Detained

by Ainslie Paton

  Will turned his face so he could kiss her palm, and then took her hand in his. “You’re a professional, you‘ll do what you need to do. I’ll be ready for you.”

  “I’m a professional and I’m in bed with my interview subject. How professional does that sound to you?” She shifted to sit beside him, sat cross-legged facing him. “And please don’t make a joke or an insult from that.”

  He knew enough not to reach for her. “I wasn’t going to.”

  But he had once. He’d gone so far as to suggest he might buy her like a hotel suite or a car.

  “Ah fuck, Darcy.” Now he reached, but she moved back and he dropped his hand, taking it to his head and scrubbing at his hair. “I was in the nuthouse. I’m sorry. I hated myself so much for that I took out several thousand dollars worth of glass and two good hands to pay for what I said to you.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “So am I. You have a job to do, and it’s important to you. That’s why you’ll come after me with everything you’ve got.”

  “No. I won’t.”

  He made a growling sound in the back of his throat, and threw himself back against the pillow. “Tell me what’s going on here?”

  “There’s no hidden agenda. I don’t want to interview you anymore.”

  “Okay. What else?” He was looking at the ceiling as though the answer might be on a digital display up there.

  “That’s it.”

  “I might’ve lost my ability to fathom the printed word but I could always read you.” He turned his head and pinned her with his, ‘you will do as your told stare’. “Cough it up.”

  She couldn’t pretend this didn’t matter. “What’s going to happen to us?”

  “Ah, now we’re getting somewhere. What do you want to happen?”

  “I don’t want this to be the end. I don’t want us to be a series of intense experiences in confined locations I look back on with fond amusement.”

  He spun around on the bed to face her and sat cross-legged as well, one hand massaging his repaired knee. “We’re not confined here. It’s not like we’re in detention.”

  “We’re not in the world either.” She watched his hand to avoid his eyes. This conversation scared her more than Will’s dark moods did. She knew he cared for her, knew he loved her, but not what that meant to him. Maybe not what it meant to her.

  He gave up on the knee and stretched his leg out, hooking it around her, using it to pull her and the sheet towards him. “Keep talking.”

  She kept her hands away from him, clasped in her lap, an attempt to centre her feelings when they were already on the run. “I’m foolishly, irrevocably, poisonously in love with you. I want you in my life, and I don’t know if that’s what you want too, or if this is some kind of game to you still.”

  “Ah gorgeous, it’s no game.” Will put his hand, to hers; the broken one, plaster-free since his swim, but paler than the rest of him, with a new scar from a pin inserted in his middle knuckle. “I’m not sure what I can give you.”

  “You’ve already given me so much.”

  He gave a bitter laugh and squeezed her hand. “Yeah, I got you sacked, threatened, and for a variation on that theme, threatened with the sack. I’m fucking brilliant boyfriend material.”

  “Stop.” She brought their clasped hands to her chest.

  He leant in closer. “Darcy, listen to me. I am hopelessly, irretrievably, indefinitely in love with you too.” Her breath caught. This made it real like his other signals, however strong, had failed to. “I’ve never known a woman as strong, insightful and dangerous to my health.” He put his other hand over her mouth to stop a protest. “I mean that in a good way.” He took his hand away. “My health isn’t good without you.” He grimaced in frustration. “I’m not explaining myself well.” He cupped her check. “You’re essential to me.”

  She wanted to dissolve. To wrap her arms and legs around him and meld her skin with his.

  “But I don’t know what I can give you. I have responsibilities I’ve been neglecting. I don’t want you waiting on me. You have a career you care about, you’re a big deal, and your life is out in the world.”

  She closed her eyes as her vision of happiness broke apart. “You’re dumping me?”

  He took her by the shoulders and gave her a little shake. “What part of hopelessly, irretrievably and indefinitely didn’t you get? What I don’t have is availability.”

  Oh. Relief was a soothing glue. “You’re going back to Shanghai. It’s not that far and we could meet in the middle.”

