Kiss Don't Tell

by Avril Tremayne

  ‘I was talking to his friends about them, where I thought they’d be heading over the next twelve months. They were fascinated.’

  ‘Fascinated, were they?’ Erica said, managing to simultaneously tweak Lane’s hairstyle and give Sarah a quizzical look. ‘Don’t you think it’s interesting that Adam had a problem with that, Sarah?’

  ‘The thing about Adam,’ Sarah said, leaning her hip against the sink, ‘is that he’s like that snow dome of mine. Remember the Sydney Opera House with all the little people on the forecourt? It had the potential to be the star snow dome of my entire collection.’

  ‘I remember it,’ Erica said. ‘You were gnashing your teeth over the fact that one of the figures came unstuck and fell over. I told you to pretend the guy had had a heart attack and the other figures were about to pop over and give him CPR, but you thought you’d have to throw it away because you are such a sickening perfectionist.’

  ‘Ah, but I didn’t throw it away. I just … put it away, and when I find a place that can fix it, I’ll get it repaired and it will be perfect again and it will go back on display.’

  Erica adjusted the strap of Lane’s dress. ‘And that reminds you of Adam how?’

  ‘I spent so long trying to shake that little guy back onto his feet that I knew I was bound to get upright again, and of course I did. But all it took was a slight knock when I was dusting the collection for him to fall over again. That’s when it hit me that there was no point shaking him back onto his feet because to keep him from toppling over I’d have to leave the thing untouched on the shelf. And that is not the point of a snow dome. They need a good shake-up regularly, and if they can’t take that, you might as well give up on them. If only I could find a person to fix that one permanently …’

  ‘Adam’s broken,’ Lane breathed. ‘Is that what you’re saying?’

  ‘Yes,’ Sarah said, and for the first time Lane could ever remember, her face was stark and bleak. ‘And he won’t let anyone try to fix him because he doesn’t like being shaken.’

  ‘The divorces,’ Lane said.

  Sarah’s eyes went wide. ‘He told you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Sarah looked at Erica. ‘He told her!’

  Erica raised her hands, uncomprehending. ‘Told her what, exactly?’

  But the other voice came and stopped them all. Breaths, hearts, everything except their eyes, which darted to the doorway of the bathroom. ‘Yes, told her what?’

  Adam.

  Standing in the doorway, glowering more fiercely than ever.

  And waiting for an answer.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Adam looked at the three stricken countenances in front of him and wondered what the fuck he was doing.

  It had been a disaster of an evening, and ending it in the women’s bathroom wasn’t going to make it any less disastrous—but it was as though his body had taken control of his head, dragged him out of his chair, and forced his feet in this direction.

  Erica, not surprisingly, was the first to recover—she didn’t have skin in the game to the extent Lane as his lover and Sarah as his sister did. ‘The infuriating thing,’ she said, ‘is that now you’ve appeared, I suspect I’ll never find out. Could you not go back to the table and make the others miserable for a few more minutes?’

  ‘Afraid not,’ Adam said, and held the door open as an invitation for her to leave. ‘But I’ll do you a favour and give you some free advice, Erica: you can do better.’ He turned to his sister then. ‘And as for you, squirt: dump that fuckhead before he dumps you. I mean it. But you’—looking at Lane now—‘stay where you are, since you have seven whole weeks before you can look at another man.’

  Erica was laughing as she gave Lane a kiss; Sarah just looked at him strangely as Erica then took her arm and led her out—and then Adam was alone with Lane and the air was thick with a tension he didn’t really understand.

  Not that he understood anything much. He hadn’t understood anything since yesterday in the jeep, when he’d insisted she come to dinner tonight. It wasn’t as though he’d told the guys he was with her—he couldn’t, because of the confidentiality clause. As far as they were concerned, he’d simply decided to bring a girl along for a change, a friend of his sister’s, and the fact that she’d arrived separately to him, at the same time as Sarah, underscored that perfectly.

