Great enough, in fact, that she didn’t even feel out of place on the 96th floor of the Hancock Tower, accompanied by Chicago’s third most eligible bachelor. They’d had dinner, and now drinks, and the night was going about 200% better than Leah had expected it to. Rick Machin, it turned out, was fabulous company. He was funny, attentive, well-mannered, and a rich source of scurrilous gossip about people she hoped to one day count as clients.
They were drinking Windy City cocktails, and sitting by a floor-to-ceiling window that made Leah feel like she could fall out and tumble through the sky at any minute. Rick, handsome in a cool blonde tennis coach kind of way, was sitting close enough that he could grab hold of her if she did.
“So, why did you ask me out, Rick Machin?” she asked, boldly. This was her third Windy City cocktail, and it was coming pretty close to blowing her over.
Rick grinned, and lots of little creases appeared at the sides of his blue eyes. She liked that in a man. Showed he smiled a lot. He was exceptionally well-dressed, tall, ‘dishy’, as her mother might have said. Very GQ. Worked as a senior partner at his family’s law firm, who represented the Cavellis. He was part of the Chicago elite, which made the question even more relevant in her eyes. She was, after all, only the hired help, and needed to know if she’d be driving home in a pumpkin at midnight.
“That’s very direct, Leah – is that a you thing, or an English thing?” he asked.
“Ummm, me, I think. But what I meant was, why ask me out, when I’m told you could have your pick of the gorgeous young things of Chicago. Don’t get me wrong, I know I’m okay. But I’m hardly a supermodel, am I?”
“Maybe I’m tired of supermodels,” he said, sipping his own cocktail. Non-alcoholic, as he was driving. Somewhere deep inside her slowly pickling brain, Leah knew that was a bad thing – to be drinking this much herself when her companion was sober. It was a slippery slope, and she was wearing very high heels.
“That doesn’t sound likely,” she replied, placing her glass down on the table so she wouldn’t be tempted to start yet another one. “Surely if you’re tired of supermodels, you’re tired of life?”
“Supermodels aren’t all they’re cracked up to be,” he said. “They don’t eat. They don’t cook. They don’t say ‘sodding hell’ when they spill olives on their lap. And they don’t laugh so hard they snort Windy City Martinis out of their nostrils, either.”
“That was your fault,” Leah replied. “You shouldn’t have made me laugh when I was drinking.”
“You’ve been laughing all night,” he pointed out. “And drinking all night. It was inevitable the two would collide at some point or another.”
She nodded happily, feeling the warm and fuzzy effect of the alcohol swim down as far as her toes. “You’re right. I have laughed a lot tonight. In fact, I’ve really enjoyed myself.”
“You sound surprised. What were you expecting? Dull guy in suit?”
“Well, yes, of course…but also…well, there’s stuff. About me. Runaway bride and all that. Plus other stuff. Stuff that’s not been very laughter-inducing recently.”
“Stuff?” he queried, raising one eyebrow. “That’s very articulate. Deep dark secrets?”
Rick reached out and took her hand in his, stroking her fingers, her wrist. It felt nice to be touched, and touched kindly. It felt pleasant, maybe more if she gave it a chance. But there was no shock of excitement. No spark, like there had been with that other guy. The one she wasn’t obsessing about tonight. He Who Shall Not Be Named.
Even as the thought crossed her mind, she tensed, and pulled her hand away from Rick’s, trying to keep the smile fixed on her face. There might be other men for her, one day. But not Rick, and not now, no matter how many cocktails she downed.
“Not deep and dark, no. Just stuff. Stuff that makes me think maybe I should lock myself up in a cupboard for a few months until I get my head on straight. Look Rick, I really have had great fun tonight, and goodness knows I needed it. Under different circumstances, I’d probably have wrestled you under the table and snogged you by now. I hope we can be friends and do this again, but right now, it can’t be anything more than that. I’m just not girlfriend material. Assuming the nostril thing hadn’t put you off already.”
“No,” he said, “it hadn’t put me off. In fact I found it weirdly attractive. I may be turning into some kind of pervert.”
