by Fiona Lowe
‘You didn’t let him.’ Charlie didn’t want to think about the guy in that robe or him in bed with Lauren. He wanted to string him up. ‘That weaselly bastard cut you off from your work, family and friends just so he could feel good about himself. He separated you from everyone and everything that defines you as a person and without anyone to counter his arguments, he went in for the kill. It’s an age-old form of torture that’s still happening across the world. Thank God you left him.’
An hysterical laugh burst out of her and he flinched. ‘I wish,’ she said bitterly. ‘Don’t get me wrong, Charlie,’ she said suddenly, patting his knee briefly as if he was the one needing reassurance. ‘I’d made the decision to leave but the thing about men like Jeremy is, it’s all about control. My exit needed to be carefully planned.’
White-hot rage funnelled through him like a tornado. ‘He hit you?’
‘No. He wielded words, not fists. But the thing about words is they inflict just as much damage, only the bruises don’t show.’ She shuddered. ‘Status and social standing are important to Jeremy. He was finally working with a consultant who liked him and he wouldn’t allow anything to interfere with his plans. Ironically, I’d never warmed to Jeremy’s boss and whenever I met his timid and anxious wife, I wanted to rescue her. Now I know why I didn’t like the boss. He was far too much like Jeremy, and his wife was a woman I was fast becoming.’
She grimaced. ‘I should write and thank her, because she unwittingly jolted me out of my fog of self-doubt and saved me. Whether my ex-husband sensed a change in me or he feared losing face with his boss if I left him, he took the unprecedented move that goes against all the studies on domestic violence. He left me in a blaze of unsubstantiated malicious gossip that vaporised all my job offers. He wasn’t single long and he married again. I tried not to care but I didn’t want any other woman going through what I’d endured so I tried to warn his new fiancée. She accused me of being bitter, twisted and jealous, which was, of course, the tale Jeremy spun.’
‘You strike me more as battered than bitter,’ he said, giving her hand a squeeze. ‘So you moved east. Why didn’t you pursue ICU?’
‘I needed to come home and regroup. I started working here and after a few months, when old Dr Saunders offered me first dibs on the practice, it seemed like a logical step.’ She twisted her fingers. ‘Charlie—’ she said his name with emphasis as if he needed to pay close attention ‘—my parents think the divorce was a hundred percent due to Jeremy putting his career ahead of me. I’m never telling them about the emotional abuse. It would devastate them. They wouldn’t understand why I didn’t reach out and tell them what was happening. But I couldn’t tell them. I couldn’t admit that failure when they are so good at marriage. I’ve never told anyone about it until now.’
He felt her shame wash over him and he ached with it. She didn’t deserve to feel any disgrace or embarrassment and he wished he could do something to alleviate her self-loathing. He thought about Harry. ‘Sometimes we find ourselves in unexpectedly difficult situations that batter our self-worth.’
She gave him a sideways glance. ‘Another lesson you’ve learned working for Australia Aid?’
‘Yep.’ No. He’d learned that lesson much closer to home and well before he’d met Lauren twelve years ago. But he knew from experience there was nothing to be gained by revisiting the accident and its life-altering fallout. ‘Be proud of what you’ve achieved before and since. Draw on it for strength.’
She scrunched up her face, the action one of pure scepticism. He understood. After what that bastard had done to her, words weren’t yet her friends, but he hoped one day they could be again—that one day she’d believe them. Meanwhile, Lauren needed action and he had an idea about how he could help. ‘Have you got any accelerant?’
Confusion drew her chestnut brows together. ‘Excuse me?’
‘You know, metho, kero, fire-starters?’
‘Should I be worried that you have pyromaniac tendencies?’
‘Nah.’ He pulled her to her feet, wanting more than anything to hold her against him and breathe in the lemony scent of her hair. ‘But we do need to set fire to that robe. As I was the one to inadvertently bring it and its demons back into your life, I want to be there with you when we watch it disappear.’
She stared at him for a long moment, blinking quickly, and then she cleared her throat. ‘I’ll get the matches.’
