by Nicola Marsh
Blane was charm personified, and if seeing him for barely thirty minutes had her in this much of a dither, what hope would she have of spending an entire evening with him and coming out unscathed, resolve intact, at the end of it?
‘I’d rather just pay you.’
She busied herself with making the coffee, injecting the right amount of nonchalance into her voice, hoping he’d accept her subtle brush-off.
‘It’s dinner or I take you to the consumer affairs board for non-payment.’
‘You’re kidding?’
Of course he was, those adorable crinkles on full display as she sent him a look of disbelief.
He shrugged, his smile not waning. ‘Maybe. Though it is a non-negotiable deal. Dinner. You and me. You choose the place, seeing as you’re insisting on paying, though I have to tell you, having you shout me a meal doesn’t sit well with me.’
‘Why? Used to being the macho male, huh?’
‘Used to being the polite male who likes to treat his wife right.’
His low, husky tone left her in little doubt as to how well he would treat her, and in that instant she made one of those split-second decisions she’d probably regret later but couldn’t resist now.
‘Okay, dinner it is.’
‘Great. Tomorrow night suit?’
She opened her mouth to fob him off with some lame excuse about checking her diary, before snapping it shut.
He’d been nothing but helpful, courteous and lovely to her, and if all he expected in return was dinner, she’d be churlish not to oblige.
Who was she kidding? Dinner wasn’t all he was expecting—far from it. He wanted her, as his wife, a concept fast losing its initial lack of appeal.
‘Sounds good.’
She picked up the cocktail shaker and shook it as if her life depended on it, the jumbled contents whirling around in similar fashion to her chaotic emotions.
Accepting his offer had her torn between dancing through the café while singing out loud and running to the storeroom out back to hide for the next month.
‘Are you going to pick me up?’
His teasing smile warmed her heart as she poured his coffee into a tall glass and handed it to him.
‘Thought we’d already got past that point the other night?’
He laughed and raised his glass to her. ‘I didn’t pick you up. I asked my wife out.’
There he went again with the wife thing.
Okay, so he was right; technically she was still his wife, but that was all it was, a technicality. A fact that could be easily remedied, would be easily remedied if he’d stop smiling at her for two seconds so she could muster her resolve to not let him back in her life again.
Feigning a nonchalance she didn’t feel, she shrugged. ‘Same diff.’
Taking a sip, he sighed his appreciation. ‘You’re splitting hairs. Or should that be coffee beans?’
Laughing, she sipped her doppio, savouring the strong, hot rush of caffeine. ‘Fine. I’ll swing by your place. Make this a real equal-opportunity dinner date.’
‘Nothing sexier than a chivalrous woman.’
He winked and her heart turned over, beating a hundred miles a minute as she sent him a tremulous smile which hopefully covered the fact she was a quivering mess of nerves inside.
He thought she was sexy.
He was flirting with her in a light, non-pressured, appealing kind of way.
He was throwing everything at her defences, weakening her determination to hold him at bay with every seductive smile, with every twinkle in his gorgeous grey eyes.
It would be so easy to give in, so tempting to see how good they could be together now they were older, wiser, more mature.
But was she willing to take the risk? For there was nothing surer than the more time she spent with Blane the more likely it was that she would fall for him all over again, every charming inch.
Surely she couldn’t tread down the marriage road again? Not when it would involve baring her soul about the one thing she’d buried deep inside, her gut-wrenching sorrow at not being able to have children buried with the yearning for a baby she never knew she’d had until the option had been ripped away from her.
‘So now we’ve got that worked out, is it safe to bring up the topic of your project manager?’
‘All sorted.’
She dropped her gaze to her doppio before he could read her desperation. Yet another builder had walked this week, leaving her with a half-finished apartment and a permit that ran out shortly.
But she couldn’t hire him, not when she wanted him out of her life, and once she’d paid her dues with this dinner that was it.