  But having all that carefully in place, he didn’t understand why seeing her at the table, so cool and poised and smart, had infuriated him. Didn’t understand why he had to follow her in here and … and claim her in front of his own sister and a girl he barely knew, just because he couldn’t claim her out at the table. As if he missed her or something equally fucking stupid. He didn’t miss her. It was just … just … goddammit! It was because he’d never been with a woman for so long and it was doing his head in. He’d make damn sure he didn’t do that again. It complicated things, to be around the one person for so long. Made it needlessly emotional.

  Well, he didn’t do emotion and he wasn’t going to start doing it now just because he’d been tricked into being with a woman for six weeks and had seven more weeks to suffer through. It was time to get the emotion out of it and the sex back into it. No more walks and drives and sightseeing trips or taking in tourist landmarks. Just sex.

  ‘Lesson time, Lane,’ he said.

  She was watching him, wide-eyed and wary. ‘L-lesson?’

  ‘Royal Flush.’

  The way her eyes popped made up for the rest of the shitty night. ‘Royal Flush as in … as in Mia?’

  ‘As in Lane and Adam, actually, but I think you have the general idea.’ He nodded at the closest cubicle. ‘Now move.’

  Lane moved. And oh God, the joy of following her in and slamming the door and locking it and there just being the two of them. The wonder of turning her to face away from him, and hearing her sigh as he slid his hands around her, then down to her thighs and up under her dress, as though she’d been waiting all night for him to touch her. The unmitigated lust of the feel of her, hot and damp, against the fingers he moved between her thighs to test her.

  ‘I’m glad you’re already wet,’ he’d whispered in her ear, ‘because the key to this is doing it fast.’

  ‘Fast, yes,’ she agreed, with a voluptuous shudder.

  ‘Hands on the cistern, Lane—hurry or it’s no fun!’ Skirt hiked up, panties shoved down—that’s all it took for both of them to be ready—and he plunged straight in. One, two, three thrusts, and he was already so close it was ridiculous.

  She whimpered out a tortured sound he interpreted as a request for more, but he heard someone enter the bathroom before he could pull out of her again and they both froze in position.

  The torture, the lush and lovely torture of keeping absolutely still, sheathed in her all the way while his mouth was buried against her neck in an attempt to stifle any sounds he couldn’t throttle back, while they waited through whoever-the-hell-it-was finishing, flushing, washing, leaving.

  And then the bathroom door opened, then closed with a soft snap and they were alone again.

  Lane let out a delectable moan and pushed back against him, and he was thrusting and they were both gasping and panting and … and laughing. There hadn’t been any laughing with Mia. He wouldn’t have believed that laughing could make the experience sexier, but somehow it did, even though Lane was laughing so much she was in danger of pitching herself face-first into the toilet, so that he had to tighten his hold to make sure she was safe and secure.

  Laughing, in a toilet cubicle, while at least two women—one of whom was his sister—waited at the dinner table and, he was sure, knew exactly what he was doing to Lane while they ordered dessert.

  How could such an out-of-control experience feel so absolutely wonderful?

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Memories of the Royal Flush kept Lane busily daydreaming for the next three days while she was in New Zealand at an economics conference, so when
she arrived back in Sydney on 19 May and Erica reminded her of the family dinner planned in honour of her birthday that night, it was a shock—and not a pleasant one—to come back to earth.

  When Adam called her in the early afternoon, she knew he would have made plans for the two of them to do something, even though he had no idea of the day’s significance, and she felt immensely frustrated at having to turn him down.

  ‘How about sex under the stars?’ he suggested, almost before she’d finished saying hello. ‘I’ll pick you up at eight o’clock and we’ll drive to Mount Kuring-gai. There’s a football field there I’ve heard is great for spotting Orion.’

  Oh, it sounded so good. So hard to say, ‘Not tonight, Adam.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because I … I can’t.’

  Pause. ‘This’ll be the fourth night I haven’t seen you.’

  ‘I know, but … well, it’s been a busy week, hasn’t it?’

  Pause. ‘What about the contract? Two dates minimum.’

  ‘That clause is for my benefit, and you know it.’

