‘Two for Alan and his date and one for me.’ He paused, eyes on her face. ‘The fourth is for you.’
Her reaction was everything he’d hoped for. Wide eyes, gold specks sparkling. Red lips parted and inviting. Index finger pointing at his chest.
‘I told you I don’t attend matches, only watch bits when I’m visiting friends who have the television on. Take someone else.’
She was magnificent, head high, chin jutted and eyes that flashed defiance. He stored the memory and prepared to counter.
He caught her finger in one hand, and cupped her chin with the other, stroking the silken underside of her stubborn jaw. Inhaled deeply as her eyes softened in response to his action. He so wanted to let her off the hook but it was more important to have her exorcise this demon.
‘Lauren, you bound the whole concept of your perceived lack of parental attention with the sports your brothers played. Come and put it to the test. One game. Share a Crows win with me. Supper’s on Alan.’
She looked down, bit her lip, and made a flimsy attempt to free her hand. It took little effort for him to hold on. She finally peered up at him and tilted her head.
‘Do they still sell hot dogs?’
His heart swelled to bursting point. She was adorable.
‘As many as you want, darling.’ He pulled her into his arms and if the oven’s timer hadn’t rung, dinner would have been served a lot later.
* * *
Lauren liked Kaye at first sight when she arrived in the office with Alan and pizza. She was a trim, toned extrovert and an avid Crows fan, wearing all the club regalia and waving a beanie at a protesting Matt.
She also had a photo on her mobile screen showing a litter of squirming newborn puppies. A wriggling mixture of brown, white and black.
‘You promised to wear it for the rest of the year if I found a suitable puppy for your nephews. These are a cross breed of black Labrador and German shepherd. They’ll be gentle and protective, perfect for active children. You get first pick and they’ll be ready to take home in five or six weeks.’
‘They’re adorable. Are you going to let the boys choose?’ Lauren enthused, wishing she could have one too. Not practical with her profession or in an apartment.
‘Under supervision, otherwise we’ll end up with a car full,’ Matt insisted, jamming on the hat. He’d cleared his desk for the meal and, when the others went to fetch chairs from Lauren’s office, he muttered in her ear.
‘She cheated, made the deal when our forward was lining up for a winning goal, sixty metres out and less than a minute on the clock.’
‘If you agreed, it’s binding.’ She grinned at the usually stylishly dressed man—even in casual clothes on the weekend—now in well-worn jeans, football jumper and that distinctive beanie. And loved him even more.
‘You siding with Kaye?’ He gave her a hard, lip-smacking kiss. ‘I can think of a few bets I’d willingly lose to you.’
She recalled hours of sitting rugged up on cold benches, being bumped and bruised by excited supporters. She thought of days wasted setting up stalls, being bored and trying to persuade people to buy merchandise or raffle tickets. Now she looked into hungry blue eyes and knew she’d go through all of that in a thunderstorm if he were beside her.
* * *
Matt kept a tight hold on her hand as they walked to the stadium, joining an ever-growing throng that bottlenecked at the bridge over the river. He kept telling himself this was for her but that excuse was wearing thin. It was he who wanted to share his enthusiasm for their national game, who wanted to see her lose her inhibitions and cheer with the mob. It was he who wanted her with him when they played in the finals.
It was a full house by the time they bounced the ball for the start and the noise was deafening. For the first time ever his concentration wasn’t out there with the players. He watched Lauren, quite prepared to take her out if she became stressed. Instead he saw interest grow as her eyes darted from the field to the big screens and back.
His heart usually pounded at the fierce interaction between players, now it was because she leant forward as they ran, held her breath as they shot for goal and flopped back when they missed. By the fourth quarter, she was on her feet with Kaye every time the lead changed, face flushed and eyes shining. And he didn’t care an iota that he missed most of the action on the field.
‘A twenty-eight-point win. Our best this year.’ Kaye danced up the steps, arms swaying with her scarf held high. ‘You must be our lucky charm, Lauren.’
Matt hugged her close ‘You are definitely mine.’
Lauren clung to him, treasuring his words. The excitement had been contagious. Her head spun, whether from the buzz of the crowd or the shock of discovering the thrill of the game overrode her inhibitions, she wasn’t sure. As if tied to Kaye with invisible bonds, she’d found herself leaping to her feet and calling out phrases she’d never spoken, hadn’t known she’d memorised.
Matt was grinning as if he’d been the star forward. Not a smug, I-told-you-so smile; he was genuinely happy for her. Had she been wrong all her life or was she seeing everything through new eyes? And if she had changed because she loved him, why couldn’t he love her for the person he was helping her to become?
* * *
Monday afternoon Matt decided to grab a chicken wrap on the way back from the bank. Funny how easily he’d adapted to healthier meals and salads. Not funny that in a week he’d be eating alone again.
Lauren. His pulse hiked up, and he quickened his pace as he saw her opening the door of a café across the street. He halted when she spoke to the dark-haired woman entering behind her. She hadn’t mentioned meeting anyone.
