Keeping Her Up All Night

by Anna Cleary

  He noticed her stiffen and the set of her delicate jaw firm slightly.

  She’d spotted him, then. As a spontaneous response, it was hardly flattering. More like a skewer through the guts. One way or another, he really needed to fix things with her.

  Amber’s heart thumped with the stress. What was he doing here? Invading her professional life? This was wrong. All wrong.

  An elderly major from the eighth floor was bending his ear while Guy lounged in his chair nodding, occasionally smiling. She could see him charming the old digger’s socks off. Smiling. Convincing the old boy there was nothing in the world as interesting as his reminiscences about the war.

  Guy looked around at her then and their eyes clashed. She saw his face stiffen for an instant, but that might have only been a shadow because it was gone in a trice. He just nodded coolly and went back to the war story as if she was no one of importance.

  Strangely, though, in spite of her cynicism, she had the strongest sensation his cool was a total sham. He was as aware of her as if there was no one else in the room.

  She knew it with absolute certainty. Because although the room was filling up, buzzing with people, groups chatting here and there, the usual throng gossiping by the desk, she felt gripped by exactly the same obsessive awareness herself.

  Heaven forgive her, but right at this moment no one else in the room existed. In fact, it wouldn’t have come as a surprise to her to learn that he’d engineered his way into the meeting specifically to pursue her. But why?

  Her tension increased. Had he thought she was playing some game with him this morning? Didn’t he understand she wanted nothing of him?

  She waited until a couple of people blocked his line of sight before sidling up to the table and reaching through a chink between bodies for a copy of the agenda.

  Before she could snatch one Guy’s hand was there first. His fingertips brushed hers, and it was like a couple of electric wires crossing. As his intense darkened eyes clashed with hers the breath was knocked from her lungs. She had a wild fleeting impression of showering sparks, sizzling air, walls shaking.

  He handed her the sheet. ‘Hello, Amber.’ His voice had that darker, quarry pit quality from the other night.

  ‘Oh. Hi … er … thanks.’

  She backed away, then scouted about for a chair, choosing an inconspicuous place near the exit, from where she could keep her eye on the desk without seeming to.

  She wasn’t shaking, was she? No. She just felt … a little … shaken up.

  She felt pretty sure the thudding going on in her chest was from adrenaline. But if he was hoping to succeed in seducing her again by intruding into every area of her life he was wasting his time. Nothing he said could make the way he’d treated her acceptable. Nothing.

  That was exactly the trap she’d fallen into with Miguel. Time and time again. He’d make her feel sorry for him, she’d forgive him, then he’d act like an even bigger jerk than before.

  Across the room she caught sight of Roger in a huddle with some of her arcade neighbours, including Marc and Di Delornay.

  Amber glanced again. Was there was something strange about them? They looked quite secretive. Conspiratorial, almost. Were they plotting something?

  Di looked over at that moment and crossed gazes with her, then muttered something out of the side of her mouth. Worryingly, the others all stopped talking. Some cast Amber covert glances, then the group broke up.

  Had they been talking about her? What about? Something to do with the shop?

  She tightened her hold on the agenda. Too bad. They could talk all they liked. She had nothing to apologise for, and right now more pressing issues to deal with. Despite her edgy pulse, she threw them all a breezy wave and pretended to read.

  If he had to be here, it was a good thing Guy was taking the minutes, actually. Because it meant she could slip away before the meeting ended. Before he had a chance to waylay her. He’d be stuck here, noting down every last word.

  The moment arrived when the hum of conversation eased. The chairperson, large in cyclamen, gathered her majestic bulk and called the meeting to order.

  ‘Most of you will have met Jean’s nephew, Guy,’ the chair announced, twiddling her pearls and beaming through the diamanté frames of her specs. ‘Guy’s kindly offered to fill in for Jean in her absence. I think you’ll agree it’s wonderful of this busy, busy man to give us a slice of his precious time.’

  ‘Hear, hear.’