  ‘Covers both of us, sweetheart.’

  ‘Yes, but I’ve already got … plans.’

  Pause. ‘As long as they’re nothing to do with David.’

  Pause—hers this time. ‘Oh. You … you know his name. Was it …? Was it Sarah who told you?’

  ‘Not Sarah, Erica. The Notebook, vodka, pizza—that night.’

  Lane licked her lips, and then wondered why she was so nervous when he’d known about David for five weeks and that knowledge hadn’t changed anything between them.

  ‘There’s nothing happening with him during our contract period,’ she said.

  ‘There’d better not be.’

  Silence.

  And then Adam again: ‘Does he know about me?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘No, of course he doesn’t! I’m the dirty secret. He’s out in the open for everyone to see.’

  ‘He doesn’t know anything, Adam. I mean, he doesn’t know … that I want to … Look, he’s not out in the open. Only the girls … nobody else knows what I … what I …’

  ‘I get it, Lane. He doesn’t know he’s in your sights.’

  ‘Why are we even discussing this? Is it … Is it an issue?’

  Pause. ‘No, it’s not an issue.’

  ‘Good, because … because … I want you to see him, some time. Or … or maybe meet him. To tell me if you think … if you think—’ She broke off, horrified at what she’d just said. Not even meaning what she’d just said. Because she knew, very suddenly, that she wanted David to be an issue.

  ‘You said you didn’t have a photo, so … what?’ he said. ‘Are the three of us going to go out for dinner? Because we tried having dinner with others, remember, and it wasn’t exactly a raging success.’

  ‘No, not that, nothing like that.’

  ‘Don’t tell me you want a three-way,’ he said—no, he sneered that. ‘Because the only way I’ll be doing that is with two girls.’

  Lane felt herself go cold. A threesome with two girls wasn’t exactly the response she’d hoped for. She’d hoped … hoped … God, she was an idiot. Because what she’d hoped was that Adam would go the full alpha and ban her from even thinking about David Bennett.

  ‘But not until after the contract lapses,’ Adam continued. ‘In the interests of continued good health, remember?’

  She took a deep breath, nice and silent and … desperate. ‘I haven’t slept with anyone else, Adam.’ She paused, licked her lips again. ‘Have … have you? Slept with anyone else? Got someone else?’

  ‘The fidelity clause covers both of us, as I recall,’ he said, and his voice was every bit as cold as Lane felt.

  ‘Yes, yes, of course. I know that. I mean do you have someone waiting in the wings, like … like me with David?’ Lane’s fingers had tightened on the phone. She realized she was holding her breath and let it out with a quick puff.

  ‘What do you care, Lane?’

  ‘I—I just … I don’t, not per se.’

  ‘Oh, not per se. Then how?’

  ‘I’m just checking we’re on the same page.’

  ‘I doubt it, from this conversation,’ he said.

  He sounded so forbidding, Lane suspected she mightn’t like finding out what page Adam was on. The page that said The End, for example. ‘Anyway, tonight,’ she said, changing the subject, ‘it’s just a family dinner. Family and Erica. Sarah, too. I … I’d invite you, but you’d be bored.’

  She waited, breath held, for Adam to say he wouldn’t be bored.

  Instead he said, ‘Okay then, call me when you know what nights you’re free next week,’ and Lane’s heart squeezed tight.

  ‘Sure,’ she said, and when she’d hung up, she sat completely still, taking in one deep breath after another, replaying that unsatisfactory conversation in her head.

  Adam knew about David. Why did that frighten her?

  David. She said his name in her head. Then out loud: ‘David Bennett.’

  When was the last time she’d thought about David, in terms other than his name and his job, as anything more than a … a concept? What did it mean that she couldn’t remember? He was the whole reason for the contract, and yet she’d been interacting with him at the office for weeks with nothing more than professional courtesy. No more trying to flirt. No thought of anything outside work.

  And all that time Adam had known about him. Had known and said nothing, asked nothing.

  Because he doesn’t care, Lane. He. Does. Not. Care.

