Kiss a Falling Star Page 3

  Not that Caspar’s less-than-stellar history generally deterred women from inviting him into their beds. On the contrary, since he’d moved back just under a year ago, it appeared to make him more enticing to many, particularly because he’d had further to fall than most. Son of an earl, silver shovel thrust in his aristocratic mouth from birth, godson of royalty, Cambridge graduate, the world his proverbial oyster and Caspar had still fucked up. The piece of grit hadn’t turned into a pearl. Didn’t matter that Caspar had done what he did for the right reasons, the end result was what counted. The end result was disaster.

  Now he was reduced to this. Unemployed, probably unemployable except maybe as a stud—ha ha—he was a lonely, miserable masochist. He needed to change his life but he was too lazy. He needed to get a life, but there was nothing better within reach. Sex and alcohol dulled the pain. And the sex was free, albeit fleeting. Caspar tried to balance his desire for stringless fucks alongside his resentment at women wanting him because he was a good-looking bad boy. So long as they rubbed each other’s itch, where was the harm?

  In any case, even if he tried not to be bad, his past clung to him like leprosy. A good fuck and callous behavior was what they expected, so why not oblige? If he tried to do something nice, it was misinterpreted. Caspar wasn’t quite the shit they believed. He knew some of the women he’d bedded wanted more, that they sat waiting for him to call when it wasn’t going to happen, then bad-mouthed him to their friends for being a heartless prick. If he’d been a heartless prick, he’d have called and led them on a longer dance to nowhere.

  “Are you going to stick around Wyndale for a while?” Mike addressed Ally’s backside.

  “Depends if I can find a job.”

  Join the line, Caspar thought, wondering what had brought her to a small village in Derbyshire to look for work.

  Ally collected her dart from the middle of a plant on the windowsill and walked back.

  “What happened with your last job?” Neil asked.

  “It went up in flames. No one was hurt but the buildings were gutted.”

  “Christ. What sort of business was it?” Mike asked.

  “Precious metals recycling. I worked in the office.”

  Caspar imagined her in a smart suit, fitted jacket and tight skirt—giving him a blowjob while he sat at his desk. He’d spread her out on a boardroom table and lick between her legs until she screamed for him to stop. His cock pressed harder against his zipper. No doubt about it, he was his own worst enemy.

  “Know of any vacancies?” Ally asked. “I can do almost anything.”

  Caspar bet she could. The guys shook their heads.

  “We could do with someone at Mountain Rescue to organize the files, except we can’t pay you,” said Neil. “We all work for nothing, but we only volunteered because we like the outdoors. It’s like pulling teeth trying to persuade anyone to work inside.”

  Caspar emptied his glass. They hadn’t asked him.

  “I don’t mind helping out until I find something full-time,” Ally said.

  Neil grinned. “Great. I’ll be at the base all day tomorrow doing an inventory of the equipment. Anyone in the village can point you in the right direction. Pop in and I’ll show you what’s involved. You might change your mind when you see the mess.”

  If Caspar hadn’t known Neil was happily married with three kids, he might have stormed over and punched him on the nose. Shit. The sooner he fucked Ally and got her out of his system the better.

  Except he wasn’t going to do that anymore, was he?

  Caspar felt as if he had a devil on one shoulder and a bigger devil on the other. He might not leap on her right away, but in the long run, he wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation. Showing admirable self-restraint or deluded? That was the question.

  Ally stayed until last orders. Her dart playing didn’t improve. She tried hard, narrowing her eyes and chewing her lip as she concentrated, but the only thing that did was make Caspar lust for her more. Each time he spotted the pink tip of her tongue slide over her upper lip his cock gave a hopeful purr.

  The wall around the board was speckled with holes, and when Suz got uppity, Ally groveled and Mike offered to patch them up the next day. Ally had charmed the guys, bought them a round of drinks, put up with their good-natured flirting and always had a smile on her face. Well, not quite always. Sometimes Caspar thought he’d seen her wince. Probably pulled a muscle trying to score a bull’s eye. He wondered why she wore so much makeup. Reassured he’d found something negative, he kept looking.