“You’re not one already?” she asked, smiling to take the edge off what they both knew was a rejection.
“Only a little bit,” he said, returning her grin, “and only on a full moon. Leah, I had a great night too. And I won’t lie, I’d be happier if it ended with you back at my place, discussing my perversions in private. But if you need me to be just a friend, then you’ve got it. I can do that. And I suppose, if forced, I could always call in the occasional supermodel to fulfil my other needs…”
Leah burst out laughing, luckily with her mouth empty this time. God, it felt good to laugh again. It felt good to flirt, and know it would come to nothing. It felt good to put on make-up and high heels and feel admired. It felt good to spend the night engaged in shallow, harmless fun with another human being. Maybe tonight, with a belly full of booze and nothing more serious than Rick’s risqué jokes floating through her mind, she would finally be able to sleep properly.
“That’s brilliant,” she said, both relieved and relaxed. “Now, friend of mine, could you be a love and take me home? I have the sneaky suspicion I might be a wee bit hammered.”
Rick paid the bill, and they left. The night might not be heading in quite the direction he’d hoped, but the smile never faded, and the good humour never waned. Rick, she decided, was just plain easy to be around. If only she fancied him, he’d be the perfect man.
When they arrived back at Cavelli Tower, he offered her a hand to help her out of the car.
“Come on,” he said, “I’ll escort you to your chambers. Dorothea would have me shot at dawn if you broke an ankle on the way up.”
The car was some low-slung sporty affair, and the ground did suddenly feel a bit unsteady beneath her heels, so she took it, grateful of the support.
They rode in the security coded elevator to Leah’s floor, and stood outside her door saying their goodbyes. Rick was holding both her hands, and she was still giggling at his latest gag. Something foul involving a pot bellied pig, Elvis Presley and a turkey baster. She genuinely couldn’t remember when she’d last laughed so much, at something so stupid. It was like being back in high school again, without the hormones or love hearts on her pencil case.
“So…” he said, as the laughter subsided, squeezing her fingers lightly. “God loves a trier, or so I’m told – any chance of coming in for coffee? Seeing as I’m such a funny guy?”
His face was dressed up in such a plaintive, little-boy expression that she started laughing again. He was indeed a trier, and she wasn’t even remotely fooled by the innocent act.
“Not a chance, pal,” she replied firmly, unable to stop smiling. “I’m not quite that drunk, and, well, just no. It wouldn’t work, Rick, I’m sorry. You’re a lovely—”
“Let me guess – I’m a lovely guy and some woman will be lucky to have me? I’m a great catch, but you’re not interested in throwing out a line?”
“Wow, it’s like you read my mind… But you are a great catch, Rick. You already know that. Third most eligible bachelor in Chicago, or so I’m told.”
“Third? Ha! I’m insulted – who told you that? And who beat me to first and second?”
“Dorothea Cavelli, and her sons,” she replied, smirking slightly. Rick clasped his hands to his chest, as though he’d been stabbed in the heart.
“Damn that biased bitch. Well, you can’t blame me for trying, Leah. I had a great time tonight, and I really do think you’re gorgeous. Now, as you’ve managed to do the unthinkable and resist my charms all evening, I can only conclude that there’s someone else on the scene. Someone too stupid to realise what he’s got. S
o remember I’m only a phone call away. I could always help with guy tactics.”
“Thanks, Rick. That’s very kind, but I don’t think there’s any point. I don’t think he even likes me, never mind anything more than that.”
“Then he’s an idiot,” Rick replied, “and if you ever reveal his secret identity, I’ll tell him so myself, after I’ve kicked his ass for making you look so sad. Anyway, sweetheart, as you’re insisting on going to bed alone, I’ll leave you to it. I’d recommend drinking a large glass of water first, and having several Advil ready to go in the morning. But before I leave, Leah, I’m going to kiss you goodnight. Just to see if we can’t chase him out of your head for a minute or two. Don’t argue – you might even like it!”
He smiled and leaned forward, taking her gently in his arms. His movements were cautious, his touch soft, his eyes alert on hers. Like he was moving slowly for her sake, giving her all the time in the world to protest if she wanted to, looking for any sign that she was distressed. Being a man, but being nice about it.
