by Fiona Harper
Despite his promise to himself to give her the space she wanted, he found himself reaching for one of her hands. ‘I don’t want you to be like—’
She pulled her hand away. ‘Please, Cameron!’ Tears shimmered on her lashes, ran down her cheeks.
He hated himself for being responsible for them, for not being enough of a man for her to stay for.
‘I need to go home,’ she said in a flat voice.
‘You can have my car. It’s—’
She shook her head. ‘All I need is my bag and my coat.’
He fetched her coat for her while she got her bag, and then she walked out through the door. But before she left she turned slightly and whispered one last thing. ‘Thank you…for not making me stay.’
For the longest time Cameron just stared at the back of the door. He wanted to go and drag her back, explain. But that would be the worst thing he could do. Instead he flipped his tie over and took a look at the hidden woman inside. That wasn’t what he wanted at all!
He was through with fake two-dimensional women. He wanted someone who made him feel alive—someone who made him feel, full-stop. Someone like Alice. Someone exactly like Alice.
But he couldn’t blame her for not realising he’d changed—not when he’d only just cottoned onto the fact himself. But he had to try and make her see…
He thought of Alice making her way home alone, tears in her eyes. He thought about the limo parked outside, ready to whisk him anywhere he wanted to go, anywhere he commanded. She’d asked him not to stop her leaving, but he hadn’t said he couldn’t follow her, had she? He had to give this one last chance.
He had a lot to offer a woman. And he was going to offer it all to Alice.
By the time Alice emerged from Cameron’s office she discovered the ball was drifting to a close. Music still played, but it came from speakers. The band had been booked to play until midnight and they were now packing up. Only a few dozen people were left in the atrium. Some were still dancing, most were chatting, and every few seconds another small group peeled off and headed for the exit.
She deliberately didn’t look up as she scurried across the vast space, past the stage and beyond, into the mayhem of the backstage area. It was all quiet now. Clothing racks stood empty, everything having been packed away by an army of helpers, and the only noise was a scuffling coming from one of the corners.
It was Coreen, sitting on one of the vintage suitcases—battered sky-blue leather with a chrome trim—that she’d brought some of their stock in. She was trying to persuade it to close, with the help of her curves and a little gravity. She looked up and saw Alice.
‘Give us a hand, will you? I can’t get the blasted thing shut.’
Alice dropped onto the suitcase next to her, too soul-weary to do it gracefully. It did the job, though, because Coreen leaned forward and clicked the fasteners into place. She grinned at Alice.
‘Now, as long as it doesn’t decide to spring open before I get in the cab, I’m all set.’
Alice sighed. ‘Is that offer of sharing a cab still open?’
One of Coreen’s eyebrows twitched upwards. ‘Course it is.’
An even bigger sigh escaped from her lips and Coreen slung an arm round her and squeezed.
‘Hey, come on. We did great! You’re just having the slump after the adrenaline high. Get home, have a hot chocolate to pump up your blood sugar, and you’ll be fine.’
Post-adrenaline slump. That was what this was, was it? Nothing to do with having just walked away from the man she was in love with? Good. She’d be fine by morning, then.
Only she wouldn’t.
Love wasn’t the comfortable armchair she’d always imagined it to be. It wasn’t safe and warm and fluffy. It was scary and painful and heart-stoppingly exciting. Nothing like the sanitised version she’d inflicted on the men in her life.
Was this what Paul felt when he looked at Felicity? This heart-thumping, brain-frying, all-body tremor-inducing thing? She understood it now. Why he’d left. Why he’d had to follow it wherever it took him if he had a chance of finding someone who could make him feel like this, who felt the same way about him. Good luck to him. And she really meant that.
Coreen stood up, grabbed her hand and tugged her upright. ‘Cab’s due in five. We’d better get outside.’
Alice just nodded. Then she looked at the suitcase. ‘Shouldn’t that have gone in the back of Dodgy Dave’s van with everything else?’
‘Are you nuts? I’ve got all the costume jewellery in here, padded out with a few scarves and a mink cape. I’m not letting dear old Dave get his mitts on this!’
It made sense.
She let Coreen yabber away as they walked to the front of the building and climbed into the waiting cab. Alice sat numbly in the back as they nipped through the quiet backstreets to her house.
She’d done the right thing. She’d had to run when she had.
If she’d been weaker, had given in to Cameron’s pull, then she’d have ended up in a terrible mess—her heart squished beyond recognition and no good to anyone, not even second-hand. That didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt like hell, but it did mean that one day, when she found someone who thought she was everything a woman should be, she’d have something to love him back with. She just hoped her poor heart had recovered by then—because it seemed to have a terminal case of something at the moment, despite all the sensible things she’d done to protect it.
At least she’d have her new business to concentrate on. From what Coreen had said they had been inundated with requests for more of the same kind of merchandise from some very wealthy potential clients. She was even talking about finding a shop to lease in a better neighbourhood than they’d looked at before—something a little more upmarket.
Coreen lived closer, so it made sense for the taxi to drop her off first. And, horrible as it might sound, Alice was quite relieved when she and her blue suitcase were gone. She was able to drop the fake smile, stop all the nodding, and just slump in the back seat of the cab.