  And looking.

  And came up blank.

  When Caspar saw she was about to leave the pub, he put on his coat and slipped away first. He waited out of sight. He doubted she lived in his direction. There weren’t many houses his side of the pub, but when the men headed away from him toward the village and she turned up the hill, his heart didn’t know whether to sink or swim.

  He did a good thing and let her go.

  Then he did a bad thing and ran after her.

  Not hard to catch up when she wore mouthwatering heels like that. It amazed Caspar women could walk in that sort of footwear.

  “Mind some company?” he called.

  She gave a muffled shriek and fell over.

  Shit.

  Caspar reached to help her up, but she scrambled to her feet before he could do little more than brush his fingers over her arm. He looked down at the path in the dim light to see what had tripped her. Nothing there, but he kept his gaze down, anything rather than look at her face in case she saw the raw lust in his and he saw disgust or distrust in hers. One fucking fingertip touch of her jacketed arm and his cock had re-inflated. Now it was going to throw a tantrum because he wasn’t going to touch her again. No way.

  Ally was mortified. Was she going to yelp and jump every time anything surprised her?

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “I’m fine,” she lied. “Tripped over the invisible man. Again. He keeps throwing himself at my feet. Bloody nuisance.” He didn’t laugh. “You’re going my way,” she blurted. “Well, obviously you are, unless you—” Shut up, moron. “I’m Ally.”

  “Yep, I heard. I’m Caspar.”

  “Oh, lovely name. Master of the treasure. So where are you hiding it?”

  He shot her a startled glance and she grinned.

  “I like to know the meaning of names. I have this theory they’re chosen for a reason. Doesn’t mean you necessarily have a pile of treasure buried in your garden, just that there’s something important in your life that you’re in charge of.” Shut up. “Well, it’s probably a load of bollocks.” Shut up now.

  “You can’t tell me where this important treasure is, can you? I could do with it.”

  She laughed. “Well, it might not be your treasure, might be someone else’s that you’re looking after.”

  He sighed. “Typical. What’s Ally short for?”

  “Alexandria. That means defender of men or mankind. I’m waiting for an attack by aliens. Not quite sure what my superpower is yet, but I’m probably the only thing that can save us from destruction.”

  He laughed, and Ally felt that telltale shoot of attraction sprouting leaves.

  As they walked up the hill, he kept quiet. Maybe he wanted silent company. Ally didn’t. It made her uncomfortable.

  “Why didn’t those guys ask you to play with them?” she asked.

  “They don’t like the way I play.”

  “You can’t be any worse than me. It was a miracle I managed to get a dart to stay in for more than five seconds. I know you’re not supposed to step over that line on the floor, but I’m fairly sure I’d never have hit the board if they hadn’t let me stand closer.”

  Another long pause. He kept his head down, his hands stuffed deep in his pockets.

  Ally sighed. Not interested in me. Maybe he’s married. “You don’t happen to know if there are any jobs going around here, do you?”

  “Not that I know of, thou
gh Wyndale Hall’s about to be used to film Jane Eyre. You might find there’s something you could do when the film crew arrives.”

  “I suppose the role of Jane is gone.”

  That won her another chuckle.

  Ally stopped at the driveway that led up to the cottages. “Well, this is me. Thanks.”

  “I’ll walk you to the door.”

  “Okay.” Her heart lurched all over her chest. Was he just being kind? What if she asked him in for a coffee? Oh damn, she didn’t have any coffee. Water was all she could offer. Did she want him to come in? Ally tried to put on her sensible hat but it kept slipping over her eyes. This was supposed to be the place and time to pull herself together and rethink her life, but after this morning, the thought of spending the night in someone’s arms tempted. More than tempted, though it would be a first. She’d never slept with anyone the day she met them. Unbreakable rule.

  How long until midnight?

  “Are you married?” she blurted.

  He barked out a short laugh. “No.”

