by Rosie Praks
Hunter ignored the waiter’s comment and just tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for him to extract the note from his office.
Grabbing the paper and thanking the waiter, Hunter rushed outside and dialed her number.
“Hey,” Hunter said soothingly, using his best flirty tone.
“Who’s this?” came an angry voice.
Hunter frowned. That didn’t sound like his mysterious woman from last night.
“Your mysterious guy…” Hunter sapped all his energy on perfecting his voice so he could seduce her and hoped she would run straight to a taxi with her lingerie on, straight into his arms so they could commence round three. “From last night. We had the best sex. Remember?” he added. “Listen, I was thinking we could—”
“You bastard!”
Hunter was struck speechless when his mysterious goddess interrupted his speech.
“I waited for you last night,” she shouted through the phone, causing his eardrum to ring. “All night, in fact. All by myself. You didn’t even turn up. You playboy. Don’t ever call this number again.” Then the line went dead.
Hunter stared at the phone blankly, confused about the turn of events.
He scratched his head. If his mysterious woman was waiting for him last night and he didn’t turn up, then—
Just who the hell did I sleep with last night?
Chapter 17
Anton had wanted her. Despite his being a bit drunk last night, Clarice was certain he had clearly confessed as much. But just to succumb to his advances because he’d confessed and called her his mysterious goddess? She just couldn’t believe she could be this lewd and naïve.
Clarice remembered her heart beating a thousand beats per minute when he kissed and hugged her. It felt so wonderful and so beautiful that she was lost in an endless world of pleasure and magic, and when she woke again, the next thing she knew, she had already walked out of the hotel and was now wandering around the streets aimlessly like she’d lost her mind.
Why did she behave like this? Why didn’t she wait until morning to confront him about what they’d done? She could discuss it, explain to him her problem. Then maybe they could form a real relationship.
But Clarice knew she couldn’t. The truth was she was afraid when morning came, all the magic would disappear and the spell would be broken. She didn’t want that. She wanted to cherish that memory forever. And as a bonus, she also had Anton’s sperm, even though it would seem she had stolen it. Then again, he had stolen her innocence, so that made them even.
So here she was, still in her own reverie, wandering around Central Queenstown with many tourists milling around her, going in and out of the many cafes and breakfast bars at the early hour of seven a.m.
The sun was starting to crawl slowly from behind the majestic mountains in the east, sparkling mountain peaks like white crystals.
Clarice checked her phone. She’d been walking for two hours now. Spying a park bench, she decided to rest for a bit. Her gaze turned toward the direction of Silverton Hotel. She didn’t want to go to her suite yet. She didn’t want to see Max yet. She could deal with him later. For now, she just wanted to relish in those memories a little longer, because she knew if she returned to the hotel, reality would hit when she saw the real Anton, all somber.
How would he react when he saw her next? Would he remember last night? Did he text her only because he wanted to sleep with her? So many questions, not enough answers. What should she do if she saw him again? How should she react? But to tell the truth, she felt a bit in love with the Anton of last night, more than the daytime Anton. He felt so very different, so close and so intimate, unlike the cool and collected man who only meant business.
Well, there was nothing to do now anyway. Best just let nature take its course. Not long to go now before she fell pregnant… she hoped.
The smell of freshly baked bread and brewed coffee filled the air, reaching her olfactory senses and sending a signal to her stomach, which gave out an embarrassing growl just to let her know it was past time to break her fast. Having nothing else to do, she stepped into one of the cafés and ordered her breakfast. Nothing like pancakes and a fresh pot of aromatic green tea to start the day and face reality.
When the food arrived, her mouth salivated on its own accord. She took a bite of the yummy-looking pancake dripping with strawberries and honey, topped with banana on the side. It was amazingly delicious. The honey on her tongue was so sweet it reminded her of the kiss last night before Anton… before Anton… Clarice couldn’t finish her thought as her cheeks grew hot, blooming red as the strawberry on her plate. She guessed the feeling of them being together would be forever ingrained in her mind.