By the time he’d crossed at the lights and walked along, they were seated at a table studying menus. An old friend she’d caught up with? He wouldn’t disturb them; she’d tell him over dinner tonight.
She didn’t. She was quiet and withdrawn, claiming fatigue and a headache. Concerned, he persuaded her to take a tablet and go to bed. In the morning he left her sleeping.
Tuesday was no different. She blamed it on the current autumn virus and he had to admit she looked unwell, though she didn’t cough or sneeze. Was she depressed thinking of the shrinking time they had left? That he understood.
He’d never considered a cross-country romance. There’d never been a reason to. The idea of seeing Lauren only on weekends was gut-wrenching but better than not being with her at all. Would she be prepared to try?
* * *
Alan’s text came through as he was driving to work Wednesday morning, and he read the short, concise message in the lift. Apprehensive, and with fingers tapping his desk, he accessed the online morning papers. The small article tucked away in one of the business sections sent his world crashing in flames.
Names weren’t mentioned but anyone with determination and knowledge of the company or his father could identify them. Obscure hints were made of illness, legalities and the long-term viability of the business. His temper rose as he researched the reporter, found her profile and photo.
And his fragile faith was obliterated in a torrent of bitterness, far worse than all the other betrayals combined. This was the woman Lauren had been with on Monday, the reason for her reticence since.
She was one of the very few who had knowledge of his father’s dementia and fraud. What reason could there be for meeting that woman? Why?
His chest heaved, and anger ruled as he reached for his keys. Threw them down, snatched up his mobile, and paced the floor until Lauren answered.
‘Matt?’
Diffident and wary. Guilty?
‘Who was the woman you were with on Monday?’ Grated out without polite niceties.
Her quick gasp sharpened his pain. Her silence exacerbated his temper.
‘She’s a damn reporter. Wha
t did you tell her?’
‘You...I’m...’
‘Lost for words, Lauren. What am I? A magnet for cheats and liars? Dad, Christine, and now you? Do you have any idea what I...? No, you wouldn’t. I can’t bear to see you. Don’t want to hear your voice.’
He hung up, tossed his phone on the coffee table and sank into a chair, burying his head into his hands. This was it. He’d never fully trust anyone again.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
LAUREN CURLED UP on his settee, buried her head into his cushion and sobbed at his tirade. How could he believe she’d break her promise?
Idiot, stupid, stupid idiot. She hadn’t realised the woman was a reporter until she’d begun to ask about Marcus. Fearing he might be annoyed that she’d been duped into the conversation, she hadn’t told him. Things the woman had hinted she knew could only have come from one of the select few people he trusted implicitly.
He hadn’t said what the reporter had claimed to know, only accused her of telling family secrets, and she had no way of proving her innocence. Maybe if she had been truthful with him he’d be looking for the real culprit. Instead he’d condemned her without even seeing her, proof his caring had been superficial.
She rubbed the tears from her cheeks, and went to wash her face with a cold flannel. The red-eyed wreck in the mirror gave her no choice.
She loved him so she’d make it easier for him. He didn’t want to see her so she wouldn’t be here when he came home. She booked a flight, packed her belongings and called a taxi.
* * *
Matt hadn’t needed his cousin’s harsh rebuke over the phone to know he’d been wrong to call her in anger. Personal confrontation when he could see her eyes and read her expression would have been better. Didn’t change the reality. Or did it?
Alan had rung to say he’d done what Matt should have—checked and found out the reporter was ambitious, and not particularly scrupulous in her methods of obtaining information.
He couldn’t postpone the morning’s scheduled meeting though he came close to doing just that. It was crucial to the company’s survival, especially after today’s media article. With the prospect of legal proceedings giving him motivation, he blocked Lauren from his mind and went to the boardroom to fight for his and the company’s future.
He deliberately stayed late at the office, arriving home to a dark and silent unit. Refusing to acknowledge the sour churning in his gut, he walked in.
I can’t bear to see you. Don’t want to hear your voice.
His words echoed in his head. He sagged against the door jamb leading to the kitchen area. The table was bare. The vase had gone. Lauren had gone.
* * *
Lauren had never felt more alone. She ached for Matt’s smile, his spine-tingling touch, and his midnight-blue eyes that could make her pulse race from across a room. She even missed his cajoling her to reassess her relationship with her family.
Knowing he believed she’d betrayed him tore her apart. Knowing she had unconditional support from her friends held her together. Whatever they suspected, they’d never push, would give her all the time she needed until she was ready to confide in them.
On Wednesday night, she cried herself to sleep, reliving his caresses, his kisses. The passion they’d shared. On Thursday she wandered aimlessly for hours, stopping only for drinks and an occasional snack. On Friday morning she went to see her employer and resigned. When she got back to the units, Pete was home so she told him.
‘You can’t, Lauren. You’re the best. You love digging out the solutions where others have failed. You...’ Words failed him and his arms flailed in the air.
Lauren shrugged. She’d lost enthusiasm for her work, and her heart hurt every second of every day. Matt didn’t want her, didn’t love her and had never really trusted her. He hadn’t bothered to ring but she’d have blocked the call if he had. His throaty voice was implanted in her brain. She heard it every night as she lay alone in her single bed. Didn’t need to hear the reality and have her heart ripped apart even more.
