by Fiona Harper
She would wear this dress again. One day soon. She didn’t know when or where, but she knew one thing for sure: Cameron would be at her side.
Cameron found himself in the midst of a group of businessmen, all congratulating themselves on their foresight in investing in his company and haw-hawing over each other’s off-colour jokes. He listened with only half an ear while he scanned the vast atrium for any hint of a green dress.
He hadn’t seen her since right after the fashion show, when he’d been but a few steps away from her and then Coreen had bustled her off backstage to do something urgent. She’d smiled at him, raised her eyebrows in apology, and since then he hadn’t even had a glimpse of her.
When he was able, he excused himself from the group of men and went in search of her. That was the problem with being the man of the moment. Everybody wanted to shake his hand, or have a word, or slap him on the back and remark on his ten-thousand-pound bid.
He started at the edge of the dance floor, which was packed, all the time looking, his eyes searching out a particular shade of emerald. And then he saw her, talking to some of the guests who’d been unlucky in the auction. He recognized the woman in the fur who’d bid for Alice’s dress. She wasn’t looking very pleased, and she was trying to press something into Alice’s hand.
Cameron tried to get to her, but he kept having to dodge people as they circled the fringes of the dance floor. It seemed whichever way he decided to go people deliberately stepped in his path, causing him to zig-zag. Once he’d cleared a particularly obstinate clump of left-footed dancers he looked to the space where Alice had been standing—but she was gone.
Damn.
The fashion show had finished almost an hour ago and it was nearing eleven o’clock. He needed to find her before the party ended.
Something rather round and rather solid barrelled into him, almost sending him flying—and that was no mean feat. He twisted round to find a portly man in a white dinner jacket mouthing apologies at him.
He’d just planted his feet solidly on the ground again when he became aware of someone standing behind him, waiting for him. Some unknown instinct told him it was a woman. Slowly, very slowly, he turned to face her.
Alice stopped dead, and her skirt swirled round her ankles then fell into perfectly spaced folds.
There he was, maybe only twenty feet away, and she watched as he turned without seeing her and faced the most stunning woman she’d ever seen outside the pages of the fashion magazines. If she’d needed a definition of glamour, this woman was it. Blonde. Tall. An eye-popping figure. In other words she was everything Alice was not. And she couldn’t even fault her for her carriage or her dress sense. She held herself as if she was entitled to get everything her heart desired, especially the man she had set her sights on, and there was nothing cheap or nasty about her recreation of Marilyn’s pink dress from How To Marry a Millionaire. Even from this distance Alice could tell it was beautifully made.
The blonde snaked her hand around Cameron’s arm and reached down to twine her fingers with his, then leaned in close to whisper something in his ear. His back was to Alice, so she couldn’t see his expression, but he leaned forward and whispered something back. Just the thought of his lips being that close to another woman, so she’d feel his breath tickle her ear, made Alice’s stomach instantly freeze with jealousy.
The way was open now. A clear path between her and Cameron. She could just walk up to him, tap him on the shoulder, smile and cut in…
But she didn’t
She watched her moment slide away, watched the crush of the crowd push Cameron and the blonde further away from her until they had disappeared. Stupid, she knew. But she didn’t want to have to stand next to the vision in pink. She didn’t want Cameron to make comparisons. Alice never did well in that kind of situation. She had never been anyone’s first choice.
Later. When he was alone. When he wouldn’t be distracted, dazzled…Maybe then she’d have the chance to see if that warm smile was still in his eyes for her. She turned and walked in the other direction, her sense of euphoria deflating as quickly as an old wrinkled party balloon.
Later seemed as if it would never happen. Alice found herself at the beck and call of all sorts of people for the next half an hour. The bar was running out of ice, someone had twisted their ankle trying to foxtrot and needed the first-aid kit, the clothes sold at the auction needed to be hung properly and labeled, so they could be claimed by the right owner. As organiser of the evening Alice had to deal with all of these things, and although she managed to delegate, something else often popped up to suck away her time.
The large, square white-faced clock above the main entrance to the atrium showed that it was twenty to twelve, and she hadn’t been able to find Cameron anywhere since she’d dealt with her latest emergency. Alice had the horrible feeling that if she didn’t find him tonight that warm smile for her would disappear from his eyes and never come again.
All around her people were dancing. Some twirled expertly, like Fred and Ginger, some merely held onto each other and attempted to match the beat of the music. Alice’s brisk walk slowed as she took in the sights and sounds around her.
She watched as a couple near her swayed. They were so taken up with each other that they weren’t even really dancing any more. They weren’t moving in time with the music, just moving in time with one another. His hand held her firmly round her waist; one of her hands was cupped at the back of his neck, claiming him. Their free hands were knotted together and laid against his chest, and they were just staring into each other’s eyes. After a few moments, he kissed her nose. She sighed and rested her forehead against his and they shuffled away.
One dance, thought Alice. That’s all I want. Once dance.
Surely that can’t be too much to ask for—not after all the hard work I’ve put in?
As if on cue, she saw him. The undulating sea of dancing couples parted long enough for her to catch a glimpse of Cameron. He was dancing with someone. Slowly. Gently.