  After all the time they’d spent together, Adam felt nothing proprietary towards her. He didn’t care that she wanted another man. Even if she didn’t want the other man any more, Adam didn’t know that and didn’t care either way.

  Despite what she’d told Erica about him not liking her in … in that way, she’d started to think—because of the way Adam looked at her sometimes, the way he breathed her in when he took her in his arms, the instinctive way he touched her—that maybe he felt more for her than she’d thought he ever could, that maybe he even—

  No!

  She stopped herself before she could take that thought further, scrubbing her hands almost violently over her face. She would not delude herself. She’d deluded herself that DeWayne would still be interested in her after they’d had sex, and look what had happened in that case!

  And all right, she’d survived that ignominious experience with DeWayne. But Adam … Adam was different. Who knew what would happen if she let herself think he really cared, only to have him wave goodbye and move on after their last lesson? Because he would wave goodbye and move on. He abhorred commitment. Sarah had told her that, and he’d told her that, and she’d told herself that. So she might as well prepare in advance for the moment he disentangled himself from her. Face that it was a fact, toughen herself up, and get on with planning the rest of her life.

  The rest of her depressing life, which would kick off with a miserable birthday dinner where her mother and Erica would snipe at each other, Brad would hit her up for some cash, Sarah’s presence would remind her of the whole unrelenting tart/philanderer/Casanova positioning that made Adam not the man for her … and she would have no sex at the end to console her.

  Happy birthday, Lane Davis.

  ***

  Lane’s birthday dinner got off to a rollicking start with her mother biting her knuckle with one look at her hair and Brad—true to form—asking her for money within five minutes of entering the house.

  ‘It’s not another investment is it, Brad?’ she asked tiredly.

  ‘Well…yes, But for a course, too.’

  ‘What kind of course?’

  ‘A silkscreen printing course. I’ve met a guy who makes the coolest one-off T-shirts and we’re thinking we might do something together but I’d like to learn the basics first.’

  Erica snorted.

  Brad threw Erica a murd
erous look and then turned back to Lane. ‘Just lend it to me. I’ll pay you back the minute I can.’

  Lane was almost too over things to bother arguing, but for form’s sake she said, ‘Brad, you know you’re not going to pay me back, and I can’t keep paying for courses you don’t finish. If you’d just wait until your own money comes through to you, it’ll be none of my business.’

  Her mother entered the fray on cue, coming to stand beside Brad. ‘And by then the T-shirt maker will have another investor and Brad will be out in the cold. It seems a small enough sum, Lane.’

  Misery congealed in Lane’s chest.

  Erica snorted again, and this time it was Lane’s mother’s turn to cast a death look her way.

  Lane rubbed at her temple where an ache was starting to develop. ‘All right. I can do a direct deposit tomorrow and—’

  ‘Not tonight?’ Brad interrupted.

  ‘No not tonight,’ Erica snapped before Lane could capitulate. ‘It’s Lane’s birthday and I’ve cooked and nobody is opening a computer for something so ridiculous.’ She gave a general glare at everyone in the room. ‘Now, are we all clear?’

  ‘All clear,’ Jeanne Davis said coldly. ‘As usual.’ She dug into her handbag. ‘But if it’s all the same to you, Erica, I have two rights issues for Lane to look at. Given she’s the only one in the family who’s managed to benefit from the stock market thanks to the way her father left things, I don’t think she’ll mind advising me.’

  Erica’s eyes took on a combative gleam but Lane shook her head, silently pleading, and said quickly, ‘No, of course I don’t mind.’

  ‘Thank you, Lane,’ her mother said, and handed over the documents as Erica huffed herself off to the kitchen.

  It didn’t take Lane long to conclude that her mother should take up the share offers but when she looked over at Jeanne to tell her so, it was to find her deep in conversation with Brad, apparently having lost interest in her own finances.

  Lane looked back down at the documents, not knowing where to direct her eyes for maximum emotional protection, and felt the pain in her temple throb at the exact moment the knock on the door came.