by Anna Cleary
Something had happened today. And she had the feeling the crew—or at least some of them—were in on it. She’d noticed the hurried exchange of glances and Maggie’s unhappy face.
As they approached the Harbour Bridge, against all her prudent instincts she asked tentatively, ‘Have you worked with Maggie a long time?’
‘Yep.’
‘She seems to think a lot of you.’
He glanced searchingly at her, eyes narrowed, a sudden tension in his manner. ‘Yeah? What did she tell you?’
‘Nothing—except that you’re a wonderful guy.’
‘Now, why would Maggie feel compelled to say that?’ The words sounded casual. But there was an edge she didn’t miss.
She shrugged guiltily. Maggie had talked about him, and now she had foolishly blabbed. She tried to get out of it by being flippant. ‘How do I know? She could just be a compulsive liar. Or maybe she has a secret crush on you.’
The man was not amused. She could tell. Partly by his heavy beetling brows. Partly by the hardening of his jaw for the several blocks between the bridge and home.
Maybe she should just shut up if everything she said was wrong. But she couldn’t bear it when people were mad at her and she didn’t even know what she’d done. Maybe he was regretting his generous impulse and getting stuck with having to make this ad for her. Or perhaps he resented her invading his workplace, getting to know his team.
Or maybe … Her heart turned to ice. The taboo thought that had been lurking all day suddenly materialised.
Just maybe it was over.
The signs were all there. Call her a spineless coward, but while this was the ideal opportunity to clear it up, she dreaded knowing.
For the remainder of the trip she vacillated between asking and not asking. If she did, it would be a terrible risk. It might make him feel pressured. In her experience, put a man under pressure and you’d most likely face a rejection. But Guy seemed to be on the brink of rejecting her anyway. If she had any self-respect she should at least toughen up and find out why. She owed herself that much, didn’t she?
By the time they drew up into his parking spot in the arcade basement her insides were quaking and she had that strangulated feeling in her chest.
There was a tense moment when neither of them spoke.
She was the one who broke the silence, gazing straight ahead to keep her voice steady. ‘I was just wondering why you weren’t very pleased with me in the scene? Why you looked at me as if you wanted to throw up? As if you—couldn’t stand the sight of me.’ She tried to sound supercool and in control, but towards the end her chin insisted on wobbling, and that came through in her voice.
His hands flexed on the wheel. ‘No, Amber.’ He ground out the words. ‘That’s not—true. Not—how it was.’
There was a remorseful intensity in his voice that might have meant he was being truthful, or might have meant he was riddled with guilt. Guilty as sin for wanting to dump her on the nearest rubbish tip.
He turned to her, his eyes ablaze with some unreadable emotion. ‘I know I may have seemed a bit taken aback when I first—But that had nothing to do with you. Honestly.’
‘Didn’t it?’ After all she’d endured today, this was just too much. Her veins swelled with indignation. ‘Well, I’ve got news for you, Guy Wilder. It feels pretty personal when someone glares at you as if you look like a slug.’
He made a jerky gesture. ‘I’m sorry, sweetheart. Honestly. It wasn’t you.’
At least he wasn’t trying to deny the ghastly moment had happened.
‘Who was it, then?’
He grew silent, his face hardening to a cool, unreadable mask. Then he lifted his shoulders. ‘Look, we all have things in our lives we don’t want to talk about. When I saw you at that moment just for an instant I was reminded of something that happened once. A long time ago …’ He waved his hands. ‘Ages ago now. It was just one of those stupid flashbacks from out of the blue. It was nothing, I swear. It’s all ancient history, but just for a minute there it hit me. All right?’
She stared down at her hands, mulling over all the denials, all the minimalising, then flicked him a glance. ‘Was it her? That woman you were with before? The one you had a break-up with?’
He closed his eyes and sighed. ‘Look, Amber, let’s just leave it now. Shall we?’
‘Fine.’ Shrugging, she released the seat belt and got out of the car.
