Kiss It Better

by Jenny Schwartz

  ‘Is that all?’

  ‘Isn’t that enough? You said he’s here, so he must have spun you some story.’

  In fact, Theo had proposed a very similar strategy to the one Leighton had outlined. But Leighton couldn’t know that.

  ‘Theo’s here because he’s a friend and because we were both damaged by the lies Leighton, my cousin, presented to the media.’

  ‘Good morning, Gabby.’ Theo walked in. His hair was wet, but he’d evidently showered after his swim and wore a T-shirt and jeans. His feet were bare though, making him look right at home. He put a hand on Cassie’s shoulder, bent and kissed her cheek. ‘Morning, darlin’.’

  ‘That fake Yankee accent isn’t attractive.’

  Aunt Gabby scowled at Cassie. ‘You said he was swimming.’

  ‘Guest room has its own door,’ she said.

  Theo popped the kettle on again and a couple of slices of bread on to toast.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Aunt Gabby said.

  ‘You do,’ Cassie challenged her softly. As much as she loved her aunt, it was Leighton who put her in the middle and Cassie wouldn’t let her beloved aunt be used as a weapon against her. ‘You know that Leighton lied to you, again, trying to make trouble. Theo is my friend, Dad’s friend. He owns the place where you work and he could still prosecute Leighton for fraud there. That’s why Leighton wants to undermine him. Leighton is scared.’

  ‘He should be.’ Theo brought his plate of toast to the table.

  ‘Why?’ Aunt Gabby asked starkly.

  ‘Yesterday he crucified Cassie in the media. Maybe you can live with that.’

  Aunt Gabby shrank back.

  Theo continued. ‘But I spoke with Mick and we can’t. I’m pressing charges.’

  Cassie stared at him.

  ‘I didn’t discuss it with Cassie because she’s loyal and she’d try to save Leighton — for your sake as much as anything. But Leighton crossed a line.’

  Cassie was processing the fact that in yesterday’s day of drama, a big day for Theo, he’d made time to talk with her dad. For now she’d overlook the fact that he hadn’t spoken with her about pressing charges against Leighton.

  ‘Maybe the money Leighton made selling Cassie to the media will pay his legal fees, but I expect it’s already gone on gambling.’ Theo looked at Cassie. ‘The private detective I hired emailed me this morning. Your cousin has a gambling habit.’

  ‘No,’ Aunt Gabby whispered.

  Theo glanced at her, his expression remote. ‘And like any addict, he’ll throw his nearest and dearest under the bus to get his next fix.’

  Aunt Gabby’s hurt was painful to witness. Her shock and grief circled into rage. It was in her eyes that she wanted to lash back at Theo. Kind, gentle Aunt Gabby, the chief victim of Leighton’s lies. She loved him.

  But Cassie had been a surgical nurse. She knew doctors and she recognised Theo’s dispassionate cruelty, the sharp cut that had the most chance of healing cleanly. Aunt Gabby now had to have the courage to face the truth.

  She left.

  Cassie watched her aunt half-run to her car and the jerky way she manoeuvred out and down the driveway.

  Theo had finished his toast and leaned back with his coffee.

  ‘Gambling?’

  ‘It would explain his desperation.’

  Cassie nodded. ‘This situation just gets more and more screwed up.’

  ‘Do you want me to leave?’

  ‘Stop asking me that!’

  He grinned faintly. ‘All right. You kick me out when you feel like it, otherwise I’ll stay.’

  That sounded way too good to Cassie. She stood and cleared the table. ‘Do you have any plans for today?’ When he didn’t immediately answer, she glanced at him.

  He stood and crossed to the sink, setting down his empty mug. ‘I’m pressing charges against Leighton.’

  She abandoned the dishes. ‘I know.’ She stepped in and hugged him.

  Instantly, he hugged her back. ‘Are you that pleased?’

  ‘Idiot. I want you to know that I know the blame is all Leighton’s. And he’s going to have to deal with the consequences. Thank you for looking out for me — even if I don’t need you to.’

  He rocked her from side to side, like someone comforting a little kid. ‘Next time I won’t question your hug. That “idiot” was uncalled for.’ He rocked her harder.

