As I get near to Alex, my own lust levels are rocketing too. Only it’s not as simple as that. I don’t just want him; I want control. To jettison insecure, defensive little Katie with all her hang-ups and humiliations. I want to feel empowered. I’ve never particularly been a first-move kind of girl, but right now I can really see the point.
I head to the Defender, reach for two more cans of cider, and hold one out to him.
“Hot day,” I say. “D’you mind if I sunbathe?” And before I can get cold feet, I peel off my tank top.
There. How’s that for a first move? I’ve never done anything so bold in my life, and I feel a slight inner breathlessness.
It’s a good bra I’ve got on—a black lace balconette one, very flattering—and Alex stares frankly at my tits as though he’s in some kind of torture heaven. As I crack open my cider, he starts, then, without speaking, takes his own can and opens it.
The atmosphere is unbearably charged. My head feels muzzy and I can barely breathe. All I can think is, I’m standing here in my bra and I’d better not have misread this and What happens now?
“Maybe I’ll sunbathe too,” Alex says at length, and strips off his shirt. His torso is leaner than I expected, almost boyish, with a strip of dark hair running downward from his navel. I can’t quite tear my eyes away from it. “Plenty of time before Demeter’ll get back,” he adds. His eyes are running over me too, and I feel my breath coarsening in response. There I was, obsessing about the “sizzling chemistry” he had with Demeter. Well, this is pretty sizzling.
“Loads of time,” I manage, my voice sounding blurry to my own ears. “And nobody will disturb us here. We can sunbathe all afternoon,” I add for good measure. “As long as we like.”
“Luckily, I’ve got sunbathing protection on me,” says Alex slowly. His eyes meet mine and I know exactly what he means, and I almost want to laugh, except I’m so desperate.
“So, what factor are you?” I step forward and run a hand down his chest. “Because it’s pretty hot out here.”
In answer, he cups my waist and presses his chest to mine, his hands swiftly roaming below my jeans waistband. As I inhale his scent—part sweat, part soap, part Alex—I feel a fresh, sharp flare of hunger. God, I need this.
Sex has not been on my agenda for a long time, and I can feel my body waking up, like a dragon after hibernation. Every nerve ending. Every pulsing bit of me.
“You know, I wanted to sunbathe with you the moment I met you,” says Alex into my neck, and his lips brush along my skin, making me whimper.
“Me too,” I murmur back, unbuttoning his jeans, trying to move things along.
“But I was your boss. It would have been fucked up….” He hesitates and draws back, his brow crumpled. “Hey, wait. You are OK with this? I mean, you’re not…” He hesitates. “This is a yes?”
When I was at senior school, I studied judo for three years. Without thinking twice, I wrap my foot round Alex’s leg, unbalance him, and pin him on the ground, ignoring his startled cry.
I straddle him, looking down at him, feeling more in charge of my life right now than I have done in a long time. I lean down, cup his face, and find his mouth for a long, sweet kiss, and for the first time I think, You. There you are. Men’s mouths are like their personalities, I find. (Which is why I never really took to kissing Steve.) Then I sit up, unhook my bra, and toss it aside, relishing Alex’s instant, unmistakable reaction.
“It’s a yes,” I say, and lean down to kiss him again. “Don’t you worry. It’s a yes.”
We wake up in the early evening, a breeze cooling our skin. Alex glances at me and I see a sleepy smile come to his eyes. Then reality sets in.
“Shit.” He scrambles to his feet. “What time is it? Have we been asleep?”
“It’s the country air,” I say. “Knocks everyone out.”
“It’s six.” I can see him doing calculations in his head. “Demeter might be back.”
“Maybe.” I feel my rosy glow dim a little. I don’t want the bubble to burst. But Alex is already out of the bubble, his face alert, his fingers moving quickly as they do up his buttons.
“OK. We need to get back. I need to—” He breaks off and I finish the sentence in my head. Fire Demeter.
Already, he looks beleaguered and stressed out by the thought. Maybe some bosses get a kick out of sacking people and throwing their weight around—but it really doesn’t suit Alex.
I take the wheel this time, and as we bump back to the farmhouse, I can’t resist speaking my mind.
“You’re not enjoying this prospect, are you?”
“What, having to fire my friend and mentor?” he replies evenly. “Funnily enough, no. And I know she’s going to try to wriggle out of it, which will make it even harder.”
“But even if she wasn’t your friend and mentor?”
Alex is silent, his face taut, as we bump over a hillocky patch of ground. Then he sighs. “OK. You got me. I’m not cut out to be a boss.”
“I didn’t say that!” I say, dismayed. “That’s not what I meant—”
“It’s true, though,” he interrupts. “This management stuff—I hate it. It’s not me. I should never have taken on the role.”
I drive on, feeling a bit speechless. The famous Alex Astalis feels insecure about his job?
“Have you ever shaken up a compass and seen the arrow whirling around, trying to find a place to settle?” says Alex abruptly. “Well, that’s my brain. It’s all over the place.”
“Demeter’s like that,” I volunteer. “Totally scattershot.”
“If you think Demeter’s bad, I’m ten times worse.” Alex gives me a wry grin. “But bosses aren’t like that. They’re focused. They can compartmentalize. They like process. And long tedious meetings.” He shudders. “Everything I hate, bosses love. Yet here I am, a boss.”
“No one likes long, tedious meetings,” I protest. “Even bosses.”
“OK, maybe not all bosses do,” he allows. “But a lot of manager types do. Biscuit people do.”
“Biscuit people?” I snort with laughter.
“That’s what I call them. They come into the meeting room and sit down and take a biscuit and plop back with this air of contentment, like Well, life can’t get any better than this, can it? It’s as though they’re settling in for a long-haul flight and they’re pretty chuffed to get the legroom and who cares what else goes on?”
I grin. “So you’re not a biscuit person.”
“I never even sit down at meetings.” Alex looks abashed. “It drives everyone mad. And I can’t deal with conflict. I can’t manage people. It bores me. It gets in the way of ideas. And that’s why I shouldn’t be a boss.” He sighs, gazing out of the window at the passing landscape. “Every promotion requires you to do less of the thing you originally wanted to do. Don’t you find?”
“No,” I say bluntly. “If I got a promotion I’d do more of the thing I want to do. But, then, I’m at the opposite end from you.”
Alex winces. “That makes me sound ancient.”
“You are ancient. In prodigy years.”
“Prodigy years?” Alex starts to laugh. “Is that like dog years? Anyway, who says I’m a prodigy?”
“You came up with Whenty when you were twenty-one,” I remind him.
“Oh yeah,” he says, as though he’d half-forgotten. “Well, that was just…you know. Luck.” He comes to. “Shall I get that gate?”