Her heart stopped.
But then he turned his partner and her pulse kicked into life again. It was an older lady he was with, her silver hair festooned with a long black feather tucked into a twenties headband, and Cameron was smiling indulgently at her.
Once again Alice made her way towards him, picking up speed now, but just before she was close enough for him to hear her call his name the blonde materialised, cutting in and leaving the older woman to smile politely and then look daggers at her back as she steered Cameron away.
But Cameron looked up over the blonde’s shoulder and his eyes locked onto Alice’s. He gave her the barest of smiles—one that said Sorry. I’ll be with you soon…
Alice exhaled as he disappeared out of sight again. The warmth had been there—the smile—and she knew without a doubt that when the song ended he would make his excuses and come and find her.
Suddenly, for the first time in her life, Alice had the burning urge to go and check her lipstick.
Being quite familiar with the ground floor layout by now, she knew that a ladies’ room was just outside the side door nearby—one that other people might not know about. It would be cool and quiet, and she could check her make-up and gather herself together before Cameron found her. She slipped out through the door and hurried down a short corridor.
When she actually got in front of a mirror, she realised that she couldn’t have done anything about a lipstick disaster anyway. The little tube of deep berry-red Coreen had lent her was in her bag. And her bag was in Cameron’s office. But it turned out she needn’t have worried. The lipstick had lived up to the advertising campaign and was still virtually tattooed on. By the looks of it she’d still be trying to scrub it off next Tues—
The door creaked and Alice instinctively straightened. It seemed a bit vain to be caught nose to mirror, examining her reflection. She ran her fingers through the long wave of bright hair that half covered her face before glancing in the direction of the
person—the woman—now hovering just beyond her field of peripheral vision.
Oh. It was her.
She turned to leave, not really wanting to share a confined space with the blonde—Cameron’s blonde—but found her blocking the exit, one hand on a curvaceous hip. The other woman looked her up and down, the tiniest of sneers twitching her lips into an ugly shape.
‘Excuse me,’ Alice said, and moved to pass her.
But Blondie didn’t budge. She licked her glossy lips and gave Alice a slow, predatory smile. ‘I think we need to have a chat, darling.’
Dah-ling. On her lips, the word sounded positively vicious, despite the fact that her voice matched her appearance—cool, cultured. Expensive. Alice felt her hackles rise, but she wasn’t about to give this woman the advantage by letting her irritation show.
‘A chat about…? And who are you, anyway?’
She laughed—a soft, husky sound. ‘Oh, I think you know the subject we both have in common. And I’m Jessica.’ She raised her eyebrows, clearly waiting for a response.
Alice didn’t have one to give her. She had no idea who Jessica was—other than that she’d been wrapped around—
‘Jessica Fernly-Jones,’ she added, as if it should mean something.
Alice just stared back at her, and waited for her to get whatever it was she wanted to say off her ample chest.
‘Cameron and I…we’ve been seeing each other for months. We’re very…close, if you know what I mean?’
Alice’s stomach began to churn, but she pulled her abdominal muscles in tight. ‘And what has this got to do with me?’
That laugh again. It probably drove men wild, but it was as soothing to Alice as nails down a blackboard.
‘Now, now. Don’t be coy with me, darling. We’re both women…’ Her gaze fluttered down to Alice’s chest and back up again. ‘We can be frank with one another.’
Jessica Fernly-Jones could be as frank as she liked. It didn’t mean Alice would return the favour.
‘He’s a very attractive man, as I’m sure you’ve noticed…’
Alice flushed, then a rush of anger at her own involuntary response compounded the problem. Jessica gave her a long, knowing look.
‘He uses it to his advantage, you know—to get what he wants. Whether that be sealing a deal, crushing his competitors…’ a split-second glance in the direction of the atrium was all it took to add a little venom to her next words ‘…to see a project finished to his high standards. But he never gets involved. He always moves on, looking for that elusive perfect woman. You do know that, don’t you?’
Alice forced her lungs to expand, even though her rib cage felt horribly tight. The action helped her keep a lid on her anger.
Jessica gave her a look of mock-sympathy. ‘Oh, poor girl…’
Girl? From the looks of it Miss Fernly-Jones was only a year or so older than she was. That was it. She wasn’t listening to any more of this.
She could hardly believe that Cameron could get involved with someone like this. But she knew just from the body language she’d witnessed on the dance floor that Jessica was telling the truth—she had a history with Cameron. Whether it was anything more than ancient history remained to be seen.
Once Dawn from the market had learned who Coreen’s Closet was working with, she’d tried to inveigle her way into the project by being useful. She’d sent Alice e-mail after e-mail with information about Cameron she’d found on the internet. There’d been articles from the business pages, but also snippets from the gossip columns—and in every entry he was pictured with a different woman, each one more stunning than the last. That was obviously what appealed to him, and even in her current state of fancy dress Alice knew she just didn’t qualify. Cameron liked eye-candy.
She didn’t want to believe he was that shallow, but she couldn’t ignore it. He was driven, but damaged. After his revelations the other night, she knew that he was capable of all the things Jessica had just accused him of—but she understood why. How pathetic was it that the knowledge just made her ache for him more, made her want to soothe his pain? Why couldn’t she just harden herself and walk away?
