Bad Blood

Part Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

The Boat and Anchor was a small pub on the banks of the Thames, far enough away from the centre of London to now be hampered by tourists. But with a small beer garden on the roof terrace that had a view along the river to the landmarks of the city. It was a perfect spot, and a ten minute walk from Riker's home.

He'd been at the gym all morning, anything to avoid thinking about what had happened with Nancy in that bathroom, and how he was going to react to seeing her again today. And every day for the next three weeks at least.

Every time he thought about their third bathroom encounter, he was rock hard. Pounding in a boxing ring barely affected it, physical pain didn't get past his desire to throw her up against a wall and bury himself in her. The short history seemed to dictate that each encounter got more and more out of hand. He couldn't believe that no one else had realised what was going on, but even the previous night Chris had talked about ways he could stop Nancy getting to him when they were all holed up in hotels, no inkling that he wanted her to get to him in the most filthy of ways.

The pub was quiet when he arrived, and Martha, the barmaid, waved as he entered.

"Table reserved upstairs for you." When he smiled, she asked, "the usual?"

The usual being a pint of bitter and a ton of flirting. He'd hold the flirting today, he never shit on his own doorstep, he'd never be able to come to this pub again if he followed through on that flirting, he had no intention of that. So he just gave a smile.

Which was why messing with Nancy had been such a wrong thing. But then there was no chance of her wanting more, developing a crush as had happened the last time he played this close to home. Nancy Fox hated him, as much as he hated her. It was crazy, weird, but at least it wasn't going to become a problem. As long as she was OK with him today. Because they did have to spend a lot of time with each other.

Taking the drink and setting up a tab, he took the stairs to the roof top garden, the whole area reserved for them. Early summer sun meant he was wearing flipflops and shorts, a rare deviation from his usual black attire.

Nancy, ironically, was the first to arrive, a glass of wine gripped in her hands, the only sign of her anxiety as she crossed the patio to him. There were several tables, but he'd joined three of them together, which meant that she could sit at the same table, but a reasonable distance away.

Their eyes met, though both wore shades, he could feel that zing, and he inclined his head in acknowledgement. She looked good, a loose sleeveless t-shirt over another pair of short shorts, flat sandals and what seemed like yards of tanned leg.

You could admire something without liking it, he reassured himself as she completely flummoxed him by sitting directly opposite him. There were at least twelve other seats she could have taken.

He raised an eyebrow, and she shrugged, "I'm not hiding from you, Matthew."

That made him grimace, she persisted with using his first name, and she knew he hated it.

"I have every right to sit here."

He nodded, "you do, you have."

They regarded each other for a moment, both waiting for the other to make that move, and with a gust of pleasure washing through him, he leaned forward, "the only bathrooms are downstairs here, FYI." One – nil.

The blush was very brief, and within a second, she leaned forward, meeting him mid table, "I'm glad you know. I'm sure the thoughts of the blow job you missed out on are keeping you awake at night. I've got tissues if you need to take care of that."