Cross the Line

Naomi toyed with the idea of leaving, heading away from what had become hell on earth. But she was in the middle of nowhere, their flights back weren’t actually until early Monday morning, and the logistics of getting to the airport, changing her flights were all a little ridiculous, so she merely made for the bar and ordered a soft drink, needing time to clear her head.

Patrick smiled as he made across the room to her, “where’s the Con artist?”

She shrugged, “He was having some fresh air, too much champagne I think!”

Patrick nodded, “Lucinda’s the same, she’s headed off to the room for a nap, and freshen up. It’s a long old day!”

                “That sounds like a great plan. When you see Conor will you tell him I’m taking a rest? I’ll see you in a few hours.” He nodded as she walked away.

The outfit she’d worn all day was quite formal, so she was glad to slip it off and pull on a pair of loose training pants and a t-shirt she’d packed on a whim. Curling up in a Chesterfield chair in front of the fire she almost groaned in relief. It was a beautiful late summer’s day, but the castle rooms were chilly and she was glad of the gentle warmth that the fire gave and the calm almost serenity of the room. Rooting around in her holdall she found her Kindle and opened it to carry on reading the book she was halfway into, the latest Patricia Cornwell, about as exciting as her life had got up until the last few weeks.

She must’ve fallen asleep, because she opened her eyes and realised the Kindle had fallen in to her lap. She was tucked into the seat, with her legs throw over one of the arms. The fire was warm though and it was pleasant to wake up still feel relaxed. Then she glanced across the room to see the stony face expression of Conor sat there watching her. He’d loosened his tie and unbuttoned the collar of his shirt, there were dark rings under his eyes and all in all he looked awful. Good! The unforgiving part of her muttered, he’d started this, he was the one who’d changed everything.

                “You’re awake.” He offered.

                “Reluctantly!” she snapped back offering him her best glare.

Conor sighed as he ran a hand through his hair, “look I may not have the most tact on times, and I don’t think I cope very well with being on the back foot. I don’t think it was wrong to bring you here, but I realise that in some ways it was a lot for me to expect to go smoothly. Will you accept my apology?”

She was suddenly wrong footed. Angry she could deal with, in fact she relished it, but him here, being meek and amenable was much more difficult.

                “You treated me like shit Conor, after I did all this to help you out. I’m sorry if this is a difficult time for you, but as I keep saying, I am only here because you asked me.”

He nodded, leaning forward resting his elbows on his knees, “I know. And it was fun...a lot more than fun until I decided to be a complete bastard. I understand that. Will you stay, be my date this evening? I promise to be on my best behaviour and to never speak to you like that again.”

She thought for a minute, “I’m realistically stuck here, but I could be awkward confine myself to this room, though that isn’t in my make up! I have one condition in this little agreement, that we have no more sex. Let’s make this what is always was. A business arrangement, me playing the part of your girlfriend. That is as far as it goes...Deal?”

Looking at her, strong and independent, there was a tug in the vicinity of his chest, which he ignored, instead he goaded her suggestion, “we’re two adults, I’m sure we can resist each other!” Waggling his eyebrow he laughed as he threw her own words back at her.

She changed into a plain black dress she’d packed it as an afterthought and was now glad she had. The formal day wear was too stuffy for a party, and after all this was a party she suddenly wanted to go to. They were in a great magical castle, and she had a handsome man who owed her BIG time. She was going to enjoy being the belle of the ball.

The dining room had been filled with yet another spectacular buffet, long tables laid with the finest delicacies, but it was the ballroom that caused Naomi to stop dead in her tracks. A fine net of tiny blinking white fairy lights hid the high ornamental ceiling, soft drapes edged the room, it was magical, and romantic, and beautiful.

Conor almost bumped into her, so rapid was her halt, but pausing for a moment, he looked into the room and saw what she saw.

                “Spectacular, hey?”

She nodded, “this castle never ceases to amaze me.  Is there nothing the staff can’t manage?”

His laugh was a low sexy rumble, “they are the best, I must admit.”  Glancing to the left he saw the still empty bar, “does our keeping our distance from each other relationship allow me to buy you a drink?”

Naomi turned and gave him her sexiest smile, “I do believe that you promised to pay for anything I want. And right now, what I REALLY want...” she placed a finger seductively over her lips as she paused for a moment. “...is a glass of champagne!”

Conor stood transfixed for a moment, this woman was more than under his skin, it scared him, no it terrified him. How could that one little gesture reduce him to a physical wreck? He knew what she was doing. This little act, the coy yet sexy siren was just that, an act to make him suffer for being such a bastard. And if the last five seconds were anything to go by, he was about to experience a meltdown.

As he handed her the requested glass of fizz, Conor froze. Coming across the room was Orla. His ex-wife, was here. Who the hell had invited her? Seeing his face pale, his eyes widen, Naomi followed his gaze to the doorway where a woman stood, a beautiful woman with alabaster skin and loosely curled red hair cascading around her shoulders, the curvy hourglass figure must’ve been poured into the staggering clinging dress, and for a moment Naomi thought of Jessica Rabbit.  

Instantly she knew this was Orla. The ex-wife.  No wonder he had no intention of getting into a relationship with her. The woman was sinfully beautiful.

Suddenly Conor’s hand linked with hers and squeezed. She heard the curse under his breath, then Seamus and Liam appeared from nowhere and the woman disappeared, hustled away from view.

                “Conor?”

He glanced down at Naomi at the sound of her concerned voice, “Here’s your champagne, err..I need to go a moment.”

And he was gone, hot on the heels of the beautiful woman.