Clarice stored this thought at the back of her mind, and she promised she would revisit it and tell her baby that she or he was a product of their love, even if Anton was under the influence of alcohol.
Yes, she would do that she thought as she continued to chew her breakfast slowly, when a sight not three tables away almost caused her to choke on her meal, breaking into her thoughts.
Clarice blinked and then she blinked again. No, it must be an apparition, she thought. The person sitting three tables away from her, all consumed in chomping away on his steak, face masked with anger like someone had stolen his beloved Ferrari, looked just like that Casanova from back in Auckland.
No, this was Queenstown. Surely she wouldn’t be running into him again. So she rubbed her eyes twice to fend away the illusion. But no matter how many times she rubbed them, Hunter’s image was still sitting there eating his steak.
Yikes, it really was him. What was that Casanova doing here anyway? Horrible, this was horrible. Why of all places must she run into him here? Why did heaven decide for her to see him now?
Hiding behind the oversized menu so Hunter couldn’t spot her from this distance, Clarice ate her meal like she was vying for the Guinness World Record of who could eat the fastest.
Almost choking a few times because her mind was no longer on her food and too consumed in looking at Hunter to make sure he wasn’t looking her way, she poured some piping hot green tea into her mug and automatically chucked the whole contents of the cup down her throat, and dear heaven, she almost screamed in pain when the scalding hot liquid scorched her throat.
Serves me right for eating like this, Clarice thought, but she had to make her escape ASAP. She knew if he saw her, he would ruin her day again, like all the previous times they’d met. Today, though, she didn’t want to see him. She wanted to be alone, to replay the scene of last night, so escape she must.
Without further ado, she got up from her chair and paid for her meal, then briskly walked away from the café, heading back toward Silverton Hotel. She didn’t breathe a sigh of relief until she was in the elevator, coming face to face with a painting of red roses.
Examining the painting with the intricate petals and vines winding around each other, Clarice felt a sudden desire well up inside her, which in turn made her cheeks burn. Remembering last night, she shyly turned away from the painting, thinking about Anton and herself, bodies entwined together like those rose vines. Eager to get another sneak peek, she turned back to the painting, then was suddenly reminded of Elise and Whitney. Clarice mentally noted to herself that she must pay a visit to both the girls when she returned to Auckland, to inform them of her adventure through Max’s scheme.
Behind her, Clarice heard the elevator ding, indicating the door was closing. Suddenly, a yawn overcame her. With her eyes closed and her body slouched against the wall, she suddenly realized she was tired. Luckily, she still had today to spend in the hotel before flying back home tomorrow.
She wondered what Max was up to last night, but her thoughts were cut short when the elevator door dinged open again.
Clarice opened her eyes again and straightened herself, not wanting anyone to see her in such a state. It wouldn’t be right for a gum specialist to act like a child, closing her eyes and slouching around like she coul
d sleep anywhere.
Once she got her posture together, she waited patiently for the other occupant to appear, but when he did appear, she realized heaven was never going to be on her side when it came to that Casanova.
“You.” Clarice squeaked, then clamped her mouth shut before she started cursing Hunter, who in fact was the occupant she had waited for. But before Hunter could turn his face to look at her, she pretended to dig into her large bag, hiding her face.
Oh dear, why all of a sudden must she have an itch in her throat? Trying to hold it in, she couldn’t help releasing a massive cough, which alerted Hunter to her presence.
Hunter was a bit taken aback when he turned to see a petite woman holding a bag near her face, huddled in the corner of the elevator like a scared mouse. And here he thought he was all alone when he entered. He supposed he was too depressed over losing his mysterious goddess that he didn’t give a thorough look at his surroundings. He couldn’t get a good look at her face, but man, was her body definitely his type. Kind of reminded him of the avocado.