‘I’m going to teach.’
Pete made a scoffing sound, and dropped down beside her on the sofa. ‘You’ll be bored and climbing the walls in a week. And the salary’s crap.’
‘Private lessons to adults. One on one showing them just the functions they want to use on their own personal computers. I’ve done it for friends, and they all said they knew people who’d pay for the service.’
‘You’ve thought it through? It’s really what you want?’
‘For now it’s what I need, Pete. Who knows what’s ahead?’
Nothing but memories and what-ifs for her. Her throat tightened—it seemed to do that a lot lately—her breath hitched, and she shivered.
In an instant she was wrapped in friendly arms, her head was cradled to his shoulder and his hand made soothing strokes over her back.
‘I’d like to find the guy who hurt you and feed the most destructive viruses I can find into his computer system. And him.’
She choked up at the thought of polite, pacifist Pete going into battle for her. She felt warm and cared for, knowing he meant it and that the others would back him up. They might not have Matt’s name or details of the breakup but he was now the enemy.
Easing away, she stood up and brushed off the few tears that had escaped.
‘Save your knight-in-armour mode for Jenny. He wasn’t completely to blame. He’d been betrayed by someone he trusted and circumstances showed me in a suspicious light.’
‘Loving means trusting.’
Which again proved Matt didn’t love her.
‘And the only way is forward. I’ll take each day as it comes.’
And hide my torment in the dark nights.
* * *
All Matt wanted to do was to cower in a dark corner and lick his wounds. Nothing he’d suffered before had prepared him for the gut-wrenching pain whenever he thought of her, which was almost every minute of every day. He lay awake remembering the nights they’d spent together, reached out for her in his restless sleep on the couch.
The sun was rising as he drove into the city on Monday, an unneeded reminder of last weekend. Telling himself he was better off without her had no effect. His brain kept repeating one word over and over. Why?
Mid-morning he brewed another mug of strong coffee, couldn’t bear to drink it in his office. Even with the connecting door shut, he kept glancing that way as if she’d suddenly appear. He walked to the boardroom because she’d never been in there but she came with him now, in his head and his heart. There was no escape.
On the way back, the lift doors opened as he went through Reception and Clair stepped out. Surprised by her tentative smile when she saw him, he walked over.
‘I didn’t expect to see you, Clair. You’re always welcome, of course.’
‘I had to come. Can we talk?’
Her apprehension triggered a kindred unease. That damn article? Duncan had already assured him the reporter’s insinuations hadn’t affected his opinion at all. There was nothing he wasn’t aware of and their association wouldn’t change. He was also convinced the people who mattered wouldn’t equate Marcus’s condition with Matt’s aptitude to run the company.
‘Of course, this way.’ He guided her to his office, and over to the window seats.
‘Coffee or tea?’
‘Not now. Please, Matt, sit down. This is personal and it concerns you.’
His gut tightened as he obeyed. Lauren? He’d told Duncan she’d returned to Sydney. Not why.
She fiddled with the handle of her bag then dropped it onto the floor. He leant forward and took her hand, shocked to feel its trembling.
‘What’s wrong, Clair? If there’s anything I can do, just ask.’
‘It’s the other way round, Matt. I came be
cause I’m partly responsible for that reporter’s knowledge, limited though it was.’
‘You?’ He shook his head, couldn’t take it in. A chill seeped into his muscles and he dreaded hearing more.
‘Your mother came to our group lunch two weeks ago, first time for ages. We were chatting in a quiet corner and she began to tell me about her problems with your father and his deterioration. I should have suggested we talk later somewhere more private but she was desperate to let it all out.’
The chill became icy. Every cell in his body seemed to shrink and close down. He had a vague awareness of letting go of her hand, of his shoulders slumping.
‘She said your father kept telling her things she knew weren’t true or dropping hints about special funding for his secret hideaway retirement. She didn’t want to worry you or the family with his fantasies, just wanted someone to sympathise with her.’
His mother had confided in a friend because he’d built barriers between them. She’d been overheard and Lauren was innocent. The reporter had been trying to get confirmation or more details. It was as if he heard the facts but couldn’t process them through the fog in his head.
‘Duncan showed me the article, and this morning I found out the woman who wrote it had been at the venue. I noticed her hanging around, and assumed she was a guest. I’m so sorry, Matt.’
Oh, Lauren, what have I done?
Guilt and anguish raked him, his throat clogged, and his stomach heaved. Condemnation roared in his head. Sweat dripped down his back, and his fingers balled into fists.
‘Matt. Matt, are you all right?’
His mind cleared. Clair was leaning forward, regarding him with deep concern. He shuddered back to reality.
He’d listened to her, heard what she said. He hadn’t heard Lauren’s explanation because he hadn’t given her a chance to tell him.
‘No. I think I’ve made the worst, stupidest mistake of my life and I’m not sure she’ll ever forgive me.’
A Bride for the Brooding Boss Page 16