  She gripped his arms and stepped back. ‘How about I meet you in town after you’ve pressed charges against Leighton? I’ll show you the sights.’

  ‘There are so many?’

  She punched his arm. ‘And then we’ll have lunch.’

  ‘To show the town that you’re onside with me charging Leighton?’

  ‘Something like that. No! No more rocking hugs.’

  ‘How else am I to show my appreciation?’ He stared at her mouth.

  It was clichéd and pathetic, but she couldn’t help herself. She licked her lips, remembering his kiss — then she wasn’t remembering.

  He backed her up against the pantry door and assaulted her mouth. It was bruising and delicious, unleashing all the desperate hunger of last night’s self-denial. He kept his hands on her hipbones, too, and that self-control was even sexier. His fingers flexed and dug in, released and returned.

  Her own hands travelled up his back, tracing over the cotton T-shirt and feeling the warm, strong muscles beneath. She rubbed her hands over them, hard, the friction what she needed, craved, between her thighs.

  ‘If you want me to stop.’ He scraped her lower lip with his teeth. ‘Push me away.’

  She fisted the sides of his T-shirt, rising on tiptoe as he lifted his mouth.

  ‘I swam in that freezing cold ocean, and I’m still hard for you.’

  ‘I noticed.’ Her appreciation of the fact husked her voice.

  ‘Last chance.’ Low, with warning.

  Her own words from earlier invaded her mind. The situation was screwed up. If they screwed each other, it would only get more complicated. But what an incredible complication.

  ‘Are you going to decide?’ He demanded.

  Freak it. She released his T-shirt and flattened her palms over his chest, tensing her muscles to resist.

  They both looked down at her hands.

  ‘No?’ He gazed into her eyes.

  She fought not to pant as his hips shifted, just fractionally, against hers.

  ‘Hell.’ He stepped away and, arms braced, leaned over the counter. Tight butt, muscled thighs, that strong back. Tension in every line of him. He wouldn’t look at her.

  She ached to go to him. Against common sense and self-preservation, she wanted him. If he pushed just a fraction instead of being honourable, they’d be in bed. The illusions she’d had about her self-control were gone, shattered against the strength of passion. She’d defended him against Aunt Gabby, against family.

  She flinched at what that realisation meant. ‘I’ll meet you in town. At the café bakery on High Street.’

  Without turning, he nodded.

  Walking away felt like slogging through regrets.

  ***

  Theo waited while Ian, the manager he’d installed at the JayBay factory, dealt with the news that Theo intended to prosecute Leighton. It was Saturday, but the factory ran a light shift, mainly for tourists. Through the office window the sky was a vivid blue, like Cassie’s eyes.

  She wasn’t playing games. Her eyes were honest. She was at war with herself, shocked by the passion that flared between them.

  He was shocked, too. He’d always been able to play it cool, but this morning, releasing her had been hard. He’d had to grip the counter to stop himself turning caveman. If he’d picked her up, slung her over a shoulder and dumped her on his bed, she wouldn’t have said no. Both of them had been close to losing it.

  ‘I think that’s a good idea.’ Ian surprised him. He was a local. He’d grown up on a farm in the area, gone to the city for work and now, in late middle age, had returned. �
��My wife goes on about the need for closure. What Leighton did, the people out on the floor felt it. It wasn’t theft against a big business. This was stealing from friends and family. There have to be consequences.’ Ian paused. ‘The media coverage about you and Cassie yesterday didn’t help.’

  ‘Did they believe it?’

  ‘No. Cassie warned them that Leighton was going to lie.’

  Cassie, with her honesty, loyalty and courage. She’d defended him to her aunt. Kept his secret of why he was here. Maybe that was why he’d come so close to taking her: she fought for him.

  He ran over a couple of minor business issues with Ian before getting in the car and heading off to the police station. Starting proceedings against Leighton wouldn’t be fun, but his mood had the necessary grimness to deal with it. On waking this morning, there’d been more than two-dozen messages from his family on his phone.

  He hadn’t answered one.

  It wasn’t a long-term strategy, but not even twenty-four hours from when his life turned upside down, he was willing to cut himself some slack. When curiosity about his biological father outweighed shocked anger, then he’d contact his mum. Except, how long would that take?