No more meeting up, no more pseudo-dates, no more sharing coffees and chocolate.
The thought saddened her more than she could have dreamed possible.
‘Really?’
‘Uh-huh.’ She nodded vigorously, hoping the builder she’d lined up to meet in the morning would be exactly what she needed, for she couldn’t afford any more delays on the renovations, and having Blane so ready, willing and able to help wasn’t conducive to her getting him out of her life for good.
‘Fair enough, but remember the offer still stands. If you need some help, I’m your man.’
I’m your man.
He’d certainly been that at one time, for those all-too-short glorious three months when they’d laughed and teased and played as if they were the only romantic couple on the planet, a time when he’d been her fabled knight in shining armour and she would have happily followed him to the ends of the earth, secure in their love.
A time for long leisurely strolls on sultry summer evenings, hand in hand, idly exchanging hopes and dreams. A time for sharing hot fudge sundaes, play-fighting over who got the cherry on top and kissing the drips of chocolate from each other’s lips.
A time for newly awakened passion under starry nights, for eager caresses and soft sighs as they explored each other in intimate detail while snuggled under a picnic blanket down by the river.
But that time had long gone, faded into oblivion along with her dreams for a family, and he wasn’t her man any longer, despite every cell in her body screaming to get reacquainted with her husband.
Needing to get rid of him before she did something even more stupid than agree to have dinner with him as some silly payback for services rendered, she cast a pointed glance at her watch.
‘Thanks, but I’ll be fine. Now, I need to lock up and get some shut-eye. Big day tomorrow.’
‘No worries.’
Downing his iced coffee in a few thirsty gulps, he placed the glass in the sink behind the bar and ran the tap. ‘You said you lived nearby. Want me to walk you there? I’ve heard there’s been some trouble around here lately.’
Chuckling, she jerked a thumb over her left shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not walking anywhere. I’m sleeping out the back while my apartment’s being renovated.’
‘You’re kidding?’
He shook his head, his horrified expression sending a warm glow through her. He still cared about her, even if she didn’t want him to.
‘There’s no way you’re staying here. A locksmith on a job today said almost every café and restaurant along this strip has been broken into late at night or in the early hours, and he was called out this morning to the sushi place in the next block.’
‘Really?’
She hadn’t heard. Then again, the Niche had been running on one speed—flat out—since she’d opened up around eight. ‘Did they take much?’
Stepping closer, he laid a hand on her upper arm, his touch sending slivers of searing heat crackling through her.
‘They didn’t only rob the place. They knifed one of the kitchen hands who’d come in early to do some prep.’
‘Oh, no!’ Her hand flew to her mouth, her stomach roiling in shock at such a horrific, violent act happening so close to home. ‘Was he okay?’
‘It was a woman. Which is why you’re not staying here on your own, no matter what you
say.’
Shrugging off his hand, she squared her shoulders. ‘Look, I’ll be fine. I’m used to taking care of myself. And, besides, I have an alarm.’
His lips set in a thin, stubborn line. ‘You don’t think they had an alarm at the sushi place? Or all the other places along this precinct?’
He ran a hand through his hair, his jaw set, his exasperation palpable.
‘These guys slashed that poor girl even after she’d handed over the takings; it’s pretty obvious they’re brazen, hardened criminals who don’t give a damn about who they hurt or how badly. So there’s no way you’re staying here alone. Haven’t you got someone you can stay with?’
‘Do you think I’d be sleeping on a dodgy fold-out camp bed in the storeroom if I did?’
The sarcastic response popped out before she could think, and she mentally clamped a hand over her big mouth. Great, now he’d think she was a loser with no friends, when the truth of the matter was…well…apart from Anna, who rented a single room in a boarding house, she wasn’t close to anyone.
She’d liked it that way, had fostered her independence deliberately when she’d first come to Melbourne, eager to obliterate her painful memories of Blane and her traitorous parents and the baby that would never be by burying herself in making the Niche the best darn café this city had ever seen.
