And update time. Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to review, I'm thrilled to hear from you. :) Tiny M warning again but even less so than the last chapter ;) Next update on Saturday. Enjoy!
2nd November: Park Avenue, New York
The phone had been ringing non-stop the whole day again but she hadn't moved an inch. Over a week had passed since her sudden departure at her mother's estate and not a day had gone by without the incessant ringing of the phone. Her answering machine had suffered so much abuse that it could hold no more messages. C.C. was sitting, cloaked in a soft blanket on her couch, toying with a glass of Scotch in her hand. To hell with them all. The sentence that had become her mantra over the past few days.
She knew that somewhere between D.D.'s fake concern, her mother's threats and Maxwell's questions as to her whereabouts, Noel's calm voice was buried, but she didn't care for even that yet. She didn't care about anything. To hell with them all. Her eyes momentarily lingered on the muted TV screen where a formally dressed woman was announcing the news.
2nd of November...she sighed...could it really be November already? Her eyes darted outside, to the beautiful view her penthouse held, but today all she could see were bare trees. A breeze of wind tore harshly at the branches and sent even the last few leaves that had been desperately clinging on flying to the ground. A sea of yellow and red, a carpet for the people. Remember, remember the fifth of November, gunpowder treason and plot. It was almost time, time for the fireworks. Wherever he was in England, she knew he'd see them. Would he remember as well?
"Remember, remember the fifth of November, gunpowder treason and plot. I see no reason why gunpowder, treason should ever be forgot..." his soft baritone had whispered into her ear.
She had been sitting on the couch of the old English cottage in which his mother and father resided, a stack of contracts propped up against her knees.
"What are you babbling about?" she had asked, her tone laced with annoyance, annoyance solely directed at herself.
They had taking this little vacation to help Niles' recovery but she had taken a pile of work with her, determined not to waste time. Yet somehow between family time and exploring England, not to mention the countless minutes that had slipped past in the safety of his arms, time had escaped her. Suffice to say, no work had been accomplished.
"Guy Fawkes Day," he explained patiently "it's today. You know the bloke who tried to blow up the Parliament in the 17th century? "
"Mmh," she nodded and gave reading the contract one last chance.
"Well, it's today..." Niles repeated, giving her a meaningful look.
"And?" she questioned, growing considerably annoyed with him too by now.
"There are bonfires and fireworks!" he exclaimed as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, his eyes shining with excitement.
"Oh, I didn't know that," she chuckled now, unable to hide her amusement at his behaviour "so I'm guessing you want us to go?"
"No," he shook his head and the mischievous smile on his face grew "we'll make our own."
"You bought rockets?" she asked, frowning lightly.
"Work with me here, Babcock..." he sighed and tilted his head to kiss her neck softly "we always make our own fireworks..."
"Well, we'll see how long it'll last." she chuckled, trying to resist the effect his kisses had on her already.
"Always, Babcock, always...because we have a certain chemistry..." he grinned and hit a spot below her earlobe with the tip of his tongue.
She moaned softly and nuzzled him in response.
"You're being corny," she tried to argue, but knew she had already lost.
Because he was right, every time he touched her she felt that certain spark that other men had been lacking. That night they made love by the window, a hundred rockets illuminating the night sky above them.
She would give anything now to prove to him that he had been right; that her body would still react to his...that she still craved his touch...