Глава №7. Пречистенка – архитектурный заповедник Москвы. Андрей Монамс

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      He patted her hand. ‘You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.’ Then he winked and the charmer was back.

      The sounds of the park rushed back in. Leaves rustled, birds squawked and cars whooshed past on the road nearby.

      ‘Did you drive over from…wherever you were?’ Emma asked, pulling her hands from his as she shifted her weight to the other bottom cheek.

      ‘Yep. I brought the bike. I went by your folks’ place on the way here but no one was home.’

      ‘They’ve gone away.’ She could have fitted a golf ball into Harry’s rounded mouth.

      ‘Away?’ he repeated. ‘But they’ll be back by Saturday…Surely.’

      Saturday. The real reason why Harry came home the same time each year.

      Emma shook her head. ‘No, they won’t. They have taken a much needed break in the Great Barrier Reef for a couple of months.’ She watched Harry closely, embroiled in his reaction, which was a great deal fiercer than she would have expected. His brow crinkled, his skin came over blotchy as though he was trying to hold in his acute angst.

      ‘Whose…whose idea was this?’

      ‘Mine. Theirs. I don’t remember. We were talking one night about how long it had been since they’d taken a holiday together so I bought them the airfares for their wedding anniversary. They chose this time of year and I didn’t once think of asking them to postpone.’

      It made sense, it had symmetry and it showed great strength, Emma thought. In choosing not to be in town on that particular Saturday, her parents had made a point that despite past events they were living their lives. She was so proud of them and she wasn’t going to let Harry convince her otherwise.

      Ready to move on conversationally and physically, Emma gathered her bits and pieces. ‘Well, now, dear boy, your forfeited side trip means that you get the surprise early.’

      ‘Surprise?’ he asked, taking her briefcase from her.

      ‘A good surprise,’ she said, leading the way back to the street where Harry’s custom-built motorbike awaited them.

      She grabbed the spare helmet and secured the cord under her chin. Harry tied down her briefcase then hopped on and unhooked the kickstand with the ease of an expert. Emma swung her leg over the bike to sit behind him. She wrapped her arms about his waist and she was in her favourite place in the whole world.

      Harry covered her arm with one of his own as he turned his head. ‘So where to, princess?’

      ‘St Kilda.’

      ‘And what’s in St Kilda?’

      ‘My big surprise. I’ve moved out of home. I have my own apartment and this time around you’re staying with me.’

      Harry drove five kilometres under the speed limit the whole way. He needed every extra second possible to pull himself together.

      Though Emma had ridden behind him on his various motorbikes over the years, this time it felt different. Through her thin suit fabric and his thinning old jacket he could feel her breasts pressed up against him, and having the words ‘Emma’ and ‘breasts’ in his head at the one time was not a situation he had been counting on.

      It seemed that little Emma was not so little any more. The girl he had always thought of as his kid sister looked like she had grown up overnight. Gone was the cuddly girl with the hair down to her waist and wide blue eyes that looked up to him for guidance about everything from job prospects to her love of drawing to boys, and in her place was this urbane woman with something in her eyes he had never seen before. Was it wisdom? Or maturity? Or experience? He wiped that thought from his mind as quickly as he could.

      Considering he hadn’t seen her since the same time the year before, he should have seen it coming. She had always been a cute girl, cute enough to whisper at the edge of his awareness repeatedly over the years, but he had long since shouted down those whispers with the memory of why he had no right to be thinking that way about her. So he probably had seen the changes coming and had ignored them outright. But now he could feel Emma’s warm body wrapped about him and, as if that was not distraction enough, he was driving her to an apartment. Where she lived alone. Where according to her, he would be sleeping for the next week.

      He was surprised at how that news had startled him. She was, what, twenty-four? Of course she had her own place. It was about time. The sweetheart had kept her parents company, looking after their every concern, sorting out problems before they even knew they existed, playing the good girl for longer than anyone could have asked.

      Helping those in need was Em’s defining quality. She was always looking out for everyone else’s interests before her own. He knew, despite her brave face, that having her parents so far away at this time of year had to have been distressing, but so long as they were happy she would never think to disapprove.

      She tapped his shoulder as they came up to a red four-storey building a couple of streets away from the beach. He pulled into the driveway and felt a welcome rush of fresh air at his back as she uncurled her soft body from behind him. He grabbed her briefcase and his old leather backpack from the back of his bike and followed her up the steps, his eyes raking over the building and the grounds—anywhere but on her casually swaying hips, which were wrapped in some unbelievable stretch fabric which he was pretty certain was designed less to clothe and more to stun unsuspecting men.

      She turned to him at the top of the stairs with the key in the door. ‘Ready?’ she asked.

      Her dazzling grin relaxed him no end. It was young and girlish and reminded him that this was Emma. Little Emma. Sweet Emma. Princess Emma. The girl he had berated when he had caught her smoking at age fifteen. The girl who would do anything he asked, and he had something pretty tricky he was about to ask.

      He rubbed his hands together. ‘Ready and raring.’

      ‘Now, it’s only tiny so don’t get too excited. But please feel free to get very excited as, although it’s tiny, I love it.’

      He crossed his arms and waited for her gushing to cease.

      ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Just come in.’ She opened the door with a flourish and welcomed him into her home like the ringmaster in a circus.

      The mushroom-coloured walls were so clean he could tell the place had been recently painted, and the dark wood furniture and white couch had that just-purchased look about them. But the thing that caught his attention the second he walked in were the ceiling-to-floor shelves lining one whole wall, surrounding and swamping the small television. The shelves held enough DVDs to fill a rental store.

      He stepped up and ran a finger over the spines. Funny Girl. How to Steal a Million. The Fifth Element. All romance films. There were comedies, tragedies, action adventures, but they were all romantic. His face warmed with a smile. Trust sweet Em to throw herself into a collection like that.

      ‘So what do you think?’ she asked, her brow furrowed in such adorable concern.

      ‘Do you really own all of these movies?’

      She glared at him, her hands on her hips. ‘No. I rented each and every one and never took them back. Of course I own them all. Now, what…do…you…think?’

      ‘It’s a very exciting apartment,’ he promised.

      She gave a little nod. ‘That’s better.’ She threw her keys on the hall table and he followed her down the hallway.

      She disappeared inside one room off to the right, singing sweetly under her breath, something familiar and pretty that reminded him of a chick flick she had forced him to sit through once. Harry followed at a distance.

      Finally she poked her head out into the hall. ‘Come on, slowcoach. The grand tour will only take about thirty seconds, even if you look under every cushion and open every cupboard door.’

      He did as he was told and came upon her in