She wasn’t distressed; in fact now he’d raised the issue, she was curious. She let him embrace her, wondering if he was right. If his kiss could chase Rob out of her head. If it would rock her world and bring her to her knees in a frenzy of sexual desire. If kissing Rick would exorcise the ghost of kisses past. It was worth a go.
She turned her face up towards his; relaxed into his arms. Rick needed no further encouragement, and leaned down to kiss her.
Leah responded as enthusiastically as she could, winding her fingers into his blonde hair, snuggling close to the long line of his body. She tried to loosen up, to give herself over to it. To really, truly enjoy it. She gave it her best shot, but she still knew the answers pretty much straight away. Nothing was rocking, apart from her on her tipsy heels. Rob was still very much there, a glowering black cloud lodged in her mind, just like he always was. The touch of Rick’s lips was pleasant, but nothing more.
He pulled away after the kiss, keeping her in his arms, hands clasped low on her back, looking down at her upturned face.
“Anything?” he said, his tone making it a question.
“Nothing,” she replied, shaking her head sadly.
“Damn!” he answered through gritted teeth. “I’ve lost my mojo! I need to find me a supermodel and get some practice… Goodnight, Leah. I’ll see you soon, friend.”
She couldn’t help but giggle as he turned to leave, giving her a cheery wave. She hadn’t dented his ego after all. She suspected it was made of titanium. That was a good thing - Rick was the first non-Cavelli friend she’d made in Chicago, and she didn’t want to lose him this quickly. And despite the fact that Rob seemed to have ruined her for all other men on the kissing front, she felt a seed of happiness for the first time in days.
Well, not happiness exactly she thought, fumbling with the key to her apartment. But something slightly less than abject misery. She was still smiling as she finally managed to crack the Da Vinci code and get the door open, tripping over her own feet slightly on the way in.
***
Thank God, thought Rob, hidden behind the fire exit, door cracked open a couple of inches while he watched. He released the breath he’d been holding for what felt like hours, moved his feet to get some blood flowing back through his calves.
He’d been hidden there for the entire farewell scene, immobile and silent. Not spying, he told himself. Protecting her interests. She was vulnerable right now, and he was doing the honourable thing and looking out for her. Rob recognised the lie as soon as he thought it: there was nothing honourable about the way he felt. The fact that he wanted to follow Rick Machin down into the parking lot and beat the crap out of him proved that.
But at least she was in, and she was in alone. For a moment there he thought Rick was going to push for the invite, despite the fact that Leah was obviously drunk. And what would he have done then? Called the cops? Faked a fire alarm? He had no right to stop her from doing what any grown woman might have the urge to do from time to time: get naked with an attractive man.
There was a pounding sensation pulsing through his veins, hammering at his temples and jaw. He thought it might be his own blood literally boiling at the thought. He flexed his fingers, grimaced as he did it – he’d been clenching his fists so tightly he’d cut half-crescent shapes into his own palms. It had been the only way to stay quiet as he watched Rick Machin put his grubby paws all over Leah. He’d been too far away to hear a word they were saying, but the visual was enough, thank you very much.
He’d got back from New York that afternoon, feeling calmer and more in control. With a plan of action. A to-do list that would put his life back on the path it had been on before Christmas. Before her. And now, a few short hours later, he was hiding in the stairwell of his own building, acting like a Peeping Tom and self-harming. That was the effect Leah had on him. And that was why she had to go.
The trip to New York had been good. Good for business, good for him. As ever, the guilt about Meredith had needed to run its course. It was like a river: if you tried to dam it up, it always came out somewhere, flooding the levee when you least wanted it to. So he’d run – away from Marco’s cloying concern and Dorothea’s transparent attempts to make him jealous. Away from the complexities of living under the same roof with a group of people who all thought they could fix him.