  The procedure at the police station was simpler than he’d expected. Sergeant Forrest took down the details, although he seemed to know most of them.

  ‘Poppy, my partner, works at the factory.’

  ‘Ah.’ Theo reassessed the slightly older man in view of the fact that he was brave enough to partner with the redoubtable Poppy.

  ‘You’re doing the right thing,’ Sergeant Forrest said as he handed him pen and paper for his signature. ‘Bloody Leighton pushed it too far this time.’ He took the form back, checked it. ‘The photo this morning looks better.’

  ‘Photo?’

  ‘Poppy saw it on the telly.’ Forrest made a performance of studying the form. ‘I searched it out later online. A photo of you and Cassie at the airport.’

  ‘Were we kissing?’

  Forrest grinned. ‘Yeah.’

  ‘It was all very innocent.’ Then.

  ‘It won’t do your reputation any harm here in Jardin Bay. Cassie’s the kind who knows her own mind. If she trusts you…’

  ‘You all do.’

  ‘Right, mate.’

  Walking out of the police station, Theo understood part of the paradox of Cassie’s confession of loneliness. She was loved and respected, but people expected her to cope. It was the same with him. He’d always accepted it, even been proud of it. However, that calm assumption of competence could be isolating. To whom did you confess your uncertainty?

  Cassie had trusted him.

  Perhaps — even though he was a guy — he should trust her with his feelings?

  ***

  Cassie sat on the low limestone fence outside the police station and listened to the wattlebird in the tree above her utter his ugly shrieking cry. Spring was mating season and males were claiming their territory.

  When Theo had left for the factory — and she appreciated that he was giving the new manager a heads up on Leighton’s impending legal situation — she had gone online and checked the news sites. Unfortunately her relationship with Theo wasn’t a fleeting fifteen seconds of fame, but was still causing comment. On the upside, the photographer at the airport had sold his photo of them and Leighton’s original story was twisting and changing, becoming more flattering. Theo had been right: people loved a romance.

  Except her and Theo weren’t having a romance.

  She was very tempted to squawk back at the irritating and noisy wattlebird when it landed on the grass in front of her and did the bird equivalent of shouting at her.

  ‘Upsetting the wildlife?’ Theo strolled out of the police station.

  Sergeant Forrest walked beside him.

  Cassie grimaced. ‘Sarge, shouldn’t you arrest hooligans?’ She pointed with a lazy foot at the bird.

  The wattlebird eyed the approaching men, flew up to the fence beside Cassie, flipped up to the branch above her, and then dive-bombed the men.

  ‘Rotten bastard,’ Sergeant Forrest muttered and clapped his hat on. ‘See ya.’

  The sergeant headed for his 4WD.

  Theo retreated to the street. ‘Is this bird part of the Jardin Bay sightseeing tour? Because I don’t think he got the be-friendly-to-tourists message.’

  She laughed, swung her legs over the fence, and joined him on the street. ‘You should see what we’ve trained our sea gulls to do.’

  ‘I don’t think I want to.’

  After a minute, in which he slouched along, staring at the footpath while she responded to a shouted greeting from across the road, Cassie stopped. ‘You probably aren’t in the mood for sightseeing.’

  ***

  Which gave him the perfect opportunity — if he was man enough — to say that he wanted to talk.

  ‘What is there to see?’ Theo asked instead.

  ‘The High Street shops.’

  They were standing on High Street. He lived in Melbourne. The shops of a small coastal town weren’t impressive.

  Cassie appeared to agree. She tried again. ‘The town hall is a good example of Art Deco.’

  Again, Melbourne had that in spades.

  She turned in a slow half-circle, thinking. ‘There’s the beach and the skate park. Do you skate? Skateboard, I mean?’

  ‘Not since I was sixteen.’

  ‘Yeah. And the beach at home is nicer, I think. We could go to the cave in the swamp?’

  By now, people were staring at them as they stood unmoving in front of a closed fish and chip shop. But Theo had other issues. ‘You have a cave in a swamp as a tourist attraction?’

  ‘No, the cave’s only for locals. We don’t want to disturb the woylie population with too many visitors.’

  ‘Woylie?’

  ‘Haven’t you heard — ’ She grabbed his hand and pulled him into a fast walk. ‘Mrs Harloop.’