  “Would you be satisfied with a long distance affair?”

  Long distance meant time apart, but if it that’s what it would take to have him in her life, she’d take separation for togetherness. But she didn’t get a chance to respond.

  “I couldn’t be. If I commit it’s for the whole box and dice. I want the woman I’m with to harass me about working too long, and lose it with me for not paying her enough attention. I want her to resent me for being hard to live with, and keep me on my toes to make her happy. I’m arrogant enough to want all that and I want a shot at a family of my own, despite my bloody lousy beginnings. And you don’t.”

  Oh God.

  “You told me in Pudong you believed in the next headline, not forever, and you didn’t see a picket fence and little pattering feet in your future.”

  “I...” With all that’d happened, he’d remembered that.

  “You told me you didn’t want to be judged for being a daughter or a sister or a mother, and I surmise from that—a wife.”

  Oh God, oh God. In that cold room with that hot, challenging stranger she’d been trying to hold on to her identity. “And if I remember rightly you told me I was a selfish cow, and you seduced me.”

  He grinned. “And I’d do it again, but with better room temperature. Do you still believe those things?”

  Did she? That felt like a different time, a different woman. She wrapped her arms around his neck, rested her forehead on his. “You’re going to break my heart, aren’t you, Will?”

  He nudged against her nose. “Not if you break mine first.”

  “I’m confused.”

  “No you’re not. You know who you are and what’s important to you and we’ll see each other again.”

  “You want me to do the interview?”

  “Darcy, I want you to be the woman I love.”

  Her tea was cold, his hands were warm. His words were seared on her skin, a form of tattoo. He wouldn’t be the boyfriend you lazed around on Sundays with the paper, and argued with over the stacking the dishwasher. But however, wherever, some way—he was going to be in her life. They’d work it out, like they’d worked out how to irritate and please each other, how to challenge and save each other.

  When she left him looking sleep-tousled on the verandah next morning, before the heat of the day came on, she wasn’t frightened of their future any more. They’d make it up as they went along.

  Back at work, Alan tried to keep expressions of surprise and admiration out of his face when she told him about scheduling the interview with Will, and Darcy realised he’d been utterly convinced she’d fail. Her first night back in the anchor chair it felt good to know she hadn’t conformed to expectations.

  In Pudong she’d told Will she wanted to be the best at what she did and she did this well, and would learn to do it better. Her interview with him would win her time to do that, time to complete the adjustment from print to television journalism. She’d be the woman he loved. Meanwhile he’d asked for time, to finish what he’d come to Tara for.

  When she came off air, Alan was complimentary. She looked well, rested, and he’d liked the way she’d tackled the interview with the head of a charity accused of embezzlement. If he kept up the good vibes she might get a swelled head. On her way out to her car she ran into Nadia.

  “Hello, golden girl.”

  “Not so much golden, I’d say plated. The shine will wear off the minute I stuff up.”<
br />
  “Not while you’ve got Will Parker in your sights.”

  In her sights, on her mind, under her skin. He was every love struck cliché there was, except shouted to the moon about. He was her very best secret, and he was going to call tonight. She wanted to be home, and out of her work uniform in time. She fossicked in her bag for her car keys.

  “I got a new suit in for you today. Un-frigging-believably-beautiful. Why didn’t you say you knew someone at Armani?”

  Darcy shook her head. “I don’t,” but then it hit her. She pressed the unlock button.

  Nadia looked puzzled, called after her. “But you know who sent it, right? It’s exactly your size.”

  She got in the car, called out the open door, “Night, Nadia.” She wasn’t sure what was going to be more exciting, dressing in the suit Will sent her to interview him in, or having him strip it off her.

  47. Power

  “Be not ashamed of mistakes and thus make them crimes.” — Confucius

  It was good to be back in the city, any city. It was good to have Bo behind the wheel, even if only for a little while. Will sat in the back of the hired car and checked his notes spread out on the seat. He’d see Darcy in thirty minutes. He could scarcely believe how excited he felt about that. Ten days of regular phone sex convinced him being apart was going to be sheer torture, but the meeting up again—exquisite. He had to count on his luck that he’d avoid more torture, and he knew it was a gamble. Maybe his biggest. Maybe his last for a while.