It was blindingly apparent now why he was over her. Today she’d reminded him of someone else. The woman he wished he was still with.
When they each stood outside their respective doors, he drew in a breath and glanced at her, as if he was bracing himself to say something difficult. Something like, Well, it’s been fun. But I think you understand it can’t ever be anything more than that. I’ve just realised I still have this deep-seated passion for my old love. So … sorry Amber. No more hanging out. See ya round.
But Amber got in first.
She glanced in his direction and yawned. ‘Well, it’s been a big day. I hope I can stay awake long enough to finish my management assignment tonight.’
His brow creased. ‘Oh? So you’ll be staying in for dinner?’
She avoided his eyes. ‘I’m not that hungry. I’ll probably just make a sandwich.’
He flicked a glance at her, then frowned at the floor. ‘Right.’
‘So …’ She unlocked her door, hesitated. ‘See you, then.’
She could feel his grey gaze sear her face like a torch. But then he just gave up. Just like that. The guy who was worried he’d ruined all his chances with her.
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Good luck with it. See you.’
Inside, she bumped her shin on the edge of the coffee table in the hall. Cursing in extreme agony, it occurred to her that she’d rather have this pain than the one she knew was about to slice up her heart once the full ramifications sank through.
Whatever Guy said, however much he declared that woman was in his past, he was still in love with her. Why else would he have been so affected today?
In fact, now she’d been shown a glimpse of the bigger picture, a few thousand little clues began to add up.
She limped into the kitchen and opened the fridge, smarting all over. He hadn’t been concerned about not having dinner with her. There hadn’t been the least sign of disappointment. Since when had a management assignment taken precedence over a night of excitement and romance?
Simple. Since the romance had hit a rock.
As she stared gloomily into the freezer, an even more lowering thought struck.
It was clear she must resemble that woman pretty closely. That must be why he’d been attracted to her. It had never been anything to do with her personally at all.
Tears swam into her eyes. All the time he’d been making love to Amber O’Neill, cuddling her, saying all those passionate things, he’d really been thinking of his true love. He was probably thinking of her right now.
Searching for a silver lining while she was choking down her toasted cheese sandwich, it did occur to her that he hadn’t actually said goodbye yet. Maybe she should have tried to seduce him good and proper to drive that woman from his mind? But not in the car. Not in a car park. There could be nothing ‘grand passion’ about that sort of venue.
Anyway, he’d looked too remote. If only he’d said something warm. Something to give her hope.
It was all too distressing. Instinct told her there’d be no accidental meeting tonight. How was she to kill time? She supposed she could shift all the furniture back into the sitting room and watch TV. Though that would require energy and motivation, when she urgently needed distraction. If she was to get through the next few hours she had to have something to paralyse her brain. Even her assignment was starting to look like an option.
With a groan of surrender she got up and switched on her notebook. Sighing, she clicked open the file. The pre-reading she’d already done had been about as exciting as the arcade on a Sunday afternoon
. ‘Supervision of staff’, she read. Yeah, fat chance anyone had ever had of supervising her staff.
She read on and, surprisingly, started to become quite absorbed. At some point she must have stopped listening for sounds from next door, for clues of Guy’s activities, because before she knew it she was in the zone, writing some pretty hard-hitting stuff about Ivy. Not mentioning her by name, of course. But if ever there was a bona fide case study requiring a management plan Ivy was the candidate.
Maybe because she was miserable and confused, she found the plan was a great outlet. In a way it was like choreography, and she’d always found that satisfying. She’d just finished designing some seriously rugged hoops for Ivy to hop through when she noticed the time was close on eleven.
She rubbed her eyes, then gave the great work one last read through before hitting the ‘save’ button. Rising and stretching, she headed for her bedroom. At least she’d achieved something today.
Like a lorryload of boulders, her memory and the day’s events crashed into her heart. There’d be nothing else for Amber O’Neill tonight but an empty bed and a good night’s sleep.
Grabbing a fresh nightie, she headed for the bathroom.