  One obstacle out of the way, though Ally was mortified to have asked. The bloody question had expanded in her head until it had forced its way past her lips. That might not have been so bad if he’d gone on to ask if she was married.

  He didn’t.

  Because he’s not interested, idiot. Except now he knew she wanted him. Her face flooded with heat.

  Ally tried for cool. “This is where I’m staying. Thanks very much for walking me home.”

  No one had ever done that for her in London, and it was far more dangerous there, particularly for her. She thrust the key in the lock, pushed open the door and dived inside, calling “Good night” over her shoulder as she shut him out.

  Absolutely the right thing to do. Ally leaned back against the door and released a quiet moan. Absolutely not what she’d wanted to do. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

  Thank God he hadn’t been interested because the merest touch of the tip of his littlest finger against any part of her would have shattered her control. She’d have probably ripped off her jacket and screamed, “Take me!” Ha. He’d walked close enough for her to smell his soapy scent, close enough that Ally felt some sort of magnetic pull dragging her nearer and nearer. She’d kept jerking away. He probably thought she was drunk.

  “’Night, Alexandria. Sleep tight.”

  The voice coming through the door, right by her ear, sent her heat index soaring into the hot-enough-to-melt-rocks range. Ally heard his steps crunch away across the limestone chippings and breathed out. She wanted to open the door and call him back. She really didn’t want to be alone, but that was hardly fair to him even though she guessed he wouldn’t complain.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Caspar muttered as he trudged back to the road.

  His thoughts had scattered like marbles the moment she’d walked into the pub and he’d still not pulled them together. As they walked back, he’d thought about how to seduce his way into her bed. A casual arm slung over her shoulder, a delicate brush of his lips over hers as they stood at her door, a few flattering sentences—he was practiced enough. Yet words had logjammed in his head, and every time he nearly touched her, he’d changed his mind, afraid if he did, she’d lurch away. And she had kept lurching away even though he didn’t touch her.

  Once he saw where she was living, Caspar’s heart sank. She’d walked into Finn Everton’s place, and since Finn had given him a black eye two months ago for fucking his girlfriend, Caspar didn’t want another black eye for fucking this one. To be fair, Caspar hadn’t known Melissa was going out with Finn, but he hadn’t thought to ask. Just as he hadn’t asked Ally if she was married or engaged or otherwise taken. Only this time it was different. Caspar had chosen not to ask because he hadn’t wanted to hear her say yes.

  Tonight, for once in his miserable life, Caspar had done the right thing and walked away. Finn might not be here at the moment, but he’d be back. Caspar had liked Finn. The guy hadn’t acted as if Caspar had the plague. Typical that when Caspar found someone who might have been a friend, he fucked it up.

  By the time Caspar had let himself into the Gatehouse, his mood had become even more maudlin. He looked around at the sparse furniture, the work that needed to be done that went beyond his limited DIY skills, and sighed. Yet again he’d wasted money he couldn’t afford on booze, and he wasn’t even drunk. He thought about checking his emails to see if he’d made it to stage two on any job application but couldn’t muster the necessary enthusiasm when he knew he’d be disappointed. He also needed to find something else to sell online, but he couldn’t work up energy for that either.

  Only one thing he wanted to do that wouldn’t hurt anyone or cost him anything, except maybe a little pride.

  He stripped as he walked upstairs and left his clothes where they fell. His bedroom was the only one without a leak in the ceiling. By the time he reached the bathroom, he was naked. As Caspar cleaned his teeth, he stared at his reflection in the mirror and gave a short laugh. Why the fuck would someone as gorgeous as Ally be interested in him? His good looks had gone the way of his confidence. He needed a shave. The shadows under his eyes made him look as if he were a walking corpse and his hair showed the effects of him cutting it himself. No way could he afford to go to a barber.

  Caspar burrowed under the duvet and closed his eyes. The face of a pixie filled his head, shiny blonde hair curling over tiny ears, that pink tongue sliding over her lips. Her sigh of “sorry” echoed in his head and he smiled as he remembered how she’d thrown the darts. He wasn’t going to touch her, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t think about her while he touched himself.