  He hit redial and finally connected with Ted. After he explained the reason for the call, he waited for a reaction that would make things more or less easy to get through.

  There was a long pause and some colourful swearing then Ted said, “It’s a hell of a thing, Will, but you do what you have to do, son. I’ll stand by you as long as I can, as long as I can keep the shareholders off my back. A hell of a thing.”

  When he disconnected, Bo was pulling into the Channel Five driveway. The guy on the gate was waving them through. Bo parked and they both got out.

  “You’re sure, Boss?” Bo wasn’t happy. On his face was every doubt about this being a smart thing.

  He clapped Bo on the shoulder. “I’m sure. It’s time. I’ll see you back in Shanghai, okay?” He got a woebegone look that was Bo’s best available version of an okay, pulled his briefcase from the back seat, checked his pocket, and walked into the studio reception.

  He gave his name to the receptionist, but barely made eye contact with her. He was riveted by the poster-sized portrait of Darcy on the wall behind her. It was one of those artfully posed candid shots where the subject was supposedly unaware someone with a camera was two foot in front of them. She was smiling and her eyes were explosively big in her gorgeous face. She looked like she could walk off the wall and into his arms.

  “Like what you see, Mr Parker?”

  That was almost her phone sex voice, all breathy and low pitched. It sent a ripple of anticipation up his spine. “Very much, Ms Campbell. I see you’re a big star here.” Now he looked at the Barbie clone receptionist. “You know, when I first met Ms Campbell I knew she’d have her own show one day.”

  Receptionist Barbie beamed a smile at him, and Darcy made a snorting sound, about as ladylike as a pig in mud. She pointed to another picture, a meathead in a suit with a microphone, standing on a football field. The caption said Todd Dubsomething or other. “He’s the big star.” Then she gestured for him to follow her. “If you’d come this way, Mr Parker. We’re almost ready for you.”

  “God I hope so,” he said, using his most suggestive phone sex voice.

  She walked in front of him, and he got his chance to stare at her in the suit he’d had Pete send from Shanghai. He’d been worried it might remind her of Quingpu, but the night it arrived he’d had more fun on a satellite phone than a man with as many injuries he’d had deserved.

  “Do I get some time alone with you?”

  She spun to face him, walking backwards in incredibly sexy heels which did something to the way she balanced and the shape of her body that made him forget the question.

  “Alone, with about a dozen people watching,” she said.

  He took a couple of bigger steps and caught up with her. He wanted to touch her, but they were obviously in a public area of the building, and they’d decided to play out the misunderstanding line Darcy had spun about their private relationship, so touching her was risky.

  Fuck, risk was his middle name. He put his arm around her waist, backed her into the nearest doorway and crashed them both into a men’s bathroom.

  “What are you doing?”

  He brought her to rest against a tiled wall, doing a quick check for inhabitants. Thankfully clear. “I thought it was obvious.”

  She double blinked at him, huge TV eyelashes. “You want to be alone with me in the men’s?”

  He laughed. His destination could’ve been better negotiated. “Shut up and kiss me, I’ve missed you.”

  “In the men’s.” She was laughing so hard, he wasn’t likely to get any puckering out of those pillow soft red lips.

  “What is it with you and detaining me in confined spaces?”

  But he needed her in his arms now, to get through what was coming.

  “Will, don’t worry you’ll be fine.” She thought he was worried about the interview. It sobered her up quick, and got him good and properly kissed, slow. He could’ve stood there all day, let the legitimate visitors work around them, but they were both on a deadline.

  He helped her straighten her suit, an incredibly contrived and sleazy excuse to put his hands all over her again. She tutted over her smudged lipstick, made sure he wasn’t wearing half of it, and he checked his pocket, and did a corridor all clear before they stepped back out into the real world.

