She stared at the man she had only seen in photos, mouth agape, frozen in the moment.
He smiled at her.
She had never thought she would find a smile so grotesque.
‘Hi, I’m Dennis Mayer.’
‘I know who you are.’ She was surprised to hear her own voice as the rest of her body couldn’t move. If he was here to rape her, which surely he wasn’t, given his MO was crowded bars and drug-induced stupors, her physical defences against him were shot to pieces. ‘What are you doing here?’
He didn’t immediately answer the question but simply came into the room, shutting the door behind him. This time she did stand up, scooting around her chair and holding it in front of her like a barrier between them. Again he smiled. He was in no hurry as he clasped his hands in front of him. ‘Are you Charlotte Templeton?’
‘I am.’
‘I’m here to see your mother. I hear you manage her affairs.’
‘My mother has no wish to see you,’ she spat.
‘Your mother has no choice, given the crime she has committed against me.’
‘What did you say?’ This was too much. ‘You raped my mother, you fuckin’ bastard. Get out of my office and my workplace.’
‘I’m afraid I can’t do that.’ That horrible smile just wouldn’t leave his flakey face and she could feel fear beginning to seep up her legs from the vinyl floors. ‘Not until justice has been served.’
‘Then go back to jail!’
‘I’ve served my time,’ he folded his arms, ‘though I’ve always maintained my innocence and will continue to do so to my deathbed.’
She wanted to vomit.
‘And should your mother wish to accuse me falsely of rape, that’s her prerogative. Though with her mental incapacity, I wouldn’t advise it.’
He took another step forwards and she stepped back, dragging the chair with her.
He laughed, a horrible sound that grated on her ears like a garden rake on the back of a steel shed. ‘Why are you afraid of me?’
‘I’m not afraid of you.’
He spread his hands. ‘I am an upstanding moral citizen and have been for the last two years. I’m not here to hurt you. I just want a little understanding.’
Yeah right! ‘What sort of understanding?’
His face hardened slightly. ‘Understanding for a father who has already lost fifteen years of his child’s life.’
Her hands went to her throat as it closed to suffocate her. ‘Leave Zara out of this.’
‘How can I leave her out of this, when she is precisely why I am here?’ he mused at her complete lack of comprehension.
She couldn’t speak; she couldn’t think. She could barely hear what he was saying.
‘Your mother’s concealment of the truth left me unaware that I had a daughter until now. I was unable to know her, be a father to her. But now all that’s going to change.’
‘Like hell,’ Charlotte choked. ‘You stay away from her. You stay away from all of us. We don’t want you here.’
‘I was hoping we could work this out amicably between us, like civilised human beings,’ he said grimly.
‘You can’t force me to let you see Zara.’ Despite her conviction she heard her voice shake.
He shook his head sadly. ‘But I can, you see.’
She did not see at all and her shoulders straightened as her confidence buoyed. ‘I’ll get a restraining order, I’ll double our home security, I’ll –’
‘You can do what you must, of course.’ He nodded. ‘But I’m no criminal and if you think I’m here to resort to violence you’re wrong.’
He opened his jacket and pulled forth a folded document from the inside pocket. ‘I’m suing for custody. Virginia is no longer fit to care for our child and I have been robbed of time with Zara from the beginning.’ He held out the document, which she refused to take.
‘Very well.’ He put the envelope on her desk. ‘Look at it later. But consider yourself served, Charlotte. You and your lying mother.’
The horror was more than she could bear. It was a nightmare so vile that it hadn’t even dawned on her consciousness that such a thing could occur till now. A rapist demanding custody of the child birthed from his crime? It was unconscionable. How did he even have rights?
‘You can’t do this,’ she whispered, her face numb with the absence of blood. ‘You’re a criminal: they will never grant you custody.’