Back to real life now, Alice. Pull yourself together. The ball was a success. Coreen’s Closet is going to take off. You’ve got the whole world at your feet.
Thinking of feet, she looked down at her Lucite shoes. They were still as fabulous as ever, but they were both still accounted for. Cinderella she was not—even if she’d seemed to track of that for a while back there. No, it had all been smoke and mirrors, spotlights and glitter balls. Now it was time to get back to the real world. Time to turn back into a pumpkin.
CHAPTER NINE
THE limo didn’t have any problem trailing Alice’s taxi. Cameron drummed his fingers on the arm rest as he watched the cab stop and let her out. He paid careful attention to which path she went up in the narrow car-lined street filled with redbrick terraced houses. As soon as he’d pinpointed the right front door he was out of the car and knocking on it.
But it wasn’t Alice who answered, but a short guy in a curry-dribbled T-shirt. He didn’t even bat an eyelid when Cameron asked for Alice, even though it was half past one in the morning.
‘You’d better come in,’ he said, opening the door wide. ‘We’re not quite sure what to do with her.’
We? And what was the matter with Alice?
Cameron followed the man into a living room dominated by a large flat-screen TV and enough high-spec audio visual equipment to make any geek’s heart soar. A battle game of some description was paused on the TV—a large, sharp-toothed monster frozen in mid-air, about to land on a blood-smeared dragon. The remains of a takeaway were littered across the carpet, along with a couple of empty cans of cheap beer. And in the middle of all this clutter and stale-smelling furniture was Alice, in her dark green ballgown, looking as beautiful as ever and sobbing her heart out.
He walked over to her, crouched down and took her hands. She didn’t even flinch, too miserable even to be surprised to see him. She held up a shoe and gulped.
‘I broke my shoe,’ she said and jus
t started crying all the harder. ‘My beautiful shoe…’
Cameron was a bit wrong-footed by that. Maybe his male ego was bigger than it should have been, because he’d thought—had maybe even hoped in a warped kind of way—that she’d been crying about him.
He took the shoe from her. The clear glass-like heel was hanging off.
Puzzled, he looked at Alice again. He knew girls liked shoes, but this much…? And he hadn’t ever suspected Alice was one of those girls. But until a couple of weeks ago there had been a lot of things he hadn’t suspected about Alice. How funny and strong-willed she could be. How resourceful and determined.
‘They’re just shoes,’ he said, sitting down next to her. ‘You can get another pair.’
Alice looked at him as if he’d just insulted her mother. ‘I don’t want another pair! I want this pair. But it’s broken and I don’t know how to fix it and I’ll probably never be able to wear them again.’ She paused to take a deep gurgling sniff. ‘And I’ll never find another pair like them. I might never find another pair at all! And then I’ll be shoeless for the rest of my life. Old and lonely and…and…shoeless!’
Cameron looked at Alice. He hated seeing her like this. If he could, he would hunt down her heart’s desire and give it to her on a silver platter. Gently he prised the other shoe from her grip and put the pair down on the floor beside him, avoiding a foil curry container with an oily slick in the bottom.
If Alice wanted these shoes, and these shoes only, then he would have them repaired—whatever the cost. And if they couldn’t be repaired he’d scour the globe for replacements.
He took a deep breath and hoped the universe was still in the mood for granting wishes tonight. Because he really wanted to convince Alice to give him a chance, to let them explore whatever this thing between them was.
‘Alice, I’ll take care of the shoes. Whatever you want, I’ll get it for you.’
She looked up at him, her gaze flicking between his eyes, searching for the truth of his statement.
‘What I want is to know what you want, Cameron. Why are you here?’
Such a simple question. So hard to answer. Partly because he wasn’t sure how to put it all into words, and partly because he didn’t know if he was brave enough to do it if he could. He settled on asking for something concrete.
‘I would like to spend more time with you. I don’t want…this…to be over.’
He’d had it with temporary.
A strange combination of suspicion and surprise clouded her eyes.
‘Why? Why me?’
Because I can’t stop thinking about you. Because I love being with you. Because I have a feeling that if I don’t see you again something inside me will shrivel up and dry out.
Those words sounded so lame inside his head—like bad dialogue from a cheesy chick-flick. He couldn’t say them, even if it was true. He reached out and took one of her hands in his.
‘Because you deserve to be treated like a princess.’
There—that was much better. Women always liked to hear things like that.
So why did Alice swiftly pull her hand out of his? Why did her chin jut forward just a little?
‘I’m not a princess and I never will be. Don’t kid yourself.’
Frustration started to form a cloud in Cameron’s head. Why was she being so stubborn? She was being ridiculous. Didn’t she know how sweet and funny and clever she was? Who had been telling her otherwise? He’d like to find that person and make them eat their words—swiftly followed by their teeth.
She got up and walked away from him, and when she could go no further, when she had reached the corner of the room, she turned and faced him, one hand on her hip.
‘Did you love Jessica?’
Cameron stiffened. Where the heck had that come from? And what did Jessica have to do with him and Alice? Had she been whispering in Alice’s ear? Knowing dah-ling Jessica, she’d have had her claws out if she’d had the opportunity. He needed to put this right—make Alice see sense.