  ‘Is that meant to meant something? Is she a woylie?’

  ‘She’s a nosey parker. But she doesn’t like the beach. Too much sand.’

  Theo didn’t even try to make sense of that.

  They walked across the grassed foreshore, skirting the skate park.

  ‘Woylies are a rare, endangered marsupial that were found in Big Swamp last year. I was in Africa, but everyone emailed me photos. They’re kind of like bilbies.’ She considered that. ‘Maybe not. Still, they’re cute.’ She paused at the edge of the dunes. ‘Mrs Harloop is gone.’

  ‘Let’s walk on the beach anyway.’

  It was a good choice, being mostly empty. Only a couple of people walked along the high tide line, exercising.

  Cassie slipped off her shoes and he did the same, abandoning them near the path. The soft, dry, white sand became harder packed where the waves foamed up the beach and around washed up shells and seaweed. It made for easier walking. He rolled up his jeans and walked on the sea-side of Cassie.

  ‘Watch out for jellyfish,’ she said.

  It was a good excuse to look at his feet and not at her. ‘You know last night in the car?’ They were no longer holding hands, but he still sensed her tension. Don’t panic, darlin’. He wasn’t going to talk about sex or this morning’s near miss. ‘You said we should talk about you. Can we talk about me, now?’

  ‘Of course.’ She pushed her arm through his, a modified hug that squashed her breast against him. She sounded a bit surprised.

  ‘Men can talk about their feelings.’ He eased his own discomfort with teasing.

  ‘Actual words, or grunts and curses?’

  He bumped her and they staggered ever so slightly.

  She laughed. ‘Go on. Whatever you need to say, I’ll listen and I won’t judge. Feelings are allowed to be messy. Wait! Jellyfish.’ She stepped over the dead blob. ‘Okay.’

  She’d struck the right tone to let him relax enough to share his thoughts.

  ‘I’m angry.’

  No response, just the sounds of the sea.r />
  ‘I don’t know how to handle this anger. It’s not the lash out and hit things kind of anger or something I can burn off with exercise. It’s like a volcano of ice inside me and it keeps spewing more and more ice, pumping it through my veins so that when I think of phoning Mum or talking to Connor, my brother, I just…it’s like I’m choking on jagged ice.’

  ‘What’s at the heart of the volcano? What’s generating the anger?’

  ‘What Dad said. That I’m not his son.’ He jerked away, forgetting the sea was there and soaking his rolled up jeans. He swore.

  Cassie watched him. ‘Are you angry at what Gordon said, or at how and why he said it?’

  ‘Both. And I hate wet jeans.’

  ‘It’s only the edges.’

  But the jeans were a safe focus for his anger. He stomped up the beach and rolled them down. He felt ridiculous and hated the feeling. He’d always taken his emotional control for granted.

  Cassie followed him.

  He sat on the sand and looped his arms around his knees. ‘I’m angry because they let me believe I’m one person, but I’m really someone else.’ His parents, the whole Morrigan family — who damn them, had always known the truth. Thank you, Uncle Pat.

  ‘It’s like that with me and Africa.’ Cassie sat beside him. ‘I thought I was the dedicated nurse who’d save the world. Instead I couldn’t handle it. I have to cast aside one view of myself and find a truer vision.’ She scrunched her toes into the dry sand. ‘Actually, that’s not true. That you’re like me, I mean. Yours is the opposite. What you’ve learned shows that you’re stronger than you thought.’

  ‘Stronger?’

  ‘I bet some secret part of you always thought you had things easy because you were born a Morrigan.’

  He stared at her, jaw slack.

  She laughed. ‘It’s obvious, Theo. You said it yourself when we first met. You’re competitive. It must have irked you to think how much of what you’ve achieved had to be partly attributed to your family.’

  ‘Morrigan money did pay for my education, my house. I inherited…should I have?’

  Did he mean morally? Cassie opted for answering the legal situation, which he probably already knew. It was common sense. ‘Absolutely. Your mum said your dad’s name is on your birth certificate. You’re his son, no matter what stupidity he uttered when he knew you were going to win the CEO position from him. And you said the Morrigans have always known that you weren’t theirs by blood. You’re theirs by love, and that’s the most important tie.’