His face hardened further. ‘I suffered through the system that punished me for crimes I did not commit. But that blight on my life is over. I am a new man now. I own my own business. I’m married with a stepchild already. Financially, I’m much better able to provide for Zara than you ever could. So don’t call me a criminal.’ He leaned forwards, both hands on her desk. ‘According to my lawyer, my case is very solid when compared, for instance, to yours. How many mortgages do you have on that dump you call a resort now, Charlotte?’
When she remained silent, he seemed to calm down somewhat and straightened, smiling again. ‘See you in court.’
And as he walked out, she wished that he had tried to attack her physically instead. At least then, killing him in self-defence might have been an option.
With Caesar having walked off the job, it was left to her to appease the media with reasons she literally plucked from the air at random. The truth was, no one knew why the project manager had left at such a crucial moment. All they could do was push through and hope that all the careful planning they had done beforehand paid off.
Luckily, it did.
The lift points they had chosen on the shiploader allowed them to bring the large structure down without it tipping slightly in the wrong direction and thus putting lopsided pressure on the bogies. If this happened it would bend them out of shape, which would be a colossal disaster.
The weather wasn’t an issue either, even though Spooks reported that the breeze was starting to pick up.
Unexpectedly, Fish calmed everyone down with his surprisingly good leadership skills. Perhaps the man just worked well under pressure. After a few nail-biting attempts they landed the shiploader back on its wheels and in good time too. The welding crew moved in to make the new position permanent.
It was a massive relief but also the point where the media lost interest. Fortunately, Dipper had returned with Will’s ute and Em was able to drive them back to the office in groups. Here, she noticed that neither Charlotte nor Caesar were anywhere to be found. Both their offices were empty. Not that this bothered her. There was only an hour left of the day and she was probably going to spend most of it thinking about how to orchestrate her master plan.
She went on the internet and Googled ‘flirting’, to get a few ideas to expand her dismal repertoire. Better to have a full arsenal if she was to do this properly. There were quite a number of good suggestions online that she hadn’t thought of already.
Apparently, emulating body language was a form of flattery. So was laughing hard at all his jokes. Listening attentively. Batting eyes. Innuendo.
And laying hands on him any chance she got.
Reading these naughty little instructions made her feel like a fourteen-year-old tossed in puberty. She wanted to giggle self-consciously at her own daring. But was any of this really going to lead to a kiss or should she just hand him a bottle of vodka and tell him to drink? It didn’t matter. She was going to try anyway.
Just before knock-off, she left a note on his desk. Dinner, my place. 7pm. I’m cooking. See you there.
She spent a minimal amount of time on the meal. As far as she was concerned the actual food they ate wasn’t really that important. So her signature penne chicken pasta seemed like a good idea. She left it in a pot on the stove and then ordered a couple of bottles of wine from the Silver Seas resort bar. They brought them around while she was choosing something to wear.
Of all the preparation she was making that evening she figured this was definitely her priority. Normally when she spent a night in with Will,
she chose loose-fitting, lounge-about-the-house wear. Today she put on the only dress she’d brought with her from Perth. It was short and sleeveless with a low-scooped neckline. She’d packed it for its versatility. It was her little black dress, though it wasn’t black but dark green.
In all honesty, it was probably a little over the top for pasta at home but she knew she’d definitely have a better chance in it than in trackpants that sported knee holes. Combined with make up and half an hour spent on her hair, she was very pleased with the end result.
Will certainly did a double take when she opened the door. His eyes dilated and made an interesting crawl from her feet to her lips and she wondered how she hadn’t wanted to revel in this sort of attention from him earlier.
‘Er, are we going out?’
‘No.’ She smiled.
‘ ’Cause I can change.’ He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. Personally, she thought he looked delicious just the way he was in jeans and a T-shirt, smelling fresh from the shower. She still couldn’t get over how much his lack of facial hair really revealed how masculine his features were. At her lack of response, he nodded more decisively. ‘Yes, we should go out. Probably safer. I’ll go get changed.’