  Rolling onto his back, Caspar reached for his cock. It was still semi-hard. When he wrapped his fist around it, his body shook with anticipation. He squeezed the tip with one hand and cupped his balls with the other then played with himself, exploring the textures of different parts of his tackle, doing what felt good without shifting into any rhythm. He wished it were her mouth on him, her pussy around him.

  Blood flowed south, and the outer skin of his shaft tightened as the core swelled and heated until he was fully erect. Caspar brought up his knees so the duvet tented above him and began to pump with one hand while he massaged his balls with the other. Full and hard, they were already drawn up in excitement.

  His breathing deepened, his nipples tightened and the muscles of his belly began to contract and release. Shit, this is fast. His hips bucked and he firmed his hold on his cock, roughly dragging his hand up over the crest before yanking it back again. He jerked harder, tighter, faster until his lungs labored and the hovering pressure of climax loomed closer.

  Caspar could have held off, gone slower, stretched out the pleasure, but like almost everything else in his life, he wanted to grab what he could when he could. Ally’s name flew from his lips as cum spurted over his chest. And hit the duvet. Shit.

  Chapter Four

  This had all seemed so straightforward. Two elements to the plan.

  Find Ally. Kill Ally.

  Found and lost again. Where the fuck had she gone? Although Ally’s disappearance had been the ultimate plan, the not knowing where and why most certainly wasn’t. Damn it. Maybe she’d realized someone was trying to kill her and she’d given a statement to the police. What if she knew who’d pushed her but pretended not to? The next knock on the door might be the cops. Shit.

  Why couldn’t the bitch have fucking died?

  * * * * *

  After Ally woke for the third time, gasping for air as she fought her way from under Finn’s suffocating king-size duvet, she didn’t sleep again. She lay with her eyes open, trying not to think. She’d left on the bedside light, but as dawn broke, the changing shadows in the unfamiliar room sent her scurrying under the covers. Even with the advent of morning, unease smothered her in a breath-stealing smog. She tried to read but couldn’t concentrate, though with only Finn’s bloodthirsty thrillers to choose from, hardly a surprise. Her m
ind refused to be swayed from replaying yesterday’s incident over and over until she saw herself leaping instead of falling into the path of the train.

  Only yesterday?

  Was I really pushed?

  Did I jump? Am I trying to pretend I didn’t?

  Ally had no wish to kill herself, even though life hadn’t been much fun recently. The “incidents”, losing a job she quite liked, coupled with lingering concern about Mark’s weirdness had made her uncharacteristically unhappy. But to jump in front of a train?

  No. That wouldn’t be her choice of exit.

  Enough thinking.

  She rolled out of bed and padded to the shower, thrown out of her routine for the second time in as many weeks. For nine months she’d risen at six thirty, been out of her flat by seven. On her way to the Tube she picked up a coffee from a well-known chain where the baristas took turns to see who could be the surliest. A quick detour to the mini-mart to choose something healthy for lunch, though after super-fit Mark had been dispatched, something good for her had morphed into a big bar of chocolate. Much more comforting than a banana.

  Two changes on the underground and a couple of miles by bus to get to PPM, Paxton’s Precious Metals, and during the whole journey Ally didn’t look, speak or smile at anyone, just to make sure she fitted in. Since the fire, Ally had been getting up an hour later, making herself a coffee then going out to get the papers to look for a job.

  Fuck. She blinked under the force of the water as a memory surged back. That’s where she’d been going yesterday before the latest…incident, to an interview at a recruitment agency. She’d email an apology.

  The shower helped make her feel human, but her bruises looked and felt worse. The smudge on her cheek had turned too dark to hide with makeup. Her body ached as though it had only just realized what had nearly happened.

  Ally dressed in jeans and a sweater and hung the rest of her clothes in Finn’s wardrobe. When she could no longer ignore the accusatory glare of her mobile, she switched it on. It bleeped to let her know she had messages and then began to ring. Ally checked caller ID—Emma, a friend who worked in advertising, who did everything at full speed and full volume.