Mainly, he’d run away from Leah. He’d ignored the texts, the messages. The silly email with its smiley faces. The flow of irate memos from Felicia. Ignored everything she’d sent him, on the principle that if he did it long enough, even Leah would give up on him. He’d tried to put her off with the brutal truth on New Year’s, and when that hadn’t worked, hoped absence would do it. Absence, and arrogance. Two of his specialist subjects.
He’d come home to face her. To explain that he had some kind of incurable disease that made him a bad man to be around. That turned him into an unremitting ass. To help her househunt, help her arrange her next client, nag Marco about the visa – whatever the hell it took to get her out of the building. Out of eyeshot. Out of his bloodstream. He needed her gone, and would try to do it with as much kindness as he could. After all, it has was his crazy, spontaneous, sexed-up offer that had landed her here in the first place.
Because no matter what he’d thought originally, they could never just be friends. Sure, he believed her when she said she wanted to try. And maybe she was nobler than him; maybe she could control her libido long enough for them to be close. But he damn well couldn’t. He’d never be able to look at her without remembering the feel of her soft curves beneath him; to listen to her voice without recalling the moans and sighs she made as she climaxed. To see her in clothes and fail to imagine her without them. He couldn’t be her friend – but he could try not to be her enemy. The least he owed her was civility as he shoved her out the door.
When Leah hadn’t even been at home when he got back, he’d felt deflated. And, as he stared at the closed door to her apartment wondering where she was and what she was doing, self-aware enough to recognise his own arrogance: did he expect her to be sitting on the doorstep like a puppy, waiting for her master’s return? She was an adult. She had a life. He’d positively encouraged her to go out and get one, last time they’d spoken. Could he blame her if that was what she’d done? Even Leah’s goodwill had its limits.
That was fine, he told himself through gritted teeth. That was what he wanted too. And it was no big deal – he would see her later, or the next day. Whatever she was out doing, he was okay with it. It was all good. He was good…Everything was cool.
Except that by the time it reached 11pm, the cool had turned into more of a cold sweat. He was tired, and should have been in bed, but something kept him up, awake, developing callouses from hitting redial on his phone.
She didn’t have a car, so someone else was driving her. Neither Marco nor his mother were taking calls either, so she might be with them. Even Artie had no idea where she was, which was like God
admitting defeat. And, more to the point, it was nothing to do with him. Except, what if something had happened to her? She was new to the city, didn’t know its dangers, was way too trusting. Maybe he should keep trying. Purely for safety’s sake.
By midnight, he found himself accidentally slouched in front of the security cameras that covered the main foyer. There was a monitor in his apartment, so he could check who was asking to see him. He’d dragged a chair over, watched, and waited, snacking on popcorn and bitterness. It wasn’t a riveting show until the door opened and she tottered in, wearing a skirt so short it was a moral outrage, and heels so high they made her the Leaning Tower of Leah.
Helping her along, holding her hand, was Rick Machin. Looking way too smug and pleased with himself.
Chapter 14
Rob had stood up, dropped the popcorn, kicked the bowl so hard it flew to the other side of the room, smashing into the wall. It arced tiny yellow kernels through the air as it went, scattering them all over the carpet like golden hail. He kicked again, and the chair fell backwards, banging down to the floor, its leather back crunching into the popcorn. Other than the monitor, there was nothing left to kick, so he forced himself to calm down as much as his blood pressure would allow.
Damn. His mother must have finally convinced her to go on a date with Rick. He wasn’t an idiot; he knew Dorothea liked Leah, saw her as some kind of redemption. Knew that she wanted to make him jealous, make him realise what he had to lose, as though he was a teenager again. Well, it looked like she’d won – she’d persuaded Leah to take Rick up on his offer. And it looked like Leah had enjoyed every single minute of it, if the giddy look on her face was anything to go by.
And can you blame her, he wondered, when you all but pimped her out yourself? He’d sat there, hungover at the dining table, feasting on his own pain, and told her in front of witnesses that it was time for her to move on. Told her, in that cold voice he’d put on to try and close her down, that it was time for her to find someone new. Okay, he’d been hurting, deep in the darkness that surrounded Meredith and her death, but he’d been so harsh. Rejected her, in front of his family, like the bastard he was capable of being.
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