She laughed. ‘You’re not going anywhere.’ She grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him inside so that their bodies bumped. (Another great tip from the internet.) ‘I just felt like dressing up tonight, that’s all.’ She nudged him in the ribs. ‘I never get any wear out of this dress.’
His Adam’s apple jerked. ‘Right.’ He turned and marched determinedly into the kitchen. ‘What’s for dinner?’ He lifted the lid of the pot and seemed relieved to note its ordinary contents.
‘Just pasta,’ she said.
‘Great. I’m famished.’
Use some innuendo here. She licked her lips, sidled up beside him and then looked up like he was a big warrior just in from battle. ‘Hungry, are you?’
‘Y-yeah.’ He drew out the word slowly and uncertainly. ‘Didn’t I just say that?’
‘I guess so,’ she muttered, feeling dumb. Her eyes darted away and caught the bottles of wine resting on the counter beside the stove. Best to get the mood juice flowing. She grabbed one by its stem. ‘Wine?’
‘No thanks.’
What? Her head snapped up sharply. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Yep.’
‘Because I’ve heard this one’s pretty good.’ She hoped her tone didn’t sound too desperate. She glanced at the bottle and plucked an attribute at random. ‘It’s made at Mount Tamborine.’
‘Really? Where’s that?’
She had no idea. ‘Er, somewhere.’
He laughed. ‘I’ll pass. I’m happy just to skip to the main course. Love your pasta.’
Damn it! She should have served baked beans.
‘Okay.’ She put the wine down and tried to emulate the way he was standing, which was kind of half leaning on the kitchen counter with one foot crossed in front of the other.
‘Um . . .’ He looked at her strangely. ‘Are we waiting for someone else?’
‘No,’ she said quickly and, in her haste to move on, turned around and stuck her hand out behind her. ‘Come on, let’s set the table.’ She had meant him to take her offered palm. Instead, he walked straight into it and she grabbed a fistful of –
‘Eeek!’ She snatched her hand away, spinning full circle and backing up till she hit the opposite bench. ‘Sorry! I didn’t mean to do that.’
‘That’s all right –’
‘It was a complete accident.’
‘Em, it’s okay,’ he said, even though his face was a rather alarming shade of red. She didn’t think she was faring too well either in terms of colour. She might be trying to seduce him, but she wasn’t that forward.
‘I was reaching for your hand,’ she tried to explain.
That gave him pause. ‘But you never take my hand.’
‘I did on the Adventure Pontoon last weekend,’ she said softly.
For a moment he just looked at her in stunned silence before reaching across the stove and picking up the bottle he had rejected only seconds earlier. ‘I’ve changed my mind about the wine. Do you have glasses?’
Awesome.
‘Sure.’ She strolled across the kitchen to open a drawer. ‘I also know there’s a bottle opener in here somewhere.’
‘Right,’ he said, all business. ‘While you’re finding it, I’ll fill two bowls with our dinner.’
They each completed their separate tasks. She found two glasses and filled them. As he was still dishing out pasta, she quickly gulped down some of her wine and then refilled her glass again. She could do with some Dutch courage. The fruity elixir from Mount Tamborine certainly went straight to her head, giving her a much-needed sense of lightness. By that time, Will had walked around the counter to the other side where her small round dining table for four was located. He placed the bowls there and she brought over the wine.
He sat down and determinedly attacked his meal with eyes downcast.
She cleared her throat but he didn’t look up.
‘So,’ she drawled, trying to slide sexily into her chair, ‘what did you think of the shiploader installation today?’ As she was speaking a thread of her dress caught on some cane that must have been sticking out of the woven seat. The chair rocked slightly. She caught the edge of the table with both hands and managed to steady herself before the chair completely went over.
‘I thought it was awesome.’ He finally looked up, catching her frozen in this position after the near miss. ‘You okay?’
‘Fine,’ she choked, praying she hadn’t ripped her dress. Okay, regroup. Regroup! She pulled her bowl towards her, took a fortifying sip of wine and then copied the way Will had one arm lying beside it. The conversation dipped into their usual companionable silence broken only by the sound of their cutlery and the clinking of their glasses after they were lifted and set back down on the table again.