‘No, I didn’t love her.’ Sometimes, towards the end, he hadn’t even liked her—despite the fact she could be very charming company when she wanted to be. It struck him that even after four months of on-and-off dating he hadn’t really known Jessica at all. She too put up a front—a bulletproof sensuality that deflected everything. And it had never bothered him. Maybe she was as much a coward as he was. He wondered what she was really like behind her fun-loving party-girl persona. Not because he was interested in her in a romantic sense any more, but because he was suddenly certain there was more under the surface than he had ever seen, had ever bothered to look for. ‘I’m not sure I even knew her very well.’
He’d hoped it would put Alice’s mind at rest, but somehow his response had just made her frown all the harder.
‘Then what was it that made you want to go out with her in the first place? If that isn’t a really obvious question…’
He tore his eyes from hers and looked across the room to the TV screen. The monster was still frozen; the dragon was still blood-smeared. He didn’t want to open up and tell her this. Now he looked at his behaviour it all seemed so pathetic. Alice would think badly of him if he told her the truth—that he’d been afraid, that underneath all the hype he was still a quivering coward. He almost laughed out loud. Oh, God, the bullies had been right after all.
But she’d send him away if he didn’t say something, so he’d just have to try and make it sound not too awful. He couldn’t bear it if she looked at him in disgust, if he saw her opinion of him change.
‘It’s hard to explain…’ He tried to tell her that it hadn’t been as heartless and cynical as it sounded. Even though he hadn’t been in love, he’d honestly been infatuated with the string of women he’d dated. It was just that the shimmer of perfection that had attracted him to them in the beginning hadn’t seem to last. And just as he was starting to lose interest he’d spot someone else and he’d be off again, the whole cycle repeating itself.
As the words poured forth he felt himself hollow out. It was a horrible feeling because the space wasn’t left empty. A cold wind of fear rushed in to fill the void.
‘It wasn’t a calculated thing. It’s just…’
‘It’s just that you were living up to your name.’
He turned to look at her. ‘What?’
‘Hunter. You obviously love the thrill of the chase.’ She looked at the floor. ‘Not so keen on the keeping of what you’ve won, though. Always on to the next thing—bigger and better…’
Up until now that part of his character had always seemed a positive thing—it was how he’d achieved so much success so quickly—but the way Alice said it…She sounded so blank, so hopeless.
He got up and walked over to where she was standing.
‘None of that matters now.’ Inside, his stomach began to pitch. ‘I don’t want Jessica. I don’t even want someone else like her. I want you.’
‘This isn’t real,’ she said. ‘It’s the evening, an adrenaline rush, a moment…’
Wasn’t real? How could she say that? The very air around them was pulsing with authenticity. Couldn’t she feel it? For the first time in his life he was seeing things clearly.
‘And I can’t do this if all it is going to be is a moment.’ She fixed him with a serious look—one that made his pulse stutter. ‘You know what I’m talking about, don’t you?’
He nodded.
He didn’t want just a moment either. But the implications of that were making his head spin, filling his stomach with a fear he just didn’t want to name. The opposite of temporary was permanent, and he’d never really planned on ‘for ever’ with anyone. He didn’t know if he could do it even if he wanted to.
‘I think…I think there’s something there between us, Cameron. But I’m not sure there’s any mileage in it.’ She nodded, more to herself than to him. ‘And I’m ready for mileage—for long distance.’
He wanted to say he was too, but after what he’
d said about his previous relationships the words sounded a bit empty as they echoed round his head. Now he was getting desperate. And when Cameron got stuck in difficult situations he fell back on tried and tested methods.
He wanted to tell her about the life they could have together, the life she deserved. All the best restaurants. And she wouldn’t have to wear anything second-hand ever again. He’d buy her haute couture—the sort of thing other people would be bidding for at auctions in fifty years time. She would be the first person to wear the clothes that would be tomorrow’s vintage. But he didn’t say any of this, knowing he would be digging his own grave.
She looked very glum, resigned.
‘One evening—that’s all I’m asking for.’ For starters. Once he’d dazzled her, in true Cameron Hunter style, she would change her mind. She had to.
‘I don’t want just one evening, Cameron.’
Her chest rose and fell, and she stayed silent for the longest time—as if she was inwardly struggling with herself. In the end she walked over and opened the living room door.
Once again he found himself in the position of wanting to argue back but not really having a leg to stand on. He didn’t know if he was ready either, but he wanted to be ready. Surely that had to count for something?
‘Wait there,’ she said, and disappeared upstairs. She returned a few moments later. But now she was in stripy flannel pyjamas and she was holding the green dress in her arms. She held it out to him. The tears were gone—along with most of her make-up—and she looked pink, puffy, and slightly soggy. Cameron wanted to kiss her.
‘Before you go,’ she said, ‘I thought I ought to give you this. It’s your dress really.’
‘But I bought it for you.’
She took a moment to think. He could tell she was doing that, because her forehead did a very characteristic crinkle and she looked at the floor. After a few moments she raised her head and looked at him, seemingly having reached some kind of decision.