* * *
‘Thanks for this.’ The next morning, Lauren and her new mud-free cast sat in the passenger seat of her car while Charlie drove from Surfside to Horseshoe Bay. He’d insisted on driving her to the orthopaedic surgeon and in the spirit of their new friendship she’d accepted the offer.
‘No problem.’ Charlie grinned at her.
Her stomach flipped. The distance that had sat hard and jagged between them in the days after their kiss had completely vanished. Who knew all it took was the traumatic baring of her soul? A jet of embarrassment made her look away. Yesterday, in the seconds after she’d completely lost it and shrewishly demanded that Charlie take off the robe, the full ramifications of her meltdown had hit her. In those moments, all she had wanted had been for the earth to open and swallow her—hide her from reality.
Initially, she’d hoped she could pretend nothing out of the ordinary had happened and she’d almost done it—had made a smart comment and ploughed on as if everything had been normal. But one look at Charlie’s drawn yet handsome face and the sharp, bright light in his eyes had told her in no uncertain terms that she’d lost every opportunity to keep the mortifying story a secret. She’d fully expected telling him how she’d become mired and lost in her marriage would cripple her with shame. She’d girded herself to read disbelief on his face and hear judgement in his voice, but instead he’d offered her unconditional support.
When he’d insisted she burn the robe, it had been a miracle she hadn’t burst into grateful tears on the spot. Charlie had doused the tainted garment with accelerant and then, insisting on a safe distance, had given her the match. As they’d watched the robe burn—thick, black smoke curling up into the heavy, humid air and carrying away putrid memories—he’d held her hand. Afterwards, he’d poured her more wine, raided her fridge and somehow managed to cobble together a fried rice concoction from a limited selection of ingredients.
After he’d left—she’d lent him her car keys so he could drive home—she’d prepared herself for a rush of difficult memories and the usual play of symptoms—tight chest, shallow breaths and burning pain under her scapula. They always accompanied any thoughts of Jeremy, but they hadn’t come. Instead, she’d fallen into a dreamless sleep and woken up this morning refreshed and feeling different. Exactly how was hard to name but she had the oddest sensation of freedom.
‘Fancy a coffee?’ Charlie asked.
‘The last time you suggested coffee, I nearly got hit by a car.’
‘Tea, then, if you think it’s safer.’
‘I’ll live dangerously.’
‘Coffee it is.’
She’d been too preoccupied with her thoughts to notice exactly where they were but as he brought the car to a halt, the sound of the surf knocked her back into the present with a thud. Ben’s café. Before she could suggest going elsewhere, Charlie was pulling the key out of the ignition and hopping out of the car.
As they crossed the car park, Charlie said, ‘You were right. Ben does make the best coffee in town. But even if he didn’t, the view’s worth putting up with mediocre Java.’ He opened the door for her and ushered her inside before giving the barista a friendly grin and a wave. ‘Morning, Ben. My usual and a...’ He turned to Lauren, his brows raised in question.
‘Too easy,’ Ben said, before she replied. ‘Lauren will have a skinny latte.’ He smiled at her, his dark-lashed sea-green eyes appraising her appreciatively. ‘It’s good to see you again.’
Shoot me now.
The last time she’d seen Ben had been before the accident when she’d virtually propositioned him. Embarrassment flamed her cheeks and everything inside her squirmed. She opened her mouth to utter a vague ‘You too,’ but Ben was still talking. ‘I’ve missed our early morning chats and phone calls.’
Phone calls? She’d never followed through on telephoning him but he probably thought that was due to the accident rather than buyer’s remorse. ‘Bruised ribs and strenuous exercise aren’t a good match,’ she said weakly, tapping her cast.
‘Hopefully you’ll be match fit soon for all activities.’ Ben reached for a latte glass.
‘The coffees are to go,’ Charlie said bluntly, and unexpectedly. He pulled his wallet out of his pocket and slapped a blue bill on the counter.
Ben raised his brows, but his gaze was fixed on Lauren. ‘It’s a beautiful day with a gorgeous view. Be a shame not to stay and enjoy it.’