Naomi took a deep breath and crossed the room to Conor’s family. No one could see the door from where they sat, so none of them knew that Conor had chased off after her, or even that Orla was there at all. Then Seamus arrived and pulled her on to the dance floor.

                “She wasn’t invited.” He offered as he spun her expertly around the dance floor. 

Naomi gulped, “but that was Orla!”

He nodded, “it’s hard here, our community is so close that really it would be hard NOT to invite her. But Conor insisted. He even called her personally...to tell her she wasn’t welcome. But she is thick-skinned...he’s sent her away but he wanted to make sure that you weren’t alone. He’s not very good at managing personal things, he shouldn’t have worried we had things in hand.”

She relaxed into Seamus’ arms hoping that his words were true. Then she spotted Conor in the distance, back at the bar, talking to Liam. The vixen was long gone.

It had been a strange evening after a stressful day, and the brazen appearance of Orla had completely unsettled him. Thankfully Liam and Seamus had kept their heads and stepped into deal with both his ex-wife, and Naomi. An hour later Conor was still shaking his head; he’d had to endure the sight of Naomi dancing with each of his brothers, a couple of uncles, one of his best friends, and now his grandfather. Each time she glanced his way she gave him the sweetest smile, then disappeared from view, she only returned for a drink. He felt...used. The irony! And now he really needed to talk to her, explain about earlier. He owed her a lot of explanations, he knew that much.  

Eventually he could take no more, and knowing that his grandfather was anything but a fast mover, he crossed the dance floor and intercepted.

                “Can I have this dance Pops?”

As his grandfather started to nod, Naomi feigned shock, “oh how sweet wanting to dance with you Grandpa!”

Conor ensnared her wrist and pulled her into his arms, “ha ha!” Moving expertly across the floor, he led her to a quieter corner.  “So you’re playing with fire Miss Young?”

She leaned back in his arms and closed her eyes, “fire? No, I’m just having fun, for a change!”

                “I wanted to explain...”

Naomi shook her head, “I don’t need to hear anything. Let’s just dance.” And it was the truth. No one had a good word to say about the glamorous woman who’d only briefly appeared earlier, and Conor had chosen to be here, with her. At the moment, that was enough.

Sighing, Conor pulled her close, the words of explanation dying on his lips. Instead he held her and guided her gracefully to the music. And so began the most torturous five minutes of his life. She rubbed up against him, her delicious body pressing against him in just the right way, literally pushing all his buttons. But each time he swept down to try and kiss her, to release some of the desire and passion she was suddenly stirring, she evaded him, gave the odd tut, reminded him rather patronisingly that this was a non sexual relationship.

He groaned as he tried to stifle his quite obvious excitement, he regretted his words to her earlier, at the time he’d thought that he wanted nothing further from her, but that had changed somewhere...and he been punished enough already, hadn’t he? “Naomi! Please? I can’t take anymore!”

She smiled, a knowing smile, “you are the one who wants to compartmentalise this relationship. It’s not my fault if the memories of last night and the closeness of this dance are turning you on beyond reprieve!” Secretly Naomi was loving the effect she was having on him.

                “Ok! You win! I’ll be whatever you want; this can be whatever you want it to be!”

Suddenly she felt cold, and as he saw her pained eyes he realised he’s said the wrong thing again. “What is it? What have I said wrong?”

She smiled as tears welled in her eyes, “nothing Conor...just nothing!”

In truth she felt awful. This was what their ‘relationship’ resorted to - sex. The promise of more made him agree to anything, but that had an almost prostitute feel about it. Shaking her head, she rested her forehead against his chest and allowed him to finish the dance. When had it all turned so ugly? A few days ago they’d been happy colleagues, but now? Now she didn’t know what they were anymore.

Conor didn’t know what he’d said wrong, but suddenly that too familiar frosty Naomi was back, and he was sick and tired of the erratic nature of this woman. He’d had his fill of awkward women, and Orla turning up here tonight only made him realise that all the more. Nope, he was a confirmed bachelor, and not even sexy Naomi could change his resolve.  As the song finished, he dropped her hands and headed for the bar.

Naomi glanced over and fumed. Abandoned so obviously on the dance floor was embarrassing. She realised that she had blown both hot and cold during the dance, but she wanted a sign, a hint that she was more than the temporary fling he’d hinted at. She stalked to the veranda, her paces too harsh to be a walk and inhaled deeply. She’d had enough of this game. She now knew she couldn’t be the casual affair, that she cared more about herself than that. She’d never done it, and she had no intention of starting now. But the only other option was to leave. To abandon his weekend, the way he’d left her in front of everyone. She sighed, as much as that seemed like an obvious plan, she’d have to work with him come Monday, and she wasn’t sure that she could.

Shaking her head in desperation she slumped into a chair, resigned to her no win situation. Naomi had to admit to herself that the thought of him hurting her caused a pain in her chest, a physical pain, but it was nowhere near the pain that the thought of never seeing him created. She’d never in her life wanted someone, something as much as she wanted him, a future.

Groaning she let her head fall back and closed her eyes. It was decision time, walk away, preserve what little control and self respect that remained, or stay and risk losing what little she had left, because if this fell apart, then she could be risking everything. If she couldn’t work with Conor, then she’d lose her job and Simon and Steph...

Taking a deep breath Naomi stood and decided to confront the World, and more importantly Conor head on. Striding as fast as she could in her heels, she made for the ballroom. Opening the door she could feel an instant tension, all eyes were glued on the dance floor, and she followed the lead and almost froze. Swaying to the music was Conor...and wrapped around him, gazing adoringly into his eyes, was Orla!