Jessica had been watching her face, and now a look of self-satisfaction spread a smile across her lips.
Alice pulled herself tall. ‘Well, thanks for the tip, Jessica. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll be on my way…’
This time Jessica shifted position to let her pass, and Alice celebrated a very minor victory in these horrible few moments of her life. She hadn’t let Jessica win. The woman had thrown all her ammunition at her and she hadn’t let Jessica Fernly-Jones see her crumble. Alice felt Jessica’s eyes drilling holes into her back as she headed for the door. Her fingers had just closed round the handle when Jessica released her parting shot.
‘It’s a beautiful dress.’
Alice just pulled the door open. This conversation was over.
‘I’m looking forward to wearing it.’
Just go. Don’t react. Walk away.
The tug of curiosity was too strong—like the morbid fascination that caused drivers to slow down and rubberneck on a motorway when there’d been a pile-up, even though they knew what they saw might disturb them. She looked over her shoulder. Jessica was walking towards her, her mask of civility discarded, half hanging off.
‘That’s right, darling. He bought it for me. Didn’t you see me sitting next to him, egging him on?’
Alice gasped. At the time she’d been too busy looking at Cameron and running the auction to process the other details her eyes had been sending to her brain, but now the information arrived, breathless and apologising for its lateness.
Jessica with her hand on Cameron’s forearm. Jessica whispering into Cameron’s ear…
Jessica ran a hand carelessly through her platinum waves. ‘Cam’s always said he likes me in green.’ Her eyes narrowed as she came to stand virtually nose to nose with Alice. ‘Or should I say he likes it so much he prefers to see me out of it?’
Alice felt sick. She didn’t know what kind of game this woman was playing, but even the thought of her naked with Cameron turned her stomach to ice. And she couldn’t even dismiss the images rushing through her brain as nonsense, because at some point recently they probably had been reality. She yanked the door open and left Jessica standing alone in the ladies’.
There was only one way she could respond to all of this information. Alice did what she did best.
Alice ran.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE cold air hit her hard. The heavy glazed door swung closed behind her and she dragged in a breath and folded her arms around herself, trying to rub flat the goosebumps that appeared instantly on her upper arms. The imposing building towered above her, the lines of the giant sunburst above the door harsh and foreboding in the floodlights.
Blast. Her coat. It was upstairs in Cameron’s office.
Even though it was bitterly cold she wouldn’t have thought twice about leaving it there, but it wasn’t just her coat she needed. Her bag was up there too, and without it she had no phone to call a cab, let alone the means to pay for it.
She sighed and headed back indoors. At least she wouldn’t have to pass through the atrium to get her things. She could just nip up the winding stairs and be out again before anyone saw her. Not that anybody was likely to be looking for her but Coreen, and the last Alice had seen of her she’d been chatting up one of the saxophone players on his break.
It seemed to take for ever to clomp up the three flights of stairs in her shoes, her Lucite heels announcing her presence to anyone who cared to listen. So much for ‘nipping’ anywhere. But there was no other noise in the echoing stairwell. She was pretty sure she was alone.
Finally her telltale shoes were silenced by the thick dark carpet of Cameron’s office. Alice realised from the soft glow coming from the open doorway that, although she’d turned the office lights off when they’d left earlier, she’d forgotten the one in the dressing room. Not wanting to anno
unce her presence in the office to all the partygoers in the atrium, who would be able to see the light in the windows if they looked up, she decided not to hit the main switch. She only needed to find her bag, and her eyes were becoming accustomed to the dark already. The light from the dressing room would be enough.
Now, where had she left it?
Oh, yes…by that funny-looking chair with the chrome frame and wide leather straps. It looked very stylish, but it had to be the most uncomfortable thing she’d ever sat on. Obviously Cameron didn’t want any of his visitors getting too relaxed.
Cameron.
Just the thought of him made her sigh.
She shook her head and went in search of her bag. But it wasn’t on the chair. Where had it gone? Alice squinted in the dark and thought she made out a shape on the floor. It must have dropped through the leather straps. She crouched down and reached for the dark lump. Her fingers met velvet, and she picked up the slightly tired clutch bag. She was just straightening her legs when she heard a door graze the carpet.
Someone was coming. Please let it be Coreen. Please don’t let it be…
The world started to spin faster and faster. He was silhouetted in the doorway by the bright lights of the hallway, and then he stepped into the shadows and the door swung closed behind him.
Even though purple blobs were filling her vision, multiple imprints of Cameron’s outline in negative, she knew he was looking at her.
‘You can’t leave yet, Alice.’
What was it Jessica had said? Oh, she couldn’t remember the exact words, but the truth had hit home, and the squeeze of her heart at the thought brought the stinging sentiment behind them rushing back. Something about Cameron being very charming when he needed to be—when he wanted something from you.
The ball was almost over. What on earth did he need from her now? Couldn’t he just let her go before she made a fool of herself? She hugged her bag to her midriff. Her heart and her head were telling her completely different stories, and she needed time to work out which one was fibbing.