She’d learned it was easier not to rely on people, for they always let you down no matter how close or how much you loved them.
‘Well, then, there’s only one thing for it.’
She didn’t like the intent in his eyes, his rigid expression. ‘You’ll have to stay with me.’
‘No way!’
The corners of his mouth twitched. ‘Would you like some more time to think about your answer?’
Shaking her head, she backed away from him. Silly, really, as if physical distance could stop the current vibrating between them.
‘Thanks for the offer, but—’
‘Cam, this is non-negotiable. You’re not safe here, and there isn’t a hope in hell I’m taking no for an answer. You’re staying with me till your renovations are done, and that’s final.’
‘Is it now?’
Folding her arms over her chest, she tilted her chin and glared at him, hating his high-and-mighty attitude while a small part of her couldn’t help but love this new, take-charge Blane.
He’d always been so laid-back, so unruffled, and she’d loved that about him, yet this new commanding, powerful, take-no-prisoners guy was pretty impressive, too.
‘Look, this doesn’t have to be complicated.’ He held his hands out, palms up, as if he didn’t have any tricks up his sleeves. ‘I’m not trying to pressure you, and this isn’t some underhanded, dastardly plan to get you where I want you.’
Crossing the small space between them, he cradled her face before she could move, his touch warm and soothing and oh-so-right. ‘I care about you. And if it makes you feel any better, just consider my offer as that of a friend, no strings attached, okay?’
Was he insane? No strings attached? Not only were they bound by strings, they were lassoed, hog-tied and entangled in thick unbreakable rope.
If seeing him again after all this time was hard, living under the same roof would be pure torture.
She couldn’t do it.
However, she hadn’t got as far as she had in the city without a healthy serving of common sense, and right now her street savvy was telling her she was taking her independent stand to extremes.
She could trust Blane, he’d always been a man of his word, and if he was offering her a safe place to stay, she’d be smart to take it.
The Niche might be her life, but she’d be stupid to risk losing hers over it.
Staring up into his eyes, the flecks glowing cobalt, she knew there was only one answer she could give him: the sensible one.
He dropped his hands as she nodded slowly. ‘Okay. Thanks for the offer.’
She could have sworn he sagged with relief, and the depth of his caring struck her anew.
‘Great. Ready to go?’
‘Actually, I need to finalise some stuff before tomorrow, so why don’t you go ahead, and I’ll swing past your place later?’
‘No, I’ll wait.’
She laid a hand on his arm, hoping to convey her thanks at his chivalry. ‘I’ll be fine. It’s still early. There are people everywhere, and I’ll be sure to leave before dark.’
His gaze flickered to her hand, shaded and inscrutable, before slowly rising to meet hers. ‘You sure?’
She nodded. ‘I’ll see you soon.’
Indecision warred with stubbornness across his face as she squeezed his arm. ‘Go. I promise I won’t be long behind you.’
After a long moment, he covered her hand with his. ‘Ring me if you need someone to walk you out of here, okay?’
Smiling at his overprotectiveness, and feeling suitably warm and fuzzy because of it, she said, ‘Okay.’
‘I live in the Eureka Towers on Southbank. Apartment 8801. I’ll buzz you up when you get there. Take care.’
Dropping an all-too-brief kiss on her cheek, he sent her a half-salute and walked away, leaving her with the craziest urge to run after him.
CHAPTER FOUR
CAMRYN stared at the elevator buttons in confusion.
‘This can’t be right,’ she thought, wondering if she should pop out to the doorman and ask him to re-buzz Blane and double-check.
According to the fancy engraved writing above the gold buttons there was only one apartment, 8801, on the entire eighty-eighth floor of the swanky Eureka Towers. Only one? Considering the building was ninety-two storeys, and the eighty-eighth was the highest anyone could access, she’d hazard a guess Blane lived in the penthouse.