Oh, God. Was Ben suggesting he was the view or she was the view? Had he always been such a blatant flirt? Memories of their previous conversations made it impossible not to own that they’d both flirted a lot. Charlie’s previously open expression was now closed as tight as a drum. Staying here to have coffee would be excruciatingly uncomfortable, although she wasn’t confident that leaving would be any more pleasant.
‘Sorry, Ben. We have to keep moving,’ she said, lying through her teeth. ‘Work calls.’
It didn’t. There was never a Friday morning clinic, because that was her nursing-home round. As Charlie could take this afternoon’s clinic, she’d switched around her day to fit in with the orthopaedic surgeon. They still had a couple of hours before either of them was required anywhere.
‘That’s too bad.’ Ben clipped a lid on her latte before giving Charlie his change.
‘You’ve undercharged me, mate.’ Charlie’s use of the moniker wasn’t friendly.
‘I don’t think so, mate. Lauren’s is on the house.’
As Lauren grabbed her coffee, she swore she heard a growling sound but she didn’t hang around to see who’d made it. Instead she gave a breezy ‘Thanks, Ben,’ and headed for the door.
Half a minute later she felt a hand under her elbow and heard Charlie’s rumbling voice low in her ear. ‘So, you and the barista have got a thing happening? An arrangement?’
She tried to laugh off his question. ‘No-o-o.’
‘That’s not what he thinks.’ He glowered at her.
She schooled her face into what she hoped was a neutral expression, opened the car door and hopped in. ‘You’re imagining things.’
‘I’m not.’ He threw the car into reverse, deftly manoeuvred it out of the parking lot and back onto the road. ‘I recognise a player when I see one.’
‘Takes one to know one?’
His hand hit the indicator and he turned left into Lauren’s street. ‘I haven’t played in a long time.’
Her coffee stalled halfway to her mouth. ‘Why not?’
‘Work.’
She wasn’t buying it. ‘What’s the real reason?’
The gravel of her driveway crunched under the tyres as he brought the car to a halt. ‘That is the real reason.’
They got out of the car and crossed her spongy kikuyu lawn. ‘Is that why your engagement didn’t work out?’
He shrugged. ‘Alysha liked telling people I worked for Australia Aid. She didn’t like the reality that I was out of the country more weeks of the year than I was in it.’
With her back to him, Lauren slid her key in the door. ‘Why not spend more time in Australia then?’
He followed her inside and tossed her car keys into the dish she kept by the door. ‘Why are we talking about me when the point of the conversation is that the barista was undressing you with his eyes.’
‘Why are we talking about me when the point of the conversation is the fact you’re using work as an excuse not to have any fun? No wonder you look permanently strung out.’
He was now standing very close to her, his blue eyes shot with navy and his breath stroking her face. ‘Are you planning on having sex with that surfer?’
She noted his taut expression and claimed her position. ‘I was planning on it, yes. After Jeremy, I don’t want a relationship, but I miss sex and Ben’s uncomplicated.’
Her gaze narrowed. ‘You said was. What about now?’
She licked her lips. ‘I still miss sex.’
His eyes twinkled. ‘Perhaps I could help.’
The tantalising idea hung there between them. She rationalised that she knew him so in that way he was a safer bet than sex with a stranger and this time she didn’t want anything more from him than sex. This time she was going in with her eyes wide open, but she needed rules. Boundaries. A known framework that not only kept her feelings in check but protected her from any hidden sinkholes that might unintentionally suck her down to that dark and terrifying place she’d fought so hard to clamber out of last time. ‘What about your whole all work, no play thing?’
He grinned down at her, two dimples swirling. ‘I’m technically on holidays.’
‘Yes, but can you be uncomplicated?’
A flicker of a shadow crossed his face so quickly she thought she might have imagined it. ‘Uncomplicated’s my middle name.’
Was it, though?
Don’t overthink this. Keep it simple. Take it as the gift it is. ‘Then, sir, we have a deal.’
She threw her arms around his neck as his hands gripped her hips and he lifted her off her feet, spinning her around. She threw her head back and laughed, savouring the rafts of delight rolling through her.