  Respectably separated she led him into the recording studios. But he found as many opportunities as possible to brush her hand or nudge her shoulder, at one point crossing behind her, and rippling his knuckles across her butt, blowing on the back of her neck.

  “Mr Parker, you are perhaps drunk?” she whispered.

  “On you, Ms Campbell.”

  “Will!”

  She left him in makeup with instructions to let them do their job and behave. He knew the next time he saw her they’d be on public show, and the time after that? Who knew? Best not think about that right now.

  Darcy’s segment producer, Merrit, collected him from makeup and walked him into the studio. He went over the agreed details and Will had to suck it up and pretend interest because Merrit couldn’t know the amount of private coaching he’d had for this.

  Darcy was standing with another man, heart attack fat; that would be the boss, Alan. The one who wanted his woman stick thin, the one who threatened her job security. Man, what he’d like to do to Alan, if he wasn’t a civilised person whose right hook wasn’t restricted by a new lump of plaster and a metal pin. He had to contend with staring at the bloke, sending him artery-clogging thoughts.

  But forget Alan. His girl, the one he’d just kissed breathless in the men’s, was coming towards him. If he was smart, he could turn their polite public greeting into another chance to grope her. But she was ready for him, picked his game.

  “Will, great to see you, you look well rested.” She stood well back from him and held out her hand, arm straight, a slight forward tilt in her body.

  He took it and held it overly long for a handshake, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “Darcy, have you lost weight? Never mind, you’re as beautiful as ever.” She gave him a behave glare, and he laughed as Merrit and Alan clocked the encounter. Fuck it, let them wonder.

  A cosy looking lounge room plonked in the middle of an otherwise empty warehouse sized space was their destination. This was where he’d start the next phase of his life, and he saw no reason to think it wouldn’t be as eventful as everything that went before it.

  “Are you ready, Will?” It would’ve been good to be able to warn her. “
This is pre-recorded so we can stop at any time if you need to.”

  This was the only part he was anxious about. He needed to be smooth, give her no reason to stop things before he got his key message, as Aileen called it, out. Not that Aileen was going to be pleased about his interpretation of her best guidance.

  “Good to go.”

  Darcy smiled, took a deep breath and expelled it noisily. She was more nervous than he was. He tried to catch her eyes, but she’d switched into professional mode, was centring herself. She gave an introduction, ignoring him, facing the camera. The whole rah-rah thing. She talked about his role as Parker CEO, the business, his fortune, and ticked off the key events making up his most infamous profile. To date.

  When she focused on him she asked a bunch of basic questions about the business finishing with the hostile Avalon takeover, and how he’d made the decision to check out of hospital to talk Ted Barstow into a partnership instead.

  “I want to ask you now about your experience being kidnapped and jailed and then later on about your childhood, and growing up in the tiny town of Tara in the Darling Downs of Queensland.” She smiled at him to show the audience who’d watch this at home how friendly this whole thing was, and by extension what a nice, neither criminal or insane, guy he was.

  They got through the kidnap with no mention of singing or his daydreaming about a blonde journalist who’d gotten into his head. Darcy mentioned how inadvertently her photo story alerted the kidnapper’s family to his whereabouts. Allowing him to assure her the role she played in investigating the murder charge exonerated her from all blame in his eyes, and made them firm friends forever.

  Cue smiles from the families at home. Cue tape of the event on the steps of the Sheraton and Will saying, “I really did check out of hospital too early. I wasn’t myself. You were a friendly face in the crowd, and I know I embarrassed you terribly. It was certainly blown out of proportion by the media in general.”

  Signal the restoration of Darcy’s honour. Prompt dashed hopes of gossip columnists across the country. For the moment.

  They got through the jail portion of the interview by focusing on what prison conditions were like. Better than might be expected. And the unfortunate circumstance of being trapped in a riot, still denied by the Chinese Government. Here Will had to steel himself not to cringe as Darcy catalogued his injuries and his recovery. He would rather have avoided this and cut to the chase.