A penthouse which covered a whole floor?
Shaking her head in disbelief, she hit the button for 8801 and backed against the rear of the elevator, finding small comfort in the feel of hard, cold, gold-plated steel panels at her back, while her startled reflection stared back at her from surrounding mirrored glass.
Either he made an absolute fortune out of building or he was house-sitting for someone. And if so, he certainly moved in higher circles than she did.
She vaguely remembered the publicity surrounding the Towers when it first opened, about it being the tallest residential tower in the world and a penthouse costing around seven million dollars. The figure alone made her feel faint, exacerbated by the nine-second ride to the eighty-eighth floor.
Blinking as the doors soundlessly slid open, she stepped out, pulling a small wheelie suitcase, and caught her breath at the pale-gold carpets embossed with cream swirls, the filigree around the down-lights and the incredibly detailed cornices.
This place was stunning, and she hadn’t even made it into his apartment yet.
Pressing the doorbell, she smoothed her skirt, her belly churning with nerves.
It had nothing to do with this place and everything to do with the man about to open the door, a man she couldn’t stop thinking about, a man with the potential to distract her from her number one goal: to make the Niche the best café in Melbourne.
She didn’t do distractions.
She couldn’t afford to.
Her success in the city was the only thing that kept the loneliness demons away, kept her focused enough to not lament the loss of her husband, a possible baby and a family that had betrayed her trust in them.
As the door swung open, she fixed a smile on her face and forced her hands to her sides. If she smoothed her skirt any more it would look as if she’d spent the last hour ironing. And it was bad enough she’d decided to change without him thinking she’d gone overboard.
‘Hey, Cam. Come on in.’
Easy for him to say. How was a girl supposed to walk when her knees started shaking the moment she caught sight of him in sand-coloured chinos, casual white shirt and barefoot, looking laid-back and slightly mussed and sexy all at the same time.
Willing her knees t
o behave—lock, lift, flex—she walked past him, his fresh-from-the-shower scent not playing fair with her poor wobbly legs.
‘Nice place. Though kind of small, isn’t it?’
He chuckled, took her suitcase, propped it near the door and propelled her into the monstrous lounge area with a gentle hand in her back, an innocuous touch that had no right playing havoc with her body.
‘I like my space.’
‘It’s yours?’
She stopped at the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, her breath catching at the incredible view of Melbourne and its surrounds spread out like a fairy-tale city in the dusk.
‘Yeah, I bought it off the plan when they were building this place.’
With a superhuman effort she bit her tongue to stop from blurting what she was thinking: how could he afford a place like this?
Instead, she focused on identifying landmarks, taking in the sweeping vista from the Blue Dandenongs mountain range to Port Phillip Bay, from the beautiful Botanical Gardens laid out like a lush green carpet to the sparkling waters of Albert Park Lake.
And she thought she had great views in her tenth-storey Docklands apartment!
‘You’re curious, aren’t you?’
‘About?’ she returned pseudo-casually.
Gesturing to a Chippendale sofa for her to take a seat, he smiled. ‘About this place.’
Sinking into the deep leather, she crossed her legs, grateful she’d gone with the mid-calf pencil skirt and not her favourite above-the-knee mini which she always slipped into after work.
‘I’m a little intrigued,’ she admitted.
Taking a seat next to her, he rested his arm across the back and leaned towards her.
‘With me or my place?’
Overwhelmed by his nearness, she took a deep breath, his aftershave filtering through her senses, the intoxicating scent of pure Blane encouraging her to bridge the short gap between them and bury her nose in the crook of his neck. Right on the tempting spot where his collar rested against his neck, where his impressive tan dipped away to broad shoulders covered in cotton, the sensitive spot she knew for a fact would drive him wild if she nipped it.
She could lie, pretend there was nothing between them, act as if he didn’t affect her one little bit. But that wouldn’t be fair to either of them, and they’d been through too much to start playing games now.