After setting her back on her feet, he tangled his hands in her hair and kissed her. This time he didn’t start slowly or tentatively—this time the kiss was hot, strong and long, filled with the promise of what was to come. It stripped her legs of strength and poured lava-hot need through the rest of her, making her body leap and jump and throb in a way it hadn’t done in a very long time. Her blood pounded, her head spun and lights lit up behind her eyes so it took her a moment to realise Charlie was asking her a question.
‘Sorry,’ she said breathlessly. ‘What?’
‘Where’s your bedroom?’
She grabbed his hand and towed him up to the front of the house. The sight of her unmade bed and the dropped towel from this morning’s shower made her stop abruptly in the doorway.
Charlie ran into the back of her. ‘Something wrong?’
‘Um...it’s a bit messy.’
He lifted her hair and pressed a kiss to her neck. ‘By the time we’re both naked, it will be messier still.’
A shiver of desire shot through her. Spinning around and pressing herself against him, she savoured the long, lean feel of him as she kissed him deeply. Then, without breaking contact, she tugged him towards the bed and fell backwards, taking him down with her.
His hands reached for the buttons on her blouse and she suddenly panicked. ‘Charlie, the last time you saw me naked I was eighteen.’
He grinned. ‘Yeah. I remember.’
She bit her lip and forced herself to spit out the words. ‘I’m not eighteen any more. My body’s—’
‘Still beautiful.’ His voice caressed her with its deep rumble and he tugged the sleeveless silk shirt over her head. ‘Well, that’s one thing that’s changed.’
‘What?’ Stretch marks? Five kilos? Less pert breasts?
He stared appreciatively at her pale pink and black lace bra. ‘You can afford more expensive and gorgeous underwear.’
Relief rode in and she laughed. Why had she worried? Nothing had changed. He was looking at her with the same wonder in his eyes that had been there twelve years ago. She brushed her hand across the obvious bulge in his shorts before reaching for the snap but he wrapped his hand gently around her wrist, stopping her.
‘Before we get to a poi
nt of no return, I don’t have any condoms. Do you?’
Her heart sank. ‘I don’t know. Possibly...or not.’
He groaned. ‘Can you look? We were lucky twelve years ago but I don’t take those sorts of risks any more.’
Lucky? She blocked further thought. The past and the future didn’t belong here—just the here and now. She shot off the bed, ran to the bathroom and rummaged through the back of the cabinet and then in the cupboard under the sink. Nothing. What did she expect? Why would there be condoms? She hadn’t needed contraception in a very long time.
‘We’re a poor excuse for singles everywhere,’ Charlie called out dolefully. ‘Do I need to make an emergency dash to the chemist?’
‘Hang on. I’ve got an idea.’ She raced into her study and found a box filled with butcher’s paper, coloured markers, handouts, lollies and at the very bottom a blue strip of condoms. She came back waving them like a banner. ‘I did an STI talk at the school yonks ago and we practised using condoms.’
Charlie, who was propped up on his elbows, fell back on the bed. ‘Thank you, Horseshoe Bay Secondary.’
Lauren crawled up the bed on all fours and straddled him. Charlie laughed, his eyes dancing like sunshine on a calm sea. As his hands reached up and flicked open her bra, releasing her full and tingling breasts, her fingers popped the button on his shorts. She unzipped his fly, releasing him—beautiful, silken and erect. Their eyes locked as they cradled each other for a moment.
‘You’re amazing.’ Their words broke over each other, full of reverence.
‘You want to take this fast or slow?’ he croaked, as if speaking was difficult.
She stroked him. ‘I really don’t mind. Either way is good and we’ve always got the option to reverse the order.’
‘I like the way you think.’
He moved with the stealth and speed of a panther and suddenly she was on her back and laughing. Charlie trailed kisses between her breasts and then slowly across her left breast as his hand caressed her right. As his mouth sucked one nipple into its hot depths and lashed it with his tongue, his fingers tweaked the other. Her hips jerked, leaving the bed and pushing against his erection.