  There was a small round of applause, then the meeting got underway, with sundry minor items being thoroughly dissected by the residents while the business owners sighed and stared at the ceiling. Guy seemed to take his secretarial role seriously, typing occasional bursts on his keyboard and listening intently.

  Every so often the chair turned to him and asked for his opinion, just as she usually did with Jean, and he answered with such calm, intelligent reason Amber gritted her teeth. All right, she could admit he appeared to have a certain authority.

  She could see people warming to him. And why wouldn’t they? He was charming. She’d warmed to him. And he had that sophisticated aura of the city hanging about him. Honestly, every time she saw him he looked less and less like the musician she’d made love with. Though how her mind could even think those words in reference to him without choking …

  No, now he looked quite the slick, corporate advertising man he appeared on his website. A purely objective scan of his face revealed his five o’clock shadow, advanced since this morning. And it so suited his lean face. Drew aching attention to the sensuousness of his chiselled mouth. A mouth she’d kissed.

  Had kissed her.

  That trick he had of smiling with his eyes as he listened to someone …

  Involuntarily, her insides curled over. She fixed her gaze firmly on her agenda. Looking at him was painful.

  If everyone here knew how deeply cold and ruthless he was in his private life, they wouldn’t all be queuing up to agree with his opinion. As if he was now the final authority on how to deal with everything from the City Council to the janitor. Considering his casual way of treating Jean’s flat, there was such irony in that.

  Amber’s eye fell on the last item on the agenda. ‘Tenancy Relocations’. What was that about? Marc was probably hoping it referred to Fleur Elise.

  Guy gave half his brain to the proceedings, sifting out the crucial points with the expertise of experience. The other half was focused on framing some words. Lyrics had never been so tricky. How had he ever made such a complete hash as he had this morning?

  Still, was there a woman in the world who was straightforward? This morning he’d finally comprehended something about Amber. It had rocked him. Made his heart clench at odd moments all day. It was no wonder his conscience was burning like hell.

  He’d seen it in her before without understanding. But now …

  He hated this feeling of having bruised something delicate. It had hit him with blinding force that Amber O’Neill was as tender as one of her own rose petals.

  Roger, the CEO, rose from his chair, still blathering, and walked around to plant himself before the assembly.

  Foiled by good manners from making an early escape, Amber shifted restlessly in her chair. How much longer did she have to stay here, avoiding Guy Wilder’s piercing gaze?

  Roger cleared his throat and she gave him her unwilling attention.

  ‘As you know, in a centre like this it’s the management’s job to guarantee that every business maintains a professional standard. I’ve been in discussion with some of you about your particular issues, and most tenants—’ here he cast an approving look around the room ‘—in fact I think I can report that nearly all have either complied already or have signed the agreement to meet our renovation deadline.’ He frowned down at his notes, then scanned the assembled faces. ‘There are still a couple of people who haven’t settled their plans with us yet.’

  Amber’s insides lurched as his probing gaze scanned the faces, then
settled on her.

  ‘Just wondering how you’re travelling with this, Amber? I have at least one applicant willing to lease your location if you don’t want to keep it on. Let’s see—your lease expires two months from now. Have you made any arrangements to move out of the arcade?’

  Amber blenched with shock. To move?

  Her brain seemed to slow down to a sort of paralysis. Was he being serious? Could he really be saying what it sounded like?

  Hot with confusion, she grew aware of all eyes turning in her direction. With a pang she realised Guy was witnessing this. Her public humiliation.

  With all her being she wished he was a hundred miles away.

  Unable to help herself, she shot a covert glance in his direction. Not focusing directly, of course, but she could feel his gaze torching her face. She felt herself turning a slow, agonised red.

  If there truly was a heavenly host, now was the time for them to sink her through the carpet. She could sense everyone waiting. What did they expect her to say? They knew she didn’t want to move. She couldn’t afford to. Roger knew it. They all knew it.

  Guy sat very still, a pulse ticking in his temples, uncomfortably conscious of her embarrassment. He willed her to speak.

  At last.

  Her voice when it came was low and sweet. Proud. Scared.

