a narrow space, full of chairs and signboards. She nearly backed out again, only almost immediately Richard was with her.
‘Quick.’ He put one hand over her shoulder and did something complicated to a wall-mounted console she had not noticed. A bit of wall slid away behind her. ‘Inside.’
Bella backed, predictably stumbling a little. She caught hold of him to steady herself and stood there, blinking, as the wall closed again behind him. It left them in darkness except for the street lights beyond the uncurtained windows. Richard’s breathing was thunderous.
They appeared to be in a small boardroom. Just at the moment, it was a dumping ground, not only for chairs but for stepladders, paint pots and, unmistakably, dust sheets. It smelled of turpentine.
‘Gosh. They only just got the place finished in time, didn’t they?’ Bella said brightly.
But Richard was not interested in the gallery’s refurbishment issues.
He towered over her like an avenging angel. ‘Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?’
Before she could answer, he drove her back against the baize-covered boardroom table and was kissing the life out of her.
When at last Bella got her breath back – some of her breath back – he was kissing her neck, her hair, her temples, and muttering. She swallowed hard.
‘Um—’
‘You’re crazy,’ he whispered urgently. ‘You know that? Mad as a Cornish cat. This party is crawling with photographers, journalists of all persuasions, not to mention a whole bunch of people who would sell their granny for a name check in the gossip columns. And you waltz in, looking like something out of a 1940s musical, and expect to get away with it?’
‘Nobody looks at waiters.’
His laugh was half a groan. ‘They look at perky waitresses dressed like cabin boys. Sexy cabin boys.’
‘Oh.’
‘I just bet there’s half a dozen dirty old men out there who already have your picture on their phone.’ He flipped open her mess jacket and did some complicated breathing into her cleavage. ‘God, you’re gorgeous,’ he said, muffled.
Bella’s head went back and her toes started to do that curling-for-the-carpet thing again.
‘Is this wise?’ Her voice came out high and breathless.
‘Nope.’ He was laughing, intent, and there was no way he was letting her go.
She was wracked with pleasure. ‘What if someone comes in?’
‘Your problem,’ he said smugly, not raising his head. ‘I don’t care.’
She gave an involuntary gasp of pleasure. ‘Don’t do that.’
He did lift his head then. ‘Don’t you like it?’
‘That’s not the point.’
‘Thought so,’ he said with satisfaction, and went back to driving her quietly out of her mind.
Bella stuffed her knuckles in her mouth and concentrated on not screaming the roof off. Then various irritating fastenings began to give and her concentration became even more focused. They toppled sideways, Richard laughing like a maniac. She felt a shoe fall away, then her trousers and suddenly he wasn’t laughing any more and neither was she, as they pulled at each other’s clothes almost desperately.
A bit – a tiny and diminishing bit – of her brain said: I don’t do things like this. And nor does he!
But her body wasn’t having any truck with that. There was that moment of total completion as he slid inside her and then they were off on a crazy ride and she stopped thinking at all.
She floated gently back to earth to find he had collapsed on top of her, his mouth against the naked skin of her armpit. Naked? How did she get naked? She smelled warm skin and freshly laundered cotton and shampoo. Or was it aftershave? And, distantly, the whiff of new paint. She moistened her lips and discovered she was tasting champagne that she had never drunk.