Read Online It's Now or Never by Jill Steeples - Free Book Online Page B

fond memories of Mr Cavendish. He was an inspirational man.’
    â€˜Oh yes, and a very kind and caring man too. I live in the same road as him and after my husband died, Arthur took on the job of mowing my lawns, front and back. I couldn’t do it myself so I was always grateful to him for helping me out. I was just one of many people he helped out. You can tell that by all these people here. He’ll be sorely missed.’
    The service was a joyous celebration of his life. Both his son and daughter stood up to read heartfelt eulogies to their father and his twelve-year-old grandson, with a shock of blond hair, played a sonata on his flute which brought tears to my eyes and sent goosebumps down my arms.
    When we stood up to sing ‘All Things Bright and Beautiful’ which seemed particularly apt with the sun’s rays filtering through the stained glass windows of the chapel, I felt comforted and energised by the love and affection in the room for Mr Cavendish. I was reminded of my mum and nan too, and had to bite back the tears on more than one occasion, but overall it was a warm and life-affirming service and I was so pleased that I’d been able to play a small part in it.
    Outside, I was just saying goodbye to the lady in the purple hat when I heard my name called, a sound that sent a shiver of anticipation down the length of my body. Even before I had the chance to turn I knew exactly who it was. I’d recognise that warm, deep, seductive voice anywhere.
    â€˜Alex!’ I said, turning to greet him with what I hoped was a confident smile. Inside, my heart was beating nineteen to the dozen.
    â€˜Jen, how lovely to see you.’ He leant in and kissed me on the cheek and I caught a whiff of his scent, the same gorgeous smell that had so intoxicated me on the day of the wedding. Oranges, sun, sex. ‘You look terrific. Did you go to Hayward’s school then? I didn’t realise.’
    â€˜Yes. You too?’
    â€˜No, but my father did. He kept in touch with Arthur when he left school and they became firm friends. They shared a passion for cricket and beer, and spent many a long lazy Sunday afternoon together putting the world to rights. My parents are abroad at the moment so I wanted to come along and pay my respects on Dad’s behalf.’
    He paused, with a smile, and I noticed the almost imperceptible sweep of his gaze along the length of my body. I swallowed, feeling my body respond in a way that was totally inappropriate for what was supposed to be a sombre occasion, although I gave a silent prayer of thanks that I was wearing my black shift dress, heels and a coating of lipstick, and not my regulation Browns green sweatshirt.
    â€˜It was a lovely service,’ I said, looking away, unsettled by his presence.
    â€˜Yes, very moving.’
    His gaze settled on my face and with it I was given a sharp reminder of the intensity of his eyes that were rocking a very definite green hue this morning. Whatever their colour, they were endlessly fascinating in their expression and warmth. I thought back to the night I’d spent in his bed and could hardly believe that I’d been so close and intimate with the man now standing in front of me. I knew him intimately and yet I didn’t know him at all. If anything, he was much better looking than I’d remembered him to be when I conjured up his image in my head, which I’d done far more often than was healthy. Seeing him again made me realise just how much I’d missed him, if it were possible to miss someone you didn’t actually know very well.
    â€˜Do you have time for a coffee?’ he asked, casually.
    He was a man who looked good in a suit, the grey fabric – possibly silk, most definitely expensive – was perfectly tailored to show off his broad shoulders and trim waist. I glanced at my watch as though I might have an altogether more pressing engagement somewhere else.
    â€˜Yes, I’ve