Free The Best of Times by Penny Vincenzi Page A

really.
    • • •
    That had been two months ago; since then he had thought about her obsessively, all the time. He longed to be with her, and not just for sex. He found her intriguing, almost frightening, so unlike anyone he had ever known. She excited him, she shocked him, and while he did not imagine himself remotely in love with her, he was certainly in her thrall.
    She made him run appalling risks; she would stop suddenly as they walked through a dark street, force him into a doorway, pull him into her; she brought cocaine to the hotel rooms where they met, and made a great play of laying out the lines while the room service meals or drink were wheeled in; she called him on his mobile when she knew he was at home, claiming to be a patient, refusing to get off the line until he had made some arrangement to see her.
    The terror of it all made his adrenaline run high; the comedown was fearsome. She had become his personal, addictive drug; he needed her more and more.
    But the fear had perversely given him courage; he was resolved that this had been the last time—had begun to try to tell her so as they ate breakfast in bed this final morning. It had all been wonderful, he said, really wonderful, but perhaps the time had come to—
    “To what?” she said, looking at him sideways, picking up a croissant, dipping it in her coffee.
    “Well, to … to draw a line.”
    “What sort of a line? I’m afraid we used all mine last night.”
    “Abi, please don’t be … don’t be … difficult. I think you know what I mean. We have to finish this.”
    “What on earth for, when we’re having such a great time? Or didI miss something last night? Were you trying to get away from me, escape into another room or—”
    “Of course I wasn’t trying to get away from you. Don’t be ridiculous.”
    “Well, then, Jonathan, I don’t get it. Now come on, let’s get rid of this tray and have one last glorious fuck. Then I’ll leave you in peace. For now. Oh, no, not quite—I forgot I want a lift to London. Presume that’s OK?”
    “Of course it’s not OK. I can’t possibly drive you into London. Someone might see me—us; you know the rules.”
    “Oh, yes, the rules. It’s all right, Jonathan. Don’t look so frightened; I’m not proposing a visit to your very lovely home in Chiswick. I want to do some shopping, meet up with a girlfriend, maybe go to a movie.”
    “Oh—right,” he said, “but still—maybe I could drop you at the station; you could get the train—”
    “I don’t like trains. And I don’t really think it’s very likely that out of the millions of people in London this afternoon we’re going to be spotted by one of your chums. No, I’d prefer you to drop me … well, Harley Street would be fine; how’d that be?”
    “Abi, I am not taking you to Harley Street.”
    “Why not? I like it there. I’ve been there before, remember?”
    He did remember—remembered her coming to his rooms, claiming she was a patient, pulling him into her on the examination bed; he still felt sick just thinking about it. Sick and … amazing.
    “Well, you can’t come today. Someone might recognize you. Abi …” He took a deep breath. “I really do want to talk.”
    “We can talk in the car. Waste of time talking. Now come on, what can I do to interest you …”
    She turned him on his back, began toying with his cock with her tongue. He struggled briefly, then gave himself up to the pleasure of her. It could be the last time … He would take her to London and they would talk in the car. He would retreat from the madness and rebuild his life. It would be tough, and he would miss what she did forhim, but a few weeks from now it would seem like a dream. A disturbing, dangerous dream. And it would be over, with no great harm done—to him or Laura or the children or his marriage …
    The possibility of his harming Abi never occurred to him. And if it had he would have dismissed it utterly. She really was not his