Clarice cut her eyes a bit so she could take a sneak peek at Hunter when she was sure his attention was elsewhere. She lowered the bag a little more to get a better view.
He looks horrible, she thought, absolutely horrible. In fact, even worse off than when she’d first seen him at the café. That hair was even more messed up than before. And his clothes… What was he doing last night, all wrinkled up like that? Then a scenario of the Casanova’s activity of last night swam into her head.
He must have bedded a woman, and by the looks of things, she must have kicked him out. Otherwise, that Casanova would never appear in anything other than pressed and branded clothing. Serves him right.
At that very moment, as Hunter was about to push the eleventh floor button, he turned to face Clarice, who almost jumped in fright, automatically smacking her bag right in her face just so Hunter couldn’t see her, resulting in a loud thwacking sound.
The price of keeping one’s identity anonymous was very painful indeed. Dear heaven, that hurt like hell.
Damn you, Casanova. It’s all your fault.
“Hey,” Hunter asked somberly, eyeing the woman who was acting strangely. “Which floor?”
Crap, he wants me to answer him? In order to keep her identity safe, she decided to use her best impression of an old lady’s voice.
“Eleventh floor,” she said seductively.
Shit, that sounded like his mysterious goddess. Hunter’s eyes immediately jerked toward the woman who still held that bag blocking her face.
“Say that again?” Hunter asked, which came out more like a demand, piqued at the woman’s voice. Could it be her?
Heaven help her! Was she so affected by last night that her voice was still laced with that seductive passion? She had to use her hoarse voice if she wanted to fool Hunter into believing she was an old woman. Muster up that croaky voice, Clarice. Muster up that voice now.
“Eleventh,” she said seductively again.
Oh deary me, it came out wrong again.
By this stage, Hunter was convinced the woman who shared the same lift was actually hiding something from him, and he bet his life that he was not wrong.
Moving closer, he tried to sneak a peek at her face, but whichever direction he turned, she would counteract, as a result, hiding her identity from him.
Clarice could feel his gaze on her. Hunter was standing so close. If he saw her face, she was sure she’d die. Hunter would annoy her again. She didn’t need this. Not at all. How to get rid of him? she thought.
Obviously, standing with the bag in front of her face for the duration of the lift’s journey would not be successful because she could sense at any minute now, Hunter would advance, demanding to see her.
Then an idea struck her. She pretended to cough profusely, indirectly telling him to stay away or she might pass her virus onto him. Then she dug into her bag and donned the clinical mask that she usually kept in her bag for times like this. Extracting her pair of dark-shaded sunglasses, she donned those too. Her stage was set. So when Hunter’s hand landed on her shoulder, pulling her around to face him, the look on his face almost made her burst out laughing because it was just so hilarious.
Hunter almost jumped out of his skin when he saw Clarice all dressed up like she was infected with a deathly virus, complete with clinical mask and glasses.
“Sorry, young man. Don’t mind me. I just got a wee bit of a cold,” she put on her old lady’s voice. Finally, it came out right. She just hoped she sounded sick enough to halt his suspicion of her. “Best to stay away.”
Clarice’s plan worked, for Hunter was now wedged all the way to the other side of the small elevator, his back pressed against the wall, gaining as much distance from the infected lady as possible.
It must be his imagination. He must be really thinking about his mysterious goddess that her voice continued to play inside his head like a broken record. That was why he found this lady with the mask so fascinating. But try as he might, despite her saying she had a cold, he still couldn’t keep his eyes away from her. Sure he could keep his distance, but his eyes just wouldn’t listen to him. She reminded him of that avocado so much. They were practically the same height, with the same color hair. Apart from the voice that at first sounded so much like his goddess, this lady screamed avocado. But how could the avocado be here? This was Queenstown, not Auckland.
Through her shaded sunglasses, Clarice could see Hunter gazing at her again. “You like what you see, young man?” She couldn’t help teasing. That was usually the line he used to lure his female fans into his bed. Now lets see how that Casanova would react being hit on by an old lady, she thought grinning at her idea.