Guy frowned over his text. How to encourage customers to think Fleur Elise first when they desired their little piece of spring? It was tempting to write a whole bunch of poetic lyrics, but the film-maker in him knew that in this case less was better. Nothing could be as powerful as the image of Amber floating through that garden.
His heart quickened. She was as lovely as the roses they’d decked her in.
Oh, for God’s sake, why couldn’t he have controlled himself? He leapt up and started to pace his aunt’s sitting room. What a fool he’d been. The very thing he needed to bury, once and for all, was now back in the headlines with his film crew. The whole office was probably abuzz by now. Speculating about his ‘new relationship’.
He shuddered. How he hated those words. Useless to hope Amber never found out about his laughable history. If Maggie didn’t tell her, someone else would.
With cold misgiving he contemplated the future. He could see it clearly now. The longer Amber stayed with him, the more likely it was she’d be meeting his friends. Already he’d planned to talk a couple of the Blue Suede boys into giving her a hand with her shop.
And wasn’t the Suede’s big night coming up? He slapped his forehead. He’d been so obsessed with her he’d neglected to think ahead. She’d be meeting the guys and their girlfriends. Not to mention everyone at The Owl who’d remember him and Jo from the old days.
Someone would be eager to fill her in. He could just imagine how the sordid tale might be presented. No doubt with a whole lot of schmaltzy spin about how he’d been destroyed forever—shattered, et cetera.
As if he was some sort of lily-livered comedian. He punched his fist into his palm. It flashed through his head that he might just have to grit his teeth and tell her himself first. Some of it, anyway.
If he could just work out what to say in advance. Maybe there was a way to keep it low-key. If he could think of it as a script. A technical challenge …
Amber lay back in the chamomile-scented water and closed her eyes. In the grim reality of not having heard from Guy for hours the chopped-up feeling in her chest had intensified. There’d been nothing. Not even a text. It was crushing to think of how empty her life would be if he dropped her. There’d be nothing to look forward to.
But what if they continued to see each other? Being besotted was one thing. It was all about having fun with someone. But where was the fun now? Somewhere along the way she’d gone much further than that.
She had to face it. She was madly in love with him. Oh, she’d known it for ages, but never so strikingly as in the car this evening. Even if he still wanted to play with her, could she go on with him knowing she was a mere substitute?
She was roused from her dismal reflections by a sharp ring of her doorbell. Hah!
She sat upright. It could only be him at this hour. With a surge of fearful excitement she heaved herself out of the tub, gave herself a hasty towelling, then dragged on her silk wrap.
At the front door she stood hesitating, momentarily paralysed with fear about what he might be going to say. She switched on the hall light. ‘Who is it?’
There was a loaded pause. Then Guy’s voice came, deep and subdued. ‘It’s me.’
She opened the door. He was standing with head lowered, though he glanced up at once. His eyes sparked when he saw her state of undress, but his expression was serious.
Her heart started to thump. Was this it? He’d come to make the cut? He had on the black tee shirt that so enhanced his gorgeous arms and made him look dangerously handsome. As well, her eagle eye noticed he’d shaved. Had he been out? Or was there some other reason he needed a smooth jaw at eleven-thirty at night?
‘Hi,’ he said, his deep voice sonorous. ‘I was thinking it might be good to talk.’
‘Oh? Well, I—I was just bathing.’
His eyes assessed her with that piercing gleam. ‘You smell fresh. Sorry if I interrupted. Tub or shower?’
‘Tub.’ He was no stranger to her tub. She pulled the edges of her wrap closer, moistened her lips. ‘Come through.’
She led the way to the kitchen. Quite a few of their most exciting evenings had started in her kitchen. She could tell by the light in his eyes he was aware of that too. Even so, there was a purpose in his demeanour that didn’t suggest seduction.
They faced each other standing, like adversaries, and she noticed his brows edge together as he considered his words. He drew in a breath. ‘Er … about what we talked about …’
‘The ad?’