  ‘I wasn’t planning any such thing. My mother bought this lease and I’m hoping to extend it. I’m intending to stay right here.’

  ‘Ah.’ Roger smiled again smoothly. ‘Well, good … good.’ He flicked a glance towards one of the groups. ‘Then, in that case, I have some copies of the agreement here with me now, Amber. For everyone’s peace of mind I think it best we settle this for good and all. Right here, right now. Everyone okay with that?’

  Guy noted the chorus of mixed responses. It seemed not everyone thought the matter should be handled in a public forum. Thank God there were a few good people who murmured dissent. He studied the guy handling the discussion. What was going on here, really? Why publicly embarrass one of his tenants? There had to be a hidden agenda.

  Conscious of feeling under attack, Amber noticed to her eternal gratitude that some people sprang to her defence. Even the fruiterer spoke up.

  ‘Mate, give the girl a break. She’s only had the reins a few weeks. Let her find her feet. We can all wait a little longer.’

  Though not all her friends acted like friends.

  ‘No, people. No. That is so not the point.’ Marc sprang to his feet and clutched his sideburns in agitation, his huge dark eyes showing their whites. ‘This is the moment to strike. We all need certainty that this issue is being dealt with. I for one need closure.’

  In shock, Amber gasped, ‘What? Closure of my shop?’

  ‘I’m afraid I agree with some of what Marc says,’ Roger said. ‘With all due respect to your recent situation, Amber, people here have a legitimate right to expect certainty. Are you prepared to meet your obligations to us all and have your premises renovated within two months?’

  Amber stared at him. She tried to swallow, but her saliva evaporated. It was mortifying, hearing the pleading note in her own voice. ‘Oh. Does it have to be within two months?’

  ‘I’m afraid it does. With respect, we tried for several years to negotiate with your mother to do the same thing. I’m afraid our patience has run out. Other owners are expressing their concern about the lack of an appealing entrance at that end of the mall.’

  Guy almost felt the flinch in Amber’s face as a small vociferous group swarmed with offers to take over her location.

  ‘It’s so dreary down there I’m ashamed to be seen coming in that way,’ one woman declared.

  ‘Oh, I know,’ one heavily made-up harpy drawled, with posh, plummy vowels. ‘If I had the location Madame would have a stunning, very chic display. I’d want it to be vibrant.’ She flung out her bejewelled hands. ‘Eye-catching enough to attract the traffic trade and pull customers in from the street.’

  The approving smirk the manager turned on the woman opened Guy’s eyes as to what might be going on.

  He flicked a glance at Amber. Sure, none of this had anything to do with him. He was here purely to smooth things over with her, not to get involved in the politics of the place. Still, the eye messages he caught passing between some of the stakeholders made him realise he was witnessing an ambush.

  Did these jackals have any idea of the damage they were doing?

  The old Guy must still be in him somewhere, because he burned to spring up, stride across the room and punch the disgraceful manager in the face for encouraging this free-for-all. If he could have knocked a few of the scavengers flat on their faces at the same time he’d have relished it.

  Then he wanted to grab Amber O’Neill and remove her from the brutality.

  Take her somewhere quiet and green, by a flowing stream. Soothe her, stroke her beautiful proud face and neck. Hold her to him. Ease her down on the soft grass.

  Kiss her.

  Rock her in his arms.

  Amber heard the insults flying thick and fast in horrified disbelief. Surely she was in a nightmare? People she’d thought were her mother’s friends were scrabbling now for her location before she was cold in her grave.

  ‘Of course it’s up to you who you decide to give it to, Rog.’ That was Di Delornay, beaming at Roger. ‘It’s pretty clear Amber isn’t capable of doing it justice.’

  Incensed, Amber sat upright, straightened her shoulders. ‘Now, wait just a minute there, Di. While I hold the lease it’s up to me. I can do justice to it. I fully intend to open Fleur Elise’s doors to the street.’

  Marc rolled his eyes. ‘We’ll believe that when we see it, sweetikins.’