Hunter tried to stop himself from imagining anything erotic with the lady. What the hell was wrong with him? He was being hit on by an old lady with some sort of virus.
Instead of telling her to stay away, he just smiled a gentle smile and turned back toward the elevator door.
He smiled at me. Hunter, that no-good, annoying man she constantly called Casanova actually smiled at her, and a very gentle smile at that. Not that flirty “I want you in my bed” smile, but the gentle, genuine kind one would give someone they loved. Suddenly, she realized she didn’t like him smiling at her at all. She found it hard to breathe with her mask on and in that small, confined elevator.
Clarice was trying so hard to control her breathing pattern when a sudden stop in the elevator caused her body to crash against Hunter’s. He in that instant captured her within his arms to stop her from hitting the wall. Clarice was so scared of the turn of events that she held on to Hunter’s neck for dear life.
“What was that?” she asked, her voice shaking, losing its disguise.
“Shit, it must be the elevator stopping again,” Hunter said, looking at that masked face with the sunglasses, all too aware of the sudden change in pitch and tone. It was like she was speaking in a different voice.
Their eyes suddenly locked together and then nothing else seemed to exist. Something in the atmosphere seemed to shift.
Peach scent. Peach and orange blossom. The lady smelled of peaches and orange blossoms just like his mysterious goddess from last night.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
Hunter felt his loins warming up again. Shit. That was twice this morning. He mentally cursed himself, then gently placed her down on the floor. He needed space. He needed to get away from her. This lady was really playing with his mind.
Hunter let her go when she found her footing and immediately escaped to the panel of buttons so he could somehow control his urges. Trying to distract his mind from thinking about his mysterious goddess, the avocado, and this lady with an infected virus, he decide to fix the problem at hand.
Hunter pushed the activation button, but that didn’t seem to awaken the elevator. He rang for emergency, but no one picked up.
Hunter muttered something along the lines of, “I’ll fire all of them when I get o
ut,” then turned to look at the lady again. With her huge black shades on, he couldn’t tell whether she was afraid or not, but looking at her posture, her fingers twisting together, he could see she was nervous.
“It’s all right, ma’am. The elevator will run again soon,” he said to reassure her. All she did was nod her head, then turn to look at the rose painting on the wall.
Shaking his head at the peculiar lady, he called Anton, who should be in his office working by now.
“Goddamn it. Pick up the phone, you old lout,” he shouted when voicemail picked up.
Then the elevator gave another shake, and before he knew it, the lady was in his arms once more, gripping his neck like he was her lifeline.
God, he couldn’t shake the feelings that overcame him as his nose inhaled her scent once again. But his mysterious goddess was a…
Dammit, he hadn’t a clue, but his goddess was most definitely not some black-haired loony woman who wears a mask and sunglasses just because she has a cold.
Somehow at that precise moment, they locked eyes again, and just when Hunter was about to tear the glasses off her face to satisfy his curiosity, to see whether she was in fact the avocado or his mysterious lady who had dyed her hair black or just some lady who really was infected with a cold, the elevator door dinged opened.
“Oh, thank heavens,” Clarice shouted, using her natural voice, so happy to be out of this tight confinement that she forgot to feign her old lady’s voice. She literally made a dash out the door to her room, which was on the other side of the hotel, as fast as her little legs could take her, before Hunter could even blink an eye.
But Hunter’s reaction was fast and his feet were faster. This was no sick old lady. Who was she and why was she hiding behind that mask and sunglasses?
Clarice, realizing now that she was being pursued, ran as fast as her legs could take her, passing her own room and turning into the exit door, taking the stairs back down. But Hunter being Hunter, having won the university short-distance race, was able to catch up to her in no time at all. And when he did catch her, he pinned her to the wall and tore off her mask and glasses.