His eyes narrowed in rebuke of her little tease. ‘No, not the ad. The … the thing I—I remembered today. The … er … the flashback.’
‘Oh, the woman, you mean?’
He lifted an impatient shoulder, then opened his hands. ‘Look, you knew I wasn’t a virgin. It’s pretty hard to reach thirty-three without having a few re—lovers along the way.’
‘Of course. Not that it’s any of my business. We aren’t exactly a couple.’ She gave a silvery little laugh at the very absurdity of the idea.
His face smoothed. Some of the tension leaked from his posture. ‘Exactly. So, if I went out with a woman a few times, naturally certain circumstances could bring her to mind. Or any other woman I might have dated. I don’t know why you thought it was such a big thing.’ He lowered his lashes. ‘No doubt you’ve kissed a guy before.’
She delivered her sweetest smile. ‘Though rarely ever so well. What’s her name?’
He blinked and turned his eyes away. ‘Look, what difference—?’ He threw out his hands in exasperation. ‘All right. It’s Jo. All right?’
Amber couldn’t speak for a second. She could easily loathe, despise and ridicule a woman from the past if a mere fleeting memory of her was capable of paralysing her lover for hours. But once that woman had a name …
And a nice name. The sort of name one of her girlfriends might have had.
‘She must have been quite special to you?’
He looked non-committal. Shrugged. ‘For a while. Yeah, she was. But these things end, don’t they? It’s no big deal.’
She gazed steadily at him. He must have quickly reviewed his last words, because he hastened to correct any poor impression they might have left.
‘Look, I liked her for a while. Okay? But I’m glad I’m not with her any more.’
She nodded, relieved he’d said that even if she wasn’t sure how true it was. ‘I see.’
‘Do you, though?’ He looked keenly at her. ‘I like you, Amber. I really like you.’ His eyes were intent on her face, ablaze with sincerity.
‘Oh.’ She flushed, her ridiculous heart rushing and fluttering like a trapped insect. ‘Well, I like you too, Guy.’
His expression lightened. Smiling, he pulled her towards him. ‘Even after I was so prickly with you today?’ He s
tarted to nuzzle her hair, face and throat with his lips.
‘Yeah. And you were, you know. It made me think I must look just like her.’
‘No.’ He took her shoulders and gazed into her eyes, denial in every line of his face. ‘You don’t,’ he said with conviction. ‘Not at all. Not in the slightest. You look like your own unique and beautiful self.’
He pulled her close to him again, holding her and stroking her as though she genuinely was someone rare and precious. She could feel his big heart thudding against her own.
Call her an obsessive, but curiosity needed to be appeased. ‘What does she look like?’
He gave a sigh of exasperation. ‘It doesn’t matter what she looks like. I never want to lay eyes on her again.’
‘I’m glad.’ She kissed his Adam’s apple. ‘What colour’s her hair?’
‘Amber.’ He grabbed her shoulders and gazed sternly at her. ‘What difference does it make? I’m telling you … Look, the last time I saw her she had short reddish hair. Okay?’
‘Fine. It makes no earthly difference to me. Not a bit. I just like to have a mental picture, that’s all. You’re the vision man. You must know what that’s like.’
He sighed. ‘What else can I say to you?’ His lips moved against her ear. ‘She’s short and stocky with freckles. And you know what I’m thinking now?’
‘What?’ She held her breath in sudden hopeful anticipation.
‘It’s high time I took a bath.’ Desire deepened his voice.
‘Oh.’ She smiled, partly in self-mockery at her weakness. ‘You poor man. You’re too late. Sadly the water will now be cold.’
He grinned, his usual cocksure confidence reasserting itself. ‘I think you know I can heat it up.’
In truth, the bath was one of his better inspirations. It eased away the doubts and pains of the day. There was much playful loving, and even more serious, panting loving. One thing about being in a bath was the total nakedness it imposed. There was no possibility of lying or deceiving someone when you were both stripped bare and washed by the same water.