  The heat rose in Amber’s cheeks, along with her blood pressure. ‘You will see it. You would have before, except … Well, Mum always intended to do that too, but Ivy said … And Mum … Well, she had difficulties …’ Her throat thickened and her voice wobbled. ‘It wasn’t—easy for her, with everything she had to … And then when she got sick …’ Predictably, her eyes swam, and she had and stop to struggle for control.

  There was an embarrassed pause, then people started shuffling and coughing. Some of the same people who’d been standing beside her at her mother’s graveside only eleven short weeks before. Some of them had been weeping too. Some of them had had their arms around her, while others had patted Ivy and tried to soothe her hoarse, inconsolable sobs.

  Roger cleared his throat. ‘I’m sure we all sympathise, Amber, but I have to be fair to all tenants. Before we can approve an extension to your lease I need to know what you have in place to improve your shop’s performance. If anything,’ he added grimly.

  ‘Well …’ Blinking fast, she twisted her hands in her lap.

  There was an excruciating pause. People were avoiding meeting her eyes.

  Guy held his breath. He saw the red tide of shame rise to Amber’s hairline. With a sharp twist in his chest he recognised exactly how Amber O’Neill felt at this moment. Her brave, straight back, her dignified, distressed face transported him with painful immediacy right back to a moment in time he’d never wanted to revisit.

  With grim finality he closed his keyboard and opened his briefcase, the clicks of the catches loud in the expectant silence.

  Terrified her tenancy was slipping away from her, Amber knew she had to say something. Anything. She drew a shaky breath.

  ‘I intend to expand the range of our stock and to make a stronger impression. I’ve only been here a few weeks, and I just need time. To paint it and everything. I know it needs brightening up, and you all have a right to feel … But—I am—I’m doing everything I can to—to …’

  The honest truth was she had a million ideas a day. But right at this moment, when she had to produce them under intense pressure from a gang, in a life-or-death situation with the heat on, her brain completely dried up. As did her words.

  ‘I—I really am doing everything …’

  Her tortured c
roak hung on the air, substanceless, unconvincing. Her bread and butter, her commitment to Serena and Ivy, teetered on the edge of a cliff.

  Then from out of the haze Guy Wilder’s deep voice cut through the strained vibrations with sure, casual clarity. ‘Don’t forget the advertising campaign we’ve planned, Amber. That kicks off after you’ve done the interior. And you’re starting that next week. Isn’t that what you told me you’d decided?’

  She stared at him, dumbfounded. Heads swivelled around to him in surprise. With measured calm he got up from his desk and strolled around to join Roger, his tall, lean frame stealing Roger’s space.

  He held out his hand with cool authority. ‘Did you say you have a copy of that agreement, Roger? Mind if I take a look?’

  ‘It’s all absolutely above-board,’ Roger said huffily as Guy neatly whipped it from Roger’s open folder and perused it. ‘If you have any legal training—as I have—you’ll see it’s a standard agreement used by all mall managements. Everyone else has seen fit to sign. I’m prepared to witness Amber’s signature now, if she really is taking steps …’

  The owners broke into a murmured hubbub while Guy took his time, examining the document thoroughly with a meditative frown.

  After a minute or so he gave an easy shrug and strolled with the document to where Amber sat hypnotised on her chair. ‘Might as well, Amber,’ he said. ‘Now’s as good a time as any. Have you read this? All this stuff is totally in line with your plan.’

  She looked hard at him, fascinated. ‘Is it? My …?’

  He smiled. ‘Your plan to hire me. Of course.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  THE Kirribilli Mansions lifts were far too cramped. Especially when shared with six feet or so of unscrupulous, scheming man.

  Guy Wilder leaned against one wall, nonchalant, hands shoved in pockets, while Amber leaned against the opposing one. Contradictions wrestled for supremacy in her bamboozled brain. He didn’t want any ties, yet he seemed to be pursuing her. Seemed to be. Even after she’d rejected him. She’d never forgive him—couldn’t if she had any pride—but he’d rescued her from a nightmare.