‘Do you know why Caesar ran off at the end?’ she asked some minutes later. ‘It seemed really odd of him.’
Will’s brow wrinkled in a way that she hadn’t realised until now she found endearing. ‘Something to do with Lottie, I think. We were talking about her when he suddenly decided to go.’
Impulsively, she reached across the table and laid her hand over his. ‘I love how you’re so intuitive with people.’
It was the truth, but she got the impression that she’d said too much. He looked at her like she’d just sprouted antennae and dragged his hand slowly back across the table from underneath hers.
‘Er, thanks.’
She glanced at her abandoned palm stretched too far across the table into his space and hastily pulled it back. Strike three! Am I out?
She gnawed on her lower lip like it was cheap squid. How could she have imagined that this would be easy? Or that he would even go along with it? Will was her best friend. This was going to be the hardest and scariest thing she’d ever attempted. She shoved her hand in her lap. Don’t make any more sudden moves.
They ate in silence for a few minutes and she concentrated on her breathing, which was irrationally shallow. Calm down.
‘So you want seconds?’
She looked up in surprise to see that he had already finished everything in his bowl. The question seemed moot given her bowl was still full. ‘Um, no thanks.’
He got up to get himself some more pasta from the kitchen, leaving her stewing at the table by herself. It was very hard to know where to go from here.
Will sat down at the table again, shovelling in another mouthful of pasta.
‘Okay,’ she began firmly, ‘I’d like to talk about kissing.’
Will choked on his penne, grabbed the glass of wine sitting near his bowl and chugged furiously. ‘I beg your pardon?’
What was going on with her tonight?
And why wasn’t this alcohol dulling his senses like it was supposed to? He was on fire and had to curb every impulse to cross his legs.
>
Em in her scruffy tracky dacks looked scrumptious to him. But dealing with her in this get-up was an exercise in self-control. She looked amazing. The way her hair brushed her dimple when she smiled made him literally ache. She cupped her chin and leaned forwards on the table in an intimate way.
‘I am single now.’ She put great emphasis on the word, making his ears tingle like a cymbal that had just been smashed. ‘And about start dating again.’
‘Uh-huh.’ He hoped he sounded tuned out rather than turned on.
She didn’t pause for breath. ‘After being in a relationship for five years I can’t help but feel a little rusty on the protocols.’
‘There are protocols?’ he squeaked.
‘Aren’t there?’ She tilted her head to one side, exposing the long kissable line from ear lobe to collarbone. ‘You’re a guy –’
‘Nice of you to notice,’ he croaked.
‘It would be great to get a few free pointers on the male perspective.’
Rule number 1. You don’t consider dating your best mate’s girlfriend.
Rule number 2. Even if they’re on a break.
Rule number 3. Even if she’s the love of your life.
Rule number 4. Even if she’s your soulmate.
Satisfied that this comprehensive list of rules should (in theory) keep him in check, he took another fortifying sip of white wine.
‘Like, for example,’ her mouth twisted, ‘what sort of kiss do you think is appropriate for the first date? On the cheek,’ she tapped that area of her face, ‘or on the lips?’ She pressed her finger there too.
What was rule number 1 again?
He looked at his empty glass. ‘I think I need more wine.’
‘Me too,’ she said and stood up just a smidgen faster than he did. ‘I’ll get it. I’m closer.’
She turned around and walked back towards the kitchen. His eyes narrowed on her delectable rear end, but with more reason than its obvious allure. There appeared to be a tear in the back of her dress just under the zipper.
He was privileged with a peek at a pair of pink polka-dot knickers. It was the straw that broke the camel’s back. His overloaded senses were now completely fried. He had to get out of there before he did something he’d regret. He stood up as she was bringing the bottle back.
The Girl in the Yellow Vest Page 29